Desert Barbarian

by Charlotte Lamb

  The creeper-hung trees swayed noisily, then a figure emerged, just a few feet from the tiger's crouched body. With incredulous dismay Marie recognised the tall, dark man in white shirt and casual beige slacks, his head cocked as he took in the scene confronting him.

  The tiger flicked his tail with a lazy motion, turning his head to survey the new arrival on the scene, and Peter panted up beside Marie, flinging a protective arm around her.

  'What's up?' he demanded. 'I heard you scream…' Then his eyes flashed down into the little clearing and he swore under his breath.

  'God!' He fumbled at his belt and gave a groan of dismay. 'My pistol! I left it in the temple…'

  As he turned to go and get it, she said quickly, 'I'll go. Try to distract the tiger. Keep it occupied. Make a lot of noise—try to frighten it away.'

  She ran into the darkness, searching the gloom with eyes that at first could take nothing in, then she saw the scuffed trail of Peter's footsteps across the centuries of leaf mould which had fallen down through the open arches in the walls and made a carpet across part of the floor. She ran forward, following the trail of Peter's feet, until she came to a fallen block of masonry on which lay an open notebook, some pencils and the pistol. Light re­flected back from the metal of the pistol as she picked it up and turned to run back.

  She heard Peter shouting, stamping his feet. The tiger made a deep menacing sound in his throat, then gave an appalling roar of rage.

  Peter shouted again, in alarm. 'Run… get back!'

  Terror chilled Marie's blood. It seemed an eternity until she could reach the door, and her eyes, accustomed now to the gloom inside, had to adjust to the dazzle of sunlight before she could take in what was happening.

  Stonor was on his back, wrestling helplessly with the huge animal, while Peter was gallantly slashing at its eyes with a bamboo stake. She saw wet stains of sweat spread across the back of his shirt.

  She had once been shown how to fire a pistol. Instinct made her now fling up her arm, her eyes narrowing on-the tiger's head. The recoil of the shot made her deaf for a moment, then she was able to hear and see again.

  The tiger had vanished. Her shot had missed, some­how, but it had frightened the beast away. The leaves swayed in the jungle, testifying to his departure. She ran down the steps and flung herself down beside Stonor. He was clasping one shoulder, a red stain spreading from beneath his fingers.

  'Let me see…' she said anxiously.

  'No!' His voice bit out curtly. 'Leave it alone!'

  She felt hot colour run up under her skin, and drew back. Peter looked at her sympathetically. He lifted her, a hand under her elbow, and put an arm around her waist.

  'Look,' he said gently, 'that tiger may come back. I can't go and leave you two alone here, and I can't let you run back to the others alone, so we'll have to help this fellow back there together. If he isn't hurt badly he may be able to walk with our help.'

  Stonor ground out harshly, 'Lift me. I can walk with­out help once I'm on my feet.'

  Peter gently helped him to his feet. Stonor swayed, still holding his torn shoulder. There was blood running down his arm and along the side of his ripped shirt now.

  'Here, take my arm,' said Peter.

  Stonor drew back, frowning. 'I'm all right.' He began to walk steadily, with that upright loping pace which was so characteristic of him, and Peter, giving her a wry grimace, followed him. Marie came after them more slowly, her mind in confusion.

  What was Stonor doing here? Had he been looking for her? She looked at his straight, graceful back, the dark hair ruffled by the fight, the broad powerful shoul­ders held tensely in pain. Of course he must have been here looking for her. Hadn't she known, all the time, inwardly that he would come? When Peter arrived sud­denly unannounced, hadn't she thought it was Stonor? She had known that sooner or later Stonor would turn up.

  'What on earth were you doing strolling through the jungle in that light-hearted fashion, anyway?' Peter was asking him. 'I was staggered when I saw you. Where did you spring from?'

  'Lhalli,' Stonor said grimly.

  'What's your name? I'm Peter Davidson, by the way. I'm with the British archaeological expedition in Jedh­pur.' He looked back at Marie. 'This is Miss…'

  'I know,' Stonor interrupted in that curt fashion. Was he in much pain? Marie wondered anxiously.

  Peter looked from one to the other of them, his brows raised. 'Oh, you know each other.'

  'My name is Grey,' Stonor told him.

  'Friend of Miss Brinton?'

  'We've met,' said Stonor.

  Peter was baffled, glancing back enquiringly at her, as if to ask her what he was to make of this laconic, tight-lipped stranger. But she glanced away without revealing anything.

  'Are you an artist like Mrs Cunningham?' Peter asked, struck by a sudden thought.

  'No.'

  Peter glanced back at Marie again, then shrugged, see­ing that he would get no help from her in his inter­rogation. They came out beside the river. At their abrupt arrival a gaggle of white egrets made a hawking sound of rage and vanished from their fishing in the shallows of the waterpool below the stilt hut. A peacock stalking on the far bank rattled with irritation at them. Far along the river bank came the loud splash as a mugger slid down the mud into the water, his wicked little eyes blinking above his long snout. As if it had been some sort of signal the other muggers basking on the bank in the sun, for all the world like a row of grey-brown logs, came to life and slid down after him, making a series of splashes which awoke the monkeys in the tree tops and sent them chat­tering and swinging across the jungle.

  From the stilt hut they saw faces peering crossly at them. Then heard an exclamation of alarm. Soon Jess, Grant Williams and Jeremy had descended to them to investigate, having seen the blood on Stonor's shirt.

  A few moments later Rahaib came swinging through the jungle at an easy pace carrying a woven basket of eggs and some goat's milk in a wide-lipped jug.

  Calmly, despite Stonor's displeasure, he made him take away his hand from the mauled shoulder, frowning over what he saw. Stonor had turned so that Marie should not see his wound, but she saw Rahaib's face, and knew at once that it was far more serious than Stonor had been prepared to admit.

  Soon Stonor was in the Land-Rover being driven back to Lhalli by Rahaib. He had arrived in a small, battered Mini which, he said, he had hired in the city. Grant Wil­liams promised to drive it back to its owner for him. Jess accompanied him, and Peter drove Marie and Jeremy back to the bungalow.

  'That's the last time I go into the jungle without a gun,' Peter said grimly. He shot her a look. 'Come on, who's that fellow? A bit taciturn, isn't he?'

  'He told you his name,' Marie said evasively. Since Stonor had not given Peter any information she hesitated to do so. She might annoy Stonor if she told anyone who he was—she knew him well enough by now to know that his trip to Jedhpur was probably basically a business trip. Whatever he was planning, he obviously did not want anyone to know about it.

  'Yes, but who is he? What does he do? What on earth was he doing out in the jungle?'

  'He's in business,' she said carefully. 'I met him through my father. They… did business together.'

  'What sort of business?' Peter asked.

  'I think he's in the hotel business,' she said truthfully enough. A lie of omission was not altogether wrong, she told herself.

  'But why should he be wandering around the jungle?' Peter asked insistently.

  She hesitated. 'I expect he was looking for me. He knew I was out here, and my father probably asked him to look me up. Dad was a bit worried about me coming to such a remote spot.'

  Peter shrugged. 'I suppose that must have been it. He was pretty annoyed about the tiger, wasn't he? A grim sort of chap. I didn't take to him.'

  'He's… rather alarming,' she agreed quietly.

  Peter gave her a furtive glance. 'You… like him, do you?'

  For a moment she did not answer, then she s
aid evasively, 'He can be a bit overwhelming at times.' It seemed an enormous understatement, but it was honest as far as it went.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  NEXT morning when Jess had gone to the stilt hut to work, Marie took Jeremy into Lhalli to do some shop­ping at the market, as she had promised. Rahaib and Lispa came too, so after she had brought Jeremy the new pencils he needed and a stick of chewy liquorice toffee, Marie left him with Lispa while she walked through the market to the modern hospital which the King had built some years earlier.

  The tall Indian nurse at the reception desk in the low-ceilinged lobby smiled at her, listened to her question and pointed to a room at the far end of the corridor to the left.

  'Mr Grey is in room 12,' she said. A mischievous twinkle came into her eyes. 'Be warned, Miss Brinton, he is in a very bad mood. The nurse who took him his medicine an hour ago came out looking as if she, too, had been mauled by a tiger.'

  Marie laughed. 'As bad as that?'

  'He is most irascible man,' the receptionist said sadly. 'But men make bad patients—we all know that. They hate being in bed for hours with nothing to do.'

  'How is his shoulder?' Marie asked.

  The receptionist glanced at her carefully. 'He is as well as can be expected. He was lucky to get off so lightly. A tiger can kill quickly. He might have lost the use of his arm had he not been rescued so soon.'

  Marie walked down the corridor and tapped on the door softly. A sharp voice growled, 'What is it?'

  She pushed the door open. Stonor lay in a stark little bed, his shoulder swathed in bandages, the dark head turned to survey her.

  'Come in and shut the door,' he said after a moment, his voice expressionless.

  Marie obeyed and came towards the bed, depositing on his little bedside table the bag of fruit she had brought him. He stared at it.

  'What's this? Occupational therapy?'

  'Fruit,' she said. 'I hear you've been giving the nurses a lot of trouble.'

  His dark brows lifted ironically. 'Gossiping with the nurses, were you? Did they tell you that you saved my life?'

  She flushed. 'Nonsense.'

  'It's true,' he Said crisply. 'Another minute and I would have been a tiger's dinner.'

  'Peter would have done something,' she said.

  He laughed drily. 'Peter? That's his name, is it? A rather ineffectual young man, isn't he? He ran around the beast trying to drive it off with a stick…''

  'It was his pistol I shot at it with,' she told him.

  'Oh, you shot at it, did you?' he mocked. 'Well, I hate to tell you, in the circumstances, but you missed.'

  'It drove him off, anyway,' she said indignantly. 'You're very ungrateful.'

  'Is that what you want? Gratitude?' He lay back, watching her with amused eyes.

  She looked at him directly. 'What are you doing here, Stonor? Why did you come to Jedhpur?'

  'Why do you think?' he retorted.

  'You tell me,' she said.

  'I suppose you think I followed you out here?' he asked her softy.

  Marie felt herself going pink. 'Did you?'

  He laughed. 'As a matter of fact I'm here on business. It's a very delicate matter, and I don't want any hint of it to get out for the moment, so by all means let everyone believe I followed you here.' His eyes mocked her again. 'I don't mind being gossiped about as a lovesick suitor.'

  'Perhaps I mind being made the object of gossip,' she pointed out. 'How do I know you really are here on business? You've told me so many lies I don't know what to believe.'

  His face hardened. 'I'm not lying now. Very well, I'll tell you. I'm after the hotel concession for the new National Park. This place could be a great tourist attrac­tion if it was built up in the right way. Safari holidays are fashionable. We could make a lot of money here.'

  'So that's it,' she said, flatly.

  'That's it,' he murmured, watching her face.

  'You turn everything to your own advantage, don't you?' she accused him. 'You hadn't even thought of the idea when I told you I was coming here. You got the idea from what I told you about the place.'

  'That's right,' he agreed.

  'Have you seen the King?'

  'I can't approach him directly,' Stonor said. 'It would cause too much talk.' He looked at her sideways. 'I need a go-between.'

  'And that's why you came looking for me yesterday,' she said quietly.

  'And met a tiger,' he drawled.

  'Serves you right! I wish he'd bitten your head off!'

  He laughed. 'Temper, temper! What have I done to make you so angry?' The dark eyes taunted her.

  Marie turned away. 'You won't get much business done lying in a hospital bed, anyway.'

  'Oh, I don't know,' he drawled. 'The perfect excuse for the King to visit me… who would question a visit to a wealthy visitor badly mauled by a tiger? You only have to see the King and let him know I want to have a few quiet words with him.'

  'Just like that?'

  He grinned at her. 'Just like that, Marie.'

  'And if it's embarrassing for me to have it known that you followed me here? That doesn't matter?'

  He was silent, watching her face intently. 'Is there something I don't know? Like another man, for in­stance?'

  She looked down, biting her lip. 'It's possible, isn't it?'

  'This Peter?'

  She shrugged. 'Possibly.'

  'For God's sake, Marie,' he exploded, 'either you're involved with him or you aren't. Make yourself clear.'

  She was blazingly angry with him for using her as a shield in one of his business deals. Her pride and her feelings were both hurt. At least, she thought bitterly, she could retrieve her pride by lying to him.

  'All right,' she said stiffly, 'I don't want Peter to think I'm involved with you.'

  For a moment Stonor didn't move. Then he said grimly, 'That's a pity. Because I'm going to need your co­operation.'

  'Who do you think you are, riding roughshod over other people's lives in this way? Why on earth should I help you?'

  He made a shrugging movement and gave a stifled groan, his free hand rising to his bandaged shoulder. She was anxious, moving to help him. He waved her away with a grim face.

  Marie drew back, watching him, seeing the new white­ness in his lean face. 'Oh, very well,' she said wearily. 'I'll try to see the King.'

  'You'll need an excuse,' he said. 'You can't just walk in there and demand that he visit me.'

  'I'll be discreet,' she promised irritably.

  'What will you say?' he demanded.

  'Leave it to me,' she said, turning towards the door.

  'Thank you for the fruit,' he called as she opened it.

  She looked back angrily. Stonor grinned at her and lifted one hand in farewell, and she closed the door with a bang.

  The receptionist watched her walk back and grinned at her. 'Did he bite your head off too? You look as though you've had a bad time in there.'

  'He's impossible!' Marie said with feeling. 'I suppose being one of the richest men in the world makes him above ordinary human customs like courtesy.'

  The nurse's eyes widened. 'Is he really one of the richest men in the world?'

  'Oh, yes,' Marie said with a shrug. 'Didn't you know? He's a multi-millionaire. But he's travelling incognito.'

  'What is he doing in Jedhpur?' the nurse asked.

  Marie made a little fluttering movement with her hands. 'He came to see me,' she confessed, looking down with a little smile. Then she walked out, feeling the nurse's eyes on her back with intense curiosity.

  Having sown the first seed of her plan, she got Rahaib to drive her to the palace and asked to see the Princess Aissa. She sent in a note, reminding the Princess that she was the governess of Mrs Cunningham's little boy. Aziz's plan to bring the two of them together had not yet been fulfilled, but Marie was sure the Princess would see her.

  After a wait of half an hour, she was conducted down endless marble corridors to a beautifully furnished ro
om where she found the Princess seated on a silk-cushioned couch. Slight, graceful and dark-eyed, the Princess gave her a friendly smile, holding out her coral-tipped fingers.

  'Miss Brinton? Aziz has told me about you. I am so pleased to meet you. I would have arranged a meeting before today, but I have been away on a visit and have just returned. Please be seated. Will you take tea?'

  'Thank you,' said Marie, seating herself on a low silk-upholstered stool next to the table.

  The Princess clapped her hands, and a plump woman in blue silk hurried through the door and bowed.

  'Tea,' the Princess commanded.

  A few moments later the woman returned with the large silver tea tray. She poured tea for them both, handed a plate of tiny sweetmeats to Marie, and was then dismissed by Princess Aissa.

  'Now,' said the Princess, 'can I do something to help you?' Her dark eyes smiled. 'I suspect your visit was not entirely altruistic'

  Marie flushed. 'I would have come anyway, but it's true that I need your help. A friend of mine is in the hospital…'

  'Mr Grey,' the Princess nodded.

  Marie looked at her in surprise. 'You've heard about it?'

  'My brother had a report immediately after it happened.' The Princess smiled at her. 'Dear Miss Brinton, Lhalli is not London. Nothing happens here that is not observed. My brother likes to keep his fingers on the pulses of the country. The arrival of a very rich and famous man causes interest wherever it happens, and when he is mauled by a tiger that is serious. My brother heard about it at once.' The Princess glanced at her, her dark eyes amused. 'He also gathered that Mr Grey's visit was apparently in connection with you, Miss Brinton. Mr Grey's first action on arrival was to find out where you were living and set out for the bungalow. Then he apparently followed you into the jungle. So my brother deduced that his visit here was therefore a personal one.'

  Marie flushed and looked down. 'Yes, but…'

  'Otherwise my brother would have gone to the hos­pital himself to see if there was anything he could do,' the Princess went on, nibbling at a sweetmeat. 'How­ever, he felt he might be intruding if he went there today.'