His eyes were on her, steady, appraising, taking in every detail of her own appearance. Teri took a deep breath and gripped Jill's hand just a little more tightly before making her way, as smoothly as she could, down the steps.
Emma emerged from the house, and came smiling down to the car to join them. 'How smart you both look,' she enthused. 'Don't they look nice, Sloan?'
'Two females to do any man credit.' He was smiling too, but his tone was dry.
'Thank you,' said Teri graciously, and wondered if Sloan and Emma sensed that beneath her poised exterior beat a heart as agitated as if it belonged to a girl on her first date.
Sloan opened the car doors, seating Teri in the front and Jill at the back, his manner so polite as to defy faulting. Wildly Teri wondered if it was only her imagination that made her pick up an inherent mockery where none existed.
Slowly he negotiated the winding oak-lined drive of Vins Doux, and then they passed through the gates and the car took the tarred highway with purring speed.
Teri turned her face to the window, staring out with fierce concentration. She had been this way just yesterday, but she was so disturbingly aware of the man at the wheel that it seemed necessary to look anywhere but in his direction.
'Enjoying the scenery?' His voice came to her as if from a distance.
'It's very beautiful.'
It was beautiful, at least she remembered it as being so. Lush vineyards. Misty mountains, standing a brooding sentinel over silent valleys. The sea, as deep a blue as if a thousand bottles of ink had been emptied in the water. She would come this way again, and she would enjoy the beauty to the fullest. But she could not enjoy it today, not with Sloan just inches away from her, with the air so sparked with tension that it was becoming increasingly hard to breathe.
She needed more air. Her hand went to the door, fumbled with a lever, but nothing happened.
'Want the window open?'
'Yes,' she said coolly, wishing she had not attempted the exercise; her vain attempts might affect her careful illusion of poise. 'What do I do?'
'This.' The car did not slacken its speed as Sloan reached past Teri. She made herself sit very still as his hand slid by her breast, arm resting hard against it as a finger touched a knob. The merest flick and the window edged electronically downward, the whole operation over in less than two seconds. But the arm took longer to move. For what seemed like eternity it rested against her breast. When it withdrew, there was a burning sensation where it had been.
Teri took a jerky breath. Sloan was whistling gently, and involuntarily she turned from the window to look at him. By no outward sign did he show himself aware of her scrutiny. And that was just one more way in which he went out of his way to deliberately humiliate her.
'You did that purposely,' she accused, angry all at once.
'Of course.' Not even a pretence at embarrassment.
'And you thought I'd be too taken aback to react.'
'No mud available,' he countered mildly.
Horrible man, always so sarcastic. She was getting angrier every moment. 'I do have a hand,' she informed him.
'You'd hardly slap me and risk an accident—not with your daughter in the back seat.'
Daughter. Some time during the night she had decided to tell him the truth about Jill. To let him believe that Jill was anything but her sister seemed a childish charade—but in an instant she changed her mind. Sloan was so sure of himself, so totally sure of himself. There was some satisfaction in knowing that she had him fooled.
'I would do nothing to endanger Jill.' She paused, swept with pain at the memory of the parents who had died so needlessly. More quietly she added, 'But don't touch me again. I won't stand for it.'
There was little traffic on this stretch of road, and Sloan was able to move his eyes sidewards with safety.
'You're hardly untouched.' It was said dispassionately enough as his eyes, those eyes that were as blue as the Cape sea, lingered on her face.
'Touched but choosy,' Teri responded, deciding to treat the remark with the disdain it deserved.
'Prickly too. And unashamed.' He laughed. 'Look ahead, Teri, see that mill? It's one of the oldest hereabouts, a real landmark.'
An unexpected peace-offering. Why had this arrogant and disturbing man chosen to make it? Was Sloan calling an end to battle, or was this merely a truce? Only time would tell.
Nevertheless, it was with a lightening of the heart that Teri watched the approach into Cape Town. 'One of the loveliest cities in the world,' her mother had once told her, and though Teri's acquaintance with all the world was limited she did not think that the statement had been exaggerated. Set against Table Mountain, Cape Town was an awesome sight.
As they came into the city Teri sat forward in her seat, delighted with the sights all around her. Old houses with wrought-iron railed porches and complex gables. Narrow streets climbing torturously up the slope of the mountain. And then the foreshore, the Heerengracht, built on land that had been reclaimed from the sea, with buildings that were modern and beautiful. Teri did not know if Sloan was giving her a guided tour of the city—he did not say, and she would not ask—but she did know that she would come here again, alone, and that she would spend hours exploring.
'The Parade Ground,' said Sloan, as he turned into a big open ground in the centre of the city. On one side of it was an ancient castle, on another was the gracious building that constituted the city hall.
'This was the original military parade ground,' Sloan explained as he negotiated the car expertly into a space that looked too small for it. 'It's still used sometimes on formal occasions, but for the main part it's a car park. And on certain days'—he lifted his hand from the wheel in a gesture—'it's also used as a market.'
A superb market at that. Everywhere there were stalls. Some were piled high with fruit—peaches and plums and mangoes and lichees in glorious profusion. In others there were flowers; roses and dahlias, asters and zinnias, in all colours. The salespeople were mostly Malay women, handsome people dressed in lovely sari-like garments, calling to each other in a language that Teri did not understand.
Utterly enchanted, she took in the sounds, the scents. It was all more colourful, more exotic, than anything she had envisaged. She would have liked to spend more time here, to go from one stall to another, but Sloan was beside her, and Jill was tugging at her hand, and regretfully she fell into step with them.
He left her in Adderley Street, outside a big department store, and showed her the spot where they would meet. 'Two hours enough time?' he asked her, and she smiled her agreement, for the moment forgetting the cool sophistication which did not come naturally to her.
It was easy enough to find the department she wanted. Plastic utensils were there in every shape and colour, and Teri watched contentedly as Jill dithered for ten minutes before deciding on red.
Next stop was the crafts section, and once again Teri let her sister make a choice. It was not often that the little girl was let loose in a shop, and once Teri had decided which kind of wall-hanging to go for, it was a question of choosing the actual picture. Jill agonised between three angelic-faced kittens and a puppy with huge liquid eyes. She could not decide, she just could not decide. Eventually Teri gave in and bought both. Emma wouldn't mind, she knew. Besides, this was a case of two being better than one; instead of taking turns with the hooking, she and Emma could work on the hangings at the same time. More companionable by far.
An hour had passed. It would not be difficult to while away the other hour. There was so much to see in the store, so many lovely things to admire. Only time had kept Teri from indulging in window-shopping in the past, and time was one thing she had now. It did not matter that she did not have the money to buy the things she saw, looking, touching, admiring, was enough.
She stayed a while longer in the crafts section, which seemed to concentrate especially on weaving. There were woven hangings of every description, samples to whet the eyes of those whose hobby weaving was. When t
he rug-hooked hangings were finished Emma might like to try weaving. Browsing through the catalogues, Teri saw that the possibilities were endless.
Jill was growing restless when Teri realised it was time to move on. Next to the hardware section where they had arranged to meet Sloan was the toy department. As Jill's gaze fell upon a scene straight out of toyland, her eyes widened, and for a moment she stood quite rigid with astonishment. Then she let out a whoop of delight and grabbed a small rubber doll.
'Dolly! Jill have dolly?'
A mental picture of her near-empty wallet convinced Teri that her little sister could not have the doll. Her finances needed careful watching, even now, when they lived beneath a rent-free roof.
Regretfully she shook her head. 'Sorry, love.'
Jill looked mournful a moment, then brightened. There was so much to see, to touch, to explore. Clutching the rubber doll to her chest, she darted from one aisle to the next. Teri watched her, and wished that just for once she could indulge in a purchase of impulse. As dolls went this one was not expensive, and it would mean so much to Jill. For Christmas perhaps…
The little girl was having the time of her life. She had found a rocking horse, and with the doll still in her arms she climbed on to it and began to rock. That it was the most exciting thing she had ever done was evidenced by her shrieks of delight and fear. To and fro she rocked, faster and faster.
Louise should see her like this, Teri thought. Excited, stimulated by the novelty of a strange toy, she was a different child from the one who had been pale and ill and too quiet for so much of the time. Soon the pale cheeks would have colour in them, they could hardly help growing rosy in the invigorating air of Vins Doux. Teri would take photos of her then, and she'd send a few to Louise.
From the clock department nearby came a sudden chiming. Teri glanced down at her own watch. Could two hours have passed so quickly? Sloan would be waiting for them, and he had the air of a man who liked to be punctual.
'Time to be going, love,' she told Jill as she lifted her from the horse. 'Give me the doll.'
'No.' The rubber doll was clutched tighter.
'Jill, darling, please…'
'Want dolly!' It was a wail that grew higher and higher. 'Want dolly!'
'No, Jill.' Eyes were turning their way. Feeling like a child-abuser, Teri tried to take the doll away from Jill, but the little girl's grip was surprisingly tight. 'Want dolly!' she wailed again.
'When I have some money,' her sister conceded in despair. 'When I get paid. Oh, Jilly, please!'
'A determined little female,' an amused voice said from behind her, and Teri grew rigid.
Very slowly she turned. 'She's taken a fancy to the doll,' she said through stiff lips.
'So I gather. Are you going to buy it for her?'
'No.'
Sloan bent to look at the price-tag. 'It's not expensive.'
'More than I can afford, all the same.' Her throat was thick with distress. Why, oh, why hadn't he waited in the hardware department and spared her this humiliation?
Almost in self-defence, Teri said, 'I may buy it when I get paid at the end of the month.'
'If it's still available.' Sloan's tone was devoid of expression. 'How about something to eat before we start back?'
It was not a question, not really, for he seemed to take it for granted that she would say yes. She was thirsty, and yet as always there seemed the need to defy this man.
'I don't think so, but thanks anyway.'
'I imagine Jill wouldn't say no to an ice-cream.'
He was shrewd—which came as no surprise. The words might have been addressed to Teri, the tone, the eyes, were directed solely at her sister, and at the word 'ice-cream' the little girl's face shone with excitement. Teri knew that it was useless to argue— the issue had already been settled.
She decided to meet him halfway. 'A cup of tea would be nice, I suppose.'
'There's a pleasant place on the next block,' Sloan said. And then, 'Why don't you make your way over to that exit there? I'll catch up with you.'
The coffee-shop was more than pleasant. Teri looked around, enchanted despite the fact that she knew Sloan had used Jill as his means of bringing them in here. Decorated mainly in yellow—yellow checked cloths and sun-filter curtains of a slightly deeper shade, pictures of yellow flowers in yellow frames—the place was bright, the aura it projected friendly.
Teri was still marvelling at the effect colour could have on one's mood, when the words 'For you, Jill,' pulled her attention back to the table.
A package lay in front of the little girl. Even as Jill studied it mystified—it would take her a few moments before she decided to open it—Teri knew what was inside.
CHAPTER FOUR
Teri jerked around to look at Sloan, who was pulling out a chair for himself. As he sat down he met her gaze, and she saw that the corners of his lips were lifted slightly, and that the blue eyes held an expression which she did not understand.
Her chest felt tight. 'You bought the doll, didn't you?' She spoke quietly, so that Jill would not hear.
Sloan shrugged.
'You shouldn't have.' Teri's lips were stiff as Jill began to tear open the package.
'The child seemed to want it.'
And it cost little enough, his tone seemed to say.
Little enough in your frame of reference, Teri thought resentfully. A lot in mine.
It was hard to feel appreciative when her whole body quivered with strain. Had Andy bought the doll, she would have been grateful. But Sloan was not Andy—how often had she made the comparison, one that seemed strangely unfair to Andy each time.
Had Sloan made the gesture to annoy her? Yes, said the voice of intuition. And then again, perhaps not, she reasoned more charitably. They had got off to a bad start, she and Sloan. Perhaps he was trying to make amends. If that was unlikely, so many other unlikely things had occurred in the last weeks. Perhaps, after all, she should give him the benefit of the doubt.
She managed a smile. 'Jill does seem thrilled.'
Rubber toes now peeped through a tear in the paper, revealing to Jill the nature of the present. Impatiently she tore open the rest of the wrapping, then she threw the paper to the ground and hugged the doll to her chest.
'Dolly,' she said over and over, her little face alight with happiness.
'Thank you, Sloan,' Teri offered. 'Jill, you haven't thanked Mr Garfield.'
'Her happiness is thanks enough.' Sloan was smiling, but there was something strange in his tone. 'There's no guile in the child.'
Yet… The word was implied, but it was unspoken and Teri could hardly rise to the challenge.
You've been hurt by women, she thought. Disillusioned. She met his eyes, steady as steel, blue as the sky, disturbingly perceptive in the hard lean face. She did not try to outstare him, but turned to Jill instead and said, 'You'll have to give your doll a name, darling.'
'Miffi.' It came out unhesitatingly.
'A wonderful name!' Sloan laughed, and Teri was startled. She had heard him laugh before, but never in such genuine amusement. It was a vital sound, and extremely attractive. She was a little dazed as he went on, 'Your mommy will have tea, and I'll have a beer, and what will you have, Jill?' And as the child looked up in response to her name, 'Ice-cream?'
'Icy.' Jill's green eyes, in a smaller version of Teri's face, sparkled. 'Icy.'
'What kind?'
This time she looked at him uncomprehendingly.
'There's sherbet, peppermint, raspberry. Perhaps a float?'
All words which Jill did not know. Teri was about to say as much, when Sloan seemed to realise the fact for himself.
'How about that?' Shamelessly he gestured to a table not far away where two teenagers sat with ice-creams before them.
Ice-cream? Glorious concoctions—sundaes, whirls of white, drenched in chocolate sauce and sprinkled with nuts. As Jill gaped, Teri felt her own mouth begin to water. She loved ice-cream with a passion, but in the
last year there had been no spare penny for extravagances.
'Icy,' said Jill, pointing.
'Done.' Sloan turned to Teri. 'Have something to eat with your tea.'
'Just the tea, thank you,' she declined primly over the saliva in her mouth.
A waitress came to take the order. The pen was poised over her pad when desire gained ascendancy over dignity, and Teri said quickly, 'I've changed my mind. May I have a sundae too, please?'
They talked while they waited for the order to arrive, and discovered that they both liked swimming and cycling, music and reading; that Teri enjoyed history while Sloan preferred biography. He was not at all what she might have imagined a farmer to be. Wryly Teri acknowledged to herself that conventional stereotypes seldom approximated real life people.
There was something else she acknowledged. Sloan was an extraordinarily attractive man. She had noticed his good looks from the start, but there was more to him than a handsome face and a virile body. There was the low vital voice, the eyes that were alert and perceptive and that lit with warmth when he laughed. There was charm and humour and intelligence. And above all else, pervading all else, there was a maleness and a sexuality which seemed quite unstudied—and the more powerful for it. This man could be passionate, she knew that with sure instinct.
As before, Teri was all at once aware of a passion within herself. It was a quality which till quite recently she had never dreamed she possessed. It had lain dormant, unsuspected, waiting to be roused? By whom?
Not by Sloan! That she did know. It would be impossible for more than one reason. Restlessly she shifted in her seat, trying to quell a longing that stirred within her in the strangest way.
Sloan was not for her. It had been a kind gesture on his part to invite her to the restaurant, but it was just a gesture nevertheless. A little treat, actual dates being reserved for the Mirandas of his world. A little treat for Mrs Roland's companion and her daughter—as he saw them. She would have to tell him the truth about Jill, the game had gone far enough.
Again she moved in her seat. Sloan was talking about the book he was reading, a history of Linnaeus, the famous eighteenth-century botanist who had left his mark on the flora of the Cape. Ordinarily the librarian in Teri would have been absorbed, for she loved conversation about books. She heard what he said, made the correct responses, but her mind was not on the long-dead Linnaeus. Rather it was on the flesh-and-blood man who sat so close to her that if she reached out her hand she would touch his.
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