Barbara shivered visibly. 'Good heavens!'
'Don't allow Kate to frighten you with her ghost stories,' Rhyno's deep voice spoke behind them, and there was a glitter of anger in his eyes when they swung round to face him.
'You were only teasing, were you?' Barbara laughed, seeking confirmation from Kate.
'Yes,' Kate admitted with a reluctant smile. 'The fire was real, also the death of the Malay servants, but they were buried a considerable distance from here.'
'Thank goodness for that!' Barbara exclaimed humorously.
'They're waiting for us to start dinner,' Rhyno announced, linking Barbara's arm through his and adding with unfamiliar concern, 'I hope Kate hasn't impaired your appetite with similar stories as weird as the one I overheard?'
'I made use of one of my father's amusing but untrue anecdotes,' Kate intervened, an unfamiliar ache in her throat as she glanced at the woman walking between Rhyno and herself. 'I'm sorry.'
'Oh, don't apologise, Kate,' Barbara laughed lightly. 'You told it most convincingly, and the amusing part is that I actually believed you.'
Kate's glance met Rhyno's, but unlike Barbara he was not amused by Kate's little prank. He looked, in fact, extremely annoyed, and his oddly protective -manner towards Barbara Owen somehow intensified that ache in Kate's throat, forcing her to swallow in an effort to ease it.
'I thought you were never coming back,' Gavin whispered to Kate when she reached his side, but Aunt Edwina rose from her chair before Kate could reply.
'Shall we go through to the dining hall?'
The evening assumed nightmare qualities for Kate. Facing Rhyno across the length of the table, she was conscious of the way he looked at Barbara Owen, and the ease with which they conversed with each other. Why it should have bothered her, she could not imagine, but it triggered off something within her that made her behave towards Gavin in a way which could almost have been termed as flirting.
Rhyno's dark eyes glared at her from time to time across the table, but she merely stared back with a certain insolence before allowing herself to be drawn into a conversation with Gavin once again. Through it all Aunt Edwina remained the perfect hostess, but Kate, who knew her so well, noticed the disapproval in every line of her face, and she knew that the disapproval was directed at herself.
When, at last, they retired to the living-room to finish off the superb dinner with one of Solitaire's best wines, it was Aunt Edwina who explained to Barbara how wine had been made in the early days when she had been a young girl, and she spoke reminiscently of the gaiety of the wine festivals which had been held on Solitaire in her youth. Rhyno later explained the newer, more modern methods, and Kate could not help thinking that they had a totally enthralled audience in Barbara Owen, who apparently could not hear enough of the winemaking activities on the estate.
In need of a dose of fresh air, Kate did not protest when Gavin enticed her out on to the terrace, and it was there that he remarked curiously, 'I didn't know you were on friendly terms with Barbara Owen.'
Kate sighed inwardly. Was there no way of escaping from that woman? she wondered irritably, but her voice was calm and noncommittal when she said: 'I actually met her for the first time this evening.'
'I see,' Gavin muttered, then he drew Kate to his side and asked in a conspiratorial manner, 'Wasn't there something on the go between her and Rhyno before your marriage?'
'I suppose the same thing that was on the go between you and me,' Kate replied with a tight smile.
Gavin drew a little away from her to stare at her in the darkness. 'You believe they were just friends?'
'Oh, come on, Gavin,' she laughed softly and convincingly. 'Is there any reason why I should think differently?'
'No reason at all,' Gavin smiled, turning her to face him, and his appreciative glance travelled over her, taking in her full-skirted dress with the sash around her slim waist, and the smoothness of her bare shoulders in the moonlight. His hands tightened on her arms, and his voice was a little rough as he said: 'You look lovely tonight.'
'Yes, she certainly does,' Rhyno's voice made them jerk apart guiltily, and the next moment Kate found herself trapped against Rhyno's side with his arm heavy and possessive about her waist. 'Marriage suits her, don't you agree with me, Gavin?' he asked in a voice that sounded friendly on the ears, but sent a chill coursing up Kate's spine.
'I agree with you,' Gavin replied smoothly, covering up his embarrassment with admirable swiftness.
There was an awkward little silence while Kate stood stiffly in the circle of Rhyno's arm. She wanted to thrust him from her, but she knew she dared not, then he said in that dangerously convivial tone, 'There's still plenty of wine left inside, if you'd like to fill up your glass.'
'Thank you, I will,' Gavin muttered, and Kate could not help noticing that he looked relieved at being allowed to escape.
The moment they were alone on the terrace Kate said coldly, 'Kindly remove your arm.'
'Certainly,' said Rhyno, but he did not release her entirely. His fingers bit into her wrist, and she was jerked deeper into the shadows where they could not be seen. Before she could open her mouth to utter a protest he had caught hold of her shoulders, jerking her up against him with a force that literally knocked the breath from her body, and she found herself staring up into eyes that were glittering with fury in the moonlight. 'You started this game, Kate,' he warned in a voice that sounded like the low rumble of thunder, 'but play it by the rules, or you might find yourself indulging in a game of a totally different calibre!'
'And what exactly do you mean by that?' she demanded when she managed to get her breath back.
'Work it out for yourself, but just remember one thing…' His hands tightened on her shoulders as he paused, then he added savagely, 'I won't be made a fool of.'
Kate stared up at him with an incredulous expression in her wide eyes. 'I believe you're threatening me?'
'You're dead right, I am!'
His thighs were hard against her own, and his hands on her shoulders seemed intent upon crushing the fragile bones beneath the skin, but for one crazy, heart-stopping moment she forgot the pain and longed to feel his lips against her own. She felt his breath on her face, and closed her eyes, but then she was thrust from him with a force that made her utter a startled little cry as she stumbled away from him. .
Humiliation stung her cheeks when they returned to the living-room, but she could not help thinking that, if it had been Barbara out there in the moonlight with him, he would not have behaved so harshly, and somehow this irrational thought had the power to hurt her.
Barbara and Gavin left almost simultaneously that evening, and when Kate finally went to bed she decided that the evening had been a failure in every respect. She had prepared herself to dislike Barbara, but instead she had found herself doing exactly the opposite. Barbara Owen was cultured, well versed in most subjects, and she was beautiful, and seeing Rhyno and Barbara together made Kate realise how very much they complemented each other.
That ache was back in her throat, and there was something else, too, which she was forced to admit to herself. She was jealous!
'Oh, hell,' she muttered fiercely into the darkness. 'I'm damned if I'll allow myself to fall in love with Rhyno!'
She was fired with determination in this respect, but she had a sinking feeling that her heart might let her down in a moment of desperate need.
CHAPTER SIX
Life on Solitaire settled into a rigid pattern which was not exactly dull, but neither was it pleasing. During the week Kate helped where she could with the accounts, or with the despatching of wine in the cellars, and at weekends she usually invited Gavin, Barbara, and Naomi van der Bijl to Solitaire. They would have a braai, play tennis, go for long walks, or simply sit around enjoying the fading warmth of the autumn sun. It was one way of continuing her friendship with Gavin, but it was also a way of discovering what Barbara meant to Rhyno.
Barbara had a way of coaxing from Rhyno th
ose rare smiles which transformed his rock-like features in a way that made Kate's heart leap oddly in her breast, and on many occasions she had found herself fighting against an intense longing for something she could not even explain to herself.
She sighed and closed the magazine she had been trying to read. What was the use of pretending to be engrossed when she had not taken in more than a half dozen words?
The rustle of paper made Edwina Duval glance up from her knitting, and the light of the reading lamp accentuated the wrinkles on the once smooth features as she remarked sternly, 'I suppose we're going to have a house full of guests again this weekend.'
'I don't think I'll invite anyone this time,' Kate replied, but what she did not say was that she could no longer bear to watch the easy familiarity between Rhyno and Barbara.
'Thank heaven for that!' Edwina sighed, returning to her knitting with a less severe expression on her face.
Kate sat for a moment studying the nimble fingers, the slender figure, and the greying hair which had been braided and twisted into a knot in the nape of her aunt's neck. For twenty years this woman had been mother and aunt to her, but for the first time in her life she found herself studying her aunt in a disturbingly different way.
'Why did you never marry and have a family of your own, Aunt Edwina?' she asked suddenly, and Edwina lowered her knitting abruptly to stare at her niece with a puzzled expression in her eyes.
'You've never asked me that before.'
'Perhaps it's because I've selfishly never considered that you were entitled to as much happiness as anyone else. You were always there; the stern mother, and the lovable aunt, and it never crossed my mind that it should be any different.' Kate's glance sharpened. 'Did you forsake your own personal happiness to look after Daddy and myself?'
'No, I didn't,' Edwina shook her head firmly and smiled. 'There was a man once, but in the end he married someone else, and although I've always been perfectly free to marry whom I pleased, no one else has ever appealed to me in that way.' Her grey eyes danced with hidden mirth. 'Does that answer your question?'
'It does,' Kate smiled, feeling extraordinarily relieved for some reason, and, dropping her magazine on to the floor beside her chair, she rose to her feet and hugged her aunt with a warmth and spontaneity stemming from childhood days. There was a lump in her throat, and her eyes filled with unexpected tears as she kissed the cool cheek and whispered 'I think I'll go for a walk.'
It was a dark night, and the chill of winter was in the air as Kate stepped out of the house. She pushed her hands into the pockets of her short leather jacket, and walked on aimlessly until she glimpsed a light in the cellars. What was Rhyno doing there at this time of night? Curious to find out, she quickened her pace, and took a short cut through the shrubs towards the well-trodden path leading from the house.
She found Rhyno in the underground cellars beside one of the vats, and there was a glass in his hand which he held up towards the light. Kate brushed her hair out of her eyes, and it was what she saw in that glass that shot her blood-pressure up several degrees.
He turned at the sound of her light footsteps on the concrete floor, and the familiar smell of fermented grapes and ageing wine was all around her as she demanded coldly, 'Since when do we produce a Rose?'
'As of next year, when it will be bottled and ready for marketing,' Rhyno replied, sniffing at the blended wine with infuriating calmness. 'It's time Solitaire added a Rose to its list of quality wines.'
'That's your opinion, I suppose.'
'It was originally your father's opinion, but I agreed with him, and he allowed me to do the blending.' Kate bristled suddenly with anger. 'Why wasn't I told?'
'You showed very little interest in the wine cellars during my first eighteen months here on the estate,' Rhyno accused harshly. 'Perhaps that's why your father never told you.'
'You could have told me.'
His mouth twisted cynically. 'When, Kate, did you ever give me the opportunity, or sufficient encouragement, to tell you anything?'
The truth stung, but she was determined not to show it. 'I suppose if I hadn't walked in here this evening I would never have known a thing about what was actually going on here in the cellars,' she said coldly.
'Stop looking for an argument, Kate, and give me your honest opinion,' he sighed, almost thrusting the glass into her hand.
'Well, what do you know?' she smiled sarcastically, her fingers tightening about the stem of the glass. 'The oh-so-clever Rhyno van der Bijl is actually asking for my lowly opinion!'
'I've never pretended to be anything that I'm not, so cut that out!'
His thundering voice echoed in the rafters, and filled her with shame. Whatever else Rhyno might be, he was not a pretentious man who flaunted his highly specialised qualifications and knowledge of viticulture in front of others, and she lowered her gaze before his as she murmured, 'I'm sorry.'
He brushed aside her apology with an impatient gesture of his hand. 'Taste the wine, and tell me what you think of it.'
Kate obeyed, raising the glass first to her nose to sniff at it. 'It has a delicate bouquet,' she admitted reluctantly, but when she took a small mouthful and swivelled it round her tongue before swallowing, she could not withhold her honest opinion. 'Hm… it's clean, well balanced, and with plenty of body, I should say. It tastes promising.'
He removed the glass from her fingers and studied it against the light once more. 'I've entered it in the wine show next month.'
'You're crazy!' she gasped incredulously.
His eyebrows rose a fraction above mocking eyes. 'Because I believe this wine has potential?'
'Because you're wasting your time,' she corrected sharply, and her voice rose faintly in agitation. 'What happens when you take over La Reine? What if you decide to produce your own wines independently, and where does that leave Solitaire when La Reine possesses the essence of this Rose—or do you intend to market it eventually under your own label?'
'La Reine's wine has been marketed under the Solitaire label for over twenty years, and I see no reason to change that.' He placed the glass on an upturned barrel and thrust his hands into the pockets of his brown, corded pants. 'Unless, of course, you have plans to bar my produce from your cellars once our marriage is over.'
She managed to sustain his bold, challenging gaze, and smiled faintly. 'Don't put ideas into my head.'
'Kate…' His hands emerged from his pockets and for one heart-stopping moment she thought he was going to take her in his arms, but he merely gestured vaguely, and asked with a hint of irritation in his deep voice, 'Do you have to have Gavin Page here as often as you do?'
Antagonism emerged from her inexplicable disappointment, and her voice held a hint of sarcasm when she said: 'I've always made a point of also inviting Barbara Owen, or haven't you noticed?'
'I've noticed.' Those glittering hard eyes held hers captive. 'I've also noticed that you've done your best to tie up our weekends these past weeks, as if you're afraid you might have to spend some time alone with me.'
'Don't be silly,' she denied hotly, hoping he would not notice the guilty flush staining her cheeks. 'I enjoy Gavin's company, and I have every reason to believe that you feel the same way about Barbara.'
'I don't deny that I find Barbara's company enjoyable,' he replied without hesitation, sending those now familiar little darts through her. 'She's a sensible, intelligent woman with a warm, passionate nature, and we can have a conversation without her becoming waspish for no reason at all.'
'How nice for you,' Kate remarked acidly. 'You will at least have her passionate warmth to sustain you through the months ahead, and if I'm waspish then you know where to go to have the sting soothed away.'
'Dammit, Kate!' He was beside her in an instant, his hands biting into her shoulders through the leather jacket, and his face was a harsh, impenetrable mask above her. 'You're behaving like a petulant, infuriating child, and the temptation to put you across my knee has never been stronger!'<
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Her eyes flashed blue fire up at him even though her senses were quiveringly alert to his nearness. 'Do that, Rhyno, and I shall hate you till I draw my last breath,' she hissed through her teeth.
'Will you, Kate?'
There was a dangerous glitter in his eyes, and the roughness of his knitted sweater was beneath her palms as she tried to thrust him from her, but her wrists were seized and her arms were twisted helplessly behind her back. The touch of his hard body against her own set off a vibration within her long before his free hand slipped inside her jacket, and underneath the blouse she had not bothered to tuck into her slacks.
Her breath caught in her throat when that warm, rough hand touched her flesh, and she quivered with a strange mixture of excitement and fear. She found herself gazing hypnotically up into his dark eyes, and saw something there that made her heart beat hard and fast against her ribs.
'Let me go,' she ordered in a voice that should have been cool and unruffled, but instead it sounded shockingly unsteady.
'You ought to be taught a lesson, and I have a feeling that I'm the one to do so,' Rhyno smiled twistedly, his fingers carrying out a series of skilful little caresses along the hollow of her spine that shot tiny fire darts along her veins.
Never before had she found herself in such a dangerous situation of wanting a man's touch, and knowing that she dared not allow it. Her mind warned against it, but her body responded like a musical instrument in the hands of a master, and an odd weakness invaded her limbs.
'Don't do that!' she begged frantically, struggling in his grasp, but her efforts merely succeeded in making her more aware of thrusting hips and muscled thighs that seemed to be grinding into her mercilessly to induce a melting sensation that intensified the emotions clamouring through her.
'Is it fear that's making your heart beat so fast, or is there some other reason for it?' he asked softly, his eyes on that tell-tale pulse at the base of her throat which was beating so madly, and her face became suffused with angry colour.
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