A Spear of Summer Grass - By Deanna Raybourn Page 0,74

water on a hot day at noon.

“‘I am to see to it that I do not lose you.’” Ryder finished. I did not have to look at him to know he had shifted his gaze. He wasn’t staring at the pug marks then or looking for ant-bear holes or stray snakes.

Gideon spoke first. “I do not remember this poem of Mr. Whitman’s. What is it called?”

“‘To a Stranger,’” I said quickly. I glanced at Ryder and his mouth curved into a slow smile.

“Familiar with it?”

“Yes.” I tried not to think of the words on his lips. Breast and beard and hands and body.

Gideon spoke again. “I think that I like best the ‘Song of Myself.’ Will you say this one, Bwana?”

Ryder turned back to the tracks cutting through the long grass and began to speak. We walked on, each step marked with a syllable of the poem, the words slipping gently into my ears, music for our journey. Some words passed quickly, but others, whole phrases, clung to my skin. “‘...every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you... I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass... A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms...’”

He continued on through the first five stanzas, each word a murmured invitation. There was enticement in that poetry, metaphors that passed from his lips to my ears as surely as any kisses. The poem had been written to shock, to strip away pretension and artifice, and leave nothing but naked souls behind. His voice caressed the words, not a practiced orator’s voice, but a man’s, low and rumbling gently over the African plains. Gideon walked solemnly, enjoying the poem as entertainment, but I shivered with each step, creeping closer as he dropped his voice lower with each stanza. It was seduction by poetry, and if we had been alone, I would have taken his hand and pulled him close, putting my mouth to his and drinking every word.

But we weren’t alone, and just as he finished the fifth stanza, he stopped, raising his hand. He turned, silhouetted starkly against the dying sun.

“We’ll make camp here,” he announced.

“But there’s an hour of daylight left,” I protested. My knees were shaking and my ears buzzing with the sudden stopping.

He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “We camp here,” he repeated. “The porters need time to set up the tents and start the cooking fires.” He slanted me a curious look. “What’s the matter, princess? Haven’t had enough yet?”

I didn’t answer him, and he didn’t seem to expect me to. He moved to stand in front of me. “Delilah,” he said softly.

I didn’t move away. “Yes?”

I looked into his eyes, wondering how they could possibly be so blue against the wide black pupils. He tipped his head down, then raised his hand, drawing one finger down my cheek. I shivered and leaned forward. He put his lips to my ear, grazing the curve as he spoke. “You need to go shoot some fresh meat.”

My head snapped up. “I beg your pardon?”

“The porters need to eat. I don’t waste my shooting permits on bush meat. Get going. Gideon will point you in the right direction.”

He crossed his arms and stood with his feet planted wide apart, a pirate Colossus, grinning at me. I swung around and stalked away, knowing he was watching me with every step.

14

I shot a sizeable antelope for the cooking pot, and the men smiled their appreciation. The cook made it into some sort of stew with gourds and onions and they devoured it by their own fires, one for each tribe. They had piled their fires high with green matter causing them to smoke heavily, driving away the insects that would have plagued them. They would sleep under the stars, but two tents had been pitched on level ground, one for me and another for Ryder. Tusker refused to sleep in a tent, choosing the car instead.

“No, thank you,” she said when I offered to share. “I have had quite enough experience of snakes in the bush. It makes me drink just to think about it. A nice day’s hunting and no sooner do you fall asleep than something comes slithering into your tent to bed down between your legs. No, thank you, indeed.”

Ryder’s mouth was twitching hard, and I looked away so as not to laugh. Tusker excused herself and I rose from the fireside, wrapping a length of