Bitter Enchantment

by Yvonne Whittal

  She opened her mouth to say something, but they had already turned into Greystone Manor's drive, and what she had to say would perhaps be better left unsaid in front of Jason's chauffeur, no matter how discreetly he had treated their presence in the back of the Mercedes.

  'Get to bed early tonight,' Jason said as he left her on the patio, and Melanie did not wait to see the car go down the drive before entering the house.

  After dinner that evening an uncommon tiredness made her refuse the sleeping tablet Sister Wilson offered her, but she regretted her hasty refusal when, after sleeping for no longer than an hour, she found herself tossing in her bed from eleven o'clock onwards. Not wanting to wake Sister Wilson, she went quietly down to the kitchen and warmed herself a glass of milk, but it lacked the desired effect, and she finally gave up the struggle to spend the night pacing her bedroom floor.

  Within a few hours it would be daylight, and the moment she had silently dreaded all week would be upon her. She could no longer thrust aside her fears, nor did she dare dwell on them. The thought of marrying Jason Kerr, of being possessed by this ruthless, arrogant man, was enough to send her running panic-stricken to her grandmother's room to confess the truth, and this she dared not do. Jason had made it possible for them to keep their home for a time, and she would have to fulfil her side of the bargain, no matter how much she hated it.

  In the grey light of dawn, she crawled into bed and sheer exhaustion made her fall asleep to be awakened two hours later by Sister Wilson, looking bright and cheerful as she carried in a breakfast tray.

  'It's the bride's privilege to have breakfast in bed on her wedding day,' she announced, placing the tray on Melanie's lap. 'It's going to be the happiest day of your life.'

  'It's going to be the most dreaded day of my life,' Melanie corrected silently as she smiled her thanks and waited for the door to close behind Sister Wilson's uniformed figure before she made an effort to eat something, but the food choked her, and tears threatened as she pushed aside the tray and went through to the bathroom to run her bath water.

  An hour later, and dressed in Madame Loriette's creation, she stood staring at herself in the full-length mirror. 'This must be a nightmare,' she thought frantically. 'I can't marry Jason. I don't love him. I don't even like him—I despise him!'

  That was not quite true either. She was undeniably fascinated by him, and she would have had to be blind not to notice that he was extremely attractive despite the harshness of his hawk-like features. She recalled the pressure of his lips against her own, and trembled. Would it be so bad to have him make love to her? she wondered a little breathlessly.

  A knock at her door brought her to her senses, and Flora stepped into the room, her dark eyes gleaming with admiration as she stared for a moment at Melanie, then she remembered the reason for her call.

  'Telephone for you, Miss Melanie,' she said, plugging in the instrument beside the bed and hurrying out before Melanie could thank her.

  With the absurd wish that it would be Jason, she lifted the receiver, but the voice that came over the line was decidedly feminine, and well-modulated. She introduced herself as Delia Cummings, and Melanie frowned as she tried to recall where she had heard that name before.

  'I realise that this is your wedding day,' the woman said, 'but I felt you ought to know exactly where you stand as far as Jason is concerned.'

  'Miss Cummings, I—'

  'He's mine!' that beautiful voice announced huskily without giving Melanie an opportunity to speak. 'He's had his little affairs in the past, but he has always returned to me in the end.'

  Melanie felt very much like saying, 'You're welcome to him this minute,' but she controlled her wayward tongue and instead said calmly:

  'Marriage is a little more binding than a casual affair, don't you think?'

  Delia Cummings laughed unpleasantly. 'Jason has never had any respect for the marriage vows. He's a law unto himself, and when he tires of you he'll be back where he belongs—with me!'

  'I wouldn't be too sure of that if I were you,' Melanie could not help saying.

  'I am sure, darling,' Delia Cummings replied with astounding confidence. 'A leopard never changes its spots, if you'll forgive the old cliché, so you might as well heed my warning. 'Bye, darling, and do enjoy your wedding. The memory will be all you'll have left in time.'

  The line went dead, and Melanie replaced the receiver slowly, aware that, for some inexplicable reason, Delia Cummings had succeeded in hurting her.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Standing beside Jason in the small stone church not far from Greystone Manor, Melanie felt curiously detached from the proceedings. Tall, wide-shouldered, and immaculate in a dark suit and striped tie, Jason was a formidable stranger, his face an impenetrable mask as he placed the circle of gold on her finger to symbolise the fact that she had now become his wife.

  His wife!

  'Dear God, this can't be real!' she thought in a moment of panic, but it was as real as the confetti which was showered on them some minutes later as they stepped out into the sunshine. A little more than half a dozen people, of whom Melanie knew only Granny Bridget and Sister Wilson, crowded around them to wish them well, but an ingenious newspaper photographer had somehow discovered their plans, and his camera flashed several times before he sprinted towards his car and drove off. The incident had occurred so quickly and unexpectedly that it was over before Melanie realised what had taken place and, taking her cue from Jason, she behaved as though nothing had happened.

  They were driven back to Greystone Manor where they drank champagne on the terrace, and somehow Melanie drifted through it all in a state of unnatural calmness which was disturbed, only briefly, when the time came to say goodbye to her grandmother. Jason, however, took firm command of the situation, and Melanie found herself whisked off to the silver-grey Jaguar parked in the driveway before there was time for an emotional scene to erupt.

  'Now we can relax,' Jason remarked casually when they finally turned on to the N3 to Heidelberg, and Melanie almost laughed out loud.

  She could not recall when last she had been able to relax and, judging by the tension which seemed to grip every muscle in her body, it would be a long time before she would be able to do as Jason suggested. They were heading for his chalet in the picturesque and mountainous Drakensberg, but to Melanie it felt as though she were being taken to a prison.

  'How long will it take us to get to your chalet?' she asked as the silence threatened to become uncomfortable between them.

  'Four to five hours if we don't stop too often along the way. I would like to get there before dark,' he added frowningly without taking his eyes off the ribbon of road ahead. 'The mountain road can be treacherous after sunset.'

  Melanie did not question this and lapsed into silence, her thoughts whirling in uncomfortable circles as she tried to visualise spending a week in the mountains with Jason. They would be alone together, and nothing appealed to her less than to have to spend several days alone in the company of a man who, for some obscure reason, always succeeded in making her feel nervous and edgy.

  She glanced his way unobtrusively and tried to tell herself that she had nothing to fear but, as her insides twisted themselves into a tighter knot, she knew that she had failed miserably. His hands were resting on the steering wheel in a relaxed manner, but they were nevertheless in complete control of the powerful Jaguar as it sped southwards across the country.

  Her fascinated glance lingered on his hands, and she noticed for the first time the well-kept fingernails. His hands were strong and capable-looking, and they were hands that could crush as well as caress with equally devastating effects.

  Startled by the trend of her thoughts, Melanie looked away hastily and stared blindly ahead of her. Why should the mere idea of being caressed by Jason disturb her so? she wondered as she tried to control the rapid beating of her heart. She hardly knew him, and she despised him for forcing her into this loveless marriage. Why then should the though
t of his hands caressing her send the blood flowing more swiftly through her veins?

  'This is ridiculous,' she rebuked herself silently. 'I'm tired and overwrought, and allowing my imagination to get the better of me.'

  She concentrated fiercely on the scenery, and noticed the early signs of the approaching winter. The trees were beginning to shed their leaves, and Melanie watched ruefully as a miniature whirlwind disturbed the carpet of gold beside the road. It swept the leaves high into the air, scattering them in all directions, and carrying some of them several kilometres away before depositing them in the bushy veld where the cattle grazed in a leisurely, undisturbed fashion.

  They stopped for lunch at Heidelberg, a beautiful town nestling among the hills, and Melanie was tempted to ask Jason if they could remain there a while longer but, knowing his desire to reach the Drakensberg before dark, she relinquished the idea and waited quietly for him to remove his jacket and tie before getting into the car once more.

  'Why don't you lie back and try to sleep?' Jason suggested as they left the town behind them. 'There's a long stretch of uninteresting road ahead before we reach our destination.'

  'I'm not sleepy.'

  'Please yourself,' he shrugged, and a stony silence settled between them which Melanie did not dare interrupt.

  Despite her intention to stay awake, the monotony of the road and the soothing hum of the car's engine began to have a relaxing effect on her. She was tired, desperately tired, and leaning back against the headrest, she felt her eyelids drooping as if they were filled with lead. For a time she drifted on a plane of awareness, fighting against the desire to sleep, but she finally gave up the subconscious struggle and slipped into a dreamless sleep from which she did not awaken for some considerable time.

  'Where are we?' she asked eventually, rousing herself and blinking at the swiftly setting sun as Jason turned off the tarred highway on to a gravel road.

  'We left Harrismith behind us some time ago,' he replied as the car gathered speed. 'We should reach our destination in less than an hour.'

  'Good heavens! I must have slept for hours,' she exclaimed, brushing her hair out of her eyes and straightening her skirt which, to her embarrassment, had managed to shift higher to expose her shapely knees.

  Her action did not go unnoticed, and as Jason glanced at her briefly she caught a hint of amusement in his eyes before he concentrated on the road once more, but that look had been enough to send the colour surging into her cheeks.

  'You can't see much of the mountains in this light,' he said easily, 'but you'll see them at their best in the morning.'

  In the morning! Oh, if only it were morning already and this dreaded night were over, she thought, anxiety chilling her to the marrow at the prospect of what was yet to come.

  The minutes sped by relentlessly, and the road inevitably began to twist and turn precariously along the edge of the mountain. Melanie held her breath, but Jason seemed to be well acquainted with the route they were taking, and he looked quite relaxed as he negotiated the hairpin bends in the road.

  Surely they could not go much higher, she thought as Jason manoeuvred the car round yet another sharp bend, and then everything seemed to happen at once. A rockfall had created an impassable barrier across the road, and in the fast gathering dusk they were almost on top of it before the headlights illuminated the obstruction.

  'Jason, look out!.' she cried unnecessarily, for Jason had already swerved the car violently to the right and away from the sheer drop on the left, at the same time slamming his foot on to the brake, bringing the car to a slithering stop, and only just preventing it from careering into the ditch.

  'Damn!' he muttered angrily, applying the handbrake and switching off the engine. 'Are you all right?'

  'Yes—yes, I'm fine,' she gasped, staring up into his anxious face and shaken by the knowledge that only her seatbelt had saved her from crashing through the windscreen.

  His hand touched her cold cheek briefly before he undid his own seatbelt and climbed out. The cold air swept into the car and Melanie shivered as she followed his example without hesitation, almost as if she were afraid to remain in the car without him.

  'Does this sort of thing happen often?' she asked as she stood beside him surveying the mountain of rocks strewn across the road.

  'Not to my knowledge it doesn't.'

  Melanie wrapped her arms about herself as the cold penetrated her blue linen suit. 'What are we going to do?'

  'There are two possibilities.' He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'I could remove just enough of these rocks in order to get the car through, or—'

  'That would be too risky,' she interrupted, amazed that he could even consider something so dangerous. 'The soil doesn't seem to be very firm close to the edge of the road, and it would never take the weight of the car.'

  Thinking that she was concerned for her own safety, he said harshly, 'I wasn't suggesting that you should be in the car with me when I attempt it.'

  'It makes no difference whether I'm with you or not,' she argued hotly. 'I still think it's too much of a risk.'

  He stared at her for a moment, his grey eyes glittering strangely in the semi-darkness. 'You obviously haven't considered the possibility that you'll be free if I should plunge to my death over the edge.'

  'I wouldn't want my freedom at the expense of your death, thank you,' she said coldly, not certain whether she was shaking as a result of the chill in the air, or the frightening thought that someone as vitally alive as Jason should be crushed to death in the wreckage of his car. 'What's the other alternative?' she asked, managing to control the tremor in her voice.

  Jason drew her away from the edge of the road towards the car. 'It will take the best part of two hours to remove this lot, but it's something that will have to wait for morning. There's usually a drastic drop in temperature after sunset here in the Drakensberg, so the only other alternative is to leave the car here and walk the rest of the way.'

  'Is it far?'

  'Not if we take a short cut along the path over this hill,' Jason said abruptly as he pulled on his jacket and took the keys to unlock the boot. 'We'll take a few of the small things with us, and I'll come back later for the suitcases.'

  Melanie had fortunately had the good sense to throw in her coat at the last minute, for her teeth were chattering as Jason helped her into it. Ten minutes later, carrying nothing more than her handbag and vanity case, she was still stumbling after him with the beam of the torch he carried guiding her steps, but dry twigs had ripped her stockings, and she was certain that her high-heeled shoes were ruined beyond repair.

  'Jason, could… could we stop for a moment?' she gasped, almost succeeding in twisting her ankle on the uneven ground.

  'Tired?' he asked abruptly, indicating with the torch that she should sit down on the large boulder beside the path.

  'A little out of breath,' she admitted, taking the weight off her feet and wriggling her left foot slightly to test her ankle.

  Jason dropped his haversack on to the ground, and sat down beside her to light a cigarette. He had switched off the torch to save the batteries, and in the darkness she was suddenly intensely aware of his nearness, of the muscular thigh pressed against her own, and the arm he had placed almost protectively about her.

  'I'm sorry about this.'

  'It's not your fault,' she protested hastily, a little flustered by his unexpected apology, and the cloak of intimacy provided by the velvety darkness of the star-studded night. 'If I'd known, though, that we'd end our journey with a cross-country hike, I would have dressed myself more appropriately, then I might have enjoyed it more.'

  'Do you enjoy trudging through the countryside?'

  'I thought you said you knew so much about me,' she laughed nervously, and when he did not reply, she said: 'I do enjoy walking in the country, but I don't often have the opportunity to indulge in that sort of pastime.'

  'You'll be able to do a lot of walking while we're here,' he said without t
he usual hint of mockery in his , voice, and Melanie wished suddenly that she could see his face.

  'Do we have much further to go?' she asked at length when she could no longer bear his disturbing nearness and the strange effect it had on her pulse rate.

  'Another five minutes and we should be there.'

  'Then let's go on,' she suggested, escaping the circle of his arm and fumbling in the darkness for her handbag and vanity case.

  Jason crushed the stub of his cigarette beneath his heel and switched on the torch. They walked the rest of the way in silence, and as the ground levelled out she caught a glimpse of the chalet silhouetted against the night sky.

  It was difficult to see much of it in the darkness, but the beam of the torch played briefly across face-bricks and solid wood as Jason inserted the key in the lock and pushed open the door. Melanie followed him inside a little gingerly, but instead of encountering the mustiness of a place not often used, she found the air fresh as though the room had been aired recently.

  'Confound it! The generator hasn't been switched on,' Jason stated irritably as he flicked a few switches in what appeared to be the lounge. 'Are you afraid of the dark?'

  Her heart pounded uncomfortably. 'N-not really… why?'

  He gestured with the torch. 'I'll have to take this with me in order to see what I'm doing. Here,' he thrust a packet of matches into her cold hand. 'Light the fire while I'm out and get yourself warm.'

  He strode from the room and out the front door, his footsteps crunching on the gravel outside, but a few seconds later she could hear nothing except a deafening silence which was broken only by the chirping of a cricket in the undergrowth outside. The inky blackness was somehow frightening, and her hands shook as she struck a match and lit the fire in the hearth. The newspapers and dry twigs caught alight swiftly, heating the carefully packed logs, and illuminating the room considerably.