by Andrea Barry
"Something like that, I suppose—are you?"
"No, of course not." Patricia had to laugh. What a suspicious man he was! Was it because he cared for her?
"I like Derek as a friend, that's all, Armand."
"And he—is he as platonic with you as you are with him?" Armand persisted.
"What is this, Armand, the Spanish Inquisition?" Patricia was getting annoyed. "Derek is very prim and proper with me, and in case you're worried, he has never made a pass at me. We are good friends, that's all. Besides, we—we just don't have much in common."
"No, I guess you wouldn't. His interests aren't as varied as yours." His eyes lost their scrutiny and became soft and very blue again.
"If you're not tired of the African wilderness, I'll take you on a real safari in the bush, Patrice. We have a lodge in one of the wildlife sanctuaries here in Kenya. You can fly with me there later today, and tomorrow morning I'll take you on an expedition that will be a real adventure in the wild."
"That sounds wonderful, Armand," Patricia said, as she remembered the thrilling boat trip that they had taken together in Abidjan, to the Island of Birds. "I enjoyed what you showed me of the wilderness in the Ivory Coast so much."
"Did you? I'm glad! I had a feeling you might like it."
"I'm really sorry I didn't have time to see more of Abidjan," Patricia went on. "I wish I could have seen the housing and educational projects you told me about."
"Ah—you'll just have to return to Abidjan, petite Patrice."
The sun had long ago climbed to its zenith when Patricia realized she and Armand had been talking nonstop for heaven knows how long. She found herself very interested in Armand's work, especially his dedication to helping needy children. Armand, in return, had listened carefully to what Patricia had to say of her own work and interests. She was impressed by his understanding of her aims, and even more so the problems she encountered as a dance therapist. She felt very close to him as the conversation continued.
"You know, Patrice," Armand said, "I think we would never run out of subjects to share, no matter how much time we spent together." Patricia had to agree. Time went fast when she was with Armand. She noticed they hadn't touched their coffee, and she was about to get up to reheat it when Armand's arm restrained her.
"Stay close to me, sweet Patrice," he murmured, moving his hand to her bare shoulders and caressing her lightly with his long fingers. They traveled to her neck, then to her ears, producing instant sparks within Patricia's body that made her tremble, igniting her with a searing fire.
"Have you any idea how I have missed you?" His lips now touched her ear, his mouth pressing warmly against her.
"Did you?" Patricia moaned so softly, her words were barely audible.
"Patrice, chérie …" His voice was now no more than a murmur, the sound of his harsh rapid breath saying more than his words. He bent his head toward Patricia's lips, waiting in readiness for his. "I want you, Patrice." His lips traveled down her throat. The touch of his mouth cooled her burning flesh.
Patricia knew that he had voiced what had all along been a suppressed desire in her own mind. She yielded to his touch, pliant in his strong arms. Her ear was pressed to his bare chest, and she listened to the wild beat of his heart.
His lips explored her shoulders, his hands moving gently down, uncovering the curve of her bosom before trailing kisses down her collarbone to the valley between her breasts. Her body cried out to him as he picked her up in his arms, rising gracefully from the settee. He was moving toward her bedroom and Patricia made no move to stop him.
Armand took no more than a couple of steps when he halted so suddenly that Patricia thought he would drop her on the floor.
He turned and put her down roughly on the settee and stood towering over her, his chest heaving. His eyes, so soft and violet-blue, were instantly those of a madman. His whole face was a mask of fury. He stood still for a moment, forcing his breath back to normal.
Patricia shrank back on the couch, not recognizing the man before her.
"When did you take up smoking a pipe, Patrice?" he said through clenched teeth. His words were deliberate and toneless.
Patricia followed his gaze, now riveted to the floor where Derek's pipe had fallen the evening before. She hadn't noticed it at the time. She had been busy trying to revive Derek, passed out on the couch.
"I—I didn't, I…" Patricia had a hard time thinking of what to say. Armand frightened her. "It belongs to a… friend—to Derek." She managed to speak with difficulty, turning her head away from Armand's cold eyes. She felt a rising anger at the way Armand behaved.
"Derek!" Armand's words were a sudden thunder. "What does this mean, Patrice?!" He bent over her, gripping her arm with steely fingers, as she kept her head averted from him.
The punishing grip of his hand became even tighter, and he shook her, forcing her to look at him.
"What was Derek doing here, in your room in the middle of the night? I know it was the middle of the night, because the two of you hadn't returned yet when I went to bed!"
"You're hurting my arm," Patricia hissed. She should have said nothing. It only made matters worse.
"You're lucky it's only your arm," Armand growled, not letting go.
Tears of pain gathered in Patricia's eyes. Yet she was fascinated by the savage turmoil she had caused him. His face was wracked by uncontrolled emotion. "You'd better answer me," he seethed, no longer suppressing his fury. "Did Derek force his way in here? Tell me what Derek was doing here in the middle of the night?"
"I invited Derek here." Her words cut through his fury like a knife.
The hand that held Patricia's arm fell limp to his side and he moved away from her as though she were a leper. His eyes became opaque and lifeless.
"You invited him to your room?" His whole body slumped. "But why, Patrice, why?"
"I invited him because I wanted to." Patricia rubbed her arm to ease the pain of his grip. "You don't own me, Armand." Let him think whatever he wants, the brute. It was time Patricia let him know she was her own person.
"Derek. Of all the people, you would choose Derek." Armand mumbled. "My friend Derek… heaven knows, you are a beautiful woman, Patrice, and any man in his right mind would want you—I don't blame Derek, I don't blame him at all."
"That's big of you," Patricia cut in. She wished Armand would leave. The whole scene was getting out of hand.
"To think you would give in to Derek."
"Oh, according to your book, every girl should only give unto you, Monsieur le Comte." Patricia sneered.
"Oh, no, most certainly not—not every girl… but you, Patrice, are the woman I…" Armand seemed shaken by some inner turmoil, his dark curls clinging to his damp forehead.
Patricia had never imagined that this sophisticated, glib man, so in control of every situation, could be at a loss for words. She had hurt him deeply. She wished for a moment that she could turn back the clock. She hadn't wanted to hurt him like this. Patricia wanted to rush up to him, smooth his brow, explain to him there was no need for his torment but she felt it was too late.
He raised his head and stood erect again. "So be it," he said slowly, piercing Patricia with eyes that had become hard and steely.
"Innocent little Patrice…" he pronounced her name with derision. "Was that all an act, your fight for your virtue? Is there, perhaps, no such thing? Did you find me repulsive from the very beginning and so were stringing me along just for the sake of some cruel game you were playing?"
He moved his eyes away and seemed to speak to himself now. "What a fool I've been with you…"
"You're a fine one to speak of playing games."
Patricia felt sorry for him no longer. "What about you and your Mademoiselle Simone, and your Brigitte Duval—you philanderer."
But she could tell he didn't hear her. He moved like a sleepwalker, as he left the room not looking back, slamming the door behind.
Chapter Seven
"Hello, A
rmand." Patricia could hear Derek's greeting through the open window of her room. "Are you staying for the day?"
"No, I think not, Derek. I'll be leaving right away."
Patricia knew all too well why Armand was leaving in a rush. He didn't want to be under the same roof with her, convinced she was having an affair with Derek.
"Want me to refuel the plane?" Derek asked.
"Yes, would you? I'll get my gear. See you at the aircraft in a few minutes."
"Sure thing."
The two would then, Patricia suspected, talk about her. She wondered what Derek would tell Armand if he were pressed for an explanation. Perhaps she'd find out later.
But what did it matter, anyway? Armand had a temper she couldn't cope with. A relationship with him was impossible—she wouldn't give him another thought!
Patricia decided to join her aunt on the veranda.
"Good morning, Patricia. Come and join me," the older woman said pleasantly. She was just sitting down to breakfast. "Armand was just here." She continued, when Patricia settled across the table from her, "I was hoping he would stay on this morning, but it seems he has some urgent business to look after. He told me you had coffee together earlier."
"Yes, we did." Actually they never got around to drinking their coffee, but Patricia felt it was best not to burden her aunt with what had transpired.
"Did he tell you about the safari he's planning for tomorrow?"
"Yes, he mentioned it." Patricia doubted that Armand still wanted her to go.
"The Vincents have a game lodge in southern Kenya, near the port city of Mombasa. It's inside a game sanctuary. You can watch exotic animals right from the lodge—from your room, as a matter of fact."
"It sounds lovely."
"You'll enjoy the safari tomorrow, I'm sure…"
"Are you coming too, Aunt Pat?"
"I'd love to, but I can't this time. I have so much to do here just now."
She picked up a calendar from a small desk by the window.
"My goodness, Patricia," she said. "It seems your vacation will soon be over."
"Yes, time has gone by awfully fast."
"I wish you'd stay longer, child. You know you're welcome to stay at Keekoroti as long as your heart desires."
"Thank you, Aunt Pat, but I'm anxious to get back to my work."
This was true enough. However, there was also her involvement with Armand. If she stayed on, she would see more of him, and that was apt to cause her problems she simply couldn't handle emotionally. And yet… some part of her wanted to be with Armand. In a way, she already missed him. Could she really blame him for being jealous? Wasn't he hurt because he cared for her? And hadn't she been jealous of him too?
She had to answer all these questions in the affirmative.
"Derek will fly you to the Vincent lodge," Aunt Pat said. "You go and have a good time, and when you come back, you'll have to decide on your costume for the ball."
"The ball… but of course—the masquerade ball!"
Patricia had almost forgotten about the yearly costume ball to celebrate Aunt Pat's birthday, which fell on the same day as her own. The ball had been a tradition of long standing at Keekoroti.
"My husband organized the first masquerade soon after we were married," Aunt Pat explained. "He had a great imagination and made special rules for it, so it became a game. Everyone is masked and at midnight the ladies get to choose their dancing partners. Then at the end of the dance the masks are discarded."
"You mean no one is certain who they've been dancing with until after midnight?"
"Yes, exactly! We've had some amusing incidents over the years." Aunt Pat broke into laughter. "Sometimes a girl would find that the man she asked for the midnight dance was someone she had meant to ignore—all in good fun of course."
"It sounds like great fun, Aunt Pat." Patricia would especially enjoy making a costume for the ball.
"But for now, Patricia, pack a bag for tomorrow's safari. It promises to be a special treat. I hear Armand will trap zebra. He's one of the very few men who knows how to hunt them."
A hunt for zebra? Armand a killer, on top of everything else—how could Aunt Pat go along with such a cruel sport?
Patricia was still horrified at the thought of witnessing the killing of animals when she got into the plane with Derek the next morning. It was something she had been sure was prohibited in Kenya. Would she be forced to witness the cruel slaughter?
Her quandary was soon solved as Derek brought up the subject as soon as they were airborne and flying smoothly.
"You will see a rare hunt for the unusual Grevy's zebra. I'm sure you will enjoy it," he said matter-of-factly.
"But, Derek, I thought the animals here were under strict protection!"
"They are." Derek had to speak very loudly over the steady roar of the airplane's engine. "We use the word 'hunting' when we refer to the trapping of animals these days. In this case, it's to save them from extinction. The Grevy's zebra was almost hunted out of existence before the stringent conservation laws were put into effect. It's a very beautiful animal. It differs from the common zebra in its markings and in the shape of its ears. The few animals that are left, live in areas where natural predators have made their survival impossible. The zebra are trapped and transported to safe areas where they are able to breed. Armand is one of the few experts who know how to trap them."
Patricia relaxed in her seat, totally relieved.
The flight to the game lodge was short. Soon Derek and Patricia were landing on a narrow airstrip literally cut out of the scrubby bushland. Derek brought the aircraft to a stop and came around to let Patricia out.
"This way," he said pleasantly, picking up her bag. "Prom here we go by Jeep."
The area seemed deserted. There was a guard at a tall wooden gate, and he opened it so Derek could drive the Jeep through. In a matter of minutes they arrived in front of a sprawling, rustic lodge.
"Couldn't we have walked over?" Patricia asked.
"No. We are now inside the wild game reserve. You're forbidden to be on foot here. Chances are you will not meet any dangerous animals during the day, but one is not allowed to take that risk."
The lodge, Patricia noticed, stood on stilts. She followed Derek up steps that led to a wooden door, which was opened by a servant. They entered a very large room, surrounded by windows that faced the wilderness. Tastefully furnished, the room was rustic in character and served both as a living and dining room. Comfortable couches faced the windows. On a raised platform stood a long dining table.
In a small office near the entrance, Patricia saw a woman sitting in front of a communication console.
"This is Madame Ariel." Derek introduced her. "She's one of Armand's secretaries."
"Hello, Mr. Holmes and Miss Wells. You're the first ones to arrive," she said smiling. "Count Armand and the rest of the party should be here shortly. I just spoke to them on the wireless. Please choose any bedroom you wish, Miss Wells," she said to Patricia. "They all have the same view."
Patricia walked up a glassed-in corridor to the bedroom wing, where doors were open to simple similarly furnished rooms. There was a pleasant informality about them, as there was about the whole lodge. It was obviously a place designed for enjoying the wilderness.
After choosing a room at random, she freshened up, hung up her clothes, and then returned to the living room. She was watching a pair of Maribou storks perched on a bush outside the plate glass window, when she heard a plane land, then another. Soon the room was filled with a dozen or so guests.
Her heart plummeted when she didn't see Armand. She was about to ask Madame Ariel when he would arrive, when he appeared in the entrance. His hair, as always, was somewhat tousled over his forehead, his eyes flashed violet-blue, even from a distance. Patricia prayed he wouldn't be angry any longer. She felt an inexplicable desire to be near him.
Armand raised an arm in greeting and took several long strides toward Patricia. If he was still
angry with her, she saw no sign of it on his face as he broke into a wide grin.
"What a treat to have you here, Patrice." He took her hand and held it. Patricia thought she detected a warm glow in his eyes as he gazed on her face. Among so many guests she could hardly expect a show of emotion, although she recalled with a thrill his kiss in the crowded Abidjan airport. But then, the people had been strangers—here they were friends and acquaintances. Good manners dictated more restrained behavior.
"I'm pleased to be here." Patricia flashed a smile, letting him know she had forgiven him for the rage he had indulged in the preceding day.
Realizing he hadn't taken his eyes off of her, she began to blush. "I had hoped Aunt Pat could come, but she said she was too busy just now." She tried to make conversation.
"What a shame," Armand said. He let go of Patricia's hand, but his eyes still roamed over her, as though memorizing her. An exquisite excitement came over Patricia. Her mouth suddenly felt dry and she wet her lips. The movement didn't go unnoticed, and she saw Armand do the same.
"Aunt Pat sends her love." She tried to sound casual, but her words caught in her throat, and she found it impossible to move her eyes away from his. This is what he must have meant, when he said their eyes hooked together! She was experiencing just that. From the looks of things, Armand was certainly not angry with her any longer.
But Patricia became unsure of herself as the afternoon progressed and Armand, the perfect host, mingled among the guests, stopping to talk with some of the other men who would take part in the trapping of wild zebra the next morning.
Patricia sat down at one of the low round tables that faced the wilderness. She stole a look at Armand's profile, watching him at the next table as he explained, in animated fashion, the route the Jeeps were to take to track the zebra. She longed to be near him.
When dinner was announced, Patricia was pleased to be seated next to Armand, even though Derek sat on her other side. But as much as she had hoped for Armand's undivided attention and the intense look she had gotten used to, she wasn't singled out by him when he spoke. Patricia made the best of it, listening attentively to the conversation that centered around the problems of saving the endangered African animal species. Finally, dinner ended and everyone rose from the table.