Impetuous Marriage Read online

  Impetuous Marriage

  By

  Rosemary Carter

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  IMPETUOUS MARRIAGE

  Marry in haste and repent at leisure is an old saying that Tracy Galland hoped did not apply to her. But once married to the devastatingly attractive Ryan Demant, she began to have her doubts…

  Another book you will enjoy

  by

  ROSEMARY CARTER

  LETTER FROM BRONZE MOUNTAIN

  How had Megan managed to fall in love with Roan, the man who had caused her so much unhappiness? And why, when he was so obviously not indifferent to her, did he keep on running away?

  First published in Great Britain 1985

  by Mills & Boon Limited

  © Rosemary Carter 1985

  Australian copyright 1985

  Philippine copyright 1985

  This edition 1985

  ISBN 0 263 75084 1

  CHAPTER ONE

  'Allison's eloped.'

  Tracy Galland gripped the telephone tightly with one hand while with the other she pushed a thick swathe of honey-coloured hair from her puckered forehead.

  'I don't believe you're serious.'

  'It's true, I tell you. Tracy, you have to stop them.'

  Her mother was serious, Tracy decided, catching the sincerity in the panic-stricken tone. What had her young sister been up to this time?

  'You have to go after them!' Lucille Galland said again.

  'It's hard to discuss this on the phone.' Tracy glanced at Dean, who was watching her with a mixture of amusement and impatience.

  'You'll leave today?'

  'I'm working, Mom.'

  'That nice young man will understand.'

  Impatience was rapidly becoming the dominant expression in Dean's face. Studio time was expensive, and a struggling young photographer had to think of costs.

  'I'll be at the house by four.' Tracy flexed a shapely leg that had become stiff from remaining too long in one pose. 'Mom—please try to relax. Getting yourself worked up will achieve nothing.'

  'Trouble?' Dean asked, as she came back to him, and tried to recapture her position on the white hammock.

  'My sister has run off. Eloped, Mom says.'

  'Light's fading,' was the only response. 'You had the left leg bent not the right one.' Tracy changed positions and the camera clicked. 'Ah, that's good, honey. Smile. Lovely. One more.'

  The camera clicked, one, two, three, in quick succession, while Tracy kept both the pose and the smile. 'Marvellous. That leg again. Ah, right. Sensational.'

  And then the session was over, and Tracy relaxed, the slender tanned body leaving the hammock in a graceful movement that reminded the watching man of a dancer.

  'That was great,' Dean said. 'I'll work in the darkroom tonight. Can't wait to see the results.' He came to her. 'Let's have something to eat in the meantime, I'm starving, we both are. You've been marvellous, Tracy, you can name the restaurant.'

  She smiled up at him as she slipped on a light corduroy jacket. 'I have to get home, but thanks anyway.'

  'You really believe your sister has eloped? You can't be serious.'

  'My mother sounded serious. In fact she sounded rather desperate.'

  'And now she wants to talk to you about it?'

  'More than talk.' Tracy made a rueful face. 'She wants me to stop them.'

  'Try stopping two determined people.' Dean was amused.

  'I may have to try.'

  'You sound as if you mean it.'

  'I do.'

  The laughter left the young man's eyes as he put his hands on her shoulders. 'You can't just leave here, Tracy.'

  'I may have to.' Green eyes, the colour of emeralds, were troubled.

  'Just what do you intend doing?'

  'I won't know that till I've spoken to my mother.'

  'Would you really go after Allison?'

  'I don't know.'

  'You've work to do here, Tracy.'

  She shifted beneath his hands. 'We've wrapped up this photo session, Dean.'

  'I'm hoping to get something else lined up.'

  'You may have to look for another model, if only for the next assignment.'

  'You're my favourite.' The look he gave her was only partly professional. They had been dating for almost three months, and Dean made no secret of the attraction Tracy held for him. 'Why did Allison have to do such a silly thing?' he asked.

  Green eyes sparkled suddenly. 'It's not the first silly thing she's done. I adore my young sister, but it seems to me sometimes that I've spent much of my life getting her out of scrapes. This is the first time she's rushed into an impetuous marriage, though.'

  Strong hands tightened on her shoulders, drawing her to him. 'I wish I could persuade you into an impetuous marriage, Tracy love.'

  She laughed softly as she let herself rest against him. 'Two run-away marriages might be more than my mother could stand.'

  'Doesn't need to be a run-away affair.' His tone had grown serious. 'I want to marry you, Tracy.'

  'Dean…' She pulled a little away from him, tensing as she always did when the subject of marriage was mentioned.

  'Just say the word, honey.'

  'I can't…'

  'Not with your mother waiting for you,' he agreed. As if he sensed her resistance and impatience, the hands that held her loosened their grip. 'When you've brought Allison safely back home, maybe we can talk again.'

  'Dean…'

  'Think about it, honey, that's all I ask.' He grinned down at her, but his tone was a little ragged. 'Just don't take too long.'

  What was stopping her from saying yes to Dean? she wondered, as she emerged from the building and began to make her way to the bus-stop. They had so much in common. Too much she thought sometimes, for when they talked it was as if their thoughts on most things were similar. She could anticipate his comments before he made them, which did not make for stimulating conversation. They both enjoyed music and dancing and swimming, and when he kissed her that was enjoyable too. But not electrifying. Perhaps if it had been more electrifying it would not be so easy to resist his efforts to get her to go to bed with him. But then perhaps enjoyment was the most one could hope for in a relationship. Maybe the passions she'd read about, and which she dimly perceived as being dormant in herself, were not part of real life. Maybe she was silly to hold out on Dean when she knew they could be happy together.

  She stopped at a crossing and gave her head a shake, her thick fair hair bouncing on her shoulders as she did so. Why was she thinking about Dean? No decision had to be made today. It was Allison who should be occupying her thoughts, Allison and a man whose name she did not know, and who might conceivably already be Tracy's brother-in-law. The crossing was clear and Tracy crossed the road, walking suddenly faster.

  The streets of Durban were crowded with people going home from work, and many were the male glances that rested appreciatively on the tall young girl with hair the colour of liquid honey, and a graceful figure that was rounded in all the right places. Tracy would have been amazed to know how many men thought her beautiful. At twenty-two she knew that she was considered attractive, knew too that there was something piquantly different about her face, which accounted for the fact that she was in demand as a photographic model. But beautiful was not a word that she would have applied to herself. Of the two sisters it was Allison who was beautiful.

  Whereas Tracy was tall
and graceful, Allison was tiny and delicate and very pretty. Resilient enough when she had to be, she nevertheless had a fragile appearance that made men fall over themselves to protect her. And Allison loved their protectiveness. She had had many boyfriends, but eloping was something new and different, making Tracy wonder about the man who had convinced her sister to take such an extraordinary step.

  'His name is Derrick Demant,' said her mother, when Tracy had settled her with tea and a biscuit.

  'Demant?' Tracy was thoughtful. 'The name rings no bell. A new boyfriend?'

  'Fairly new. Because you're always at your flat you haven't run into him. Allie didn't talk about him often, but I've met him once or twice. What are we going to do?'

  'Nothing in a hurry.' Tracy's voice was firm as she made an effort to calm her mother. 'How do you know it's serious?'

  'She left a letter.'

  'In true dramatic Allison fashion,' Tracy said drily.

  'Don't joke at a time like this.' Lucille Galland looked tense.

  'I'm sorry.' Tracy felt a pang of remorse as she noted her mother's white face. 'Tell me what happened.'

  'As I said, she left a letter Such a serious-sounding letter. There's also a photo. I'll show them to you.'

  Reading the letter, Tracy registered the thread of seriousness which made her mother believe that Allison meant to go through with the marriage. There was nothing dramatic about it after all. She loved Derrick, she said, and she was going to marry him.

  My future brother-in-law? Tracy wondered, as she picked up the photo and wished that she could see Derrick Demant's features more clearly. The photo had been taken by a novice, for it was out of focus and there was light and shade in all the wrong places. Derrick towered above Allison. He was smiling down at her, and his arm was around her shoulders. He was tall, his hair was dark, and he had the slightly awkward look of a young man who had not yet become altogether comfortable with his height and the power of his body.

  'Can't tell much from this,' she said, looking across at her mother.

  'I can tell you something. He's a fortune-hunter.'

  Tracy stared at her mother. 'I beg your pardon!'

  'He's after Tracy's money.'

  'Uncle Ned's legacy?' Tracy burst out laughing, and was sorry a moment later when she saw her mother's hurt face. 'It's hardly a fortune,' she said.

  'Not what some might call a fortune, maybe, but everything is relative. To a young farm labourer five thousand more or less is not to be sneezed at.' She pushed a distraught hand through her hair. 'Will you go after them, Tracy?'

  Tracy's laughter vanished as she sat forward in her chair. 'They could be married by now.'

  'Heaven forbid!'

  'You've given me nothing to go on. What do you know about Derrick Demant? Who is he? Where have they gone? The letter doesn't say.'

  'He lives at a farm called Umhlowi. Somewhere on the South Coast. The nearest biggest village could be Ifafa Beach.'

  'That's his home?'

  'It's where he works as far as I could gather.'

  'Anything else?'

  'He's in his early twenties. Allison's crazy about him, and she seems to think the feeling's mutual.'

  'In that case the marriage might not be as disastrous as you think.'

  'Tracy!'

  'You really think he's a fortune-hunter?'

  Her mother hesitated. 'Yes, I do. He's deliberately swept Allie off her feet. There has to be a reason for this head-long rush into madness.'

  Useless to point out to her mother in this emotion-charged moment that perhaps it was not head-long after all, that it was possible that Derrick Demant was the right man for Allison. For now the first priority was to find her sister, and to discover whether marriage was what she really wanted, or whether, in a mood of romantic impulsiveness, she had let a momentary whim determine the course of her life.

  'Have you thought of the fact that Allie isn't eighteen yet?' she asked. 'She can't get married without your permission.'

  'She could lie about her age.'

  'I don't believe she'd do that.'

  'Tracy, please, you know I can't get away from the boutique. When can you leave?'

  Tracy drew a breath that was something between a laugh and a sigh. Did her mother understand what she was asking of her? Did she really think that her daughter could go, at a moment's notice, to a farm that was 'somewhere near Ifafa Beach'?

  'I have a flat,' she said.

  'I'll water the plants and feed the cat.'

  'I also have to speak to Dean.'

  'Dean, yes…'

  'I do have a job,' Tracy reminded patiently.

  'Can't it wait?'

  'If we were in the midst of something important I might say no. As it is we were just wrapping up a session.'

  Lucille smiled her relief. 'It's simple then.'

  Nothing was ever quite that simple, Tracy thought later, as she sat in the garden and stared through the darkness. The African sky was ablaze with stars, and the air had lost none of its daytime heat, for this was Natal, the sugar-cane belt of South Africa, where the weather was often muggily hot for months on end without respite. Fortunately Tracy loved the heat, and didn't suffer from the humidity which caused so much of the population to flee indoors for the relief that air-conditioners could afford them.

  The house was set high on a hilly slope, and below her Tracy saw the myriad lights of the city. Especially colourful was the coastal road, with lights twinkling and sparkling in what seemed an unending carnival spirit. Indeed, were she to drive down there now she would find herself mingling with the many tourists thronging the promenades and amusement-parks above the beaches. Further out the Indian Ocean was austerely black against the starlit sky. Here and there were the lights of ships, motionless, each one waiting its turn for a berth in the Durban harbour.

  Tracy had always loved this view. Yet tonight she found herself unable to enjoy it.

  She would make her way to Ifafa Beach, she decided. Once there she would find out how to get to Umhlowi. She had suggested a phone-call to her sister, but her mother had protested. Allison could be eloquent when she chose, she could talk herself out of most situations. A face-to-face confrontation, and an unexpected one at that, had the most chance of success. Either Allison would be amenable to reason or not, one way or the other Tracy could be back in Durban in a matter of days.

  It was strange then that she felt uneasy. As if by going to Umhlowi things would never be quite the same again. It was an uneasiness that she could not explain.

  She caught the train the next morning. The undulating sugar-cane covered hills gave way to fruit farms as the train chugged its way southwards. Mangoes, lychees, bananas and pawpaws began to be seen with more frequency. The train was never far from the coast. On one side were the farmlands, on the other the sea. Tracy's co-passengers were enchanted with the views that unfolded at every turn of the railway-line, but she herself was preoccupied.

  It was strange, she thought, she was going on a journey to save her sister from a too-hasty marriage. At the same time she was putting distance between herself and a man who wanted to marry her, delaying the making of a decision, so that in a way a few days away from home were a relief of a sort.

  And yet the uneasiness persisted. At Ifafa Beach she got off the train. How to proceed from the seaside village? she wondered. On the assumption that a local estate agency would be familiar with most of the farms in the district, she walked into the nearest one and asked for directions.

  There was a bus that stopped not far from Umhlowi, said the man who answered her query, but a taxi would probably be her best bet at this particular hour of the day. He showed no surprise at the name of the farm, which was reassuring. For the first time Tracy acknowledged the suspicion that she had thought she might arrive here only to find that the name Derrick Demant had given had been a fictitious one.

  The taxi drove along the coastal road a few miles before turning inland, and Tracy began to take an interest in
her surroundings. The countryside was so lush and profuse. Set back from the road were the disciplined lands of the fruit-farms, but closer at hand there was just profuse vegetation and colour. All along the railway tracks there had been palm-trees, pawpaw and banana palms growing wild as weeds, and here beside the road there were even more palms. There were no spaces between them, there was just a riotous undergrowth of a fleshy-leafed plants and brightly coloured shrubs, a few shoots of wild sugar-cane here, a scarlet poinsettia or hibiscus that had seeded itself there. All of it strong and hardy beneath the hot African sun.

  They came at last to Umhlowi, and Tracy sat straighter in her seat as the taxi-driver left the car to open a pair of great wrought-iron gates set beneath a tall stone archway. Her interest deepened as they proceeded along a drive that was bordered by scarlet-flowered flame-trees. Through the flame-trees she could see the orchards. Row upon row of fruit-trees, citrus and mangoes, extending as far as the eye could see, healthy-looking and with the appearance of being carefully tended. None of the riotous undergrowth here that she had seen on the highway. It would take much discipline to keep it at bay, she realised, and understood that Umhlowi was a much more impressive place than either she or her mother had anticipated.

  At the farmhouse, a lovely white-walled building surrounded by great shady trees, the taxi came to a halt. Tracy paid the driver and experienced a moment of panic. Was she crazy to have come all this way? Would she get any sympathy from the people who lived here? Perhaps they would feel that any mess Allison and her Derrick had got into was of their own making. But the panic was momentary. She had come here for a purpose and she was not going to let the grandeur of Umhlowi and the possible uninterest of its owners deter her. She watched the vehicle drive away. Then she lifted her chin and made for the big oak door.

  A finger was on the bell, ready to press it, when she heard the sound. A wailing sound, constant and piteous. She saw the cat almost immediately. It was in a tree, and it was looking down at her, its mouth opening in one long unhappy mew after another.