Flavio? That right now they were together at Raya's bamboo house? That would shake him, and surely hurt him. She wanted to hurt him, but knew she had not the lack of heart for such cruelty.
"I – I want to go back and watch the dancing," she said as coolly as possible. "May I?"
"You cannot bear my touch, eh?" His soft laugh brushed warm against her temple. "It is like being caught again in the macca-bush, only worse."
"Yes," she tossed back her head and met his eyes fearlessly. "Y-you enjoy tearing at me because I'm young and I don't know a lot about the world, like Poppy Tyson. But at least I have a heart. She keeps a diamond where hers should be !"
"And what kind of heart have I ?" he asked, with mocking interest.
He had one ! She could feel the deep beat of it against her shoulder, and the fact that he was near enough to her to feel that deep, steady beating was instant robbery of her moment of courage. Her knees went weak, and all she wanted was to be back among the noisy merry-makers from whom she had fled.
"I – I've never given your heart much thought," she said. "You seem too armoured, too self-controlled for feelings—"
"Be assured that I have them, pequina mia, like any other man." Even as she caught the note of danger in his voice, his arm locked her to him, a muscled vice from which there was no escape. He tipped her back, into the cradle of his arm, but whether he intended to kiss her or merely meant to frighten her she never learned, for in that instant a scream rang through the forest.
It rose to a pitch of anguish, and Morvenna's wide, frightened eyes locked with the senhor's an instant before he released her. They turned from each other towards' the direction of the scream and saw a tower of flame gush above the treetops. The drums went deadly still, so that the roar of burning thatch and palm-wood could be plainly heard.
"The sparks from the feast fires have blown on to one of the houses !" exclaimed the senhor. "If the fire spreads to the eucalyptus plantation there will be an inferno !"
The next instant he was gone from Morvenna's side and was thrusting his way through the forest towards the roar of the flames, the hubbub of voices, and the intermittent screaming of a woman in hysterics.
Morvenna raced after him, her heart in her mouth.
CHAPTER NINE
WHEN Morvenna arrived at the scene of the fire, billows of pungent smoke were arising from a trio of palm-wood huts not far from where she had sat during the feasting. The young Indian girl who had sat beside her, laughing and swaying to the rhythm of the drums, was being held back forcibly by her parents from plunging into one of the burning huts, and Morvenna realized with horror that the young widow's baby son was still inside.
Even as she stood stricken beside Arima, not knowing what to do or say, a figure leapt out from among
the flames that were consuming the central hut. A lean figure, cast in copper by the red glare, sparks and burning thatch raining down on him and the bundle he shielded close to him as he raced through the blaze into the clearing, where someone snatched his burden, while other dark hands tore the smouldering jacket from his shoulders and beat out the flickers of flame at the bottoms of his trousers.
Morvenna felt her heart turn over with relief. Her eyes fixed on that tall, seared figure, his face glistening with sweat, his hair in disorder, rattling orders about beating out the fires even as the Indians beat out the flames from his clothing.
Arima clutched her baby son to her. She looked him over with frantic, tearful eyes, and then rained kisses all over him. He was crying loudly with fright, but had emerged otherwise unscathed in the sure arms of the man who had snatched him from the but that was now a roaring bonfire. It lit up a fantastic scene, one that burned its way into Morvenna's memory as the fire-fighters ran to attack the flames that were running to the edge of the forest, where beyond the bushes and palms and straggling banyans stood the eucalpytus trees, fuel for an inferno that would spread across half the island if it got going, and rage for days.
Morvenna joined one of the groups and beat away with a branch of green palm someone thrust into her hand. Leird. Aroused out of his melancholy by the danger in the air, a rugged purposeful look about him.
"Where's Poppy ?" Smoke tears made channels down Morvenna's cheeks as she and Leird beat at the burning bushes side by side.
"I saw her making for the fazenda, " he coughed. "I bet she's gone to put her diamonds in a safe place, while we work like demons to put this fire out."
Morvenna grimaced, for it was just the sort of thing Poppy would be doing, safeguarding her loot while others suffered the acute discomfort of smoke-burned eyes and parched throats. Morvenna sneezed as the pungent smoke tickled her nostrils, and she saw through the trees a group of Indians, dominated by a figure in a scorched tan shirt, beating like maniacs at the fibred trunks of some palms that had caught alight.
"Are we going to make it, Leird ?" she asked huskily.
He flashed a smile at her begrimed and anxious face. "If the Senhor Patrao keeps us busy all tonight and tomorrow. Wow, I'm hot !" He stripped off his shirt. "Come on, Venna, we'll head left and have a go at those bushes before they flare right up."
A few minutes later they had drawn near to Raya's house, and Morvenna saw outlined by the firelight the figures of Raya and Flavio as they worked side by side to keep the flames from the fencing that surrounded the bamboo house. Sparks were flying like fireflies, and all at once Morvenna heard a cry of pain from Raya. One of the sparks must have caught her near the eye, for when Morvenna glanced up she saw Flavio standing over the slim figure, his arm around her waist as he attended to the mishap.
Morvenna pushed at the hair that was plastered to her forehead, fingers of apprehension gripping her heart as beside her Leird stood staring at Raya and Flavio, the smoke and the noise of the fire-beaters a dramatic setting for that intimate scene. "What the devil—" Morvenna caught at Leird's arm as he was
about to stride over to Flavio, a man who couldn't bear to see another touching the girl he wanted.
"The fire, Leird !" she said tensely. "Look, it's spreading towards the fence !"
She heard the harsh sound made by Leird's throat as he swallowed, then with a grimly set jaw he was lashing again with his palm branch at the flames that threatened Raya's house.
The long, arduous, suffocating hours passed away and the flames were finally stifled. As dawn's light filtered into the sky above the eucalyptus trees, Morvenna saw a smoke-grimed figure striding slowly through the forest towards her.
She had become separated from Leird ages ago, and at this moment was leaning spent against one of the trees she had helped to save, working through the night as tirelessly as the men. Her dawn-coloured dress was ripped, singed, and smoke-blackened. Near the tree where she rested wisps of smoke curled up here and there, and much of the bush close to the village was burned to stubble. The birds did not sing as daylight approached, they only created a worried sort of activity deep in the forest.
The ashy scrub crunched underfoot as Roque came to stand in front of her tired, sooty figure. "Madre de Deus !" he murmured, his teeth flashing white against his smoke-scorched face. "Do I look as dirty as you, meninaVinha?"
"Worse," she said huskily. "You look like a pirate who has been busy at the cannon, besieging the island."
He laughed, his black hair tousled, his red-rimmed eyes agleam with the triumph of a job well done.
They had saved the island from extensive damage, and the huts that had been destroyed could soon be rebuilt.
"I wish you to know how grateful I am, Miss Fayr, for all your assistance last night." His bow was gallant, old-world, and somehow in keeping with his piratical appearance. "I saw you working alongside Mr. Challen, and I knew he would not let you come to any harm. Where is he now ?"
"Flaked out on his bed, I expect." Her smile was half a yawn. "Forgive me, senhor, I'm ready for my own bed — after a long cool drink and a shower."
"You shall have both, at once !"
In
an instant she knew his intention, but it would have been as futile to fight him now as it had been dangerous to provoke him last night. As he swept her up in his arms and carried her in the direction of the fazenda, she wondered at the ruthlessness that ran side by side in him with an amazing gallantry. Not many men would have plunged into a blazing but after an Indian baby, emerging out of the flames like one of the fire-gods of the ancient Aztecs.
Morvenna remembered the scene vividly, and as he carried her, as though she were no more of a burden than Arima's baby had been, she glimpsed through the tatters of his shirt several painful-looking burn marks on the coppery muscles of his chest and arms.
"I hope no one got badly hurt last night," she said, her lashes lowered so he shouldn't see her gaze on his branded shoulders.
"The islanders are tough," he was smiling. "Those who were slightly burned will enjoy the fuss their wives will make of them."
"You appear to have a few minor burns yourself; senhor."
"And no wife to make a fuss of me," his smile grew mocking.
Only Raya, Morvenna thought, biting her lip. Who was playing with the most dangerous fire of all . . . the hearts of three men.
Morvenna thought of the girl in Flavio's arms last night . . . being carried off as she was now being carried in the senhor's arms ! Her pulses gave a disturbing leap, while the rest of her lay very still in his arms.
As they neared the fazenda, they passed under one of those honey-scented trees whose flowers were like pale stars in the dawn light. His tall head disturbed a cluster and they showered down, cool, fragrant, dusting his copper frame with their petals. Morvenna gently brushed the blossom from his shoulder before she realized the intimacy of the action. He glanced down at her and again she lost a pulse-beat as she met the sapphire gleam of his eyes.
A moment later they reached the compound, and the sky overhead was soaked in morning fire. He halted to gaze up at the sun as it rose, and they were bathed together in the warm rosy glow.
"Glorious," he murmured. "Can you wonder, senhorinha, that for me the island of Janaleza is all the world ? The dawns like a bursting pearl, and sunsets to stop the heart. Tonight the lua nova will be born, and when she dies the steamer will be on its way from Manaos."
The new moon, herald of Morvenna's remaining days on the island.
"My stay has certainly been a memorable one." Her gaze was on the sunrise. "When I am home again in England I shall remember all this – the scents of the island, the sounds, and the unexpected that seems as much a part of it as the tall trees and the Indians."
He lowered her to her feet, and then for a moment held her face lifted to his. "This quest for your father, you intend to discontinue it when you return to Manaos ?"
"I have no map, no money, no more hope in me that he's still alive, somewhere in the jungle." She sighed. "Still, I have grown up on this trip. Now I can face the future without him."
"There is yet the journey into love for you to take." The blue eyes looking down into hers smiled quizzically. "Do you hesitate to take it, after daring alone the hazards of a strange country ?"
"Love has to come to one, doesn't it, senhor? If it comes, then I shan't be afraid. If it passes me by—" she shrugged and tried not to feel the warm strength of his hand cupping her face, holding her so that she had to meet the flame-blue of his eyes. "Does a woman have to marry ? Is she such a weak reed that she cannot stand alone ?"
"Woman is not weak, senhorinha, but a woman alone is one without companionship or children."
"Please," she gave a weary little shiver, "I should like to go indoors. I – I'm so tired—"
"Forgive me," his hand dropped away from her face. "Take a shower, and then when you are in bed I shall send Isidra to you with a pot of delicious coffee."
"Thank you." She gave him a grave, grubby-faced smile. "It was wonderful what you did, saving Arima's
baby." Then she was hurrying from him, holding up the torn skirt of her dress as she hastened up the steps of the veranda and sought the haven of her bedroom.
Excitement always brings with it a sense of anti-climax, and the occupants of the fazenda (excluding its master) were inclined to laziness for a day or two. Poppy and Leird played cards and quarrelled, and then made up again over iced glasses of gin and lemon.
Morvenna shared a bamboo lounger with her pet coati, and listened idly to her two companions on the veranda as she stroked Ringo's furry coat. Suddenly her lashes stirred, and she watched as Poppy tilted back her head and laughed mockingly at Leird. "There, I've beaten you again ! Whatever's the matter, my Red Lion ? You are all growl and no bite this morning."
"It's this outlandish place !" He eyed his drink, then tossed it back as though it stung him. "I shall be glad to get back to civilization."
"I thought you were having fun here." Poppy gave a flirt of her esparto fan. "You know, Leird, you might have guessed there was a 'no trespassing' sign around that tropical flower who plays at being nurse of the island. Raya read it out the evening of the fire, didn't she? She said that Latin love is adoration — when a woman has been clever enough to arouse it. She meant the grand senhor, of course, and that she had aroused his love."
"You must have got a few scratches yourself, trying to climb through the barbed wire around him," Leird hit back.
"I'll admit that physique, that accent, and those blue
eyes got me going for a while, but just think," she glanced maliciously at Morvenna, "of being tied to a man who thinks an island is the world, and who is so steeped in feudal ideas that his wife would never be allowed to take little trips on her own. A man like that has got to marry a girl of his own sort, and Raya is the obvious choice. I'm sure Morvenna agrees with me.
Morvenna had a swift mental picture of Raya in the arms of Flavio, and she seemed also to see the flash of the blade that had made the girl the possession of Roque de Braz Ferro. He would not let go of anything he wanted . . . of that she was very sure.
"Whatever happens here on Janaleza, we shall be gone by this time next week," she replied.
"You sound very cool about it all." Poppy eyed her inquisitively. "Won't you be sorry to say good-bye to Nuno? I mean, there have been those visits of yours to his tree-house, and since he's been away you've been looking rather pensive."
"Nuno should have been back by now," Leird put in. "The senhor said as much last night, when we were out here having a cigar together. I think he's sending some trackers out after the boy if he isn't back by Wednesday. He told me that no matter how well you know the forest, it can still be a dangerous place—"
"Does he think something has happened to Nuno ?" Morvenna was gazing at Leird with troubled eyes. "Please tell me !"
"He's anxious," Leird admitted. "The boy is Raya's brother, and Latin men have this strong feeling of responsibility towards members of their family – I expect he already regards Nuno as such."
"Did he go off into the forest in a huff?" drawled Poppy. "Really, my pet, you shouldn't have upset him—"
"Don't say that !" Morvenna jumped to her feet, disturbing the coati, who made a grumbling noise and dug his pointed nose into a cushion. Morvenna walked to the veranda rail and gripped it. "Nuno has got to be all right. I – I couldn't bear it if anything happened to him—"
"My, you have got it bad !" Ice tinkled in Poppy's drink as she lifted the glass to her lips. "I've always said that the cool-looking girls are the ones with the warmest feelings when it comes to love."
"You don't understand." Morvenna swung round, and let her dislike of the other girl's hardness show in her eyes. "This treasure hunt has been unlucky enough – it's killed two people already. I don't want to see a third added to the list."
"Superstitious as well ?" Poppy quirked a painted eyebrow, and a cold flash of light was caught in her eyes as they dwelt on the slender, silver-haired figure by the veranda rail, where a cluster of Virgin's Pagoda clung and climbed. "Let me tell you that if the treasure map had been recovered, I'd have gone on w
ith the hunt. Gerry had a notion there was something in it. He said that the Indian settlement marked on the map was on the site of an old Inca sun-temple. It was in those temples that the Incas buried their gold and their gems."
Morvenna stared at the greedy light in Poppy's eyes. "Is money all you care about ?" she asked. "Don't people mean anything to you ?"
"Some of them can be fun," drawled Poppy, "but I
dislike those who are a little too intense. Life, my pet, is a rich, raw merry-go-round. And love is like tropical fruit, sweet but swiftly perishable."
A pointed fingernail flashed downwards and stabbed one of the green-gold papayas on the bamboo table, where the playing cards were scattered.
"Any arguments, Leird ?" Poppy looked at him and . laughed.
He frowned morosely. "Leave Venna alone," he said. "She's nicer than we have ever been, Poppy. She doesn't understand our kind of philosophy."
It was true, and Morvenna wasn't staying to hear any more of it. "I'm going for a walk," she said, and the next moment she had snatched her grass hat from the bamboo lounger, and was running down the veranda steps and heading across the compound. The sun burned overhead, a sultry orange sun with something a little stormy about it. Morvenna didn't notice. She was thinking of Nuno, and upon reaching the coolness of the trees, she followed the path that led to his tree-house.
She hoped he would be home and safe, but upon daring the rope-ladder alone she found the thatched turret among the treetops still unoccupied. The monkeys in the nearby trees screeched at the intruder, and the macaw on his perch bade her ate a vista.
"All right, I'm going in a minute." She gazed around at the Indian masks and other oddments adorning the walls of the hut, and glanced at the little shelf of books. About half a dozen of them were out of line with the others and she gave them a tidying push. They wouldn't move. Something was thrust behind them, and upon taking an idle look she saw something that
made her drop several of the books in astonishment.
She stared at the object they had concealed. It was of brown leather and oblong, with a sea-rusted latch . . . her writing-case which had been at the bottom of the sea, and which Nuno must have found.
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