No Greater Joy (15 page)

'I'm sorry you feel that way, because you're going to stick it out to the end.'

'You can't stop me going, Clint.' 'Perhaps not,' he agreed smoothly. 'But I can make sure that you never get another job—anywhere.'

She was shocked. 'That's blackmail!' she protested.

'Call it whatever you like.'

'If you won't accept my resignation, I'll go to Virginia.'

'It won't make any difference.'

'She's in charge of the camp. And you never go against her.' Alison said the last words sarcastically.

'We've been over that, Alison, so we don't need to discuss it again now. The fact is, in the final analysis Virginia is still answerable to me. She will not accept your resignation because I won't allow her to.'

Wordlessly, Alison looked at him. At that moment she felt totally helpless.

At length she said, 'I can't remain here, you must know that.'

'Why not?'

'Because after what happened last night I can't bear to see you. I can't even stand the thought of being in the camp at the same time as you.'

Clint's eyes were bleak, but his voice did not change. 'You won't have to worry about that.'

'I don't understand... I mean, we can't help running into each other all the time.'

'I'm leaving Bushveld myself this morning,' he told her.

'Wh... Where are you going?' Her lips were suddenly stiff.

'The hotels. Something's come up, and I'm needed.'

'How long will you be away?'

He laughed mirthlessly. 'Long enough to make you happy, Alison.'

But Clint could not know what would make her happy. At this moment, she scarcely knew herself.

'Why didn't you tell me before?' Her voice shook.

'I was going to tell you about it—among other things.' His expression was unreadable. 'When?'

'Last night, on the mountain.' Pain knifed her, sharp and agonising, but she kept her head high, not wanting Clint to know how she felt. 'Well, that's that, then, I suppose,' she said. Blindly, she turned and walked out of the cabin. She did not see the pain in Clint's eyes as he watched her go.

A
LISON
missed Clint more than she could ever have dreamed. Every day she wondered whether she would hear from him. Notwithstanding the disaster of Brian's party, there could be a letter or a phone call. But there was nothing, which seemed to confirm that Alison's feelings were purely one-sided.

While Clint was gone the camp continued to function smoothly under Virginia's direction. From counsellors to campers, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Even Timmy was happy. His face was tanned and freckled now, and he was a far cry from the pale, frightened little boy who had arrived at Bushveld that first day. He had made friends with some of the other children, but Alison was still his favourite person in the camp. He spent as much time with her as he could, helping her groom the horses, and sneaking extra rides from her when he could.

There had been a letter from Timmy's mother. She was out of the hospital, and his father would be released soon. This was wonderful news indeed, and contributed immensely to Timmy's state of mind.

There was only one thing the little boy seemed to need to make his happiness complete. He wanted to go on a trail-ride. He was becoming so obsessed with the idea that he talked of it constantly. The short rides the other children of his group enjoyed—along the shortish path, with Alison walking beside the horse and holding the rein—were not enough for him.

'Why can't I go on a trail-ride?' he wanted to know.

Alison looked up from the pony she was grooming and laughed. 'Now, how many times have you asked me that question?'

'But why can't I, Alison?'

'Because trail-riding is not for your group, Timmy. You know that.'

'I want to go so badly, Alison. I can ride better than the other kids.'

'That's true,' she agreed.

'Then why?'

'It's the rule.'

'But it's not fair! I can ride, Alison, you know I can.'

Alison did know it. She remembered herself at Timmy's age, galloping over the veld with her father. The hours on her horse had been among the happiest ones of her growing-up years.

Timmy had spent more time with the horses than the sixteen-year-olds. He loved horses dearly, and understood them. A trail-ride would remain in his memory as the highlight of camp.

But Virginia had made herself clear on the subject. Timmy was ten years old, and at Bushveld Camp ten- year-olds did not go on trail-rides.

Privately, Alison agreed with Timmy that Virginia's rule was not fair. A child's ability to cope with a longer ride should be the only factor in deciding who could participate, not the child's age. But she did not undermine Virginia's authority by telling Timmy that.

'Rules are rules,' she said. And then, to distract him, 'My goodness, Timmy, just look at all that dust on Lady's saddle! Do you think you'd have time to clean it for me?'

* * *

With only three days left till the end of camp, Alison went to bed with a heavy heart. There was still no word from Clint. It had never occurred to her that she might leave Bushveld without seeing him again.

She did not know at what point in the night she became aware that someone was in her bed. For a moment she was quite sure she was dreaming.

But the warmth of the long, hard body that had curled itself snugly around hers was no dream. In a second her whole body had grown rigid.

'Clint?' she exclaimed disbelievingly.

'Mm,' grunted a sleepy voice.

'What on earth are you
doing
here?'

There was no answer as Clint curled himself more tightly around her, and an arm went around her, holding her just beneath her breasts. His breathing was slow and steady.

'Are you really asleep, Clint?' she whispered.

'Been travelling all day without a break,' he muttered groggily.

Alison decided to let him go on sleeping, although there would be no more rest for her tonight.

Gripped by a savage joy, she lay quite still within the warm embrace of his body. He was all around her, enveloping her, his thighs and hips against hers, the roughness of his chest against her back.

Gently, so as not to waken him, she took his hand and laid it on her breast. And then she put her own hand over his. Excitement began to fill her body, hot waves of desire flooding through her, one upon the other. Never before in her life had she been quite so desperate to make love as she was now.

It was dawn—and Alison had lain for hours drinking in the seductive maleness of Clint's body—when he stirred. The hand on her breast moved, tightened, the fingers beginning to caress her nipple. She held her breath, wondering if he was still sleeping. And then she felt him throb against her in the beginnings of desire, and she knew he was awake.

'Clint...'

His only answer was to nuzzle his lips against the back of her throat.

'What are you doing here?'

'Holding you,' he murmured. 'Dying to make love to you.'

Her heart was racing, and her body felt hot. But she laughed as she said, 'Rascal!' and turned in his arms.

He was so close to her that their noses touched on the pillow. 'When did you get back to camp, Clint?' she asked.

'After midnight. Everyone was asleep.'

'And I suppose you'd mislaid the key to your cabin?'

She knew the answer to that one, but she wanted to hear him say it.

His hands slid beneath the top of her pyjamas. 'Of course, not.'

'Then why are you here?' She was finding it harder and harder to breathe.

He was caressing her back now, the erotic touch of his fingers making her blood course like a veld-fire through her veins. 'I wanted to be with you.'

'And so you just walked straight in.'

With his tongue, he traced a line around her lips. 'As you see.'

Alison's heart was pounding so hard in her chest that she thought he must hear it. It was a double pounding because she could feel the beat of his heart as well as her own. 'You never thought to ask?'

'You were asleep. Can you imagine sleeping together every night, Alison?'

Every night until the end of camp must be what he meant. But there were so few nights left to them.

'You could have woken me...' she began.

'I enjoyed watching you sleep. Besides, the last time we met—after that wretched party of Brian's—you were so insistent that you never wanted to set eyes on me again.'

'That was a long time ago,' she said unsteadily.

'Did you mean what you said then?'

'I... At the time I did.'

'And now, Alison?' His voice was suddenly husky.

And she was able to say, 'Not now. Clint, I'm so sorry about what happened that night.'

He whispered against her mouth, 'No sorrier than I am for my own part in it.'

'I should have told you I'd changed my plans.'

'Even if you had told me, chances are I'd have been just as angry. I wanted you to come up the mountain with me that night.'

'Clint...'

'Alison, it's over.'

'Do you mean that?' she asked incredulously.

'I don't know why you went to the party, but I'd be happy if we could put it behind us. Forget the whole thing ever happened.' He was looking at her. 'I'm willing to, if you are, Alison.'

'Yes,' she whispered. It was hard to believe that he would make it so easy for her.

'Do you know how beautiful you are when you sleep?' he asked, so close to her that he seemed to be breathing the words between her lips.

'You could tell me.'

Laughter bubbled in his throat, as his hands moved downwards, shaping themselves to her hips, her buttocks, the tops of her thighs. 'I'm telling you all the time, Alison, in my own way. Don't you know that?'

What did she know? That he desired her. That she desired him. That their bodies called out to each other, ached for each other. Oh, yes, she knew that. But did he love her?

'And you, Alison, what are you telling me?'

She was confused. 'What do you mean?'

'When I woke up, I found my hand on your breast.'

She moved against him. 'Yes.'

'Do you know what it does to me when you move like that?' Clint groaned, and pulled her closer against him. 'Alison, I don't remember putting my hand on your breast before I went to sleep.'

'You didn't,' she whispered.

'Did you put it there?' His breathing had quickened. 'Yes...'

'Does that mean you were glad to find me in your bed?'

It was not possible for her to be coy with him. They had gone too far for that, and coyness had never been her scene, anyway. Besides, her warm body must give him all the answers he wanted.

'Yes, I was glad.'

Bending over her, he cupped her head in his hands so that he could kiss her, and after a moment she was kissing him too—long, hungry kisses, as if they were trying to make up for all the time they had been apart. They touched each other's bodies with their hands, caressing all the while that they were kissing. Clint's passions called forth an answering passion deep inside Alison, so that nothing mattered save for her body's urgent response to his. His lips and tongue brushed her throat and the soft swell of her breasts, creating trails of fire wherever they touched her warm, sensitive skin. And Alison, passion making her abandoned, let her hands move over him, her fingers seeking the hardness of his shoulders and sliding over the roughness of his chest.

But after a while Clint lifted his head. 'I missed you so much.' His voice was rough.

She looked back at him. 'You never wrote to me, never phoned.'

Uncharacteristically, he hesitated before saying, 'No.'

'Because of the fight we had after Brian's party?'

'No, it wasn't that.'

'Then why not? You could have been in touch, Clint.'

'Yes, I could,' he agreed.

'But you decided not to.' All the pent-up longing, the doubts and fears, turned to anger. 'Now you have the nerve to say that you missed me!'

'I did.'

'I don't know whether to believe you.'

'Are we having another fight, Alison?'

'If that's what you want to call it,' she said hotly. 'Were you having such a good time while you were away that you forgot I existed?' 'This isn't the girl I left behind,' drawled Clint after a long moment. 'The girl who didn't want to care about anyone else. Does this mean you've changed, Alison?'

She couldn't trust herself to answer the question. Instead, as calmly as she could, she said, 'I just wonder why you didn't bother to be in touch.'

'There was a reason, Alison.'

'Was there really?'

'Yes, darling. And in my own time I'll tell it to you. Can you trust me till then?'

I'd trust you with my life, she thought, and wondered whether the endearment meant anything.

'I think so.'

'And I think we're talking a dam sight too much.'

With one lithe movement he pulled her across him, so that she was lying on top of him. One of her legs slid between his, and her arms went around his neck. And then Clint kissed her until she was almost insane with pleasure.

The first sounds of morning were beginning to filter through into the cabin, but Alison hardly heard them. She and Clint had never shared an intimacy quite like this. His legs had wrapped themselves around hers, so that she could feel the throb of his desire against her. It was at the same time frightening and exciting to know that she had such power to arouse the man she loved.

We Tit together, she thought exultantly. Our bodies were made for each other. What we do together is right and lovely. It's the way it was meant to be.

She parted when there was a quick rap on the door, and a voice called, 'Alison, wake up!'

Alison stiffened in Clint's arms. 'Mary,' she whispered against his ear.

'Alison! Are you awake? Time for breakfast!'

'Better answer her,' Clint advised quietly.

'Go on without me,' she called back. 'I'll see you in a few minutes.'

Clint gave a ragged laugh as Mary walked away. 'You've just been granted your reprieve,' he said.

'Reprieve?' Her voice was choked.