Season of Shadows (7 page)

Sally wiped the traces of milk from her mouth with the
back of her hand, which further annoyed him, then her dark gaze went
from Anton to Laura and back again as she remarked with astonishing
shrewdness, 'I suppose you want to be alone.'

'You suppose correctly,' Anton replied, his expression
forbidding any argument the child might have wished to enter into.

'Oh, well,' Sally shrugged reluctantly as she got up from
the table, and, pouting a little sulkily, she said 'Goodnight' and went
upstairs.

'Shall we go through to my study?' Anton suggested the
moment they were alone. 'We shan't be disturbed there.'

In the book-lined study with its solid oak desk, leather
chairs, and rugged stone fireplace, Laura felt as restless and uneasy
as a hare with the hounds on its tail.

'What I have to say won't take long,' Anton assured her as
he seated himself behind the desk and motioned her into a chair. 'We'll
be married here tomorrow afternoon at three with Graham and his wife,
Gina, as witnesses. They've also offered to take care of Sally while we
spend the weekend at my Gordon's Bay cottage. We'll leave immediately
after the ceremony, so have a suitcase packed and ready.'

'Do we have to go away?' Laura asked with difficulty,
staring fixedly at the zebra-skin rug beneath her feet.

'It would look odd if we didn't.'

Her fingers curled nervously into the padded armrests of
the chair. 'Anton, I…'

Her throat dried up with fear. She tried again, but no
sound came, and he interpreted her hesitation incorrectly.

'You want to change your mind?' he questioned her coldly.
'They say it's a woman's prerogative, but I call it fanciful
unreliability. No woman can be trusted, or relied upon to keep her
word.'

His cynicism moved her to an anger which loosened her
tongue, and, rising jerkily to her feet, she said stiffly, 'It wasn't
my intention to back out of our arrangement.'

He followed her example and rose to his feet, his height
placing her at a distinct disadvantage once again as he asked, 'Wasn't
it?'

'No, it was not!' she argued hotly.

'Then let me guess,' he mocked her derisively. 'Like most
women, you have expensive tastes, and you're disappointed at not having
a white wedding with a lavish reception as you may have visualised. Is
that it?'

'No!' she insisted sharply, but when she saw no glimmer of
understanding in his coldly cynical glance, she turned away
exasperatedly. 'Oh, you wouldn't understand!'

There was a tense little silence, then she felt him coming
up behind her. 'Explain yourself.'

For a moment she could not speak as his nearness set every
nerve in her body vibrating inexplicably, then she said dully,
'I—I think every girl dreams secretly of her wedding day. I
imagined I would one day marry someone who would care for me as much as
I cared for him, but instead I find myself marrying for coldbloodedly
calculated reasons.' She shuddered inwardly. 'It all seems so wrong!'
His hands were on her shoulders, firm, strong, and relentless as he
turned her to face him, but she could not raise her eyes higher than
the knot in his grey tie.

'Our reasons for marrying each other may be calculated,
but there's no reason for it to be coldblooded.' His arm was about her
waist, a steel band imprisoning her against the hard length of his body
and, startled by the unexpected swiftness of his actions, she stood
helpless as he raised her face with his free hand and kissed her hard
on the mouth. Resentment flared within her, but Anton seemed to
anticipate her struggles, for his hand shifted its position to the nape
of her neck, while his arm about her waist merely tightened like a
vice. Her body grew taut with resistance, but he was obviously a man of
experience, for he finally drew a response from her that left her
trembling and breathless when she was at last released. 'See what I
mean?' he smiled down at her mockingly.

Flushed and ashamed of the emotions he had aroused in her,
she asked coldly, 'May I go now, or was there something else you wanted
to discuss with me?' He inclined his head slightly. 'You may go.' . She
felt his eyes boring into her back as she walked towards the door, and
the hard, frantic beat of her heart did not subside until a few seconds
later when she was crossing the hall towards the stairs.

The door between her bedroom and Sally's stood open, and
when Laura approached it, the bedside light in Sally's room was snapped
on.

'You should have been asleep ages ago,' Laura rebuked her
gently, going into the room and seating herself on the bed beside the
child.

'I'm too excited,' Sally announced, sitting up and hugging
her knees.

'Excited?' Laura frowned.

'About tomorrow,' Sally explained, surprising Laura with
her knowledge of the arrangements Anton had made. Those dark eyes
glowed into Laura's as she asked, 'Aren't you excited, too?'

'Oh, Sally—' she began, but she felt so
ridiculously close to tears that she choked back the rest of her
sentence. 'What's the matter?' Sally wanted to know, the happy light in
her eyes faltering.

Laura swallowed convulsively. 'Nothing—nothing
at all.'

'You looked as though you were going to cry,' Sally insisted
suspiciously.

Laura laughed shakily. 'I think I'm a little tired.'

'And
frightened,' she could have added, but Sally would not have understood
why anyone should feel afraid on the eve of their wedding.

'I think when I get married one day I'll be so excited
that I won't be able to sleep a wink the night before,' Sally
announced, happily quite unaware that Laura was thinking similar
thoughts. She would not sleep a wink that night, but her sleeplessness
would be as a result of fear, not excitement.

'Your wedding day is still a long way off, darling, and I
pray that—'

'That what?' Sally prompted when Laura caught herself up
in the act of saying that she hoped Sally would one day marry for love,
and not out of duty.

'That you enjoy your carefree childhood while it lasts,'
Laura substituted hastily, lifting the sheets for Sally to slide under,
and tucking her in carefully before she dropped a light kiss on her
cheek. 'Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep well.'

She snapped off the light and returned to her own room,
closing the interleading door so she would not disturb Sally while she
bathed and prepared for bed.

The night was long and dark, and filled with frightening
visions of a future shared with a man who was almost a complete
stranger to her; a man who neither knew nor cared one iota for her
feelings. After tomorrow's ceremony she would be his to do with as he
pleased, and the thought filled her with such dread that she almost
cried out into the darkness. She had had a brief taste of his mastery
that evening; a mastery which had, admittedly, stirred her emotions,
but which had also succeeded in making her aware of that streak of
cruelty in him which had frightened her so often during their brief
meetings in the past. He would take, giving nothing in return, and
that, she felt certain, would be the basis of their marriage.

It was these disturbing thoughts that kept her awake until
she could see the dawn sky through the lace at her window, then
exhaustion claimed her, and she slept until Jemima woke her with a tray
of breakfast shortly after eight.

'This is a happy day for us all, Miss Laura,' Jemima
announced, her starched white apron crackling as she approached the bed
and placed the tray on Laura's knees. 'I speak for everyone when I say
that we wish you and Mr Anton happiness.'

'Thank you, Jemima,' Laura smiled, but, as the door closed
behind the Coloured woman, she wondered what happiness she could expect
from a marriage perpetrated for the sole purpose of providing a home
for her young niece.

The hours passed with alarming swiftness that morning.
There was last-minute shopping to be done, and a wedding ring to
select, and, through it all, Anton remained a remote, uncommunicative
stranger in whose company she felt dreadfully ill at ease.

That afternoon, with time to spare before she went
downstairs, Laura stared at herself in the mirror and decided that she
neither looked nor felt anything' remotely like a bride ought to on her
wedding day. Her narrow-skirted dress with the lacy top was a rich,
creamy colour instead of white, and, instead of joyous anticipation,
there was fear and apprehension in the deep blue eyes that stared back
at her.

A sharp tap on her door made her jump nervously, and she
turned to face the door warily as it was pushed open a fraction.

'May I come in?' a bright, feminine voice enquired, and
then, without waiting for a reply, a tall, attractive woman with dark,
greying hair entered the room and closed the door firmly behind her.
Her appraising glance took in Laura's confusion, and then she smiled
with a warmth that melted some of the icy dread surrounding Laura's
heart. 'We haven't met before,' she explained. 'I'm Georgina Abbot. My
friends call me Gina, and my enemies dare to call me George.'

She wrinkled her nose in comical distaste, and Laura
laughed for the first time in days. 'I'm certain you haven't any
enemies.'

'You'd be surprised,' Gina remarked with a slight grimace,
then she explained the reason for her presence in Laura's room. 'A girl
shouldn't be alone at a time like this,' she stated emphatically, 'and
while the men are indulging in those filthy cigars Graham always
insists upon smoking, I thought that I would come up and keep you
company.' There was a faint glimmer of uncertainty in the direct gaze
of her green eyes as she asked, 'You don't mind, do you?'

'I don't mind at all,' Laura assured her at once, grateful
for the presence of someone to talk to, but then a more pressing
thought came to mind. 'Do you know where Sally is?'

'She's downstairs waiting anxiously to see you, but Anton
has promised that she could come up and call you as soon as Mr Fuller
has arrived.' Gina's critical glance took in Laura's appearance from
her honey-brown hair, coiled in its usual knot at the nape of her neck,
down to her cream and tan shoes. 'You look lovely, my dear,' she smiled
warmly. 'Really lovely.'

'Thank you,' Laura smiled back nervously.

'Laura…' Gina hesitated, then a look of
determination
flashed across her otherwise serene face. 'Do you mind if I
sit down?'

'Please do,' Laura said hastily, drawing up a chair for
Gina, and seating herself on the dressing-table stool.

'Laura, I know why you're marrying Anton,' Gina said now
without hesitation, ignoring Laura's faint gasp of surprised as she
continued. 'It couldn't have been an easy decision to make, but I
admire you for it.' She leaned forward in her chair with a hint of
urgency in her manner. 'Anton may be a hard man in many ways, and often
quite ruthless when necessary, but he's also a man of great integrity.
If you find him cynical about many things, most especially women, then
you must forgive him, my dear. He was hurt very badly once, and he's
never quite regained his faith in women.'

Laura stared at Gina for a moment, finding it difficult to
believe that Anton DeVere had ever given his heart to a woman. She was
only too aware that he possessed a virile masculinity and a sensuality
of movement that would attract most women, and, according to the
newspapers, there had been many women in his life, but none of them had
remained long enough over the years for Laura to recall their names,
let alone their appearances. Which one of those beauties, she wondered
cynically, had succeeded in penetrating deep enough beneath that hard
veneer to hurt him so badly?

'Why are you telling me this?' Laura asked curiously.

'Well… firstly, because I happen to be fond of
Anton, and I'd like to see this marriage succeed. Secondly, because the
success of this marriage will depend largely on your patience and
understanding, and thirdly,' she smiled humorously, 'because I think
I'm going to enjoy having you as a friend and neighbour.'

A knock on the door ended their conversation abruptly, and
an anxious little voice cried out, 'Aunty Laura, are you there?'

'Come in, Sally.'

The door was flung open and Sally almost stumbled into the
room in her excitement, the pink, frilly dress enhancing the darkness
of her eyes, and the sheen of- her almost black hair hanging in two
neat plaits down her back.

'Oh, you look beautiful!' she sighed, her eager glance
taking in Laura's appearance, and then, remembering the purpose of her
errand, she said excitedly, 'Uncle Anton says you may come down
whenever you're ready. Mr Fuller has arrived and he's waiting
downstairs.'

Laura nodded, her throat suddenly too dry to speak.

'We'll be down in a minute,' Gina intervened hurriedly,
ushering the child from the room and returning swiftly to Laura's side.

'Gina!' Laura cried out her name in a moment of panic,
gripping the hands extended towards her as if they offered safety from
a danger as yet unknown.

'Courage, Laura, courage,' Gina whispered softly, her
fingers tightening about Laura's, then she turned towards the door.
'Come down as soon as you're ready.'

Courage
. She had never lacked courage
before, Laura thought as the door closed behind Gina's slim, elegant
figure in the blue and white suit. She had never before lacked the
courage to face up to her convictions, but at this precise moment she
felt the cowardly desire to run, and never to stop running until she
was safe somewhere where Anton would never find her. This was the
supreme test of her courage, she realised, and taking a deep, steadying
breath, she cast a final critical glance at herself in the mirror
before leaving her room and going downstairs.

In the living-room the Reverend Mr Fuller, Anton, and
Graham and Gina Abbot awaited her arrival, and they turned to face her
when she entered. 'Oh, God, what am I doing here?' she thought in a
moment of blind panic as she paused just inside the doorway, and then
she saw Sally, her eyes bright with excitement in her glowing, happy
face. She had to go through with it for Sally's sake, she realised
grimly, and she could only pray that she would find the courage to face
what lay before her.