that made him swear that he would never look her way again. Six years ago he had left his home to get as far away from her as he possibly could, and in the process he had improved himself, making his way in the world of business. Now he owned vast lands that he used for farming maize – which was processed into maize meal that he then exported to neighbouring countries and traded domestically – and biodiesel. The latter was his passion, and researching it had taken him to lands far from South Africa, far enough away that he should have forgotten Lesedi. But he hadn’t forgotten her – no one seemed to come close to her.
Mogale sighed. He was still raw when it came to Lesedi, and now his father was making him revisit those feelings. He didn’t seem to care how he, Mogale, felt. To him and his advisors their marriage was simply one of convenience – a well-thought-out plan to bring together two clans that were forced to cohabit. More like bringing the Tshukudu people to heel, that’s how Mogale saw it. But his father refused to hear his arguments – after all, hadn’t Mogale planned to marry Lesedi six years earlier? But he didn’t want to marry her now, Mogale shouted in his mind, though he could tell his heart wasn’t convinced. And that’s where the source of his anger lay. Despite it all, he still wanted her, and he felt like a fool because he couldn’t help himself.
Lesedi lingered outside the door to the sitting room in which she knew Mogale was waiting for her. She had showered quickly and changed into a loose-fitting grey dress that showed little of her body. By avoiding wearing anything suggestive, she was trying to send him a signal – that she couldn’t marry him, no matter how much good it would do her people. This time she wasn’t going to carry anyone else’s burden on her shoulders.
Drawing a breath, Lesedi opened the door – and stopped dead in her tracks. There he stood in the middle of the room in a simple T-shirt and jeans, his hands balled up into fists at his sides. Though his face was averted from her, Mogale’s rage was obvious. A deluge of feelings surged within her and the reasons why she couldn’t marry him fled from her mind. It took all her self-control not to rush to him and beg him to hold her. She was gripped by an innate yearning to feel the taut muscles in his arms bind her to him and his balled-up hands spread out across her back to shackle her even closer to his chest. She felt weak, excited and fearful – fearful that he would easily see through her and know just how much power he had over her.
Mogale turned around, his eyes colliding with Lesedi’s. His breath caught in his throat as he drank her in. She was still as beautiful as he remembered. Her full lips, now parted, were inviting and it took everything in him not to close the distance between them.
Lesedi gasped loudly, her fingers tightening on the door handle as Mogale’s gaze burned across her body. She couldn’t remember him ever looking at her like this before, as though he could see every inch of her through her clothes. In that moment he was male and primitive; his masculine strength evident, his anger mixed with his need for her. Her breasts felt heavy and sensitive and all Lesedi could think of was him doing things to her that she’d never thought of any man doing.
Mogale took in her grey dress. Though ugly, it did not conceal anything; her luscious body was still there beneath it. His gaze travelled to her face. He felt his mouth dry. There in her eyes a need, a desire for him smouldered. A gut-wrenching feeling hit his loins. If he’d thought that she had brought him to his knees in his youth, he knew now that she was capable of making him grovel at her feet. At that thought he scowled.
“Hello, Lesedi, it’s nice to see you’re still well.”
Lesedi swallowed, not missing the edge to his voice. “I can’t marry you, Mogale,” she blurted out, still holding on to the door handle as though preparing to make her escape at any second.
Urged by something he didn’t understand, Mogale moved towards her. “Why? Am I still not good enough for you?” he asked.
Was that contempt in his voice?
“I . . . I never said that,” she stammered.
Then, before Lesedi knew what was happening, Mogale was centimetres from her, his dark eyes bearing a light that frightened and excited her at the same time. He pushed her against the nearest wall; she could feel the manly power within him, but his touch was remarkably gentle.
“If I remember correctly, you said you wouldn’t marry me even if I were the last man alive,” he said. And then his mouth was on hers, hard and demanding. His anger-laced desire lashed at her, drugging her senses, the fear she’d felt before dissipating as she instinctively pressed her tingling body to the hard wall of his chest.
Lesedi felt as if she was coming alive, that her body was being freed from the cocoon it had been trapped in. Guided by something intrinsic and uninhibited, she melted in Mogale’s arms, desire warming her, making her pliant to his touch. She kissed him back, sliding her full lips on his, taking his bottom lip between her teeth and biting into it gently.
Mogale deepened the kiss, passing his tongue into her mouth to trace the contours that beckoned there. She tasted sweet, spicy. This was his kind of woman, Mogale thought. She was his woman. He’d known that six years ago, and he knew it now. A desire so strong coursed through his veins that he groaned into her mouth. And in response a yearning sound escaped Lesedi’s lips. He could feel her clinging to him, her whole body surrendering to whatever he wanted to do.
“I guess we are all in agreement then . . .”
Mogale turned towards the booming voice, which came from the open doorway. His father was standing there with Lesedi’s father, her brother and the other people who had been part of the lobola negotiations. Instinctively Mogale shielded Lesedi from their curious eyes, even as he took in the looks on their faces that told him that their wish had come true. He felt Lesedi cringe beside him at the prospect of what all of this meant. She truly didn’t want to marry him, he realised. And though he didn’t want to acknowledge it, it hurt.
2
Lesedi bit her lower lip, feeling trapped – the darkness surrounding the car did nothing to improve her mood. She knew that she couldn’t live with Mogale, in the same house, let alone be his wife. Yet, even now, though he ignored her, she was aware of every move he made – especially his strong hands splayed across the steering wheel, seeming to caress it gently as he guided the car to its destination, his home in Pretoria. Despite his big frame Lesedi had learnt that Mogale could be gentle and silent, as he had been for almost the whole of the four weeks of the traditional wedding. Everyone from both clans had embraced the celebrations with gusto, everyone except the bride and groom, and deep down Lesedi knew that she couldn’t have made it through without him. He had even been supportive when her father had introduced a clause in the marriage agreement allowing that if either one of them couldn’t continue with the union it would be rendered null and void. Lesedi knew her father was doing it for her, and that Mogale didn’t have to agree to the clause, that it might be seen as an act of bad faith to engineer a way out of the marriage before it had even begun, but Mogale held firm. He had resolved to marry her out of loyalty to his clan and father. And though this meant there was no love between them, only duty, Lesedi understood. What they’d felt for each other six years ago had been replaced by what they had to do. Her father had said much the same thing: “Through duty comes peace, prosperity and wellbeing for the people.”
As these thoughts passed through her mind, Lesedi felt sad that her life had come to this. She wanted love. She had always dreamed that one day a man would come and sweep her off her feet. He’d be handsome and strong, and he’d take her breath away. And at that moment she’d always known that she’d be so much in love that she wouldn’t be able to deny him anything. Although she knew these dreams were naïve, she couldn’t help but cling to them. And six years ago she’d almost had her dream come true with Mogale – a real prince, in love with her, wanting to marry her. But
