Jungle Lover

by Sally Heywood

  But if it was war, she was ready. She had a lot of pent-up emotion to get off her chest. 'Take your disgusting hands off me!' she yelled in his face. 'I don't obey orders from you or from anyone else, not even if you think you rule the universe!'

  He was shaking her again, nearly making her teeth rattle, his face a mask of rage, with a line of white around his lips. 'You have two choices, you little fury: either you do as I say or you go back where you came from.'

  Chrissy felt suddenly betrayed. He had said he was leaving, never to return. She had suffered the pangs of bereavement for nothing. Here he was, sneaking back almost straight away. 'You do one thing and say another!' she shrieked. 'Why should I have to take notice of an arbitrary despot like you? And get your hands off!'

  She began to wriggle like a wild cat, but he slammed her back against the broad base of the tree and pinned her to it by the shoulders with both hands. In order to stop her kicking him he then locked his pelvis against hers. The action only made her see red. But even as she jerked her head from side to side she could feel her strength ebbing. He could do that. Just by touching her. Yet now she saw him in his true colours her recent weakness for him had dissolved like mist. There was no way, melting touch or not, she would ever give in.

  'Calm down,' he was saying over and over again, 'just calm down.'

  'Me? You're the one! You're furious just because somebody dared to disobey you! I'd hate to be one of your servants if you treat a complete stranger like this!'

  He was still murmuring soothing words to her, but he broke off to say, 'My staff seem very happy. You don't think I have to shout at them, do you?'

  'If that's true why shout at me?' Then she jerked her head sideways. 'Stop it! Stop looking at me like that....' She darted a glance at him. 'Why don't you leave go of my shoulders and just back off?'

  'I'm not sure you won't fly at me again. You have a nasty kick.'

  'You deserve more than that. Scaring me out of my skin. You must have been lying in wait for me.'

  'Nothing of the sort. I just happened to walk up.'

  'Just happened to walk up?' Plainly he was lying. It was quite difficult to find the ascent tree if you didn't have Gavin's map in your hand.

  'I'm not interested in whether you believe me or not. I'm not in the habit of lying. I came out to find you. There's been some trouble. As these things happen in threes I thought I would check you out. Now thank me for taking the trouble.'

  'Thank you? That's the last thing I'll ever do!'

  'Suit yourself. You simply show bad manners, immaturity and utter selfishness. Do you never think of anyone but yourself?' Suddenly his face took on a grimmer expression. 'Hasn't it entered your silly head that there is a good reason to bring me back here so shortly after leaving the place? I seem to remember I even told you I would definitely not be back.'

  'It's because of your arbitrary nature, I suppose,' she jerked out. 'Why ask me? How should I know, what goes on in your mind?' He was still pinning her against the tree and despite her hostility she could feel his hard body inflaming a traitorous desire inside her.

  'Think.'

  'Think?'

  'Did you not see my helicopter overhead? From up there surely you saw it?'

  She nodded. 'Yours? I saw a black helicopter. I didn't know it was yours.'

  He seemed to think this explained things and Chrissy herself was finding it hard to keep track of what they were saying. She gave a little mewing sound in her throat as his lips seemed to swim before her eyes. Suddenly she found herself abruptly released. As she stumbled a hand came out and gripped her by the upper arm and started to drag her back through the trees.

  'I have to get back to the house and you're coming with me. You can't be trusted not to get up to more tomfoolery out here. 1 shall seriously consider sending you back home.'

  'You make me sound like a parcel,' she mocked. 'What if I won't go?'

  'You will. Or you'll find yourself in deep trouble with the authorities.'

  You need officialdom to back you up, do you?' she hissed.

  'Don't goad me, Chrissy. I haven't made up my mind what I'm going to do with you, but be sure of one thing: whatever I do I won't need the help of anyone else to do it!' He swung her round so strongly she bumped up against him, then his arms came round her and his hot lips were pressing rapaciously over hers. She was all flame and honey and for a split second out of time her anger spiralled out of sight. But when he released her the look of satisfaction on his face brought it swooping back. 'You see, 1 make no idle threat,' he told her. 'Be warned.' As if satisfied he had proved his point, he continued to drag her towards the house, despite her yelps of protest.

  When they got back the reason for his initial fury was explained. Lars had spent the night in a hide within the canopy as Hans had surmised. But on climbing down that morning he had slipped and fallen from branch to branch a long way through the canopy before he had managed to get a strong enough hold on one of the algae-covered branches. He had then let himself down on the rope, when he finally managed to find it again, his progress slow and agonising because, he said, he thought he'd broken his back. He had managed to drag himself a few yards from the base of the tree when Hans had found him.

  The helicopter had come in response to a call for help and now it had taken off again to take Lars and the guilt-ridden Hans to the nearest hospital.

  'That's why I don't want you climbing about by yourself. There are many other dangers you are no doubt unaware of too,' he added icily. Apparently he hadn't forgiven her for the things she had said. The kiss had been a punishment.

  She hated him. But she saw the reason for his anger even if she didn't agree that he had cause to worry. 'I'm not surprised he slipped if he's been perched up in a tree all night. Anyone would slip. He was probably half asleep.'

  'So you are not to be trusted?'

  She glared at him.

  He gave a thin smile in reply. 'I suppose if you were calm enough right now you would say, "On the contrary I am to be trusted, I've made no promise not to go into the tree"?' When he saw her eyelids flicker in acknowledgement he added, 'At last I think I'm beginning to understand you.'

  'I wouldn't get too involved in the exercise. Obviously you want me to leave.'

  'Yes. True.' His lips tightened. 'I shall tell you later when you may go. And where you will be going to.'

  'What?' She gazed at him in astonishment, but without answering he turned on his heel and went out.

  Chrissy sat on the railing of the veranda and gazed back at the house. What did he mean by that last remark? Well, it probably didn't mean a thing. It would be strange being here without Hans and Lars and she wondered how long Hans would stay away. It was like an Agatha Christie mystery where all the suspects disappeared one by one.

  She got up and went inside. She found it shocking to discover her crazy infatuation turning so suddenly to hatred again. But she should have realised that emotions which effervesced like that would come rapidly to nothing. It was lucky she hadn't surrendered to his practised Casanova charms! Now there really would have been a wailing and a gnashing of teeth!

  Feeling quite perky, as if with their antagonism in the open it had cleared the air, she strolled into the sitting-room and poured herself a nice, long, drink. Then as she turned she gave a gasp. Reclining on one of the sofas was a young girl of about sixteen or seventeen. She had her eyes shut and it gave Chrissy a chance to give her a careful look.

  She was exquisitely beautiful, with a pert face and long raven-black hair coiling over a tiny bosom. Gold gleamed at throat and wrists. Chrissy stepped a little closer. Then the girl stretched her left hand above her head. It was impossible not to see. She wore a thin gold ring on her wedding finger... and it bore the same crest as the one Rodrigo wore.

  Feeling dizzy, Chrissy could only gape. So far she had managed to push to one side the vague questions that crested ring had aroused. Many men wore rings and usually it meant nothing. But now, seeing one with an i
dentical eagle crest, her mind rampaged with speculation. It could surely mean only one thing.

  This was the bride of Garcia Montada.

  All her carefully engineered assurances to herself collapsed in a heap of dust. Hated him, did she? So why this dreadful, wrenching sickness clawing at her insides?

  She was groping for something to hold on to when he came back into the room.

  'Get your things,' he ordered with a sweeping glance to encompass the two women. 'The helicopter will be here in ten minutes.' Then he turned to what Chrissy now knew to be his girl-bride. 'Come, caro, wake up. We have to leave.'

  CHAPTER SIX

  Chrissy hadn't really believed Rodrigo was married. Or maybe she just hadn't wanted to believe it? He didn't act married. And, she defended herself, at home wedding-rings were worn on the left hand. Only in some countries they were worn on the right. His was on the left. But was that the custom of the country or not? It was just a ring. She hadn't known what it meant. Now she still didn't know—but she knew that Juanita was no figment of her imagination.

  They were crammed in the four-seater helicopter, the two women at the back. Rod was sitting at the front beside the pilot and before they fastened their seatbelts Juanita was kneeling up on her seat behind him with her arms clasped round his neck, resting her black head against his, chattering and giggling and playing with his hair in a kittenish sort of way until they were ready to leave.

  She must have made a joke about his hair being too long because she pulled it and turned to Chrissy, saying something in Portuguese, and Rod gave her a playful pat over his shoulder, catching Chrissy's glance as he did so. His eyes changed from laughter to something else in a moment, like a cloud covering the sun. Chrissy pretended to look out of the window. Juanita's skittishness would have been charming in any other situation. Now it was as painful as a hundred knives in her heart.

  With a lurch the helicopter climbed into the air, hovered, then began its swooping journey over the tops of the trees. Despite her painful emotions Chrissy couldn't help being enthralled by the sight. At his boss's request the pilot hovered whenever there was anything of special interest to see, and Rod handed her a pair of binoculars so she could see the flora more clearly. From a distance the canopy looked like a vast cauliflower.

  It was too noisy to talk and she had no idea how long they were going to be in the air but when Juanita touched her on the arm and pointed to one side she saw what she first took to be the horizontal layers of the sky— then she realised it was the distant sea. Closer, clinging to the edge of the land, was a collection of white buildings, a village perhaps. Juanita was smiling. She pointed again. This then was their destination.

  As they drew near Chrissy got a better look at the buildings. They were arranged among trees and she could see a yellow road winding below with people walking on it and a man on horseback. Then the trees opened out— they were flying low now—and she saw a large white house with a shingled roof and balconies. Flower-filled patios and symmetrical gardens surrounded it like the setting for a jewel.

  The yellow road went up to an arched gateway beneath which a cart piled with honey-coloured fruit was passing. The road stopped there, but they flew on over the roof of the house and across an oblong of turquoise water sheltered by an avenue of palms until they reached a meadow with a few long-legged horses in it. Then suddenly, gently, there was grass all around them and instead of looking down at a collection of toy buildings and swimming-pools everything had swung giddily back to life size.

  When the engines were cut Juanita was already out of her seatbelt, her arms round Rod's neck again. He patted the back of her hand and untwined the brown arms with their gold bracelets, getting out first with a word to the pilot as he swung to the ground. Juanita jumped down into his arms and he spun her round before depositing her in the grass.

  Chrissy teetered in the doorway. He didn't expect her to jump into his arms like that, did he? As if he could read her mind he gave her a lop-sided smile as if daring her, but she ignored it and clambered down unaided.

  'Now what?' she asked when she came up beside him.

  'Now we have lunch.'

  She followed him across the paddock, watching him pause for a minute to run his hands over the silken sides of one of the horses, then the three of them moved off, Juanita running on ahead like a little child then coming back to swing on his arm.

  He must love all that attention, thought Chrissy miserably. They made a slightly incongruous couple because he was so much older, sterner, and so authoritative. But she could see that a man like him would enjoy having someone so playful around for after hours. She warned herself not to be bitter—it was impossible to dislike Juanita—and followed them both into the house.

  It was really quite impressive, she thought as she looked round. The house was cool and white inside, with refreshing touches of green from baby palms in big pots, the silky green of cushions and window-hangings setting off the simplicity of white marble and stucco. Rodrigo Garcia Montada was obviously a wealthy man.

  'Juanita,' he growled, 'show Chrissy where she can wash—and ask Rosa which is to be her room.' He turned to Chrissy herself. 'Juanita will bring you outside. We're having lunch on the terrace. Don't be long. We have much to discuss.'

  'We certainly have!' she exclaimed. Since he had accosted her at the foot of the tree she hadn't had a chance to ask anything. The burning question was, how soon could she get back to work?

  Juanita was leaning on the marble balustrade of a wide, shallow staircase that continued in a gallery around the main hall. When she saw Chrissy coming she waited for her and they walked up together.

  'Who is Rosa?' asked Chrissy as they reached what was evidently a bathroom.

  Juanita shook her head. 'How you say?' she giggled. 'No English, sorry.' She pushed open the door and ushered Chrissy inside.

  I've seen smaller bathrooms, she thought as she gazed around in awe. In fact all the ones I've seen were smaller. It really had to be the biggest bathroom ever. The white marble floor made it look even more vast. There were french windows and a balcony at one end, then there was a huge sunken tub like a small swimming-pool, two showers, and a bright blue square of water that she took to be the jacuzzi. Apart from that there was a tempting array of gels and oils and perfume, enough to stock an expensive little shop.

  'For guests,' said Juanita, dragging out the words with pride. 'You are guest. Here.' She turned on one of the showers. 'You have.' She suddenly put her fingers up as if she had remembered something then dashed from the room.

  It wasn't towels or soap that had sent her scurrying away, thought Chrissy, looking longingly at the crystalline drops of water spraying on to the white and green tiles and then at the thick white towels folded neatly on a tiled shelf, for there were those in plenty.

  Just being here made her realise how she'd been roughing it. Sitting up in the forest canopy, then being dragged here without even having time to run a comb through her hair. She glanced at the mirror down one wall and saw that she did indeed look a wreck. Her blonde hair, scraped back in a pony-tail, was straggling in wisps around her face and the old bottle-green shirt and trousers she wore were crumpled and stained from climbing about among the branches.

  The door opened and Juanita came back inside carrying a bundle of bright garments. 'For you. Shower. Then yes?' She plonked the heap of clothes into Chrissy's arms. 'See you in un momento?' She went over to the shower, stuck her hand out as if testing the temperature, then nodded and gestured to try it.

  'Why not?' She smiled her thanks and began to undress as the girl went out.

  The image that greeted her in the mirror ten minutes later was a transformation. Hair washed in one of the aromatic gels and falling in damp tendrils around her shoulders, fingers and toe-nails cleaner than they had been for the last week, a whiff from one of the heavenly scented bottles and a strip of amber-coloured silk tied sarong-style over one shoulder all made her feel human again.

  He
r hair was almost dry as she made her way down the marble staircase. Juanita, wearing a tiny strapless sundress, came out of a side door. 'Now we eat,' she said.

  Feeling a little nervous at the battle she knew lay ahead when Rodrigo started to lay down the law again, as he was bound to do, she followed the bobbing figure of his child-bride and tried to tell herself that this time next week she would probably be back in grey old England and everything that was happening now would seem like a fantastic dream.

  Rodrigo was sitting on the balustrade that separated the terrace from the paved area around the pool. He was wearing a white cotton jacket, white vest that revealed a tantalising expanse of tanned muscle and chest-hair, and baggy pale grey trousers. He wouldn't have looked out of place on the front cover of a magazine. Again Chrissy recalled Eloise's words—'man of mystery'—and wondered about him. Where his wealth and his apparent leisure came from.

  He was watching her as she came out under the green and white striped awning that covered the dining table, but pretended to be looking somewhere else when he saw her watching him. So it's to be cat-and-mouse again, she thought, sitting down in one of the comfortable white wooden chairs with its plump green cushion. Pretty green and white napkins fluttered on the table, and the glint of crystal, silver and fine china, with a flower display of pale roses and lavender, gave the setting a picture-book air.

  The meal when it came was served by a bewildering number of dark-haired maids, but the wine was poured solemnly by a young man of around Chrissy's own age. She felt slightly ill at ease to be the recipient of such lavish attention, but it was obviously all in the day's work for the other two. Juanita chatted non-stop until Rodrigo said sharply, 'English or nothing, Juanita. You should know enough by now. How are your lessons going?'

  The girl pulled a pert face. 'Very good. I speak very good.' Then she shot a mischievous glance at Chrissy. 'I speak good, yes? You tell him.'

  Chrissy tried to hide a smile.