'Fishing-shack.' The old man gave a fierce laugh. 'You're welcome to it. Only one bed—should be enough if you two are friends.'
'Mr Kruger, you don't understand,' Teri began, her cheeks warm with embarrassment, only to be interrupted by Sloan, who said crisply, 'Thanks, we'll take it.'
When Sloan had finished packing the books in the car, Herman Kruger gave him a kerosene lamp and some blankets. Heart beating fast, Teri followed him to the shack.
'I don't understand,' she said, as she followed him inside.
Sloan stood the lamp on a small wooden table and turned up the flame. Whistling softly, he looked around him, and Teri looked with him. The shack was small, yet surprisingly clean. There was the faint odour of seaweed, and in one corner was a bundle of nets. There was also a bed. Teri looked at it, and felt hysteria bubble in her throat.
'Sloan! This place!'
'Not bad at all. Herman lets some of his cronies use it when they're fishing this way. These blankets he's given me are clean, we'll just throw them over the bed.'
'We can't sleep here,' she protested over the thundering sound in her ears.
'No place else that I can suggest.' Sloan turned and looked at her consideringly. 'You heard what Herman said, he only has one bedroom. And the bush isn't safe—always a chance of a stray leopard at night.'
'Why don't we drive back?'
'And risk those bends on an unlit road? We could end up in the sea. That would be crazy, Teri.'
Not as crazy as this. I can't share this narrow bed with you, loving you as I do. Knowing that when we awake it will be time to say goodbye.
'There must be somewhere we could stay,' she said at last, slowly. 'The inn where we ate…'
'Miles away. I wouldn't risk it.' He came to her and put his hands on her shoulders. 'Is the idea of sharing a bed with me really so repugnant?'
The idea was sheer bliss, that was the trouble. Beneath his hands her shoulders trembled. 'It's not what I want.'
'You wanted it the other day, at Bienvenue. Or was I mistaken?'
It was not something she could deny. 'No. No, you weren't. But today…' As she put her hands over her eyes she felt her hot cheeks. 'Things have changed. Sloan, don't press me, you don't understand.'
'Perhaps I do.' It was spoken very gently. 'Teri, my dearest, will you feel any better if I promise not to make love to you?'
My dearest. He had used the endearment before, but it meant nothing, it was just his way of addressing a woman. There was only one woman who meant anything to him, and that was Miranda. Any words of real love would be directed at her.
'You don't want to make love?' She stared at him horrified, the words having emerged almost of their own volition.
'I'd love you all night if you'd let me.' His voice had roughened. 'But you'd have to show me you wanted me. I won't force myself on you again, Teri.'
She drew a shaky breath. 'You said something about a promise.'
'You have it.' The roughness had vanished and his tone was smooth. 'Let's get undressed, then.'
'We could sleep in our clothes.'
'And a fine rumpled sight we'd be in the morning! You're not going coy on me, Teri?'
'Of course not.'
She tried to smile as she slipped out of her sundress and saw that his eyes were on her, their expression strange, almost as if he worshipped her body. I'm crazy, she thought. Wearing only bra and briefs, she watched as he took off his own clothes with movements that were suddenly abrupt.
They lay down together on the fisherman's bed. The blankets were rough but clean above and beneath them. The bed was narrow, meant only for one. Teri lay as far to one side as she could, her knees slightly bent, and Sloan lay beside her, shaping his body to fit with hers. One arm went around her. 'To stop us falling out,' he explained.
'I realise that,' said Teri, and felt the long fingers just beneath her breasts, and the warm breath fan the back of her neck.
Presently the sound of slow steady breathing filled the room. Teri lay very still, listening as Sloan slept. She herself would not sleep, she knew, but that was no cause for concern. In the years ahead there would be many lonely nights when she would sleep. For tonight she preferred to lie quietly, with Sloan's arm beneath her breasts and the long length of his body curled around hers.
He would have needed little encouragement to make love to her. As she lay in the dark, aching for him, she wondered if she had been foolish to deny herself the joy that would have accompanied the act. What had stopped her? Not a question of morals. Her love for Sloan transcended principles that had once been ironclad.
Perhaps there had been the fear that Sloan's lovemaking would spoil any future happiness with another man, that she would never be able to love again. But she would never love again anyway, she knew that with clear certainty. And the moments of fulfilment would have been hers to cherish.
The arm that was curled around her moved slightly, the fingers going to a breast, cupping it, bringing her body closer against his. Teri's breath jerked. 'Sloan,' she said, and then a little louder, 'Sloan!'
There was no response, the breathing was as slow and steady as ever. The movement must have been unconscious.
She lifted her hand to brush his away, then dropped it. She might as well enjoy this closeness to the fullest. This was how they would lie if they were married, night after night of this wonderful intimacy.
But marriage was not for her. There would never be more than this one night. All the others were for Miranda.
She had thought sleep would never come, but presently it did. When she wakened at length, she felt an odd roughness against her cheek and around her almost-bare body, and for a few moments she lay still, wondering if she was dreaming. Suddenly the events of the night came back to her, and her hand moved— only to encounter emptiness.
'Morning, lazybones,' a cheerful voice said.
'Morning, Sloan.'
'Do you always look so rosy-cheeked when you wake up?'
Teri touched her hands to cheeks whose heat was occasioned by something other than sleep. As she did so the blanket slipped away from her. She clutched at it, and an extra warmth flooded her face.
Sloan's laughter echoed through the tiny room. 'Coy again? My darling Teri, I've seen you in less. Besides, we've just spent a whole night lying together in bed.'
With nothing to show for it. The words came into her mind involuntarily. She thought, Perhaps I'm shameless, but I can't care any longer.
'Do you know,' Sloan went on thoughtfully, 'before I discovered your—innocent status'—wicked grin on the last words—'that coyness would have made me impatient.'
'How do you feel about it now?' She was a little breathless.
'Ah,' he drawled, his grin widening. 'Fancy some coffee before we leave, Teri?'
Why had he avoided the question? 'I'd love some.'
'Good. I'm going over to Herman's, he's offered us his hospitality. Why don't you get dressed and join me there?'
It did not take long to pull on her dress and to run a comb through her tangled hair. Teri shivered as she left the shack and walked the small distance to the cottage. In the room that served as both living-area and kitchen the aroma of strong coffee blended with the smell of freshly baked bread.
'Have a good night?' Herman asked, acknowledging Teri's presence with a lift of shaggy eyebrows.
'Fine, thanks.'
'Thought as much. Indeed. Knew that bed would be big enough for friends.' Looking from Teri to Sloan, the old man gave a grin that revealed that his own memories of the past had not faded.
Teri felt her cheeks go warm again. Involuntarily she glanced at Sloan, and saw his eyes gleam. 'Coffee,' she heard Herman offer, and was glad of the diversion.
Hands curving around the steaming mug, she watched the old man slice a loaf of dark bread. 'Try it,' he invited. 'Always bake my own bread. It's good with konfyt.'
When Teri had finished her coffee and the nutty-tasting bread with the sweet watermelon pres
erve, also home-made, Sloan caught her eye. 'Time to be on our way.'
'Give my best to Emma,' said Herman. 'Nice lady— very nice. And bring your own young lady next time you come this way, Sloan.'
'I certainly will,' said Sloan, but the words gave Teri no joy, for she knew that his future companion would be Miranda. She tried to picture that sophisticated beauty sleeping between the rough blankets of a fisherman's bed and sipping coffee from an earthenware mug, and failed.
Mention of Emma made her feel suddenly remorseful. 'Emma will be worried about us,' she said as they drove away from the cottage.
'I don't think so.' Sloan sounded unperturbed.
'She must be wondering if we've been in an accident.'
'She knows where we are.'
Teri stared at him. 'You phoned her?'
Sloan merely smiled, and Teri knew she had been foolish to imagine that just because Herman Kruger had chosen to live in isolation he had cut off all ties with civilisation. Evidently she had observed neither the telephone nor the moment when Sloan had slipped away to make the call.
'Relax,' he said in a voice that was unexpectedly gentle, and his hand reached across the seat to cover one of hers, briefly. 'Emma knows you're safe with me.'
As I'd always be safe with you. Not the safety of dependence, of wanting a man to smooth my way in the world, to make life easy for me. A different kind of safety altogether. An emotional safety that would come with knowing that I could share my joys and my sorrows with the man I love. Knowing that there is one person in whom I could put all my trust. Knowing that together we could face the world.
Foolish thinking. Dangerous too, for that way there was only heartbreak. With the final goodbye to Sloan just a few hours away, it was madness to indulge in daydreams.
Which brought her to the realisation that she still had not told Sloan of her plans. She should have told him yesterday after all. Now, with the memory of the shared night so poignant in her mind, the thought of the parting made her throat constrict with grief. She did not even know if she could talk. And yet she must do so, she could delay it no longer.
They had driven some way through the awakening peninsula when Teri drew breath and said, 'I have to tell you—I'm leaving Vins Doux.'
No response from the man at her side. Had her voice been so low that he had not heard her? Stealing a glance at the stern profile, she saw that his concentration was on the road ahead.
A little louder this time, she announced, 'I'm leaving Vins Doux.' After a moment she added, 'Tomorrow.'
Still no response. His mouth was tilted in the suggestion of a smile and he had begun to whistle softly.
Clenching her nails hard into her palms, Teri turned to the window. She felt ill. She had not expected that Sloan would agonise over her departure, but his indifference—an indifference that bordered on callousness—was brutal. Tears gathered in her eyes, and she blinked fiercely, determined that she would not cry. But more tears came, till the scenery outside the window was a blur.
Perhaps ten minutes later the car drew to a halt. 'Now we can talk,' she heard a voice say softly.
The time for talking had passed. Keeping her head stiffly averted, Teri resisted the impulse to wipe the tears from her eyes, and hoped that she would not disgrace herself.
'There you have the reason why you won't be leaving Vins Doux,' Sloan told her.
She had no idea what he was talking about, and her swollen throat did not permit questioning.
'Don't you see, Teri?'
Still keeping her face turned away from him, she gave her head a small shake. It was the best she could do.
'I've made you cry.' She had never heard his voice quite so tender. And then he had reached for her, and was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
'I'm not crying,' she gulped.
'Of course not. Teri my darling, what do you see?'
If only he would not call her darling. To him the endearment meant nothing, and it only made her feel more miserable.
'What do you see?' he persisted.
Nothing. Well, nothing of any consequence. Just a tall white building perched on the cliffs, with a few smaller houses clustered around it.
'A hotel,' he told her.
Later she would wonder why she had not reacted to the word. Perhaps it was a measure of her emotional turmoil that her only response was an almost inaudible 'Well?'
'Well.' Beneath the laughter in his tone there was a suggestion of uncertainty. Sloan, always so self-assured, was uncertain. 'Is that all you have to say?'
'I don't know what else to say,' Teri muttered.
'I can't believe that my sleepless night on a narrow bed was in vain.'
'You slept like a log,' she accused.
'I didn't sleep at all.'
'Your breathing. It was so slow…' She lifted her head to look at him, mindless all at once of her tear-filled eyes. 'You were acting?'
'Every minute of the longest night I ever spent. I'm a normal man, my darling. Do you think it was easy to lie beside you without making love to you?'
'Why didn't you?' The words were out before she could stop them. Beneath his gaze she felt her wet cheeks grow warm.
'Because,' he said, very slowly, 'I intend waiting till we're married. If you'll have me, Teri. You and Jill.'
Happiness was a wild thing inside her. 'I don't understand…' It was all she could say.
'Perhaps that's the answer I deserve after all I put you through. I only hope it's not too late. All right, Teri, let's talk.'
'Why didn't we talk yesterday?' she asked wonderingly. 'We had so much time.'
'Yesterday, my darling, was for wooing.'
'Wooing?' Was it possible to be quite so happy?
'Wooing. Weren't you curious why we took so long to get to Herman? And don't you understand the significance of this hotel?'
Slowly, she was beginning to understand. 'We needn't have stayed at Herman's, you knew all the time about the hotel.' And then, 'You planned this!'
'The action of a desperate man. I knew I had to act quickly—get in all my wooing in the space of one day. And one night.'
'A wonderful day. And night.' The small tear-stained face was radiant. 'You said there was nowhere we could stay, and I believed you. I don't remember seeing the hotel yesterday, Sloan.'
'We came along a different road.' Pain filled his eyes. 'There's so much to explain. Is it too late for us, Teri?'
'Go on explaining,' she teased him. It was easy to tease now, with joy exploding like fireworks inside her. She wanted nothing more than to be in his arms, but there were things she had to know.
'I love you,' he said.
'Oh, Sloan, I love you too!'
He was quiet a moment, a dazed look in his eyes, and she knew that he really had been unsure of her. 'I've loved you a long time.'
'But you never trusted me.'
'For a while I didn't.'
'I had the feeling,' Teri said thoughtfully, 'that perhaps you didn't trust women at all, Sloan.'
'So many of the women I'd met were only out to get what they could. Take Virginia—she behaves one way in front of Emma, another way when she's out of her sight. But I think you know that.'
'And you thought I'd conned Emma.'
'You had the face of an angel, beautiful and innocent. I couldn't believe that you'd do anything dishonourable. And yet there were the facts. The expensive clothes…'
'Emma wanted me to have them.'
'I know that now.'
'She told you?'
'Only when I'd made up my own mind about you.'
'Why did she wait so long?'
'She thought that way was best.'
'When did you make up your mind?' Teri asked slowly.
'I think I knew all along what you were, my stubborn reasoning notwithstanding. But what finally convinced me was the argument. When you stood up to Emma and told her she had no right to interfere in Jessie's life. Virginia and Bruce said what they thought Emma wanted to h
ear. Not you. You were so fearless, my darling, so determined to stick up for what you believed in no matter that you risked Emma's disapproval. That was when I knew the truth.'
'You still thought I was in league with Bruce.'
'The wretched Bruce. He can count himself lucky I didn't do him violence. The thought of you together was enough to drive me crazy!'
'You were right, you know,' Teri said a little sadly. 'Bruce only wanted me because of my share in Vins Doux.'
'He told you that?'
'Indirectly.'
Sloan was watching her intently. 'Do you still feel anything for him?'
'I never did. And I've told you I love you.' Odd how easily the words emerged from her lips. She had said them so often, quietly, in the darkness of her room, never dreaming that she would one day say them aloud to the man she adored.
'Just as well. Bruce loves Miranda. He's always loved her.'
'Then why did he…?' The words 'go after me' stilled on her tongue. The question was pointless. She knew the answer would be distasteful, it did not need to be put into words.
Sloan spoke at length into the silence. 'I said I'd loved you a long time. But there was Jill. Teri my darling, I never judged you, as you thought I did. But the idea that you had loved, perhaps still loved, another man was one I couldn't bear. And then I came to terms with my feelings. I knew that without you there was no life for me, and I decided that if you'd marry me I'd teach you to love me. Teri darling, I gave you some reasons for bringing you to Bienvenue.' He paused and gave a wry smile. 'What you don't know is that I was going to ask you to marry me.'
Memory came back, sharp and vivid. Sloan's tight white-faced look when he'd accused her of being a virgin.
'You were so angry.'
'Only because you'd lied to me. And I wondered what else you'd hidden from me.'
'It was a silly lie,' Teri said remorsefully.
'In the circumstances it was justified. Emma says I behaved very badly.'
So they had discussed her. What else had been said? Did it matter? Teri knew suddenly that it did not.
There was one question, however, which did need asking. 'What about Miranda?'
'A good friend, nothing more.'
Serpent in Paradise Page 16