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“ O h my goodness. That is so kind of you! You’re a lifesaver.” Rowena couldn’t believe their good fortune and could barely control her happiness. “But we don’t want to put you out… Sorry, I don’t know what I should call you.”

“Marianne. Marianne Van Hoogen.”

“Marianne. Hi, I’m Ro—short for Rogan.” She wasn’t used to lying, but she figured a little deception wouldn’t be a bad thing under the circumstances.

“And this is my boyfriend, Joe.” She winced because she was pretty sure there was someone famous called Joe Rogan.

“Joe’s not normally quite so grumpy, but he’s got a nasty infection, and it’s been quite the day.

Both our mobiles stopped working, not that it matters about mine as it’s at the bottom of the river, but Joe wanted to call for help and couldn’t.

” She ran her hand down his good arm. “Then he started with this fever, and I honestly thought I’d be carrying him all the way to the city… It hasn’t been a good day.”

“Phones are down all over. Some sort of cyberattack, apparently. Can’t wait to see how the government handles that,” Marianne scoffed. “Come into the house. I have some antibiotics I use for the pigs.” The woman shot Kurt a look. “Probably won’t do you any harm. ”

Row suppressed a snort. “Obviously, you made a good impression,” she murmured.

He grunted.

“I have stew on the stove if you want some,” Marianne offered.

Row’s stomach audibly growled at the mention of food. “Yes, please.”

Kurt indicated she lead the way, and she joined Marianne as they walked to the house. She kept half an eye on Kurt over her shoulder as he rolled his shoulders and moved his head from side to side. He still had the handgun. She hoped they didn’t need it.

The woman cracked open the double barrel, and Row breathed a little easier.

“Keep the shotgun to deter break-ins and to scare away the odd predator who wanders too close. I have a dog, pigs, chickens, and goats.”

“You live here all alone?” Row couldn’t imagine running a farm in the middle of Africa alone.

“I have a farm manager who has his own house other side of the orchard.”

“No Mr. Van Hoogen around the place? Or Mrs.?” Kurt asked from behind them.

Row shot him a surprised look. “You don’t have to answer that. Joe’s nosey.”

Marianne gave him a wry look. “I’m used to men. Trust me. This one doesn’t bother me.”

Funny, he bothered the hell out of her. They arrived at the back door and went inside to find a springer spaniel barking and wagging its tail so hard Row was surprised he didn’t fall over.

“That the guard dog?”

Marianne popped the cartridges and placed the gun on a rack beside the door. She answered Kurt’s wry comment in a monotone. “Spencer. He used to have a sister called Hepburn, but a leopard got her.” She shot Kurt a narrow look. “That leopard is now a rug on my living room floor. ”

“You shot it?” Row tried to keep the shock out of her voice.

Marianne looked at her sharply. “I did what needed to be done. That old cat needed to be put down before he decided to take one of the kids from the village.” Her brows lowered.

“A single shot through the head—he never felt a thing. His skull is on my desk. To remind me of all the predators in the world.”

Kurt nodded slowly at what sounded like a warning.

Row watched the two of them measure each other up.

Great . The last thing she wanted was to upset this woman when she’d offered them a ride to the city, saving them days of walking and potential peril. But Kurt had good reasons not to take things at face value. His job probably required a degree of mistrust.

It wasn’t how Rowena operated but she’d try to be circumspect.

The smell of fragrant cooking filled the air.

Row pressed a hand to her belly. She didn’t remember the last time she’d been this hungry even though she’d stuffed her face last night.

But they’d walked all day, dawn to dusk, on nothing more than a protein bar each.

They hadn’t expected a warm meal tonight.

“That smells delicious.”

Marianne smiled. “I like to cook. Makes a change to have someone to feed.”

The dog jumped up on its owner, and she bent to give it a scratch on his liver-spotted head. “Come on. I’ll find those antibiotics and serve us all up a bowl with some bread I baked earlier.”

They followed her into an old-fashioned kitchen with a large dining table in the center. A dark red Aga oven sat in one corner, pumping out heat. A pot on the stove top.

Kurt put the rucksack on the nearest chair, and she could see he was burning up. His coloring worried her. As did the sheen of sweat clinging to his brow.

“Can I trouble you for some water?”

“Help yourself.” Marianne waved a distracted hand over her shoulder as she rifled through a drawer filled with everything from screwdrivers to birthday candles.

Row found a glass and ran the tap until it was cold.

Marianne pulled on a pair of reading specs and peered closer at the orange pill bottle in her hand. “Here we go. My late husband, Newt, was a veterinarian and he regularly fed me animal drugs. Never did me any harm.”

She tossed them to Kurt.

Kurt caught the bottle and asked cautiously. “And what exactly did he die of?”

Row’s mouth dropped open, but Marianne took it as a joke.

“Melanoma.” She pressed her lips together in a watery smile. “Took him fast, which is how he’d wanted to go. Now I’m the last one of my family and no kids to leave it all to. End of an era.”

Rowena knew exactly how that felt. “Perhaps you should sell up and spend your retirement living it up somewhere.”

Marianne snorted. “Maybe I will.”

She pulled out mismatched bowls for the stew.

“Cutlery is in the drawer.” The woman pointed to the drawer next to the sink.

Rowena grabbed spoons as Kurt read the pill instructions. Then he popped off the lid with a determined clench of his jaw before he swallowed two tablets along with another glass of water.

“That landline work?” He pointed at the old-fashioned phone hooked onto the wall that Row had failed to notice.

Marianne shook her head. “Not last time I checked it.”

“You mind if I try?” He angled his head toward the receiver.

“Knock yourself out.”

He put the earpiece to his ear then, after a second, hung up with a grunt. Obviously still dead.

They sat down to eat informally at the kitchen table.

“You grow fruit?” Rowena took a piece of fresh bread from the loaf Marianne had carved.

“Yeah. Oranges mainly but some limes too. And guava. ”

“Do you ever get lonely out here on your own?”

Marianne’s smile grew rueful. “Probably wouldn’t be feeding two strangers who turned up on my doorstep if I didn’t. What do you do in Shropshire?”

Row smiled. “I’m a librarian.”

Marianne chortled. “And your boyfriend?”

The label “boyfriend” did not sit easily on this man’s shoulders. He was too rugged. Too experienced.

Kurt forced a smile. His eyes were glassy and cheeks flushed. “Insurance salesman or antichrist. Take your pick.”

Marianne’s brow rose, unimpressed. “Well, at least you have a sense of humor about it.”

“I keep telling him to come over from the dark side, but he says he has a good pension he doesn’t want to jeopardize.”

He shot her a look from under his brows that told her the pension quip had hit its mark. Despite his hang-up about their age difference, he wasn’t even close to retirement.

“We have a long-distance relationship which is difficult because we only see each other a few times a year.” She would hate living so far away if she were truly in love. “This vacation was supposed to be our big romantic adventure to last us for another six months.”

“Sorry, babe.” Kurt reached out and squeezed her hand.

Her heart tumbled over in her chest. The fiction was taking root in her mind as a form of reality, in terms of emotions if not the details. She needed to remind herself they weren’t really a couple.

“We went to the Falls together and saw the Big Five, then the private house that belongs to a friend of Joe’s boss was very fancy.”

Marianne eyed her, and Row wondered if her lies had become too elaborate. She spooned up some fragrant gravy and potatoes.

Kurt mopped his brow with a napkin. Pushed his empty bowl away and leaned back looking miserable.

Her throat swelled. She didn’t think he was a man who was used to being incapacitated in any way. “Is it possible for Joe to get a cold bath or shower?”

Marianne eyed him more critically then. “Of course. Bathroom’s through that door on the right. If you run him a bath, I’ll make up a bed for the two of you.”

“Oh, give me the bedding. I can make it up.”

Marianne shook her head. “From the looks of him one of us needs to make sure he doesn’t drown in the bath, and I think he’d rather that was you than me.”

Row glanced at the man in question who had closed his eyes, a reluctant smile on his face. “You’re probably right.”

He muttered. “I can handle a bath and getting into bed without help.”

“And if it were I who was sick?” Row demanded.

He blew out a frustrated breath. “Fine.”

She finished her stew, chewing the last morsel of beef. “At least let me wash the dishes as soon as I have Joe tucked up. Hopefully, the paracetamol and antibiotics will kick in soon.”

Marianne nodded. “I’ll make us a hot drink while your man gets some rest. We’ll set off early tomorrow. He’ll be as good as new in a few days, but make sure he finishes the whole course of antibiotics.”

Your man .

Rowena liked the sound of that even though it wasn’t true.

It was nice to pretend for a while though.

Pretend she wasn’t alone in the world. Pretend FBI agent Kurt Montana was her long-distance boyfriend, not a relative stranger helping her escape from unexpected danger while enjoying a few mutual benefits along the way.

She walked around the table and touched his good arm, noticed his skin was hot and dry. Even so, he remembered to pick up the rucksack as he rolled slowly to his feet.