didn’t know what she was feeling.
She couldn’t help but notice how much he seemed to fit in the rugged landscape—the strength of his body, his hard, powerful features and the sharp eyes that seemed to miss nothing. He was all male and the sense of it stirred the female inside her. There seemed to be nothing she could do about it. Her mouth went dry and she felt a sense of very elemental attraction, a primitive delight in the male beauty of the man coming toward her.
She sat motionless as she watched him approach, aware of nothing but him and the racing of her heart, as if everything else between them had fallen away, had never happened.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, and it came out in a whisper.
“I was looking for you,” he said, his voice oddly low, as if it was hard to speak.
I was looking for you.
A simple sentence, yet it seemed imbued with meaning and it filled her head with light.
Sudden wild screams blew in on the wind and the fragile spell shattered, bringing back reality with shocking sharpness. Dragging in air, Shanna whipped her head toward the cliffs and automatically brought the binoculars to her eyes. Her hands were trembling.
One of the male baboons was romancing a female, who was not in the mood and shrieked at him. The male scampered off.
“What was that?” Rand asked, peering into the distance.
She lowered the binoculars and took in another fortifying breath. “A female chasing off a male.” The humor hit her as she heard herself say the words and she couldn’t help smiling.
His expression gave nothing away. He looped his thumbs behind his belt. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice businesslike.
It was as if those magical moments had never happened.
Maybe they had not. Maybe the odd awareness, the strange sensation of recognition had only occurred in her imagination, like a dream. Like a fleeting reflection in crystalline water.
She saw him watching her as she sat there in the grass behind the rocks, her shorts and T-shirt dusty and wrinkled. She’d been here for hours.
“I’ve been watching the baboons,” she said.
His brows shot up, his look incredulous. She could well imagine his surprise. The little scene he was witnessing did not fit the image he had of her—a femme fatale dressed in a sexy dress who used her beauty and charm to seduce men in wicked ways. Here she was sitting in the bush, wearing hiking boots, her hair a tangled mess, watching monkeys.
She gave a half smile. “I like baboons. They’re very smart, very human in many ways.”
He studied her for a moment, not commenting. “Nick told me you used to live here with your parents.”
“Yes, I did. We moved here when I was eleven and we were here for four years. My mother was a teacher and she home-schooled me. I spent hours watching baboons.” She’d pretended to be a scientist, like her father, writing her observations in a notebook. Drawing pictures. When she’d learned to recognize the individual animals, distinguish one from the other, she’d give them names—Snoopy, Frisky, Dreamer.
He looked meaningfully at her binoculars. “With the limited time you have at your disposal, I’d have expected you to be working on your writing, not watching baboons.”
She felt her hackles rise at his insinuated criticism. She came to her feet, pulled her T-shirt straight and dusted off her shorts. “I spent all day yesterday talking to the women in the village,” she said levelly.
They remembered her, of course, the girl with hair the color of maize, and it had been wonderful to see the recognition dawn in their dark eyes, see their smiles, hear their laughter. Suddenly she no longer was a stranger. So they’d sat and talked as they drank many glasses of hot, sweet chai—milky, sugary tea. They’d told her of deaths and weddings and births. The girls she had known as a child all had husbands, all had children. They’d wanted to know why she was not yet married, did not have babies.
It had been difficult to explain, so far away from the context of her life at home. Yes, she’d been in love, had wanted to be married, but how did you explain that the man you loved did not want to have children? That you had hoped over the years that he would change his mind, and that he had not? That eventually the distance between you had grown and you knew that the only way out for both of you was to break off the relationship.
Shanna still thought of Tom at times, although it had been three years since she had seen him last. They had parted friends, yet the breakup had been terribly painful. Still, now, years later, Shanna knew she had made the right decision. All she had to do was think of Sammy and know.
She did not tell the village women any of this. They would never believe her. A man who wanted no children? They would not believe such a person could exist.
“I haven’t found the right man,” she’d said, which was the truth. And yes, of course, she wanted a husband. Of course she wanted children. And of course at twenty-seven she was very, very old… She smiled now at the memory.
“I expect you used to live in the house?” Rand asked, gesturing at the village behind him.
She nodded. “Yes. No water, no electricity. Huge fire-places. I loved it.”
“Are you staying with Bengt?”
“Bengt? No. Is he the one who lives in the house now?”
“Yes. He’s a Swedish volunteer.”
“I haven’t met him yet. I’m staying at the Rhino Lodge, in Nyahururu.” It was a small hotel in a nearby town, not fancy, but clean and comfortable, and it served her purposes fine.
“Not exactly the Hilton.”
His superior attitude irked her, the presumption that coping in anything less than a five-star hotel was not among her talents.
She gritted her teeth. “No, it isn’t, but it’s perfectly adequate. And what business is it of yours where I stay, may I ask?”
He shrugged. “Just making conversation,” he said casually.
Conversation my foot, she thought. “Why are you here?” she demanded, feeling her control slip a notch. She raked her hair away from her face. “Haven’t you got something better to do? Herd some cattle, hunt some wounded buffalo?”
“Yes, indeed.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and considered her coolly. “I’ve considered your request. You can come to the ranch and talk to the workers.”
She stared at him, too surprised to think of something intelligent to say.
“We have an interesting tribal mix,” he went on, “in case you’re looking for variety—Pokot, Luo, Meru, Turkana.”
“You didn’t think it would be useful.” Suspicion colored her voice.
He shrugged again. “I changed my mind.”
He’d changed his mind, just like that. She
