by Vaso
Kemp looked at her thoughtfully. 'I've recently heard, in a somewhat roundabout way, that a lecturer in Lit. from the Afrikaans faculty has been making regular trips to Cape Town, seeing Rose de Villiers. I hope it works out for her. She used to lecture as well. I wonder if she ever comes up to Stellenbosch.'
'Yes.'
No one else would have noticed the slight tensing of the fingers curled round the handle of her cup, or the tightening of her facial muscles. Kemp did, however, and his eyes narrowed.
'What is it?' he queried softly.
'Need you ask?' she retorted, smiling wryly at his ability to observe the slightest shift of mood in her. 'Rose de Villiers . . . just another reminder of Philip!'
'It wasn't meant that way,' he said tautly. 'I was making idle conversation, Valentine. About Rose, not Philip. You never met her, did you?'
'No, thank God. She didn't attend the inquest. They said she'd, suffered some sort of nervous collapse and was heavily sedated. I hope I never do. I can face most things, Kemp, but not that.' Her eyes had darkened and the mask momentarily fallen away. 'I don't think I behaved wrongly or irresponsibly with Philip, considering I was ignorant of both his nature and the fact of his marriage, but I suppose I must feel some degree of guilt if I can feel this way about Rose. I wasn't culpable, but I was to blame—unwittingly.'
'Forget it, Valentine,' Kemp ordered savagely, while his glance measured the extent of her shame and bitterness. 'You're unlikely to come face to face with Rose. Coincidence has paid you more than your fair share of attention already.'
CHAPTER NINE
VALENTINE disliked the cabaret and she objected to some strange singer singling her out with his eyes and serenading her. It was an invasion of privacy.
'Let's go, Adam,' she requested with her most appealing smile. 'I'm not in the mood for this.'
'Is there anything special you'd like to do, anywhere else you'd like to go?' he asked a few minutes later when they were in his car.
'Have I ruined the evening for you?' she asked with charming contrition.
'Of course not,' he denied gallantly. 'Normally your stamina and enjoyment of an evening out is phenomenal, so I can't complain when for once you behave out of character.'
'What a nicely brought up young man you are,' she said With a faint smile. 'I'm sorry, Adam. All I feel like doing is going home. That singer upset me.'
'He had a nerve, I must say, but you can hardly blame him for noticing you,' Adam said as he started the car. 'You're very eye-catching, Valentine. Decorative is the word. And I do wish you'd stop complimenting me on my good manners. It makes me feel I have to behave better than I want to.'
'That's the whole idea,' she laughed.
Adam sighed. 'It's very effective. I've never met anyone so skilled at keeping a man at arm's length!'
He didn't stay at arm's length when they arrived at Fleurmont a while later, but a brief goodnight kiss was all Valentine allowed him after telling him she wasn't going to ask him in.
'Do you keep the same space around yourself where Kemp Irvine is concerned, honey?' he asked as she withdrew.
'Kemp Irvine?'
'Just what is the relationship between the two of you?' Adam probed. 'It was evident to everyone at that harvest party that there was a relationship of some sort.'
Valentine shrugged. 'Perhaps everyone was mistaken,' she said lightly. 'If Kemp and I ... Would I be going out with you, and the others, Adam? And Kemp sees Emma.'
'You might be broadminded and have . . . What's the phrase? An open relationship?'
Valentine laughed. 'If things were as you suggest between me and Kemp, I wouldn't share him with Emma and I'd hope he wouldn't want to share me with anyone. Goodnight again, Adam, and thank you.'
The sound of his car died away while she was making a fuss of the dogs, and then she went inside. The flickering light from the sitting-room told her the television was on for the late news, but the sound" was turned right down and when she looked in, Kemp was in fact reading.
'I'm back,' she said rather obviously, and he looked up enquiringly.
'You're early. Did you have a pleasant evening?' he asked indifferently.
'Oh, reasonable. And you?' Why were they being so polite? 'Did you go out?'
'Yes. I had dinner with the Hattinghs,' he told her, looking at his book again. 'Actually, they appeared to have been expecting you as well.'
'This is the first I've heard of it,' Valentine said casually.
'People assume a lot.'
'Don't they?' She remembered Adam's interrogation. 'You could have corrected the assumption by taking Emma with you.'
He didn't reply to that, but he did look at her again, a faintly exasperated look, as she stood in the doorway, tall and slender in a brief, graceful garment of sapphire-blue silk chiffon, with her dark curls spilling about her slender neck in glorious profusion.
Valentine lifted a graceful shoulder. 'Oh, well, I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Kemp.' 'Goodnight, Valentine.'
She went along to her bedroom, switching the light on as she entered. As always, her eyes sought her reflection in the dressing-table mirror. For a moment she didn't really believe she was seeing what she did, so unexpected was it. Then——
'No!'
The cry of protest was torn from her. Someone had taken up the reddest of her lipsticks and written crudely on the mirror—Remember Philip. It was shocking mainly because she was totally unprepared for it, but it also succeeded in making her obey its simple command. She remembered Philip, and she remembered the hatred felt by those who had been close to him. A moan of anguish came from her as she backed away, still staring at the ugly message as if mesmerized by it.
Kemp's arrival broke her trance. 'What's the matter? Why did you——' he broke off as he saw her face, her eyes almost black in the midst of its whiteness. 'Valentine! What's frightening you?'
She gestured wildly. His eyes went to the mirror and he drew a sharp breath.
'My God!' He put a hand on her shoulder, steadying her because she was swaying.
'How . . . why?' She stopped, swallowing hard and striving desperately for control. The smile she managed was a travesty. 'An unnecessary injunction. I never forget—I'm not permitted to.'
Kemp's eyes narrowed and his hand tightened on her shoulder.
'Just who are you blaming for that piece of ... cruel juvenility?'
'I'm sorry, I'm sorry!' Valentine gasped as sanity reasserted itself.. 'I must have gone mad for a moment. It wouldn't be your way, Kemp . . . But then who?'
'Come away from this place, Valentine.'
His arm was still across her shoulders and she allowed him to lead her bark to the sitting-room.
'Do ... do you think I deserve that?' she asked suddenly, as if the answer was the most important thing in the world.
He saw the way her lip was quivering and his arm tightened. 'Don't be ridiculous!'
Just for a moment she turned her face against him, briefly letting him support her weight, the first time she had ever leaned against anyone in need. Then she straightened, her mouth tightening, and went to sit in a chair.
Kemp brought her a drink. She tasted it and set the glass down. 'I'm not going to faint, you know.'
'You're still pale,' he remarked, looking at her intently.
She tried to make her shrug casual. 'I'm sorry. Once again I'm making a fool of myself, but I ... I was frightened, you see. It shocked me.'
He shook his head. 'That's understandable. Stay here, Valentine. I'm going to remove that . . . that evil from the mirror.'
Her mind was blank as she waited in the quiet room. He had switched off the television and only a couple of shaded wall lights were on. Above the fireplace the carriage clock ticked rhythmically and she fitted the words to the sound. Remember Philip. Remember . . .
Kemp's return startled her.
'Are you all right?'
'Of course.' She tried very hard to smile, but there was a bleak bitterness in her eyes
and her face was still paper-white.
Kemp sighed, going across to the dimmer switch and turning the lights up a little. 'You're trying too hard, my dear.'"
'Should I let such . . . such crudity bring me down?' Her voice wobbled and she compressed her lips hastily. 'There's really nothing to be said, is there?'
'Except to wonder who was responsible.' He stood in front of her, looking grim.
Valentine looked up at him. 'Well . . . who?' she asked slowly. 'I can't believe anyone at Fleurmont could be the perpetrator.'
'Neither can I,' Kemp agreed. As if he was tired, he moved his shoulders, flexing the muscles and then relaxing again. 'Listen, Valentine. When I was with the Hattinghs we heard a car pass, but I just assumed Adam was bringing you home early, especially as we heard it again a short time later, returning in the direction of the public road. Salome would still have been about at that time. Will you wait here for me while I go to her quarters and ask who it was that called?'
'Yes.'
He seemed to hesitate, before leaving the room again.
Valentine heard him go outside and the dogs gave him a noisy welcome which he hushed impatiently. Then there was silence for a time. With no one to witness her, there was no need to keep up appearances and Valentine leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, her face in her hands. This was pure self-pity and she was a fool to indulge in it, but she had never felt so unloved and alone. It was a cold, empty feeling.
She heard Rufus whine excitedly and sat up straight, composing her features. She was a weak and foolish woman to let something so petty distress her so deeply. She had endured worse than this. Already a suspicion of her persecutor's identity was beginning to form and she told herself she should be feeling only compassion.
Kemp re-entered the room and she searched his face, noting the hardness of his brilliant eyes and the disgusted twist of his lips. He sat down opposite her.
'Salome says Emma Ducaine called earlier this evening,' he told her abruptly. 'She wanted to see me, apparently, and I'd forgotten to tell Salome where I was going. My car would have been out of sight when she passed the Hattinghs' house—otherwise she might have joined me there, I suppose, instead of doing what she did. Salome said she went to the bathroom before leaving again . . . She'd have known you were safely out of the way since it was her brother you were out with.'
Valentine nodded slightly. 'Yes.'
'You're not surprised, are you?'
'No, are you?'
'I suppose not,' Kemp conceded tautly.
A faint, mocking smile crossed Valentine's pale face. 'Are you sure she hasn't left the same message in your room, Kemp? Because I think she'd very much like you to keep remembering what I did to your cousin.'
'No, I've been in there since coming home,' he said tersely.
'Poor Emma!'
'Is that all you've got to say?' >
'What else am I to say?' But her bitterness drove composure away again and she crossed her arms over her stomach, rocking slightly, her dark head bent. 'Oh, God! Am I never to be free of it?' she asked in a low agonized voice.
'You have to free yourself, Valentine,' Kemp said sharply. 'Because I doubt if anyone else can do it for you.'
She shook her head, fighting to regain her self-control. The silence between them grew prolonged. Finally she looked up, to find Kemp watching her intently.
'Are you enjoying the spectacle?' she asked with a smile that was both brave and brittle.
'For pity's sake, Valentine!' Kemp exclaimed furiously. He went on more quietly, 'Why do you never cry?'
'You feel I should cry over an act of childish spite?' she countered scathingly.
'Since it appears to have upset you so badly, why not?' he retorted, but not ungently. 'It would be the natural thing to do.'
'Natural, meaning feminine?' Valentine challenged.
'As I've said before, you're incomplete as a woman,' he reminded her expressionlessly.
Why is it that men always visualize a whole, complete woman as a vulnerable one?' Valentine wondered whimsically. Her face hardened. 'You'll just have to accept that I'm incomplete.'
'I was talking about your refusal ever to give way to tears, not about an absense of vulnerability.'
Valentine regarded him warily. 'Aren't they one and the same thing?'
'How can they be?' he demanded impatiently. 'You never cry, Valentine, but you're one of the most vulnerable women I've ever known. Strong, yet vulnerable at the same time. Only a truly awesome capacity for pain could demand that constant, incredible act, and that determination never to cry.'
Valentine stared at him for a moment longer. Then her head drooped and she smoothed the skirt of her dress with shaking hands.
'You know me,' she acknowledged flatly, helplessly. 'How can you know me so well?'
She was a picture of utter heartbreak, so alone, and so despairing. Kemp stood up, crossing swiftly to her, and pulled her up into his arms.
'Let me help you, Valli,' he urged in a tone she had never heard from him before. 'Forget about the tears, but let me make you whole and well . . . Let me heal you, let me make love to you tonight, darling.'
A sigh came from her and she seemed to collapse against him, letting him take her full weight. It was as if she had come to the end of something, a long struggle or a weary road, and was about to be revived. His arms were strong arid supportive about her, binding her to him, and in him was all the strength she would ever need.
'And will you keep me safe?' she asked yearningly. 'Oh, Kemp, I feel as if I've been alone for so long because no one . . . knew me, but you do. So hold me and share your strength with me, if nothing else.'
'I'll keep you safe, my darling. There's no need for you to stand alone,' he reassured her, his lips moving slowly along the line of her cheek, finally finding the sweetness of her mouth.
They drew apart a little and his hands moved to the sides of her face, smoothing back her dark curls and then sliding down to the sides of her neck, his fingers lightly caressing. Valentine's lips moved silently as she tried to form words to express herself. He had never touched her with such tenderness before and the emotion that gripped her was something so profound, so consuming, that she felt as if he had drawn the soul from her.
'Valentine!' A light flared in Kemp's eyes and they kissed again, a long kiss of hungry passion, and Valentine felt his rising hardness even as her own throbbing desire became paramount need.
'I want you,' he said urgently. 'My beautiful woman . . . I've waited so long, and I can't any longer. I must have you . . . Come to bed, Valentine.'
There was a wonderful clarity in her eyes as she looked back at him, and a purity of beauty such as her face had never contained before.
'Yes,' she said simply. 'Kemp . . . Ah, God, yes! Only you can make me whole.'
There was no hesitation at the door to Valentine's own bedroom. They passed on to Kemp's with its wide luxurious bed. Just for a fleeting moment, as he was swiftly turning down the coverings, there was panic and she glanced anxiously at the dressing-table, but no photograph stood there now. The room was Kemp's now, bearing the imprint of his personality.
Then they were in each other's arms again, helping each other to undress and collapsing on to the bed together, and the long weeks of hunger they had both endured gave an unrestrained tempestuousness to their embrace.
'I want you to know,' she whispered. 'I recognized you, knew you, the first time I looked at you.'
Lamps burned at either side of the bed and Kemp didn't switch them off. 'I want to experience you with
every sense ... I want to see you. You're so beautiful, so incredibly beautiful, Valentine . . . God, but I want you!'
His fingers were gentle on her, finding proof of her arousal, and then his mouth was warmly caressing on her erect nipples.
'I love you, Kemp.' In a shivery voice, she gave him the last truth.
He lifted his head to look into her eyes and the line of his mouth became miraculou
sly tender. 'I know you do, Valli,' he said reassuringly, and put his mouth to hers again while beneath him her flawless body moved in undulating invitation, craving the so long denied consummation of their mutual passion.
'Kemp!'
Their bodies moved, illuminated by the soft light, each arousing the other to greater heights of desire. Guided by instinct, Valentine let her hands and lips touch him in ways that caused him to catch his breath, stroking him, loving him, wanting only to please.
'I'll never let you go,' he told her unsteadily, and groaned as she offered him her lips once more.
'I don't want you to. I'll only ever be safe with you,' she declared passionately. 'Oh, Kemp, I love you ... I love you so much!'
She felt his thighs between her legs and an awesome trembling started as she lay waiting for him, ready . . .
'You're so perfect,' he said hoarsely, his breathing rapid and shallow, and she saw the blazing pride and desire in the blue eyes and cried out. The tanned skin was stretched tautly across his face and the last flicker of fear that he might mean to reject her again died in that instant.
She rose to meet him, gasping as he entered her, welcoming his penetrant, rigid maleness, moulding him within her, and she felt she must surely die of this exquisite pleasure. In the soft light of the lamps, their first coming together ascended, up and up, to a rapture that was almost intolerable. Valentine moaned in a voice she didn't recognize, clinging passionately to him, loving the strong shaft that moved ceaselessly within her, every powerful thrust taking her nearer to complete and utter ecstasy. She cried out when the first deep inner shudder of her woman's experience started. She was possessed, enraptured, and this was her man, contained in her, her man for ever, for all time. Kemp alone controlled her, gave her life. Choked cries of love came from her as the climax of their rapture approached, and then she was sobbing aloud as the final spasm of total ecstasy made her shudder convulsively in his arms.
It was done, and he couldn't leave her. Her face was wet with tears she hadn't been aware of until now, and she couldn't move. A complete relaxation, a deep stillness and a wondrous fulfilment were the aftermath of their passionate joining. She wanted to stay like this for ever, with this deep peace pervading her entire being, slowing the blood in her veins and ma'king her lethargic and utterly content.
