HEARTS AFLAME

by Nancy Morse

He allowed his eyes to rake up and down her. Her flesh was soft and warm beneath the cool silk. “The sun’s been up for over an hour, and the bearers are waiting to pack up camp so that we can return to the farm.”

  “Return to the farm?” she echoed. “What about the ivory cache?”

  “You don’t actually expect me to take you there.”

  “I most certainly do.”

  “That wasn’t the deal. You wanted to find Roger Thorpe. Well, you’ve seen him, and it meant nothing to you.”

  “Then why are we here?”

  He had asked himself that same question. He had thought…hoped… this trip might help her to remember. “I’ll return the money.”

  “I don’t want the money back,” she exclaimed, anger welling in her throat. “I have to find out what happened to me out there. I want my memory back.”

  “There’s no guarantee I can even find the place,” he argued.

  “I’m sure with your tracking skills it shouldn’t be impossible.”

  “You blasted Yanks are all the same,” Jonathan complained. “Stubborn to a fault.”

  She went to the small collapsible table and poured water from the ewer into the basin and splashed it over her face. When she lifted her head, droplets clung to her skin reflecting the morning sunshine that slanted into the tent, and her anger had washed away. “Don’t be angry with me, Jonathan.” Her eyes stayed level with his for a long, wordless moment, soft and vulnerable. “I can’t do this without you.”

  The blood began to pound in his veins. He dragged a hand through his hair. “You want to go on, fine, we’ll go on. But don’t blame me if you find yourself staring down the muzzle of an English Bland.”

  “A what?”

  “A double-barreled elephant gun. Or a Mauser. There are enough of those from German East Africa left over from the war. Either way, they’re both bloody expensive, so there’s a good chance they’re gunrunning, too. Ivory and guns.” He shook his head. “We’ll be walking into one hell of a hornet’s nest.”

  She didn’t want to think about that. If she did, she might have given in to her fear. Telling herself to be practical, she gave out with a short laugh, and said, “You’re being paid.”

  “Being paid and paying the price are two different things,” he griped.

  His blue eyes turned dark and intense as they swept over her face. God, how he wanted her, with or without her memory intact. Even while inwardly cursing her stubbornness that could get them both killed. He sighed, and in that moment he was lost.

  He lifted the back of his hand to her face and stroked the flawless skin of her cheek. He had lost her once before. He wasn’t about to lose her again, not to his anger nor to her stubbornness. “We should get going.” But his lips were already lowering to capture hers.

  Julia’s senses whirled from the onslaught. She answered his demanding kiss ravenously. Her arms went around his neck, imprisoning him in the softness of her body and the hard, driving need from within. The pulse at the base of her throat beat raggedly as he covered it with his mouth. He mumbled something that sounded vaguely like remember me, but it was muffled against her heated flesh.

  Breathless and pliant, she allowed his hands to move up and down her back and his strong fingers to knead her flesh. He nudged one thin strap off her shoulder and slid his hand beneath the silk to cup her breast. With his thumb he circled the point, feeling it harden as her heart beat faster. Bringing his mouth forward, he swirled his tongue over the reddened tip before drawing it fully into his mouth.

  Twining her fingers in the sandy brown locks at the back of his head, she held him against her as low sounds of pleasure came from her throat. In his arms it was almost possible to forget the clouded past and uncertain future.

  This man held her and kissed her and made her feel like the nameless, faceless lover of the dream. Locked in his embrace, it was becoming harder to separate the dream from reality. She tried to imagine that Jonathan Shane was the man in her dream. She pressed her body closer to his. Dimly, she reasoned why not, since she was already attracted to him, not just to his beautiful blue eyes and virile body, but to the essence of him—the confidence and self-control, the combination of gentleness and ruggedness. He was the kind of man who went after what he wanted, a strong, hard man who wasn’t afraid to show tenderness. A man who, she sensed, when he loved, loved fiercely.

  The ground felt like it was shifting beneath her feet. Nothing made sense, least of all this overwhelming need she had to submit to this man, to allow him to claim not just every part of her body, but her heart and soul, as well. Yet when she had lost so much of herself, what was there to give him except the pleasure of her body?

  She told herself that a brief stab at passion was all she wanted. But as desire spun into delirium, she realized with a start that she was indeed falling in love with him.

  The realization spiraled her into confusion. She couldn’t be falling in love with him. Love would just complicate her tenuous situation. She had to focus on regaining what she had lost and somehow finding her way back to the man she had loved before his name and face had been lost to her. Where was he? Was he out there somewhere searching for her? Had he given up on her? Why wasn’t anyone able to tell her anything about him? Did he even exist at all?

  She stirred and felt the unmistakable bite of Jonathan’s passion against her. He wanted her, there was no question about it. And she wanted him. She had never felt this kind of need before. Arousal did not nearly describe it. It went beyond the need to uncover her past, to a place buried deep within. She strained against his sleek, hard muscles, struggling to understand why his flavor, his scent, everything about him seemed so familiar. Yet how could that be? Feeling lost and adrift, the doubt and uncertainty turned to panic.

  With a moan she arched away. “I can’t do this.”

  Spinning out of his embrace, she reached for her clothes and hurried to dress.

  “Julia?”

  She could hear the bewilderment in his voice and knew that if she looked at him now, she would see the hurt in his eyes. With her back to him, she said, “It’s happening too fast.”

  “Sometimes that’s how it happens.”

  “You don’t know what it’s like for me,” she said.

  “I thought you wanted it as much as I do.”

  “How can I know what I want when I don’t even know who I am?”

  “I know who you are,” he countered.

  “After what, a little more than two weeks?”

  After two years and eight weeks, he thought with despair, although he could count down to the minute how long he’d been waiting for her. “You didn’t seem to feel that way the other night.”

  She fumbled with the buttons of her blouse. “The other night was a mistake.”

  “A mis—?” He bit off the word. In one long stride he covered the distance between them and reached for her. Thin daylight washed across her face when he spun her around to face him. “Why this sudden turnaround?”

  With her blouse half-buttoned, she squirmed but failed to extricate herself from his grip. “I told you—”

  “It was no mistake,” he cut in. “It was what we both wanted. Why don’t you tell me the real reason?”

  “What reason could there be?” She clung stubbornly to her excuse so as not to reveal the truth that she was falling in love with him.

  “You’re afraid of what’s happening between us.”

  Julia paled. Was it that easy for him to read what she was thinking and feeling? Was she that transparent? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m talking about feelings, Julia. Shall I be more specific?”

  “No. I don’t want to hear it. I won’t listen to you.”

  “You’ll bloody well listen to me,” he said, fingers tightening on her arm. “You have feelings for me only you don’t want to admit it. What are you afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid of you, if th
at’s what you think.” Her voice was stronger now, touched with indignation.

  “Not of me. Of yourself. That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t understand these feelings, and you fear what you don’t understand.”

  He was right. She wanted to break the bond before it became too strong. Before her memory returned and she’d be forced to give him up in favor of the man in her dream. She knew now it wasn’t Roger Thorpe, but whoever he was, she must have loved him very much. She lied when she said she didn’t know who she was. She didn’t need a lifetime of memories to know that love did not come casually to her. Intimacy meant commitment, and as powerful as the passion was that Jonathan unleashed in her, she could not commit to him, and from all indication, nor he to her.

  “That night meant something to me,” he said.

  He saw a flicker of emotion on her face as the words shuddered from her. “What do you want from me?”

  “Much more than you’re willing to give,” he said. “But I’ve waited this long,” he added deliberately. “I can wait for however long it takes.”

  His remark baffled her. “I can’t give you more than I have.”

  The blue eyes that had burned with passion and lust only minutes ago stared back at her with disdain. Only she had the power to take him to the edge, to make him believe in his own haunting dream, then heartlessly shove him back to reality. Vulnerability was something he could not afford, not when every minute lived in this untamed land was fraught with peril, but when it came to loving her, he felt himself floundering in a world where he had no defenses.

  Slowly, he released her and dropped his hand to his side. He would gladly have endured any amount of physical pain in exchange for this emotional heartache. Losing her the first time had been difficult enough. Losing her again to amnesia had been a blow from which he was still reeling. But to lose her like this, to rejection, was more than he could stand. The silence welled up around him, threatening to swallow him up. He flicked a look at her mouth that was still wet from his kiss. Cursing himself for loving her, he pivoted and strode from the tent.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Julia emerged from the tent find to find the porters silently dismantling the campsite. Jonathan and Wakula were both down on one knee hunched over the lines Jonathan scratched in the soil with a broken stick.

  The fine-featured Swahili pointed to the west where the first spears of sunlight were turning the Rift Valley copper.

  Jonathan shook his head and jabbed his finger toward the east where the peak of Mount Kilimanjaro was lost in the clouds. Sunlight broke through the branches of the thorn trees, catching his face in profile. There was no trace of humor in his features, only a stark male beauty.

  Glancing up and finding her soft brown gaze upon him, he gave her a look that chilled her with cool disdain, a frown sliding over his face like a dark shadow before his lashes lowered and he continued drawing lines on the ground.

  With a long, shuddering breath she turned away from the sulking curve of his mouth and went to pour herself some coffee. She was sipping the strongly-flavored brew when she felt his presence behind her. Turning, she looked into blue eyes that were tense and decidedly unfriendly.

  “You’d better eat something before we go,” he said before turning quickly away.

  After a hasty breakfast of bustard on flat bread and a mug of coffee, she stood by as the porters finished taking down the tents, then hoisted the packs on their backs, and marched slowly away.

  She was kneeling down, stuffing things into her pack when a shadow appeared overhead.

  “Take only what you need. We’ll be traveling light.” His voice sounded curt and detached.

  “Is Wakula coming with us?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He slung his rifle over his shoulder and walked away.

  “Jonathan.”

  At the sound of his name softly uttered, he stopped, closed his eyes momentarily, and turned back around.

  Julia got up and took a tentative step toward him. “Why are you acting like this?”

  He gave her a dry look. “What do you want from me?”

  It stung to hear her own words from last night tossed back at her. She met his eyes, staring at the deep blue for a moment before blinking and looking down at the ground. “Do you hate me that much?”

  “Hate you?” he echoed. “Bloody hell. No, I don’t hate you. How could you even think it?”

  “I thought because I wouldn’t make love with you again—” she began

  “What do you take me for, some rutting stag who’s only interested in mating?”

  She lifted her gaze. In the morning light she could see the hurt in his eyes. “It’s just that—”

  “Yeah, I know,” he cut in. “It’s happening too fast. But if I remember correctly, it was you who came on to me the other night. How did you put it? Oh, that’s right, you didn’t want to be alone.”

  Embarrassment flooded her face. “I didn’t think you did either. You were talking about the war and looked so sad.”

  “So you felt sorry for me?”

  “That wasn’t it.”

  “What then? I’ve made no secret of the fact that I want you, so were you doing me a favor?”

  “No,” she exclaimed. “It’s just that for me it has to be about more than mere sexual gratification.”

  “Like what?”

  Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Like love.”

  A lean muscle jumped in his cheek. “I see. And you feel nothing for me. Not even after the other night.”

  “That’s just it. I do.”

  His eyes brightened. “Are you saying you have feelings for me?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

  Jonathan’s heart began to race. Tell her, his mind screamed. Tell her who you are and how much you once meant to each other. “Julia, I—I—” He stumbled over his words, not sure where to begin. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

  He opened his mouth to speak the words that had been hovering like buzzards in his mind since the day she reappeared in his life. “I’m—I’m not just—”

  “Bwana!”

  Wakula rushed up to them, pointing down the trail and making walking motions with his fingers.

  Over the rush of his heartbeat Jonathan heard voices coming from the forest. “Bloody hell,” he swore. Glancing quickly around, he spied a Cape mahogany tree in the distance whose branches were low enough for them to reach from the ground. He pulled Julia’s pack from her arms, tossed it into the bush, and signaled to Wakula to make for the tree.

  Pushing Julia toward the tree, he ordered “Climb!” as he clasped his hands together and gave her a boost up. Wakula, who had already scrambled up the tree, held a strong brown hand out to her. She cast a terrified look down at Jonathan. “I’m right behind you.”

  When they were concealed among the leaves, Jonathan shimmied to the edge of a branch and slowly slid his Winchester from his shoulder.

  A group of Abyssinians emerged from the shadow of the forest. He counted ten men with bows and arrows and two with rifles. With too many of them to pick off, he slid back to where Wakula and Julia waited.

  From Jonathan’s grim expression Julia knew not to ask questions. It wasn’t until the danger had passed and they were safely back on the ground that her need for answers got the best of her.

  “Who were those men?” she asked as Jonathan rummaged through the bush to retrieve her pack.

  “Poachers.”

  “With bows and arrows?”

  “Poisoned arrows,” he said. “And two of them had rifles. One was a double-barreled elephant gun, the other looked like a brand new 98 Mauser. Those poachers were well armed. There’s no way they could afford guns like that unless they stole them or someone is trading in them.” He felt the bitterness churn in his gut. “I was right about the gunrunning.”

  Thrusting the pack back into her arms, he said, “After what you just saw, do you still want to go o
n?”

  She was caught off guard, not by the faint challenge she heard in his voice but by his musky aroma and could almost taste the salt from his skin. The two-day-old stubble spiking his chin and the sandy locks falling in unruly curls over his collar gave him a strange uncivilized beauty. Inhaling deeply, she squared her shoulders and answered, “I do.”

  He took her by the shoulders, thinking to shake some sense into her, but his fingers slipped up the sides of her throat. Cupping her chin in his hands, he looked down into her eyes that were filled with fear and uncertainty. Expelling a deep breath, he said, “You were always the stubborn one, weren’t you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” he said of the words that had slipped out unintentionally. “Nothing at all. Let’s go.”

  “Are we going to follow them?” she asked.

  “There’s too much leaf litter on the ground. It will be hard picking up their trail.”

  Sensing a subterfuge, she cast a backwards glance at the campsite and the haunting memory of the night they made love there.

  Jonathan strode on ahead, his mood darkening as the sky grew brighter. Wakula had reported sighting a small herd of elephants on the fringe of the forest. No doubt those poachers were on their way to a kill. His stomach churned at the thought of it. His impulse was to track them and stop them before another elephant met its doom for the price of its ivory

  But then he thought of Julia and his unquenchable need for her, and a stronger impulse prevailed. He understood why she hadn’t wanted to make love again, but understanding did not ease his frustration. Still, as great a need as he had to bury himself deep within her, he would not pressure her. His only hope now was that something…anything…would look familiar to her and speed her on her way to rediscovering herself…and him. She didn’t know it, but the trail they were taking was the same one they took two years ago. Every minute of their journey, every step of the way, he prayed her slumbering memory would awaken, that thoughts and feelings would be rekindled, and she would know him as the man in her dream, the one she had promised to love forever. The trail was leading them to Arusha, the dusty little Tanganyikan village where he lost her. From there, who knew?