Season of Shadows (13 page)

'Anton is a law unto himself,' Laura smiled ruefully.
'He's master of his ship, and ruler of his kingdom. He doesn't take
kindly to interference, and my reasons are quite likely to be
misconstrued.'

'I know,' Gina nodded, 'but keep in mind what I said and
when the time is right, use whatever influence you have.' A warm smile
flashed across her face. 'At the moment he may be rather blind where
you're concerned, but in time he'll realise what a gem he has for a
wife.'

'You always do a pretty good job of boosting my morale,
Gina,' Laura laughed, but her laughter brought her close to tears.
'Thank you.'

Gina had shed some light on the subject of Anton's cynical
attitude, but there had to be more to it than that, Laura decided when
she returned to Bellavista later that morning. Upstairs in their
bedroom she found Anton's letter and read it through once again. One
sentence stood out above all the others: 'I was initiated into a
woman's treachery at a very early age.'

'A very early age,' Laura repeated the words softly to
herself. When he was a child, perhaps? Or could he have been referring
to himself when he had been in his teens, a time when most people were
inclined to be oversensitive? Had there been someone else at the time?
Someone Gina had no knowledge of?

Laura's compassionate heart ached for him, but her logical
mind remained vaguely unsympathetic, reserving judgment until all the
facts were known. Anton was not a fool. Surely he must know that not
all women are as despicable as Camilla von Dissel, and goodness knows
how many others there may have been who unwittingly attributed to his
low opinion of women.

She lowered her eyes to the letter in her hands, and the
first sentence sprang to life. 'Let last night be a lesson to you.' She
winced at the memory of his cruelty. Last night had been a night of
pleasure and pain, and the latter was something she hoped she would
never have to endure again.

The
sun rose behind the Hottentots Holland mountains with a lazy
brilliance, transforming the small coastal town into a breathtaking
paradise of green hills reaching out into the sea, with a stretch of
golden sand dividing them. It held Laura spellbound and reluctant to
climb down from her comfortable perch on the rocks in order to return
to the cottage.

This was their fourth day at Gordon's Bay, and although
the days had passed swiftly with Sally as companion, Laura had spent
the nights in a restless turmoil, wondering what Anton was doing, and
torturing herself with the memory of that last night they had spent
together before his flight to Johannesburg. Her inability to sleep had
driven her from her bed each morning before dawn to await the sunrise
on the rocky beach, and afterwards she would return to the cottage
feeling oddly at peace with herself.

The breeze moved playfully through her hair, lifting it
from her shoulders and blowing it against her cheeks. In her haste to
leave the cottage that morning she had not bothered to pin it up, and
she flicked it back absently now, turning her face into the breeze so
that it lifted her hair gently in a thick honey-brown curtain behind
her.

The sea was never still, rising and falling like a living,
breathing thing sending foamy breakers rushing towards the shore. It
lashed the rocks beneath her motionless figure, sending up a frothy
spray that left crystal-coloured drops on her cheeks like lost tears
beneath shadowed blue eyes. A seagull settled on a rock nearby, cocking
its head in her direction as if expecting to be fed with titbits, but
when none were forthcoming, it flapped its wings and flew off with a
disgusted screech.

The sound of its departure made her stir. Sally would soon
be awake and wanting her breakfast before they went for an early
morning swim, and Laura sighed inwardly, for after a hectic day,
another sleepless night would follow.

'Don't move!' a voice ordered sharply when she was about
to get to her feet and, startled into immobility, she obeyed until that
same voice said a few seconds later, 'You can relax now.'

She turned her head swiftly and her cautious, yet curious
glance encountered a tall, lanky man with untidy sun-bleached hair. His
denims were as faded as the blue shirt he wore, and the sandals on his
feet had obviously seen several summers.

'May I know what all that was about?' she demanded, wary
of strangers after some of the encounters she had had with reporters,
but she could not prevent her lips from quivering in response to his
flashing smile.

'My apologies,' he replied, moving a book in the air as he
climbed over the rocks towards her. 'I couldn't resist sketching you.
You looked like a mermaid sunning herself on the rocks.'

'You're an artist?'

'For my sins, yes,' he said, and white teeth flashed in a
thin, hungry-looking face as he seated himself beside her without
invitation. 'The name's Alex Muir.' He paused, grinning as he added
hopefully, 'You may have heard of me?'

Laura gave the matter unnecessary thought, then she shook
her head. 'Can't say that I have.'

'Ah, my ego has been mortally wounded, but no matter,' he
laughed teasingly, then she was placed under the direct scrutiny of his
remarkably alert hazel eyes. 'May I know your name?'

'It's Laura—Laura DeVere,' she added hastily,
still finding it difficult to link her name with Anton's.

'DeVere,' he frowned thoughtfully. 'You're not related to
the
Anton DeVere of DeVere Enterprises by any chance, are you?'

Hearing Anton spoken of in such grandiose terms sent an
unpleasant ripple of shock through her, making her see the situation
from an angle which had not occurred to her before, but which was now
intolerably clear. Anton was a prominent and wealthy businessman from
one of the most distinguished families in the Cape, while she was a
nobody from nowhere whose niece happened to be his ward—it
was as simple as that! And nothing, not even marriage to him, could
elevate her to a position where she might imagine herself worthy of him
in any way.

She became aware of Alex Muir awaiting her reply, and said
in a voice that sounded curiously flat to her ears, 'I'm his wife.'

A long, low whistle emanated from the lips of the man
seated beside her as he studied her with renewed interest. 'Some men
have all the luck!'

Laura felt her cheeks grow pink and got to her feet. 'I
have to go.'

'Not yet.' Long, sensitive fingers curled about her wrist
with surprising strength. 'Would you sit for me?'

'Sit for you?' she asked blankly, her mind too full of her
own disturbing thoughts to grasp what he was referring to.

'I must do this portrait of you seated on the rocks,' he
explained. 'I've done the preliminary sketches, but I'd like to do a
more detailed portrait.'

Laura shrank from the idea, and freed her wrist from the
grip of his fingers. 'I'm sorry, but I—'

'I shan't impose on too much of your time,' he interrupted
persuasively, rising to his feet and looking incredibly tall because of
his thinness. 'I have a studio in Cape Town, and my number is in the
book.'

'Mr Muir, I don't—'

'Alex,' he corrected swiftly with that flashing,
all-embracing smile which she was certain could charm a bee away from
its honey at times. 'Everyone calls me Alex.'

'Very well, then… Alex,' she relented, unable
to suppress the answering smile that curved her lips. 'I'm afraid
sitting for you is out of the question. I'm flattered, but—I
don't think my husband would approve.'

'Can't say that I blame him for being jealous and
possessive where you're concerned,' Alex replied, jumping to the wrong
conclusion, but she did not correct him, and he shrugged lightly. 'Oh,
well, I'm returning to Cape Town tomorrow. If you should change your
mind, give me a ring some time.'

'I shan't change my mind.'

'I shan't give up hoping,' he assured her as she climbed
off the rocks and leapt on to the sand. She turned to glance back at
him contemplatively, and he raised his hand in salute. 'So long,
mermaid.'

Mermaid
. The word echoed through
Laura's mind while she hurried across the soft golden sand towards the
cottage, and she giggled suddenly, but it was a mirthless, faintly
hysterical sound which she was forced to stifle when she entered the
silent cottage to find Sally awake and dressed. 'Where have you been?'
she demanded accusingly as she came down the passage towards Laura.
'I've been worried about you.'

'I'm sorry,' Laura replied, instantly contrite. 'I took a
walk down to the beach, and lost track of the time while I sat on the
rocks watching the sun rise.'

'I was worried,' Sally repeated, her eyes filling with
sudden tears. 'I thought something had happened to you.'

'Oh, Sally!' Laura drew the child against her and held her
tightly, understanding her fears. 'I shan't go out like that again
without telling you, and that's a promise.' Sally's arms tightened
convulsively about her waist and, lowering her head until her cheek
rested on the smooth, dark head, Laura whispered, 'Come with me to my
room so that I can do something about my hair, then you can tell me
what you would like to have for breakfast.'

'Don't tie up your hair,' Sally said at once, drawing a
little away from Laura to look up at her with serious brown eyes. 'You
look soft and pretty with it hanging loose.'

Laura was not sure at all that she wanted to look soft and
pretty, but if it pleased Sally at that moment, she would leave her
hair down, and, taking the child's hand in hers, she led the way into
the kitchen.

After breakfast that morning they tidied the cottage, went
for a swim, and scoured the beach for non-existent shells. After lunch
Laura drew the curtains and made herself comfortable on the spare bed
in Sally's room, mainly to encourage the child to rest in the heat of
the day, and later that afternoon they went down to the beach once
more. Sally amused herself building sand-castles, and Laura finally
became involved in her efforts, but the tide was coming in and, after
the first wave demolished their carefully constructed castle, it turned
into a hilarious game which had Sally rolling about helplessly each
time a wave reduced her castles to untidy heaps of wet sand.

When Sally eventually tired of the game, Laura sat back on
her heels and observed her closely for a moment before asking, 'You're
not unhappy, are you, Sally?'

'Of course not,' Sally replied at once, a faraway look
coming into her eyes. 'I miss Mummy and Daddy sometimes, but I'm happy
staying with you and Uncle Anton.' She looked up at Laura suddenly, and
sighed, 'I wish Uncle Anton were here with us now, don't you?'

'I wish it too,' Laura replied with a sincerity that came
from a heart filled with a sudden longing to see Anton, to be near him,
to touch him, and, suppressing a little sigh, she tugged playfully at
Sally's hair. 'Let's have a quick swim before we return to the cottage
to see to the dinner.'

The water was cool against her sun-heated skin, and they
swam about vigorously, joining hands occasionally to plunge into the
waves, and emerging a few seconds later, coughing and spluttering with
laughter.

They surfaced on one such occasion and, when their
laughter subsided, Sally wiped the water from her eyes and blinked,
then she pointed towards the beach, and shrieked, 'Uncle Anton! It's
Uncle Anton!'

Laura swung round in disbelief, then her heart lurched in
her breast, and her legs felt as if they had suddenly turned to jelly.
The man walking tall and erect across the almost deserted beach towards
the spot where they had left their towels was unmistakably Anton, and
Sally, wild with excitement, was running through the shallow water and
up the sandy beach towards him, her wet pigtails flapping behind her.
Laura followed at a slower pace, drawing a horrified breath as, with a
total disregard for Anton's immaculate grey suit, Sally flung her wet
body against him and locked her arms about his waist.

'Oh, to be a child!' she thought with sudden envy, but her
envy turned to embarrassment when she realised that her appearance left
much to be desired. Her hair hung in limp, wet strands about her face
and shoulders, and Anton's keen glance wasted no time in roaming with
systematic slowness down the length of her bikini-clad figure as she
walked across the sand towards him with a fast beating heart.

'Hello, Laura,' he said casually, his face expressionless
now as he raised his glance from her tanned, shapely limbs to observe
the heightened colour in her cheeks. 'Surprised to see me?'

'Surprised isn't quite the word,' she replied in a
remarkably controlled voice while she pulled on her beach robe and tied
the belt firmly about her waist.

His hard mouth curved cynically. 'Disappointed, then?'

'Of course she's not disappointed,' Sally chimed in
unexpectedly, and then, to Laura's mortification, she added, 'Aunty
Laura has been wishing you were here just as much as I have. She said
so this afternoon.'

'Did she now?' Anton remarked softly, and Laura felt
herself go redder still beneath his gaze.

'You may kiss each other, if you like,' Sally announced,
increasing Laura's embarrassment as she added with childish
reassurance, 'I won't mind.'

Laura wished at that moment that she could dig herself
into the earth like a sand crab, never to come out again, but somehow
she remained standing, her head held high, her cheeks flaming.

'I think not, young Sally,' Anton observed with a wry
smile. 'Laura is shy.'

'You're not shy, are you, Aunty Laura?'

Laura stared down into those questioning brown eyes and
changed the subject firmly. 'I think it's time for us to get out of
these wet things and into something warmer.'