“Me, too,” murmured Louisa and possessively took his arm.
There was a sparkling glare from the water’s surface, and the air was hot as it blew into Leigh’s face. She raised her parasol to shade her squinted eyes. Despite the ocean breeze and the thin material of her dress, she felt beads of moisture forming on her face and body. She had never been in the tropics before, but she had been told the coastal temperatures were warm all year. The coolest season in this equatorial area was in July, about eighty degrees. The warmest month was March, when it reached nearly ninety. But the nights were supposed to be pleasant, dipping only into the sixties. Of course, rain showers were frequent from April to September.
The steamship sailed past stretches of wheat-colored sand that drifted into prolific undergrowth of succulents and mangrove. The coral coast with its idyllic reef lagoons and sylvan beaches beckoned to Leigh. The cautious vessel sailed into the narrow channel toward the small island where they would drop anchor. From there, they would be transported into Mombasa. The British flag could not fly over this landing area, because it was the property of Simba—the Sultan of Zanzibar—and Britain paid him fees to use it.
Chad pointed out a variety of boats that were preparing to meet them and vie for their business. “Look …” he gestured to Fort Jesus, a symbol of past domination during the time the Portuguese had tried to destroy the Arab grip over trade here.
Leigh’s eyes returned to her destination. She gazed at the emerald setting that was outlined against an azure sky, and beyond the blue ocean. Her pulse raced with suspense. She saw mango trees and coconut palms, almost dazzlingly white flat-topped homes, coral block structures with red or white roofs, Arabdhowswith billowy sails, and Moslem mosques that told a history of trade and intwined cultures.
“We’ll go ashore first, then our possessions will be unloaded and sent to the hotel. I’ve paid a man to take care of that task for us. Come along, ladies. Let’s find carriages and take a better look at this town.”
Chad selected the Arabdhowsto give them an entertaining boat ride. When their group reached the landing steps, individual rickshaws were rented to carry them from the island into town to their hotel. They crossed a wooden bridge and traveled a dirt street.
Leigh was amazed by how fast the men could run while pulling an occupied rickshaw. Their pace was steady and swift, as if hurrying to get in as much business in one day as possible. The runners appeared to be in excellent condition, but the day was hot and the distance was long for such a gait. As she traveled, she wondered how they held up under such a burden in this climate. Yet the ride was surprisingly smooth; it was fun, and gay laughter spilled forth. All Leigh’s senses were alert, but the unfamiliar and intriguing sights flashed by too fast to suit her. She couldn’t wait to savor them at her leisure.
The town was large, spread over a wide area. Streets went in all directions. Many were shadowed by two-and three-story buildings and homes of coral block or stucco with high-pitchedmakutiroofs. Huge, ornate doors—some inlaid with silver designs—sealed off the interiors from courtyards brightened by the hot sunlight. Windows had shutters to hold back the intense light and intricate grills for protection. Many homes had verandas and balconies on upper levels.
Shops were everywhere, of every description, size, and purpose. Stalls lined some streets where colorful fabrics from India, China, Arab countries, and other lands were for sale. She glanced at the costly silks and satins. At other stalls or along the street, native cloth such askanga,bark cloth, andkikoiwere on display. Nearby, artistically woven baskets, fresh fish, unknown foods, and other goods were offered.
Leigh noticed items made from ivory, coral, tortoise shell, cowry, gold, silver, brass, ebony, hides, and rhino horns. Merchants sat amongst sacks and piles of aromatic tea, coffee, spices, fruits, and nuts. In the rickshaw, she passed Moslem women, veiled in blackchadorsand the traditionalbui-buigarment as they strolled the streets making their purchases. She saw people in an assortment of clothing and accessories: African tribesmen in their bright garb and fascinating jewelry, bearded Sikhs in black turbans and whitekanzurobes, British in their white or khaki clothing, and others in their own country’s raiment. There were peoples of all walks of life and from all nations: Arab, Indian, Persian, African, European, Asian.
It was a crowded, busy, and enchanting sight. She inhaled odors she did not recognize, mostly from the strange foods being cooked and sold. She took in deep breaths when she passed spice sellers, and savored those delightful smells. She enjoyed the heady fragrance of tropical flowers, some being sold near the streets, and her nose told her that breads and pastries were being prepared. She savored the aromas.
Some areas were noisy and cluttered where men were hawking their goods and services, and people speaking several languages were haggling noisily or bartering briskly over prices. Others, where owners were content to relax and await customers, were quiet and calm. She heard laughter and snatches of conversations. The predominate language was Swahili, a mixture of Bantu and Arabic, but it also borrowed heavily from other languages, including English. Swahili was the common link between this melting pot of races.
Leigh heard the creaking of carts and the heavy fall of oxen’s hooves as goods were taken here or there at a leisurely pace. She heard the clinking of metals as brass containers were examined. She heard merchants yelling at her group to halt and inspect their wares. She heard wind whistling past her ears.
By the time they reached the hotel, it was six-thirty. Chad had selected one away from the noisy coast and bazaar area in a section of lush greenery and quiet seclusion. The rickshaws halted before the entrance, and Chad paid the runners.
“Jambo, rafikis. Karibu, bwana, bibi. Oonitwa nani?”the hotel doorman greeted them. When no one responded and Chad said they didn’t understand, he repeated in English, “Hello, friends. Welcome, sir, ladies. What is your name?”
As Chad conversed with the man and the others gazed about and chatted, a large cart arrived with their belongings.
Chad grinned and remarked to the man in charge, “You said you were prompt. A job well done, my man. I hope you were careful.”
“Plenty careful,” the man responded, grinning broadly in anticipation of a fat tip from the well-dressed Englishman.
Hotel helpers were given instructions about the luggage and crates, and they went to work moving the baggage to the appropriate rooms. The crates for the safari were to be stored in a separate room: the cleverly invented Kodak box cameras, a gramophone and records, silver, crystal, china, tablecloths, wine, special blends of tea, and other “necessities” to make their journey comfortable.
“Everyone get settled in and refreshed,” Chad told his group. “Then, we’ll meet downstairs for dinner at eight. I’m hungry as a lion.”
~*~
In her suite, Leigh paced the floor, tense from the episodes during dinner. Louisa had been in a foul mood, Chad had been too attentive to Leigh, and Reid and Cynthia had been strangely silent. Louisa’s mood had worsened when Chad had danced with his ward, then ignored the sullen redhead for most of the evening. Leigh had escaped at the first available moment, but only after teasing Chad into dancing with Louisa to calm the woman. Chad seemed surprised and annoyed that their guide, Jim Hanes, hadn’t arrived by the time their native meal ended. Leigh was eager to begin their safari, to get into the lush jungle and out of the hotel where she felt cooped up.
Leigh fretted that if Louisa’s behavior didn’t improve, Chad was going to end their relationship any moment! If he did, the Texas girl worried, Chad might aim his sights on her!
A pouring rain began. Leigh hurried to the door that opened onto a private balcony overlooking a lush garden below it. Torches were extinguished by the heavy rainfall, and smoke escaped skyward until it was obscured by the water. Heavy drops pelted on tropical plants with their large leaves, beating upon the fragrant hibiscus, bougainvillea, and frangipani and sending delicate blossoms to the ground. Yet the breeze accompanying the heavy shower was like a caress upon Leigh’s face and body. Fireflies no longer danced with the flowers in the garden, but the distant sounds of music and birds and tree frogs drifted to her ears. It was dark, because the silvery moon was hidden behind clouds. She leaned against the door jamb and closed her eyes as she inhaled the scents and listened to the sounds of nature.
Leigh’s dreamy mind floated toward another topic and affixed itself there: the mysterious stranger in London. She had thought of him constantly during the voyage and she chided herself for scheming how to locate and ensnare him, and for avidly searching every face and deck of the ship with the hope he was aboard. He hadn’t been, and he could be anywhere in England by now, could be anywhere in the world. Yet the thought of never seeing him again brought on intense feelings of loneliness and anguish.
How, she questioned herself, could she feel so strongly about a man she barely knew? She had not seen him in a month, exactly a month today, yet, she could picture him as clearly as if he were standing before her this moment: that windblown brown hair, those secretive green eyes, that bronzed face, that muscular body. He kept intruding on her happiness and concentration. How could such brief encounters have had such a stunning effect on her? If only he weren’t so unforgettable, so alluring, so magnetic!
If only you knew his name,her troubled mind retorted,where he lives, what he does for a living … if you’ll see him again.
Leigh traced her fingertips over her parted lips and called to mind the kisses he had placed there, kisses that had stolen her breath and wits and caused her to behave intimately and passionately. “Who are you? Where are you?” she whispered. “You can’t leave things this way between us. You can’t. And, if you’re married, I’ll kill you for tempting me and teasing me.”
One thing Leigh found amusing—or ironic—was the fact that she now viewed Louisa in a different light. Since meeting the elusive stranger, she now understood how fiery passion could consume a person and how frustrating and alarming it was to desperately desire someone you couldn’t win. And how maddening it was to be just another conquest to a man you loved, a man to whom you had given your all. Perhaps it did make a woman act impulsive, brazen, jealous, and even rude at times. Maybe she did understand Louisa—and love—a little better now.