African Enchantment
“Raoul strode to meet them, his body taut, his face grim. Even since the brief moment when his eyes had met Harriet’s above the makeshift map he had determined to speak to her alone. Sebastian Crale’s presence at her side had made that impossible. He rammed a rifle down his saddlebag bad-temperedly. Mon Dieu, but what was the matter with her? She blew hot and cold with the variability of her country’s climate. He swung himself up into his saddle. Wouldn’t it be better if she remained cold? If he... did not speak to her? Surely, in time, his passion would become controllable? Would stultify and die? He had never before desired marriage. He had desired only his freedom. Why should a golden-haired English girl make that freedom meaningless?
She emerged from her tent looking as neat and trim as if she were about to pay an afternoon visit with her aunts. Her hair was brushed to a gleaming sheen and coiled in thick plaits in the nape of her neck. Her blouse was demurely high-necked, the full sleeves fastening tightly at the wrists with small, pearl buttons.MoreLess
She emerged from her tent looking as neat and trim as if she were about to pay an afternoon visit with her aunts. Her hair was brushed to a gleaming sheen and coiled in thick plaits in the nape of her neck. Her blouse was demurely high-necked, the full sleeves fastening tightly at the wrists with small, pearl buttons.MoreLess
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