Matilda, the Adventuress

by Iris Johansen

  “Dammit, Roman, I won’t work with them.” Brent’s voice was muffled, but his irritation came through loud and clear as he pressed the ice bag on his swollen nose with extreme care. “I’ve put up with heat, boredom, and celibacy for this picture, but you can forget about those camels. I’ll be lucky if I don’t have to have rhino surgery before this is through and— Stop that chortling, blast it!”

  Roman tried valiantly. “Sorry,” he said solemnly as he sat down on the couch. “I realize what a traumatic experience you’ve gone through, but look at it this way: That was a female camel and she was probably only giving you a little love nip. You know how devastating you are to the female of any species.”

  “Nip?” Brent asked indignantly. “That bitch tried to bite off my nose. And yesterday her male counterpart threw me onto my rump. I suppose you’re going to tell me he was trying to express his affection too.”

  “Well, I’m not sure.” Roman tilted his head as if considering. “Is there such a thing as a gay camel?”

  “Roman, damn you, this is serious.”

  “I’ll have to take a look at your contract. Now we know it covers falling off the edge of the world and dust asphyxiation, but I’m not sure you’re covered for attacks by lovesick camels.”

  Brent lifted the ice bag long enough to take a deep breath and glare at Roman. “I think I’m going to murder you. What have I got to lose? I’d have no problem proving justifiable homicide.”

  “I wouldn’t try it. I might have to sic my camels on you.”

  “You won’t think it’s so funny when you have to shoot around me for the next four days.”

  “It will be worth it.” Roman could no longer suppress a grin. “I don’t think I’ve laughed so hard in the last ten years. And I believe I’ve just had a stroke of genius. The next picture I’ll do will be the Jimmy Durante story and I’ll cast you as the Schnoz. Of course, you may have some competition with old ski-nose, Bob Hope. I guess I’ll just have to keep a camel around to bite—”

  “Definitely justifiable homicide,” Brent pronounced as he put the ice bag back on his nose. “You’re mellow today. I think I preferred your Mr. Hyde persona. At least I wouldn’t have had to contend with your flippant attitude toward this assault on my manly beauty.”

  Roman looked at him in surprise. He hadn’t thought there had been any noticeable change in his demeanor, but evidently Brent was more perceptive than he’d believed. He couldn’t say he’d felt exactly “mellow,” particularly with the exasperation of working with the camels, but he had felt more serene than usual. Perhaps opening up his past and his emotions to Manda had acted as a catharsis to clear away years of corroding bitterness. “We have one more day of shooting with the camels, but maybe we can put a muzzle on them. I’ll talk to the trainer.”

  “You’re too kind,” Brent said gloomily. “With my luck, there’ll probably be some law forbidding muzzles on the grounds of cruelty to animals.”

  There was a brisk knock at the door. Roman was given no opportunity to answer before the door opened to reveal Dennis standing on the steps.

  “Roman, I thought you’d want to see this,” Dennis said as he came into the trailer. He tossed a folded newspaper onto the coffee table. “It was in the mailbag I brought from Sydney this morning. You’re not going to like it.”

  “Good,” Brent said. “He deserves a little unpleasantness after his callous disregard for my personal tragedy.”

  Dennis grinned. “I heard about your little accident. Nasty devils, aren’t they? Serves you right, mate. If you remember, you tried to wish them on me and my Cessna.”

  “That was a joke. However, if you don’t get that grin off your face, I may give up my percentage at the box office to persuade Roman to make you fly them back to Sydney. I’m beginning to relish the thought of that humpbacked cannibal nibbling on your ear while you’re trying to land your precious Cessna. I can see you—” Brent broke off as Roman began to swear vehemently. The newspaper was spread out before Roman and his gaze was on a collection of pictures on the front page of the feature section. “I gather Dennis is right. You’re not pleased. What’s the problem?”

  With scarcely restrained violence, Roman tossed the paper to him. “This is the problem. How the hell did they manage to get their paws on these pictures?”

  Brent glanced down at the newspaper and gave a low whistle of surprise. “Candids. They’ve got shots of all of us. Even those damn camels.” He frowned. “As a matter of fact, this close-up of that bloody camel is better than the one of me. Wouldn’t you know she would upstage me?” He read the headline. “Exclusive pictures of Roman Gallagher’s new blockbuster.” He looked up. “You didn’t give permission for this release?”

  “Hell no! I told you I never permit newspaper stories while I’m filming.”

  “Which is why a picture feature like this is a marketable commodity,” Dennis interjected. “Whoever sold you out must have made a bundle.”

  Brent’s brow creased in a thoughtful frown. “You think one of the crew decided to line his pockets on the side?”

  “Who else?” Roman asked grimly. “It’s not as if we have a stream of visitors coming and going.”

  “That’s right.” Brent slowly folded the paper. “But how would he have gotten the film out of Deadman’s Ridge? The mailbag?”

  “Do you think he would have taken the chance of sending a story to one of the largest newspapers in Australia in the company mailbag?” Dennis shook his head doubtfully. “Not likely. But damned if I know how else he could have done it. The only ones who have left Deadman’s Ridge since you started shooting are me and Manda. I guess it had to be the mailbag.”

  Manda.

  Roman felt an icy chill extinguish his anger. Manda had been a reporter at one time; Manda had said she had gone to Melbourne three days ago. Melbourne or Sydney? Manda had said Killaroo was in New South Wales. Why would a family emergency take her to Melbourne, which was in Victoria? “When did the story break?” he asked slowly.

  Brent looked down at the paper. “Day before yesterday.”

  The chill deepened. It was logical, the pieces fit together.

  “Do you want me to fly into Sydney and bring some security boys back to check into it?” Dennis asked.

  Roman didn’t answer.

  “Roman?”

  “What?” Roman shook his head. “No, not yet. It may be only a one-time occurrence. I don’t want to start any trouble with the crew if it isn’t necessary. We’ll just keep an eye on what goes into the next mailbag.” He stood up and strode to the door. “I think I’ll go for a walk. I need to do some thinking.”

  Dennis frowned. “Are you sure? Security should really be notifi—”

  “I said no!” Roman’s words slashed out. “Not yet.”

  Dennis held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay. Whatever you say. I didn’t mean to challenge your authority.”

  Roman opened the door. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little on edge. I’ll see you both later.”

  “Two visits to our humble camp in one day.” Manda smiled warmly as she crossed the yards that separated the mine opening and the lean-to. “I was coming to see you, but I wanted to bathe in the billabong first.” She ran her fingers through her dust-impregnated hair and made a face. “I’m positively filthy. Now that you’re here though, I want you to meet Jacto.” She looked around and frowned. “Now, where the devil is he?”

  “He took off when he saw me coming across the field. Evidently he doesn’t want to make my acquaintance.”

  “Darn it. Jacto is acting very strange lately.” She shrugged. “Oh, well, he’ll let me know what it’s all about eventually.”

  “Manda, what are you doing here?” Roman’s question was harshly abrupt.

  Manda’s smile faded. “You know I can’t tell you yet. You’ll just have to trust me a little longer.”

  “I’m not big on trust, remember?” His lips tightened. “But I’m trying, dammit. Is what you’re doing illeg
al?”

  “What would you do if I said yes?” she asked curiously.

  “Get you a lawyer and then spank your fanny until you couldn’t sit down for a month.”

  She laughed. “It’s not a illegal, but I appreciate the fact you wouldn’t turn me over to the gendarmes.”

  He slowly shook his head. “No, I’d never do that. No matter what you did.”

  “You’re acting as strangely as Jacto. Is something wrong?”

  “No.” He was still looking at her with painful intensity. “Manda, you know if you need money, you can come to me. I’ll give you anything you want.”

  Five hundred thousand dollars? she wondered ruefully. He didn’t realize what he was saying. There was no way she could ask him for that kind of money. “I appreciate your offer, but I like earning my own way. I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”

  “Do that. Manda, I—” He stopped, as if searching for words.

  Manda was looking at him in bewilderment. “Yes?”

  “Nothing,” he muttered as he turned away. “I’m going back to the trailer. Come as soon as you can.”

  She grinned, “Come running?”

  The glance he threw over his shoulder caused her smile to vanish. There was desperation, anger, desire, and something else that shocked her. Fear. “Yes,” he said tightly. “Come running.”

  Seven

  “Look, are you going to tell me what the devil is going on?” Manda put her wineglass on the end table beside the couch. “I’m too tired to play guessing games tonight. All through dinner you’ve been as moody and unsociable as a eucalyptus-starved koala, and I’ve had enough.”

  “Why should anything be wrong?”

  “How should I know?” she said between her teeth. “This morning everything was beautiful, and tonight you’re treating me as if I were some kind of a criminal.”

  “Perhaps you’re being oversensitive. Is there any reason why I should treat you as a criminal?” He looked down into the clear depths of the Chablis in his glass. “I told you I could be difficult. You’ll find I’m a hell of a lot easier if people are honest with me.”

  “Are you still harping on the opal mine? You know I’ll tell you what I’m doing there as soon as possible, dammit. I want to be open with you. It’s just—”

  “No qualifications!” His voice was harsh with near violence. “No ifs or justs! I can take that from other people, but not from you. Do you know how many times I’ve been lied to in my life? When I was a kid, it was supposedly done for kindness’ sake. ‘Your mother was too busy to come to your graduation exercises.’ ‘You’re not really ugly, but interesting-looking.’ Then, later, the lies had nothing to do with kindness, only greed.” He downed the wine in one swallow and placed the glass on the end table beside her own. “I’m trying to accept your secret, but it’s not a simple thing for me to do. I’m feeling raw and used and I can be very … savage when I’m feeling like this.”

  “My God, I think you’re threatening me.” She was staring at him in disbelief.

  “I’m not threatening you,” he said wearily. “I’m trying to warn you.”

  “Warn me? Warn me against what?”

  “Let’s drop it. I don’t want to talk anymore.” He stood up and reached down to bring her to her feet. “There’s one sure way I know we can communicate.” He strode swiftly to the bedroom, pulling her behind him. “Let’s go to bed.”

  “Roman, stop.” Manda could feel her exasperation and frustration rising in equal proportions. “I don’t want this, dammit.”

  “You will. You’re a very hot lady.” He flicked on the lamp and pushed her to a sitting position on the brown silk coverlet on the bed. His fingers were quickly unbuttoning his shirt. “You know you’ll enjoy it once you relax.”

  “Relax and enjoy?” she asked. “I’ll be damned if I’ll relax.”

  He shrugged out of his shirt and threw it aside. His muscles gleamed in the lamplight, and she was suddenly conscious of the strength of those muscles. She inhaled sharply and felt a stirring in the pit of her stomach. It seemed like a long time since he had made love to her, an impossibly long time. The sexual tension was abruptly swirling in charged waves around them.

  “We’ll see,” he said. “Perhaps it would be more enjoyable for both of us if you didn’t relax. You needn’t look at me as if I’m some kind of rapist. I’m not about to force you, Manda.” He began unbuttoning her sleeveless blouse. “Anytime you want me to stop, I will.” He thrust the blouse open and unfastened her bra. He held her gaze as he slowly slipped the straps from her shoulders and then slid them down her arms until the garment dropped to the floor. “All you have to do is say the word.” His palms cupped her breasts, gently weighing her heaviness, his hands opening and closing with a rhythmic pressure. She inhaled sharply as an aching tingle of desire surged through her. The pressure of his large hands was unbelievably erotic. His thumbs were flicking the crests of her nipples and his eyes holding her own were dark and smoky with hunger. “But why should you tell me no?” he asked softly. “You want this as much as I do, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “But not like this, not—” She broke off with a little cry as his thumbs and forefingers closed on her nipples with just enough pressure to send a jolt of electricity through every vein in her body. The muscles of her belly clenched and released.

  His gaze was narrowed and intent. “You like that?” He tugged gently and she gasped and closed her eyes, her spine arching as she swayed toward him.

  “I do too. You’re so damn lovely. Do you know how swollen and ripe you are? How hard and pointed your nipples are between my fingers?” His thumbs and forefingers were rubbing with gentle friction back and forth. “When you were gone, I lay in this bed and thought about you until I nearly went crazy. I hurt so. Just like I’m hurting now. Are you so hungry for me that you hurt like that, Manda?” His hand left her breast and slid slowly down her smooth abdomen. She shuddered. His palm was heavy and hard and left a trail of fire in its wake. “Open your eyes, love. I want to see how much you want me.”

  She opened her eyes. His expression was no longer hard or reckless. His lips held a heavy sensuality and his eyes were blazing. She could see the erratic throb of the pulse in his throat. “Tell me you want me,” he said hoarsely. “I have to know that wasn’t a lie too. You don’t have to tell me you love me, but I have to know you want me.”

  “I do want you.” Her words were halting, spoken through a haze of desire and bewilderment. “And I do love you.”

  He didn’t answer as his fingers undid the snap of her cut-off jeans and he slowly slid them over her hips. “And what do you want me to do to you to-night?” He sank to his knees on the floor, his arms wrapping and enfolding her thighs and knees. The springy triangle of dark hair on his chest was a provocative abrasion against her thighs as his teeth nibbled at the soft flesh of her belly. “Do you like to see me kneeling here before you? Does it make you feel powerful? Would you like me to make up a fantasy about an Amazon who uses men and then discards them?” His palm was rubbing back and forth across the tight curls that guarded her womanhood. He looked up and met her gaze as he plucked teasingly. “You’re trembling. Perhaps you do like this.” He blew gently and she made a hoarse, broken sound deep in her throat. His palms slid around to cup her buttocks and he began to squeeze gently. “We’ve only just begun to tap the reservoir of our fantasies, but you’ll have to tell me what you like. Does power turn you on?”

  She was swaying and his words came hazily through the sensual web he was weaving around her. He was turning her on. Every touch, the scent of him, the masculine aggressiveness of his big body. But there was something wrong, an edge beneath that rampant sensuality. What had he said? Power? She shook her head as much to clear it as in negation. “No, I’ve never wanted power over anyone.”

  “You prefer submission? I admit I like that game better myself.” He was suddenly rising. “Just sit there and wait for me.” He smiled. “I
won’t be long.” He was stripping quickly.

  She found herself sitting on the edge of the bed watching him. The brown satin coverlet was cool against her naked thighs. She needed that coolness, she was burning up and yet shivers of sensation were convulsing her. He was so big he dominated the small room and there was an element of danger in him tonight that excited even as it puzzled her.

  He was naked and was again smiling at her with that odd gleam of recklessness in his eyes. He sat down on the bed beside her, careful not to touch her. “You’re mine,” he said softly. “I’m the commanding general of Caesar’s invading forces in Britain and you’re the daughter of a Saxon king. Your people are defeated and you’re my captive. I saw you, wanted you, and told my men to bring you to my tent.” He was still not touching her, but his gaze was running over her with tactile sensuality. “I’ve told you I’ll free your father and work with your people to make the defeat easier.” One hand reached out to finger the silky hair at her temple. “But only if you obey me, if you give me pleasure, if you become my mistress and my slave. You have no choice.” His hand wandered down from her hair to cover her right breast. “Do you?”

  His palm was heavy, burning her, stopping her breath. “No,” she whispered. The excitement was unbearable, the imagery, Roman, his touch, his voice. “I don’t think I do.”

  “Then come here.” He sat there, his muscles coiled with tension as he spread his thighs, waiting. “Get up and stand before me. I wish you to pleasure me.”

  She didn’t know if she could stand up. Her knees had no more consistency than water. Yet she found herself on her feet standing between his knees.

  “That’s right,” he murmured. His lips suckled delicately at one pointed nipple. “Just stand there and let me take you with my mouth and my hands.” His palms were running over her naked spine and down to the swell of her buttocks. He closed his eyes and a shudder ran through him. “I love the scent of you. You smell of flowers, and life, and woman. Sometimes all you have to do is pass within two feet of me and I become so aroused I’m aching with it.”