Page 37 of Love in the Wild

“Well, in Little Rock the summer heat is almost as hot as this jungle. The cicadas—those are insects—they buzz so loud that you can’t hear anything else in the late summer evenings. Mom is usually on the swing on the front porch, a drink in one hand and a book in the other.” She paused to cuddle closer to him. “Dad is usually out in the shed—sort of a small home to store things in—and he’d be fussing over his newest tools.” She sighed. “I miss them.”

It was true. He could hear it in her voice, and he knew that letting her go was the right thing to do, even if it broke his heart. She would be happy.

“Tell me about the jungle,” she said. “About your adventures with Akika and Tembo.”

Thorne held her close, taking in the scent of her, imprinting it upon his soul. “Every animal has its place, from the mighty Tembo to the smallest insect. I grew up in the trees, swinging among the vines and facing down the dangers of the jungle.”

She yawned, and he could feel her slip slowly into sleep as he spoke. Eden was asleep before he finished, but he continued to talk, speaking to her of his new hopes and dreams, that perhaps one day she would return to him. But only the creatures of the twilight jungle were witness to his confession of love and hope.

9

Eden followed Thorne, careful to step only where he stepped. He had warned her after breakfast that they would be walking toward an area of the jungle that held more danger—which, given what she’d already experienced, was saying something. He’d been insistent that she stay close, step where he stepped, and not touch anything thin and green, referring to the black mamba snakes of the area, which were actually grayish brown, and whose bite was fatal.

They hiked down the sloping mountain and left the canopy of hagenia trees behind them before they journeyed into the bamboo forests. They reached the village by early evening, but Thorne remained at the edge of the woods. He would not go farther.

She saw him studying the structures with intense focus, and Eden followed his gaze. He was watching the people who were interacting in the street. She knew he’d never been into the village before.

He nodded toward the village. “Bwanbale lives there.” None of the villagers could see them, hidden as they were in the foliage.

“Aren’t you coming with me?” Eden took hold of Thorne’s hand.

“No. I stay in my world.” He looked back at the dense jungle behind him. “You can go home now.” He stood so still, a tall, breathing wall of muscle. She could feel his heart beating as she placed her other hand on his chest. His blue eyes, with a color so pure and reflective whenever he looked at her, were dark with mystery and pain now. Agony because they had to say goodbye.

Eden found it hard to breathe. The thought of leaving him, of never seeing him again—it wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Eden threw her arms around him, hugging him tight.

“Come with me.Please, Thorne.” She would have begged on her knees if she thought it would have made a difference. Thorne raised her chin, and she saw a deepening pain glinting in their gentle depths.

“You must go. Tell Bwanbale you belong to me. The mate of Thorne will be protected.”

His mate.Eden couldn’t deny that claim. It was primitive. But it was also true. In a few short days, she truly felt as though she had become his mate,hiswoman in a way she never would be with any other man.

“Thorne.” She choked on his name, the pain so deep within her that she wasn’t sure she would ever feel joy again.

He lowered his head to hers and pressed a kiss to her lips. She felt that kiss deep within her soul. It was a kiss of goodbye, a kiss of infinite longing, heartache, and love.

“Be free, Eden. Go home.”

Helovedher. She could taste its bittersweetness upon her own lips.

“You gave me great joy,” Thorne said. “I belong to you.Always.”

Eden’s eyes blurred with tears. She shut them and looked away, trying not to let him see her cry. She felt his hands drop from her body, and by the time she turned back to him, the lost Earl of Somerset and Lord of the Wild was gone.

She covered her mouth with one hand, desperate to hold back the sobs that came next. Part of her wondered if it hadn’t been some insane dream. But the gold ginkgo leaf necklace lay warm against her neck, a reminder that it had been real.

It only made the pain of their parting that much worse.

Eden did not venture into the village right away. Part of her hoped some other option would miraculously present itself. She stayed at the edge of the village until evening came. Only then did the dark jungle lose its comforting presence, and she longed to be surrounded by people again.

The village was a loose grouping of small family farms known asshambas. They bled into the rolling green hills in the distance that led toward the papyrus-lined shores of a small lake. As Eden came out of the woods, some of the children noticed her and came running. Many wore green-and-blue school uniforms. Several laughed and called out to her in Swahili, but she couldn’t understand most of what they were saying because they were speaking too fast. One girl dashed right up to Eden and clasped her hand, chatting excitedly in Swahili, a bright, beautiful smile on her adorable face.

“Bwanbale,” Eden said, hoping one of the children would know him. Eden looked to the girl still holding her hand. “Can you take me to Bwanbale?”

The girl nodded, tugging her ahead of the others, who still clambered around her. They all seemed excited by her intrusion upon their peaceful village, which put her a little more at ease.

A pair of brown parrots flew overhead and landed on the roof of a nearby home. Some of the children pointed to the parrots and ran off to play. Several adults from the village came out of their houses to see what was going on. So many people had the wrong perception about African communities. They assumed everyone lived in grass huts and beat drums while wearing no clothes. There were still some very tribal communities existing in Africa like that, but much of Africa was advanced, and the villages and cities were perfectly comfortable. Bwanbale’s village was a lovely grouping of well-built homes, small gardens, and farms. The villagers were well dressed, and they had modern cars, trucks, and tools. She understood now how Thorne would have been confused by Bwanbale’s very modern world when the two talked during their times together.

The air smelled of earth and blossoms, with a hint of woodsmoke from cooking fires. A faint drumbeat and some singing drifted from the direction of the lake where some men and women were gathered. The lake was a deep purple beneath the setting sun, and though the sight was breathtaking, she had a mission and could delay no longer.

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