Shilo looked at his muscular, golden torso beginning to glisten with moisture, his hirsute chest and thighs, the way his towel was stretched around him revealing every bulge, every sinew, every muscle… And silently scolded herself for admiring his physique. She was surprised to see that around his neck he still wore the chain and pendant she had given him. She tried to wrench her eyes back onto some damp and superficial article on a collagen cream in her now sodden magazine.
She could feel him staring at her, his eyes boring into her, but refused to look up, even though her mind was not on the near-soggy page at all. The silence was deafening and only punctuated by the whispers of hot, moist air emanating from jets on either side of them. Shilo felt very uncomfortable.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the thick, heavy air and then looked up at Stratt who was only two feet away. He was staring straight into her eyes, his face expressionless.
“Listen,” she said impulsively, “I’m really sorry about what I said the other morning. I don’t blame you for being angry… but I’m going to be here for a while before we take Michaela into town. I can’t bear this tension. Can we call a truce?”
He just continued to stare at her with his startling green eyes and without responding. Outwardly he appeared indignant, yet inside he wanted to laugh at her serious expression. She looked so exquisitely beautiful with her face shining, her body gleaming and the promise of her breasts visible at the edge of the towel that was wrapped around her. Her long, shapely legs were only centimetres from his own. If he reached out he could have touched her.
“Stratt, please talk to me?” she pleaded.
No answer. He saw a wet tendril of her hair that had escaped the towel turban and was plastered over her shoulder and onto her chest. He looked deep into those mysterious eyes, but said nothing.
“Stratt? This is so childish.”
The silence was agonizing. She rose self-consciously and picking up her now wrinkled, dripping journal, she took a step towards the door. She felt awful, humiliated. She was on the verge of tears. She had better leave before he noticed. It was like talking to a brick wall, and she certainly did not want to lower herself any further with any more begging – it was not her style. Suddenly he grabbed her wrist as she tried to brush past him.
“Apology accepted,” he said, and then he smiled a sadistic smile.
She had groveled a bit, and he had won. She instinctively tried to pull her arm free, but he held it in a vice-like grip from which there was no escape.
“Two things,” he said, “you don’t talk down to me again. You are no better than me.”
Shilo cringed as she waited for the next point.
“And secondly, you really shouldn’t bring magazines in here – they get wet and disintegrate.”
Suddenly they were both laughing at the wad of wet pages she held in her hand. He pulled her down and she landed on his lap.
“How’s your sunburn?” he asked, trailing light fingers over her shoulder.
“It’s not so sore any more … now I’m just starting to peel. It’s not a pretty sight.”
“That’s not possible,” he mused, “You are always a pretty sight.”
He could not help himself, the words had just tumbled out before he realized the significance of them.
Shilo wanted to flee. She felt trapped. He was flirting with her. It felt wrong. She was a guest and he worked here. But … he was like forbidden fruit. She couldn’t move. Some uncontrollable, supernatural force was slowly drawing her to this man.
He laughed and again ran a finger gently over her flaking shoulder. She was like a magnet. He just had to touch her. He was surprised at how light she was, at how he became instantly aroused as they touched, at how he was enjoying the feel of her so close.
“Stay away from the sun,” he said.
“I never want to see it again.”
There was an uneasy silence. Shilo was acutely aware of her near nakedness, his near nakedness and the thrill of his touch. The next step was to let him kiss her … but she was not ready for that. Not yet. She needed to leave. Quickly.
“Let me go, before I start to cook,” she said standing up.
And with a flurry, she was gone. Stratt rested his head against the cool tiles. Plan A had worked and she had apologised and begged. Now he was still going to play hard to get as he focused on Plan B. God, she was so beautiful. He had longed to kiss her … but he had to hold back. It was just all so wrong.
CHAPTER 6
Stratt thought about this mysterious woman. Something deep inside him had awakened shortly after her arrival. But no matter how hard he had tried to suppress it, it just would not die. And now he was embroiled in this complicated plan, this game of cat and mouse.
He thought about his passionate affair with Iris. He had really loved that woman. Or he had thought he did at the time. He had met her, a law student, at Rhodes University in Cape Town. But she was a city girl through and through. She liked the high life, the shopping malls, the trail of exclusive restaurants, fast cars and the excitement of a hectic social life. Very much like Shilo, he thought, whom he too believed would not be able to bear his lifestyle and the time he spent in the African bush in and around the lodge. The peace and serenity of being at one with nature. Iris found his job of choice and his love for the wild almost repulsive. He had tried to lead these two, and very separate, lives: commuting three hours to Johannesburg at the weekends to be with her, returning to the lodge during the weeks, the long rueful phone calls every night, the lengthy e-mails and text messages on his cell phone, skyping when they could. After two years, and amid the rumours that she was seeing several other men on the side (the scandal pages of a well-known magazine had printed some very suspicious photographs of Iris with several men), they had split up and it had completely broken his heart. He had been afraid to love again and had thrown himself into his work. He had heard that she was now married to a gynaecologist and living in Houghton in Johannesburg. Here he was, twenty-six on his next birthday – and still single…. Still alone in the world. But what did this have to do with Lady Shilo Delucci? She was a pompous, arrogant pain in the ass, but there was something about her that compelled him to be with her … made him yearn for her company. She was like some small, vulnerable child that needed protection and love. He had already had some glimpses of a softer, more likeable person. Yet he knew, that like his beloved Iris, she would never survive a life in the African wilds. So what was the point of pursuing her? He could tell that her hard exterior was wearing away, just like Michaela had said it would. But it was like starting a mission that was doomed to fail. What if they did have an affair? What if they even fell in love? All the signs were there: the obvious sexual electricity between them, the uneasy stares, the deep stirrings that he felt when he was with her … when he touched her. What then? It would be nothing more than a holiday fling. She couldn’t stay here… and he definitely didn’t want to leave all this behind and move to England. Where would that leave them? It would be Iris all over again. So she would go back to England in a couple of months, and he would still be here in the African wild, alone. Maybe he should just cool off his advances and save both of them a great deal of hurt in the long run.
*
Malebane Lodge
“Dear Charles
Africa is so hot it is almost unbearable. I love the lodge we are staying in and the people are satisfactory. They are not familiar with ways of the British though. They are course and too casual about everything. Michaela is doing fine, but feeling the heat more than Dorianne and I are. She is sporting quite a bump now as she can’t hide it behind layers of clothes like she could in England.
I have been on a couple of game drives and seen many different wild animals, including elephants, lion and cheetah. I have had very bad sunburn and a touch of sunstroke, but the locals here know how to treat it.”
Charles smiled to himself. He could just imagine Shilo storming around the game lodge having hi
ssy-fits, ordering the servants around in her haughty way and expecting people to wait on her hand and foot.
“I am missing some of the luxuries that England provides, the internet access, the cell phone coverage are two things I really miss, I feel almost thrust back into the Stone Age actually having to put pen to paper! I can’t remember the last time I did that. But Africa is interesting to say the least. One of the game rangers, his name is Stratt, has borne the brunt of a few tongue lashings from me with his common ways. He is a huge brute of a man, who is sardonic and disrespectful to say the least. But we seem to be getting along fine. Everything here seems so big… ”
Charles folded up the letter before he had finished reading it. He wasn’t missing Shilo at all. He had a wealth of ladies at his beck and call. While the cat was away, the mouse was certainly going to play. And playing he was. Shilo was fine to marry one day: a suitable match with the right sort of girl from the right sort of family. The Delucci fortune was something he would have no trouble laying his hands on in the future. But the world was his playground and the little town of Fiddlersbeck was the next stop. He toyed absent mindedly with his moustache and thought about the evening ahead.
*
That night Shilo entered the darts competition in the Hadedah Bar(11) - another rustic bar adjacent to the dining room. This surprised Stratt, as it was a game that he was sure she would never have normally associated herself with back home in London. It was a game played by rough, intoxicated, and probably working class men in pubs; men well below her station … and certainly not by ladies of her caliber and social standing. But there she was, in skin tight denims and a white halter neck shirt with no bra... Her gorgeous hair was loose and gleaming. He was also shocked when she gave some of the men a good go for their money. “I was quite good at archery at school,” she had quipped. Not that archery was even remotely like darts. But she laughed a lot, and flashed her violet eyes at them and had all of them eating out of the palm of her hand. She would flick her hair flirtatiously and pose for an exaggerated time in the aiming position, knowing that all eyes were on her petite frame. Stratt was still hyped up from the pep talk he had given himself earlier that day … he was going to play it cool, he was not going to lay himself open to getting hurt again, they were too different and it wouldn’t work … but it was very hard not to feel pangs of jealousy as the Americans, especially, lapped her up.
In the semi-finals, Shilo and her team mate, a divorcé from California, beat the Greek couple and went through to the final round against the reigning champions: the rangers – Stratt and Regan.
Stratt had done a fairly good job of pretending she was not there, but was so envious of the way the Californian, whose name was Ronald, stood behind her, and with his arms over her shoulders or on her slim hips, gave her tips on aiming and throwing. He could not keep his hands off her, and she did not appear to mind at all. It was killing Stratt, but he believed he was doing the right thing: Preventing the inevitable.
“Now we’ll see who’s the best,” Stratt whispered to her as she passed him.
“Won’t we just?” she replied, smiling and batting her eyes at him.
It was a close match. They played “Killer” and for a time the two teams were neck and neck. But Stratt and Regan were seasoned at these competitions with the guests. The same rule always applied: Let them believe that they are winning and then suddenly give all that you had got. Soon Shilo and Ronald were beaten by twenty-five points.
She shook Stratt’s hand heartily.
“And to think that was the first time I had ever played,” she laughed.
Stratt saw the American approaching and before he could stop himself, he impulsively got in first.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked putting an uneasy arm around her shoulder in an attempt to usher her to nearby bar counter, and at the same time he asked himself what the hell he thought he was doing. Remember Iris, he reminded himself. He was supposed to be playing it cool. But he had not wanted that Ronald guy to make a move on her.
“Sure. I’ll have a Campari and orange juice,” she replied.
Then they were sitting at the bar together with the Americans, laughing at anecdotes about the Lodge. Shilo sat next to Stratt, and occasionally her leg would press against his, or her arm would brush his, sending electric jolts through him. Shilo seemed to laugh solidly for two hours at Stratt’s humour, and the more she laughed, the more he would play up to it. He reveled in her beauty, and the tilt of her head as she giggled helplessly, her face glowing and radiant, her eyes flashing … and she seemed to only have eyes for him. She had definitely loosened up from that prissy snob he had fetched from the airport two weeks ago.
Shilo had been a little confused for the first part of the evening, not knowing quite what to expect from it. She thought Stratt had made it obvious that he was attracted to her in the sauna that afternoon. She had definitely felt something and she knew he had too. But then he had blatantly ignored her at the darts evening, until much later on, when suddenly he had made a complete turn around. Now he was next to her, and every time they touched, a thrill went through her. Her better judgment said “Stay away!”, but her body and her heart made her act otherwise. It was obvious to everyone around that there was a flirtation in progress: Their stolen looks, and the fact that they only had eyes for each other …
He walked her back to the room afterwards in the moonlight. The sky was clear and one could see the Milky Way and its trillions of stars more intensely than you could see them in the city.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he began, “Are you still interested in a real night drive with spotlights and a camp fire in the bush?”
“Yes,” she answered more hastily than she would have liked, “I’d really love to go – but I would be terrible. You already know how petrified I am of the dark.” She paused outside her room. “Thanks for walking me back,” she said, as she opened the door and flicked on the light.
She turned to face him. And there was something about that look on her face that made Stratt want to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. He wanted to bury his face in her hair and imbibe her … but he kept on reminding himself of what had happened with Iris, and he held himself back. There was an awkward silence.
“So we’ll go tomorrow night?” he asked.
“But isn’t it the dance?” she replied.
“Oh, yes, and Regan and I are supposed to be doing the music. The following night then?”
Shilo pushed the door wide open.
“Hold it!” he snapped, “Don’t move!”
She looked at him bewildered by the sudden and apparently rude command, but his eyes were staring at something behind her.
“What is it? What are you looking at?” she asked.
“Cobra,” he said calmly.
“What? A snake?” she gasped.
He pushed her gently aside and then she saw the reptile slithering in the thick pile of the carpet along the skirting board next to the far wall.
“Holy shit,” she breathed, her heart pounding uncontrollably in her chest.
“Just stay calm,” he said, “No sudden movements,” and stepped into the room.
“You can’t go in there, it might bite you,” she breathed, but he was already in and half way across the carpeted room.
The next few minutes were hyperbolic and seemed to occur as if in slow motion. He moved very slowly, inch by inch, until he was behind the snake and out of its line of vision. He then edged closer, approaching its long, ochre and russet patterned tail. Suddenly, with the speed of light, he lurched forward and then his foot was wedged on the back of the serpent’s spoon-shaped head. He bent down, picked it up behind its head with two fingers and carried it thrashing wildly out of the room. He disappeared into the darkness beyond the rondawel. Shilo recoiled as he passed her, and she was still pressed against the wall, close to hyperventilation, fists clenched and knuckles white, when he returned a few minutes later.
�
�Did you kill it?” she inquired anxiously.
“Why?” he answered, “It was more frightened of you than you were of him. I’ve let it loose in the bush.”
Shilo stared at him in horror.
“You let it loose? I can’t sleep in there tonight – not with snakes and things crawling in! It might come back.”
“Do you want me to search the place for you?” Stratt asked, humouring her.
He looked under the folds of the bedcover and curtains, and under the furniture. He pulled the bed and the dresser away from the wall slightly and peered behind them. He searched the cupboard and inspected the bathroom.
“Looks fine to me. All’s safe, and snake-free,” Stratt said with mock bravado. “But there are a few huge, hairy spiders …” And the he saw her face and added, “Just kidding.”
Shilo's Secret Page 7