Page 25 of Loving Graystoke's Heir

“I think I’m losing my mind.”

Tamsin looked up at the subtle cough she heard from across the table and saw another woman sit down at the table.

Her arm was bandaged and held gently in a sling. Offering her free hand in a welcoming gesture, she introduced herself as Thabisa and then addressed the group as a whole. “Where’s Sifiso?”

That shook Tamsin, and she looked to her side at Amahle. “Are you waiting for someone else?”

Amahle shook her head. “That’s what we call Donal.”

Zenzile quickly picked up the explanation. “It depends on who tells the story. I would say that we gave him a name so he wouldn’t pout like a child. He seemed to feel left out.”

Nomusa clucked at the other woman. “You make him sound silly.” The woman who managed the camp and the patrol schedules leaned forward against the edge of the table and shifted her cup between her hands. “Zulu are named before their birth and there are different kinds of names that parents choose for their child.”

“Some are aspirational,” Thabisa took a cup of beer from Zenzile and breathed in the scent, “some speak of their place in the world. And when Donal came to us, he believed in us and helped us secure supplies and supported our efforts, joining us on patrol to save the animals.”

“So, you gave him a name because he was one of you.”

“Sifiso means ‘Who we wished for.’” Nomusa nodded and finished the last sip of her drink. “Mzamo was the one who gave him the name.” She nodded at Zenzile, but the other young woman wasn’t paying attention to the conversation anymore.

Tamsin turned to look and followed her focus.

Magheli was walking back down the path with his duffle hitched high on his shoulder. He kept walking until he caught sight of the gathering under the tent, and then he slowed his steps before turning in their direction.

Tamsin remained seated at the table until she saw Donal walking down the road behind the other man. He was wearing a pair of pants that looked to be a tight fit, and the shirt he wore was an undershirt, stretched across his chest like a second skin.

Looking away from the sight of her old friend, Tamsin sat back down at the table and picked up her nearly empty cup. She wasn’t thirsty anymore, but she needed something to do with her hands.

It wasn’t right that one look at Donal and she wanted to put her hands all over his body, craving the heat of his skin against hers.

Swallowing, she fought down the heat that rose to the surface of her skin and kept her gaze focused down at the table until something heavy dropped down on it.

Magheli left his bag at the end of the table and walked over to sit down beside Zenzile. He gave her more than a passing glance, but he put a respectful distance between them as he took a seat. Once he was seated, he accepted a cup of beer, and Tamsin saw him look at her across the table.

“You and I,” he scoffed, “are going to have a few words later.”

He did his best to ignore the pointed look that Zenzile sent his way and drank down the contents of his cup before he set it down.

By that time, Donal had arrived at the table, standing down at the end near Magheli’s bag.

“Tamsin?”

She met his gaze with what she hoped looked like a placid expression, but she didn’t say a word.

“I’d like to talk to you.”

Lifting her cup, Tamsin touched it to her mouth and tipped it up. Whether or not she managed to get anything past her lips she couldn’t tell. When she returned the cup to the tabletop, she shook her head. “Later. I just can’t talk to you right now.”

Leaning his hands on the table, Donal kept his focus on her, and just the intensity of his gaze made her heart beat faster in her chest.

“Tam, please. We need to talk.”

She shook her head and focused her gaze on the cup. She felt like a coward for doing it, but she needed to put some distance between them.

Even though she’d been able to walk away from him before, she could still feel his energy crawling over her skin like lightning, dancing from one nerve to another. “Later.”

She hated the way her voice wobbled a little. So much for holding strong. With that answer, she hoped that Donal would drop the subject. Maybe it was just her own nerves in overdrive, but she was sure the mood at the table had changed drastically.

“Have a seat, Sifiso.” Zenzile’s voice had a chiding tone to it. “We have a cup for you, too.” She poured a cup for him and set it on the tabletop in front of him.

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