A Wedding in Africa (The Africa Series) (9 page)

‘So this guy - this Mortimer Schutte – he’s your boss, is he? I thought your father owned Style Concepts.’

 

‘He does, but Mortimer’s his number two.’

‘Second in command? Over you? Jasper Van der Zyl made that jerk, Mortimer Schutte, his number two, over you? His own daughter? So, let me get this straight - effectively, Schutte is your boss? Am I right?’

Lacey blushed to the roots of her hair and looked away. ‘Technically, yes. But it won’t be for long. You see, Tate, Mortimer’s not only my boss, he’s also my fiancé.’

‘Your fiancé? Hell no! That can’t be right. The guy’s a Class A jerk!’ Lacey didn’t respond.

‘So, you and this guy Schutte, you’re… engaged to be married?
He’s
your fiancé?’

 

Lacey nodded.

‘But he’s nothing like you. I mean, he’s not the kind of guy I imagined someone like you would even
like
, let alone want to marry.’ Tate was shocked. He couldn’t believe that Lacey could have fallen in love with a man like Mortimer Schutte. But then, what the hell did he know about the real Lacey Van der Zyl? Nothing! Zip! And yet he’d let her into his life – into his heart, if the truth be known. Offered to share a small part of the truth with her.

How crazy was that?

But then, maybe she was a smarter reporter than she pretended to be. She certainly knew how to wheedle the truth out of people - win their trust so that they’d open up and reveal all their secrets. It was patently obvious that there was a hidden agenda here. And Tate knew for a fact that it involved Themba - no doubt about it.

Lacey Van der Zyl was one smart cookie, he’d have to give her that. She’d certainly managed to hoodwink him for a while. Well, all that was going to change right now. There was no way on earth that he was going to let anyone capitalise on the private lives of people he loved and the home he treasured. No way at all.

Biting back his anger, he stood up. Kaya and Jabu immediately stirred and sat up, watching him intently, ready and waiting to follow their beloved master wherever he went.

‘Look, Lacey, I’m really sorry about that,’ Tate’s innate good manners kicked in and he immediately regretted his outburst. ‘I didn’t mean to badmouth your fiancé. I was out of order - big time. I’m sure he’s a very nice guy - once you get to know him.’

He expected her to leap to Mortimer’s defence, but, to his amazement, she simply looked away and swallowed the lump in her throat. Tate was confused. Surely he hadn’t been that rude about the guy? Had he? And, even if he had, he’d apologised straight away. Surely, the Lacey he knew – or thought he knew - would have seized the opportunity to put the record straight if she thought he was in the wrong. That was one of the things he admired most about her – she actually cared about people and was always willing to defend anyone against a perceived injustice.

So why didn’t she have one word to say in defence of the man she loved? It was all a bit puzzling and Tate couldn’t work it out.

‘I’m going to have to get going,’ He said at last, interrupting the uncomfortable silence that hung in the air between them. ‘Lacey - I hope I haven’t upset you with what I said about your fiancé. I really wouldn’t want to hurt you in any way. I guess I just shot my mouth off without stopping to think. Besides, I don’t even know the guy. He’s probably a decent bloke. And, anyway, it’s none of my damn business what he’s like. As long as you say he’s okay, that should be good enough for me. You’re a great judge of character, Lacey. And besides … I guess I haven’t got to marry the guy!’

With that, Tate turned and walked away, his faithful hounds following close at his heels. He walked quickly, purposefully, with that long, easy stride of his. Although Lacey hated to admit it, there was something about Tate Maddox that seemed to fill the very air itself. He had such presence. Such personal magnetism that, when he was gone, he left a huge, empty void behind.

Lacey sat with her elbows on her knees, holding her head in her hands. She felt ashamed. She knew exactly the kind of impression that Mortimer would make on a man like Tate Maddox. He would appear selfish, vain and greedy. A man who would stop at nothing to fulfil his ambitions.

And this was the man that Tate believed she’d actually fallen in love with –
chosen
to marry! What did that say about her choice in men? In people? She shuddered to think what Tate must be thinking of her now. Did he think she shared Mortimer’s values; admired them even? Heaven forbid that she should be judged according to the questionable integrity of a man like Mortimer.

But then, she told herself sternly, why did she even care what Tate Maddox thought of her? He was nothing to her. Nothing at all. Within days she’d be gone from Matshana. Gone from Tate’s life. And she’d never have to see him again.

So why did that thought fill her with sadness instead of relief? Why did her eyes fill with tears again?

 

What the hell was happening to her?

And why, oh why was she thinking such horrible things about Mortimer? He was her fiancé for heaven’s sake. He didn’t deserve this. She couldn’t even bring herself to defend him when someone was openly criticising him. What did that say about her love and loyalty? And, more importantly, what did it say about their relationship?

Right from the start, Lacey had known that she had nothing to gain from examining her true feelings about this match too closely. She knew that this was something she had to do for her father’s sake - to make amends for what she’d done to him. And questioning that selfless decision wasn’t going to help matters at all. She’d made her bed, as the saying went. Now, she was just going to have to lie on it.

CHAPTER SIX

The following day, Tate was talking to Tilly Du Preez on the phone as Lacey passed by on her way to the swimming pool for her afternoon dip. He was laughing with Tilly, teasing her about some private, shared joke. Lacey noticed how his white, even teeth gleamed when he laughed and made him look even more handsome – if that were humanly possible!

He winked at her as she went by and even that small, innocent gesture made her heart flutter. He was just being friendly, she told herself sternly. His manners were polished to perfection and there was no way that he’d have ignored her presence – even though he must now seriously question her judgement.

So why did that friendly wink make her feel all weak and girlish? And, more worryingly, why did Tate’s animated conversation with Tilly make her feel … what exactly? Jealous? Surely not! Surely even she couldn’t be that foolish?

Blushing furiously, she hurried past, wrapping the Egyptian cotton towel around her as she went. She’d already changed for her swim and was wearing nothing more than a swimsuit and a pair of flip-flops. Hardly the sort of attire that would help her retain any sense of dignity!

Outside, the African sun blazed against the cloudless sky. Lacey breathed in the fresh air and closed her eyes for a moment. All was still – even the birds had decided to take time out to laze in the afternoon sun. Jabu and Kaya lounged on the veranda, legs still tangled from an earlier scrap that had left them both exhausted. Kaya cocked an eyebrow as Lacey crept past, but decided that it was just too hot to rouse herself to get up and follow.

Down at the pool, Lacey flung her towel on the sun-lounger and dived into the sparkling water. With gently, easy strokes, she swam up to the waterfall that was cascading over the smooth granite stones. Once there, she stood up and let the water trickle down her back. Once again, she closed her eyes, stretched her arms behind her head and drank in the magic that was Matshana.

And that was precisely the picture that greeted Tate as he wandered down to the pool to join her. The sight of her standing there stopped him dead in his tracks and he felt his stomach muscles contract so tightly it was almost painful.

She stood with her back to the waterfall as it flowed over her body. That cute little swimsuit, with its sweetheart neckline, clung wetly to her curves. Her large, full breasts filled the cups to perfection, allowing just a hint of a creamy swell to spill over the top - and drive a man wild! She went in and out in all the right places, and that blasted swimsuit made damn sure he was well aware of that fact. God, what wouldn’t he give to encircle her hour-glass waist with his hands and draw her body close to his; to feel her shape flattened against his hard chest and smell the sweet perfume in her hair?

But no! This was crazy stuff. He was acting like a man possessed. But maybe that’s exactly what had happened. She’d ensnared him, filled his nights with dreams and troubled his waking hours with images of loveliness he never really knew existed.

Hell, this woman was trouble for sure. But hadn’t he had his fill of trouble?

Either way, it didn’t really matter. She was in love with another man. Mortimer Schutte for God’s sake! A prize jerk! Okay, Tate knew he’d been wrong to come down on her fiancé like he did yesterday, but one thing he did know for sure was that guys like Mortimer Schutte were jerks. End of story!

He’d met dozens of them in the boardrooms of big corporations around the world. They were all the same. Driven by money and power and status. People who wouldn’t recognise integrity and compassion if they stood up and hit them in the face. Tate accepted that he had to do business with people like that. But he sure as hell didn’t have to like them!

And as for Lacey, the mere thought of that gorgeous creature tied to a man like Schutte for the rest of her life made his blood boil. Surely she must know that she deserved better than that? Or did she actually
like
the guy?
Love
him, even? She must do if she was planning to marry him. And if that was the kind of person she admired, then what the hell was he doing bothering about her. She was from a different world. A world he knew, and sometimes had to work in, but a world he privately scorned.

For Tate Maddox, Africa was his world - Matshana his home. And that was all that really mattered.

 

‘Tate!’ Lacey called out to him across the pool. ‘Hi! Are you coming in?’

 

Tate shook his head. ‘Got things to do, but I’ve got a few minutes to take a break and grab a beer. Want one?’

‘You bet!’ Lacey swam over to him and pulled herself out of the water, dripping wet. Tate handed her the towel, biting his lip with the effort of avoiding the sight of those sleek curves.

‘Thanks. That swim was heavenly. The water’s so warm.’

Tate sat on the end of the sun lounger and levered the top off her bottle of beer by using his own bottle top. Lacey’s bottle top flew off and he grinned with boyish pride.

Lacey giggled. ‘Very impressive. Where did you learn to do that trick?’ ‘At school. Neat, huh?’

Lacey took the ice-cold bottle and tipped her head back as she took a gulp. ‘Very neat. You’ll have to show me how to do it so I can impress everyone back in Cape Town. Gosh, this beer is divine. I needed a drink!’

Tate took a quick slug of his own beer and placed it on the ground next to his feet. He sat with his knees apart, elbows resting casually on them as he watched Lacey dry her hair with the towel. ‘You’re a strong swimmer,’ he said, steering the conversation well away from his own heated emotions.

‘Our house in Cape Town is practically on the beach. I get to swim every day when the currents aren’t too strong. That’s what’s so nice about a pool, though. No fierce currents. No man-eating sharks.’

‘Well, we once had a couple of dopey ridgebacks fall into the pool in the middle of a scuffle. Lots of splashing and barking and scrabbling to get out. Very ungainly. Not that those two are noted for their finesse. A right pair of scruffy mutts they make, but they do like a good swim. I usually take them down to the Sabie River where they can splash about all they like. It’s great down there. Nice and quiet. It’s my favourite place. I need to get out in the bush once in a while.’

Lacey wrapped the towel around her shoulders and sat on the lounger opposite. ‘I know exactly what you mean. I call it the
real
Africa. Do you know, Tate, I love this country so much. I don’t think I could ever leave Africa for any length of time.’

‘Me neither. I was born and raised here. This is my home. Wild horses wouldn’t drag me away.’

Lacey couldn’t tear her eyes away from his face as his gaze travelled across the land that he loved. She knew exactly what he was thinking, because that’s how she felt about Africa. People often teased her about her passion for the land of her birth, but now, suddenly, out here in the beautiful Sabie Valley, she’d actually met another person who shared that passion. Someone who understood her feelings for Africa. And the thought made her feel all warm inside. And happy? Yes - for the first time in a very long time, Lacey actually remembered what it felt like to be happy.

‘Cape Town’s a lovely city, though,’ Tate mused. ‘I travel down there quite a lot.’

 

‘Yes, I love Cape Town. It’s so clean and chic and vibrant. I like it better than Johannesburg.’

 

‘Me too. I reckon Jo’burg lacks the charm of Cape Town.’

Lacey spread the towel out on the sun lounger and swung her legs on to it. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Tate noticed how smooth and tanned her legs were - and how shapely. She really was a good-looking woman. No-one could argue with that.

‘Even though I love Cape Town city, I must admit that I’m glad we live outside, close to the ocean. I was brought up to the sounds of the surf rolling over the sands. I don’t think I could live too far away from water.’

‘Same here. I wouldn’t fancy living right in the heart of the city. It’s good that you live outside the centre.’

‘Not for long, though.’ Lacey’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Why’s that?’

‘Mortimer wants us to live in town. He says it’ll be easier for him to get in and out each day.’

Mortimer! For one minute there, Tate had almost forgotten that he was talking to a woman who was engaged to be married. As if to remind himself of that fact, he glanced at the third finger of her left hand where three huge De Beers diamonds glittered in the sun. Not the kind of ring he’d have chosen, perhaps, but she must like it. It was hardly likely that Mortimer Schutte would pick a ring his fiancée
didn’t
like.