by Vaso
Kemp held her very close, but Valentine wished they could be closer. She was slender and graceful in his arms, a miraculous composition of regality and yielding femininity, her pale shoulders gleaming like silk, the midnight darkness of her hair a perfumed mystery of curls. She was quivering, so slightly that it was imperceptible to everyone save the man who touched her.
It was strange, she reflected: he induced this physical weakness in her yet at the same time he strengthened her. She knew she was the star of the night, but knew too that his presence was partly responsible. Without it, she might not have sparkled quite so brilliantly or born herself with quite such self-assurance. He challenged her, yet simultaneously provided her with the strength to meet that challenge.
Her long dark eyelashes swept upwards to reveal the soft lambency of her eyes, and she discovered that Kemp was smiling ironically.
'What's amusing you?' she asked.
He laughed softly. 'I was just thinking how much I'd like to dance a good old-fashioned tango with you . . . An elegant and wonderfully sensual dance, sweetheart.'
A delicately provocative smile touched the feminine red mouth.
'We make an' ideal couple, don't we?' she challenged mischievously.
'Oh, perfect,' he drawled. 'Everyone else seems to think so too.'
'Ah, yes.' Delighted, suppressed laughter gave her voice a shivery sound. 'I too have been made aware of the prevailing trend of thought. James even asked me if we were announcing our engagement tonight, and said it would be a perfect match!'
'Can you be trying to inveigle me into a proposal of marriage?' Kemp taunted.
'I've never been stupid. No, I'm merely trying to disconcert you,' she confessed demurely. 'Nothing seems to shock you.'
'Nevertheless, the fact that public opinion has taken us to such a respectable stage is faintly surprising,' he conceded. 'As ideal as we may appear together . . .'
His tone was very pointed and clearly he felt it unnecessary to finish the sentence. Valentine's smile grew bitter.
'I know,' she agreed tartly. 'I know the things you feel for me, Kemp, things like contempt and hatred, all adding up to a wish for revenge. But just for tonight, couldn't you yield a little . . . show me some kindness?'
'Kindness is the last thing I want to show you, Valentine,' he stated harshly.
Her eyes widened. 'You're just like me: you won't even bend.'
'Oh, I can bend when it suits me to do so. I just can't be bent. There's a difference,' he told her silkily.
'You're warning me, aren't you?' Valentine queried.
'Clever girl,' he approved derisively. 'Yes, and I hope you are also clever enough to heed it. You're a wonderful witch and I'm deriving enormous entertainment from your performance but, ultimately, all you'll be inviting is your own humiliation.',
'We shall see,' she threatened steadily.
'You have to be a masochist!' Kemp exploded furiously. 'You claim to know me, so haven't you yet realised that I can't be manipulated . . . that I won't be? I resent the attempt. You alienate yourself entirely from sympathy and all you'll receive in the end is yet another rejection. Why set yourself up this way?'
'No, no, I've set you up,' she corrected him wickedly.
His smile was a distorted mockery and his blue eyes blazed with anger. 'As you just said, we shall see.'
Valentine knew that if she succeeded in seducing him, Kemp's hatred would be intensified, but she no longer cared. Since he hated her anyway . . . Her inherent instinct for emotional self-preservation had long since been swallowed up by the strength of her resentment. He could not, must not, be allowed to get away with his rejection of her that day when he had made love to her under the mountains in a field full of flowers and then turned from her, mocking her frustration. It had been meant as part of his revenge for Philip, and she hadn't deserved it.
Kemp was often with her during those last hours of the party, dancing with her or keeping her beside him as they mingled with the guests, hJ3 anger either abated or under control, and Valentine continued to enjoy herself.
The catering firm had discreetly removed all traces of their presence, and the band departed at the hour that had been agreed on. Some of their guests had departed, the older ones, those who had to work in the morning, those who had babysitters to free from duty, but those without responsibilities lingered, many with energy enough left to continue dancing to music which now came from the stereo set, the speakers of which had been moved close to the sitting-room windows.
Much later, however, they too departed, but not before being revived for the drive home with a delightful snack of scrambled ostrich eggs which Salome arrived to cook, and a choice of champagne or coffee.
'Where are the dogs?' Kemp asked idly as he and Valentine strolled towards the house when the last car had driven away.
'They went off with Salome when she returned to bed.'
He glanced towards the east where a pallid light was diluting the blackness. 'I think a lot of people are going to sleep until lunchtime today.'
'They enjoyed it,' she said with smiling pride as they entered the hall.
'Yes. You made it a.perfect party, Valentine.' Kemp turned from closing the front door. 'Thank you.'
'And thank you.' She took a step towards him.
Smiling, he shook his head. 'I'm going to bed now, and I too am going to sleep until midday.'
Silently, wondering how to bring about the situation she needed, Valentine turned down the passage beside him. At the door of her bedroom he paused.
'Sleep well, Valentine,' he said.
Valentine switched on the light and turned back to him. 'And you, Kemp?' she asked lightly. 'Did you personally enjoy yourself?'
'Yes, thank you,' he replied urbanely.
A smile flashed. 'It was fun, wasn't it?'
'And you're not in the least tired, are you?' he guessed, looking at her assessihgly.
'No. In fact, I feel ... oh, euphoric, lightheaded!'
A laughing sigh came from her as she lifted her slim arms, the backs of her slender hands coming together high above her tipped-back head. She stood posed like that for a few seconds, tall and straight, the line of her arms as beautifully flowing as any ballerina's, her long fingers fluttering slightly.
'Kemp?'
Slowly she lowered her arms, to rest her hands on his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin through his thin shirt. Her red lips were parted and the tip of her tongue appeared tantalisingly while real stars sparkled in her eyes.
Kemp's face was hard.
'So, Valli?' he derided. 'Love-goddess ... or just an ordinary tart?'
'Find out,' she suggested softly, moving closer to him.
'I don't need to,' he told her sardonically.
Closer she moved, and still closer, until her body was lightly pressed against his. Her hands moved on his shoulders and she offered him her lips silently, striving to control the excitement that was gripping her.
Kemp's lips brushed teasingly across hers. 'Forget it, sweetheart,' he advised shortly.
'Kiss me properly,' she urged fiercely, winding her arms about him, her cool fingers stroking the back of his neck, then moving up to his thick clean hair.
'You're making a fool of yourself, Valli,' he warned amusedly.
'Properly!'
She closed her eyes because his smile was cruel. She felt his lips touch hers again., hovering lightly, until, finally, his mouth claimed hers completely. Valentine's arms tightened about his neck and she felt Kemp's hands at her waist, steadying her suddenly rocking body.
'Again,' she prompted huskily when the kiss ended.
And he did kiss her again—and again. The long sharing of passion was arousing her to an intolerable pitch of desire. She felt his hands move up her back, to where the skin was bare, and she trembled violently, held fast against him. Her hips began to rotate against him in slow, seductive rhythm and she felt the urgent stirring between "his thighs as his lips left hers and he bent his
head to press them to the perfumed smoothness of her bare shoulder.
'Have you changed your mind yet?' he .mocked, but his voice had roughened.
'No.' She was smiling, angelically alluring, when he looked into her face. -'Make love to me, Kemp.'
'What next then, Valli?' he asked with a sort of contained anger.
His arms had slackened and she stepped back a pace, regarding him with a faint stirring of uncertainty, her lips quivering a little.
'Help me,' she whispered.
His lips twisted. 'Oh no, my beautiful witch,' he denied silkily. 'You're supposed to be seducing me, so go ahead and do it.'
Frustration was a hot hardness in her breast and a tightness in her throat, but his contempt only strengthened her determination. Leaving his arms with a gracefully sinuous twist of her lithe body, she walked the few steps to her bed and turned to face him again. He was still standing in the doorway.
'You want me ... I know you do,' she challenged.
Her eyes were dark and burning as they held his, her lips a bright sensuous invitation. Slowly, her eyes nevei leaving his, she twisted her arms round behind her and carefully unzipped her dress. With a soft slither of sound it fell from her body and she was revealed to his gaze, the flawless perfection of her body, the proud firmness of young breasts and the amazing slenderness of her waist.
Kemp's eyes narrowed and his face seemed to tighten, the tanned skin stretched tautly across the beautiful bone-structure.
'A born temptress, both dangerous and delightful,' he commented, apparently idly, but Valentine's eyes sought the outline of his hard male arousal.
'Kemp . . .'There was sorcery in the way she said his name.
He crossed to her then and within seconds they were lying together on the bed while his hands touched, caressed and held, and heat gathered in those sensitive regions of her body that he discovered so quickly.
'God! Valli . . .' His voice was a hoarse gasp, nothing more.
'I want you,' she moaned, completely out of control, aching to know him in her, desire a pulsating, unrestrained hunger.
His mouth touched her breasts and she moaned again at the sensations evoked by the swift,stroking of his tongue, stimulating her nipples.
'Kemp . . . Kemp!' His name kept coming from her, uttered in a strange, breaking voice as she clung desperately, as if he were the source of her very life. 'Quickly . . .'
'Valentine!' he groaned in agony.
She felt congested with desire, her body racked by passion, causing her hips to strain forward. When he withdrew from her clinging arms to stand up, she thought it was to remove his own clothes, but after a moment she opened her eyes to see him standing beside the bed, a half-smile playing about his lips as he looked down at the glowing loveliness of her body which was sprawled on the bed in an attitude of wild, expectant abandon.
'Enough, Valentine,' he said quietly.
'No!' It was a cry of despair.
'But yes, sweetheart.' His voice was level, and infinitely cold. 'I won't be one of your victims. I did warn you that I can't be manipulated.'
'Oh, God,' she said in a flat voice, sitting up, drawing her legs up and encircling them with her arms, resting her head on her knees. 'Why do you have to be so strong . . . and I so weak?'
She had not felt tired before, but now she did so, deathly tired, drained and defeated.
'That difference between us is very significant, but I'll leave you to work it out for yourself,' Kemp told her distantly. She heard him sigh slightly. 'Never mind, Valli, it was a performance worthy of an Oscar from first to last. Right from the beginning of the party you rarely faltered.'
'Don't!'
She had flung her head up sharply. The colour of shame still flushed her cheeks, but her mouth was curved bitterly and in her eyes was'an expression of dignity which had an odd pathos.
'So, Kemp,' she breathed reflectively. 'Once again you've succeeded in humiliating me.'
'Don't regard it in that light,' he advised her. 'You did your best and suffered an honourable defeat.'
'Don't—don't—don't pity me!' Valentine exclaimed furiously.
His lips quirked. 'I, pity you? You know better than that.'
'Of course,' she agreed acidly, collecting herself. 'I was forgetting what little reason you have to feel anything like pity for me.'
His face grew closed. 'You never learn, do you?' he said disgustedly.
'No. I appear to be quite stunningly stupid, in fact,' she agreed, her voice sharpened by bitterness. 'I really am a fool. I quite honestly thought I could . . . seduce you, Kemp. I forgot or disregarded the fact that your strongest desire, where I'm concerned, will always be to either hurt or humiliate me.'
'As I say, you never learn,' he repeated. 'Stop this, Valentine. Bitterness doesn't become you.'
She forced a smile. 'I'm so disappointed in myself, you see,' she mocked, flaying herself. 'I've always prided myself on my intelligence and now it seems to have deserted me. I have only myself to blame, haven't I?'
'Since I did warn you, yes, you have,' he confirmed abruptly. 'But what's the point of self-recrimination? It isn't you, my dear, and it will achieve nothing. What happened to all that pride . . . and all that wonderful acting ability?'
'Crushed,' she confessed tartly.
'I don't believe it.' For a moment a smile appeared in his eyes. 'Temporarily absent, perhaps,, and not surprising at this uncivilised hour. So you've been defeated, Valentine ... So what? It isn't the end of the world, is it? You'll survive. You can survive anything.'
'I'm sure that's one of the reasons behind your wish to punish me,' she suggested stiffly. 'I'm a survivor, Philip wasn't.'
He turned away from the bed than. 'I believe I've said this to you before—you're punishing yourself.'
'Then why must you add to that punishment?' she flung at his back.
He paused, glancing back at her. 'Do you really think that's what I'm doing? Think about it, and when your intelligence returns to you, we'll discuss it. Meanwhile, get some sleep.'
The door closed quietly behind him and Valentine shivered, realising for the first time in several minutes that she had very little on. How had Kemp managed to remain fully clothed? She reflected tiredly that the fact that he had was a sure indication of the yawning difference between the intensity of her need for him and what very little desire he felt for her. And it must very little indeed.
Later, trying to sleep, irritated by the sound of birdsong outside, she cursed her folly yet again. She had been stupid, stupid.
Of course Kemp was stronger than her, quite apart from the fact that the memory of Philip would enable him to resist her quite easily.
How could she have forgotten that, when she had made up her mind to seduce him? It was that very strength which she had known must exist in a man for her to be able to love him, that she had recognized in Kemp right at the beginning, before they had even spoken to each other. To begin with, she had worshipped it in him. She remembered how she had thought, on the occasion of their first meeting, that here was a man whom she could never bring to his knees.
Of course he was stronger than she was. She had been stupid to forget it. It was the difference between him and all the other men she had ever known. How otherwise could she have loved him, but for that invincibility, that sure inability to be broken or bent by anyone or anything in life? And she did love him, consumingly, achingly and despairingly. She loved him with a terrible devouring force that might have frightened her save that she had known since about the age of sixteen that she would one day be capable of such passionate loving.
Kemp had called her a survivor, and when she awoke from the sleep that eventually claimed her, Valentine's own belief in that truth was once more unwavering. She was a survivor and she was not a coward. Thus, she was not going to leave Fleurmont and her job simply in an attempt to escape further suffering. To do so would in a sense be conceding the final victory to Kemp. Anyway, the idea of going and seeing no more of h
im was unbearable.
Nevertheless, although Valentine was determined to endure whatever further humiliations he devised for her,
as she had no doubt he would, she also made up her mind that she would not again provoke him in any way whatsoever. She must never seek him out and arouse his momentary anger because she could never be victorious in any exchange with him. If he wanted revenge for Philip, then he must come to her, unprovoked, and she would endure with as much insouciance as her pride could summon up.
To this end, while not actually avoiding Kemp, Valentine saw less of him than previously, in those still warm April days that followed. She began a whirl of hedonistic activity. There were Adam and Gary and others who asked her out and she was absent from Fleurmont nearly every evening, going to more parties, or to restaurants and hotels, especially those where there was dancing, functions at the university in Stellenbosch when visiting speakers came to deliver speeches, or to shows given by the students covering all the various performing arts. Survival lay in filling one's life and keeping as active as possible, so there was the polo club at weekends, and once she and Adam drove to Cape Town where they went up Table Mountain in the cable car and walked for over an hour, admiring the various views and the enchanting brown dassies basking on the rocks on the sunny side of the mountain, lunching later at Hout Bay on the Atlantic side of the peninsula and ending up at a cafe near Bloubergstrand in the evening.
'Too many late nights?' Kemp enquired one morning when Valentine entered the breakfast room just as he was finishing his own meal.
'A new hairstyle always makes me late.'
He glanced at the smooth chignon which drew the hair back to reveal every aspect of her exquisite facial bones.
'It suits you,' he said with a faint smile.
'Thank you.'
She thought anguishedly—why did he have to be so ... so civilized? It was another of the qualities she worshipped in him] Never once, since the party, had he referred to her attempt to seduce him and her subsequent humiliation. It was as if it had never occurred.
'Where did you go last night?' he asked with idle interest as she sipped her coffee.
'Desmond took me to a party at one of the students' residences at the university.'