Perhaps I should check that out with Aunt Elena, she thought once, with dry humour.
The same couldn’t be said for her. Yes, she’d suffered a couple of months of numbness after leaving him. In contrast now she was visited acutely at times by cameos from their past, like the one when they’d dragged an inflatable mattress out onto the veranda under a full, golden moon…
‘We could be anywhere,’ she said dreamily as they lay side by side on a cool linen sheet and the dusky pink pillows from his bed. ‘On a raft up the Nile.’
‘What made you think of that?’
‘Well, you can hear the water, it is a wooden floor. Gloucester Island could be a pyramid sailing past.’ She turned on her front and propped her chin on her hands so she could watch him. ‘Have you ever been up the Nile?’
‘Yes, I have.’ He had one arm bent behind his head and he cupped her shoulder with his free hand and slid his finger beneath the broad lacy strap of her sleepwear. ‘Have you?’
‘Mmm… With my parents when I was sixteen. I loved it. Sadly, however, the whole experience was so momentous, I made myself sick.’
A smile flickered across his lips. ‘That could have been the Egyptian version of Delhi belly.’
She bent her knees and crossed her ankles in the air. ‘I think Africa would suit you,’ she told him reflectively, ‘or would have in times gone past.’
‘I do remind you of Dr Livingstone? How?’ he queried amusedly.
‘No. But maybe Denys Finch-Hatton. I’ve seen his grave in the Ngong Hills, you know.’
‘Same trip?’
She nodded. ‘And Karen Blixen’s house. It’s preserved in her memory. The Danish government gave it to the Kenyan government on independence. She’s a bit of a hero of mine.’
He turned his head towards her. ‘Are you trying to tell me I’m a disappointment to you because I’m no Denys Finch-Hatton?’ he queried gravely.
She denied this seriously. ‘Not at all.’
‘You did say something about taking me for a more physical guy.’
Maggie curled her toes. ‘I just got that impression—well, yes, it presented itself to me in the form of hunting wild animals, crewing racing yachts et cetera, but translated it seemed to me that you liked to test yourself to the limit.’
He was silent for an age, just stroking her shoulder, then, ‘In lots of ways I do—and did. When I started out, using the bank’s money, not mine, I took some huge gambles. I often had to strain every nerve just to keep my head above water.’
‘Did you enjoy that?’
He grinned fleetingly. ‘There were times when I was scared to death, but on the whole, I guess I did.’
‘So I was right about you all along,’ she said with deep satisfaction.
‘Wise as well as beautiful…’ He drew the strap of her top down. ‘Striking as this outfit is, I’ve got the feeling it’s going to get in my way.’
Maggie flipped over onto her back and sat upright. ‘This outfit’ was a camisole pyjama top in topaz silk edged with ivory lace and a matching pair of boxer shorts.
‘That could be remedied.’ She slipped the top off over her head.
He watched her as she sat straight-backed with her legs crossed, like a naked ivory statue in the moonlight, slim, beautifully curved, grave, young and gorgeous. Her hair was tied up loosely with wavy tendrils escaping down her neck.
He sat up abruptly. ‘If we changed the location slightly, moved this raft east across the desert sands, say, I could be the Sheik of Araby and you could be a candidate for my harem.’
Maggie’s lashes fluttered and she turned to him with an incredulous look, but a little pulse beating rather rapidly at the base of her throat.
‘Jack! That’s very—fanciful.’
He grimaced. ‘Surprised you?’
‘Uh—’ she licked her lips ‘—yes.’
He shook his head wryly. ‘I’ve surprised myself, but that’s how you make me feel at this moment and you were the one who put us in another spot in the first place.’
She thought for a moment, then bowed her head. ‘Do I qualify?’