Serpent in Paradise Read online

  'You!' They both said it at once, and the surprise was common and instantaneous.

  He recovered first. He had straightened after touching her, and now he stood looking down at her. Sloan Garfield at his most imperious.

  'I don't believe you—about the snakes, I mean.' Teri didn't know what made her say it, except that at that moment there seemed nothing else to say, and it seemed important to speak, if only to hide her shock.

  'A mamba was killed here just a few days ago.'

  In an instant she was on her feet. 'In this gorgeous spot?'

  'Serpent in paradise,' he said mockingly. 'Snakes love that warm rock, that's why we keep the undergrowth around it cut short.'

  We? Teri looked at him and felt something turn over inside her. The strangest feeling, she had never experienced anything remotely like it before. We? Mrs Roland had denied that Sloan Garfield had had anything to do with her decision to return to Vins Doux. Had Teri guessed that he would be here she would never have agreed to come.

  And that was not altogether true. She thought now that somehow, without ever admitting it to herself consciously, she had known all along.

  Serpent in paradise. Was he the serpent in paradise? Sloan Garfield, tall and tough and hard, and yes, devastatingly handsome if you liked that brand of uncompromisingly male good looks, which she did not, Teri decided very firmly. Vins Doux was as close to paradise as any place could be, and now Sloan had materialised to ruin it for her.

  'We?' she asked, infusing her voice with all the coldness she could summon. 'You had a hand in killing the mamba?'

  'One of the men helped me.' His eyes were very blue, and as penetrating as if he could see right through her to her innermost thoughts—which he could not.

  'You work here, then?' She was pandering to him with her curiosity, and yet she could not seem to help herself.

  There was just the briefest of pauses before he said, 'I see to things, yes.'

  She recalled the first time she had met him. Wearing a suit that proclaimed elegance and taste in every well-cut inch, he had had the look of a businessman, a highly successful one at that. Now, with the sun gilding the thick fair hair as he towered above her, the image he presented was very different. In denims and a shirt that revealed tanned throat and arms, he looked like a man who spent his days out of doors.

  And yet in some ways he had not changed at all. There was the look of power she had noticed the first time; the same blend of arrogance and sensuousness. And, no denying it, a sexuality which had made her think, perhaps consciously for the first time, of a passion that might exist in herself.

  A hand reached down to her, and involuntarily she flinched.

  'Do you always react so strongly?' His voice was sardonic. 'I was only going to help you up.'

  The idea of grasping that big male hand was oddly disturbing, but he would think it strange if she refused the gesture. Though she could have stood up perfectly well by herself she took the proffered hand, noting abstractedly that the fingers beneath their coating of fine earth were long and well shaped. It was an impression that fled her mind as a tingling flamed up her wrist and her arm. The moment she was upright she took a step away from him and withdrew her own hand. Behaviour that was natural enough, but she saw that his eyes glinted.

  'You haven't told me what you're doing here, Miss Malloy.'

  She stared at him. If his position at Vins Doux were of any importance, surely Emma would have told him. 'I'm Mrs Roland's companion.'

  'Ah!' Blue eyes and a long jaw went suddenly hard. His gaze had been on her face. Now it moved downwards, deliberately, to linger on her body. Teri held her breath as anger rose inside her. When the probing eyes lifted once more she was ready for him.

  'Scrutiny complete?'

  'Thank you, yes.'

  The gall of the man, to sound quite so self-assured! At the least he could have apologised for his appalling manners.

  'I'm so glad.'

  Disdainfully she lifted her head, and walked away from him. Only a step or two, for then a hand took her wrist. Teri forced herself to stand very still.

  'When did this come to pass?' he asked, before she could speak.

  Something dangerous in his voice, even more than the strangeness of the question, had her swinging round to stare at him.

  'What do you mean?'

  'You were Emma Roland's companion in Johannesburg?'

  'Of course not, you must know that.' She broke off. Evidently he knew even less than she thought. 'My job began today, here, at Vins Doux.'

  'I see.'

  It must be an overworked imagination that endowed his tone with menace.

  'Let go my arm,' she ordered.

  'You're going back to the house?'

  'Yes.' Long fingers played on the sleeve of her shirt burning through the fabric and on to her arm. Teri said, 'Was there something else you wanted to say, Mr Garfield?'

  'Just a compliment. What a nice outfit you're wearing, Miss Malloy.'

  The last thing she would have expected from him. About to say a mechanical thank you, Teri checked herself just in time. For the compliment was not well meant at all. She had only to look at the mirthless smile to know that.

  Without a word she turned away, quickly this time, giving him no chance to see the confusion in her face or to detain her again.

  Back she went, through the vineyards and the garden. The homestead was in view now, beautiful, architecturally perfect. Serpent in paradise—Sloan's words came back to Teri. If Vins Doux was indeed a kind of paradise, she could only hope that Sloan Garfield was not the serpent who would destroy her happiness in it.

  Jill was still asleep when Teri returned, but she must have been ready to wake, for at the sound of the door she stirred. The little face, rosy with sleep, creased in a drowsy smile and two arms, painfully thin, wound themselves about Teri's neck.

  'Ready to get up, Jilly?' Teri lifted the child from her bed, and carried her to a chair by the window. Hugging the small warm body to her, she looked outside. The rose-garden was below her, and Esther, the housekeeper, was cutting roses, filling a basket with the blooms.

  The photographs of Vins Doux had indeed not done justice to the estate. It was more beautiful than anything Teri had imagined, and she knew quite certainly that her sister could not fail to thrive here.

  Wispy hair was soft against her cheek, and suddenly Teri buried her face in it. She had done the right thing in coming to Vins Doux. She must not forget it. She must not let Sloan Garfield allow her to forget it. He meant nothing to her, and he could disturb her only if she chose to let him do so.

  It was strange that Emma Roland hadn't mentioned that he would be here. But perhaps it wasn't strange at all. There were also other things of which she had not spoken. And there was no reason, really, why she should have singled out one member of her staff.

  That was the strangest thing of all—Sloan Garfield did not have the look of being anything but his own man.

  She gave her head a violent shake, causing Jill to look up puzzled. 'It's nothing, poppet.' Teri pressed the little head back against her chest. There was no way she could explain to the child her exasperation at the fact that the man she had decided not to think about was so hard to push from her mind. She could not even explain to herself why this should be so.

  Glancing at her watch, Teri saw that it was nearly dinner-time. Of Emma Roland there had been no sign. She had looked so tired, perhaps she was still sleeping. There were things Teri would have liked to ask. Should she dress up for dinner? Was she likely to run often into Sloan Garfield…

  Heavens! she was at it again, and after she had decided not to give him a moment's thought. It was up to her to avoid Sloan, and it could not be too hard to do so. Vins Doux was a huge estate, and her duties and Sloan's ran in different directions. She would be with Emma in the house or in the garden. Sloan would be busy in the vineyards. Their paths would not cross. At least not often.

  As for the question of dressing up
, Teri was not yet aware of the customs at Vins Doux. Tonight or tomorrow Mrs Roland would tell her the things she had to know. In the meantime she could only use her own discretion.

  Jill was pirouetting from one room to the other, a two-year-old female excited with the delights of a pretty new dress. A twirling butterfly, enchanting in her raiment of lace-edged pink. Smiling, Teri watched her a few moments, and suffered a pang of sorrow for the parents who would never see an adorable baby grow into a lovely girl.

  The smile was replaced by a frown as she turned to her wardrobe. The choice should have been so simple; oddly it wasn't simple at all.

  Fifteen minutes later she studied herself in the mirror. 'This dress does things for you,' the saleslady had enthused at the time of the purchase, and Teri knew that the words had been more than just sales pitch. A subtle blending of emerald and turquoise enhanced her delicate colouring, adding lustre to green eyes and to cheeks that had been warmed by the afternoon in the sun. It was a simple dress, but its expense was evident in its elegant lines. The snug bodice hinted sensuously at shapely breasts, the skirt was graceful over slim hips and revealed long legs to their best advantage.

  Normally not given to spending much time on her appearance, Teri wondered why she did so now. Leaning forward, she applied a touch of green eyeshadow and some dark mascara. All at once the elfin-shaped face was all eyes. The effect was startling.

  Did a quiet dinner at home necessitate so much preparation? Yes, Teri told herself, this was Emma Roland's first evening back home, and she would appreciate the effort to make it special. And then Teri gave a small sharp exclamation of anger. Who was she trying to fool? At least with herself she could be honest. The effort was for a man she didn't like and who made no effort to conceal the fact that he did not like her. A man who would not even be present tonight.

  But he was there. She saw him the moment she came into the dining-room. Her breath jerked, and she gripped Jill's hand tightly, as if to draw strength from the little girl at her side.

  Sloan had his back to her. He was talking to Mrs Roland at the far end of the room. By the time they registered her presence and turned, Teri's breathing had returned to normal and she was able to smile.

  'I'm glad to see you looking so rested,' she said to Emma, ignoring the man at her side.

  'Oh, I feel much better. Plane journeys drain me every time, but three hours of shameless sleeping have restored me. Sloan, you've already met my companion. And this beguiling child,' she bent and drew Jill forward, 'is little Jill Malloy.'

  Teri had been watching Emma's pleasure in the little girl. Now some instinct brought her up to face Sloan Garfield. Contempt, more chilling than anything she had yet seen, had spread over the lean features. The blue eyes bore a hardness she was beginning to recognise, the long jaw was a steel line.

  Teri stared at him, momentarily confused, and felt her heart pounding.

  'I didn't know you had a child, Miss Malloy.' The emphasis was on the word 'Miss'.

  The confusion was gone. 'You're judging me,' Teri thought as anger rose inside her. 'You think Jill is my daughter, and you're presuming to judge me.'

  Chin lifting in a manner which Louise would have recognised as heralding battle, she replied sweetly, 'There are things you don't know about me, Mr Garfield.'

  Beside her she heard Emma draw breath. For a few moments she had actually forgotten the woman's presence. In those moments it had seemed as if there were only two people in the room, Teri Malloy and Sloan Garfield, battle lines defined sharply between them. Emma opened her mouth, as if to speak. 'Jill is Teri's sister,' she would say, just as if Sloan needed an explanation, not understanding that he did not deserve it.

  Teri threw her a quick look of appeal. Don't explain, please don't explain. Would Emma understand? No… the kind elderly face was puzzled. And then, incredibly, yes! She did understand, for a shimmer of mischief appeared in her eyes.

  Calmly, as if the words had been the ones she'd intended all along, Emma said, 'Sloan and I have already helped ourselves to drinks. What will you have, Teri dear?'

  Looking at the array of bottles, Teri wondered what she should choose. Her acquaintance with alcohol was limited to the very occasional bottle of wine she and Andy had shared over a meal. About to ask Emma what she would recommend, she heard an insolent voice ask, 'A lemonade, Miss Malloy?'

  'Perfect,' she replied sweetly, 'for Jill.' And when the little girl had been given her glass, she said, 'A whisky for me, I think.'

  'With soda?'

  'On the rocks,' Teri told him provocatively, repeating a phrase she had read often enough.

  'On the rocks?' Mrs Roland echoed incredulously, and Teri knew that she had surprised her again; until that moment she had always stuck to orange juice, even when Emma was having her after-dinner sherry. 'Might be reckless on an empty stomach,' the older woman demurred.

  'Oh, I think not,' said Sloan, sensuous lips curling in a wicked taunt. 'Miss Malloy has a penchant for recklessness.'

  'How could you know?' Emma was curious. 'This is just the second time that you two have met.'

  'Third,' said Teri, realising that Emma did not know of the afternoon's encounter. She looked at Sloan, taking in the ruggedly handsome features. Hating him.

  There was no chance to explain, for Sloan was handing her a glass. As she took it from him his fingers made contact with hers. A deliberate contact, she realised, when the fingers remained on the glass after they could have released it. She could have moved her own fingers, she supposed afterwards, and wondered why she hadn't.

  Mercifully, the long fingers lifted at length, breaking contact. The whole incident had lasted no more than seconds. It made no sense that Teri should feel dizzy.

  Sloan was still close to her, his head inclined, and she heard him murmur softly, 'Fourth time, actually,' and then he had moved away, and was lifting his own glass to his lips.

  She looked at him again, without meaning to, and found him waiting for her. Four times… Perhaps it was strain that had made her forget the first meeting, when she had thrown mud at his car. But Sloan had not forgotten. He was a man who would not forget things. She suppressed a shiver.

  'Miss Malloy seems to like rocks,' he observed mildly.

  'Teri—Sloan. First names, please. Teri would prefer it that way, I'm sure—wouldn't you dear?—and you've never been one to stand on ceremony, Sloan.' Emma looked from one to the other. 'And now do tell me about this third meeting. Rocks and recklessness— I'm intrigued!'

  'We met this afternoon. I had to wake Teri.' Her name sounded odd on his lips, she could not have said why. 'She was sleeping against the big rock near the west vineyard.'

  'In the clearing?' Emma asked in consternation. 'We've had snakes there. Oh lord, Teri, I never thought to warn you!'

  'You couldn't have known I'd wander that way.' The girl kept her voice light.

  'Yes, but still… Just as well you spotted her, Sloan.'

  'Just as well,' he agreed. 'We killed a mamba there only last week.' And then, oh so politely, 'You're not drinking your whisky, Teri?'

  'Cheers.'

  She lifted her glass to her lips. Only supreme effort stopped a gasp as liquid fire attacked her throat. Quickly dropping her eyes, she let her lashes conceal her shock.

  'You don't have to drink it,' a low male voice informed her.

  A moment was all she needed to regain some semblance of control. Lifting her head, she met the blue-eyed gaze squarely. 'I drink this all the time.'

  Deliberately she took another sip, keeping her eyes on his, and this time she was ready for the fire of the alcohol, and she did not flinch.

  'Hm,' said Sloan. Just one syllable, and Teri wished she knew what he meant by it. His eyes glinted with something that looked very much like amusement. She hated him even more. Words bubbled on her lips, there were things she wanted to tell him. And then on the periphery of her vision she registered Emma Roland—for a few moments she had been unaware once more of her emplo
yer's existence—and she thought better of it.

  'I think,' said Sloan, addressing Emma, 'that Teri should be told a few facts before she wanders out on her own again.'

  'Right.' Emma looked worried. 'Like any big place Vins Doux does have its dangers.'

  Other rocks where snakes liked to hide? A beach, perhaps, where the tide came in quickly so that the unwary sunbather could be cut off by water?

  'For Jill's sake it would be best if I was forewarned.' Teri smiled, but she felt anything but amused, for instinct told her that the worst danger, the danger to herself, did not lie in snakes or tides, but in a totally different quarter.

  'Hungry,' a small voice piped.

  'We're about to eat, darling,' Mrs Roland told Jill as she led the way to the table and summoned a servant with a brief shake of a silver bell. 'Why don't we all sit down?'

  The meal was not sumptuous, but in the gracious dining-room it gave the impression of being so. Table and chairs were of walnut, the rich polished sheen set off perfectly against curtains and carpet of dark gold. The cutlery was a heavy Cape Dutch silver, the porcelain so delicate that Teri gave a mental cross to her fingers in the hope that Jill would not break or chip a plate.

  There was lamb, delicately flavoured, and served with new potatoes and tiny peas and a crisp salad. And there was wine. Emma lifted a fine crystal glass to her lips, took a sip, then smiled across at Sloan. 'Perfect,' she pronounced. 'And if I'm not wrong I think I recognise the vintage.'

  'You're not wrong,' he smiled back at her, and his eyes had in them none of the hardness Teri had observed in her own encounters with him.

  'Vins Doux wine?' she asked.

  She saw Mrs Roland field a brief glance from Sloan before she answered. 'Not in this instance. This wine was bottled at a neighbouring estate called Bienvenue, and Sloan knows it's a favourite of mine.'

  The wine was delicious, sparkling and light, yet not too sweet, making Teri feel pleasantly languorous. Emma was talking to Sloan, wine business which Teri did not understand, and as her earlier tension drained away she began to enjoy the meal and let the conversation wash over her.