A Delicious Mistake Page 7

  By the time Lindiwele put a plate of baked beans, roast tomatoes, eggs, sausage, and toast in front of her—complete with a glass mug of peppermint tea, all of which had been Sarah’s favorite meal as a girl—Sarah knew her face had darkened again.

  “Will you sit with me?” she asked Lindiwele.

  The woman nodded. “Of course.” She retrieved a mug for herself and sat at one end of the table next to Sarah. She took a hearty sip of her tea. “Peppermint is good for the soul, your father used to say.”

  “He still says it,” Sarah said, talking around a mouthful of eggs and sausage. It wasn’t lady-like at all, and blissfully enough, she never had to watch those things around Lindiwele. The woman had always allowed her to be herself and conceded her small, precious liberties that Sarah’s mother never had.

  “Well, he’s right,” the cook declared.

  Sarah smiled. “I guess.”

  They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, and then Sarah decided that she had to bring up the questions. Lindiwele would be expecting them. She had to know the reason why Sarah had returned.

  Quietly, she asked, “Have you seen him? Luke? Have you seen his body?”

  Lindiwele’s features tightened and her eyes darkened with pain. “No, child, I haven’t seen him. None of us have.”

  Sarah nodded. That much she had expected. “What was he thinking, going off on his own like that when there’s been so much poacher trouble recently?”

  Lindiwele watched her intently. “How do you know? Did the rangers tell you?”

  Sarah hesitated. “I’ve been talking to the police. To Tobias Bankole. He told me all he knows.”

  The old woman sighed. “That old fool. He’s so sentimental. He wouldn’t be able to refuse your family anything.” She stared hard at Sarah. “You know that, and that’s why you’ve been calling him.”

  Sarah shrugged. There was no point in denying it.

  “Why are you here, child?”

  Sarah met the woman’s stern gaze straight on. “I think you know.”

  Lindiwele took a deep breath. She looked like she was trying hard not to go off on a lecture—which was probably exactly the case. “You have to be careful. It might be wiser to let the police do their job.”

  Sarah stiffened and shifted on the hard chair. “They’re not doing it very well, are they? Is it true, Lindiwele? Is Benjamin Ndlovo their prime suspect?”

  “Oh, you hush now, child,” Lindiwele said sternly. “I don’t believe he did it. That man loved your brother.”

  “Maybe.” Sarah shook her head. She didn’t want to launch into an argument similar to the one she had already had with her mother. “But love and hate can be pretty close. I intend to go over to the police station in the morning to talk to him.”

  Lindiwele frowned. “He’s not at the police station.”

  Sarah started. She stared at the older woman. “Excuse me?”

  “He’s here. Working. He will be patrolling the lands in the morning, as usual. Why would he be at the police station?”

  “Because he’s a suspect!” Sarah cried, exasperated. “The prime suspect. Why hasn’t an arrest been made?”

  “He’s a suspect, not a convict.” Lindiwele pursed her mouth tight. She pushed one hand flat on the table. “Until they can prove anything, he’s an innocent man.”

  “They should be keeping him in custody.” Sarah pushed her tea away. “Has he at least been brought in for questioning?”

  “Yes,” Lindiwele said. “They released him afterwards. Until they can prove—”

  “Yes, I heard you the first time,” Sarah snapped.

  Lindiwele let out a sigh. She put a stare on Sarah, her dark eyes kind and worried and seemed to be searching Sarah’s face as if looking for someone she had once known. The old woman’s own features softened and her voice was gentle when she spoke next. “Nzuri Malaika, please don’t be rash. Do not let your sorrow blind you. Benjamin Ndlovo is a good man and you know it.”

  “Do I?” Sarah retorted. “How well do you ever really know anyone?”

  Lindiwele pressed her lips tight. She didn’t seem to have an answer to that question. Nobody did. Sarah had already lost count of the times that she had asked herself and others that very same question. How could she really know Benjamin was innocent? Maybe he was, but if there was even the tiniest possibility he wasn’t, the police had no business giving him the chance to run away.

  No longer hungry, Sarah took her plate to the sink. She insisted on washing up. She needed to do something. But the food sat in her stomach like a lump and the questions still haunted her.

  She looked down at her soapy hands and found her fingers fisted so tight around the cutlery that her knuckles had gone chalk white. She could feel her emotions spiraling out of control and stamped down on them. Rage and confusion churned inside her, and under them despondency waited, threatening to overtake her completely.

  She took a deep, calming breath. About one thing Lindiwele was right: she had to be careful. She had to tread gingerly and take the necessary precautions if she really wanted to bring down her brother’s killer—whoever he may be. Even if it proved to be Benjamin.

  Chapter Six: Desire Has a Will of Its Own

  The Serengeti didn’t bring her any peace. Sarah’s first night back in Africa was perhaps the most restless night she’d had to endure ever since the news of her brother’s death had reached her family. Despite having spent many a night as a child in this bed, she tossed and turned. The space seemed entirely unfamiliar to her now. Contrasting and disturbing dreams left her in a cold sweat.

  She woke from horrific visions of her brother’s awfully mangled body, so vivid in her mind that she curled into a ball and cried into her pillow. Other dreams…well, other dreams brought entirely different visions. They were of Benjamin—of his smile and his laugh. Of him teasing her like he had when she’d been a girl. She’d had these dreams before—dreams of his large hands touching her face, her arms, her body. Of his smile turning into a hot, searing look that lit an answering fire deep inside her. Of his sensual mouth and how it would be to kiss him—to touch him. She woke wet and aching, and all because of one man—Benjamin Ndlovo.

  She awoke from the last sexual dream a little before dawn. To her dismay, she found her sweat wasn’t just sweat. From between her thighs she dripped with need. Her heart thudded with longing, her whole body tingled with arousal. In her dreams, Benjamin had grown into the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes upon, the embodiment of any woman’s erotic fantasy. Tall, dark, exotic, and completely in control of his own sexual energy in a way that European males simply were not. He had touched her in ways she had never even thought possible. He thrust deep into her with slow, languid moves. He buried his face in her long auburn hair, inhaling the scent of her. He ran callused but gentle hands all over her body, feeling every inch of her skin as if he were exploring an unknown and yet already beloved territory. He had been enamored with her and bewitched by her—in her dreams. He had ravished her and loved her in the deepest, most physical sense of the term.

  And Sarah had offered herself to him, willingly and completely. Pliant, hungry, impatient, she had been electrically and sexually charged as she had never been before.

  It must be Africa, she thought.

  The overpowering sensations of the dream were still very much with her as she sat up in bed, breathing heavily, incredulous at what the night had brought her. What was she doing, having erotic dreams about Benjamin? She didn’t even have the faintest idea what he looked like these days. It had been eleven years since she had last set eyes on him. But even then, she remembered, she had been enthralled with him. At just over twenty years of age, he had been beautiful with a powerful, square, chiseled jaw that had made him look so masculine. Not to mention his abundance of lean, well-formed muscles, the result of an active life on the Serengeti plains where he had spend most of his time helping his father, who had also been a ranger.

  Maybe it
was just her old bed—the bed where she had once laid for hours, dreaming of him and wishing he would notice her.

  She had looked at him with the eyes of a girl back then. Her feelings for him had deeply affected her. Hell, she had filled out a whole diary detailing her schoolgirl crush on him. Even after all these years, she felt herself blush furiously as she remembered how Luke had found that diary. Her brother hadn’t said anything as he handed it back to her, claiming she had left it in the library. She had known from the mischievous look in his eyes that he had read it. She had also been sure he had told all to Benjamin. It had been the most mortifying occurrence of her young life. But the feelings of humiliation had passed quickly, and she had found herself unable to get over her fixation for the tall, handsome young African with his dark brown eyes. Every time he’d winked at her, Sarah had gone weak in the knees.

  It had taken her family moving back all the way to England for her to get over her crush. But she couldn’t figure out why now she was thinking of him again like this. Why she was dreaming of him with the dreams of a woman? Why she was responding to the image of him with the body of a woman? Sarah had had erotic dreams before, of course, but never so intense. It felt like her whole body was throbbing with desire.

  What was wrong with her? Perhaps it was the long, exhausting journey she had just endured. After all, pleasuring herself had always worked to relax her. Perhaps her frazzled nerves had sought solace in the only thing that had never failed to provide it, and her mind reacted to being back in Tanzania by conjuring up images of Benjamin. After all, the mind was a strange thing, and it liked to play tricks.

  Still, it disturbed her that she had dreamed up erotic scenarios for a man who might have killed her brother—or at the very least a man who had failed her brother.

  Her stomach churned suddenly, and she shot out of bed and made a rush for the private bathroom in her bedroom. She emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet, kneeling on the cool tiles. When the heaving subsided, leaving her sweating and weak, she stood on shaky legs and stumbled to the sink. She didn’t dare to take a look in the mirror hanging above the faucet. She couldn’t face how bad she must look. She certainly felt like something the cat not only had dragged in but eaten and spit back up. She imagined pale skin and sunken eyes with dark circles around them, and strands of auburn hair plastered to her face.

  Keeping her eyes well averted from the mirror, she splashed her face with cold water and brushed her teeth. By the time she finished, the lingering sensations from her dreams had dissipated. So had all traces of sleep. She felt wired, as if she had just ingested large amounts of caffeine. She was too frazzled and agitated to go back to bed.

  Heading back to her bedroom, she dressed in clean clothes. Practical clothes, too—a pair of khaki shorts, a black tank top, short socks and hiking boots. There was just no room for fashion trends on the Serengeti. Sarah had no trouble abandoning her vanity and slipping back into the comfort of garments that would allow her to walk far and run fast if needed. She wouldn’t need to, hopefully, but you never really knew—not in Africa.

  By the time she was ready to start her day, her emotions were still all over the place. Guilt for her dreams, lingering regret, nervousness that she would confront Benjamin today—the feelings tumbled around inside her. She smothered them, pushing them deep down where she wouldn’t find them and, most importantly, they wouldn’t find her for a while. It was time to go with the plan and allow action to help her forget her grief for a little while.

  Sarah walked out of her bedroom and crept downstairs. She could hear Lindiwele already busy in the kitchen, humming and talking to what must be other members of the household staff. She managed to avoid them all without being seen. Once outside, she took a deep breath and inhaled deeply, allowing the cool Serengeti morning air to seep into her lungs. In the East, the sun was rising over the plains, a bight ball of yellow-orange. The birds had come out and she could hear them fluttering and chattering in the nearby trees. Once again, Sarah found herself unable to appreciate the sight. The loss of Luke still tainted everything. Without a second thought, she headed right for headquarters, where she was sure she would catch Benjamin before he headed off on his first patrol of the day.

  Let’s get this over with, she thought.

  But as much as she tried to concentrate on practical matters, she found herself unable to really shake off her thoughts, emotions, and those lingering, betraying sensations from her dreams. Both the ones about Benjamin and the ones about Luke lurked close, as if waiting to jump out again. She took hardly any notice of where she was going and put her stare on the ground right in front of her feet. She really shouldn’t have been surprised when she slammed into a very solid, formidable obstacle with such force that she found herself falling backwards and landing on her ass.

  “Are you all right?” a deep, smooth voice said.

  Blinking in confusion, she looked up.

  A large, dark hand grabbed her arm and pulled her upright. She shook the help off, blinked again, and realization slammed into focus at the sight of the man in front of her.

  He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Tall, dark, and handsome was a description that fit him as perfectly as his ranger’s uniform. The partly unbuttoned shirt hinted at a strong chest underneath the fabric. Morning sunlight glinted off high cheekbones and a square, chiseled jaw. I could get lost in those dark, dark eyes, she thought.

  Her own eyes widened and her heart did a somersault in her chest. She knew him. She more than knew him. Her mouth dried and the word stuttered out, “Benjamin?”

  She swayed and he grabbed her arm again. She jerked away, stumbled, and almost fell again. The world narrowed to just this one man. Breathing fast and hard, Sarah put a hand to her chest. This was the man she had been dreaming of—this was the boy she had once loved, grown into someone who should have been dear to her. For all she knew, he could very well have killed her brother.

  He searched her face carefully. He stared back at her with the same incredulity etched on his handsome features that pounded inside her. “Sarah?”

  Something crackled between them, something invisible but almost tangible in its power. She felt it run over her skin and settle in her chest. She had to keep telling herself that this wasn’t the boy she had known. This was a towering, deeply attractive man. Those chiseled good looks of his had grown more defined and striking. At six feet he loomed over her. With those broad shoulders and athletic build she could see him hunting a lion with nothing more than a spear, the way his ancestors once had. He would also be a match against any man. She wet her lips and pulled in a breath, trying to slow the rapid breathing before she hyperventilated.

  His deep, dark eyes roamed over her with the same kind of unspoken surprise and appreciation that she knew she felt for him. What had just sparked between them was chemistry, an attraction as intense and undeniable as it was inappropriate. This man wasn’t a man Sarah could allow herself to be attracted to, not given the circumstances.

  She straightened and pushed her shoulders back. Her weak-kneed, love-struck days were well behind her. She simply had to know better than to give even one thought to how incredibly good looking Benjamin Ndlovo had grown up to be. Admittedly, he had an aura of pure maleness about him that he would make any adult female question her principles of good behavior and common decency. But not Sarah. Not her. No. She would not give in to that. She would not give in to him.

  She searched for and found the wave of red-hot anger she had directed at herself for one deplorable moment of weakness and purposefully turned it on him.

  “How could you?” she asked.

  Benjamin stared at her, dumfounded. “Excuse me?”

  “He trusted you! We all did.” She spat out the words, hoping to wound him as she had been wounded—hoping he would at least understand and explain.

  Benjamin frowned. He narrowed his eyes and the pulse beat in his jaw. “Sarah, what are you saying?”

  “W
hy are you the prime suspect behind my brother’s murder?” Sarah kept her voice low. She didn’t want anyone else to hear. She didn’t want to fire off a public accusation. Not yet. Not until—or rather not unless—she had proof.

  Benjamin shook his head. His shoulders drooped and for an instant Sarah wanted to reach out and grab her words back. She forced her hands into fists. For all she knew Benjamin had used such a look on her brother—used it to lure him into a friendship that Benjamin had betrayed. Sorrow etched his voice along with bitterness as he said, “I’m the last person who saw him alive.”

  Pulling in a breath, Sarah suddenly wondered if that was the truth and why Benjamin hadn’t stopped her brother. Why hadn’t he kept Luke safe? Maybe he wasn’t the man who had killed Luke, but was he the man who had allowed Luke to walk into a deadly trap. She had to know—and yet, she also didn’t want to know. Suddenly, the truth seemed a fearful thing. Voice shaking, she forced the words out. “And why is that?”

  “Sarah, you can’t possibly believe—?”

  “What am I supposed to believe, Benjamin?” She slashed a hand in the air, cutting him off verbally and physically. “You tell me, Benjamin Ndlovo. Why is my brother dead? Why are you being investigated?” He turned away from her. Fury burned in her guts. Stepping in front of him, she faced him and lashed out. “Why did you let it happen?”

  * * *

  Benjamin rocked back and away from Sarah—his Sarah. Only was she that anymore?

  She glared at him as if he was a stranger to her—a hated enemy.

  He had glimpsed a woman striding across the compound and had gone to meet her, wondering if it could indeed be who he thought. That mass of flaming red hair had reminded him of his Sarah, but with her eyes down he hadn’t been able to see if this woman had the striking emerald green eyes he remembered in the girl he had known. With her stare locked to the ground, she strode forward. He had tried to side step, but she collided with him. Instinctively, he had reached out to steady her. When it had been evident there was no avoiding a fall, he had tried to help her back onto her feet. She had batted off his hands as if she couldn’t bear his touch. Now that he looked at her—truly looked at her—he was unprepared for what he saw.