'It's settled then,' she said. 'I'll get the bedroom set up for you.'

As she left the dining room she heard Edward say, 'Never mind Dana. She loves to fuss. Let her sort things out while you and I chat. Will you join me in a port?'

Dana bristled at his condescending manner. Edward made a habit of it after a few drinks. She had become accustomed to it, but in the presence of guests it was particularly annoying. She nevertheless held her tongue and went to organise Faizal.

Edward was monopolising the conversation when Sam noticed Dana re-enter the room. He sensed she was annoyed by her husband's manner, which didn't surprise him. Edward had been quite rude.

'Ah, there she is,' Edward said. 'I was just telling Sam about your little folly, dear. Did I say folly?' He snorted. 'I do beg your pardon, I meant filly, of course.'

Dana coloured.

Sam glanced at her, then turned to Edward. 'Edward, I don't think that's -'

'Sam's far more sensible,' Edward went on, ignoring his interjection. 'His plan to turn your little hobby into a stud makes a lot of sense. Buying and selling horses rather than feeding them for no good reason. Now that your Dancer is only good for the glue factory, it's a good thing he came up with the idea.'

Sam waited for Dana to respond, but although he noticed her lip tighten and tears well up in her eyes, she said nothing.

Edward's bullying behaviour was not unusual among some backward African men, who treated their women as common chattels, but he'd not seen or heard of it among the whites. Somehow he'd concluded that although there was often an inequality existing between white couples, the women were at least treated with respect.

Edward continued his sarcasm until Sam had had enough. He abruptly stood. 'Edward, thank you for the evening, but I think I'll call it a night.' He slid his chair under the table.

'What? Already? What about a coffee? Mary! Coffee for Mr w.a.n.gira. Pesi pesi!'

Sam turned to Dana.

'Thank you for a wonderful dinner, Dana. You've been most kind. And I look forward to working with you ... and Edward, in the future. But now, if you'll excuse me, I'll take myself off to bed.'

Faizal was in the guest room, turning down the bed and placing a hot-water bottle under the covers. Sam thanked him as he left and then sat on the bed to remove his boots.

He wondered if Dana had been aware of the proximity of his leg to hers during dinner. He certainly was, and could almost feel the warmth of her thigh next to his.

He slipped out of his clothes and slid naked between the sheets.

Sleep eluded him.

A loose floorboard squeaked as she padded, barefoot, past Edward's bedroom to the far end of the hall. The nightlight at the top of the stairs threw her shadow ahead of her, coming to rest on the door to Sam's bedroom. She hesitated a moment, her hand on the handle. The fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck tingled as they did before a storm when the air was hot and alive with static, and the clouds gathered and rumbled. Every fibre in her body seemed acutely tuned to her surroundings. She had never before noticed the fine panelling on the bedroom door nor the ornamental moulding surrounding the door handle.

She turned the k.n.o.b and, as she stepped into the room, she could faintly sense his maleness - a smell like dry straw and leather.

A memory came starkly to mind from her childhood. She was no more than ten when she came into the stable as a stallion mounted a mare. Her father shooed her away, but not before the raw s.e.xuality of it had been etched into her mind. The placid acquiescence of the mare, the power of the stallion, and the wild look in his normally docile eyes strengthened her interest in matters of s.e.x.

Sam's male scent had thrilled her when she sat next to him at dinner, her thigh inches from his, occasionally touching it as if by accident. The parlour games that she and her friends and their husbands played during their parties were mere child's play compared to what she was now contemplating. The games Dana invented to tease and t.i.tillate were an exciting prelude to the grand finale when partners moved off to bed for the night or, should the mood take them, only part of it, before swapping yet again.

On those nights there were few rules except for the firm agreement among all couples that there would be no fraternisation outside the dinner parties. The very temerity of her bold action now heightened her excitement, and she could no more stop than she could cease breathing. It was like the situation with the stallion: she was driven by a mindless, undeniable pa.s.sion that drove her on to complete what she'd started.

'Who is it?' His voice came softly from the bed, which she could see in the moonlight through the open window.

But surely he must know it was her. It caused her to pause as she fleetingly lost her confidence. Perhaps she had misread the events of the evening as he held her gaze, and casually let their fingers touch while reaching across the table.

'It's me,' she said. 'I ... I just wanted to apologise for Edward.'

He lifted himself onto an elbow.

The room thrummed with tension. There was a moment's hesitation that seemed like an age before he spoke.

'Come,' he said, and she went quickly to the bed, but held back. This was a step too far, even for Dana.

He reached out and caught her hand, pulling her off balance. She fell on him and his mouth was on hers, smothering her with the force of his lips.

They clung together for breathless moments before he lifted her from him and swept the covering aside. She caught a glimpse of his rampant erection and a moment later, as he pulled her to him, felt it through her thin cotton nightdress.

'I prayed you'd come,' he said.

'Don't speak. Kiss me.'

His lips were full and firm as he explored her tongue with his, drawing back only to help her out of her shift.

She moaned and clutched his shoulders, feeling his muscles ripple and leap as he rolled her from him and threw his leg across her, pinning her to the bed.

'I've wanted you from the first moment I saw you,' she said. 'I want you now. More than I've ever wanted anybody.'

His hands were moving over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and he bent to take one nipple gently into his mouth, sucking and licking it. He let his hands slide over her body, into the ripples of her ribs and the valleys of her groin, then gently playing across her moistening l.a.b.i.a.

His firm c.o.c.k filled her hand and she stroked it lovingly. 'Oh, I want this, Sam. I want you. Now.'

He swung his body over her with his knees between hers. She arched her back, lifting her hips towards him.

In the light from the window she saw his eyes fill with pa.s.sion. Then he lowered himself down and into her.

She stifled a cry of pleasure.

CHAPTER 24.

The dawn air was sweet. A fragrant, earthy mist drifted across the high savannah as Sam and his horse melted into it. The last Dana saw of him was his hand raised in farewell. The vapour cloud of her breath hung in the air and Dana stood for a long time, her cashmere wrap clutched to her body, hoping the mist would clear so she could return his wave, but by the time it stirred in response to the sun's kiss, he'd gone.

It was a liquid morning - her favourite - the kind of morning that promised a fine day, full of sunshine and warmth. She willed it on, though she loved savouring those moments too, as the sun climbed, setting fire to the land east of the Aberdares. Then slowly, slowly it made its imminent presence known in the golden shafts it sent spearing through the c.h.i.n.ks in the mountains. She stood enfolded in her wrap until the first peep caught her eyes, momentarily blinding her.

She turned away and walked slowly towards the house and its weathered facade now gilt-leafed in the morning light.

She didn't want the dawn to end, but she had not wanted the night to end either. When she awoke, snuggled into Sam's broad back, she wanted to remain so forever, watching his shoulders move with the heavy breathing of sleep. His dark brown skin demanded she touch it and when she did she was surprised at how smooth it was; how firm and smooth. He'd stirred then and turned to her, lifting his arm to draw her to him and soon they were making love again, this time slowly, as in a dream.

'Fancied a bit of black c.o.c.k, did you, dear?'

Edward's voice startled her.

She continued up the steps to the veranda. 'Good morning, Edward,' she said.

'I shouldn't be surprised if you've been rutting with the field workers as well.'

'Edward, please. Don't be disgusting.'

'Well, why not? All dogs are the same colour in the dark, eh what?'

She walked past him to the breakfast room where she shoved a few kindling sticks into the cast-iron stove and placed the kettle over the opening in the top.

After a few minutes, he joined her. 'How long has this been going on?'

'It wasn't planned, Edward. It was just one of those things. It happened.'

'I understand that, but we have an arrangement, and this appears to be outside of that, don't you think?'

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I should have told you, but I had no intention of ... Anyway, it just ... happened.'

'Will it happen again?'

She had already considered that question and had no answer. She and Sam hadn't spoken about it so she had no idea of his intentions. 'I'm staying at the m.u.t.h.aiga Club,' Sam had said, in the only hint that he may want to see her again.

'I don't know,' she said.

'Let me make this clear, Dana. While I may have my reservations about the suitability of your bedroom partner, I don't have any objections to you f.u.c.king him provided you abide by our agreed arrangements.'

'You mean stay within the Zephyr group?'

'Precisely.'

She couldn't argue. Edward was quite correct, and she'd agreed to the rules of the game before they started it.

Her first thought was that although she wanted Sam, she wanted him all to herself. She didn't want to share him with her girlfriends, although she felt quite sure that many of them would be excited about the addition of exotic and ordinarily forbidden fruit to their games. But even if Sam agreed to be a part of their party nights, he would never fit in, and Edward very well knew it.

So why would he make it so difficult for her to be with Sam? She knew Edward well enough to believe he wasn't threatened by her s.e.xual relationship with the new man. He'd shown no sign of it in any of her exploits with the men in their group, or those she'd shared her bed with in England when she and Edward began their open marriage. In fact, she suspected that it excited him. More than once he'd hinted that he'd like to be present while she was making love to one of the others. He didn't want to partic.i.p.ate, he said, just to watch. He went so far as to ask the opinion of a couple of the men, who told him they wouldn't mind. Dana did though, so it never happened.

But Dana quickly realised what was on Edward's mind. It was not a racial concern. Although he had a paternalistic att.i.tude to black Kenyans, he had none of the extreme views of many of the settlers of his cla.s.s. The issue was that Edward was a sn.o.b. It wouldn't matter what colour a man might be: unless he was of the right type, which to Edward meant of the landed if not t.i.tled gentry, they were socially unsuited.

She knew Edward would be watching her: if she went to see Sam again, he would find out and most likely, and justifiably, cut her off without a penny. On the other hand, if she invited Sam into their group she faced even more risks. If, as she suspected, Sam was shocked by her and her group's outrageous behaviour, she might not only lose him, but suffer his disgust. On the other hand, if he agreed to join and was not accepted by the others, he would hate her for exposing him to such humiliation. Equally unsettling: if he was accepted by them, Sam would no longer be special to her.

'No,' she said. 'Inviting him into the group is quite impossible.'

'I absolutely forbid it any other way.'

'Then it's settled,' she said softly. 'It's over.'

The densely wooded slopes of Mt Marsabit rose above the dry, blood-red earth. Being due west of the extinct volcano meant Sam was now about four or five days from the border. On his return in about a month, he would employ local Boran and, when they'd travelled too far from their tribal lands, Rendile tribesmen to help with the muster until he was close to home. But for now he was alone, and had plenty of time to think.

He'd delayed his departure for a couple of weeks, hoping to hear from Dana, but from her silence concluded she'd realised her error, and changed her mind about seeing him again.

He knew Dana Northcote would be dangerous, but he had always thought it would be because of the stigma attached to s.e.xual relations across the racial divide. Although there were many white men who, far from home and other European women, had taken comfort with an African woman, it was a far different matter between a black man and a white woman. Such a relationship could fire strong feelings in the European community - particularly among the men. But from the moment that Sam first felt attracted to Dana he had been prepared for that risk. The danger that he now confronted was that Dana had become more than a merely desirable woman: she'd penetrated the barrier he'd erected against a serious relationship.

She was strong yet vulnerable. He wanted to share her strength so that together they could defy convention. At the same time he wanted to shield her from the storm that a relationship such as theirs was bound to whip up.

He was thirty-three, and knew enough about the world to know he should respect her wishes to let their affair end. But he also knew himself well enough to know, given the chance, he wouldn't allow her to.

The Abyssinian tribesmen were anxious to make their sale and be gone. A death sentence awaited them should the Emperor's men discover their felony. The high-country horses were corralled for Sam's inspection, and he'd already selected a few. What he wanted now was the high-spirited stallion pacing the rails: he would be perfect for Dana's mare, Dancer.

Somehow the leader of the horse smugglers had perceived Sam's interest in the stallion and was making it difficult for him to purchase it at a reasonable price. He decided to bluff it out, walking away from the dealer to call his men together ready for the muster. But the stallion was exactly the horse Sam needed to have reason to visit Dana again. He would bargain and haggle, but at the end of it, the stallion would be his.

'And what about the stallion?' the Abyssinian asked.

'What stallion?' Sam said. 'This old bag of bones? It is not worth my grandmother's broken teeth.'

'It is the best stallion I have captured in all my years,' the Abyssinian insisted. 'Look at those eyes. There is the fire of h.e.l.l in them, yet he is as sweet as an angel in heaven. n.o.body could find a better animal for the stud.'

'Pah! The stud, you say? More likely he'd fit the farm plough rather than a mare, but I don't think he has the stamina even for that. Take him away. I already have enough for the journey home.'

'But look at those legs. A village could be built on such strong posts. A city.'

It was clear the dealer didn't want to remain in the outpost any longer and was keen to do business. There was a rumour that a contingent of soldiers was making a routine patrol along the border and he wanted to be able to make a fast retreat to his mountain homeland if they came his way. The stallion was too expensive to release to the wilds again, but too much trouble to conceal until the next customer happened by.

It was May, and the long rains of 1931 were overdue. Everyone feared another drought. In Dana's circle of friends the concern was that unless the rains came soon, the new season's racing events due to begin in Nakuru in June would be washed out. The timing of the year's social calendar was at stake.

The doldrums - the stifling windless time before the trade winds brought the rain - were always difficult for Dana. The humid air seemed to smother her like a hot, wet sheet, and her hair was perpetually limp. Wearing anything more than a loose-fitting cotton shift, including underwear, was unbearable. And she felt she looked a fright in a shift.

She'd not organised the usual Zephyr dinner party in April, nor would she do so in May while the climate remained unchanged. She was in no mood for such frivolity. Let Averil or Polly organise one, she thought.

At these times she really missed England's seasons: the bite of an autumn wind, even the chill of winter, were the stuff of her dreams.

Edward was immune. He went about his daily routine - he seemed to have become more involved in the farm of late - without seeming to notice Dana's smouldering irritation.

'Why don't you go for a spin into Nairobi?' he asked after Dana lost her temper trying to fix her hair into something resembling neat.

'I can't be bothered,' she whined.

'Pick up Polly on the way and stay a few days.'

'No. But I will take a drive down to Gilgil. I need a few items. Do you care to join me?'

'No, my dear. I have to collect a scarifier from the Banfields'.'

The Banfields were the nearest of their Zephyr friends and John Banfield and Edward often shared farm equipment.

Edward took the Albion, and drove out the gate with a wave.

Dana climbed into the w.i.l.l.ys-Knight roadster, and drove down to the dukas at Gilgil. Immediately she had escaped the claustrophobic confines of the ranch she felt better.