Noble Hearts (Wild Hearts Romance Book 3) (10 page)

“
Hapana!
No!”

Grudgingly, Ikeno lowered his rifle at my command.

Mshindi stalked up to the first hyena, the big male, and whistled at his size. “
Nzuri, jumbe?
” he called to me.

Was
I okay? “
Nydio
.” I answered. “We’re okay.”

As Ikeno approached Tamu and Nyota cowering at the edge of the paddock, Mshindi was already making his way to the female hyena there to ensure the bullet had been true. These men were protective of their cattle and held little love for hyenas who could easily take a calf in the night, but they were also compassionate men who would not allow a beast—any beast—to suffer.

When the aimed rifle didn’t fire, I knew the kill had been clean. I was thankful for that—and surprised at Mark’s marksmanship.

“Where did you learn to shoot?”

“Just lucky I guess.” His dark eyes wouldn’t meet mine.

“One shot might be luck. Two is skill.” I didn’t press him, though. My terrified orphans were still backed against the fence, careful not to touch it, but crowding as far from the hyena and Ikeno as possible. Ikeno wasn’t a stranger to them, but only the children ever came up on rare occasion to gawk at the orphans and help feed them. The more practical adults indulged my strange behavior that went so counter to their own. If the rhino and okapi weren’t destined for the table, why spend resources to raise them? Weren’t there enough rhinos and okapis on the mountain already? Not that any of them would ask me that directly, but the children were less guarded when it came to repeating the things they heard their parents gossip about.

With a squeeze to Mark’s hand and a kiss to Gus’s head, I hurried across the paddock to comfort the
watoto
, nodding my thanks to Ikeno as he joined Mshindi to carry the 50-kilo hyena out. They would dress the hyenas and share the meat out, mainly for stews and flavoring, as hyena meat tended to be tough and gamy. Part of it would be offered to me. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have the stomach for these particular hyenas myself, but by the time I boiled the meat, Gus wouldn’t know the difference.

When it came to my little menagerie, nothing much went to waste.

Crouching in front of Tamu and Nyota, I waited for them to come to me, welcoming them each in turn with a hug and a kiss to the muzzle. It was a fine line to tread if I intended to release my little orphans later into the wild. They needed assurance now that all again was right in their world, while at the same time I didn’t want to diminish the danger and the fright they’d had. I wanted them to remember hyenas were their enemy and to know hyenas didn’t always drop down dead in the middle of an attack.

On the former point I was successful as their trembling quieted and they took tentative steps toward the middle of the paddock with the hyena had been. I walked with them and encouraged them to sniff and explore the spot where it had fallen as my men dragged the carcass under the lowest strand of fencing only a few meters from where Mark still knelt with Gus. Mark’s attention on Gus seemed a little too intense for my comfort.

With a final pat for the rhino and okapi, I left them to their further explorations and hurried back to Mark and Gus. “How is he?”

“He’s got a couple of deep puncture wounds. Not too bloody, so no big vessels are involved. A lot of pain and bruising, though, I imagine.”

“And?” Mark’s deep look of concern didn’t match his prognosis.

“I’ve heard”—he dropped his gaze away from mine and lowered his voice—“I’ve heard rabies is fairly prevalent in this region.”

Extending my hand, I lifted his chin with gentle fingers till he couldn’t help but meet my eyes again. “Be direct with bad news,” I told him. “Authority first, compassion second. At least that’s what I want from a doctor.” I smiled at his look of bewildered surprise. “You think I don’t know about our rabies epidemic? Gus gets vaccinated yearly, as do our cows and the other dogs and the wild golden cat and the aardvark the children keep—kept—on the plantation. Does that surprise you?”

“Honestly? Yes. Being so remote, I don’t know what medicines and vaccines and supplies Ushindi has access to. And no, because I’m learning that nothing you do should surprise me. No matter how surprising it may be.”

“Do you mean like this?” Leaning over the top of Gus’s head, I planted my mouth firmly on Mark’s. His lips were firm and cold at first, not expecting the assault, but they warmed quickly, sliding against mine with building friction and more than a hint of desire.

When I broke the kiss off and pulled away, his lips followed mine, reluctant to let go.

“Yeah. Just like that,” he breathed.

His voice, low and husky, sent tremors down my spine.

My body wanted him, craved to know him, that much was sure. What I was feeling for him emotionally—that wasn’t as clear. I had to be careful. Gratitude, I knew, could manifest itself in the most unexpected ways, could make me feel like my body’s signals—the shortness of breath, the jolts of electricity, the tingle in my stomach and parts lower—were indications of things that weren’t really real.

I didn’t want to make a move I wasn’t genuinely ready for emotionally or that I would regret immediately. Just because he was available and receptive, and I was grateful for his quick actions, didn’t mean I was obligated to him in any way.

No matter how much my body might disagree with that assessment.

But even if I was prepared to relent, Gus had to be taken care of first.

Taking Mark by the hand—a gesture that seemed to come more and more naturally each time I reached out—I led him and Gus back to the kitchen, to safety, to the place where I felt most comfortable about making a decision that could affect me for a day, a week, or even a lifetime.

It was curious how quickly I’d come to think of Kayla’s kitchen as Ushindi’s heart. I had to do nothing more than sit at the modest block of table in that large and welcoming room to feel as though I were sitting by every hearth, every fire that had provided a feeling of comfort and family stretching back through the millennia. A
déjà vu
of the species.

An immediate feeling of belonging.

What else belonged right now were my skills as a doctor. Which, it turned out, were little different today than the ones Kayla had displayed a couple of days before. While Kayla held the Rottweiler still, I cleaned his wounds and dribbled in some of Kayla’s stockpiled penicillin.

Then her warm and wonderfully competent hands were on me doing the same to my cleanly healing bullet wound before cutting a Percocet in half and sharing it between Gus and me.

Released from his bedroom, Jengo wrapped a worried arm around the big dog in fair imitation of the arm Kayla wrapped briefly—maybe even suggestively?—around me. She looked at me with secret eyes.

What signals was she sending me? Was she sending any at all? I knew what signals I wanted her to send, but I didn’t want to misread anything and layer my rising desire over what might have been nothing more than good Samaritanism on her part. At the same time, if it was something more Kayla might be feeling, I didn’t want to miss it. And most assuredly didn’t want to ignore it.

I remembered her earlier counsel to “be direct.” I knew any number of men who would be in my situation. Who would go after what they wanted whether permission had been granted or not. I half-envied their chutzpah, but I was also fairly sure not all women responded well to caveman tactics. I was equally sure by “direct” Kayla didn’t mean to be aggressive but to be honest, to give voice to the issue at hand without being coy. To relay my need to her distinctly and give her time to process it in her own way.

But by the time I’d worked through all that, she was withdrawing her arm and turning her eyes to other matters. The first of which landed on the table in front of me. Her phone.

“See if there are any updates on your flight situation,” she encouraged as she turned to the stove to heat milk for her orphans.

By the time I’d logged into my email account, she already had pans and bowls out for a repeat of breakfast from yesterday.

Had my hesitation cost whatever moment might have been?

The news from Doctors MD wasn’t good. At least, that was my first interpretation of it. “How far is Bujumbura?” I asked.

“In Burundi? About 600, maybe 650 kilometers. Why?”

So maybe 400 miles. “Just looking for alternatives. I can’t get a flight out of Ushindi before next Thursday, and even that’s looking iffy right now. Flights in and out of the Sudans are being canceled left and right because of the
Subs
fear and quarantine measures. I thought maybe something further south might be the answer.”

“Trying to get across the border into Rwanda or Burundi you’ll run across some strict emigration policies no matter how good an order your passport’s in. Red tape that’ll force you to remain a guest of the DRC for another two to five days or so, plus as much in bribes as they can get out of you. There’s also a major airport in Goma. Although I’m not sure how safe I’d feel driving there.”

I shook my head. “
Subs
is showing up there too, and they’re going into lockdown. Jeez, the United Nations is getting involved in all this. They’re not sending in personnel because of the
Subs
danger, but they’re making policy and preemptively sending relief dollars. Aid and supplies, too, but the Doctors MD report says the UN will be parachuting those in. At least until the airports can be sprayed. Even then, spray won’t touch any of the mosquito populations that are indoors. This is really turning out to be… massive.”

Kayla’s thin-lipped frown turned even more serious. “If I were a political faction trying to strong-arm my way into office, I would pick an opportunity for military action when the UN’s attention was turned elsewhere and when outside help was being cut off. What better time for the Ushindi Democrats to strike?”

I couldn’t disagree, no matter how much I wanted to wipe that disconcerting frown and Kayla’s escalating concern away. I had a choice—to be cold and analytical about this and risk alienating Kayla completely. To downplay the seriousness and not prepare her for the probable reality of what was coming. Or to come to some sort of compassionate compromise between truth and hope, and offer her my unswerving strength and support in the days ahead.

They were, I realized, the same choices I had as a doctor delivering unwelcome news to my patients. The analytical approach had always seemed easiest. But who was that easier on, me or them?

Kayla wasn’t stupid. Far from it. She knew the score here—probably better than I did. She didn’t need, or want, a cold analysis of what she was already quite aware of. Nor did she need, or want, sugarcoated assurances that promised rainbows and unicorns. She probably didn’t even
need
my acknowledgment and comfort. But who wouldn’t
want
that, especially in a time of stress?

Even more, it was what I wanted to share with her. I held to that feeling, maybe finally understanding all that the word
compassion
implied.

Taking her hand, I squeezed it gently in mine. “Let’s talk about your options if it comes to that.”

She shook her head. “What options? Whatever happens in Hasa happens. I have no family there, other than the families who’ve left Zahur and who’ve gone into the city knowing the risks. So I stay here, waiting like everyone else to see what the next political play may be. There is nothing constructive I can do, so I’ll do nothing except watch and worry.”

Right now I was thinking of one thing she could be doing. Maybe it was time to try that ‘direct approach’ suggestion of hers. “How about something non-constructive?” I asked.

She blinked her non-comprehension at me.

I covered her held fingers with my other hand, sandwiching her warmth between.

“I’d very, very much like to go back to bed.”

“But there’s breakfast to cook and milk to—Oh. You mean go back to bed… together.”

I leaned in close, to where Kayla’s face filled my vision, ignoring Jengo’s jealous hoots. “I’m thinking my flight delay may not be such a bad thing after all.”

I waited for her decision, my lips no more than a breath space from hers. She could refuse the invitation, or…

“Are you trying to seduce me, Dr. LeSabre?” she whispered.

“A very wise puppet once said, ‘There is no try.’”

She smothered a laugh, not quite successfully.

I thought I’d killed another moment, but then her lips were on mine, just as soft and sure as I remembered them. They molded perfectly to mine over the corner of the table, an awkward distance away from the rest of her.

And it was the rest of her my body craved. Blood rushed down and the part of me where it gathered leapt suddenly, struggling in the confines of my shorts. My hands trembled, eager to touch, to stroke, to feel.

Eyes closed, I melded into the kiss as anticipation shivered through me, clasping her hand between mine, focusing on each finger ridge, each bluntly filed nail, each deep wrinkle in the hand that joined ours from above—

Opening my eyes, I found myself nearly nose to nose with Jengo, as his impressive set of baby teeth bared in a wide gorilla smile.

My half-erection faltered. “Uh—”

Kayla gathered the little gorilla into her lap. She laughed. “At least he likes you.”

“I was more hoping
you’d
be the one liking me right now.”

“Jealous?” She narrowed her eyes. “Ah, I can see both of you are. Well, little man”—it took a moment to realize she was referring to the gorilla and not me—“why don’t you see if you can find your own playmate for a bit.” She scooted him off her lap, led him to the blanket where Gus had curled up to nurse his wounds and wrapped Jengo’s arms around the dog. “Take care of Gus.” Dutifully, the gorilla plopped his butt next to the Rottweiler and hugged him tighter.

The sentiment in the soulful eyes Gus turned up to Kayla couldn’t have been more plain. It was the exact same expression my uncle had had whenever I crawled into his lap as a kid and demanded attention.

The expression in Kayla’s eyes when she turned back to me was just as clear. While Jengo was busy taking care of Gus, Kayla would be busy taking care of me.