“It’s amazing,” Rick said after Kathleen left. “How did you find her?”
“I didn’t find her. Fate brought us back together. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to leave her again. Ever.”
“My timing and my judgment were both off.”
“No. You did what you had to do. Bring me up to date on the mines.”
“You don’t want to hear about this Tokolosh character first?”
“No. As far as I’m concerned, he’s already in hell. He might as well stay there.”
Rick poured himself another cup of coffee, then sat back down at the table to begin the long, detailed report on La Farge Diamond Company. By the time he’d finished, they were famished. Hunter ordered pizza, and they ate it with single-minded concentration.
“This man could be the real thing, you know,” Rick said, as if he were reading Hunter’s mind.
“I know.”
“I could have an investigator check him out.”
“No.” Hunter crammed the pizza scraps into the garbage can and slammed the lid. “Let sleeping dogs lie.”
“If you’re sure that’s what you want.”
“I’m positive.”
Rick stood up, stretching and yawning. “I’m bushed. I really am going this time.”
“How long are you planning to stay?”
“A few days. I thought I’d visit the relatives, maybe call a few old girlfriends and play the big-shot. Do you think the hat makes me look sexy?”
“The women won’t be able to resist you,” Hunter said, chuckling.
“Your eyes glow like the pits of hell when you lie.”
“How do you know what the pits of hell look like?”
“‘Cause I’ve been living there for years.”
“You hate Africa, don’t you?”
“I’m not like you, Hunter. All that untamed land suits you. All that blasting into the earth and wrestling out its treasures.” Suddenly self-conscious, Rick crammed his hat onto his head. “Hell, don’t pay any attention to me. It’s all this moonlight and magnolias that have me crying in my beer.”
“Want me to call a cab?”
“No. I’ve just got my duffel. I’ll catch the trolley.” He shook Hunter’s hand, then squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll call you.”
As soon as Rick left, Hunter hurried over the path to see Kathleen. Her house was dark and silent.
Standing in the darkness, he saw a shadow pass across her window.
I love you, Kathleen.
She stood at the window, her white gown glowing in the moonlight.
I won ‘t leave you again.
The shadow moved away. Hunter could hear his blood throbbing through his veins. He threw back his head, and a sound, half moan, half howl, rose up from his chest and echoed through the night.
As he made his way back to his empty cottage, he thought about Kathleen and Rick. When he’d left for Africa, one had stayed behind and one had followed. And he’d failed them both.
“I won’t fail you again, Kathleen,” he whispered.
He undressed in the dark and lay in his lonely bed. Just as sleep began to claim him, he thought of the man who called himself Tokolosh. Could he really be telling the truth?
o0o
Kathleen sat on the padded bench in front of her dressing table, fully dressed. She opened her watch and ran her hand over its face. Five a.m. And already she’d been up an hour.
She picked up her hairbrush and ran it through her hair. If a hundred strokes were good for it, then two hundred would be better. She heard the tiny sparks of static electricity as she raked the brush through her long silky tresses.
Would Hunter be sleeping? Passion smoked through her, and she had to curl her arms around herself to keep from crying out. No sense in waking Martha. She worried too much as it was.
Kathleen laid down the hairbrush and checked her watch once more. Five-thirty. Would he be up yet?
Unable to sit still any longer, Kathleen got a veiled hat from the closet and quietly let herself out the door. Dew clung to her shoes and wet the hem of her long skirt.
She felt his presence long before she arrived at the tree. A melting sensation overtook her loins, and she had to stop to get herself under control.
How could she send him away if her body kept betraying her?
“Kathleen.”
He caught her hand and pulled her through the curtain of moss. His arms were strong around her, and for a moment she leaned her head against his chest, breathing in his scent.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said.
“Neither could I.”
She felt the tremor that ran through him. Suddenly his mouth was on hers and she was clinging to him, hungry, desperate, unable to let go. His hands moved over her body, and she felt all her defenses crumbling. Soon, very soon, she’d lose herself. She’d lie on the damp grass behind the soft summer curtain of moss pressed so close against Hunter that she couldn’t tell where she left off and he began.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Oh, please, don’t make me need you.”
Still holding her close, he dropped her veil back into place.
“You might as well tell me to stop breathing, Kat. As long as I have breath in my body, I’ll try to make you need me.”
“I don’t want to want you, Hunter. I don’t want to need you.”
“Nothing has changed.”
“Everything has changed.” She felt the first warm rays as the sun began to climb the sky. “We must go inside. I can’t risk detection.” He parted the lace curtain, and she held tightly to his elbow. “Hurry, Hunter. Please hurry.”
He picked her up and carried her. Underneath the veil she set her jaw in stubborn lines. Nothing would make her change her mind, not the way her blood raced or the way his heart pounded against hers, not the melting heat of her loins. She was already a prisoner of darkness; she would not be a prisoner to passion.
Inside the door he tightened his hold on her.
“Put me down, Hunter.”
“I should never have stopped at the door.”
“You’re an honorable man.”
“Don’t count on it. Do you know what I want to do, Kat?” Her heart slammed against her ribs as she waited for him to speak. “I want to carry you to my bed and bury myself in you so deep that nothing can separate us.” He flung aside her hat and buried his face in her hair. “You’re my life, Kat. I’ll never let you go.”
Breathing became difficult. Kathleen clung to the last of her willpower, hoping she had enough to get her through the conversation with Hunter and back to her cottage.
“Let me go, Hunter.”
“Only for the moment.”
He set her on her feet, and she made her way into his kitchen. A chair that hadn’t been pushed back to the table was suddenly in her path, and she was moving too fast to stop. It crashed to the floor.
“Are you all right?” Hunter gathered her into his arms, running his hands down her body. “Did you hurt yourself?”
The rage she’d kept bottled up for months suddenly spilled over.
“No, I’m not all right. I’m blind and it’s never going to get any better.” She jerked out of his grasp and bent to pick up the chair.
“Kat... don’t.”
“Don’t? Don’t what? Don’t tell the truth? Don’t get mad?” She threw the chair as hard as she could and heard it bounce against the wall. “I’m mad, Hunter. I’m damned mad. I want to see. I don’t want to be dependent on the kindness of strangers to keep from my running into furniture and stumbling over curbs.”
“You don’t have to depend on the kindness of strangers. You have me.”
“I will not be somebody who has to be taken care of.”
“Dammit, Kat. This is not about taking care of you. It’s about love. I love you.”
“You love your vision of me.”
There was a thundering silence. She could feel Hunter’s anger heating to the boiling point.
“And what do you love, Kat?” His voice was silky and deadly. “Yesterday in my bed when you were screaming my name, what did you love? Some fanciful memory or the flesh-and-blood man you clung to?”
“Damn you, Hunter.”
“Damn me all you like, Kathleen. You can’t change the truth.” He caught her shoulders. “That was love, Kat. I’m in your blood the same way that you’re in mine, and nothing you can say will ever change that.”
His body heat seared her even through their clothes. She could hear the harsh rise and fall of his breathing, could picture the fierce light that shone in his black eyes.
Dear Lord in heaven. He was going to be next to impossible to resist. As desire coiled through her she wondered if she even wanted to resist. How easy it would be walk down the hall and lock the door. How easy to lose herself in the magnificent primeval dance that made all others seem meaningless.
“I will not be persuaded, Hunter. And I will not hang around until this passing fancy of yours turns to pity.”
“Is this pity, Kat?” He slammed his mouth down on hers and ravaged her with his tongue. The fires they’d kindled the day before had merely been banked, and his new assault brought them to full flame. Her knees began to buckle, and he caught her with an arm around her waist.
“Or this?” he said as he shoved aside her skirt and roughly dragged her hips into his. Her breath sawed through her lungs as he ground against her.
“You won’t succeed with your barbaric tactics.”
“Tell me it’s pity, Kat. Say that you don’t make my blood boil... that you don’t feel the heat.”
“You always were virile, Hunter. That hasn’t changed.”
Suddenly all the rage went out of him, and he smoothed down her skirt then stroked her cheeks.
“You are my life, Kat,” he said. “That hasn’t changed. It will never change.” He traced her lips, and unable to resist, she licked the tips of his fingers.
Passion swept through her like a firestorm, and she closed her eyes, melting, consumed.
“Six months, Kat,” he whispered. “Don’t deny us six months.”
Six months of delicious eroticism. The sun sliding over her skin with Hunter deep inside her. Her cries of pleasure beating upward like the powerful wings of eagles. The sweet, salty taste of him. Limbs entangled, slick and shining with their combined sweat. His head on her pillow. Never being alone in the dark.
She trembled. Some sacrifices were unbearable.
She covered his hand with hers and with great deliberation sucked his index finger. The passionate rumblings that rose in his throat were like the growl of a great wolf. Every nerve ending in her body screamed for relief.
Kat ignored her traitorous body. She had to be strong. She had to challenge Hunter on equal terms. Weakness would be their undoing.
“Kat... you’re driving me mad.”
He bent down and kissed her till she was near the screaming edge of release.
Shaken by the depths of her own passion, she disentangled herself and took a step back.
“I would be a fool to deny the passion between us, Hunter. It has a life of its own.” She made her way to the kitchen table, needing to put more distance between them. With her back pressed against the edge of the table, she turned to him. “If we give in to this passion now, it will destroy us both.”
“It will save us both.”
“No. Already I can think of nothing except being in your arms.”
“That’s where I want you. Always.”
“The man who might be your father is waiting for you in Africa.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Yes. It still matters.”
Hunter might lie to himself, but he would never lie to her. She heard his footsteps as he went to the sink and drew water. He pressed a tall, cool glass into her hand, then pulled out her chair.
“Nothing is important enough to make me leave you, Kathleen.” His chair scrapped against the hardwood floor.
“I won’t be your jailer.”
“If your arms are a prison, I would willingly die there.”
Kathleen couldn’t help but smile. Hunter still had poetry in his soul.
“See,” he said. “I’ve made you smile. That’s a good start.”
“Don’t be fooled by my smile. It hides a will of iron.”
Hunter’s laughter ricocheted off the kitchen walls.
“You’ve forgotten, my love. I have the blowtorch.”
It wasn’t his magnificent arrogance that angered her, but her reaction to it. She felt challenged, revitalized, as if she were a sun-starved philodendron that someone had just put in a window with eastern exposure.
“You have to go,” she added. “If you don’t find out whether this man is your father, you’ll always wonder.”
“I’m a La Farge. My name is what I’ve made it, Kat. I don’t need the name of some stranger.”
“I understand that. But you need to know, Hunter.”
“I left you once, Kathleen. I will never leave you again.”
“Then I have no choice but to leave you.”
She pushed back her chair and stood up. Poised for flight, she fully expected Hunter to reach out and grab her wrist or to stand up and block her exit to the door or even to lift her into his arms and carry her off as a lion would his hard-earned quarry. He made no move. The electric silence sent shivers along her skin.
She had almost gained the door when his voice cut through her like a whip.
“You forgot your hat.” His boots thundered across the floor, and she felt the hat being shoved into her hand.
With her chin thrust out, she rammed the hat onto her head and lowered her veil. Suddenly she felt suffocated. She balled her hands into fists and took deep breaths.
Hunter opened the door for her. God, he was making it so easy. Too easy.
Bright sunshine poured through the doorway. Only yesterday she and Hunter had lain together in its hot rays in the bottom of a small skiff, their laughter as sharp and clear as the birdcalls from the bayou.
Sometimes yesterdays vanished so quickly.
“You were right, Kathleen.” His voice cut through her reminiscing. “I was in love with a vision.”
She stood perfectly still, one hand unconsciously clutching her locket.
“The woman I knew would never run away,” he added. “The Kathleen Shaw I loved fought for what she wanted.”
She was glad the veil hid her face.
“I’m fighting for what I want. I want to dance again. Not in my studio alone, but onstage for all the world to see.”
“Dancing is enough for you, then?”
No. Now that Hunter had come back into her life, dancing would never be enough.
“Dancing will be enough,” she said.
“Mining diamonds will not be enough for me, Kathleen. My passion demands a partner.”
She hated them all, the women who had already been his partners and the ones who would come after she left.
“You won’t have any trouble finding one, Hunter. Good luck.”
Her foot was on the top step when he stopped her again. The steely command in his voice was impossible to ignore.
“It’s not my pity you should worry about, Kathleen. It’s your own.”
“I don’t pity myself.”
“Don’t you? Then why are you running away, if not out of self-pity?” She put up a hand to stop him, but Hunter was relentless. “It’s not loss of vision you need to worry about, but loss of spirit.”
“How dare you...” She drew back and swung her fist just the way he’d taught her. She felt the jolt as it connected with his midriff.
“I dare that. And more.” She swung at him with both fists. “Hit me, Kat. Show some fighting spirit.”
She pommeled him with the same single-minded vengeance she used to attack her dancing problems. Sweat beaded her upper lip and her hat fell to the floor. Still she battered at him.
Finally she sagged, all the fight gone. Hunter gathered her in his arms and drew her close.
“You don’t need to fight me, Kat. I’m not the enemy.”
“I know.” She rested her head against his chest. “You may be the best friend I ever had.”
“Let me be your friend again, Kat.”
She wrapped her arms around him, drawing on his good solid strength.
“If you will let me be yours.” She lifted her face, and in her mind she could see him gazing down at her. She knew exactly how his eyes would look, how he would hold his mouth. “You’ve done all the giving, Hunter. There can be no true friendship without reciprocity. I won’t be a charity case.”
“You were never a charity case.”
“But it was all one-sided. I had all the problems and you had all the solutions.”
“God knows, I have problems.”
“Then let me help you.”
“You already have. More than you’ll know.” He kissed the top of her head. “You’re balm to my weary soul, Kat. You’re a taste of heaven for a man who has been in hell.”
“Have you been in hell, Hunter?”
“Yes. A thirteen-year hell without you. I won’t leave you again, Kat. You need to understand that.”
Another stalemate. Kathleen remembered the weeks she’d lain in a hospital bed, battered, deaf, blind—and planning her comeback. She would return to the stage again. But what was a career without Hunter? Was it possible to have it all? And did she have the courage to try?
If she didn’t, she’d always wonder. She reached out into the perpetual darkness and felt the sure, strong grip of Hunter’s hand.
“Suppose I go with you?” she said.
“To Africa?”
“Don’t you have a house there?”
“I have a whole damned compound. You can have a state of the art dance studio with round the clock security. There will be no need to wear veils and mustaches.” Suddenly he scooped her into his arms, whooping with joy. “You’re brilliant, Miss Shaw. Did I ever tell you that?”
“Extraordinarily brilliant, I’d say.”
“So would I.”
He came to a halt and perched her on the edge of the kitchen counter. She wrapped her arms and legs around him.
“I’m scared, Hunter.”
“Only fools are never scared.” He kissed her eyes, her cheekbones, her jaw, the base of her throat. “There’s no fear big enough that the two of us can’t conquer. Africa is nothing to be afraid of.”
It was not Africa she was afraid of.
“Hunter.” She said his name again because the sound of it somehow reassured her. His hands whispered along the front of her silk blouse, and she felt the slow uncoiling of desire. She reached for his zipper. “Make love to me, Hunter.”
He slid into her, and she lost herself in that swift hot joining. Reason departed. For Kathleen there was nothing except the reality of Hunter and the smooth hard surface of the Formica underneath her naked thighs.