Wednesday was a beautiful spring day, and things had been going well between Leigh and the two women. It was obvious to Leigh that Louisa and Cynthia were making a conscious—though false— effort to be nice to her. They had shopped for hours but purchased little. However, Louisa had made it a point to buy two rather daring nightgowns and to tease naughtily about how much Chad would like and enjoy them during the trip. The two friends had joked about how much luggage they were taking with them, how it would require ten extra bearers to carry their clothing and Oriental cosmetics.
Louisa had questioned Leigh at length about her Texas “beau,” the ranch foreman Tyler Clark, and both the redhead and brunette had offered their matchmaking services with an eligible English nobleman if that romance failed. Leigh had misled them to prevent more jealousy. Leigh had tried to learn more about her guardian, but Louisa had changed the subject each time as if to quell any interest. Over a lingering lunch, the two Englishwomen had talked of Fiona Webster’s beauty and charms with envy, and about the safari with enthusiasm. But they had consumed too much champagne and their banter soon sunk to a risque and embarrassing level. The lunch had ended with Louisa making a toast: “To our new friendship and to a marvelous safari. May the best woman bring home the best trophy.” They had clinked glasses, then did the same with Leigh’s before downing their contents. Leigh had taken several small sips then departed.
~*~
The following day, Leigh rested, read, and attempted to keep “Sir Lancelot” off her mind. It was difficult, because he kept sneaking into her head every few minutes. The man certainly knew how to rouse a woman’s intrigue with his little waiting game.
Leigh remembered how his wavy hair fell over his right temple and how it curled under at his nape. She envisioned those mysterious and enticing green eyes with their hooded brows. He was so tall and strong, so masculine and virile. She recalled how his touch and nearness made her warm and trembly. She adored the little valley between his nose and upper lip, and the deep cleft in his proud chin. He had wonderful hands, powerful one moment and gentle the next. His smile was devastating to her senses, and she longed to see it again. And his voice, that smooth, suggestive English accent, it washed over her, enflaming her very soul. How she craved to hear it once more.
The mysterious stranger had seemed such a likable, easygoing man. He was humorous and fun, and he certainly knew how to get to a woman. Yes, she was anxious to see him again, and soon.
~*~
Friday night, the group of five had dinner with a client named Sir David Lawrence and enjoyedThe Taming of the Shrewat the theater. Afterward, they had coffee and dessert while discussing the performance. For the first time, Chadwick Hamilton had kissed Leigh’s cheek after biding her good night.
~*~
Late Sunday night, Leigh lay in her bed with anticipation and suspense as her covers. The steamer was repaired. They were set to sail at eight in the morning. That meant being up and dressed by dawn, but her anticipation was so great she couldn’t get to sleep. She was packed and ready, a second time, yet, she was reluctant to leave London.
She knew why: the green-eyed ghost who haunted her sleeping and waking moments. Late June was far away, and her return didn’t even mean their paths would cross again. For all she knew, he’d gone his merry way to play his game with another woman. It had been over a week since she’d seen him in the garden, and he knew she was leaving tomorrow. Or did he believe she was already gone? Perhaps that was why he had made no attempt to see her.
No,she argued with herself.If he’s tracking and pursuing me as he claimed, he knows exactly where I am and when I’m sailing.Before she faced the wild perils of the jungle, she had wanted to experience sweet passions again.
Chapter Six
Mombasa, British East Africa
April 13, 1896
The voyage was almost over and the steamship would be docking soon. It had required three weeks for the trip from London to Africa. The weather had remained clear and calm, preventing any rough seas or more delays, and Leigh was glad. It was three-thirty, but it did not get dark until after eight in this area astride the Equator. Passengers were in their cabins or staterooms, grooming themselves to leave the ship and preparing to watch the sights as they neared shore.
The ship had steamed down the English Channel into the Atlantic Ocean to skirt France, Spain, and Portugal. It had passed through the Strait of Gibraltar between Morocco and a British colony on the Rock, a wondrous sight, reaching to a height of thirteen hundred and eighty feet. The peninsula had been owned by the British since the eighteenth century and was a symbol of British naval strength.
They had sailed through the beautiful and tranquil Mediterranean Sea that separated Europe from Africa. They had neared Egypt and the Suez Canal, which crossed the Isthmus of Suez, connecting the Mediterranean to the Red Sea. In 1888, the canal had been opened to all ships and nations in wartime or peace, and no acts of hostility were allowed in its waters, though it was considered to be still hazardous.
Leigh had stayed on deck during the time it required to pass through the area. She had heard how many ships had failed to make this crossing, but plans were being made to widen and deepen it even more. As it was so important to international trade, she knew everyone would be delighted when that was done. As for their voyage, the canal had saved them four thousand miles over the cape route.
They had entered the calm Red Sea to reach the Gulf of Aden. At Cape Asir, they had sailed southward in the Indian Ocean along the African coast. Before nightfall, they would dock at Mombasa.
Mombasa,her mind echoed. It was one of the oldest cities in Africa. By the ninth century, ships filled with silks, spices, carpets, porcelain, and other luxurious goods sailed on the northeast winds from India and Arabia to this area during the winter to spring season. From spring to winter, opposing, favorable southwest winds carried ships from Mombasa to transport ivory, skins and hides, rhino horns, slaves, oilseeds, kanga and kikoi cloth, mangrove poles, coral, tortoise and cowry shells, ambergris, and wild coffee. The territory had reached its golden age as a center of coastal commerce during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and was still dominated by that activity.
As she completed her grooming and packing, Leigh reflected on what she had been told about British East Africa, particularly Mombasa. The traders had come first, the Arabs and Chinese and others with their caravans—seeking the wealth of ivory, animal hides, and slaves. By the fourteen hundreds, Mombasa was a substantial town with a premier position on the coastline, along which was a chain of Omani Arab trading posts, ruled by the Sultan of Zanzibar. Mombasa was a prosperous city that many nations craved but Britain now ruled.
The area had changed hands many times over the centuries. The Portuguese had sacked and claimed Mombasa in 1505, and dominated the coast and trade route to India for many years. But the Omanis had wanted East Africa, and the two opponents had battled time and time again for its possession. Then, the Dutch, Persians, Belgians, Italians, Germans, French, and British had moved in, and the greedy scramble for portions had begun in 1879. In ‘84, the “Dark Continent” had been divided into “spheres of influence” at a Berlin conference, to which no Africans were invited.
The missionaries had arrived next to “Christianize and civilize” the natives. Many battles had resulted in the struggle for religious supremacy. Many of them had been—and so remained—financed by the Church Missionary Society of London. One such battle in Uganda had culminated in that area being claimed as a British protectorate, and later the area she was to visit.
Other battles had come about as the results of political and racial differences, such as the Zulu war in ‘79 and the Jameson Raid against the Dutch Boers last year. Her studies had taught Leigh that Africa could indeed be a dangerous place.
During the voyage, she had listened to many conversations. Most passengers—who were heading for Rhodesia—viewed Africa as an exotic paradise, with its tropical climate, abundance of big game, splendid landscape, and a large supply of cheap native labor. Others claimed it was a harsh, unpredictable, and perilous land that could devastate any reckless man and could drain the very life from him. Leigh had decided she would draw her own conclusions after she visited East Africa—one day to be renamed Kenya—and completed her safari.
Leigh smiled, thinking how pleasant the trip had been so far. Louisa Jennings and Cynthia Campbell had been on their very best behavior, and Chad had cooled his excessive ardor toward her. Even Reid had been friendlier and fun to be around. There had been dances, and dinners, parties and teas, interesting conversations, and lessons in skeet shooting to absorb her time and energy. She had enjoyed that sport, as it had allowed her to practice for the safari.
The ship’s horn blasted in the quiet air, alerting the few departing passengers they were near port. Quickly Leigh fastened her last case, locked her door, and hurried to the deck to view the sights.
Leigh was wearing a pale blue day dress and carrying a parasol to shield her eyes from the bright tropical sun. She sighted Chad and the others at the railing and went to join them. “It’s so exciting,” she said to him, as he turned to smile at her.
“We finally made it. I can’t wait to get into that challenging jungle.”