Garry Courtney's lips moved. He hunched his shoulders and his head
SWUng slightly from side to side.
'Take it, Garry. Please take my hand. Sean tried silently to urge
him. Realizing the forbidding set of his own countenance, Sean forced
his lips into a smile. It was an uncertain thing that smile, it.
trembled a little at the corners of his mouth.
In response Garry's own lips relaxed and for a moment Sean saw the
terrible longing in his brother's eyes.
' It's been a long time, Garry. Much too long. ' Sean prodded forward
with his open right hand. 'Take it. Oh God, please make, him take
it.
Then Garry straightened. As he did so the toe of his right boot
scraped softly, awkwardly on the marble floor. The naked 'longing in
his eyes was glazed over, the corners of his mouth lifted upwards in
something close to a sneer.
'Sergeant,' his voice was too loud, too high. 'Sergeant, you are
incorrectly dressed!' Then he turned, pivoting on the dead leg, and
limped slowly away through the throng.
Sean stood with his hand still out and the smile frozen on his mouth.
You shouldn't have done that to us. We both wanted-I know you wanted
it as much as I, Sean let his hand fall empty to his side and balled it
into a fist.
'You know him?' Acheson asked softly.
'My brother.'
'I see,' Acheson murmured. He saw many things-and one of them was the
reason why Sean Courtney was still a sergeant.
Major Peterson coughed and lit a cigar. Mrs. Acheson touched the
General's arm. 'My dear, Daphne Langford arrived yesterday. There she
is with John-we must have them to dinner.
'Of course, my dear. I will ask them this evening. ' They turned
their attention on each other, giving Sean the respite he needed to
recover from his snubbing.
'Your glass is empty and so is mine, Courtney. I suggest we go on to
something more substantial than K's cooking champagne.
Brandy, fiery Cape brandy, very different from that soapy liquor they
make in France. A dangerous spirit to take in his present mood. And
only one mood was possible for Sean after what Garry had done to
him-cold, murderous rage.
His face was impassive, politely he responded to Mrs. Acheson's charm,
once he smiled at Candy across the room, but always he sent brandy
after brandy down to feed the rage that seethed in his belly; his eyes
followed the figure in dark blue as it limped from group to group.
The aide-de-camp who arranged the dinner seating could never have known
that Sean was a mere sergeant. As Mrs. Rautenbach's guest he believed
him to be an influential civilian and placed him high at the long
table, between Candy and Mrs. Acheson, with Majar Peterson below him
and a brigadier and two colonels opposite. One of the colonels was
Garrick Courtney.
Beneath the almost uninterrupted stare which Sean fastened on him,
