To Love, Honour and Disobey

by Natalie Anderson

  ‘My mother’s brother and his wife.’

  Seb walked slowly beside her, wary about asking the obvious but unable to resist. ‘Are they nice?’

  She stopped walking. ‘You really want to know, Seb?’

  He nodded.

  She shook her head. ‘I was the stereotypical lonely orphan. They already had two children of their own—perfect little blonde things. I just didn’t fit in. Could never make the grade. And I was grieving. I guess I made it difficult for them right from the start. I closed up. I was hard work.’

  She was smiling, a touch of sarcasm acting as cover-up, but Seb got the glimpse of a pain that just had to run deep. ‘You were six. You had a right to grieve. You were lost. They should have found you.’

  She should have been brought safely home. And Seb understood what it was not to be wanted—hadn’t he had that vibe from a step-parent or two? ‘Did it get better? Did you get on with your cousins?’

  ‘Not really.’

  It had got worse, huh?

  ‘I left home as soon as I could.’

  Definitely worse.

  ‘What about you? You have brothers and sisters?’

  Seb hesitated. Where to begin on any of that nightmare? Yeah, he knew how hard it was to try to get along with other kids you had nothing in common with but that you had to live with because of the adults in your life. In his case it was because of the marriages—and remarriages—of his parents. But that was too big a can of worms and he went for the easy option. ‘No.’ He looked at her, waited for her to look at him. ‘Jeez, we really didn’t know each other at all, did we?’

  She held his gaze for a moment. Then laughed and turned away. ‘I don’t think we wanted to. I think we were both too happy in our own la-la lands.’

  He laughed at that. It was true. It had been such madness. ‘But it was good, wasn’t it?’ He couldn’t resist pointing it out. ‘What we did have.’

  There was a slight rise of her shoulders—and a total avoidance of answer. As a result he was compelled by the need to press her for more. ‘So why did you come to Africa? Did you send the divorce papers and then run away?’ That was a talent of hers, wasn’t it—running away?

  ‘I didn’t run away. I wanted an adventure. One that I was in control of.’

  As opposed to the adventure they’d had together? The one in which neither of them had been in control? ‘Were you going to see me when you got back?’

  ‘No.’

  She’d sent him the divorce papers, a brief note outlining her plans and asking for the paperwork to be sent to her new lawyer. She hadn’t wanted to see him; she’d hoped he’d simply sign and send it all away. ‘You’re a coward, Ana.’

  She was silent for a moment. Then he saw her chin go up. ‘I was. For a long time I was,’ she agreed quietly. ‘But I’m not any more.’

  Ana spent the late afternoon reading in the shade and ignoring the football game Seb had organised amongst the lads. She didn’t need reminding of how fit he was. She was already spending far too much time thinking of his incredible sex drive.

  But at dinner he sat beside her and made her converse—asked her about other highlights of the Africa trip, about what she’d seen and done. Safe topics. And yet not safe—because it was so easy to smile, to laugh, to relax. And as darkness swooped the conversation lengthened, deepened until she lost track of time.

  She didn’t sleep much through the night—conscious of him lying only yards away outside. She woke early, hot and bothered, and sat inside the tent to control her hormones and fast-beating heart. It wasn’t just his physical proximity, it was the talking-with-him thing too. It made him all the more attractive. What she needed was some confidence. Some ‘don’t think you can mess with me’ attitude. She delved deep into the bottom of her pack and resolutely strapped on the ridiculous shoes she’d lugged round for weeks. She couldn’t believe she’d brought them with her, nor that she was actually going to wear them now. But it was a desperate situation. Something about Seb made her want to have the guts to wear them and get away with it. He thought she wasn’t too tall? She’d show him.

  He noticed them right away. ‘Oh, they’re so appropriate, aren’t they? High heels on safari.’

  ‘Yes, they are.’ She took up the challenge. ‘You don’t like how tall they make me?’

  He shrugged, arrogantly uncaring. ‘I’m still taller than you.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘One day I’ll find a pair that’ll make me taller than you.’

  ‘Try the circus—they have stilts there.’

  ‘You’re not afraid of looking up to me?’

  ‘Your height doesn’t intimidate me.’ He grinned. ‘It’s actually quite interesting.’ He leaned and dropped his voice to seduction volume. ‘A good fit where it counts. No need for me to be a contortionist.’

  Oh, now there was a thought. It was too easy to go over the line with him. And she went one further, provocatively leaning closer, a mere millimetre from contact, registering with pleasure the widening of his eyes. ‘Want to know the best thing about these shoes?’

  His mouth opened but no sound emerged.

  She smiled. ‘The heels are really good for treading on toes when someone gets too close.’ She pulled back and flicked a cool look at him.

  His eyes narrowed. ‘I consider myself warned.’

  ‘Great.’ She turned and positively strutted away, hiding the grin of victory.

  They climbed back into the Jeeps and drove down the rocky road into the crater—one of the world’s natural heritage sites. It was a trip she’d been looking forward to for ages and despite only a few hours’ broken sleep she was determined to make the most of it—damned if she was going to let her chaotic hormones ruin it.

  They drove onto the floor of the crater, stood up in the roofless Jeep to get a better view of the abundance of animals. In the magnificence she forgot her fight with him—and herself.

  ‘What’s your inner beast, Seb? Lion? Oh, no, I know.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘Cheetah.’

  He shot her a look. ‘No. Elephant.’

  ‘What,’ she asked innocently, ‘because of your big trunk?’

  ‘Thanks for the compliment, sweetheart, but no. My memory. I might not have known much about you, Ana, but what I did learn I’ve never forgotten.’ He leaned and whispered into her ear. ‘I remember what you like. I remember how you like it—how fast, how deep, how often.’

  Desire gushed into her belly at his boldness. Knew it was payback for her heeled-shoes moment.

  ‘You know what kind of animal you are?’ He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  ‘Don’t you dare say giraffe.’ She reminded herself to breathe.

  ‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘I was thinking more along the lines of a gazelle.’

  And she was in trouble again when he looked at her like that. ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’ She was a giraffe—all tall angles and gangly. Not remotely like one of those nimble, petite, pretty things.

  ‘No, I mean it. Jumpy.’ He seemed to be closer still. ‘Skittish. Takes fright.’

  ‘I don’t take fright.’ She inched back further against the hard railing of the Jeep.

  ‘Yes, you do,’ he said softly. ‘That’s OK. I’m patient enough to stalk my prey.’

  She refused to be his prey. ‘Elephants are vegetarians.’

  ‘Well, then, I guess I must really be a lion.’

  Ana lifted her chin. ‘Actually more often it’s the lioness who hunts.’

  ‘Really? Go on, then,’ he murmured. ‘Show me your claws.’

  She pulled the last millimetre she could away.

  ‘See. I was right first time.’ Somehow he took up even more of the cramped space. ‘A little, jumpy gazelle.’

  She sucked her tummy in and spun on the spot, turned her back to him to lean forward over the rail, determinedly focused on the view. No more verbal sparring—he always seemed to win.

  She breathed in the sights: the flamingos in
the distance on the lake, the hippos hanging out in the water, the hyenas creepily stalking around. And he seemed to let it lie. Pointed out shots for her, took pictures of her. Grinned with her when they found the lion, stretched in the shade, who didn’t seem to care about the humans standing up in the open-topped Jeep with their cameras clicking like crazed paparazzi. She couldn’t believe she was so close to it, and her heart stopped completely when a cub came into view with its mother.

  ‘Look, Seb!’ she whispered, turning to make sure he’d seen.

  He wasn’t looking at the animals. He was looking at her with the fierce stillness and concentration of a hunter. But it wasn’t the animals in danger.

  ‘Are you taking anti-malaria pills?’ she asked curtly. ‘I’m thinking you might be running a fever or something. You have this glazed look.’

  He reached out and put the back of his hand against her brow. ‘But you’re the one looking hot.’

  She ducked back out of the way. ‘There’s no cure for you, is there?’

  He grimaced. ‘Apparently not.’

  Seb sat squashed up to her for all the horrendous drive past the campsite of the previous night, and all the way back to the snake park where the truck was waiting. Hours of driving and having his length pressed to her. The frustration was going to be the death of him. Hard up against his body he could feel each ragged inhalation as she tried to regulate her breathing. She strained back from him. Looking down, he could see the outline of her nipples pointing up at him through the thin stretchy bikini top. He could see every little indentation of what he knew were deliciously large areolae, and the tight hard nubs that he ached to nibble on.

  Desire surged through him, it had been so damn long. And he knew she felt it too—they were dancing around it, moving ever closer with words and looks.

  But they weren’t suited. He’d never forget the hurt in her face when she’d asked him if he’d only married her to get his partnership. What had she thought? That it was true love? OK, yeah, she had thought that. But while they’d been having a wild and fabulous fling, that was all it was. He’d been blinded by lust—both for her and for his promotion—and the marriage had just been an opportunity to secure them—for a while at least. But as if he really believed in it? He spent his life finalising the end for so many marriages she couldn’t have thought he’d meant it—it had been for his work. And his own parents had taught him time and time again how easily such vows were broken and forgotten. But she hadn’t known about that, had she? He hadn’t told her a thing about himself.

  And the one thing he couldn’t forget now was the feel of her. He tumbled out of the Jeep and walked to the truck to get a drink. Cool himself down from the inside out before he tried to burn more of the bloody frustration with some football. But there was no way in hell football could burn off the energy in his body.

  Ana assembled the tent in record time, desperate to build herself a hidey-hole even if for only a few minutes. Quickly she crawled inside and then zipped up the flap. She breathed hard, sweating. A day jammed up hard next to Sebastian without actually having him was enough to exhaust any woman. Her insides were all shook up and it wasn’t from the bumpy road. She stared at the faded green tent fabric. Despite the tiredness, sleep felt miles away. Memories and words, both said and unsaid, spun round and round in her brain like a mad merry-go-round.

  She ached to shut it down; even more she ached to be able to switch off the ‘on’ button that Seb’s mere presence had fired. As if Africa weren’t hot enough? Why did he have to come along and up the mercury another thirty degrees or so with his soft touches and all-seeing eyes? Every tiny touch made her skin spark and now she ached.

  Sweat that had gathered at the base of her hairline trickled in an irritatingly slow way down her neck, eventually pooling between her breasts—breasts that felt big and heavy and tender. She longed for a shower— for cool water endlessly gushing from a gleaming chrome head. The fantasy was almost as good as the other one playing in the back of her mind—the one where she wasn’t getting cooler but hotter and the source of the spike wasn’t a shower or a spa but one potent man.

  Neither were achievable options right now. OK, so she could go have a shower, but that would mean walking out in public—past the footballers—and she was too wobbly. But she did have one luxury. Wet wipes. The best thing she’d brought with her to Africa. She’d use a few—give herself a sponge bath with the delicately scented, blessedly cool wipes.

  She undid her bikini top and peeled it from her sticky body. Popped the plastic lid and pulled some of the small white squares from the container. She sat cross-legged on the groundsheet and closed her eyes, simple relief sweeping her as she slid the damp tissues over her too hot, too sensitive skin.

  The buzzing sound was loud and fast. She froze mid-swipe. Suddenly moved to pick up her top but he moved faster—his hand grasping hers, holding it out away from her bared body. With his other hand he quickly slid the zip down behind him, sealing them in the tent.

  ‘I thought you were going to play football,’ she said quickly.

  ‘I…needed…to get…’ He took his time answering.

  Eventually she prompted, ‘Get what?’

  ‘I don’t know.’His eyes were wide and filled with fire.

  ‘Sebastian.’ She tried to shake her head but the heat washed over her, melting her ability to move.

  He didn’t look as if he’d heard anyway. The hunger in his gaze fired an equal hunger deep within her. Her nipples budded—practically screamed for his touch—tight and hard. Her breasts were heavy and full. Despite everything she wanted him to reach out to her, to cup them, to kiss them. To relieve the agonising torment that was this desire.

  The muscles in his jaw worked as he clenched his teeth. Slowly his eyes lifted to meet hers. The fever burned between them. She heard the low growl as he turned and got out of the tent faster than a striking snake.

  Ana tipped right over where she was, planting her face in the soft, suffocating sleeping bag. What the hell was she doing? She pulled on a new sloppy tee and went out. He was far away from the others viciously kicking a ball at a tree, hitting it with unerring precision. Time and time again. She walked over to him.

  He glanced at her and immediately away. ‘Don’t come near me now.’

  She halted. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I want to kiss you. I want to do more than kiss you.’

  Thwack. The ball hit the tree again. And her legs could hardly hold her up.

  ‘You have no idea what I want to do to you,’ he muttered. Fists clenched, muscles bulging, his bare torso shone with sweat. He was primed.

  Heat flooded in her most secret places. And she was the one panting like the one doing the crazy workout in the heat of the afternoon.

  He stopped, stood with his hands on his hips and glared at her. ‘We started something back then, Ana. And for me it isn’t over. I thought it was. But it isn’t.’ He gave the ball a mighty kick. ‘But I don’t want to mess either of us around again. So don’t come near me.’

  Chapter Four

  EVERY time Ana looked up Seb was looking at her. The odd moments he was talking to someone else she watched him. Invariably he caught her at it, as she did him. Their eyes simply wouldn’t stray from each other for too long. It wasn’t a thread between them, it was a big, thick rope winding tighter and tighter.

  Sexual attraction was blind to the faults of each individual, didn’t care how mismatched the two were. It was pure chemistry that couldn’t be denied. But hopefully it could be ignored.

  She tried to put distance between them—sat up on the exposed frame of the truck, ostensibly to get a better view of the landscape. But the metal crossbars got too hard for her butt and she had no choice but to sit on the seat in the truck again.

  And in the end she obeyed her body’s demand and took the seat next to his.

  He might have told her to stay away but she found it impossible. They were in such close confines and she found he
rself in orbit circling closer and closer to his heat.

  And all the while her mind searched to rationalise it. They were on the long drive through to Dar Es Saleem, on a truck with twelve other people. Nothing could happen, and so the closeness was safe.

  He spoke almost as soon as she sat. ‘Tell me about this business of yours.’

  She nodded. Good idea. They could talk personal, but not intimate. ‘It’s a rental business.’

  ‘Renting what—washing machines? Driers? DVDs?’

  ‘Accessories.’

  ‘Computer accessories? What?’

  ‘Fashion accessories.’ She wasn’t surprised at his look and tried to explain it further. ‘What does the fairy godmother say in Cinderella?’

  ‘Be back by midnight?’

  ‘Bibbity Bobbity Bo. That’s what she says and, voilà, Cinderella is transformed. Well, my idea is Bibbity-Bobbity-Bling. I’m the godmother you come to when you need glitz and glam, or stylish and label but you can’t afford to buy it yourself.’ She started to laugh. ‘Do you know, I have so many trinkets, millions of high-heeled sparkly shoes and bags like you wouldn’t believe.’

  Seb twisted in his seat and angled his head at her. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Ana, but you don’t strike me as a fashionista.’

  ‘I know,’ she sighed. ‘I’m a total wannabe. Or I was. Do you know I spent every cent of my student loan and ran up a hu-u-uge credit-card debt buying shoes and bags and stuff? But do you want to know the really stupid thing?’ She laughed again at her ridiculousness. ‘I never had the guts to wear it. It’s all pristine in bags and yet I still can’t bear to part with it.’

  She shook her head. She’d wanted to be feminine and gorgeous but she’d been so stuck in her ‘black, melt into the shadows’ phase she hadn’t been able to break free of it and she’d been mad. It had been like a kind of addiction. She hadn’t comfort eaten, she’d comfort shopped.

  ‘It took so long to pay off the debt and I screwed my credit rating.’ She had cleared the debt—a couple of years of working two or three jobs—and she had no intention of getting into debt ever again. ‘And instead of having all these quirky, stylish pieces sitting gathering dust, I need to turn them around and make them work for me. So I’m going to add a bit to my stock and make them for hire. I’ve got the website planned and half built. I’m looking for premises but still deciding quite where.’ She stopped for breath, realised she’d been gabbling. ‘Do you think it’s stupid?’