Stolen Love (Beauty in the Stolen 3)

We’ve been back for six months. Our comeback caused quite a commotion. Shona and Banga followed what happened in South Africa in the news. At first, they were convinced they were staring at two ghosts. It took some time to convince them Cas is real and I’m still a man of flesh and bones. After we told them what happened, the villagers tracked Danai down at a village near Kadoma. Shona paid her a visit. Shortly after, we learned Danai died from a puff adder bite. Apparently, the snake was found in her bed.

The animals are doing great. The cheetah had a cub. The antelope and zebras have multiplied. The farm is prospering. Cas and I live in the big bungalow and eat our meals at the main building. There’s always someone from the village dropping in for lunch or dinner. I can’t say we’re bored, but for the last couple of weeks there’s been a restlessness inside me. I’ve never suffered from the condition before. Then again, I’ve never been in the same place for this long.

Cas lifts her head, catching me watching her from where I lean against the Jeep on the top of the hill. We’re still connected in that way. I don’t have to see, hear, or smell her perfume to know when she enters a room. I feel her under my skin. She’s a permanent presence in my chest. Since we left Joburg, we’ve been joined at the hip. I can’t bring myself to go anywhere without her. The slightest separation causes me massive panic attacks. Maybe it’s coming as close as I did to losing her. Maybe it’s a selfish need to have her all to myself. Even when she visits Lesedi, I hang around the chicken coop, pretending to fix the fence. If Cas wants to go to the shebeen, I’m the first offering to drive her.

Straightening, she dusts her hands on her jeans. Her smile reaches me long before she does as she makes her way over.

“Hey,” she says, breathless from the climb up the hill.

I push off the Jeep. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here so early?”

“I finished your dance studio.”

“Thank you.” Her blue eyes sparkle. “I can’t wait to try it out.”

“It should keep you fit.”

She bites her lip as her mouth curves into a smile. “Mm. It’s important to stay in shape.”

For a while, we simply stand there, drinking in each other.

“Want to go for a ride?” I ask, pushing down that itchy feeling that’s forever present these days like a thorn under my skin.

“Yeah.” She smiles up at me, giving me her hand.

I help her into the driver’s seat and take the passenger side, because my girl likes to drive. As she does so often, especially at sunset, she drives toward the outlook point and parks next to the cross. My chest tightens. The day I look at that cross and not feel pain may never arrive, but that’s all right. It’s my way of paying tribute to our unborn child. It’s hard for Cas too, but she’s a lot better at dealing with her emotions than I am. I suppose letting it out is a healthier way of handling grief. I carry mine inside. It’s just the way I’m wired.

She gets out and walks to the cross, staring out at the water.

“There are no hippos today,” she says when I stop next to her.

I follow her gaze. “Garai spotted them closer to the jetty.”

Crossing her arms, she turns to face me. “What’s up?”

I look away from the water, giving her my full attention. “Who says anything is up?”

“I know you, Ian Hart. Something is eating you.”

I wipe the long side of my hair from my face. How much do I tell her? I don’t want to give her the wrong impression and make her think I’m unhappy to be here with her, because nothing can be further from the truth.

“Just say it like it is,” she says. “I can take it.”

I consider that. Yeah, I’m still to dish out something she can’t take. She drives, shoots, farms, and manages the lodge by my side. She single-handedly organized my escape, for fuck’s sake. Sure, Damian and Leon helped her, and then Damian undermined her, but it was her idea. If not for this brave, beautiful woman, I wouldn’t be standing here today.

I give her the truth. She deserves nothing less. “I guess I feel like a gypsy who’s been parked on the same patch of soil for months.”

Her lips part. “You’re bored?”

“I’m not sure you can call it bored. Maybe I’m suffering from a little cabin fever.”

She snorts. “Says the man who wanted to lock me in his bungalow for the rest of my life.”

Cupping the back of her neck, I draw her closer. “You know I never would’ve been able to do that. I can barely manage an hour without you.”