Loving Graystoke's Heir (Howls Romance)

by Reina Torres

  “You really do care for him.”

  She nodded. “He’s my… he was my best friend.”

  “More than that,” the older man gestured for someone just out of sight, a younger man with an easy gait and sharp eyes. He listened intently to the older man and disappeared into the back of the home as quietly as he came. “Friends, yes. That is easy enough to see, but there is more reason for your search than just the welfare of a friend. You’re looking for answers.”

  Apparently, Mzamo’s eyes missed nothing.

  Smiling, she tried to set aside the odd feeling that she was revealing more than she had intended. “Of course. Aren’t we all?”

  “I hope you will find them.” His tone and his expression were genuine.

  She felt a deep gratitude toward the older man. “I finally feel like I’m getting somewhere.”

  He nodded. “And to help you on your journey, I can give you one answer now. Your friend, he is alive, but if you find him, you will find him… much changed.”

  Tamsin was shaken to the core. “Wait, what are you saying?”

  It seemed that Mzamo was done with the subject for the moment. He looked at Magheli. “Take her to the Bandile camp tomorrow. From there, it will be up to her and to her… friend.”

  Even with the flood of elation coursing through her veins, she didn’t miss the change in Magheli’s posture, or the spark of recognition in his eyes.

  A silent communication passed between the two men before Mzamo stood and braced his hands on the tabletop. “Remember,” his voice was flat even though his gaze was heavy with meaning, “my daughter has made her decision. Abide by that and you will continue to be welcome here.” He addressed them both a moment later. “We will eat soon, and then you will stay here if you wish. It will make your journey easier.”

  Stunned at his generosity, Tamsin barely managed to offer her thanks in Mzamo’s own tongue. “Ngiyabonga, Mzamo.”

  His smile was well worth the effort. “And you, Miss. You are most welcome. I wish you well.”

  Donal felt his skin pull and stretch over his muscles. He had accepted the offer of a mosquito net from the Bandile, but he had no real need for it. The women would have the tents, and he would pass the evening in his own way, under the stars.

  Their evening meal had been a somber affair. They had traveled many miles, following the well-worn roads that the safari companies followed over and over, but they had also kept watch for the tracks that ventured off the roads.

  There were few of those, thankfully. Ever since the Bandile had begun their efforts years before, wanton poaching had all but disappeared. Those men, and yes, some women, who had once littered the miles with carcasses and refuse had either given up their pursuits, or had found other means to procure their trophies.

  He knew he couldn’t stop all of the illegal poaching, or the trophy hunters determined to experience a hunt in the wilds of Africa, but he could do his best and would continue to do so as long as there was breath in his body.

  A soft shuffle of noise caught his attention. The catch and brush of leaves and limbs in the shadows were a familiar sound at times, but this close to the Bandile camp, Donal wasn’t used to the sudden rush of sound.

  The noises lower in the brush were full of boisterous energy, but slower and heavier higher up in the lush vegetation.

  With a smile he sat still at the edge of the temporary over-night camp and waited.

  The first visitor that entered his peripheral vision was magnificent. The female gorilla was beyond her adolescent years and had raised three of her own babies before she moved to this area of the park.

  Donal didn’t want to rush her by looking in her direction. She was likely to take a playful swing in his direction. She may not be a male, but she had some physical behaviors that were seen in wild males. Her mother had long ago given up trying to correct her odd behavior, instead, pointing to him or the girl’s father as the guilty parties.

  When she continued to sit in silence, Donal mirrored her activity until a frantic crash of limbs and leaves between them produced youthful gorillas acting very much like their human contemporaries. At two years old, they were more than a handful and knew how loved and valued they were among their own.

  And Donal was one of their own.

  As soon as the two noticed that Donal was near, they stopped wrestling with each other and began to climb.

  He had no idea which one had laid their head on top of his own and which one had to be satisfied with slipping off his shoulder and wrapping long, gangly arms around his neck.

  It didn’t really matter to him. He had a hand for each and was occupied for a moment as he tried to greet both of them at the same time and keep his fingers from their mouths. They might be youthful children by chronological age, but they were stronger than most humans. He knew they wouldn’t draw blood with their playful movements, but their jaws were strong enough to snap some of his finger bones if they got wrapped up in their fun.

  Reaching down into part of himself that was mostly instinct and pure, unadulterated life, Donal shifted his body from that of a human to his other natural state, a gorilla. The shift barely required any effort after going through the physical change thousands of times.

  He felt the satisfaction of his gorilla and the strength that flowed between them at their most elemental level. It was hard to remember that at one point in his life he thought he was going crazy because of the sensations that had twisted his body beneath his skin and the distinct personality that had begged for release.

  Donal sat back and relaxed into the sensation of family.

  The two toddlers had barely noticed the change. They were so used to his form shifting that they just continued to play. One minute they were atop a man, broader and taller than his original form, and then a moment later, they were swinging from a massive arm or climbing up and down the broad sweep of a silverback’s form.

  Either way, the two were enjoying themselves.

  They were too young for the dark cares that he sensed had brought his sister out of seclusion. She was not a fan of humans beyond Donal, and he didn’t blame her. Poachers had killed her mother and brought her into his life.

  Donal listened into the conversation between the two, his gorilla and the female they both loved as family.

  The recent uptick in poaching hadn’t gone unnoticed in the wild. In fact, the animals always knew before the humans. It was one of the reasons he never brought a tent along on his patrols with the Bandile. He needed the excuse to remain outside and with that proximity he could commune and converse with the very animals they were trying to protect.

  Poachers, well-funded and well-armed.

  Their vehicles lacked the prominently displayed logos of tour companies and the air around them was always inundated with the stench of wasted blood. Even from his place within the body of his gorilla, Donal could smell the evil that the two spoke of.

  It made him sick, roiling his stomach, but he took deep, purposeful, indrawn breaths of the scent. He wasn’t much of a tracker in his human form, not the way he was as a gorilla, but his sense of smell was still many, many times better than that of a human.

  As their conversation continued, Donal let his mind wander and slowly drift off to sleep. There was much that he would have to do as soon as dawn spilled out onto the ground, until then it was better for him to sleep.

  But sleep offered him little in the way of rest.

  Donal may have left the town and returned to the preserve ahead of time to escape Tamsin’s search, he still found her waiting for him in his dreams. There, he could not run from her warm and giving touch or the soft sighs from her lips. No, he may have only had a night physically in her arms, but he’d lived every night since with her memory and her love filling his soul.

  He owed her his life.

  Her memory had given him the strength to fight and stay alive when he had been convinced he should end it all, but he knew that the separation he’d put between them w
ould need to stay if he wanted to give her the gift of life as well.

  Donal fell into a deep sleep with her voice echoing in his heart, where she’d always been.

  Chapter Four

  When the women exited their tent the next morning, they found the rest of camp packed and ready to go. It was Thabisa who spoke first. “There better be coffee, Sifiso.”

  Laughing, Donal nodded at the stove. “I am quite aware of what would happen if I didn’t have that ready.”

  Amahle’s smile was infectious. “I have to wonder why you have a smile this early in the morning.” She swept her gaze over the camp. “What were you doing all night?”

  Picking up a bowl of phutu, Thabisa sat down on the back bumper of their vehicle to eat her porridge. “I heard some noise in the underbrush. Did you see anything in the area?”

  Donal didn’t want to tell them he was some of the noise in the underbrush. “I saw a few gorillas in the night, but that was all.” He took a bowl from Amahle’s hand and gave her a thankful smile. “I did take some time to do some scouting in the area.”

  “You went out on your own?” Zenzile hissed after her first sip of coffee before blowing lightly over the surface. “Perhaps you forgot that the four of us are on patrol together.”

  He swallowed a spoonful of the porridge and set the wooden spoon back into the bowl as the other women focused their gazes on him. “I didn’t forget. Like you said,” he nodded at Thabisa, “there was noise in the brush and more nearby. It made sense to go and look.”

  Amahle was one who liked to be the peacemaker in the group. “And he didn’t go after anyone in the dark. He did some scouting.”

  Donal shared a smile with her. “I’ve got a good idea of where we can find the hunters. Once you’ve all had a bite to eat-”

  Zenzile pulled the bowl from his hand and started walking toward the jeep. “You can eat on patrol.”

  Thabisa’s look told him that she thought he was getting off easy and he almost agreed with her. If any of them had known what he was really doing in the dark, they would not be so easy with him. In fact, they might not be willing to patrol with him at all.

  He heard the laughter echoing inside his head.

  They might surprise you.

  I don’t need your two cents.

  Is it worth so little?

  It would be more if I wasn’t going hungry.

  The laughter grew louder as he followed Zenzile to the jeep. She just might let him drive when she admitted she was hungry.

  If she admits it.

  Donal couldn’t agree with his gorilla more. He also understood the need to get on the road. He knew the hunters were out there, but he also knew that the four of them couldn’t run on empty. The camp sites they had seen before, on other patrols, were usually littered with empty bottles of alcohol. The hunters that paid to kill for trophies and those that poached animals for money rarely took care to eat or sleep. They were likely still sprawled out in their tents and would probably wake up with hangovers. They would find them soon, if not in the next few hours.

  His gorilla’s sojourn into the brush had shown him the direction to take and he’d smelled the scent of senseless death in the air. If he thought that they had a live animal in their camp he would have gone further. He would have gone after them himself, but what they’d shot, they had killed and butchered.

  Donal let that knowledge fuel his anger, but also his determination to bring this particular group of men to justice for their special brand of evil.

  Climbing into the back of the jeep, Donal accepted the bowl back from Zenzile. The sharp points at the ends of her smile brought an answering grin from him.

  “This is going to be a good hunt today.”

  He nodded in return. “I know it will be.”

  For Tamsin, it turned out that staying through the night had been one of her best nights in a long time. Back in America, her nights were solitary. Her thoughts, preoccupied. Her heart, heavy and filled with worry.

  In Mzamo’s village, the people had stayed up late, making their guests feel welcome even though they had arrived uninvited. The children had all been a joy, rushing about with excited faces and a thrum of activity until the adults got them to settle down. There were enough villagers who had a workable knowledge and control of the English language to communicate with her, and Tamsin had been exceedingly grateful.

  She had more knowledge of conversational phrases in Afrikaans, as much of her communication had been with those who spoke that language, but in Mzamo’s village, the Zulu spoke their own language.

  Still, where there was a will and open hearts, communication thrived. The women lent her clothes and two sisters had taken her to their home when it was time to turn in, but it had been over an hour before they fell asleep to soft laughter and their makeshift conversation.

  The next morning, as they were leaving the village it seemed that all the children had slept well and were out in force. They all wiggled forward to the front of the group to touch her hand or get a hug and even though she had only been there for less than twenty-four hours, she felt as if she was leaving a part of herself behind in the village.

  “Hey,” Magheli nudged her shoulder, “having second thoughts about heading off into the wild with a reprobate like me?”

  She looked up at him with a crooked smile. “Sounds like you’ve been listening to Mzamo.”

  He shook his head. “His daughter. She has quite the vocabulary when she’s mad.”

  That was telling. “And you’ve had a few occasions to make her mad, huh?”

  His smile wavered a bit, but his eyes flashed with humor. “I feel like we’re old friends. You know me so well.”

  “No,” she shook her head, “but I think you’re the kind of guy who can really get under someone’s skin.”

  “Are we talking about your friend Donal?”

  “No.” She climbed into the jeep and waved at the shifting mass of children as they retreated from the vehicle. “We are not talking about him.”

  “Hmm.”

  He started the engine and waved at Mzamo. The older man waved at both of them and then retreated into his home.

  Leaning toward Tamsin, Magheli lowered his voice to something like a whisper. “Well, then you better figure out something to talk about, it’s going to be quite a drive.”

  She leaned back in her seat and sighed. “And they say women like to talk too much.”

  Magheli looked at her and then turned back to look out through the windshield. “I know why Mzamo likes you so much.”

  She leaned her arm on the open window frame in the side door and turned her head to look at him. “Why? What’s that?”

  His smile had a tight twist at the corner of his mouth. “You remind me of his daughter. Heaven help Donal when you find him.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  Reaching over to the center console, Magheli pushed a button on the stereo and waited for the first few notes of the song to start before he answered her question.

  “Because, I think he’s in real trouble, Miss Ellery. You’re going to turn him inside out.”

  She laughed and felt a good amount of tension bleed from her shoulders. “You know what, Magheli? I think you and I might get along after all.”

  Tamsin saw him wince.

  “Why do I feel like that might be a curse instead of praise?”

  “Ha!” Her laughter was full and free. “Now, I know we’re going to get along. So, tell me, how did you meet Zenzile?”

  He groaned and shook his head. “Can we just sit in silence?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry, but no. You’re the one who wanted to talk.”

  His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Not about my trouble. I wanted to hear about yours.”

  It sounded like the beginnings of a decent argument. “Fine,” she sighed. “We’ll start with yours first.”

  There was little to do but drive back to camp. Thabisa had denied a reason to return, but
Zenzile and Donal weren’t going to let it go. Even as they came within a few miles, their friend was making the case for a quick turnaround.

  “We’ll leave our guest at the camp, change my bandage, and we can go back out and find the others.”

  Their guest, as Thabisa referred to him, gave her a scathing look. It was pretty much all he could do since he’d been securely tied up in the back of the jeep, his hands and feet bound with the same rope and a kerchief tied around his head as a gag.

  “I’ll be fine after a new bandage,” she reiterated. “If we go back quickly, we’ll be able to get the rest of them.”

  Grunting into his gag, the hunter’s words were muffled, but his eyes blazed with anger.

  Donal looked at the bandage around Thabisa’s arm and shook his head. “You’re going to need much more than just changing a bandage. You’ll have one of the medical volunteers take a look, and if they say you need more care, then that’s what you’ll do.”

  He caught her irritated glance and smiled.

  “You should know by now that I don’t scare with just a look.”

  Thabisa’s eyes dipped to his waist and he laughed. “Okay, that’s not fair.”

  Zenzile reached back and gave her friend a fist bump. “You never should have told us that you were ticklish, Sifiso. You can’t tell a woman-”

  “A group of women,” Amahle interjected.

  “That’s right,” Zenzile met her eyes in the rear-view mirror, “a group of women, and expect us to ignore the perfect way to get you to do our bidding.”

  Donal shook his head. “You know I’d help you no matter what. Tickling me is just torture and inhumane.”

  Thabisa scoffed. “With as much time as you’ve been in the wild, Sifiso, you’re likely more animal than human anyway.”

  He couldn’t help the sudden loss of color, or heat, in his face. Without intending to, his friend had touched upon the very secret he was hiding from them.