Moonflower (8 page)

So she
forced herself to relax by the time Reuben reappeared and handed
her a glass of beer. They did not speak at first, just sat in
companionable silence, looking out over the garden and mountains,
and after several minutes, Sophie began to feel at peace. They
talked then about the fight to preserve wildlife and ecosystems,
and she was surprised by how much he knew about the
subject.

'Excuse
me, Mr Reuben.'

Beauty
appeared on the patio. 'Telephone call. It's very urgent from
England, Mr Reuben,' she said, smiling and holding the cordless
phone out to him.

'Thank
you, Beauty,' he said, rising from his seat and taking the
telephone from her.

'Manning.'

There was
a long pause.

'No need
to panic. Not until the final figures are in.'

Another
long pause as Sophie sipped her beer.

'Yes, I
understand that… Okay, well let's go over everything before we make
that decision. Hold on a minute.'

Reuben
put his hand over the telephone and turned to Sophie. 'Sorry about
this. Something's come up. I’ll have to take a rain
check.'

'No
problem. See you tomorrow.' She watched Reuben disappear into the
house. As she got to her feet, she felt enormous relief and
disappointment in equal parts.

Chapter
Five

She slept
in Reuben's shirt that night and woke to the feel of linen against
her bare skin, the smell of him in her nostrils. She knew he had
inhabited her dreams—there was still the impression in her mind’s
eye of him moving towards her, no mistaking the intent in the navy
blue eyes, the tension in a jaw that might have been chiselled from
marble. Her lips tingled at the memory of him against her mouth;
the softness and taste of his tongue. Her hands moved over the
fabric of his shirt where it covered her breasts. She wondered how
her skin felt to him. Remembered him taking her nipple between
thumb and forefinger. The pressure he’d applied, sending all the
right signals to her brain and each aching inch of her
body.

Sophie
stretched languidly and rolled over, turned off the alarm
clock.

The sun
was just beginning to rise. It was bound to be a beautiful day, but
she was honest enough to know it was the thought of another
encounter with Reuben that made the light behind the curtains seem
a little more golden this morning, the sound of the birds a bit
sweeter. But what if that anticipated meeting never happened? Would
it be enough to know he was close by?

Sophie
groaned. ‘You’re losing your head!' And then all the brightness of
a moment ago was doused with apprehension. This wasn’t some
twenty-something-year-old boy she was falling for, but a captain of
industry with a playboy reputation. The type was foreign to her,
his world not her world. The life of a conservationist was about as
far removed from a London boardroom as it possibly could be. Her
work was her passion and she had a long and exciting road ahead of
her.

Sophie
felt a little impatient with herself. It would be nothing short of
silly to allow herself to become attached to Reuben Manning. Yes,
they’d shared a drink and a moment of tranquillity on a porch in
Africa last night, but how many evenings had Reuben spent like that
in, say, a year? Not many, Sophie guessed. And that’s exactly what
she wanted from a partner. Many things besides sexual attraction,
no matter how strong. Someone to share her passion, and someone to
a share a porch and a drink with her at the end of each
day.

Sophie
sighed as she took off Reuben’s shirt and stepped into the shower.
Time to start the day. A dose of reality was way
overdue.

She spent
the morning documenting sightings of individual animals and the few
depleted herds still on the farm. Isaac and Sipho, although already
in possession of a wealth of knowledge, were keen to learn anything
new. They were also wonderful company and Sophie was in high
spirits when at lunchtime they headed back to the house with
grumbling tummies.

Reuben
was nowhere to be seen, but she reined in her disappointment and
gave herself a talking-to. She had her work cut out for her on the
farm; it was only now becoming apparent just how depleted its
wildlife had become after years of neglect.

With a
light lunch under her belt, Sophie said goodbye to Rolf and Sara.
Being Saturday, they had the next twenty-four hours off; the first
in a long time, and were heading for Cape Town.

‘
Have a wonderful time,’ Sophie said, hugging Sara.

‘
You need anything,’ the older woman said, ‘just ask Mrs
September.’

Once the
couple had left, Sophie set off again with her rangers.

It was
well after six when she returned to the cottage. She'd just taken a
shower, washing off the day’s heat, dust and block-out, when there
was a knock at the cottage door. It was Patience.

'Mr
Manning say you must come to the verandah. But he say you not to go
in the sprinklers.'

Sophie
smiled. 'Does he need to see me right now?' she asked, pressing a
towel to her wet hair.

'Soon as
you can,' Patience said, then turned and floated elegantly down the
rickety wooden steps that usually protested loudly under Sophie’s
bigger feet.

She went
inside, combed her hair, pulled on a pair of linen drawstring
trousers and a red sleeveless button-up t-shirt. She stepped into
her flip-flops and did her best to stop thinking too far ahead,
which was not hard to do because she had no idea what the evening
held for her. Would he try to make love to her, or ask her to
explain her costings? Her heart may be beating like a nervous
duiker for what could turn out to be a conversation about the state
of the farm’s wildlife.

Sophie
sat herself down on the bed for a moment while she got the facts
straight in her mind: she would not be used as a distraction by a
man who took his pleasure wherever he chose. She would never allow
her career to be derailed by a force of sexual attraction that was
no doubt a passing fancy. Those were the facts. The rest was all
sensations and feelings, and she was stronger than that.

She stood
up from the bed, and twisted and pinned her damp hair into a large
crocodile clip, then left the cottage.

She took
the path that would bring her to the verandah of the main house,
instead of cutting across the lawn.

'Huh!'

She gave
a start as Mr Solomon popped up from behind a rose bush. With a
hand clutched over her heart, Sophie admonished, 'You're going to
have to stop doing that, Mr Solomon. My heart might give
out!'

'Nothing
wrong with your heart,' he said, and handed her a rose. It was the
deepest red; the kind found in the dying embers of an African
sunset—the last light before the sun sinks below the horizon,
disappearing into the mysteries of the dark.

'I
suppose your roses are worth having the life scared out of me.' She
lifted the perfect bloom to her nose and breathed in its sweet
fragrance.

'There's
nothing wrong with your heart,' Mr Solomon repeated. 'Trust it, you
hear me?’ he said sternly. ‘Get going now.' He flapped his hands
towards the house.

Sophie
thanked him and turned in that direction.

She found
Reuben pacing the verandah. He looked up impatiently when he heard
the soft slap of her footsteps on the tiles. 'I thought you'd
bailed on me,' he said, watching her closely.

'Why
would I do that?' Sophie asked, puzzled.

'There's
something I want to show you,' he said, ignoring the question.
'Follow me.'

Sophie
fell into step behind him. He was dressed as she’d never seen him
before: in jeans that did far more for his strongly muscled legs
than the business suits ever could. Sophie was aware of the slow
melt in her groin. She tried to ignore it. He wore a loose linen
shirt he’d left hanging over the waistband.

They
reached the garages, and once inside, Reuben held open the
passenger door of a Land Rover. Sophie sensed that now wasn’t the
time for questions. She slipped past him, her back brushing his
chest, her nerve endings fizzing and sputtering like drops of water
on a hot plate.

Reuben
climbed in beside her and turned to look at her for a moment. It
was a thoughtful stare, head cocked to the side. Sophie smiled in
encouragement. Reuben nodded, turned back to the windshield and
fired the engine.

They set out into the
veld
. Neither spoke, but with every
bump and jolt on the dirt road they sped along, Sophie was aware of
a steady building of tension, like the silence and peculiar clarity
of light that heralded the beginning of a storm. She felt it in her
body and sensed it in the man beside her.

Reuben
brought the vehicle to a stop outside the old hikers' cottage.
Sophie made no move to get out.

‘
Why are we here?’ she asked, outwardly calm, although their
arrival at the cottage had brought back fresh images of her pressed
beneath him, breathing in dank and dust under the wall hanging, his
knee between her thighs.

Reuben
did not respond. He climbed out of the vehicle, came around to her
door and held his hand out to her. ‘Come.’

Sophie
placed her hand in his, almost missing her footing as sensation
sparked in her fingertips. She would have quickly drawn her hand
away, as if burned, but his fingers closed around hers, squeezing
gently as they started towards the cottage.

The
quality of his silence, the straightness of his back and the
fingers he kept entwined in hers caused a calmness to settle over
her. She knew then. Was utterly certain that what was about to
occur would change her forever. She knew that her entire life had
been leading to this moment, to this door, this man beside her, her
hand in his.

The door
opened and they stepped inside.

The cabin had been transformed into a fantasy
bushveld
haven of browns,
creams and ochre; linen, silks and woven thread.

‘
How?’ she breathed, gazing around her.

‘
You approve?’

‘
Do I
approve
?
It’s beautiful. But when did you do all this? We were here… four
days ago. It was in a complete mess…’

‘
When there’s something I want, Sophie, I stop at nothing ’til
I get it.’

The
thudding of Sophie’s heart told her he meant every word he said. He
had spoken with utter certainty. He was standing so close to her
she had felt the breath of his words against the bare skin of her
shoulder. He was a phenomenon. A whirlwind. A tornado. Passing
through her life with such force she wondered if she had the
strength to survive the encounter.

Despite
her statuesque body, strong and toned from years in Africa’s wild
spaces, she felt delicate and fragile beside him. And she wanted to
give in to him so badly. Lose herself in him. Be carried along by
his strength, the sheer force of his masculinity that felt far more
powerful than she was.

She had
worked hard for many things in her life, but nothing had ever felt
this right, so inevitable, as if the universe had conspired to put
her here; exactly where she was meant to be.

‘
It’s beautiful,’ Sophie breathed softly, feeling calm, at
peace; as if she moved in the eye of the storm.

‘
It’s for you, Sophie.’

The
tenderness of his words made her tip backwards, towards him,
knowing he would not let her fall. She felt the press of his chest
against her back. She knew why he had brought her here, the reason
he’d done this for her, but she wanted to hear the sound of his
voice, that sent a frisson of pleasure up her spine.
‘Why?’

He
touched her shoulder; ran fingertips lightly down and along her
bare arms. He kissed her shoulder, his lips feather-light against
her skin. ‘Because I can’t promise you anything… except this,
Sophie; here and now. You deserve more, but I’m not the one to give
you that. Still, I want this to be special for you…’ He paused.
‘This has to be a time apart. There’s no future in it. Do you
understand that, Sophie? Do you accept my terms?’

Sophie
was surprised that his words hurt her. She had fallen further than
she thought. But he was acting with integrity and she understood
the logic of it. She could walk away and wait for the man who would
one day give her a ring, a wedding, babies and evenings on a porch.
Or she could take this moment as a gift, this man who made her feel
as if she were the most vital of women, and deal with her heart at
a later stage.

She
turned slowly to face him, tilted her chin to look into his deep
blue eyes. She allowed herself to dive in as if they were deep
pools; she wanted to float in them, carried on a current too strong
to resist. She wanted to twirl and spin and float and trust this
force to carry her wherever it chose.

He was
waiting for her. Waiting for some signal, and it caused a deep well
of tenderness to bubble in her chest.