Читать книгу Chasing The Leopard Finding the Lion - Julie Wakeman-Linn - Страница 15

VII Hwange National Park, Friday, sunset

They had been parked for two hours between the enormous old baobab and a stand of acacia trees--leopards liked acacias--but no leopard.

Nothing worked today. The lighting, the animals, and her attitude. Elise was distracted. Every animal they had seen, the giraffe, the hyena, the marabou stork, she had asked who ate it and where did it sleep. To hunt the leopard, he’d given up on the lodge’s grounds and entered the National Park territory, even though it wasn’t allowed without prior authorization due to the rhino poaching problems. The guard at the gate was a new guy he didn’t recognize, so Brett had cruised by without stopping, pretending to be ignorant of the rules.

The huge baobab blocked the ball of the setting sun. The tree’s shadows stretched toward them like fingers. Elise unclasped her hairclip and fiddled with the catch, snapping it open and shut.

All week she’d been with him and the Australians and the Nelsons and anybody else David could round up, even Jeremy on Thursday. They hadn’t been alone since the first day. After the drives, he’d walked her around the grounds. She’d teased and hung on his arm, getting him to explain every bush and bird. In the evenings, David always kept him busy with a stupid errand or task. She’d never invited him into her bungalow either. This drive was his last chance.

Elise gathered her hair into a knot and clipped it, but the catch broke and her hair slipped loose over her shoulders.

“You capture the sunset in your hair.” Brett felt like an idiot as soon as he’d said it.

She half smiled. “I wish I could capture some and take it home with me. It’s been a great week.”

Behind her the sun was sinking, in its quick drop below the horizon. In another twenty-thirty minutes, they’d be stuck in the National Park for the night. “I’m sorry to end it with nothing. No leopard and the park closes in ten minutes. We need to go.”

He half-clicked the ignition. Barking and shrieking erupted near the baobab, in a little acacia. One low branch dipped. “Baboons,” he said, “signaling a predator. The second low branch on the left. There she is.”

A leopard’s head became visible as it turned profile; a long tail lashed below the branch. Brett spun Elise by her shoulders to face west. He hooted--the short forehead, the angle from nose to ear tuffs--no mistaking the feline silhouette--a leopard against the orange sky.

The shrieking of baboons sent birds rushing around them. The leopard gathered herself, sprang off the branch, and disappeared into the underbrush.

“That was my leopard, wasn’t it?” Elise twisted to face him. “So lean, she’s lovely. At least her tail was.” Elise laughed--this time without putting her hand over her mouth.

“Hey--now you’re enjoying yourself. You laughed openmouthed,” Brett realized it was the first time all week he’d seen her teeth.

“Did I?” Elise gasped. “My brother says I never laugh without stopping myself.”

“You have a lovely laugh. Why not laugh?” Brett stopped. Whatever he said wasn’t worth a damn, after tomorrow she’d go back to her easy life with her good job in a sane country. She certainly wouldn’t think about him.

“Thank you for my leopard. For this week.” Elise tucked her feet under her. “This vacation has been tricky. Meeting you comes at a funny time--”

“You don’t have to say,” Brett interrupted. If she talked, she’d say goodbye, it’s been a bloody good time, and finally how she was reconsidering some goddamn boyfriend. He didn’t want to hear it. This kind of flirtation was supposed to be fun. Damn, he’d take his shot. She might tell him to bugger off, but he was going to kiss her. He aimed for her pretty, wide mouth, fast before she could shift away.

Her shoulder bumped his. She laid her hand on his chest, fingertips balancing. As she leaned close, her hair swept over his shoulders and she kissed him hard, teeth knocking.

Her fingertips pressed lightly, holding him off, but there was a nice salty taste of her tongue. She knew her way around the block. He was getting a bit rigid when he noticed the air temperature dropping. The sun had set, changing the west to a red-streaked glow. Damn, it would be full darkness in about twenty minutes. “Shit. They may have shut the gate. Would you like to spend the night under the stars?”

“In the Jeep?” She touched the stiff old leather. “I leave early in the morning.”

“Ndi, we’ll hurry right at dawn and get you back in plenty of time. Sunrise is gorgeous.” There was an old blanket in the back and he had water bottles. She’d have to pack and all that stuff before she left on the eight a.m. flight, but he could get to the lodge in thirty minutes if he pushed the old Jeep. “Rather than sit at the stupid gate all night, we might as well stay here and enjoy the stars. See, the guards won’t let us back out.”

“My clothes won’t pack themselves. I have an idea. When we get close, let me drive.” She braided her hair and twirled it into a bun but the loose ends bobbed like a quail’s topknot. “You inspire a crazy part of me.”

He didn’t know what she had in mind, but he liked how a leopard didn’t dull her quickness. She was as unpredictable as the veld’s predators. “We can’t crash through the gate, if that’s what you’re thinking and this Jeep’s too low slung for off road driving. They’ll recognize the lodge’s name on the doors.”

“Nothing so crude. I’ll act flustered. Curse in Danish.” She rested her hand on his thigh as he drove faster, almost too fast. They stopped around the curve from the gate. She scrambled over him into the driver’s seat as he slid under her. He resisted the urge to squeeze her marvelous bottom; instead, his hands guided her hips above his crotch.

“Ready?” she said, racing the engine.

“Ready. You’re looney.” Whatever she had planned, they’d likely be struck here at the gate with two idiot guards for company. “Beautiful but looney.”

“Now hold your belly and moan. Act like you’re going to puke.” She shifted into first, smoothly accelerated to third.

“I love a woman who’s not afraid of a stick shift.”

“Shut up and start moaning.” Her forehead was all furrowed and serious as she approached the gate, doing sixty kph. She slammed on the brakes a scant meter from the gate.

“Opmærksomhed! Jeg er hungrig!” She slapped the dashboard and wagged her hand at the gate. “Den låge.”

The guard stopped drinking from his mug. “We are closed for the night, Madam. You must go back--”

“Den lage. How you say--NOW,” Elise yelled. Brett was surprised she had such a big voice when she wanted to. He moaned louder. It was lucky he didn’t know this guard, a short guy whose shirt strained over his fat gut; this guy wouldn’t try to chase them if they had to drive in the ditch around the gate.

“Indeværende menneskene er igangværende hen til gylpe opoven på mig.” Still shouting, Elise half stood and pointed emphatically first at the guy and then at the gate and then down at Brett. Brett let his moans border on howls--this stunt was totally daft.

“All right, all right. Crazy little sister. I’m opening it up.” The guard put his palm up to suggest calm, but he jogged to the metal gate and swung it open. “Muzungus, sheesh.”

Elise popped the clutch and the Jeep shot through. After the next curve, they stopped to switch back to Brett’s driving. She stood and yelled “Wooohoo.” Then she wrapped her arms around Brett’s neck and giggled. He breathed in her lovely smell and tried to kiss her neck. Instead she banged her skull into his. He had to laugh, her craziness fit with his usual type of stunts.

“We make a great team. What did you say to him?” He bounced her onto his lap as she climbed back to her side.

“I told him I was hungry.” She was still giggling as she wiggled over him.

“Hungry for what?” Brett asked. They laughed so hard Brett almost drove off the dirt track. The moon was rising, a yellow ball stuck in the trees. The night breeze blew cold as they turned onto the lodge’s driveway. She folded her arms under her breasts and shivered a little. He didn’t have his jacket to wrap around her.

“I’ve missed getting you to dinner. David will be wondering about that,” Brett said. He needed to get the right mood back, get her hand back on his thigh or something better.

“I told the Nelsons to, um, cover for me in case I wasn’t around, but I’m hungry. Too bad the lodge doesn’t do room service.”

“I’ll make you a sandwich.” Brett took her hand as he opened the side door of the main building. They would sneak inside, avoiding the torch lights. Peering in, he first listened, cupping his hand to his ear. She snickered as he bent over to check for any lights under closed office doors in the corridor. He shushed her as he led her in.

After three steps on the wood floor, she stopped him and slipped off her sandals, whispering, “My heels were clicking.”

They ran down the corridor to the kitchen. Opening the door, Brett contemplated bare feet on Cook’s floor. Not good. God knows if Cook swept up today. He bent to grab her around her knees. She tipped a bit off balance and he nudged his shoulder into her belly and slung her over his shoulder. She laughed and braced her hands against his shoulders, her sandals bumping his back.

“I can’t have you walking barefoot on a kitchen floor. Wouldn’t be right.” Brett deposited her on the long prep countertop. He’d liked the feel of her hands on his back, liked the feel of the back of her legs. “Are you up to a little warthog and mango chutney sandwich?”

“I love trying new food.” She chuckled, kicking her bare feet.

“David probably shot the hog himself.” Brett pulled out the rolls, the chutney, and the warthog roast and laid them out on the cutting board counter across from her. “It’s better cold.”

“We’ll need something to drink,” Elise said. Brett wondered, did her voice sound more sexy or was it echoing on the pots in the kitchen?

“I’m sure I can find something in here.” Brett buried his head in the drinks cooler. The wine was locked up; beer wasn’t right. “Soda?”

“I think I have something in my room,” she said. “Champagne.”

The door opened and David filled the doorway. “Brett, what in hell are you--Good evening, Miss Jorgensen.”

“Mr. Colton, good evening to you,” Elise said, sitting shoulders back, like she belonged there, perched on that counter. “We had a flat tire on our drive this afternoon. Brett had to change it. We only got back a minute ago.”

Colton stared. “A flat?”

“Yes, David.” Brett jumped on her story. She’d saved his ass twice in one night. If he stayed tight with her version of events, David won’t be able to yell. “I’ll take care of getting a new spare, right after I make Miss Jorgensen a sandwich.” Better not to try to explain to David why she had her shoes off. David would have to accuse Elise of lying to yell at him. A dangerous stillness hung with the odor of mango.

“We saw a leopard, Mr. Colton.” Elise’s voice sounded elegant, amid the stock pots hanging around her head. “I’ve had such a wonderful time. I can’t wait to tell the Lusaka Ladies Diplomatic Club all about it.”

“I’m glad, Miss Jorgensen. Please do tell all your friends about us,” Colton said. Brett kept slicing, head down, saying nothing. “Brett, your mother called, Isaac spoke to her, but you can’t have Monday off. Good night, Miss Jorgensen.”

“Good night,” Elise answered.

After the door closed, Brett slyly kissed her neck, thinking about his next move. Where should they go? He’d ask Isaac tomorrow what the hell David meant about Monday.

They couldn’t hang out on the lawn or in the lobby or her bungalow with David on the prowl. They couldn’t go to his room, next door to Jeremy. “How would you like a picnic on the roof? It has a great view of the waterhole.”

“Up where you and Isaac sit?” she asked. “That would be perfect. I’ll go get my champagne and meet you--where shall I meet you?”

“Meet me under the elephant head in the dining room,” Brett said. It fit with their craziness. Nobody else had ever spotted them on the roof.

Picnic basket in one hand, Brett lost his hold of the hatch and it banged against the roof. He set down the hamper and reached for her hand to guide her up the dark spiral stairs. As she reached the top step, her hip bumped his; he’d never stood next to Isaac on this step.

Brett climbed up, spread the tablecloth and sat. Around them the leaves fluttered, the trees sheltering them from the breeze, the stars winking overhead. As he stretched out his hand to her, he wondered why he’d never come up here at night before. “It’s not so steep.”

She handed him the champagne and crawled across the tablecloth. He dug out the sandwiches, a tea towel, and the salt cellar. She drew her knees to her chest, nibbling on a sandwich.

Brett concentrated on opening the champagne so he didn’t look like an inexperienced idiot and also to avoid staring at her chest. She nudged his elbow with the two glasses, little juice tumblers, all he could find. Hell, he didn’t know where Cook stored the champagne glasses. Her hair around her cheeks and neck created shadows that highlighted the length of her nose. Her eyes were bright spots in a dark plane. He used his thumb and pointer like a viewfinder--this image would be a great shot, with the right filter.

“I’m thirsty. I think I oversalted the warthog,” she said, flipping her hair back and changing all the shadows.

Brett poured and they sipped, the champagne prickling his nose.

“Where to put the bottle?” He and Isaac usually rested their beer bottles in their crotches. What to do with the damn thing?

“Give it to me.” Elise took the tea towel and made a nest for the bottle and a loop for her glass. She lay against the shingles. “The stars seem so close. Brett, do you like to travel?”

“Never done it much.” He wasn’t about to admit he’d never been out of the country. To be with her, he might travel.

She curled next to his chest. Still holding his glass, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders.

“This is nice, but not exactly stable,” she said.

“I’ve never slipped yet,” he said, trying to sound confident, but he wasn’t used to champagne and he’d never had to hold onto Isaac. “I won’t let you fall.”

“A fine gentlemanly sentiment.” She raised up on her elbows. “We need more champagne if you’re going all romantic on me.” She sipped and, setting her glass down, bumped the nest. The bottle started sliding.

Brett lunged, grabbing it. He didn’t need a fat glass bottle crashing on the veranda at midnight. He realized he was kneeling across her, on all fours like a dog. Rather awkward.

She giggled under him, resting on her elbows. Glancing over his shoulder, he had a terrific view--her nipples foremost, pressing against her shirt. He couldn’t believe his luck, the most gorgeous woman in the most insane setting.

“You have a fantastic view of the waterhole,” she said, peering over his back.

All her signals were encouraging, neck stretched long, shoulders relaxed, lips a bit open. He sat sideways, so he could look at her and the waterhole. If only something wonderful, like his leopard, would wander by, but only the moon drank at the waterhole tonight, its reflection a thin rippling wafer in the water.

The moonlight turned her yellow hair white, like the first night on the lawn. Why were they on the goddamn roof--what had he been thinking?

“More champagne, please,” she said, poking him.

He’d completely forgotten he held the bottle. He poured, then tucked it in the hamper, but when he turned back, she’d sat up.

Brett crawled to sit behind her, his legs around her hips. “Lean against me.” He wrapped his arm around her waist, and her spine melted against his chest. As she sipped champagne, he lifted her hair and stroked her neck. Next, down to the collarbone toward those perfect-“Is that Isaac down there?” She sat up.

Brett groaned. Isaac stood by the deck chairs. What brought him out on the lawn anyway? “Isaac often takes late night walks. We, um, all do.”

“Should we wave?”

“And have to share our champagne with him? Nah.” Brett prayed Isaac wouldn’t look up, but he did. Isaac lifted his hat, scratched behind an ear, and barely nodded. Brett saluted. Isaac resettled his hat and disappeared into the lodge.

Elise stood and raised her arms, looking like a strange blue tree with a white crown. “I think champagne is great by starlight, but let’s sneak back to my room.”

He grabbed her hand so she couldn’t fall. Why not go to her room? They both wanted to have fun, and it wasn’t going to work here on the roof. Now was all he had; tomorrow was coming as sure as the Southern Cross swirled overhead.

In Elise’s bed, Brett’s hand slipped off her thigh as she rolled away.

“What’s that sound,” Elise asked. In one fast motion, she yanked the sheet and then wrapped it around her.

“Hang on,” Brett shivered and reached for the blanket or the duvet or something. Midnight in June was cold. “Come back here.”

“I hear something,” She drifted across her bungalow, the sheet trailing behind her. Brett finally found the blanket next to the wall. After they had abandoned the roof, they crept through the dark lobby, teasing about the trophy heads and whether the puku could keep a secret.

“It’s the ellies under your balcony.” He eyeballed the floor. Where were his pants?

She opened the balcony sliding glass door.Brett pulled on his shorts, the zipper snatching at his belly. He yelped. She stood at the balcony railing, swishing the sheet like it was a formal gown.

“Come join me. Is that the baby we saw the other night?”

She knew, from the way she was posed, how she looked. He hesitated; anybody walking past would hear them talking. The old Shona saying, ’Don’t stop to look for the crocodiles half way across the river,’ buzzed in his head. He joined her and pointed to the hillside, five meters below them. “Yes, it’s Henry,” he answered. He kissed her, both because he could and to keep her from talking anymore. If it was after 1 a.m., it was likely David had gone to bed and wouldn’t catch him.

She turned in his arms, leaning her back against his chest. The trees were like black clouds against the sky. The moon was ducked behind a cloud so a hazy half light softened the hillside.

“There’s the Milky way.” He pointed overhead. “And I think that’s your Orion the hunter, isn’t it?”

“Brett?” David’s voice boomed on the path.

“Shit,” Brett whispered, burying his face in her hair. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Not to worry, I’ll say I was talking to my brother on my cell phone.”

It wouldn’t wash, he knew David would never believe it. Why would David have heard a cell phone caller’s voice and why would the brother be talking about the stars overhead. Damn David’s old fashioned moral code. Elise was fun but she was trouble times two.

She swirled the sheet, walked into the bungalow, dropped it and pulled on her robe. Then she marched over and opened her door. “Mr. Colton.”

Brett crouched in the balcony’s corner, hopefully invisible behind the curtains. She could have given him another second before she opened the door. If David saw him, it would be ugly, but he didn’t. In another minute, the door was shut and she was leading him back to bed. He’d try to sneak out in another hour.