A Wedding in Africa (The Africa Series)

by Carnegie, Shirley

  Lacey recognised the man. His name was Thomas and he worked down at the lodges during the day. It was tough, manual labour that must leave him exhausted at the end of a shift. But, on top of all that, it looked like Tate had him doing extra chores at the start and finish of his normal working day.

  The two men were engaged in animated conversation, with Thomas hurrying to keep pace with Tate’s long, easy stride. Even at this hour, Tate looked fit and strong and alert. It was as though he didn’t need the usual supports that ordinary mortals relied on – like sleep and rest! He functioned like a well-oiled machine. A money-making machine as her father had said. And Jasper was probably right.

  Well, that was okay for someone like Tate, Lacey figured, but surely he didn’t expect his staff to give up their spare time just so that he could add to his already substantial fortune. It was bad enough that he was totally fixated on the profits he might get from the lodges, but surely his employees shouldn’t be dragged into his greedy scheme. Fully awake now, Lacey shook her head in silent condemnation before she went back inside to shower and dress for breakfast. Maybe she would talk to Tate later.

  Nandi was in the kitchen whisking eggs for an omelette when Lacey entered. The tantalising smell of grilled bacon and freshly-baked bread reminded her that she was hungry. With an appetite like hers, it was a miracle she wasn’t as big as a house, she always said. But then, next to someone like Tilly Du Preez, she probably did look as big as a house. What a perfectly ghastly thought! It would definitely have to be the cabbage soup diet for her when she got back to Cape Town, she told herself sternly. But not today. Not when presented with one of Nandi’s sumptuous breakfasts.

  Nandi looked up when she entered, with a smile so broad it lit up her entire face. ‘Good morning, Miss Lacey,’ she said. ‘Breakfast will not be long. Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Not really,’ Lacey replied honestly. ‘I had dreams.’

  ‘Do not worry about that. Matshana will soothe away those dreams very soon. The longer you stay here, the more rested you will become.’ ‘You don’t seem to get much time to rest here, Nandi, do you? You were up well before dawn this morning. I saw you.’

  Nandi nodded and lifted a loaf of bread out of the oven. ‘There is much to do here. The Nkosi has great plans.’ ‘Here, let me do that. I’ll butter the bread,’ Lacey reached in the drawer for the knife. ‘It doesn’t leave a lot of time for you, though, Nandi. You must be exhausted with all the extra work you’re having to do.’

  Nandi smiled. ‘I am very strong, Miss Lacey. I do not get tired. Matshana makes me strong.’ Sure it does, Lacey thought bitterly. And Matshana makes Tate Maddox rich. But she kept quiet about her concerns. She didn’t want to rock any boats while she was here. It was just that she couldn’t bear injustice or exploitation, and that’s exactly what seemed to be happening here.

  ‘What about Themba?’ said Lacey. ‘Don’t you want to be able to spend more time with him when he’s home for the holidays?’ ‘The Nkosi has just gone to collect Themba from my house in the village. He will eat his breakfast here with me. Then he will play with the other boys from our village. He has many friends.’

  Lacey could almost feel the pride in Nandi’s voice when she spoke about her son. But then it would be impossible not to love such a dear little boy. If she had a son like Themba she would love him just as much.

  ‘Tate tells me he’s really happy at Whitestones.’ ‘Oh yes. And it is a great honour to go to such a school. He is a bright boy and the Nkosi tells me that his teachers think he will go far. The Nkosi is so kind to us. We are very, very lucky.’

  ‘He clearly adores Themba,’ Lacey spread a pat of butter across a huge hunk of bread. It was still warm and the butter melted into it. ‘The Nkosi is a good man. There are not many men who are as good or as kind. Oh my! If you eat all the bread now, Miss Lacey, you will not have enough room left in your stomach to eat your breakfast!’

  Hastily, Lacey swallowed the chunk of bread she had in her mouth then grinned guiltily at Nandi. ‘Sorry! It’s just so scrummy. And I’m starving!’

  ‘It will not be long before Themba and the Nkosi arrive. And then you can eat as much as you wish.’

  ‘You’re very fond of Tate, aren’t you?’ Lacey said, just about managing to finish her task without munching her way through the rest of the loaf. Nandi nodded. ‘He is a good man. I owe him a lot.’

  ‘I hear he has a brother living in London.’

  Nandi said nothing.

  ‘Gareth, isn’t it?’ Lacey continued. ‘What’s he like? Is he like Tate?’

  Nandi dried her hands on the teacloth and stared out of the window. Her shoulders went rigid and the light dimmed in her eyes. ‘He is not a good man, Miss Lacey. He has caused the Nkosi much pain. I cannot speak well of anyone who has caused such pain, and so I must not say anything.’

  Lacey was shocked to hear the venom in Nandi’s normally placid tone. She was obviously fiercely loyal to Tate and bravely refused to countenance anyone who might harm him. But surely Nandi’s anger would be better directed at the person who had caused her such pain Tate Maddox. The man who had saddled her with a young child to bring up alone – a man who refused even to acknowledge that child as his own.

  Whatever had happened between the Maddox brothers couldn’t possibly be anywhere near as catastrophic as what had happened to Nandi. And yet there was something in Nandi’s tone that would brook no argument where Tate was concerned. She was completely and utterly devoted to him - whatever wrongs he may have committed. But why?

  Lacey figured that there could only be one answer to that question Nandi was in love with Tate. And, like women in love everywhere, she was prepared to overlook his faults, to accept whatever life had to throw at her and to defend the man that she loved – even when he was so obviously in the wrong!

  It was a sobering thought. And one that made Lacey question the strength and integrity of her own feelings for the man she was going to marry. Did Mortimer inspire such unquestioning devotion and loyalty in her? She truly didn’t want to know the answer to that.

  Luckily, her anxious questions were scattered into a million pieces by the noisy arrival of Tate and Themba. The lad was hoisted on Tate’s shoulders and had narrowly missed clunking his head in the doorway. Tate lowered him down to the floor where Themba dissolved in a fit of giggles.

  ‘You wouldn’t be laughing if you’d bashed your head on the doorway, kiddo’ Tate grabbed a piece of bacon and folded it into his mouth. ‘And you’d have got me into deep trouble with your mama here.’

  ‘You are already in trouble for being late,’ Nandi remonstrated, tapping Tate’s hand with the back of a spoon as it edged it way towards a second piece of bacon. ‘And now I see that you are eating with your fingers. You do not set this child a very good example of proper table manners at all. Not at all!’

  Tate shrugged his shoulders and winked at the boy. ‘What can I say? She’s right. Don’t you go using me a role model, Themba lad, or you’ll be sorry. That’s for sure!’

  Themba giggled again and hurled himself at Tate’s legs. ‘Can I sit at the big table with you for my breakfast, Baba?’ he asked plaintively. ‘Sure you can buddy. I’m sure Lacey would love you to join us. Am I right, Lacey?’ ‘You bet,’ Lacey agreed. ‘The more the merrier as far as I’m concerned. And as for eating all the bacon, Tate – I’ve got to confess that I ate most of the bread!’

  Tate roared with laughter, then ducked as Nandi swept past into the dining room carrying a platter of bacon and eggs high above her head ‘And you, child,’ Nandi said as she passed, ‘you must eat in the kitchen here with me. It is not your place to sit at the big table with the Nkosi. He and Miss Lacey will not want to be bothered with your childish prattle at this time of day.’

  ‘Rubbish!’ Tate argued. ‘He’ll be a darn sight more interesting than me right now. All I want to do is sit and eat. I’m ravenous.’

  ‘Me, too!’ Lacey concurred. ‘And if you’re okay with
it, Nandi, I’d love Themba to join us.’ Themba whooped with delight and raced past them into the breakfast room. Tate and Nandi followed chuckling to themselves. Behind them, Lacey contemplated the delightful family scene with a vague sense of longing - jealousy, even.

  She could still picture her own mother - a beautiful, intelligent woman. When she was a child, Lacey used to sit and watch her mother as they ate their breakfast together in Cape Town. She would studiously copy her mother’s posture and mannerisms, echoing her choice of words and phrases. Lacey was just a little girl then, but she had known instinctively that this was someone to look up to and admire. Someone to love.

  Later, as a teenager, Lacey had been so proud of the striking woman who was always there for her at school speech days, family gatherings and, more importantly, when she needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to talk to - someone who would understand. And care.

  Lacey could still picture her mother’s eyes. They were green, just like hers. But far more beautiful, she’d always thought. Her mother had loved her so much. So completely. So unconditionally. In fact, no-one had ever loved her the way her darling mother had loved her. And, in return, Lacey had adored her mother. Worshipped her. But then, so had Michael.

  Lacey’s thoughts were dragged back to the present by the sound of Tate’s cell phone ringing in his shirt pocket. He took it out and flipped it open, frowning in concentration as he listened to the person speaking on the other end.

  ‘Okay. Hang in there. I’ll be over in a tick.’ Tate gulped the last of his

  coffee and pushed his chair back from the table. ‘We’ve got a new-born calf in one of the pens. She’s having trouble suckling. I’m going over there right now. Do you want to come? See how we do things around here?’

  ‘Oh Tate! I’d love to see a new-born calf. What an amazing experience that would be.’ Lacey grabbed her hat from the back of the chair. ‘Are you sure I won’t get in the way?’

  ‘I’ll let you know if you do,’ Tate grinned. He looked down as a tiny fist clutched at the bottom of his shirt.

  ‘May I come, too, Baba? I would like to see the baby calf. I promise I won’t get in the way either.’ Tate shrugged. ‘Okay, but you’ve got to stand still next Lacey and be as quiet as a mouse. The calf’s only a little baby, not a great, big boy like you, and you mustn’t frighten her. Okay? Do we have a deal?’

  Themba nodded solemnly and, as if to prove his point, he held Lacey’s hand obediently as he tiptoed out to Tate’s truck. He clambered up on to the seat next to Lacey and clung to the dashboard in total silence.

  ‘I think it’s okay to make a little bit of noise while we’re still here,’ Lacey whispered against the soft curls at the back of his head. ‘You only need to be quiet when we’re in with the calf.’

  That was the cue Themba needed to release his pent-up excitement, and he promptly burst forth with a host of questions. As a result, the drive across to the eastern side of the estate was accompanied by the incessant chatter of one very boisterous five-year-old.

  When they got there, the new-born calf had already been wrapped in a blanket and placed in a box in a warm corner of the barn, well away from draughts. She’d been rubbed with wisps of hay to prevent chilling, and her navel had been dressed with tincture of iodine to avoid infection. But she hadn’t started suckling and her mother was still very weak.

  ‘Have you taken some fresh milk from the dam?’ Tate asked one of the farmhands.

  ‘Yes sah. Here is the bucket.’ ‘Thanks Joseph. Good work.’ Tate grabbed the pail from the man and put it on the floor beside the calf. He then rolled up his shirt sleeves and dropped on to his haunches beside the ailing infant. ‘Okay. Now push her against the back of the box. That’s it. Steady. Hamble gashle. Go easy there. Now put some of the milk into this bowl.’

  Joseph poured some of the mother’s precious colostrum-rich milk into a shallow feeding bowl. He handed it to Tate who was now sitting cross legged on the floor, shoulders leaning back against the barn wall.

  Lacey gripped Themba’s shoulders as the two of them stood watching the scene with wide-eyed wonder. Themba reached up and took Lacey’s fingers in his own, needing her reassurance that the new-born would survive. Lacey gave them a comforting squeeze, but she couldn’t drag her eyes away from Tate and the calf.

  Tate was sweating slightly. His brow was damp and his hair was sticking up in odd angles on top of his head. It didn’t help that he kept running his fingers through it, which left dusty trails across his forehead and gave him a curious warrior-like appearance. Blissfully unaware of just how rugged and wild he now looked, Tate reached out and tenderly drew the bewildered infant towards him, whispering soothing sounds as he did so.

  Lacey held her breath. She didn’t know which was more captivating – this gorgeous, hunky man with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his handsome features creased in concentration, or the enchanting new-born calf whose very life depended on the farmer’s skills.

  ‘Come on sweetheart,’ Tate whispered, dipping his right forefinger into the milk and working it into the calf’s mouth. ‘Nice and easy…. That’s right. Clever girl. Joseph - can you hold her head up? We don’t want her suckling head down. That’s it. Hold her steady, now.’

  Gently, Tate waited until he could feel the infant starting to suckle his finger before he withdrew it and guided her head into the bowl of milk. Themba and Lacey stood there, utterly transfixed by the scene, which had rendered even Themba momentarily speechless. Tate looked up at them.

  ‘Is she going to be all right?’ Lacey whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer. ‘See for yourself,’ Tate replied, gesturing towards the calf with his chin. ‘She’s suckling quite nicely now. We’ll probably have to hand-feed her for a couple of days, but then she’ll be as right as rain and back with her mother. Job done, I reckon!’

  Lacey and Themba hugged each other as Tate placed the calf in Joseph’s capable hands and stood up. Tate grinned, clearly chuffed with the outcome of his efforts, and Lacey felt her heart swell with pride.

  ‘Well done, Tate,’ she said, resisting the urge to hug him. ‘All in a day’s work,’ Tate shrugged, but Lacey could see how much it had meant to him that the youngster had survived. Here was a man who loved animals with a passion. Someone who was ready and willing to work hard to improve their quality of life and understand their ways. And Lacey really admired the man for that.

  ‘Why was the baby calf so poorly’ Themba asked, skipping alongside them as they walked back to the truck. ‘Because her mummy was sick,’ Tate replied.

  ‘Did the calf come out of its mummy’s tummy, just like me?’

  Tate nodded and opened the passenger door for Themba to scramble up. ‘So what would have happened if my mummy had had a baby calf in her tummy instead of me?’ Themba continued as the adults took their seats on either side of him. ‘Would I be a baby calf instead of a baby boy?’

  Tate laughed out loud. ‘No. It doesn’t quite work like that.’ ‘How does it work, Baba? How did I get into my mummy’s tummy. I am much too big to fit in there.’ Tate cast a sidelong glance at Lacey who blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘It’s - well, it’s pretty complicated, Themba. It’s a grown-up thing. Maybe you’d be better off asking your mama about that kind of stuff. Listen, I’ve got some toffees in there. I reckon you’ve earned yourself one.’

  The promise of sweets may have distracted young Themba from the miracles of reproduction, but it didn’t help quell the fire in Lacey’s stomach. She knew that Tate felt it, too, by the way his hand gripped the steering wheel and he gnawed at his bottom lip. The tension between them was palpable, and even Themba’s animated chatter couldn’t relieve it.

  Themba ran off to tell his mother about the day’s events the minute they got back to the house. Tate and Lacey made their way to their rooms at the side of the building. Just as they got there, Tate stopped dead in his tracks and inspected his grubby T-shirt with dismay.

  ‘Hell! Just look at
the state of me. I’d better get myself cleaned up pronto. I’m amazed you could even bring yourself to sit next to me in the truck.’ Unthinkingly, Tate tore open the buttons from his shirt and shrugged it off before slinging it over the wall of the outdoor shower.

  At the sight of that hard torso gleaming in the sun, Lacey almost swooned. She’d been struggling to control her emotions on the journey back, but now here he was standing right in front of her, half-naked, and completely irresistible. Inadvertently, her gaze took in the well defined pack of solid stomach muscles, the light mat of curling chest hair, and the fine line of hair running down from his navel to the top of his jeans.

  Lacey gulped and hurriedly averted her eyes. ‘Well, I did keep the window wide open,’ she joked in a bid to lighten the mood. ‘And I was fully prepared to frog-march you into that shower if I had to!’

  Tate grinned. ‘You’re not so pristine yourself, missy. You’ve got dust on your cheeks.’ He reached out to brush it away and Lacey felt a jolt of electricity sear through her veins when his fingers touched her skin. Instinctively, she tilted her head to meet his caress, and she heard him draw a long, deep breath.

  Tate didn’t really know why he suddenly felt the urge to touch her. Maybe it was because she looked so damn beautiful standing there. All he knew was that he wanted to wrap his arms around those tantalising curves and feel her body pressed up close against his. The skin on her cheek felt soft, like satin, when he touched it, and his body hardened involuntarily. God, but he wanted this woman. Needed her.

  But he knew that he couldn’t have her. Shouldn’t even want her. She was engaged to be married, for God’s sake, to some bloke down in Cape Town. So what the hell was he doing even thinking such things? He must be out of his mind to be playing around with a woman like Lacey Van der Zyl.

  It was madness. Sheer madness. And it had to stop! Abruptly, he pulled his hand back and turned away. ‘Look, I’d better grab a shower and clean up. I’ve got to drive into town later. Do you want to come?’