No Greater Joy (9 page)

'I really have missed you,' he told her.

Stupid, treacherous heart, that it should leap at the words.

Voice firm, she said, 'We were going to talk.'

'All I want is to make love to you.'

Her hand jerked in his, but when she tried to pull away from him, he threaded his fingers through hers.

'You did say we'd talk,' Alison accused through lips that were suddenly dry. 'Was that just an excuse you invented to get me alone?'

He was so close to her that she could actually feel his laughter. 'Partly.' And then, more seriously, 'Yes, I do know we have to talk.'

Trying very hard to ignore the unsettling sensations his closeness was provoking inside her, Alison said, 'Why didn't you stand up for me this afternoon?'

'I couldn't do that—I hoped you'd understand.'

'No, Clint, I didn't! I still don't.' She turned her head, trying to see his eyes in the darkness. 'Why would it have been so wrong for me to carry Timmy's case? You read his files, you know what he's been through.'

'Yes, I know.'

'Then why?'

'I couldn't go against Virginia.'

She was suddenly very angry. 'Why not?'

'Because she's tire camp director, and it would have been bad for camp morale.'

'But Virginia was wrong, Clint. That case was too heavy for Timmy.'

'I agree,' he said. 'She was wrong.'

'Then why didn't you say so? Because she's beautiful and sophisticated?'

Clint was quiet for just a moment. Then he said, 'I just told you—because she's the camp director. I know you don't think that's reason enough, Alison, but it is. Virginia runs this camp for me. She was wrong about Timmy, but she's generally good at what she does, and as much as I can I have to let her make decisions. You have to understand, Alison—I can't be here all the time. I'm involved with the hotels, sometimes I have to be away for weeks at a time. I depend on Virginia to keep things going without me.'

'But in this one instance, couldn't you have disagreed with her?'

'If it were just a case of one instance, but it isn't. There are times when I don't agree with Virginia—her handling of Timmy, for example—but I can't undermine her authority. Especially not in front of others. If I did, the camp would soon become a shambles.'

'I see,' she said, subdued. And then, 'Do you go away very often?'

'Often enough.'

I'll miss you. The thought was as shocking as it was involuntary.

For a while they walked in silence. It was very beautiful in the mountains at night. The air was cool and spicy with the scent of wild mimosa. Only a slim crescent moon hung in the sky, but a million stars shed enough light for Clint and Alison to see where they were going.Against the starry sky the mountains were bulky, ebony shapes.

The path was narrow, and their linked hands brought them close together, so that their bodies touched as they walked.

'Why did you go to Timmy's cabin, Clint?' Alison asked at length.

'Same reason you did—to see if Timmy was OK.'

'You realised he'd be unhappy?'

'I thought he might be.'

Alison was silent a moment. Then she asked, 'How long had you been there when I saw you?'

'Long enough. I saw the way you comforted Timmy.'

She was caught by something in his voice. 'Anyone would have done it.'

'You'll make a wonderful mother some day, Alison,' he said quietly.

She tensed. 'I'll never be a mother.'

'You don't know that.'

'I do!' she said brittly. 'You know how I feel about men. I'll never get married.'

'You might change your mind.' It was said so oddly, that her heart pounded suddenly in her chest.

'I'll never change it,' she said, very firmly indeed.

Clint stopped and turned to her. He was still holding her hand, and now his other hand went to her face, the long fingers tracing a slow path around her lips.

'I told you once before that "never" is a word I don't have in my vocabulary.' His voice was low and seductive.

Her heart was pounding so hard now that she felt sure he must hear it. 'It's time to go back.' She was trembling.

He laughed softly, inflaming emotions that were already raw. 'In a moment.'

'No—I want to go now,' she whispered.

But his arms went around her, quite gently, as if he was determined not to frighten her. For a long moment he held her trembling body against him. One hand went to her hair, his fingers stroking it, threading through it, before coming to rest on the nape of her neck. She could feel his long body against hers, his shoulders and his chest and his thighs, so hard and strong that she became very conscious of her own soft femininity.

A minute passed, and then his hand moved to her throat, to her chin, tilted her head. Dimly, Alison understood that she should be pushing him away, but her brain seemed totally incapable of sending the correct messages to her body. There were feelings flooding her, sensations that were quite unlike anything she had ever experienced, so that she couldn't have pushed him away if she had tried—which she didn't.

His head came down then, and he was kissing her. Unlike the kiss in the swimming pool, this kiss made no demands. It was a tender kiss, yet so tantalisingly sweet that it was, in its way, almost more erotic than if it had been passionate.

Something primeval and utterly primitive stirred deep inside Alison, so that she yearned to put her arms around Clint's neck and bring him closer to her, to return his kisses with all the intensity that was in her. Her hands reached for his shoulders, and just for a moment her fingers gripped his shirt.

And then, miraculously, she realised what was happening to her. Her hands dropped to his chest, clenched, and now she was trying to push herself away from him.

'No...' she protested.

He lifted his head to look down at her. 'Let yourself enjoy it,' he said huskily.

'No! Oh, God, you shouldn't have started this, Clint. You had no right to!'

'Why not? You were never in love with Raymond, you know that now.'

'Maybe not.' Her lips were shaking, and there were tears in her throat.

'Then let me kiss you.'

He drew her towards him again, and now his kisses were more passionate. His tongue was at her lips, tracing the shape of them, trying to push them apart. A part of Alison wanted nothing more than to respond to him. But it was the very fierceness of her longing that gave her the strength to resist him this time.

Clint took a step back as she pushed against him. 'This is silly, Alison.'

'No, it's not! Don't you understand yet, Clint? This isn't for me.'

'You're wrong.' His breathing was ragged. 'There's warmth and passion in you, Alison. I've seen the way you ride the horses, the way you were with Timmy. You've so much life in you, so much to give.'

'Not as far as sex is concerned!'

'You only think so because you've been hurt.'

'And I don't intend to be hurt again. I want to go back tc> camp. Please!'

But he was still holding her. 'It was just a kiss, Alison.'

Her legs were still weak from that kiss, and deep inside her was the aching longing that had not grown less for all her brave words.

She twisted out of his arms. 'Let's go.'

'Don't turn your back on life, Alison.'

She made herself look up at him. 'I'm only turning my back on the kind of life
you
seem to think is right for me. I'll be totally happy running my own stables, Clint, doing the things I want to do. I don't
need
men in my life.'

'What about love?'

'That's an illusion.' Her voice was short.

'And the joy of human contact?'

Her body throbbed with the need to be touched by him—to be held in his arms, to kiss and be kissed. She wanted him so much that her trembling body felt on fire.

It was very hard to conceal her trembling. 'I don't need it,' she insisted.

Clint stroked her cheek, and she had to summon all her strength not to go back in to his arms. 'You're wrong. Everyone needs it, Alison. For a long time after Linda died I thought differently, but eventually I understood that I was wrong.'

She looked away from him. 'I must be different.'

'I don't believe that. I felt you respond—I know I didn't imagine it. I believe that for a moment you really wanted to take things further.'

Alison was badly rattled now. 'You really are dead wrong!' she flung at him. 'I'm going back to camp, Clint. Are you coming with me, or do I go alone?'

They walked down the path together—silently now, for there was nothing left to talk about.

The lights of the camp grounds were in sight when Clint slowed his step.

'I'm not giving up on you, Alison. I won't rush you, I promise. When you're ready, you'll let me make love to you.'

'You'll wait a long time,' she said tensely.

'I'll wait until you're ready.' And this time there was a smile in his voice.

Two days later, Clint was called away to clear up a problem at one of the hotels. Alison told herself she was relieved he was gone.

Life at Bushveld Camp had settled into a pleasant routine. Alison spent most of her day with the horses. In the mornings she led the older campers on trail-rides through the foothills. In the afternoons the younger children would come to the paddock. They were not ready for trail-riding, but Alison taught them a little about horses, and let them ride, one at a time, along an easy path, while she walked beside the horse and held the rein.

Timmy was at the stables whenever he could get away from his other activities—which annoyed Virginia, who felt he should be swimming or canoeing or playing volleyball with the other children in his group. But, after the first day, Alison quietly went her own way. Timmy was still feeling unsettled, and Alison was the one person with whom he felt comfortable. And so she allowed the little boy to help her groom the horses, and she gave him more than his share of rides.

Timmy was denied only one pleasure. More than anything he wanted to go on a trail-ride, but on this point Virginia was adamant. Timmy was too young, his group did not participate in trail-riding. That was that.

Evenings were fun. After the
braaivleis
there was almost always a camp-fire. Mary, who had indeed become Alison's closest friend at Bushveld, would bring out her guitar, and while marshmallows sizzled on the flames, children and counsellors joined in a sing-song.

Alison's only irritant was Virginia; she liked the camp director even less now than on the first day. Now and then she wondered why it was that she wanted to strangle Virginia every time she saw her. And yet the only reason that presented itself was one she could not—would not— accept.

She tried very hard to stay out of Virginia's way, and when that was not possible she made it a point to be sweetly reasonable with her. She made it a point never to clash with her.

And yet clash they eventually did.

Timmy's parents had arranged to send him a tuckbox. Alison, who was in charge of mail the day it arrived, gave it to him. Timmy's eyes glowed, his little face was radiant when he realised from whom the present had come. Over and over he ran his hands over the box, his whole being alive with a happiness which Alison had not seen in him since the day he had arrived at camp. He walked away, still holding the unopened box.

About half an hour later there was the sound of a scuffle in Timmy's cabin. Alison took no notice at first, but when she heard screaming she hurried to investigate. For a moment she stood quite still in the doorway. The floor was a mass of squirming, noisy bodies, so that for the first few seconds she was not sure what was happening.

And then she saw Timmy, in the centre of the trouble— a frantic Timmy, eyes wild, one fist flying, the other hand trying hard to hold something to his body while another child tried to snatch it away, and yet another was pummelling his head.

Alison, always protective of Timmy, dived into the fray without thinking. All she knew was that Timmy was in a situation which he could not handle alone.

'Leave him alone!' she yelled, pulling the boys away from Timmy. 'Leave him, you little bullies!'

Startled faces jerked around as two boys found themselves in her grip. They were trying to wriggle away from her when someone demanded, 'What's the reason for this disorderliness?'

Virginia had entered the scene. Immaculate as always, her expression one of cool distaste—an expression that seemed directed solely at Alison.

Bit by bit, tojd in excited voices, the story unfolded. Timmy's cabin-mates had found him opening his tuckbox. They'd wanted a Share, and Timmy had refused. He wanted to keep the box intact a while before making a start on it, he said. So they had decided to take what they wanted by force.

'I want to see you in my office,' Virginia said to Alison when order was at last restored.

One look at the camp director's face was sufficient to tell Alison that she was in for a lecture. And a lecture was what she received.

'This cannot go on.' Virginia crossed one elegant safari-suited leg across the other.

Alison stared at her. Her face was still flushed from the fracas, and there was heat in her veins. Sweet reasonableness was forgotten as she faced the woman she disliked.

'Youjre angry because it was Timmy I stood up for,' she accused.

'If you recognise the problem, then let's hope you're half-way to solving it.'

Virginia's cool tone provoked Alison to an anger she could not control. 'I don't have a problem,' she retorted.

'I disagree. If you've worked with children—as you say you have—then you must know that they have arguments. You'd also know that they should settle them among themselves.'

'Do you really think one little boy can defend himself against five?'

'If he can't, he must learn to. I told you from the start, Alison, that Timmy was to be treated like any other camper.'

'But he's not just any other camper,' Alison countered heatedly. 'He's a little boy who's been through a terrible trauma. He's worried half to death about his parents.'

'Do you think I don't know that? I still say that his best chance for recovery is to be treated normally. Besides'—Virginia paused deliberately—'in a way, what happened was Timmy's own fault. He should have shared his tuck with his friends.'