by Nancy Morse
“You?” she uttered in slow surprise. “I—I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me go on thinking we’d never met?”
“I wanted to tell you, but the doctor in Nairobi said it could cause more trauma, and I didn’t want to say anything that might jeopardize your recovery.”
“Where were you when I disappeared?”
“At the hotel, sleeping. When I woke up, you were gone.”
“Lentil crepes,” she muttered.
“You must have gone out to get us breakfast and stumbled across Thorpe and overheard his conversation with the Germans.”
With sudden clarity she said, “So, that’s what the desk clerk meant when he said you found me.”
“Yes. I searched everywhere, but it was as if you had disappeared off the face of the earth.”
“In a way I did,” she said weakly. It was indeed as if she had died, and it wasn’t until that first kiss in the kitchen that she began to live again. One random kiss in a moment of weakness had led to another, and then to shared intimacies.
“There’s more,” he said. “You told me about a dream you’ve been having. You said there’s a man who makes love to you and makes you feel like you’ve never felt before.”
She groaned aloud. “Oh, God. Why are you bringing that up? Now I’ll never know if he was real or just a figment of my imagination.”
“He is real. It’s me, Julia. I’m the man in your dream.”
“What are you talking about? I dreamed about him making love to me long before you and I made love.”
“Hell, I don’t know, maybe it’s some other man you’ve been dreaming about which would make me a bloody fool for thinking it’s me, but that night in the tent wasn’t the first time we made love.”
His stunning confession was met by a paralyzing silence that stretched on and on as Julia tried hard to process what she just heard. So much made sense to her now—the incredible thrill of being in his arms, the connection she felt with him from the start, the conflicted feelings of longing and familiarity.
“Are you saying that we…you and I…were—”
“Lovers. Yes.”
That would explain why being in his arms felt so right and why their bodies flowed so perfectly together. But what about feelings? Was it just an affair, a case of two people sexually attracted to each other? Or had it been more than that?
As if reading her tortured thoughts he said, “You told me you loved me.”
The fierce magnetism of Jonathan Shane provided little solace when she had no memory of him beyond the day he had rescued her from a pride of lions. “I don’t remember.”
Jonathan’s lips compressed into a thin line. He stared up at the twilight sky as the last vestige of hope seeped from his being. “And now?” he asked. “Do you feel anything for me now?”
In these past few weeks she had come to feel a part of this man, to even think herself in love with him. And now, with death stalking all around them, her heart burned with words she wanted to say. “Jonathan, I—”
“Quiet! Someone’s coming.”
From out of the bush two men appeared. Jonathan immediately recognized the tall, broad-shouldered white man who had held his arms back at the camp while the other man beat him.
The white man hurried up to them. “I’m Captain Reginald Ainsworth of the King’s African Rifles. This is my man.” He gestured to the native standing several feet behind him, black skin melting into the growing darkness.
Julia recognized the native’s red fez. “Jonathan, it’s the cook,” she said in a tense whisper.
“I say old chap, I’m terribly sorry I had to hold you back like that,” Ainsworth said as he drew his knife and cut them loose. “But I had to play along.”
Rubbing his jaw that was bruised and swollen, Jonathan scrutinized the Englishman. “How do I know you are who you say you are?”
“Would I be here right now helping you escape if I was one of those bloody murderers?”
Blue eyes narrowed upon him. “What are you doing with them?”
“My job,” the Englishman replied. “Most of my company is up in the protectorate. There’s a small contingent at Arusha. My man and I were assigned to keep an eye on the Germans. It’s too dangerous for you to remain here. I would suggest that you leave as quickly as possible.”
“Isn’t it dangerous for you to be here with only one askari backing you up?”
“Thorpe and the Germans think we’re working with them, so unless you blow our cover, we’re in no danger.”
“How’d you manage to slip out of camp without anyone noticing?”
“The Germans are busy loading the guns onto the lorry I drove here in. They plan to leave for Abyssinia tonight. But they don’t know their way around, especially in the dark. They need a driver. That’s where I come in. Little do they know I intend to drive them to the Rifles regiment on the northern frontier.”
“And Thorpe?”
“He and his henchman went back to the lorry to see if they can it going. It broke down on the way here and the Abyssinians had to carry the ivory to camp. If you ask me, they won’t be able to fix the thing. Thorpe wouldn’t risk getting his pretty white suit dirty, and that bloke he has with him is dumber than dirt. He left me behind to keep an eye on things. But you really do need to get out of here.”
“Not until I destroy that cache of ivory.”
The captain drew an impatient breath. “Very well. I can see there’s no arguing with you. Here. Maybe this will help.” From beneath his shirt he withdrew two sticks of dynamite. “Left over from the Lunatic Line.” He was referring to the railway linking Mombasa and Lake Victoria, the dubious nickname derived from the enormous cost, the shaky wooden trestles, the hostile tribes, the plagues of diseases, and man-eating lions devouring railway workers at night.
“Thanks,” said Jonathan. “I can use all the help I can get.”
“How you handle Thorpe is up to you. His motorcar is parked about half a kilometer to the east of camp. You can’t miss it. Scarlet with a lot of nickel. Must have cost a bloody fortune. Do you have a plan?”
“I’ve been after Thorpe for years, so I’ll deal with him first. When he gets to his car, I’ll be waiting for him.”
“Unarmed?”
“I was relieved of my weapon.”
Ainsworth pulled a pistol from the holster at his belt and handed it to Jonathan. “Now you have one.”
Jonathan tucked the pistol into his waistband. “This evens the playing field. After I’ve taken care of Thorpe I’ll double back and set the charges.”
“Don’t worry about the Abyssinians,” said Ainsworth. “They’re a bloodthirsty lot, but when they hear that explosion, they’ll scatter faster than a herd of impala running from hyenas.”
“And the other guy, the one that went with Thorpe to the lorry?” Jonathan questioned.
“I’ll take care of him.” He slung his rifle on his shoulder and turned to go. “Good luck to you and the pretty lady.”
“Captain.”
Ainsworth turned back around to see Jonathan’s outstretched hand
“I know what you risked by helping us,” Jonathan said. “Thank you, and good luck to you.”
When the captain and the cook disappeared back into the bush, Julia took a long, shuddering breath. “I thought we were going to die.”
He scooped up the rope they’d been bound with and said urgently, “Let’s get the hell out of here.” Grabbing her hand, he pulled her away. And whatever words they wanted to say to each other were left unspoken.
Chapter Twenty-One
The motorcar was where the captain in the King’s African Rifles said it would be.
Jonathan muttered an oath under his breath. “Would you look at that thing?” Casting a furtive glance around, he approached the vehicle. “Dusenberg, straight eight. They only made about a hundred and fifty of these things. It figures he’d have one of th
em.” He ran his hand over the scarlet chrome-nickel body. “These things are fast. Last year an American won the French Grand Prix in a Duesy.”
“Shouldn’t we be hiding or something?” Julia asked anxiously.
Jonathan glanced skyward. “We have a couple hours of daylight left. It will take them at least that long to figure out what has to be done.”
“Can the lorry be fixed?”
“Sure. If they remove the sump, pack the hole with kapok from the seat cushion, and hammer the buckled metal straight to seal the crack. They could bring down a zebra, strip off the fat, boil it, and pour it through a mosquito net into the engine. That would probably get it going again. Once they realize they can’t fix it themselves, Thorpe will most likely send his man back to camp where Ainsworth will be waiting for him, and he’ll come here, where I’ll be waiting.”
Julia recognized the determined, sulfurous look in those blue eyes. “What are you going to do?”
“Whatever I have to.”
“Jonathan, what if something happens to you?”
“Get back to Thorpe’s camp as fast as possible. Captain Ainsworth can protect you”
“I wasn’t thinking of me,” she said. “I was thinking of you. If anything happened to you—”
His mouth curved up at one corner. “When I faced that lion, you were worried about yourself. Now you’re worried about me. Does that mean you’re beginning to feel something for me?”
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. What could she say? From what he’d told her, she’d been in love with him back then, and she had strong feeling for him now, yet she had not failed to notice that he had said nothing about being in love with her.
She gazed up at him. His features were etched against the flickering light. The wind rustled his hair, tossing sandy brown locks across his forehead. He seemed so much a part of his surroundings, beautiful, compelling, dangerous, and vulnerable to forces beyond his control. The bruise at his jaw roughened his appeal. She reached up and lightly touched it. “Does it hurt?” she asked when he winced.
“A little.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“A kiss might help take my mind off the pain.”
She raised herself on tiptoes and leaned against him. Cupping his face in her hands, she brought it toward hers. Her eyes closed, lashes brushing downward as his arm slid around her waist.
The kiss was gentle at first, a slow, tentative meeting of lips. His arm tightened as his mouth moved over the outline of hers, tasting, teeth softly nibbling. The kiss deepened and filled with urgency, driving out everything except the flame that blazed hotly between them.
She felt his body’s excitement pressing against her and stirred her hips with a provocative response, knowing that if he led her now to a secluded spot, she would have gone willingly and reveled in their glorious lovemaking despite the danger that lurked all around them.
But he didn’t lead her away. He made a soft sound of pleasure and drew his lips from hers. Pressing his forehead to hers, he said, “Not here. Not now. Let’s save it for later.”
She fell against him, holding him tight, wanting nothing more than to cherish his bigness and take him to her very soul. “Will there be a later?” Her voice was husky and broken with fear.
He tucked her quivering head beneath his chin. “There damn well better be.” He held her like that for a few moments more, then gave her a last famished kiss and said, “Let’s find a tree for you to climb.”
He spotted a flat-topped acacia tree with a limb that had been dragged low by elephants, and cupping his hands, he hoisted her into it. From the ground he watched her shimmy along the limb. Only when she was concealed in the canopy and he was assured of her safety did he leave.
Back at the Dusenberg Jonathan settled himself into the tall, dry grass, tense and alert, to wait and to think. For the first time since learning about Julia’s amnesia a faint flicker of hope spliced the darkness of his despair. Maybe she would never remember what they shared previously, but they’d been through so much together on this trip, surviving against the odds, sharing laughter and intimacies. Over these past few weeks she’d come to know him for the man he was, and that had to mean something. Did the love she once felt for him reside somewhere deep down inside where it lay waiting to awaken from its long slumber?
He longed to tell her how much he loved her, but kept his silence for fear that she wasn’t ready to hear it. Then again, he’d told her once before and his heart had been broken. As he lay in the grass waiting for Roger Thorpe, he wasn’t sure if it was for her benefit or for his that the words remained locked inside of him. He didn’t know what the outcome of his confrontation with Roger Thorpe would be, but he swore to himself that if he made it out of this mess alive, he would tell her that he loved her.
He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and dream of the past, how it used to be between them, the sweet hunger for each other, the promises whispered in the night, the gentle kisses, the urgent caresses, the look of love shining in her eyes. He wished there was some way to turn back the clock and thought of all the things he would have done differently, starting with the day she appeared at his door. If only he hadn’t agreed to take her to photograph the ivory cache. If only he hadn’t let her slip out of his arms and out of bed the day she disappeared. If only he hadn’t fallen madly in love with a woman who didn’t remember him. But all the ‘if only’s” in the world mattered little in the fact of what was.
The minutes ticked tediously by. Overhead, the sun began a slow descent over the western hills in the distance. Soon the lions would be rising from their daylong slumber to hunt. Just because he and Julia were spared the gruesome death of being torn apart by lions while tied to a tree didn’t mean the danger had passed. But now it was of the human kind.
Where the hell was Thorpe? Had he miscalculated what Thorpe’s next move would be? Maybe he should fetch Julia down from the acacia tree and take the captain’s advice and get out of there. He lifted his head to look over the tall grass. The sun’s last rays bounced off the scarlet body of the Dusenberg. If he took it, they could be in Arusha by nightfall and on their way back to the protectorate before Thorpe knew what happened. The Dusenberg, and the authorities, would be waiting for Thorpe when he arrived in Nairobi.
The sound of footsteps scuffling through the bush brought Jonathan’s thoughts to a screeching halt. At first there was only a shadow, but then he recognized the white-suited form that approached the Dusenberg.
“Going somewhere?”
Roger Thorpe whirled around at the voice that rumbled from behind him.
“Surprised to see me, Thorpe?” Jonathan raised his revolver and took aim, his finger on the trigger.
Thorpe’s eyes narrowed into menacing slits. “You won’t get away with this, Shane,” he said with a snarl. “My men will be here any minute.”
Jonathan stepped out of the grass. “Nice try,” he said as he approached, “but I don’t think so. The one who went with you to the lorry is indisposed,” Jonathan said, remembering that the captain had promised to take care of him. “And the other one should be on his way to Abyssinia with the Germans,” he added, perpetuating the lie rather than reveal where the captain was really taking them. “I’ll take this.” He slipped Thorpe’s Webley out of its holster and tossed it out of reach.
“Where’s the Yank?” Thorpe asked, scanning the area.
“Let’s just say she’s not in the belly of a lion.”
“You’ve been a thorn in my side for years,” Thorpe hissed. “You and your bloody conservation efforts.”
“I’ve got you dead to rights now, though, haven’t I?”
“What are you going to do?”
“I have no intention of feeding you to the lions, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m taking you back to Arusha to let the authorities deal with you. I doubt they’ll look kindly on your gun sales to the Germans. It looks like prison for you. Al
though from what I’ve heard, being eaten by lions might be preferable.”
“Look, Shane, maybe we can make a deal.”
“I don’t make deals with murderers.”
“What are you talking about? I haven’t killed anyone,” Thorpe protested.
“What do you call all those elephants you had killed for their ivory?”
“I’m a businessman. You can understand that, can’t you? This drought must be putting your coffee farm in jeopardy. I can give you enough cash so that you’ll never have to look at another coffee plant again.”
Jonathan’s blue eyes darkened to frosty shadows. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I like growing coffee? Now, shut up and turn around.”
Jonathan had no choice but to tuck his revolver into the waistband of his pants so he’d have use of both hands with which to tie up Thorpe. “Don’t make a move or I’ll do to you what your lackey did to me,” he warned. “Only I won’t stop.”
He lashed the rope around Thorpe’s wrists and was about to tighten the knot when he caught the strong, acrid scent of elephant. Suddenly, a big bull came crashing through the trees, trunk up, ears spread wide, screaming in anger. The bull advanced.
“Shoot him!” Thorpe cried.
Jonathan unleashed an oath as he pulled the revolver out of his waistband. Even if he did shoot, a bullet from the revolver wasn’t likely to stop the charge. Another scream, this one louder than the last, caught the attention of the herd that was grazing not far off in the bush. With a rumble that sounded like thunder, the herd left. At first, the big bull seemed surprised that his cronies had deserted him. Then, as if thinking twice about being left behind, he turned and tore back through the bush, uprooting everything in his angry path, leaving a swath of crumbled vegetation and mangled roots.
As he watched him go, Jonathan heaved a sigh of relief at the close call, knowing that if the big bull had charged, there wouldn’t be much left of them to scrape up off the ground. He made a half turn back toward Thorpe when he felt the broadsided blow of the other man’s body striking his.
