The Reluctant Princess. Kholo Matsha
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his hands off her. A weakness he didn’t take kindly to. Even now she stirred him in her sleep. Mogale huffed out a frustrated breath, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly. How he could want a woman who didn’t want him was beyond him. His heart contracted at the thought, the pain that came with it taking him by surprise. He should stop being sentimental, he berated himself. He’d keep his distance from her, and with time they would see that it wouldn’t have worked anyway. And with that Mogale turned his eyes back to the road.
Three hours later they arrived at Mogale’s property. High up above the arched gates was a board proclaiming boldly Batloung Estate. Driving in, they passed pine trees that lined the long driveway on both sides. At the end of it they came to a massive house, which, despite its size, had a homely feel. Low welcoming lights illuminated its high-rising walls. Greenery dotted open spaces.
Mogale stopped at the front steps, admiring the comfortable simplicity of the house. He wondered what Lesedi would think of it. Suddenly it occurred to him that all the years he had struggled to improve himself and worked hard to earn a place in society, not just because he was a prince by birth, he’d wanted to be worthy in Lesedi’s eyes, and that one day she’d . . . She’d what?
A bitter taste filled his mouth. Well, he knew the answer to that now.
Getting out of the car, Mogale went to unlock the door and quickly disarmed the alarm. Then he went to her side and opened the door. He scooped her sleeping form up into his arms. Her body was soft and womanly and a sweet natural scent drifted into his nostrils, tempting him to bury his nose in the space where her shoulder met her neck. Resisting the urge, he directed his steps towards the house. She was just the right size for this; her body fitted snugly into his arms as though she could stay there forever.
In the guest bedroom Mogale was about to gently put Lesedi down on the bed when she stirred and woke up with a start. His arms involuntarily tightened around her and for a second she sighed as though accepting his touch. That pulled at him. Mogale leaned in close to her; their eyes locked, they recognised the desire reflected there. Their breath mingled. He breathed in her scent.
Lesedi experienced a moment of panic as she lost control of her body. “I think I can manage from here,” she said, standing up quickly, her voice small and groggy.
“Yes, of course.” The sarcasm in Mogale’s voice was barely concealed – all that was left was for him to call her “your highness”.
Mogale left her standing in the middle of the room. Lesedi wrapped her arms around her waist as though to preserve herself from the irresistible attraction that blazed into life whenever he was close. She didn’t even look at the room, afraid to discover it to be the master bedroom – she didn’t think she was ready for that, ready for him.
At that moment Mogale came in with her luggage. Lesedi looked at him and wondered what he was thinking, but to her disappointment he placed her luggage next to the bed and said good night.
Lesedi watched his retreating back, unsure if she was sad or relieved. Then, picking up her handbag from the floor, she searched for her cellphone and made a quick call to Phetana. She felt like talking.
“Hello?” Phetana sounded half-asleep.
Lesedi checked her wristwatch – it was past midnight. “Sorry, I’ve woken you.” Lesedi sat down on the bed.
“Oh, I was expecting your call. So how is the prince treating you? Wow, I still can’t believe you’re married to Mogale. All those years you waited for him were not in vain. You finally have him, girl!” Phetana gave a gleeful yelp.
“I never waited for him.”
“Of course you did, even if you never said a word about him. Lesedi, you waited for him and you know it. Six years and there was never a guy you were interested in – if that’s not waiting, I don’t know what is. You must have been dreaming that he’d come charging back into your life to marry you.” Phetana whooped again.
“But he didn’t do that now, did he?” Lesedi flopped backwards onto the bed. Not that she would ever admit it to Phetana, but stupid as she was, she had dreamt of that very thing. In her dreams his handsome face had radiated love, his lips had spread wide in a smile, he had spoken honey-coated words that had taken her breath away. “If it wasn’t for his father wanting to reconcile our people, he wouldn’t have come for me no matter how much I might have wanted him to,” she said, suddenly feeling tired.
“Lesedi, just show him you love him. You do love him, don’t you?”
“I never stopped.”
“So?”
“I can’t do that. I don’t think I can handle my love being thrown back in my face again. Once was enough.”
“Oh, Lesedi . . .”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I just need to find something to do, that’s all.”
“Haven’t you forgotten something?” The excitement was back in Phetana’s voice.
“What?” Lesedi asked, not really caring.
“The outreach programme! Now that you’re married to him you can easily ask . . .”
Lesedi suddenly sat upright. Her life had been so stormy for the past four weeks that she had forgotten all about the outreach programme. Had she packed her paperwork? She would have to check. Would he agree? She mulled the idea over in her mind. She’d never thought to ask anything from him, and now that she had to, she didn’t know how to broach the subject.
“Now that I think of it, Lesedi,” Phetana continued, “you two would have found each other anyway. You were going to call him.”
“I wouldn’t have called him. I was thinking of finding other sponsors,” Lesedi said stubbornly. “And even if I had called him, it doesn’t mean he would have accepted my proposal.”
“Regardless. You know, love doesn’t happen when you deny it even though you want it to happen,” Phetana chided her gently. “To love, one has to find courage.”
“Whoever said that forgot to say that love hurts, especially when you discover that what you took for courage was foolishness,” Lesedi said.
“Don’t they say that only fools fall in love?”
“Then I think I’ll be a clever fool,” Lesedi added stubbornly.
“I already miss you, girlfriend.” Phetana cracked another laugh, and Lesedi joined in. “And please call your brother. He’s worried about you.”
“How do you . . . ? Never mind, I’ll call him tomorrow. Good night.”
“Night.”
Lesedi ended the call, kicked off her shoes and stretched out to her full length on the bed. Her mind wandered to where Mogale might be, what he might be doing. His face lingered in her mind, his eyes filled with a desire she feared she would all too easily succumb to, as sleep overtook her.
* * *
In the morning Lesedi woke to a cool breeze caressing her face. She experienced a moment of disorientation before she remembered where she was. As soon as she did, Mogale immediately came to mind, but she opted to ignore him and the feelings that charged her body. Whimsically, her eyes drifted around, taking in her surroundings for the first time. The walls of the room were painted a cream colour that created an airy feel, prompting the occupant to relax. The furniture echoed the décor – everything looked expensive, but also comfortable and inviting. Beautiful, Lesedi thought, just like the man who owned it.
Did he own her too? the thought popped into her mind, pricking her sense of independence. For a black man marriage meant ownership; the mere fact that he’d paid lobola meant that he had bought her. So did he own her? She didn’t want to know the answer. Duty bound her to him.
Lesedi continued with her perusal of her surroundings, opting to occupy her mind with things other than Mogale. She turned to the window. The morning