A Touch of Betrayal (17 page)

“Shoo?” Grant frowned as the woman’s eyelids dropped shut. “You sure are a feisty little thing, you know that?”

“Ehh.” She held up a hand, and one eye slid open. “Grant, you must protect Alexandra. She is a treasure. The man . . . he is . . . wanting to hurt her. ‘In a little while, the wicked will disappear. . . . Though you look for them . . . they will be . . . gone. . . .’”

“She’s asleep,” Alexandra said. “Do you think she knows something about Jones that she hasn’t told us? Maybe he admitted why he was after me.”

“I’ll talk to her about it when she wakes up,” Grant said. “For some reason, she feels very protective of you. It’s weird how the two of you bonded so fast.”

“Not really.”

“The Christian thing, right?”

“The night we met at the airport, Mama Hannah told me she was a believer. After Jones attacked me, all I could think about was finding her. She was a light in my darkness. Sort of a vision of sanity and truth and everything good.”

“I know what you mean,” he said. “She’s been like that to me during a lot of hard times. Let’s go out to the beach for a few minutes. Give her some peace and quiet.”

Alexandra nodded and accompanied him through the living room’s wide opening created by folding glass doors. The policeman stood guard at the edge of the verandah. In a low voice, he assured them he would watch Mama Hannah. The undercover officer would follow them on the beach. They would know him by his green thongs.

Comforted somewhat by this knowledge, Alexandra descended the wide concrete steps to the bungalow’s front yard. Beyond the verandah, tufts of hardy grass quickly surrendered to hard sand. Huge coconut palms swayed overhead, their fronds rustling in the breeze that blew in from the sea. Brown hairy coconuts lay scattered across the ground. Alexandra walked the short distance to the water’s edge.

As she and Grant emerged from the palm grove, she had to stop. Overhead, the sky gleamed a rich shade of azure, curving like a giant lapis lazuli gemstone. At the horizon, the sky dipped into turquoise water dappled in shades of indigo, teal, and mauve. A long line of white waves broke against a distant reef that stretched north and south as far as the eye could see. Near the shore, crystalline water unrolled like a transparent carpet over sand as pure and white as salt.

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” Alexandra said. “And I’ve traveled a lot.”

Grant’s smile reflected pride in his homeland. “The Indian Ocean. You ought to see what’s in the water. It’s unbelievable down there.”

She studied his face. “You love this place, don’t you?”

“My family came here on holiday every August. Dad, Mom, when she was alive—and after that Mama Hannah— three little sisters, and me.” He chuckled. “What a crew.”

Alexandra let out a deep breath as they walked onto the soft warm sand and began to stroll along the shore. For the first time since arriving in Kenya, she was beginning to relax. The equatorial sun warmed her skin through her gauzy blue tunic and skirt. Wind feathered her hair away from her face and neck. She regarded the man at her side. As hope and strength returned to her body, Grant Thornton began to invade her thoughts.

“Tell me about your sisters,” she said. “I grew up as an only child. What was it like to have siblings?”

“With Tillie, Jessica, and Fiona around, things could get pretty crazy. Lots of laughter. Some tears. They drove me crazy most of the time, but I love my sisters.” He laughed softly and shook his head. “Tillie’s the youngest. She was a little scalawag with long blonde braids and skinny legs— always planting things. That’s what she does now. She’s an agroforester in Mali, West Africa. She’s hoping her trees will hold back the Sahara and make the ground stable for crops. A while back she married some kind of renegade writer. I haven’t met the guy, but I have a hard time believing any man is good enough for Tillie.”

“Pretty special, is she?”

“A gem. Then there’s Jessica, the artist of the family. She’s a very sensitive and tenderhearted girl. She just hooked up with her husband after a ten-year separation. They’ve got a great kid. I don’t know how it’s going to work out. Rick ran off and left Jessica after they’d only been married a short time. I couldn’t understand why she married him in the first place. He drank too much—always riding around on his motorcycle and shooting off his mouth. Mama Hannah says he’s cleaned up his act. Found the Lord or something. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Sounds like two humdingers for brothers-in-law. What kind of a guy did your third sister pick?”

“Fiona’s not married. She doesn’t like people much.”

“Is this the sister who lives with the elephants?”

“Yep. She’s a gifted scientist. Her research has broken a lot of new ground.”

“But she hates people?”

“More or less. It goes back to our childhood. She had a hard time of it. . . . I guess we all did. Anyway, she’s afraid to trust anybody. Sort of like you.”

Alexandra glanced at him. “I’ve been working on that. My most recent effort at trusting people landed me Nick Jones, remember?”

“I thought
I
was your most recent effort.”

She shook her head. “Okay, okay. I have to admit, I trust you.”

“How much?”

“A little. How much do you want?”

“More.” He stopped walking. “Alexandra, on the road to Oloitokitok you asked me not to touch you.”

“That’s true.” She paused. The hem of her skirt fluttered against her ankles with the same breathless beat her heart suddenly began to play. “I did say that.”

“But in the airplane you held my hand,” he said, slipping his fingers through hers. “So that must be okay.”

“I guess that’s okay.” His hand was warm and firm, reassuring in its strength. “I don’t mind.”

“And you didn’t mind at the hospital yesterday when I put my arm around your shoulders.” Still holding her fingers, he slid his free hand behind her back, turning her into his embrace. “Kind of like this.”

“No, I didn’t mind.” She could hardly breathe. He stood barely two inches away, and the fresh scent of his clean hair and skin drifted around her.
Did
she mind? Did she want this? Could she allow him to get this close?

“And I’ve been wondering a lot,” he murmured near her ear, “whether you would be too troubled by . . .” His lips brushed against her temple. “By the touch of my mouth . . .” It grazed across her cheek. “On your skin . . . like this . . .”

He bent and pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss, over in a breath and as tempting as sweet honey. Alexandra hung suspended against him for a moment, looking up into his denim blue eyes and trying her best to draw air into her lungs. His mouth wore the hint of a smile as he awaited her response.

“Like that,” he said in a low voice. “Which is what I’ve been wanting to do for a long time now.”

“You have?”

“Yeah.” And he did it again, only this time longer.

Alexandra floated in the sensation, something brand-new and so unexpected she felt dizzy. Kisses had never felt the way they did with Grant Thornton. Instead of binding, his arm around her was an emblem of security. Rather than demanding, the brush of his mouth on hers was a gift. Though he held her tight, so tight, he didn’t possess her. Instead . . . somehow . . . he set her free.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Yes, that troubles you?”

“Yes, I trust you. And yes, it troubles me, too.”

He searched her eyes. “I won’t hurt you, Alexandra.”

“Not on purpose.”

“Not ever.”

“I suspect you will. These things never work out well for me.”

She stepped out of his arms and began walking again. How could she explain to a man whose real estate consisted of two tents what it felt like to be respected and desired only for your bank balance? Grant couldn’t understand such a thing, and Alexandra knew he would never treat her that way. Yet any feelings between them were an unnecessary complication. They lived in separate worlds, had opposing belief systems, and would never see each other again after she flew back to New York.

“You’re analyzing this thing. I can almost hear your brain clicking,” Grant said, matching her stride. “That’s my job, you know. I’m the scientist.”

“So analyze.”

“Gladly.” He held up a hand and began to tick off his fingers. “A, beautiful woman—that’s you—finds herself in the company of B, dashing stranger—that’s me, of course. The two ingredients are mixed. They form a slightly unstable, highly volatile combination. And then—”

“Boom! Big explosion. That’s how my science experiments usually ended.”

“Then you didn’t mix your ingredients carefully. Things like this require gentle handling.”

“So what’s C?” Alexandra asked. “What’s the result of your experiment with A and B?”

“Undetermined,” he said. “More kissing required.”

Alexandra giggled as Grant swung her into his arms again and demonstrated. This time, she welcomed him, sliding her hands up his back and allowing herself to savor the moment. Crazy, yes. Doomed, no doubt. But it felt wonderful—deliriously wonderful—to drink in this man. His strength warmed her. His intelligence intrigued her. His wit delighted her. And his mouth . . . oh, his mouth . . .

“You’ve been fooling me about this loner business,” she said against his cheek. “You must have been practicing this.”

“You’re the first woman I’ve kissed in six years.”

“Something pretty bad must have happened six years ago.”

“Nothing happened. Nothing at all. That’s why I quit the dating game and turned my focus to my work. I haven’t regretted it.”

“So what about A and B?” she said. “Anything happening there?”

“Sparks.” He ran a thumb up her cheek. “Lots of sparks. Dangerous sparks.”

“Mmm. A tropical beach and a dashing stranger. I think I’m in trouble.”

“Bwana?”
A deep voice cut into their conversation. “Would you like to buy some shells? or perhaps a newspaper?”

Alexandra turned to find a tall, thin African man holding out a flat tray filled with trinkets. On the top lay a newspaper, its English headline blaring “AMERICAN HEIRESS FOUND IN MOMBASA.” The man tapped the paper.

“Perhaps you would like to read this article, madam,” he said quietly. “You would find it most interesting.”

Alexandra glanced at Grant, who quickly pulled her close. Then she looked down at the vendor’s shoes. Green thongs.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ll read it.”

“Five shillings, please.” He held out his hand and added in a murmur, “Please keep your attention on these items in my tray and no other place.”

Grant paid him for the paper. “Are we being watched?”

“It is possible,
bwana
.”

Alexandra felt her blood rush to her knees. Was Jones here on the beach? How could he have found her so quickly? The newspaper article, of course. Now everyone in the country knew where she was. She swallowed and forced herself to casually finger the knickknacks in the man’s tray.

“You would like to go to another place this afternoon,
bwana
?” the man asked.

“Yes,” Grant acknowledged. “I think Miss Prescott would enjoy seeing Fort Jesus. Will that be all right?”

“Fort Jesus is a good place to visit. There are few people and many tall walls and cliffs. The
memsahib
should go alone.”

“No,” Grant said. “I won’t allow that.”

“
Bwana
, that is the order I have received. You must comply. And which ring does the
memsahib
like? This silver one is very nice.”

Alexandra selected a ring embedded with a sliver of mother-of-pearl. “I like this one. Grant?”

“A trinket for the American heiress,” he said, digging into his wallet again. “All right, I’ll agree to Fort Jesus. But I’m going with her. I’ll leave her alone for a few minutes at a time—and I won’t be far away.”

“Very good.
Asante sana, bwana
!” Smiling as though the sale had made his day, the man walked backward and called out. “Enjoy the fort!”

“Thank you,” Grant said. He turned to Alexandra and slipped the ring over her little finger. “A promise,” he said. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

She forced herself to smile. “I know,” she whispered. “I trust you.”