Deftly she sprinkled flour on the board, rolled the loaves, patted them into greased tins, and set them to rise.
Still ignoring Dirk, she dipped a white enamel beaker into a pail of water and poured the water into a tin basin. She carefully washed and dried hands and arms, taking all the time in the world to do so, in the hope that he would tire and leave her. Then she slowly drew down her sleeves. She still had her back to him, and the only indication of his presence was the puffs from his briar pipe as he stood immobile and silent.
What was he thinking?
Suddenly she could bear the tension no longer. She whipped round to confront him, her pupils pin-points of hate. He bent down casually and with leisured beat knocked the pipe against the sole of his shoe. She stood taut and hostile, willing him to go.
At last he broke the tense silence. 'Well,' he drawled, with a twist of irony at the corner of his mouth, 'aren't you going to invite me in?'
Gillian tossed her head. 'That's a privilege I reserve strictly for my friends. Right?' Her eyes were cold.
Dirk's lean brown hand slipped the pipe into the back pocket of his slacks. Then he stepped into the kitchen and his tall body advanced upon her. A sudden fear took hold of her - fear of the smouldering fire in his dark eyes.
She slipped from the sink to the table. With a panther-like movement he stepped up to her. She tensed her back, remembering in dismay that Madelisa was clearing rubble from the front room and could not hear her if she called out. Graham was away buying cattle. She felt trapped like a little frightened buck at bay.
Dirk placed a hand firmly on either side of her on the table, imprisoning her. His body did not touch hers, yet she was intensely aware of its proximity. His lips were perilously near hers. Fear of him changed to fear of herself; her limbs felt weak as water. .Despite her hate, she knew that if he but touched her her body would turn into fire, and she dropped her eyelids to hide this knowledge from him. Utter confusion possessed her mind. The desire to strike him warred with a desire for his arms. Then she no longer wanted to strike him. She felt a trembling deep inside her.
He straightened up suddenly, freeing her. 'There's flour on the tip of your pert little nose, Miss McBride,' he said lightly, and flicked at the white speck with a slender finger.
With a blaze of white-hot anger, she fired the words at him: 'Is it any business of yours?'
'No . . . o,' he inflected his voice, pursing his lips, amusement dancing in his eyes, 'but your safety is.'
'Then kindly remove your dangerous presence from my kitchen!'
'Dangerous?' he said slowly, arching an eyebrow. 'Why dangerous? Did you think I was going to kiss you? Silly little girl,' he mocked. 'I told you before that precocious kids are not my favourite brand of humanity.'
With unleashed fury she flung herself at him, her fists beating like drumsticks against his hard chest. 'Devil!' she hissed through clenched teeth. 'You devil!'
He caught her wrists in a grip of steel. She twisted and squirmed and kicked like a wild, fluttering bird beating its wings vainly in the imprisoning snare. 'Calm down, little hell-cat.' His voice was slightly savage. His magnetic eyes bored into her. She stood before him, her anger suddenly spent. She was breathing hard. Her golden-green eyes stared into his.
Slowly he released her wrists. 'Now come with me.' His voice was harsh and commanding. For a moment she wavered before his imperious look; then she meekly followed him outside.
He led her to a jeep parked in the yard. On the seat sat a magnificent hound of mixed breed, with reddish- brown back and white belly and flanks - the markings of a springbok. A comical ridge of thick brown hair ran all the way along its back. No one had ever set eyes on such a breed. The large liquid eyes were gentle and darkly outlined as if the make-up man had applied his art to them. It sprang lithely from the jeep and came to her, wagging its hindquarters in the absence of a tail. She put a caressing hand on its head and the wagging increased in momentum. The child in Gillian surged upwards. The anguish and turmoil of the half-grown woman vanished as if by magic. She forgot the man at her side and sank to her knees, hugging and patting the delighted beast, venting all the pent-up love in her young soul upon it. 'You lovely thing!' she crooned in its ear. 'You bootiful, bootiful old scallywag!'
The huge hound responded eagerly to her petting and in its excitement pushed her over backwards into the dust, yelping and pawing and licking her. She tried to protect her face with her arms while peal upon peal of her abandoned laughter and loud, frenzied barking filled the summer air.
'Down, Ntombi, down!' commanded Dirk harshly. Instantly the bitch obeyed. 'Back to the jeep!'
With easy grace she bounded on to the seat of the jeep, where she sat, still as a statue, and with an air of great dignity, head turned away.
Dirk gave Gillian a hand up and she was bemused at the soft expression in his deep eyes. Keen awareness of him returned and, with it, the reminder that she must hate this man who delighted in tormenting her. She quickly withdrew her delicate hand from his strong clasp and wiped it on the side of her slacks, as though the contact was contaminating. His lips twitched with amusement as he spread out his palms. 'My hands are clean, Miss McBride.'
Their eyes met and held, and die knew that he meant to convey to her that his hands had healed. She dropped her gaze to his palms. The surgeon who had grafted the skin had done an excellent job, and inexplicably her heart sang with relief and joy. She realized that, subconsciously, she had dreaded viewing the mutilation caused when Dirk had saved her.
Impulsively she ran a gentle finger along the fading scars and looked at Dirk with shining eyes. 'I'm glad!' she said softly. 'I'm so very, very glad.'
Dirk filled and lit his pipe and puffed in silence while Gillian dusted herself.
'These white slacks are unlucky,' she said with an impish grin. 'It's the second time I've taken a tumble in them.'
He puffed out a cloud of smoke and turned a serious face to her. 'I've come to tell you that there's been a ritual murder.'
Gillian stared at him aghast. 'Oh no!' she cried. 'How dreadful! Where did it happen?'
'In a kraal not half a mile from here.'
'When?'
'Last night.'
Her eyes were filled with horror. 'Was it... was it a child?' He heard the anxious tremor in her voice.
'A Swazi woman. You know about ritual murders?'
'Yes, my father told me.'
'Then you know that it's the cruellest of deaths. The organs and parts of the body are removed while the victim is still alive.'
'I know - for the witch-doctor's umuti.' Her eyes were like saucers as she asked: 'Have they caught the murderer?'
'No. It could be anyone - one of your labourers, for instance.'
She stifled a gasp.
'I told you in the kitchen that your safety was my business. It's Graham's urgent request that I guard you during his frequent cattle-buying absences.'
She felt an incongruous tweak of disappointment that it was only on account of his friend that he would protect her.
He looked at her searchingly. 'I made a shrewd guess that this occurrence wouldn't send you shooting back to the security of so-called "civilization".' His tone was ironic.
'You're right.' Her gold-flecked eyes gave him a direct look and the little chin stuck out determinedly.
'I also surmise that my offer for you and Madelisa to move in with me when Graham is away..
'Nothing is further from my mind.'
'Why?' he shot at her.
'For one thing,' she said tartly, 'I'd be in the way next time Miss de la Harpe spends the night with you.'
'Next time? You think there's been such an occasion?' His dark eyes quizzed her face.
'I know it!' she exclaimed. 'She didn't leave on that particular Sunday she spent with you. I saw her car sweeping past towards Mbabane early next morning.'
'Aren't you jumping to conclusions?'
'Seeing is believing.'
Dirk gave
her a long, inscrutable look. Then, changing the subject, he said: 'I'm giving you Ntombi.' Ntombi turned her head towards them at the mention of her name. 'I had a suspicion that you two would take to each other.'
'You were right.'
'It was love at first sight.'
'What makes you think I'd accept a gift from you, Mr. von Breda?'
'Force of circumstances and the fact that you're sensible.'
'Thanks!' sarcastically.
'You'll be safe with Ntombi. Her reputation is notorious. She saved my life when a man once tried to attack me.'
'She?' She knit her feathery brows.
'For Pete's sake!' he burst out impatiently. 'Are you so innocent that you don't know male from female?'
'I was wondering about the name,' Gillian remarked, hoping she was not going to blush. 'Ntombi is the Zulu for a young girl, isn't it?'
'Correct. I picked her up in Zululand as a stray pup. She's magnificent. You'll take her?'
'I'll borrow her, thanks.'
'Have you a gun?'
'No.'
He took a holster from the jeep's cubbyhole. 'I have a spare revolver. Borrow this. First I'll teach you to shoot.'
Gillian grinned inwardly as he produced and set up a target against the trunk of a thorn tree behind the barn. The one thing her father had taught her was to shoot straight. Here was her chance to teach this big bully a lesson! She pretended ignorance while Dirk Showed her how to load, release the safety clasp and aim. He gave a casual demonstration shot and hit the side of the target.
At the sound of the shot the Swazis downed tools and gathered around to watch what they sensed to be a competition.
Gillian delivered in quick succession three dead-centre hits. He heard her soft mocking laugh and saw the grin on the black faces. 'Little fiend!' he hissed. 'You dare to ridicule me?' In full view of her employees and to their great delight he bent her over his knee and gave her a resounding smack with a firm hand, as though she were a recalcitrant child. 'If it weren't for my promise to Graham, I'd gladly leave you to be murdered!' With long, angry strides, he reached the jeep, ordered the bitch out, vaulted easily into the seat and drove off, covering Gillian with a whirl of dust.
Ears flat, Ntombi raced after the vehicle. Her master looked round once only, and shouted: 'Stay!' Instantly she braked and sat down on her haunches in the dust of the road, staring unhappily at the disappearing jeep.
Gillian looked up into amused black faces. She caught the pockmarked man's eyes fixed on the weapon in her hand. 'Get back to your work!' she ordered peremptorily.
She whistled to the dog, who returned instantly, scattering the workmen to right and left.
Head held high, she stalked, seething, into the kitchen, followed by a very dejected, cross-bred bitch.
CHAPTER FOUR
That night, because of Graham's absence from the ranch, Madelisa brought her blankets from the servants' quarters and slept on the kitchen floor. Gillian kept Ntombi in the room with her. The loaded firearm lay to hand on the bedside table.
Graham, away in the wilds, received the news of the ritual murder by bush-telegraph. He curtailed his buying expedition and returned immediately to Impala Ranch, knowing that Gillian would be nervous, as the crime had been perpetrated not far from her house.
Next morning Gillian was playing with Ntombi in the yard, when his jeep drew up. She ran to him, her face showing obvious relief. 'I'm so very, very glad you've come!' she cried excitedly, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. 'There's been a murder and ...'
'That's why I'm here, my dear.'
'But how did you know about it so quickly?'
'You know, my dear, no news travels faster than in Africa. The word of mouth and the drum are still one of the quickest forms of communication and the farmer I was visiting at the time informed me, so I hurried back.'
'I'm so relieved to see you here!' Throwing her arms impulsively round his waist, she pressed her cheek like a happy child against his breast. 'I've been so horribly frightened, though you're the only one to whom I shall admit it.'
He lit a cigarette and she wondered why his hands trembled. 'The whole situation is impossible!' he burst out. 'It's not safe for a woman to live here alone.'
'There's nothing else I can do.'
'Either you move in with me, or I come and live in the big house,' he said with determination.
'Mrs. Grundy would have a fit!'
'We must find some solution. I'm responsible for you. I've done nothing but worry about you since the day you arrived.'
'I'm sorry.'
'After all, I'm old enough to be your father - almost; I'm your ranch manager; no one should take it amiss if we live under the same roof.'
'I could never agree to it,' Gillian said firmly.
'You're a prude.'
'I am not! A girl values her reputation, that's all.'
'I suppose you're right.'
'I know I am. Besides, such an arrangement would solve nothing, your job is to buy up young oxen to fatten for sale. You'd always be leaving me alone in any case.'
'Too true. Anyway, thank heaven the house is just about completed and we can get rid of these labourers at least.'
'Come on in! Let me make you a cup of coffee. You sound tired and irritable.'
Ntombi, sitting on her haunches, anxiously watching the expression on each face, jumped up and began running circles around them as they walked to the kitchen.
'I see you've made friends with Ntombi,' Graham remarked through slightly stiff lips.
'Dirk loaned her to me.'
'Dirk? So it's Christian names now! Things have moved fast in my absence.'
There was no mistaking the note of jealousy in his voice.
'Oh, I don't call him that to his face,' she said lightly. 'And I dislike him more than ever. But Ntombi is a delightful dog and I adore her. I'm honestly glad to have her.'
'I must lend you my revolver.'
'Mr. von Breda has given me his.'
'I see.'
They were sitting on either side of the kitchen table over a delicious mug of coffee, discussing the oxen Graham had already purchased, when the tall figure of Dirk appeared in the doorway. He stood smiling at them ironically, while Ntombi jumped up against him in delirious joy. He quietened her with a masterful hand. 'Quite a homely little scene,' he mocked. 'The grand protector rushes back to rescue the distressed damsel.'
'Hullo, you old so-and-so,' Graham laughed. 'Come on in! Pull up a chair and join us. If you behave yourself, I'm sure Gillian will spare you a mug of coffee.'
Gillian, with slightly diffused cheeks, fetched a mug, poured the beverage, and placed it before Dirk.
'Eve has just rung up,' Dirk announced, his lean brown fingers stirring the well-sugared coffee. 'It's her birthday tomorrow, and she has invited us to dine and dance with her at the Swazi Spa at Mbabane.' Gillian's face shone with excitement. 'I saw your jeep rattle past, Graham, so I knew you were back. How about it?'
'Marvellous! Coming, Gillian?' inquired Graham.
'Sounds an exciting outing to me. I'd love to come.'
'Good then, I suggest we leave early and make a day of it,' said Dirk. 'We all have shopping to do - and business to settle in the capital.'
'Suits me,' Graham agreed. 'I say, Gillian, we'll pay off the builders tonight. If we don't, they'll simply play truant tomorrow to attend the Incwala.'
'Right, Graham,' Gillian agreed. 'There's only a little tidying up to be done, and if they hurry they can finish by sundown.'
'So tomorrow it's high jinks,' chortled Graham. 'We could all do with a little distraction.'
Gillian threw him a pleading glance. 'My rose bathroom tiles - may we collect them tomorrow?'
'Most certainly,' Graham promised, smiling at her childish eagerness.
'I shall have my hair set and my nails manicured,' she promised herself enthusiastically.
'Eve undertook to make a booking for you at the salon for ten a.m.,' Dirk informed he
r.
'How considerate of her!' Gillian exclaimed warmly.
'I instructed her,' Dirk remarked dryly. Graham threw him a challenging look. Gillian dropped her eyes to the table. 'We'll pack our glad rags,' Dirk went on calmly. 'You and I, Graham, will dress at the Central Hotel. Eve suggests that Gillian change at her flat.'
'Oh no!' Gillian remonstrated. 'I'd like to go to the hotel too.'
'Best stick to Eve's arrangement,' Dirk said with finality. He suggested that they all travel together in his Aston-Martin.
Graham was adamant. 'You may be sure Gillian will go on a shopping spree, and there'll be umpteen parcels, dress boxes and cartons of groceries and fruit. The bathroom tiles alone will fill the boot - plus three suitcases? No, definitely, we take both cars.'
'As you please,' Dirk said shortly.
They arranged that each would go his own way at Mbabane and they would meet at Eve's boutique at closing time to take Eve and Gillian for cocktails at the hotel.
When the men left her, Gillian informed Madelisa of the plans. The fat old face was wreathed in smiles. She clapped her hands delightedly and cried: 'Hau! Hau! Hau!' Gillian grabbed her wrists and, dancing a jig, whirled her round and round till the old woman begged for mercy. 'Thank goodness our whitewashing is done,' Gillian gloried, 'so we don't have to work today. I'm going to be a real lady and a loaf and laze and make myself beautiful.'
'And Madelisa will help you, Nkosazana, like I helped your mama.'
Gillian's eyes shone expectantly and she cried excitedly: 'Tell me, Madelisa, did you give my mother beauty treatments? Do you know secrets? Will you make me beautiful too ?'
'That I will, my little one. U-nyoko taught me. She was a woman! Oh, she was a woman! Lovely. You are just as beautiful as she was. And the beautiful clothes she wore! You never saw anyone like her.'
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