If her aunt was surprised, then she gave no sign, but Kate had never felt more like doing someone a physical injury than at that moment when she glimpsed that look of triumph on Rhyno's lean face. Oh, how she hated this man!
She did not join in the conversation while they had tea, and she left soon after Rhyno excused himself to check on the fermentation tanks in the cellars. She had seen Aunt Edwina's glance stray towards the marks which were still visible on her wrists, and she was in no mood to explain how they had got there.
The need for a change of clothing forced her in the direction of the master bedroom, and when she closed the door behind her she leaned against it and stared about the spacious, airy room for several seconds. It had been used for guests over the years, and Kate had been too young to remember the time when her father had shared this room with her mother.
She stared at the large four-poster bed with its heavy crimson drapes to match the curtains at the window, and felt a little sick inside. She had dreamed of sharing this room, and that enormous bed, with the man she loved, but instead she would be spending the next year occupying it alone. She could not blame fate entirely, it had been helped along magnanimously by her father, and here she was, married to a man like Rhyno van der Bijl, and knowing that she was going to hate every minute of it.
She wandered into the dressing-room where, as Rhyno had said, someone had put fresh linen on the single bed in the corner. She stood there a little hesitantly, glancing towards the right, then sighed with relief. She had forgotten that there was a door leading off the dressing-room into the passage, which meant that Rhyno did not necessarily have to make a thoroughfare of her room, and with a bathroom just across the passage he would have as much privacy as she would have. The only problem was her clothes, but that, too, had been taken care of. The cupboards in the dressing-room contained only Rhyno's clothes, and she cast a cynical glance over his sober suits in various shades of grey and brown. On the dresser, with the small mirror above it, lay his hairbrushes, and a few personal belongings, but otherwise the room looked singularly bare of any personal touch which could have given her a further insight into the character of the man who had leapt, in the space of a few short weeks, from estate manager to her husband.
Husband. She shrank inwardly from the word with a measure of distaste. She could never think of Rhyno in that respect. He was merely the man she had married to comply with the conditions in her father's will.
She walked back into the bedroom and opened the large wardrobe against the wall facing the window. Her clothes were all there, neatly folded in the shelves, or hanging on the hangars, and when she glanced over her shoulder she could see that her personal toiletries had been set out neatly on the dressing-table. She washed and changed quickly into a colourful skirt and crisp white blouse, but when she touched up her make-up and brushed her hair, she stared at herself in the mirror for long seconds. She had tied her hair away from her face with a blue silk scarf, and it made her look younger, almost vulnerable, but this was not what she was thinking of at that moment. She was thinking of that brief and binding ceremony which had taken place that morning, and if it were not for that gold band on her finger she could almost believe that it had never happened. But it had, and for the next year she would carry the hateful title of Mrs Rhyno van der Bijl.
She had a peculiar feeling that she was being suffocated and, flinging her brush on to the dressing-table, she stormed out of the room, and out of the house in search of air.
That evening, when they sat down to dinner, Kate and Rhyno faced each other from the extremities of the table with Aunt Edwina seated somewhere in between. Kate was about to open her mouth to demand who gave Rhyno the right to sit in her father's chair when Aunt Edwina forestalled her with, 'I hope you don't mind my putting you. in Jacques' place, Rhyno, but it's nice to have a man at the head of the table again.'
Kate's mouth snapped shut into a tight, angry line as Rhyno smiled faintly and murmured something she could not quite catch, then the moment passed as the first course was served.
'It's nice to have a man at the head of the table again,' Aunt Edwina's remark echoed repeatedly through Kate's mind during dinner, and she thought cynically, 'Well, let him bask in this unexpected glory. When this year has passed I shall personally hoist him out of his now exalted position!'
Their coffee was served to them in the living-room and, when Kate had placed her empty cup in the tray, she excused herself and went for a walk. She was too incredibly tense to think of going to bed, and too annoyed that her aunt had accepted everything so calmly.
A cool south-easterly breeze was pushing up from the coast between the Helderberg and Jonkershoek mountains, and the nip in the air was just sufficient to remind her that the summer was at an end. The harvest would go on for at least another two weeks, and soon the new young wines would have to be tested and nurtured with loving care along the way to becoming one of the superb, full-bodied wines Solitaire was known for.
Kate sat down on the bench beneath the shadows of the old oak, and sighed heavily. She would have given anything to be in Cape Town with Gavin at that moment. They would have laughed about silly little things, and they would have had fun, but instead she sat there alone in the darkness with no one to talk to, and no one who would understand.
A movement caught her eye, and she glanced towards the house just in time to see Rhyno walking briskly towards the estate truck. He was going to check on the fermentation tanks, and she supposed she ought to be grateful that she had someone on Solitaire who was as keen and conscientious about the winemaking process as Rhyno was, but the thought offered her no comfort at all.
Later that evening, when she sat in front of the dressing-table going through the nightly ritual of brushing her hair before going to bed, she heard Rhyno's footsteps in the passage. She stiffened automatically and, lowering her brush on to the dressing-table, her hands moved of their own volition to tighten the belt of her silk dressing-gown. Her heart gave a sickening jolt when she heard him pause briefly outside her door, then he walked on and went into the dressing-room.
For some inexplicable reason she sat there rigidly while she listened to him move about. She heard the dressing-room door open and close, then she heard him in the shower across the passage. She relaxed momentarily, and picked up her brush to continue brushing her hair until it shone like pure silver, but a certain degree of tension remained with her, and she finally got to her feet to pace the floor restlessly. She heard Rhyno return to the dressing-room, she heard him moving about, opening and closing cupboard doors, and it felt strange to think that only a wooden door separated her from the man she had married that morning; a man who meant nothing and never could mean anything to her.
A sharp knock on the dressing-room door jarred every nerve in her body, and her voice betrayed some of her tension when she demanded sharply. 'What do you want?'
'I have something here for you,' Rhyno replied, his voice muffled through the door, and she was instantly on her guard.
'What is it?'
'It's something that should make you sleep easier,' he replied, and the word 'tranquilliser' leapt into her mind.
'I shall sleep perfectly well without—' The door opened abruptly, and the rest of her sentence seemed to die a natural death in her throat when she found herself staring at Rhyno in his black towelling robe with the belt tied carelessly about his waist, and his hair still damp from his shower. Her eyes became riveted to the spot where his robe parted to reveal his tanned, hair-roughened chest, and for one wild moment resentment flared within her. No man had the right to look so vital, so virile, and so destructively masculine, she thought frantically as her senses responded with a will of their own, but when her heart joined in with a heavy thudding against her ribs she forced herself to meet those dark, bold eyes. 'Who gave you permission to come in here?' she demanded haughtily.
'Carrying on a conversation through a closed door is quite unsatisfactory, don't you agree?' he smiled fai
ntly, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his robe and advancing towards her.
'Say what you have to say, and get out.'
He paused beside the dressing-table, and raised one sardonic eyebrow, then those bold, intensely probing eyes shifted slowly down the length of her, lingering on the curves of her slender body beneath her silk dressing-gown, and igniting twin spots of colour in her cheeks which deepened when his eyes met hers again.
'Like your namesake in Shakespeare's play, you're really quite a shrew, and if my interests were not elsewhere I might have found it enjoyable taming you, Kate.'
There was a nervous fluttering in her stomach, but her eyes sparkled with mockery. 'You fancy yourself as Petruchio, then?'
His mouth twitched, but his expression remained stern as he said harshly, 'There's no doubt in my mind that a few hard slaps on your posterior from time to time would put a more civil tongue in your head.'
'And I have no doubt that you're the most arrogant, insufferable and self-opinionated creature God ever made, and I hate you!' she hissed at him.
'Someone who hates as well as you do, Kate, will love with an equal passion.' His eyes flicked over her with a dangerously sensuous fire in their depths, and they lingered on that tell-tale pulse at the base of her throat which was beating frantically with an emotion she could not grasp. 'Intriguing thought, isn't it?' he added softly, as if he was aware of her confusion.
'What a pity you'll never know whether your assumption is correct,' she replied daringly, but she knew the instant she had spoken that it had been a mistake, for his eyes narrowed as he approached her with that slow stealthiness of a jungle cat.
'Is that a challenge, Kate?'
She backed away from him until she stood framed against the crimson curtains, and her hands moved involuntarily to the belt of her dressing-gown. 'It was a statement of fact, that's all, and if you come any closer I'll scream!'
He smiled that twisted, cynical smile as he paused no more than a pace away from her. 'Are you afraid I might discover I'm right?'
'I'm not afraid of anything,' she protested defiantly, the scent of his particular brand of shaving cream filling her nostrils and stirring her bewildered senses, and she lashed out at him in resentment. 'All I've ever felt for you is revulsion.'
During the brief ensuing silence the air between them seemed to be charged with electricity, then Rhyno's face darkened with a frightening anger, and his lips drew back from his strong, white teeth in something close to a snarl as he said thickly, 'My God, you asked for this, Kate!'
She should have anticipated his actions, but she didn't, and the next instant she found herself locked in a fierce embrace that pinned her arms helplessly at her sides. His thighs were pressed against hers, and her breasts were crushed against the hard wall of his chest, but nothing was worse than that cruel, punishing mouth against her own which forced her head back until it felt as though her neck would snap. She was too stunned at first to react, but when she finally struggled against those imprisoning arms her efforts merely made her more aware of the male hardness of his body against her soft, feminine curves, and every nerve and pulse began to throb with a strange rhythm that sent an incredible weakness surging into her limbs. He forced her lips apart with his own, and his intimate invasion of her mouth sent a shock of unfamiliar sensations rippling through her. She should have felt insulted, but instead she found herself responding until she felt drugged and no longer capable of coherent thought.
Rhyno released her abruptly, and she staggered away from him, clutching at the curtains behind her for support. She felt dazed, and more than just slightly bewildered, and she had a horrible feeling that it showed on her face while Rhyno's features remained composed and shuttered. He seemed to display none of the symptoms she was experiencing at that moment, no shortness of breath, nor frantically throbbing pulses, and although she hated him for it, she could not help envying him his calm, unruffled appearance while she stood there feeling shattered to the very core of her being.
'I believe this key locks the dressing-room door,' his harsh voice grated along her sensitive nerves, and he flipped a metal object on to the dressing-table. 'Lock the door, if you like, but you need have no fear that I shall force my attentions on someone who's done nothing but arouse my contempt!'
Kate stood as if turned to stone until he had disappeared into the dressing-room and closed the door firmly behind him. Only then did she move gropingly towards the bed to sink weakly into its springy softness. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before, and something warned her that if she wanted to emerge from this business arrangement unscathed, then she would have to take care that it never happened again.
CHAPTER FIVE
Kate's fingers curled about the key. It was cold and hard against her palm, as cold and hard as Rhyno's face had been the night before when he had told her that she had aroused nothing but his contempt. She had been too distraught afterwards to think of locking the door into the dressing-room, but it had, after all, not been necessary. They had both said enough to erect a barrier between them which was as solid as an impenetrable steel wall, and she knew that it would take more than an ordinary key to unlock the metaphorical doors they had slammed in each other's faces.
She dropped the key into the dressing-table drawer and pushed it shut with a grimace. She had had difficulty in falling asleep last night. She had been too shattered by Rhyno's kisses, and too bewildered by her own feelings. She had imagined she would hate him more than ever this morning, but instead she felt only remorse, and something else she could not quite define.
It was going to be a grim Sunday, she decided when she left her room to join Rhyno and Aunt Edwina for breakfast, but she had no idea just how grim the next few weeks were going to be.
During the remainder of the harvest Kate and Rhyno worked together as a team even though they spoke to each other only when it was absolutely necessary, and they both seemed equally incapable of doing anything to eliminate the icy' atmosphere which reigned supreme whenever they were together. Kate decided that it was best to leave things as they were, but Aunt Edwina apparently had other ideas.
Late one evening, when the harvest was at an end and the winemaking had begun in earnest, Aunt Edwina confronted Kate in the living-room before she could retire for the night.
'There's been a distinct chill in this house since your marriage to Rhyno,' Edwina started her obvious campaign to end the cold war. 'There was a time when the two of you used to speak to each other, even if it was only in an argumentative way, but these days there are those long-drawn-out silences, and I'm getting rather tired of hearing my own voice.'
'I'm sorry, Aunt Edwina,' Kate murmured, lowering her gaze and feeling guilty that her aunt should suffer because of the awkward situation between Rhyno and herself.
'Being sorry is all very well, Kate,' Aunt Edwina continued determinedly, 'but something will have to be done about the situation. It can't go on like this indefinitely, and if you don't want the months ahead to become unbearable for everyone concerned, then the two of you will have to do something about it.'
Kate sighed and seated herself on the arm of her aunt's chair. 'We said some terrible things to each other the day we were married.'
'Then I suggest you put it right.'
'It isn't as easy as that.'
'Nothing important is ever easy.'
'But why should I be the one to do something about it?' Kate demanded indignantly.
'Knowing you, Kate, you most probably needed very little encouragement to make use of that barbed tongue of yours,' her aunt replied drily.
Kate looked at the woman who had been both mother and aunt to her since her second birthday, and an affectionate smile lifted the corners of her mouth. 'I suppose you're right, Aunt Edwina.'
'Then do something about it,' her aunt persisted, and when Kate did not reply she added anxiously, 'You surely don't want the situation to continue the way it is, do you?'
Kate stared down a
t the carpet with a mixture of indecision and wariness. She was not quite sure what she wanted, but anything would be preferable to the existing cold war between Rhyno and herself.
'Where's Rhyno?' she asked absently, still not sure what she was going to do.
'He mentioned something about the wine in the fermentation tanks reaching the critical stage, and my guess is that you'll find him in the cellars doing a four-hourly check.' Aunt Edwina placed an encouraging hand on Kate's arm. 'He's been there since after dinner this evening, and I doubt if he'll come at all tonight, so why not take him a flask of coffee?'
Kate hesitated momentarily, then she dropped a light kiss on her aunt's forehead and rose to her feet. 'I'll do as you suggest, but if I come away with insults ringing in my ears, then don't expect me to repeat the performance!'
Twenty minutes later she was parking the small jeep outside the building which housed the large wooden vats and steel fermentation tanks. The light was on in the small room used as an office, and taking the basket off the seat beside her, she climbed out of the jeep and entered the cellar quietly.
The door to the office stood slightly ajar, and she walked in without knocking to find Rhyno seated behind the desk with one of his favourite pipes clenched between his teeth. He looked up suddenly from the papers he had been studying, and she felt decidedly uncomfortable when his cool, enquiring gaze flicked over her, taking in her faded denims and pink and white striped blouse.
He took his pipe out of his mouth and wiped the corner of his lips with the back of his hand. 'Why aren't you at home and in bed?'
His voice was terse and unfriendly, but she ignored it determinedly as she placed the basket on the desk. 'I thought you might want a cup of coffee and a little help.'
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