Colette Gale - [The Erotic Adventures of Jane in the Jungle Part II] by Entangled

— I —
     
    The Jungle of Madagascar
    1890
     
    “There, there…she’s coming ‘round. The poor dear’s had a bit of a shock.”
    Jane Clemons opened her eyes to see the apple-cheeked face of her maid and housekeeper Efremina. The older woman was looking down at her, a damp cloth held in her hand. It was dripping onto Jane’s forehead.
    Behind Efremina was her father, wearing a rare, concerned expression. Generally, the only time Professor Everett Clemons showed that particular emotion was at the thought of missing out on the breeding period of the green-spangled midget, his favorite butterfly. “How are you feeling, Janie?” he asked, adjusting the glasses on his nose.  
    To one side of her father and Efremina was a sharp-featured man with dark hair neatly combed into place. He was clean-shaven, dressed in rugged clothing, and wore an oddly discomfited expression. He was Kellan Darkdale, the Clemons’ guide and protector here in the jungle.  
    Jane pulled her attention from him and her gaze bounced away, settling on the fourth person standing around the chaise on which she lay. Jonathan. Her long-lost fiancé.
    She closed her eyes again, squeezed them tightly, then opened them.  
    He was still there. It hadn’t been a hallucination. Her lips curved in a tremulous smile.
    When she’d first seen him, standing in a group with her father and Effie and Kellan, Jane had taken two steps toward him. But the shock had been too much and she’d fainted dead away.
    Now, at last she allowed the seed of hope to blossom into joy. His dear, dear face was still familiar although now he wore a close-cropped beard. His countenance was narrower, tanned, and—she frowned, studying him closely—his skin seemed to have some white and red markings on it. Or perhaps it was dirt, near the hairline. His hair was shaggy but hardly longer than his jaw. And he was dressed in clean but ragged shirt and pants.
    “Jane,” he said, reaching for her hand.
    His fingers, warm and calloused, closed over hers and Jane was aware of a peaceful feeling settling over her. Jonathan. At last.
    “Let’s give the darlings a time alone, now,” Efremina commanded. “It’s been three years—they surely got something to talk about.” She cast a quick glance at Jane. Then, apparently satisfied that all was well, she shooed Kellan and Professor Clemons out of the chamber.
    It wasn’t precisely a chamber in which Jane reclined, but the largest room of a well-constructed treehouse. Generous sliding walls moved aside to allow welcome breezes to come through the large kitchen and parlor area, and above and below were several other smaller chambers attached by ladders, lifts, or ramps.
    No sooner had the others gone than Jane was peppering her lost love with questions. “Where have you been? How did you find us? How did you survive these three years?” And the one she could not speak: Why did you not return to me?
    “Ah, Jane,” he said, settling his rump on the chaise next to her thigh. “Of course you have many questions. It’s a long and involved story, but I’ll give you the simplified version. But first….” He leaned closer, bringing with him the scent of jungle freshness and some other unidentifiable essence. “I’ve missed you so.”
    His lips covered hers, warm and familiar and demanding. Jane felt an instant of hesitation, then closed her eyes and slid into the kiss. This was Jonathan and he was somehow, incredibly, alive. Still alive.
    His tongue thrust boldly into her mouth, startling Jane with its abrupt invasion. But his kiss was sensual and thorough, and before long, her insides became soft and wavery. Their mouths smashed and slipped together, tongues tangling and teeth nibbling in desperation to make up for their lost time. She found his shoulders, broader than she recalled them being, and pulled him closer, down on top of her on the chaise.
    It had been more than three years since she’d felt the hard body of her lover