Moonflower (13 page)

Sometimes
she’d catch herself, realise her gaze followed him and then he
would stop, turn to look at her and it would take all her willpower
to keep a smile from touching her lips. The sound of his laughter
had the power to cause her to lose her train of thought completely
and, all the while, Sophie knew the last thing she wanted was for
anyone to know there was something between them.

Particularly with Clarice’s eyes so often on Reuben, and her
vigilance whenever he came within a metre of Sophie, which is what
he’d done just that minute. Reaching past her to place his empty
glass on a table, his arm brushing her waist, lingering there so it
felt as if he’d dropped an effervescent tablet into her bloodstream
that fizzed and bubbled all the way to the tips of her fingers and
the roots of her hair.

‘
I said, I like a girl who knows how to handle a big piece,’
McTavish said loudly, winking at Sophie, his speech giving away the
first signs of drunkenness.

Sophie
bit back the retort on the tip of her tongue. She’d been dying to
give this man a piece of her mind, but here, tonight, she was not a
guest. She was a professional, a paid employee, so she held
back.

Reuben
had moved closer to Sophie. She looked up and saw the stirrings of
anger in his eyes; a small tick along his jaw.

‘
I think dinner’s just about ready,’ Sophie said, heading out
of harm’s way to the centre of the
boma
where Sipho stood beside the chef
at the spit. The smile faded from her lips as she reached Sipho and
turned to find McTavish leering at her backside, Reuben staring
into her eyes with heart-pounding intensity and Clarice perched on
the arm of a chair, gaze travelling from both men to
Sophie.

Reuben’s
brother was watching the whole lot of them, grinning ear-to-ear,
while Sophie felt like a buck caught in the headlights.

Outwardly
the evening had gone well for Reuben. His guests were still
enthusing about the bush walk, the delicious meal and the canopy of
stars few of these city-dwellers had ever experienced in such
intensity before. But inwardly Reuben was feeling the
strain.

McTavish
wouldn’t leave Sophie alone. He’d had too much to drink, and when
most of the guests had been driven back to the house by Isaac and
Sipho, the man showed no sign of letting up.

What
added additional fuel to Reuben’s anger was that he could see that
Sophie was making an enormous effort to handle the situation
diplomatically. She’d either ignored the drunken man’s comments or
made light of them, but he saw the flash of defiance in the green
eyes and he was painfully aware of the effort it was taking her to
continue to be polite to the man. And why the hell should she? Rich
he might be, but Sophie had more class and courtesy in her little
finger than McTavish had in his entire body.

The
others were doing nothing to help the situation, either. Clarice
looked on edge, and Mark was grinning as if he were enjoying the
whole thing. Reuben had had enough. He couldn’t put Sophie through
this anymore.

‘
Let’s get you back to the house,’ he said, taking McTavish’s
arm. But the man shrugged him off.

‘
Come now, Reuben,’ he slurred. ‘Can’t you see I’m talking to
my girlfriend here?’

Reuben
kept his voice level. ‘We’re heading out at the crack of dawn for a
game drive, so it’s time we all headed for bed.’

‘
No objections there,’ McTavish said, lurching towards Sophie.
‘That part of your job description?’ He grabbed her backside in one
big hand and squeezed.

Sophie
froze, her eyes enormous in the firelight.

Reuben stepped towards the man, wanting nothing more than to
punch that leering face, break the hand that groped Sophie.
His
Sophie.

‘
Get your hands off her, McTavish.’ Reuben spoke very quietly,
but his voice buzzed with the threat of violence.

‘
Come on, old boy,’ McTavish leered. ‘I bet you’d like a piece
yourself. She’s only the hired help, man. She’d probably enjoy a
bit of humpy.’

With the
strength of an entire evening’s frustration, Reuben grabbed
McTavish by the scruff of the neck, his other hand gripping the
front of the man’s shirt. He tore him away from Sophie, whose eyes
were wide with surprise, and began to frogmarch him towards the
remaining vehicle.

Mark and
Clarice sprang forward together. Pushing in between the two men,
Mark loosened his brother’s grip on McTavish’s shirt. ‘What the
hell’s going on with you? Take it easy,’ he said, putting a
restraining hand on Reuben’s shoulder.

‘
I will not tolerate behaviour of this sort on my farm; I don’t
care
who
he is,’
Reuben thundered.

‘
You know McTavish,’ Mark said. ‘He’s often like this. Just
laugh it off like you usually do. Don’t let him get to you like
this. The guy’s an idiot. He’s so drunk he won’t remember a thing
in the morning.’

‘
A very
rich
idiot and on the board of Consolidated Investment Group,’
Clarice said, standing beside the chair that Reuben had dropped
McTavish into. He’d passed out.

‘
It’s time someone put their foot down,’ Reuben said.
‘Humouring him like this is sick.’

‘
You’re not his moral guardian,’ Clarice said, not bothering to
disguise her irritation. ‘But he
is
an important man and,’ she looked pointedly at
Sophie, ‘his behaviour’s never bothered you before.’

‘
I will not stand by while the man paws my
employees.’

Employees
. Sophie’s stomach took a
dive.

Clarice
placed a beautifully manicured hand against Reuben’s chest. ‘Your
mother’s always said you’re unusually protective with your
possessions. Let’s just take care of this and go to bed.’ The way
she looked at up at Reuben, the seductive tone of her voice left no
one in doubt that it was meant as an invitation, to Reuben and her
bed.

‘
She’s right,’ Mark said, going over to McTavish. ‘Let’s just
get the old fart back to the house. This is doing my head
in.’

Sophie,
despite the storm of emotion that swirled inside her, insisted on
driving them back to the house. She was the only person who had had
nothing to drink. She sat alone up front, McTavish propped between
the two men and Clarice curled into Reuben’s side.

Standing
beneath a cool shower helped a little. Stories of foreign visitors
groping female rangers were commonplace; but Sophie wasn’t a
ranger, she was a conservationist with a post-graduate degree who’d
worked incredibly hard to make it the first few steps along her
career path. As essentially a field researcher, thieving baboons
were all in a day’s work, but groping guests were not something she
thought she’d have to deal with. And now that she’d experienced it,
she had no intention of repeating the performance.

With the
dust and events of the day scrubbed from her skin, she wrapped a
towel around her, tucking the ends between her breasts, her wet
hair in another, and went to the bedroom. She stopped at the bed,
looked down at the empty expanse of it, and thought she was
unlikely to get much sleep tonight. The events of the day had sent
her brain into overdrive. Images and words swirled inside her
head.

She went
to stand at the window; but the blackness outside offered nothing
to distract her from the image of Clarice’s hand on Reuben’s chest,
the invitation to his bed. Were they locked in each other’s arms
this minute? The thought caused Sophie such anguish that she sank
to the floor, wrapping her arms around her middle, eyes tightly
shut against a simple image that had the power to tear her insides
to shreds.

When a
knock came at the door, she was determined she would not be
tormented by anyone else tonight. She ignored it. But whoever was
knocking would not go away.

She
sprang to her feet, moved quickly across the room, flung open the
door, and stepped back quickly as Reuben pushed it wide so it
banged against the wall. He strode inside, kicked the door shut and
swept Sophie into his arms, holding her tightly against him, face
buried in her neck.

‘
I’m sorry, Sophie,’ he murmured. ‘So sorry.’

‘
It’s okay,’ she said, caressing his hair, delighting in the
silkiness that trickled through her fingers.

He shook
his head, rubbed his lips against the tender flesh of her neck.
Sophie shivered, clung to him.

‘
You shouldn’t have had to go through that. The man’s a
bastard.’

Why did
he want to speak about that horrible man when arousal trickled
through her body like heated, golden honey; moist and
sticky?

‘
I don’t want to talk about him,’ she said fiercely, pushing
his face away from her neck so she could find his lips. And as she
plunged her tongue into his mouth it felt like an act of
penetration. Reuben opened his mouth still wider. The hot taste of
him caused a sudden ache and spurt of moistness between her legs.
Sophie gasped and moaned; a ferocious need inside her that made her
feel entirely possessed, as if her very nature had changed to
become something wild, dangerous even.

The towel
twisted around her head fell to the floor, spilling damp tendrils
of copper over her shoulders. Reuben tangled his fingers in her
hair, kept kissing her. His lips crushing hers, but it was what she
wanted, the pressure, the savageness of it.

She began
to tear at his clothing. Reuben helped her, and when he at last
stood naked in front of her, she feasted her eyes on the largeness
of his arousal, the magnificence of the man she had fallen in love
with, and realised there was absolutely no shame in any of
it.

Her
breaths came in small sharp gasps as he pulled the towel from her
body, cupping her breasts, his thumbs rubbing her swollen nipples
until she thought she would fall in a desperate, aching heap to the
floor. All the while his gaze ran over her body, devouring every
inch of golden skin.

Sophie
placed her hands over Reuben’s, resting them lightly there for a
moment as his palms moved over her nipples. Then she moved them
along the sinews of his forearms, moving higher over defined
biceps, to his chest, where she mirrored the movements of his
thumbs on her nipples.

Air
hissed sharply through her teeth as his thumbs were replaced by
lips and tongue. Moments later, Sophie did the same; flicking her
tongue over his small, hardened nipples. Slowly he moved along her
body, missing not an inch of her, stopping only as Sophie imitated
his movements. Every action becoming deeper, quicker, more
urgent.

At some
stage, they made it to the bed, but Sophie couldn’t remember when
or how. Time no longer passed the way it usually did. The universe
had altered without warning. Her world was Reuben Manning, and it
was a place she could lose herself in without ever wanting to be
found.

Reuben
slipped behind her, his knees fitting against her long limbs. With
an arm around her, he rolled half onto his back, holding her
tightly, and entered her that way. It felt to Sophie as if every
sense, her mind and spirit too, were filled as she spread her legs
and allowed herself to be carried by his strong arms. He moved
maddeningly slowly, not thrusting, but pressing into her. His
fingers teased the small territory between her legs that was ablaze
with sensation.

Through the rolling waves of desire, Sophie came to know that
they’d been made for each other. How else could they fit so
perfectly together? Why else did they move as if one creature, not
two? And how could they know the intimate desires of the other’s
heart? Because, yes, Sophie
did
know this man. The guests in the house might know
things about him: dates, occasions, names, places. But Sophie was
convinced in that moment that only she had ever truly known Reuben
Manning’s heart.

Chapter
Eight

It was as
the sun began to rise behind the curtains that the first doubt
found its way into the sanctuary of Sophie’s cottage. Reuben slept
beside her. She should wake him so he could get back to the house
before his guests began to stir.

But, for
the first time in her life, Sophie felt paralysed with indecision
and could not see her way forward. She was utterly conflicted, with
no idea how to revolve a situation that became harder for her to
understand with every interaction she had with Reuben. Was he like
this with every woman he had sexual encounters with? Despite
Sophie’s inexperience, what they had seemed far more than just sex.
To her mind there seemed to be a cosmic connection between them,
and great tenderness.

She would
not have turned away from a single moment spent with him, but she
was beginning to fear the price she would have to pay. He had been
straightforward with her about the nature of the relationship
between them, and he had given her no indication that anything had
changed. But Sophie sensed that it had. Or were those feeling hers
alone?

Looking
at his sleeping face beside her, she was overtaken by panic. It was
she who wasn’t being truthful with him. She was in love with him;
loved him with a passion she hadn’t known existed until he’d shown
her its beautiful colours. She should tell him how she felt so he
could withdraw from the arrangement if he wanted to. The honest
thing was to wake him and tell him now so they could both move
forward. But would she have to leave Labour’s End when he told her,
with pity in his eyes, that she simply did not fit into his life
but he had appreciated the distraction? Was she ready to lose him,
and perhaps her job, at this particular moment in time?