I know where I stand with Marcia, and I know I can depend on her to be there whenever I need her.
Dear God! Nathan could not have hurt her more even if he had tried, and the irony of it was that there was a great deal of truth in the words he had flung at her. She had not been there for him when lie had needed her. She had been needed elsewhere, and she had turned her back on Nathan and his needs. She had done what she had considered was for the best, but that argument did nothing to raise her out of that deep pit of misery into which she had been plunged.
Julia did not stir until the dusk had turned to darkness outside, and her feet felt as if they had been weighed down with lead when she switched on the light in the kitchen and swallowed down two headache tablets with a glass of water. She was aching all over as if she had taken a physical beating, and her mind was whirling in total confusion. What had once seemed so right was now so terribly wrong, but she was not capable of seeking clarification for her crazy thoughts.
She opened the refrigerator and took out the piece of steak which she had wanted to grill for herself that evening, but she put it back into the refrigerator and slammed the door shut. If she ate something now she would be physically ill, and she decided instead to take a relaxing bath before she changed into something comfortable.
Her future suddenly looked as bleak as it had been five years ago. At that time she had still had the time-consuming task of nursing her grandmother through the various stages of the terminally ill, but now she had nothing… and no one!
Dammit! If she went on like this she would end up feeling sorry for herself, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.
Julia went to bed late that night, but she could not settle down and go to sleep. Her mind was replaying every agonising word that had been spoken between Nathan and herself earlier that evening, and she was still lying awake in the early hours of the Friday morning when she heard the wind-driven rain beating heavily against her bedroom window, but it came as no surprise to her. She had seen the rain clouds gathering over the distant hills during the previous afternoon, and she had lived in Doornfield long enough to know that this was not a shower which would be over in a few hours.
It rained all day Friday as if to match her dismal mood, and it was still raining the Monday of the following week when she went to work in the morning. The weather did not keep the patients away, and dripping raincoats and umbrellas left puddles of water on the tiled floor in the reception area. The waiting-room was packed when Roland arrived from his early morning rounds at the hospital, and it took almost three chaotic hours before the waiting-room started clearing.
It was during the course of that morning that Warren Chandler telephoned to invite Julia to dine with him at his restaurant in town. A refusal sprang to her lips, and then she thought, 'Why not?' She had not seen Warren for some weeks, and having dinner with him would be preferable to spending another evening alone at home with nothing but her miserable thoughts for company.
She accepted his invitation and, knowing that she was busy, he ended their brief conversation with an abrupt, 'I'll pick you up at seven.'
Julia did not question her decision to dine with Warren until she arrived home late that afternoon. She was tired and irritable, and she was not fit company for anyone, but she could not go back on her word.
It had stopped raining at last when Warren called at her cottage at seven that evening to collect her. Tall, lean and fair, he was immaculately dressed in a dark dinner-suit, and his dark glance was appreciative when she confronted him at the door in a blue chiffon evening dress which she had bought several years ago, but which refused to be dated because of its simple style.
'I like you in blue,' he complimented her. 'It adds lustre to your eyes, and changes your skin to cool alabaster.'
His flattery always made her feel a little uneasy, but, for once, her morale needed a boost, and she smiled up at him with more warmth than she had intended when she locked her door and allowed him to escort her out to his Mercedes parked at her gate.
The Mopani restaurant was situated on the other side of town, and it had become a favourite gathering place among the locals since the first time Warren had opened its doors to the public two years ago. Diners had the choice of an indoor or outdoor meal. In good weather the mopani trees offered sufficient shade during the day, and at night they could dine beneath the coloured lights which trailed along the branches of the trees.
On this night the all-weather tables were deserted beneath the mopani trees. The diners had all chosen to eat indoors, and the restaurant was filled to capacity when Warren led Julia to his private table in a secluded corner at the far end of the restaurant with its attractive log-cabin decor.
This was not the first time Julia had dined with Warren in his restaurant and, as always, a bottle of vintage wine was brought to their table. The wine steward filled their glasses, left the bottle in an ice-bucket beside their table, and disappeared discreetly.
Warren raised his glass to Julia across the candle-lit table, and it was he who kept the conversation flowing while they drank their wine and studied the menu.
'May I recommend the escargots to start with this evening, and the Poussin aux Aromates to follow.'
Julia looked up from her menu to cast a dubious glance at Warren. 'I don't mind the baby chicken grilled with lemon and fresh thyme, but I'm not so sure about the snails.'
'The snails are sautéed with garlic in white wine, and simmered with cream and fresh parsley,' Warren explained. 'You'll enjoy it.'
'It sounds interesting,' Julia admitted, but she still had her reservations.
Warren placed their order and plied her with wine until their escargots were served. The wine had perhaps made her adventurous, she could not be sure, but she actually enjoyed her first taste of snails, and she relaxed to enjoy the rest of their meal.
'Dr Corbett came into the restaurant one evening last week to sample our cuisine,' Warren remarked some time later when they were drinking their coffee, and Julia's heart seemed to jerk uncomfortably in her breast at the topic he had chosen for conversation. 'I suppose you've heard that he's the fellow who bought Honeywell from Tant Sophie Breedt,' Warren elaborated on the subject, 'and I must say that the lady who accompanied the good doctor was quite a dish.'
'Mr Corbett is a specialist, and so doesn't use the title Doctor,' Julia explained, raising her cup to take a sip of strong, aromatic coffee, and congratulating herself on the fact that she could speak without a tremor in her voice.
'Do you know him?' Warren pounced unexpectedly.
'Yes,' she answered him abruptly, and she wondered if she was imagining that a certain tension had suddenly shifted into the atmosphere between them. 'I used to work in a Johannesburg hospital, remember?'
Warren's glance sharpened disquietingly on her face as he leaned towards her across the table. 'How well did you know him?'
'I knew him well enough to be able to tell you that he's a brilliant neuro-surgeon,' she answered him cautiously.
'You didn't know him privately, then?'
'Warren, what are all these questions leading up to?' she demanded with some annoyance.
'I'm not sure.' His dark glance held hers relentlessly. 'I saw an odd look in your eyes when I mentioned his name, and I'm trying to discover the reason behind it.'
'You're imagining things,' she admonished him, swallowing down a mouthful of hot coffee and trying desperately to quell that sense of alarm which was spiralling through her.
'Has anyone ever told you that you're a bad liar?'
'Has anyone ever told you that it's rude to pry into other people's lives?' she counter-questioned sharply.
'Then you are hiding something from me.'
'No!' That lean, handsome face across the table from her creased into a faintly triumphant smile, and her anger evaporated as she leaned back in her chair with a sigh of resignation. 'I really don't know why I should be telling you this, but Nathan Corbett and I were once engaged to be
married.'
Warren's expression sobered as he continued to observe her closely. 'Who called it off? You, or him?'
'I did.' She lowered her gaze hastily to hide the pain of remembering. 'And please don't ask me to explain.'
Warren reached across the table to clasp her hand. 'Julia, I would like you to marry me.'
'If that was intended as a joke, then it's in poor taste,' she rebuked him.
'I'm not joking.'
No, he wasn't, she could see that now, and it flung her mind into confusion. 'But I don't—I mean you can't—'
'You don't have to give me an answer right away, and you don't have to be alarmed by what I have said,' he interrupted her, the pressure of his fingers increasing in a comforting gesture. 'I merely want you to know how I have felt since the first time I saw you, and if you ever need someone to lean on, I would like to think that you will come to me.'
In a matter of seconds Warren had altered their comfortable relationship into something which everything inside her felt compelled to reject, and it saddened her. 'I never guessed that you felt this way.'
'I'm a patient man,' he smiled, a teasing light in his eyes, 'and I have discovered that, when I'm patient, I nearly always get what I want.'
He pulled a comical face to ease the tension between them, and she laughed for what seemed like the first time in weeks. His intensity might have been unwanted before, but suddenly it was like a bracing tonic, and she relaxed completely while they finished their coffee.
It was ten o'clock before Warren took her home, and she was pleasantly tired when, ten minutes later, he turned into the lane that led to her cottage.
'It appears you have a late visitor.' Warren alerted her to the fact that a red Ferrari was parked at her gate, and her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of Nathan leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. 'Shall I stay, or would you prefer to see him alone?' Warren asked her when he had parked his Mercedes behind the Ferrari.
'I'd prefer to see him alone.' Was that choked, husky voice really hers? she wondered as she placed a detaining hand on Warren's arm. 'Thanks for a lovely evening, and please don't get out.'
'Shall I see you again?'
'Call me tomorrow,' she invited, leaning across impulsively to kiss his lean cheek before she got out of the car.
CHAPTER THREE
An owl hooted in a tree close to the cottage when Warren drove away, and Julia shivered involuntarily as she stood watching the Mercedes' tail-lights disappear down the lane, leaving her alone with Nathan. Wisps of cloud drifted across the moon to bathe the earth in an eerie darkness, and the owl hooted once again as Julia turned to see Nathan push himself away from his car.
She could not see his face, but his tall frame was an ominous shadow moving towards her, and her hand fluttered nervously towards the gate to grip it firmly. 'What are you doing here at this time of night?'
'I was waiting for you,' he drawled with a ring of mockery in his deep voice. 'I thought it might be interesting to meet your latest conquest, but he left in such a hurry that I never caught a glimpse of the poor fool.'
Your latest conquest! Her throat tightened as if she had swallowed a piece of food which refused to go down.
'Go away, Nathan!' she hissed through her teeth, her fingers finding the latch on the gate as she spoke. 'Go away and leave me in peace!'
'The least you could do is invite me in for a cup of coffee,' he insisted, and in the darkness the familiar scent of his masculine cologne awakened memories she had tried so hard and so long to bury.
'It's late and I'm tired,' she protested with a desperate need to get away from him, and away from the feelings he seemed to evoke with such diabolical ease.
'I promise not to stay long.'
She heard that familiar note of determination in his voice, and a wave of helplessness surged through her. She knew from past experience that he was immovable once he had made up his mind about something, and nothing short of a bolt of lightning was going to stop him from accompanying her into the cottage.
It was Nathan's hand, not hers, that opened the gate and, taking her silence as acceptance, he ushered her along the stone path that led to her front door. She took her key out of her evening purse, but it was removed from her fingers to unlock the door and, switching on the passage light, Nathan stood aside for her to precede him into the cottage.
Julia did not look at him when she stepped inside and gestured towards the door on her right. 'If you would like to wait in the lounge, I'll—'
'The kitchen will do very nicely,' he interrupted her, and her jangled nerves coiled themselves into painful knots when he followed her down the short passage into the kitchen.
She switched on the light and left her evening purse on the table as she crossed the room to put water into the kettle. She heard the legs of a chair scraping on the tiled floor when he seated himself at the table, and her body tensed when she sensed that his razor-sharp eyes were following every movement she made. It angered her when she noticed the visible tremor in her hand as she plugged in the electric kettle and switched it on. Damn him! she cursed Nathan silently while she set out the cups and spooned instant coffee into each one. Damn him for making her feel like a specimen under a microscope!
'I always liked you best in blue,' he said, the scrape of the chair legs on the floor jarring her sensitive nerves when he got up and crossed the room to stand behind her. 'There's only one thing wrong with your appearance.'
'No!' she exclaimed in alarm, sensing his intentions, but his hands were in her hair before she could stop him, and the combs were deftly removed to let her honey-brown hair cascade in glossy waves down on to her shoulders.
'You have beautiful hair, Julia,' he murmured, running his fingers through it. 'And it's still as soft and as fragrant as I remember.'
She was too afraid to move when she felt him bury his face in her hair. The heat of his body against her back was suddenly a delicious torment, and she knew she had to put a stop to it before her emotions got out of hand.
'Nathan, I think you should—'
'It's surprising how much I can remember about you,' he went on as if she had not spoken, his strong surgeon's hands in her hair making her scalp tingle. 'There's a little mole in the nape of your neck… yes, here it is, and I can remember how you trembled when I used to kiss it… like this.'
His mouth was like fire against the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck, and her eyelids felt heavy when those familiar tremors raced through her body to alert every nerve and sinew to the pleasure of his touch, but her mind shouted out a warning which she could not ignore. If Nathan was out to rekindle old fires, then his motive was revenge, and not love.
'Stop it, Nathan!' she cried out in fear and anger as she twisted away from him into the corner of the wall unit where the kettle was hissing as an indication that it was heating the water. 'For God's sake, stop it!'
'Does your new boyfriend make you tremble when he touches you?' Nathan demanded with a derisive mockery that made her cringe inwardly. 'Does the poor sap have any idea that your relationship will never progress because you are nothing but a tease?'
'A tease?' she echoed stupidly, too stunned for the moment to grasp what he was saying.
'Yes, Julia,' he smiled cynically, his black sweater and slacks heightening that element of danger lurking beneath his outwardly controlled appearance. 'You tease a man into believing that you want him as much as he wants you, but you will always back off just before he can got you into his bed.'
'Dear God!' she breathed, white to the lips and shivering inwardly as if the blood in her veins had turned to ice.
'I was the biggest sap of all,' Nathan laughed harshly, his blue eyes raking her contemptuously. 'I never pressured you too much because I was foolish enough to want to marry you before I took you to bed, and you played along until the very last before you backed out.'
Julia was shattered by the mental picture he had painted of her, and horror and revu
lsion fought for supremacy when she forced herself to meet his cold, contemptuous stare. 'Nathan, it—it wasn't like that at all!'
'How do you manage to look so innocently sincere while all the time you're a lying little bitch?' he demanded with a stinging disdain that was like a savage, crushing blow delivered directly to her heart. 'The water is boiling,' he changed the subject abruptly, glancing beyond her.
Only then did she hear the high-pitched whistle, and she turned sharply to switch off the kettle. Her hand shook violently when she tilted the kettle to pour water into one of the cups, and she somehow missed her mark, to pour water into one of the cups, and she somehow missed her mark, to pour boiling water over her hand which was resting on the cupboard beside the cup.
Her gasp of pain coincided with Nathan's exclamation of anger, and her hand was snatched and held beneath the cold-water tap. The flow of water eased the sting while Nathan took a tray of ice cubes out of the refrigerator and emptied them into the sink. He pushed the plug into the drain opening and Julia stood silent with agony as he lowered her hand into the swiftly rising water in the sink.
She bit down hard on her lip to stop herself from crying out in protest against the sting of the icy water against her tender skin, but she could not stop the tears that filled her eyes and spilled on to her pale cheeks.
Nathan was standing beside her, his hard chest against her shoulder and his breath fanning her cheek as he held her hand in the water. She wished that she could turn and rest her head against his shoulder, but she dared not, and she stared fixedly at that strong, slender-fingered hand grasping her wrist. Could he feel her pulse racing? Did he know what a sweet agony it was to be this close to him physically, and yet so far removed from him mentally?
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