to marry her just because her father can do great things for him.' She put her hand over her eyes. 'No, I can't believe it's that.
'The worst of it was the way I found out.' Her voice was very low now, it was the only way she could keep herself from crying. 'I decided to go to Raymond's house, to try and patch things up. And I...I found them together. They were lying on a sofa... kissing.'
'My God!' he muttered.
'Raymond was terribly embarrassed, of course. But he told me he loved Edna and that he was going to marry her. For a while I couldn't believe it. There was this great emptiness inside me.'
'That's something I know all about.'
'Yes, you would. But Clint, I felt so let down, disillusioned. If I couldn't trust Raymond, there was nobody I could trust.'
'Not every man is like Raymond,' Clint said quietly.
'That's something I'll never know.'
His voice changed. 'I hope you don't really mean that.'
'I told you last night that I didn't intend to find a replacement for Raymond, and I meant it,' Alison insisted.
Clint reached for her hand again. 'You think that now because you're still hurt. I believe the time will come when you will love again, Alison.'
'I won't let it happen. In fact, I'll make quite sure it doesn't.' She drew her hand away from his. 'When I found out about Edna I wanted to die. I was so jealous of her, Clint, it was awful!'
'A normal reaction, I'd say.'
'Maybe so, but I don't want to experience it again. Yesterday you asked me if I was the jealous kind. I'm never going to be jealous again, Clint. You can only be jealous if you love someone, and I don't intend to let myself love again.'
'What about loneliness?'
'I won't be lonely. I'll have my stables and my horses, all the things I like best. I'll never have to wonder whether a man is interested in me because he loves me, or because I happen to be the diversion of the moment.'
She looked at him steadily in the dim light. 'That's why I didn't tell you the truth about Raymond. I didn't want you thinking I was fair game just because there was no longer a man in the picture.'
'Your opinion of me is flattering,' he said drily.
'It's not personal, Clint. It would have been the same with any man.'
'I see.'
'Anyway, perhaps now you can understand why I don't want to be touched?'
'You're a lovely woman, Alison. I know that you're warm and caring, and I sense that you've a great capacity for love. Are you really going to deny yourself a normal life?' He sounded troubled.
'That part of my life is over,' she said firmly. 'I'm not likely to change my mind.'
She was surprised when Clint asked her to have dinner with him at the hotel again that evening.
'After what happened last night? Aren't you embarrassed to be seen with me?' she queried.
'I don't get embarrassed that easily,' he said cheerfully. 'The counsellors arrive tomorrow, Alison. Let's have one lovely evening together before this place becomes a madhouse. I won't make a pass at you, I promise.'
And, in fact, it really was a lovely evening. There was none of the strain of yesterday; tonight they talked and laughed with the easy enjoyment of two people who had become friends.
The food was delicious—a succulent fish this time, caught in the cold, fresh waters of the mountains. Once again Clint ordered wine, a sparkling Riesling that came from vineyards much further south than the Drakensberg.
Time passed quickly as they talked about music and films and books they had both read, and Alison was amazed to find how much she was enjoying herself. The conversation was eager and spirited, for their opinions differed widely.
One film in particular was the subject of keen discussion. It was a movie they had both enjoyed, though each had seen it in a different light. Clint saw Miranda, the heroine, as a charming schemer; to Alison she was a helpless victim of circumstances. A good ten minutes were spent discussing plot and character, with neither Clint nor Alison willing to compromise their
'The worst of it was the way I found out.' Her voice was very low now, it was the only way she could keep herself from crying. 'I decided to go to Raymond's house, to try and patch things up. And I...I found them together. They were lying on a sofa... kissing.'
'My God!' he muttered.
'Raymond was terribly embarrassed, of course. But he told me he loved Edna and that he was going to marry her. For a while I couldn't believe it. There was this great emptiness inside me.'
'That's something I know all about.'
'Yes, you would. But Clint, I felt so let down, disillusioned. If I couldn't trust Raymond, there was nobody I could trust.'
'Not every man is like Raymond,' Clint said quietly.
'That's something I'll never know.'
His voice changed. 'I hope you don't really mean that.'
'I told you last night that I didn't intend to find a replacement for Raymond, and I meant it,' Alison insisted.
Clint reached for her hand again. 'You think that now because you're still hurt. I believe the time will come when you will love again, Alison.'
'I won't let it happen. In fact, I'll make quite sure it doesn't.' She drew her hand away from his. 'When I found out about Edna I wanted to die. I was so jealous of her, Clint, it was awful!'
'A normal reaction, I'd say.'
'Maybe so, but I don't want to experience it again. Yesterday you asked me if I was the jealous kind. I'm never going to be jealous again, Clint. You can only be jealous if you love someone, and I don't intend to let myself love again.'
'What about loneliness?'
'I won't be lonely. I'll have my stables and my horses, all the things I like best. I'll never have to wonder whether a man is interested in me because he loves me, or because I happen to be the diversion of the moment.'
She looked at him steadily in the dim light. 'That's why I didn't tell you the truth about Raymond. I didn't want you thinking I was fair game just because there was no longer a man in the picture.'
'Your opinion of me is flattering,' he said drily.
'It's not personal, Clint. It would have been the same with any man.'
'I see.'
'Anyway, perhaps now you can understand why I don't want to be touched?'
'You're a lovely woman, Alison. I know that you're warm and caring, and I sense that you've a great capacity for love. Are you really going to deny yourself a normal life?' He sounded troubled.
'That part of my life is over,' she said firmly. 'I'm not likely to change my mind.'
She was surprised when Clint asked her to have dinner with him at the hotel again that evening.
'After what happened last night? Aren't you embarrassed to be seen with me?' she queried.
'I don't get embarrassed that easily,' he said cheerfully. 'The counsellors arrive tomorrow, Alison. Let's have one lovely evening together before this place becomes a madhouse. I won't make a pass at you, I promise.'
And, in fact, it really was a lovely evening. There was none of the strain of yesterday; tonight they talked and laughed with the easy enjoyment of two people who had become friends.
The food was delicious—a succulent fish this time, caught in the cold, fresh waters of the mountains. Once again Clint ordered wine, a sparkling Riesling that came from vineyards much further south than the Drakensberg.
Time passed quickly as they talked about music and films and books they had both read, and Alison was amazed to find how much she was enjoying herself. The conversation was eager and spirited, for their opinions differed widely.
One film in particular was the subject of keen discussion. It was a movie they had both enjoyed, though each had seen it in a different light. Clint saw Miranda, the heroine, as a charming schemer; to Alison she was a helpless victim of circumstances. A good ten minutes were spent discussing plot and character, with neither Clint nor Alison willing to compromise their
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