East of Barryvale

by Yvonne Whittal

  With his hand still on the door handle he turned slightly as though in a hurry to leave, and Jacqueline felt a sense of urgency take hold of her as the rest of the day seemed to stretch like a lonely chasm before her.

  "I think I know where a bottle of old Cape wine is hidden. Won't you forget what passed between us and stay to share it with me?"

  Meldon's expression remained the same, but some­thing in the look that entered his eyes gave her hope as she stood before him, her hands held out pleadingly towards him.

  "I'll stay, if that's what you want."

  A sigh of relief escaped her as she led the way back to the study.

  "Make yourself comfortable. I shan't be long," she said, leaving him alone while she went in search of two glasses and the bottle of wine she had mentioned.

  It was with a heart filled with hope that she rinsed the glasses before placing them on a tray beside the bottle of wine which she had found in the cupboard beneath the staircase. She had managed to prevent Meldon from leaving, if only to re-establish their rela­tionship. She was like a dog begging for the crumbs from its master's table, but anything would be better than complete indifference from him, she decided.

  She carried the tray through to the study and found him looking through a book which he replaced in the shelf when she entered. He took the tray from her and placing it on the desk proceeded to open the bottle. In solemn silence he filled their glasses and later, when they were seated and sipping their wine, Jacqueline could bear the silence no longer.

  "My father was never very fond of entertaining," she began, the words tumbling quickly from her lips, "but every Christmas Eve he would invite some of his friends over for the evening. On Christmas morning we would attend the early morning church service and the rest of the day we would spend quietly together. But invariably he would be called out and most times I would go with him to help where I could."

  Her hands shook slightly as she stopped suddenly, realising that she was saying too much and not at all what she had intended to say. Somehow she could not stop herself, and while Meldon watched her almost broodingly, she chattered on.

  "The last Christmas I spent with my father, he had invited only a few guests, who left quite early in the even­ing. I made us a pot of coffee and we spent the rest of the evening here in the study." She looked about her, reliving those moments now so long ago. "We talked a lot that night, about my attending university and then later about the hospital. My father seemed strangely reluctant to go to bed and although it puzzled me, I was only too grateful to spend so much time with him."

  The sun was streaming in through the window and the diamonds in the bracelet he had given her sparkled mockingly up at her. Her attention was momentarily diverted and when she eventually raised her eyes, she found Meldon gazing at her intently. She held that look for a moment longer until the tension seemed to snap within her. Rising, she bridged the gap between her own chair and his and flung herself down on her knees at his feet.

  "Mel, I'm sorry," she cried, her eyes brimming with tears. "I seem to have been babbling on about nothing in particular when what I really wanted to say was that I don't care if you're in love with Tanya. I don't care about anything except that if you still want to marry me, I'm willing."

  Meldon's eyes seemed to burn with the intensity of his feelings as he stood up, lifting her with him.

  "Do you know what you're saying?" he asked thickly.

  A tear spilled over and found its way unheeded down her cheek as she looked up at him steadily. His hands gripped her arms fiercely, but the physical agony was nothing compared to the hopeless pain in her heart as she replied truthfully:

  "Yes. I'm telling you that I love you. That I don't care what circumstances induced you to force me into this engagement of ours but, whatever the reason, I want it to be true. I—"

  His mouth closed over hers, silencing whatever else she was about to say. Jacqueline shut her mind to every­thing else except the wonderment of his lips and arms. He kissed her hungrily, like a man thirsting for water and on receiving it, drinking it in great gulps. She returned his kisses with an abandon that not only surprised her but filled her whole being with an intoxicating warmth that left her weak.

  When he finally lifted his head she pressed her flushed face against his broad chest, inhaling the male fragrance of him.

  "From the moment you arrived in Barryvale you intrigued me," he said huskily, kissing the top of her shining head. "It wasn't long before you held my heart in the hollow of your hand."

  She tilted her head back slightly to look up at him, startled by this disclosure.

  "You can't be serious! You and Tanya were—"

  "Just friends," he interrupted smilingly. "I'm ashamed to say that I used her to make you jealous when you gave me the cold shoulder after having dinner with me that evening at Bergvliet."

  Jacqueline frowned, remembering how on that night they had exchanged their first real kiss of passion, and the torment she had been through ever since then.

  "Meldon," she began uncertainly, "after you kissed me that night you seemed to regret it. Why?"

  He picked her up in his arms and sat down in the big armchair with her on his lap, her head against his shoul­der.

  "I did regret it," he admitted, stroking her hair. "I hadn't intended to rush you, and although you responded beautifully I didn't want you to think that I wanted only to flirt with you. I wanted to win your love, and I was sure I had acted too hastily."

  "If only you had told me then that you cared," she sighed happily.

  His arms closed about her tightly as they exchanged another long kiss that left them both breathless and satisfied.

  "Why were you like an iceberg the next day?" he asked later.

  After a moment's hesitation she decided that it would be best to tell him everything. This was the moment of truth and there had to be no secrets between them any more.

  "Shortly after I arrived at my apartment, Tanya paid me a visit mainly to inform me that I was not to take you too seriously because although you enjoyed having little interludes with different women, you always returned to her in the end. She also added that you were unofficially engaged."

  Meldon's face darkened. "And you believed her?"

  "I knew she could be vindictive, but I didn't think she would lie about something like that. Forgive me," she added, placing her small hand gently against his cheek.

  He caught her hand in his own and placed warm lips against the palm.

  "It might interest you to know that I have never been engaged to Tanya, unofficially or otherwise. We were only friends, but she actually became a damned nuisance towards the end."

  This was balm to Jacqueline's battered heart and gave her the confidence to ask her next question.

  "Why did you announce our engagement so suddenly at the Hospital Ball?"

  He laughed then, his strong teeth glittering white against his tanned skin.

  "I wondered when that question would be asked." He traced the fine bone structure of her face with a loving finger and meeting her eyes candidly he supplied the answer she awaited so eagerly. "There were several reasons for that sudden announcement. Tanya was get­ting too possessive and wouldn't believe me when I told her I was intending to marry you. I had to bring that fact home to her somehow, and as you know, it did the trick. I also found a letter of resignation lying on my desk informing me of your intention to study overseas."

  "I was expecting to be called to your office for a con­frontation," Jacqueline admitted guiltily. "My year in Barryvale isn't up yet and I would have to break my contract."

  "I decided to ignore it for the time being," he informed her with a trace of the old mockery in his voice. Then, looking down into her soft brown eyes, that showed so clearly now her love for him, he drew his breath in sharply through his clenched teeth and kissed her hard on her warm, eager lips. "Damn you, woman," he said finally, "when you look at me the way you do I have the primi­tive urge to make violent lov
e to you."

  She blushed furiously as he got to his feet with her still in his arms.

  "You're so light, I could easily carry you away," he told her, his eyes devouring her face and shifting lower to where her small breasts strained against the soft silk of her dress.

  He set her down on her feet and removing her arms from about his neck pushed her unceremoniously into the chair he had just vacated. She smiled impishly as she watched him restlessly pace about in front of the window.

  "There was another reason for our engagement," he said eventually. "You would never have consented willingly at the time and I was determined not to let you go until I'd made you love me. Only then could I be certain you would return to me."

  "Would you let me go now that you're sure that I love you?" she asked with speculative calmness.

  He looked at her for several long seconds before he exclaimed harshly: "No!" And then he asked almost apologetically: "Do you still want to go?"

  Laughter bubbled up within her at the sudden change in his tone of voice, and looking up at him she laughed with a lightheartedness she had thought she would never experience again.

  "No," she said evenly, laughter still in her eyes. "My only reason for going was to get away from you because I thought you could never care for me."

  A slow smile spread across his face and reached his eyes. He placed his hands on the arms of her chair, his face only inches from hers.

  "Will you marry me?" he asked unnecessarily.

  "Yes."

  "When?"

  "Whenever you say," she replied breathlessly.

  "Would a month be too soon for you?"

  She was thoughtful for a moment and then she shook her head. "No."

  "That's settled, then," he said, straightening.

  A cloud suddenly passed over the horizon of her happiness and catching her lower lip between her teeth she looked up at him with some trepidation.

  "Mel. . . forgive me for asking, but. . . did you and Tanya—were you—"

  "Lovers?" he filled in without hesitation. A frown creased his brow as he looked down at her. Once more he had assumed the grim expression she had come to fear.

  "How did you know I was going to say that?"

  Wordlessly he slipped his hand into the inner pocket of his jacket and extracted a single sheet of paper which he tossed into her lap.

  Jacqueline recognised the crumpled note and knew, even before opening it, that it was the letter Tanya had written to her.

  "Where did you find this?" she asked hollowly.

  "It was lodged half beneath the cushion of the chair I sat on last night," he explained unperturbed.

  She looked up at him beseechingly, not daring to repeat her question.

  "Would it matter to you if it were true?" he asked briefly.

  "Not if you're sure that you don't care for her any more," she replied without hesitation.

  Only then did she realise how tensely he had been awaiting her reply, for he relaxed visibly and held out his hands to her. He pulled her to her feet and while still holding them against his breast, he looked deeply into her eyes.

  "Thank you," he said simply, "but there's no need for you to torture yourself any longer. Tanya and I were never lovers. We kissed occasionally, but her vile insinua­tions are unfounded." His arms closed about her firmly, and with his lips close to her ear he confessed: "I've never wanted to make love to any woman until you came along. Since the moment you stampeded into my heart I've had great difficulty in keeping my hands off you."

  Jacqueline hid her flushed face from his teasing eyes. She slipped her arms inside his jacket and clasped him about the waist.

  "Jacky." He spoke with an unfamiliar thickness in his voice. "I love you more than I could ever tell you. I won't pretend that I shall be an easy person to live with, but I know that together we shall weather the storms ahead of us. I've waited too long before marrying and I've already become a crusty old bachelor. Do you think you'll manage?"

  For an answer she raised her lips to his, and the kiss that started almost reverently became more passionate as the minutes ticked by. It was as though he were draw­ing her very soul through her lips. Filled with desire, and lightheaded with the knowledge that the man she loved reciprocated her feelings, she pressed closer to him.

  She became aware of his need of her as his large frame trembled. He released her suddenly, his eyes dark with suppressed passion, and took a step away from her.

  "What* are you going to do with this house?" he enquired after recovering his equilibrium.

  "Turn it into a nursery school," she replied promptly.

  "Are we going to have so many children?" he teased, watching the delightful blush spread over her cheeks.

  Embarrassed, she passed a hand over her hot face before venturing to meet his eyes once more. Laughing heartily at her discomfiture, he pulled her into his arms and placing a hand beneath her chin, he forced her face up to his.

  "Are we?"

  "Are we what?" she demanded.

  "Now don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. Are we going to have so many children that we shall need a nursery school?”

  "Not quite," she replied with an alluring smile.

  "Come, my love," he said with teasing haste, taking her arm to lead her from the house. "If we're to have a family then we'd better hurry up and get married."

  Laughing happily together, they walked out into the brilliant sunshine to where his car was hidden behind a grapevine. He placed her hand beneath his own at the wheel, and drove towards Bergvliet which would soon become her home. The place where their children would grow into fine young men and women.

  The future lay before her, promising and exciting. Her unhappiness had been discarded like a sombre cloak and she was basking in the glorious sunshine of her love.