by Vaso
It was a long time before Kemp could stir and then he raised himself to look down into her face.
'Are you all right?' he asked her with a tenderness she could hardly credit.
Valentine's lips curved into a slow beautiful smile and her eyes glowed with the memory of a rich rapture. 'More than,' she said on a sigh. 'Oh, God, Kemp! What did you do to me?'
'I made you complete, Valentine,' he said on a note of unbelievable gentleness. 'You're whole now, aren't you?'
'Yes,' she breathed, the joy and wonderment still suffusing her face. She shivered. 'I never knew ... I never knew what it would be, how it would be . . .'
His lips caressed the dampness of her cheeks, moving slowly against them. 'Whole and healed and well . . . and all mine, my darling?'
'I feel I've belonged to you for ever, from before the beginning of time,' she said with languorous, luxurious kisses of her own for the beloved face.
He raised his head a little and drew a quiet breath at
the sight of her exquisite face, the lips generous and tender, the eyes deep wells of fulfilment. 'God, Valentine, you're more beautiful now than you've ever been before. Did I really do that to you?'
'Don't you know?' she asked in a shivery voice, and her smile was like a gradual dawn, slow and infinitely lovely.
'And don't you know what you did to me, my beautiful, unbelievable woman who must have been created by angels?' He smiled into her eyes and his arms tightened about her. 'God, Valentine, I never knew anything like the quality of your loving. You give so much.'
She shifted until she had a hand free to explore his face, the fingertips moving delicately and wonderingly over his high cheekbones, and she smiled when his lips moved against her hand. They had loved and now they looked, their faces close, their murmurings finally dying. Then Kemp lifted himself to pull up the covers before one long arm reached for the switch that could control both lamps. It was then that she saw the scratches she had inflicted on his brown shoulders.
'I'm sorry,' she said as the room was plunged into darkness, her hands finding his shoulders, her fingers lightly caressing. 'I didn't know ... I didn't tealise.'
'They're a compliment, Valli,' he said, and she heard the smile in his voice as he gathered her close. 'They honour me ... I'm glad you never had any other lovers. That too is an honour.'»
Later, when she thought he slept, more tears came, of a different nature this time. At first, lightheaded, she had been content to simply lie there in the shelter of his strong arms, revelling in the feeling that she had at last come to a place .-here she would be safe for evermore.
But the mind was a cruel master. She had known what she was doing earlier, accepting the need to sacrifice part of a dream in return for the fulfilment only Kemp could give her, but it was only now that she realised the full extent of the compromise she had made. She had settled for less than the whole she had wanted, because Kemp would never love her and therefore never marry her. It was less with regret than with sadness and resignation that she wept now. His desire would have to be enough and it was better than nothing, even if it was subtly blended with the wish to achieve revenge through her humiliation.
Because, to Valentine, the position of being his mistress was a humiliating one. Yet she would accept it because he gave her safety, understanding and physical fulfilment. She thought he probably found her desirable enough to keep her as his mistress for years, possibly even after he married, and she was so utterly his that she would be unable to protest. He owned her, heart, body and soul.
She tried to stifle the sobs that tore at her, afraid of waking him. She remembered the threats he had made on Valentine's Day and realised ^ow well he had succeeded in carrying them out, and how subtly, because in bringing her to her knees, all pride vanquished, humbly ready to accept only that part of himself which he would give her and not ask for more, he had still given her so very much. He had brought her to full vital life, making her complete as a woman, and she would know again and again that«insurmountable ecstasy and its subsequent peace, the sensation of having found a haven. He had promised that she would not be alone again and that he would keep her safe, and in a strange way, the keeping of those promises would be' his revenge.
Dear God, he had even made her cry.
She tried to move away from him as grief racked her body, but the arm lying across her suddenly tightened and she realised he was awake.
'Valentine!'
'Well, you wanted me to cry,' she reminded him sadly.
'But not like this.' He drew her close. 'Never like this. Valentine, let this be an end of such terrible suffering. We're at a beginning now, my darling, something new and wonderful that isn't going, to leave time or room for sorrow . . .'
'Let me cry now and I won't again,' she sobbed against the warm curve of his neck. .'I know you'll keep me safe, Kemp.'
'Yes.'
He pacified her with murmured words and soothing caresses, till the tears ceased and his strong stroking hands had stilled the trembling of the slender body. Then he aroused her again, delicately and skilfully, waiting with a fine control until she cried out for him to take her.
'I could die in you like this,' Kemp groaned and, in the last convulsion of ultimate, unparallelled ecstasy, Valentine knew finally and for ever that this joining with the^man she loved mattered far, far more than anything else in the world.
She slipped down into a deep, dreamless sleep then, with Kemp's head a sweet weight against her breasts, and when she awoke early in the morning, no doubts came to torment her again. She looked at his face, now beside hers on the pillows, felt the warmth of the relaxed hand lying against the curve of her waist, and knew that she could regret nothing. She was as sure now as she had been in that first uncanny moment of recognition that Kemp was her destiny.
He awoke a little later to find her watching him in the pearly light of a new day, but the light making her eyes lustrous came from within. The serenity of fulfilment seemed to bathe the flawless surfaces and hollows of her face, and he smiled lazily on seeing the vibrant glori-ousness he had created in her.
'Well, my Valli?' he questioned her gently. 'No more tears? Have the shadows gone?'
'No more tears, Kemp.'
She raised herself on one elbow to lean over him, searching his face. She smiled tenderly at what she saw. Her fingers and lips touched his face and his bright almost-fair hair, and a new pride came to replace that which he had taken from her: the pride of womanhood, because she realised that he was more content and relaxed than she had ever previously seen him. If their relationship fell short of her old ideal, at least she had given to him as he had to her. The fine lines about his eyes seemed to have been smoothed, and his lips were without the familiar ironic twist. She drew a quick breath of pride and pleasure as she recalled his shattering reaction to her in the night, and finally understood what she could do to and for him.
'I'll be everything you need me to be, Kemp,' she promised in an excess of adoration and gratitude. 'Everything you want me to be.'
'My generous Valentine.' She felt his lips smile as she touched them with her own. 'You're everything I want already . . . perfect as you are.'
'You're all that matters. I love you so much.' Her voice quivered with emotion.
His arms came round her as he buried his face in the warm silken tangle of curls, his mouth against the smoothness of her neck.
'God, Valentine!' His voice was oddly shaken as he turned her on to her back. 'You inspire endless desire. I've ached for you through all the days and nights, and having possessed you at last I know I'll never stop wanting you.'
'Kemp . . . my darling!' Valentine's voice cracked with emotion and she began to shake, arching towards him as she felt his hands on her softly swelling breasts.
Valentine didn't count the days. Still less did she count the nights. It was the hours that she counted; those hours when they had to be apart, she dealing with the visiting public while Kemp was busy with the estate'
s office work or inspecting the vineyards. Occasionally she would see him when she conducted 'visitors on a tour of the production cellar and their eyes would meet, full of smiling promise, and once he came to her when she sent Maude for help because a visitor had made Fleurmont the last stop at the end of a day of sampling every wine on every estate and co-operative on the route and his distressed
wife couldn't persuade him to get into the car.
'Does that happen often?' Kemp asked grimly when they had gone, with the wife driving.
'Hardly at all, I imagine,' she assured him. 'It's the first time in my experience.'
'I don't like your being exposed to the sort of suggestion he was making.'
'I'm glad you were near enough to come,' she said, moved by his words and by the protective strength of the hand clasping hers as they walked towards the house.
Later she worked out that it had lasted for five days, but at the time she was unaware of past or future. Only the present was of any moment and it was a present filled with tenderness, passion, harmony and laughter. If this was Kemp's revenge, he had the finesse never to remind her of it. Occasionally he talked to her of his longing to return to his chosen career, but it was clear that he had made no decision yet and Valentine was able to avoid wondering what plans he would make for her if he decided to go away.
It was a time during which Valentine felt as if she blossomed into new life. She was more complete than she had ever been before. Kemp also told her that she had grown more beautiful and the mirror confirmed this.
Kemp watched her do her make-up in the mornings with amused interest.
. 'A work of art,' he commented 6nce, coming to stand behind her as she sat at the dressing-table. 'Beauty concealing beauty.'
Valentine leaned back against him. 'You feel it's unnecessary?'
'No, I like it,' he told her. 'I'd rather the world never saw the Valli I know. I don't want to share her. Flushed and vulnerable, her lips quivering and her voice tremulous with emotion . . . That one is mine.'
'Yes,' she sighed contentedly, her eyes still aglow with the memory of the intimacies they had shared yet again during the night.
'Incidentally,' he went on, 'do you still mind my calling you Valli?'
'Not the way you say it now, darling,' she assured him, her eyes lifted trustingly to his face in the mirror.
He seemed about to say something, but evidently changed his mind, bending to kiss her cheek instead.
He frequently teased her about her lethargy in the mornings for, after spending the night in his arms, Valentine found it difficult to get out of bed. She had cancelled all her dates with Adam and Gary. One night Kemp took her to a small restaurant in^Stellenbosch where dancing with him had been a joy to bring tears to her eyes, but they had left early and returned to Fleurmont to make love tempestuously while she cried aloud her love for him so that she was hoarse afterwards.
It was, too, a time of learning/Valentine was realising the power of being a woman. She had held Kemp's trembling body in her arms and had learned how to make him groan under the weight of his urgent hunger. They couldn't leave each other alone and Valentine's need was never any less than his for her. Their hands and lips learned every inch of each other's bodies until they were able to arouse each other to such a finely wrought pitch of clamorous desire that their every union was a wild, rapturous coming together which left them spent and shaken. Valentine learned about passion and tenderness, and never ceased to be grateful for his allowing his victory over her to take this wonderful form which also gave her fulfilment even as it humbled her, and thus a strange victory of her own, a woman's victory.
Five days then, as Valentine later calculated, or rather, five nights. The fifth morning after their becoming lovers was a Saturday and Sylvie Hattingh had agreed to take over Valentine's duties for that morning. Valentine felt as if she was living close to heaven, but there were prosaic matters demanding her attention. Salome dealt with grocery shopping for the household but Valentine was running out of shampoo and moisturiser and she
wanted to go into Stellenbosch to purchase them.
'Since Sylvie is taking over for the whole morning, I think I'll stay in bed for a while and go to Stellenbosch later,' she told Kemp who had just returned to the bedroom after a shower.
'Lazy,' he teased, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. He sobered. 'Am I making too many demands, my darling?'
She smiled slowly, her dark curls spread out on the pillow. 'Just new demands,' she corrected him with demure mischievousness.
Kemp's long sensitive fingers traced the line of one high cheekbone and his eyes caressed her pale flawless face.
'I'm afraid I have to go as I'm meeting James at the cellar,' he said on a sigh. Til tell Salome to bring you breakfast here. What time will you be back from Stellenbosch?
'In time for lunch,' she told him, capturing his hand and pressing her lips againsfthe insides of his fingers. 'Polo this afternoon?'
'Yes. Do you mind?'
'No, but" this time . . . Do you remember the first time we went to the club, Kemp? Everyone looked at us and I felt so proud to be with you. I wanted to take your arm . . . This time I will.'
Tm afraid no one will be very surprised,' he laughed. 'They all seemed to make up their minds fairly early that you and I would end up the way we have.'
'I recognised that you were right for me the first time I saw you,' she reminded him. 'I suppose they did too.'
'Ah, that party,' he said reminiscently. 'I wasn't sure what you were all about. I didn't trust you at all, but I knew one thing—I wanted you. I looked at you and, arrogant as it sounds, decided I was the only man present who was worthy of you.'
'Very arrogant . . . and very clever.' She smiled, lifting her slim arms to encircle his neck. 'No one else could have . . . fulfilled me as you have done and are doing. Truly, you did make me whole, Kemp.'
His kiss was incredibly tender, and Valentine was smiling when he left the room because she felt as if the loss of her pride was nullified by her supreme happiness.
CHAPTER TEN
VALENTINE showered and dressed in leisurely fashion after Salome, who knew all about her and Kemp and signified her approval with many smiles, had brought her a light breakfast.
Marriage and a honeymoon would have been nice, she thought for the first time, when she was driving to Stellenbosch later, through the autumn gold of the countryside in April. But the thought wasn't wistful, merely humorous, since she had accepted that marriage was out of the question. It was just that she understood one of the practical purposes of honeymoons. They gave new lovers a chance to adapt, gradually, because the intrusions of normal everyday life were suspended. Becoming Kemp's lover when there was still work to be done every morning was somewhat shattering since she had to submerge the sublime spendour of the night in order to contend with the prosaic demands of the day.
She didn't linger over her shopping. There was one other visit to make before filling up with petrol, and then she drove back to Fleurmont at thernaximum permissible speed. She was looking forward to going to the polo club that afternoon. No one they knew had been at the restaurant they had gone to a couple of nights ago, so this would be their first public appearance since becoming lovers. Valentine smiled, feeling a grateful affection for all those who had recognised the elemental attraction which bound her to Kemp. They deserved to know they had been right.
When she arrived back at Fleurmont, she recognised. Emma Ducaine's red car with a sigh of regret. She wondered if Kemp would tell the girl about them or leave her to discover the truth for herself. Either way, Emma would be hurt, Valentine thought compassionately, but perhaps the wound would heal swiftly because the Kemp she loved was not the real Kemp, but an ideal figure she had built up in her imagination.
They were at the garden table and she went towards diem, hoping there would be no unpleasant confrontation with Emma. Hope surged as she saw the third figure because surely Emma would contain her hostility in the
presence of an uninvolved witness.
Valentine went on towards them, a tall slender figure in a soft clinging dress with small red and blue geometric shapes on a cream background. She wondered who the other woman was. She hesitated almost imperceptibly. There had been a small blurred photograph in a newspaper once, but when she had realised who the subject was she had turned the page quickly . . . But then she saw Kemp notice her approach, rise swiftly and come towards her.
The expression on his face confirmed what seconds before she had dismissed as a wild suspicion. His eyes were hard and brilliant, and his mouth was twisted in a way she had not seen for days.
He stopped in front of her so that her face was screened from the two women.
'Rose is here, my darling,' he said quietly, and put his hands to her waist as he saw her sway.
Valentine stiffened, but her eyes were dark with anguish. 'Please, Kemp, don't make me meet her,' she whispered brokenly.
She would never again be as degraded as she was in that moment, reduced to begging.
'You're guilty of nothing, Valentine, so you can face her with courage. She is expecting to meet you,' Kemp added.
'While I come unprepared for the meeting.' She spoke through stiff lips and the wounded look in her eyes was giving way to hatred. Her red mouth tightened. 'All
right, Kemp, but it's the last you'll ever have from
___ _ )
me.
She stepped away from him without waiting for a reply and walked swiftly to the table, but his hand was at her back as he introduced her to Rose de Villiers and, strangely, she could still draw strength from his touch. But it was mostly hatred that bore her up. Bitterness was like acid in her, making her smiles brittle and her eyes over-bright. She dared not think, not while Rose was still here, lest she give way beneath a welter of pain. She would see this through if it killed her. Her hatred extended to Emma too; why had- Kemp involved her in this scene? Simply because he knew Valentine would hate having this final humiliation witnessed by the girl? But she would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her crushed.