mothballs and sponged it. It smells frightful, but at least you will look presentable enough. I’ve also arranged for rooms at the Norfolk for you both.”
“What about leaving you at Christmas? Won’t you be lonesome?”
“I will not,” she replied roundly. “I have a mare in foal and I have no intention of being gone when she drops. You and Jude are free to go off and play. And you ought to think about getting a haircut. I don’t mind it that long, but you might make the civilized folk nervous.”
Ryder grinned. “Is that all?”
“I’ve signed you both up for the decorating committee at the club. Mind you don’t catch anyone unsuitable under the mistletoe.”
Ryder propped one booted foot on the toe of the other. “I should think you’d know by now—I specialize in unsuitable.”
* * *
Ryder was not surprised that Jude resisted; he was even less surprised when Sybil prevailed.
“What did she bribe you with?” Jude asked as she chucked her hold-all into the back of Ryder’s truck. “I know you wouldn’t do this willingly.”
Ryder slammed the door and set off with a crash of gears. “I had a little business in Nairobi. Two birds with one stone,” he said lightly.
Jude laughed, an oddly creaky sound, as if she hadn’t done it for a very long time. “Idiot,” she said affectionately. “She’s worried about you. That last bout of blackwater fever was nearly fatal. She wants you to have some fun before you’re six feet under,” she finished on a teasing note.
Ryder said nothing. He had learned long ago that most women wanted more than anything else a man who could listen. And Ryder could listen with the best of them.
“We’re both idiots,” Jude said finally. “She worries about your health and she worries that I think too much about Stephen. I must be losing my touch if I didn’t see through her right off.”
“She still thinks Stephen is coming home,” Ryder told her.
“So did I,” Jude admitted. “It’s just that I always believed he would turn up when the war was over. So long as the fighting was still going on, I could pretend he was lost somewhere, that he couldn’t find his way home to me. But now the war’s done, I can’t pretend anymore. I have to accept he’s gone.”
“Tusker hasn’t. Can you?”
Jude reached into her pocket and took out a cigarette, lighting it slowly. She blew the smoke out in a single gust of regret. “I don’t know.” She was silent a minute, then turned to his profile. “It’s frightful to think of how happy we all were when we got married. And now look at us. You and I are all that’s left of the shipwreck, survivors clinging to the mast.”
Ryder’s hands tightened on the wheel, thin lines of white crossing his knuckles.
“Do you think about her? About Eliza?” Jude asked.
“I sleep better when I don’t.”
She laughed again. “Can you accept she’s gone? Have you made your peace with it?”
He flicked her a glance. “What do you think?”
“I think Eliza is the reason you’re shooting and sleeping your way across Africa.”
Ryder stomped hard on the brakes, sending up a shower of dark red dust. “Don’t psychoanalyze me, Jude. We’re not kids anymore, but I will still haul you out by your hair and leave you tied to a thorn bush.”
Jude lit a second cigarette and handed it over. “Peace offering?”
Ryder took a deep pull of smoke and jammed the vehicle into gear.
“Why is it that you are the one person who can always get under my skin?” he asked, half to himself.
“Because we’re the same,” she replied. “We couldn’t be more alike if we’d hatched from the same egg.”
“I think Tusker regrets the fact that we won’t just make a match of it. That we can’t .” He chose the words carefully, wrapping them softly in a tone so casual she couldn’t feel the sting of his finality.
“Ryder, dear, if that’s your subtle way of telling me it’s just not on, relax. I have never once thought
“What about leaving you at Christmas? Won’t you be lonesome?”
“I will not,” she replied roundly. “I have a mare in foal and I have no intention of being gone when she drops. You and Jude are free to go off and play. And you ought to think about getting a haircut. I don’t mind it that long, but you might make the civilized folk nervous.”
Ryder grinned. “Is that all?”
“I’ve signed you both up for the decorating committee at the club. Mind you don’t catch anyone unsuitable under the mistletoe.”
Ryder propped one booted foot on the toe of the other. “I should think you’d know by now—I specialize in unsuitable.”
* * *
Ryder was not surprised that Jude resisted; he was even less surprised when Sybil prevailed.
“What did she bribe you with?” Jude asked as she chucked her hold-all into the back of Ryder’s truck. “I know you wouldn’t do this willingly.”
Ryder slammed the door and set off with a crash of gears. “I had a little business in Nairobi. Two birds with one stone,” he said lightly.
Jude laughed, an oddly creaky sound, as if she hadn’t done it for a very long time. “Idiot,” she said affectionately. “She’s worried about you. That last bout of blackwater fever was nearly fatal. She wants you to have some fun before you’re six feet under,” she finished on a teasing note.
Ryder said nothing. He had learned long ago that most women wanted more than anything else a man who could listen. And Ryder could listen with the best of them.
“We’re both idiots,” Jude said finally. “She worries about your health and she worries that I think too much about Stephen. I must be losing my touch if I didn’t see through her right off.”
“She still thinks Stephen is coming home,” Ryder told her.
“So did I,” Jude admitted. “It’s just that I always believed he would turn up when the war was over. So long as the fighting was still going on, I could pretend he was lost somewhere, that he couldn’t find his way home to me. But now the war’s done, I can’t pretend anymore. I have to accept he’s gone.”
“Tusker hasn’t. Can you?”
Jude reached into her pocket and took out a cigarette, lighting it slowly. She blew the smoke out in a single gust of regret. “I don’t know.” She was silent a minute, then turned to his profile. “It’s frightful to think of how happy we all were when we got married. And now look at us. You and I are all that’s left of the shipwreck, survivors clinging to the mast.”
Ryder’s hands tightened on the wheel, thin lines of white crossing his knuckles.
“Do you think about her? About Eliza?” Jude asked.
“I sleep better when I don’t.”
She laughed again. “Can you accept she’s gone? Have you made your peace with it?”
He flicked her a glance. “What do you think?”
“I think Eliza is the reason you’re shooting and sleeping your way across Africa.”
Ryder stomped hard on the brakes, sending up a shower of dark red dust. “Don’t psychoanalyze me, Jude. We’re not kids anymore, but I will still haul you out by your hair and leave you tied to a thorn bush.”
Jude lit a second cigarette and handed it over. “Peace offering?”
Ryder took a deep pull of smoke and jammed the vehicle into gear.
“Why is it that you are the one person who can always get under my skin?” he asked, half to himself.
“Because we’re the same,” she replied. “We couldn’t be more alike if we’d hatched from the same egg.”
“I think Tusker regrets the fact that we won’t just make a match of it. That we can’t .” He chose the words carefully, wrapping them softly in a tone so casual she couldn’t feel the sting of his finality.
“Ryder, dear, if that’s your subtle way of telling me it’s just not on, relax. I have never once thought
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