No Greater Joy

by Rosemary Carter

  There had been a letter from Timmy's mother. She was out of the hospital, and his father would be released soon. This was wonderful news indeed, and contributed immensely to Timmy's state of mind.

  There was only one thing the little boy seemed to need to make his happiness complete. He wanted to go on a trail-ride. He was becoming so obsessed with the idea that he talked of it constantly. The short rides the other children of his group enjoyed—along the shortish path, with Alison walking beside the horse and holding the rein—were not enough for him.

  'Why can't I go on a trail-ride?' he wanted to know.

  Alison looked up from the pony she was grooming and laughed. 'Now, how many times have you asked me that question?'

  'But why can't I, Alison?'

  'Because trail-riding is not for your group, Timmy. You know that.'

  'I want to go so badly, Alison. I can ride better than the other kids.'

  'That's true,' she agreed.

  'Then why?'

  'It's the rule.'

  'But it's not fair! I can ride, Alison, you know I can.'

  Alison did know it. She remembered herself at Timmy's age, galloping over the veld with her father. The hours on her horse had been among the happiest ones of her growing-up years.

  Timmy had spent more time with the horses than the sixteen-year-olds. He loved horses dearly, and understood them. A trail-ride would remain in his memory as the highlight of camp.

  But Virginia had made herself clear on the subject. Timmy was ten years old, and at Bushveld Camp ten- year-olds did not go on trail-rides.

  Privately, Alison agreed with Timmy that Virginia's rule was not fair. A child's ability to cope with a longer ride should be the only factor in deciding who could participate, not the child's age. But she did not undermine Virginia's authority by telling Timmy that.

  'Rules are rules,' she said. And then, to distract him, 'My goodness, Timmy, just look at all that dust on Lady's saddle! Do you think you'd have time to clean it for me?'

  * * *

  With only three days left till the end of camp, Alison went to bed with a heavy heart. There was still no word from Clint. It had never occurred to her that she might leave Bushveld without seeing him again.

  She did not know at what point in the night she became aware that someone was in her bed. For a moment she was quite sure she was dreaming.

  But the warmth of the long, hard body that had curled itself snugly around hers was no dream. In a second her whole body had grown rigid.

  'Clint?' she exclaimed disbelievingly.

  'Mm,' grunted a sleepy voice.

  'What on earth are you doing here?'

  There was no answer as Clint curled himself more tightly around her, and an arm went around her, holding her just beneath her breasts. His breathing was slow and steady.

  'Are you really asleep, Clint?' she whispered.

  'Been travelling all day without a break,' he muttered groggily.

  Alison decided to let him go on sleeping, although there would be no more rest for her tonight.

  Gripped by a savage joy, she lay quite still within the warm embrace of his body. He was all around her, enveloping her, his thighs and hips against hers, the roughness of his chest against her back.

  Gently, so as not to waken him, she took his hand and laid it on her breast. And then she put her own hand over his. Excitement began to fill her body, hot waves of desire flooding through her, one upon the other. Never before in her life had she been quite so desperate to make love as she was now.

  It was dawn—and Alison had lain for hours drinking in the seductive maleness of Clint's body—when he stirred. The hand on her breast moved, tightened, the fingers beginning to caress her nipple. She held her breath, wondering if he was still sleeping. And then she felt him throb against her in the beginnings of desire, and she knew he was awake.

  'Clint...'

  His only answer was to nuzzle his lips against the back of her throat.

  'What are you doing here?'

  'Holding you,' he murmured. 'Dying to make love to you.'

  Her heart was racing, and her body felt hot. But she laughed as she said, 'Rascal!' and turned in his arms.

  He was so close to her that their noses touched on the pillow. 'When did you get back to camp, Clint?' she asked.

  'After midnight. Everyone was asleep.'

  'And I suppose you'd mislaid the key to your cabin?'

  She knew the answer to that one, but she wanted to hear him say it.

  His hands slid beneath the top of her pyjamas. 'Of course, not.'

  'Then why are you here?' She was finding it harder and harder to breathe.

  He was caressing her back now, the erotic touch of his fingers making her blood course like a veld-fire through her veins. 'I wanted to be with you.'

  'And so you just walked straight in.'

  With his tongue, he traced a line around her lips. 'As you see.'

  Alison's heart was pounding so hard in her chest that she thought he must hear it. It was a double pounding because she could feel the beat of his heart as well as her own. 'You never thought to ask?'

  'You were asleep. Can you imagine sleeping together every night, Alison?'

  Every night until the end of camp must be what he meant. But there were so few nights left to them.

  'You could have woken me...' she began.

  'I enjoyed watching you sleep. Besides, the last time we met—after that wretched party of Brian's—you were so insistent that you never wanted to set eyes on me again.'

  'That was a long time ago,' she said unsteadily.

  'Did you mean what you said then?'

  'I... At the time I did.'

  'And now, Alison?' His voice was suddenly husky.

  And she was able to say, 'Not now. Clint, I'm so sorry about what happened that night.'

  He whispered against her mouth, 'No sorrier than I am for my own part in it.'

  'I should have told you I'd changed my plans.'

  'Even if you had told me, chances are I'd have been just as angry. I wanted you to come up the mountain with me that night.'

  'Clint...'

  'Alison, it's over.'

  'Do you mean that?' she asked incredulously.

  'I don't know why you went to the party, but I'd be happy if we could put it behind us. Forget the whole thing ever happened.' He was looking at her. 'I'm willing to, if you are, Alison.'

  'Yes,' she whispered. It was hard to believe that he would make it so easy for her.

  'Do you know how beautiful you are when you sleep?' he asked, so close to her that he seemed to be breathing the words between her lips.

  'You could tell me.'

  Laughter bubbled in his throat, as his hands moved downwards, shaping themselves to her hips, her buttocks, the tops of her thighs. 'I'm telling you all the time, Alison, in my own way. Don't you know that?'

  What did she know? That he desired her. That she desired him. That their bodies called out to each other, ached for each other. Oh, yes, she knew that. But did he love her?

  'And you, Alison, what are you telling me?'

  She was confused. 'What do you mean?'

  'When I woke up, I found my hand on your breast.'

  She moved against him. 'Yes.'

  'Do you know what it does to me when you move like that?' Clint groaned, and pulled her closer against him. 'Alison, I don't remember putting my hand on your breast before I went to sleep.'

  'You didn't,' she whispered.

  'Did you put it there?' His breathing had quickened. 'Yes...'

  'Does that mean you were glad to find me in your bed?'

  It was not possible for her to be coy with him. They had gone too far for that, and coyness had never been her scene, anyway. Besides, her warm body must give him all the answers he wanted.

  'Yes, I was glad.'

  Bending over her, he cupped her head in his hands so that he could kiss her, and after a moment she was kissing him too—long, hungry kiss
es, as if they were trying to make up for all the time they had been apart. They touched each other's bodies with their hands, caressing all the while that they were kissing. Clint's passions called forth an answering passion deep inside Alison, so that nothing mattered save for her body's urgent response to his. His lips and tongue brushed her throat and the soft swell of her breasts, creating trails of fire wherever they touched her warm, sensitive skin. And Alison, passion making her abandoned, let her hands move over him, her fingers seeking the hardness of his shoulders and sliding over the roughness of his chest.

  But after a while Clint lifted his head. 'I missed you so much.' His voice was rough.

  She looked back at him. 'You never wrote to me, never phoned.'

  Uncharacteristically, he hesitated before saying, 'No.'

  'Because of the fight we had after Brian's party?'

  'No, it wasn't that.'

  'Then why not? You could have been in touch, Clint.'

  'Yes, I could,' he agreed.

  'But you decided not to.' All the pent-up longing, the doubts and fears, turned to anger. 'Now you have the nerve to say that you missed me!'

  'I did.'

  'I don't know whether to believe you.'

  'Are we having another fight, Alison?'

  'If that's what you want to call it,' she said hotly. 'Were you having such a good time while you were away that you forgot I existed?' 'This isn't the girl I left behind,' drawled Clint after a long moment. 'The girl who didn't want to care about anyone else. Does this mean you've changed, Alison?'

  She couldn't trust herself to answer the question. Instead, as calmly as she could, she said, 'I just wonder why you didn't bother to be in touch.'

  'There was a reason, Alison.'

  'Was there really?'

  'Yes, darling. And in my own time I'll tell it to you. Can you trust me till then?'

  I'd trust you with my life, she thought, and wondered whether the endearment meant anything.

  'I think so.'

  'And I think we're talking a dam sight too much.'

  With one lithe movement he pulled her across him, so that she was lying on top of him. One of her legs slid between his, and her arms went around his neck. And then Clint kissed her until she was almost insane with pleasure.

  The first sounds of morning were beginning to filter through into the cabin, but Alison hardly heard them. She and Clint had never shared an intimacy quite like this. His legs had wrapped themselves around hers, so that she could feel the throb of his desire against her. It was at the same time frightening and exciting to know that she had such power to arouse the man she loved.

  We Tit together, she thought exultantly. Our bodies were made for each other. What we do together is right and lovely. It's the way it was meant to be.

  She parted when there was a quick rap on the door, and a voice called, 'Alison, wake up!'

  Alison stiffened in Clint's arms. 'Mary,' she whispered against his ear.

  'Alison! Are you awake? Time for breakfast!'

  'Better answer her,' Clint advised quietly.

  'Go on without me,' she called back. 'I'll see you in a few minutes.'

  Clint gave a ragged laugh as Mary walked away. 'You've just been granted your reprieve,' he said.

  'Reprieve?' Her voice was choked.

  'We can hardly make love now, not when you're expected to show yourself at breakfast.' He pushed himself a little away from her, so that he could look down into her eyes. 'I wonder if you would have let me make love to you, Alison?'

  She looked back at him wordlessly. Her body was on fire, the emotions that raged inside her like nothing she had ever known. She wanted to speak, but her mouth was so dry that the words did not make it past her lips.

  'I'm a normal man, Alison, and I can't take this suspense much longer. More than anything in the world I want to make love to you. I'd like to stay with you all day.'

  'I know...'

  'But it's not fated to be.' With an obvious effort, he pushed himself away from her.

  'No.' She was beyond saying anything more than the simplest words.

  'I'll come and see you again tonight, Alison.'

  'All right,' she whispered.

  Clint pulled her to him for a final kiss. 'No partying with Brian tonight,' he warned. 'I can't answer for what will happen if you're not here!'

  Breakfast was almost over when Clint walked into the big meal tent. He had showered and shaved and changed his clothes since Alison had seen him, and despite the fact that he'd had little sleep, he looked fresh and rested.

  Virginia officially welcomed Clint back to camp. He made jokes with the children and friendly conversation with the counsellors, catching up on all the news that had happened in his absence. There were even a few innocuous remarks to Alison.

  Alison moved through the day in a kind of glow. While she worked with the horses, and took the older campers for a ride through the foothills, her mind was on Clint.

  When Timmy began his daily pleading to go on a trail- ride, she smiled at him. 'We've been over this, honey,' she reminded him.

  'Camp will be over in a few days. I want to go so badly, Alison!'

  'I know you do.'

  'The older kids went on a special ride today—I heard them talking. Can't I just go on one small ride of my own?'

  The eyes were as big and as eloquent as ever. Alison always found herself smiling whenever she looked at Timmy. Even now that he was over his accident, and feeling happier about his parents, there was something about the little boy that endeared itself to her.

  'Virginia wouldn't like it,' she pointed out.

  'She wouldn't have to know.'

  He was a difficult child to refuse. Besides, he really wasn't asking for much. He was good with horses, and she knew he could cope with a ride. The fact that Virginia's rules were unreasonable wasn't Timmy's fault.

  It was partly her relaxed and happy state, partly the fact that camp was almost over, that finally led Alison to give in. Would it really be so wrong to let Timmy have the one thing that he would remember long after camp had ended? Virginia need never know about it.

  Timmy was quite ecstatic as Alison saddled up two horses. She smiled as she watched how confidently he mounted the smaller one. He was bubbling with enthusiasm as they left the paddock and walked the horses in the direction of one of the easier trails.

  All the way he chatted happily. Watching how well he handled the horse and himself, Alison was glad she had given him the one thing he'd longed for so much. Timmy was as at home on a horse as she had been at his age. There were rules that were meant to be broken, and in breaking this one no harm would be done to anyone.

  They were almost back at camp when it happened. A snake slithered across the path. Alison saw it in time, and managed to control her rearing horse. She shouted a warning to Timmy, but it was too late. Timmy's horse had reared as well. Timmy, caught off his guard, fell to the ground as the horse galloped away in the direction of the stables.

  'Timmy!' Alison had leaped from her horse in a second and was kneeling beside the child. Her heart was in her throat as she saw his awkward, twisted position on the ground. 'Timmy, honey, are you all right?'

  He grimaced up at her from the ground. 'My leg feels funny.'

  She made an effort to control her panic. 'The leg that was broken in the motor accident?'

  'Yes.' He was trying very hard not to cry.

  'Do you think you can walk, honey?'

  He shifted position. 'I don't know.'

  'Don't even try.' Alison put her arm around him. 'I'm going to carry you back on my horse.'

  His mouth was trembling. 'Virginia's gonna be angry.'

  'Let's not think about Virginia now,' Alison said grimly. 'The important thing is to see that you're OK.'

  But there would be hell to pay when Virginia found out what had happened, Alison knew. Which happened almost immediately. When a couple of campers saw Alison riding into the camp grounds, holding Timmy in her arms,
they ran to tell Virginia. By the time Alison reached the stables she was met by a reception committee comprised of Virginia and Clint and a gathering of children.

  Clint took Timmy out of Alison's arms. Alison tried to speak, but Virginia silenced her with a grim, 'Later.' It was a tense and silent group that made its way to the sick-bay.

  Only when the door had been closed on the interested campers did Virginia speak. 'You took Timmy on a ride—against my orders!'

  'I nagged her,' Timmy began, but Alison interrupted him.

  'It was my own idea,' she said tersely. 'Look, I know I was wrong, but before we talk about that, please can we see if Timmy is all right?'

  'Yes,' said Clint, who was bending over the little boy. 'Same leg, Timmy?'

  'Yes.'

  'We*d better have it seen to.'

  The child looked scared. 'I don't want to go to hospital.'

  Clint put his hand on his shoulder. 'We'll have to drive into totfn and see a doctor,' he told him.

  Seeing the fear in Timmy's eyes, Alison said, 'Couldn't we let Wendy have a look at him first?' Besides being a counsellor, Wendy was also a registered nurse, and she looked after the usual minor ailments in the sick-bay.

  'How typical of your irresponsible attitude, Alison!' snapped Virginia. 'Don't you realise this could be serious?'

  Clint's eyes met Alison's. 'In view of the fact that the leg was broken previously, I don't think we should waste any time. I really think it's necessary for a doctor to see Timmy.'

  'Yes, of course.' Alison forbore to point out that her suggestion that Wendy look at Timmy's leg first had been made only because the little boy looked so petrified.

  'I'll come, too,' said Alison.

  'You've done enough damage for one day,' said Virginia.

  'I'd really like to go, Clint.' Alison threw the man she loved a look of appeal. 'I feel so bad about what happened. And I want to...'

  But Virginia stopped her coolly. 'I'll go with Clint and Timmy. As for you, Alison, I'm sure you have work to do. I suggest you get back to it.'

  Alison's eyes went once more to the man who just a few hours earlier had been in her bed, but the look he gave back to her was impersonal. 'It's better this way,' was all he said.

  'Look,' said Alison, a little desperately, 'I'm so dreadfully sorry this happened. It was a freak accident—a snake frightened the horses.'