by Kay Thorpe
coming resistance by drowning out rational thought, wakening sensation in a way she had never experienced before.
Response flooded through her without volition, her every fibre springing alive to the contact. At some point he must have released his grip on her wrists, for suddenly her hands were free and sliding over the broad shoulders, feeling the hardness of muscle beneath her fingers, the smooth warmth of his skin. The sheet was slipping and she hardly cared. She didn't want to stop, didn't want to think.
Sanity caught up with her abruptly, turning response to rejection on a wave of self-disgust which clenched her hands into fists and thudded them fiercely against his chest as she twisted away from him.
`No ! Leave me alone ! I don't want you, Greg ! I don't want you!'
`Like hell you don't !' He was tight-lipped and frightening, holding her still again by sheer force of muscle. 'What do you think I'm made of, you damned little hellcat? Do you want to get hurt?'
She went limp suddenly, her eyes dark and slightly dilated, mouth held in rigid control. 'Is that in your book too?' she got out. 'What you can't have by persuasion you take ! Well, go ahead if that's all you're capable of. I won't even try to stop you. It's probably the only way you know !'
For a moment she thought her tactics had failed as his eyes blazed. Instinctively she shrank back into the pillows, heart thudding in painful anticipation of his next move. Then his expression was changing, his mouth pulling into that hateful smile, his hands relaxing the hardness of their grasp.
`Desperate measures,' he said. 'And they very nearly got you exactly what you're trying to avoid. I wouldn't advise you to rely on that line. Next time it might not work.'
Keely swallowed on dryness as he sat upright. 'Greg
`Shut up.' His voice was barely raised, but the tone was
cautionary in itself. 'You're already pressing your luck. If I'd realised this morning just how immature you were ...'
`Does what you're talking about have anything to do with maturity?' She was quiet herself but not about to let that pass without comment. 'It takes a cynic like you to see sex as so totally separated from emotion !' She met his newly narrowing regard and defiantly held it. 'Yes, I heard what you said, and I won't shut up. Just because you see women only as something to be used it doesn't necessarily follow that you're right. Perhaps you never met up with the right kind, that's all.'
His expression was sardonic. 'Meaning your kind, I imagine. Maybe it's as well. So far I've found the experience anything but useful. And don't try making out that you can't be roused by a man you've no deeper feelings for because I know different. You hate 'my guts, but it didn't stop you turning on for me a few minutes ago.' He laughed harshly at the look which passed across her face. 'Sure, only a louse like me would remind you. But then maybe it's only a louse like me who can draw that much out of you! If two people have inhibitions you're not going to get very far.' He was leaning against the bedrail now, studying her, one knee bent up in front of him. 'Just how many men have you known to date, kiddy? Or let's rephrase that. How many men have you been acquainted with?'
`Enough to be able to say there's a great difference between the way civilised people go about things and the way you did,' she responded tautly. She had lifted herself to a sitting position against the pillow, , the blanket affording some security if a fairly spurious one. 'I suppose it all depends on what they feel they have to prove.'
`And what,' he asked softly, 'am I supposed to be trying to prove?'
`I'm not sure.' Heart and pulse were racing, yet she couldn't resist the urge to continue this risky conversation. It was a deliberate dicing with danger, like standing in front of a fast approaching train to see how close one dare let it come before jumping clear. She could remember doing that once as a child along with some others, recall the stern face of the policeman who had caught them at it. The shock of that confrontation and the subsequent visit to the local station along with her father had shorn her of all desire to repeat the experience until now. Only this was no stern but kindly policeman lounging opposite; this was a man who had already shown her just how ruthless he could be when it came to retaliation. Not that it seemed to be making any difference. She looked back at him without flinching. 'Your virility, perhaps.'
His laugh was totally unexpected. 'Quite the little psychoanalyst, aren't you! You should try it on yourself some time. You might even get around to straightening out some of your own kinks. Let me know when you do and we'll get together again. You should really be something once you've learned to let yourself go !'
He came abruptly to his feet, reaching for his shirt and hooking over his shoes. At the door he paused to look back, eyes sliding over the length of her with an over-played regret. `Pity it has to end like this, but I guess there's time yet. See you in the morning ... unless you'd rather stay on here with Paul till we get back?'
`I'm coming with you.' She was subdued but determined. `You're not going to put me off, Greg, so you may as well stop trying.'
`Who wants to put you off ?' He said it softly. `There's a full-blooded woman somewhere down there inside that schoolgirl morality of yours. It's going to be interesting to see how long she can hold out.'
Keely had doubts herself, but she refused to consider them now. Greg could stir her, there was no denying it, only to do so he had to come within touching distance—and that
she could do something about. If only the memory of those moments she had spent in his arms would go away, she thought on an edge of desperation as the door closed behind him. Acknowledging one's weaknesses was only part way towards overcoming them.
The rain stopped some time before first light, leaving the forest dripping and swathed in mist. Paul came down to the river to see them off, viewing the swirling grey water with an experienced eye.
`It's risen over a foot since last night,' he observed on a casual note. 'Watch out for floating trees. We always get some washed down round this time. They can put a hole through your hull before you know where you are.' His glance met Keely's and took on a certain new appraisal. `Sure this trip isn't going to prove too much for you? You're more than welcome to stay on. They have to come back this way.'
`Thanks.' She didn't look in Greg's direction at all. 'It's important that I see the whole thing through. My magazine likes a first-hand account of any story.'
`Well, I'd let no woman of mine go up there, but I guess you're your own boss.' His voice was light, his glance towards Greg only faintly malicious. 'Good luck on all counts.'
`If you'd get the hell off the deck we could get started,' growled the other. 'Thanks for the hospitality.'
`Any time. See you on the way back.' Paul went ashore grinning, standing on the narrow stage to watch them pull out and head for the main channel, a tall enigmatic figure swiftly fading astern in the dirty grey light.
Chilled despite the sweater she was wearing, Keely went below to make coffee. Jason followed her down.
`Sleep well?' he asked from the foot of the companionway. 'It was a pretty rough night.'
Just how rough he would never know. Keely pushed back her hair and smiled at him with forced cheerfulness. 'An odd household, isn't it? Do you think Paul sleeps with both those women?'
`I don't know.' He sounded faintly shocked. 'I suppose in his position he can do anything he pleases. The tropics seem to undermine civilised ways.'
`Is it the climate,' she murmured thoughtfully, 'or just the kind of people who choose to live in it? Perhaps they're all basically throwbacks to an earlier age.'
`I don't know,' Jason said again. He looked at her with sudden suspicion. 'Are you putting me on?'
She laughed. `No. Just pondering out loud. It's all a part of the contrast I'm supposed to be portraying. I want to understand it, that's all. Do you prefer coffee or cocoa?'
`Cocoa for me. Mark will have coffee. Greg ... I'm not sure. Want me to ask him?'
`I'll make it coffee. If he wants to change it, he'll no doubt complain.'
<
br /> `At least he seems to have settled down to the idea of you being with us,' Jason remarked, leaning against the bulkhead to watch her busy herself with water and dried milk. `He was quite affable last night.'
`Oh, quite.' Keely heard the irony in her voice and shook herself. There was no need to let Jason know anything was wrong. What had happened last night was between her and Greg and no one else. Only if things got right out of hand would she consider asking for help, and then it would be to Sir Mark she turned, not his nephew. There was a faint chance Greg might take some heed of anything the older man had to say to him. At least he had given way to him over the matter of continuing the journey yesterday. It was something to cling to, a straw in the wind. She could cope with any kind of vituperation Greg chose to mete out providing he kept his distance, but he had more or less stated
-
that he wouldn't be content to do that. No woman was safe where a man like that was concerned. She might have saved herself last night; next time wouldn't be so easy.
`When can we expect to reach the Canidas?' she asked without haste, feeling Jason's eyes on her bent head.
`Late afternoon tomorrow,' he said. 'We'll have to spend tonight tied up to the bank, although we'll probably be able to light a fire on shore if we find a suitable clearing along the water's edge.'
But we'll be sleeping on board?'
`I imagine so. Drier, for one thing. Another rain storm like last night's and we'd be washed out.'
Keely wished he would stop talking about last night. She wanted to forget about it—or was it closer to the truth to say she didn't care to remember? 'According to Paul we're going to run into fairly frequent storms,' she said. 'It's the time of year for them.'
The hatch cover went back and a pair of legs appeared on the companionway. Greg looked down at the two of them with satire. 'Mark needs you up here,' he said to Jason. `There'll be time for chatting later.' To Keely he added brusquely, 'Watch that gas ! You've got the flame too low. If it blows out and you don't notice it we're in trouble!'
`She's new to this,' Jason protested. 'You don't have to snap her head off !'
`I'll be the judge of that.' There was hardness in the retort. 'Are you coming up?'
Jason went with a wry grimace in Keely's direction. She stiffened when Greg descended the whole way into the cabin, concentrating the whole of her attention on the job in hand in determined rejection of any power he possessed to disturb her.
`Let's get one thing straight from the start,' he said on a clipped note. 'You're not going to find any help in that direction, so don't encourage it. I've enough on my plate
without needing to knock sense into the two of you.'
`Meaning the passengers mustn't encroach on the Skipper's reserves,' she retorted with sarcasm. 'You want to remember it's three to one against your kind of feudalism now that we've left your friend behind !'
`Even numbers if you count my crew.' His voice was deceptively quiet. 'And I'm telling you for the last time : stow the backchat. Paul had the right idea. I should have dropped you off there.'
`Except that I'm not your woman,' she was moved to respond recklessly. 'Even Paul conceded that point.'
`He was getting at me for letting you get away with that crack you made at supper last night. So far as he knows, we spent the whole night together.' The pause held deliberation. 'He was pretty well taken with you himself, come to that. A red-headed fireball, was how he put it. Not often he gets to see a white woman this far up river.'
`Obviously.' The words came short and sharp. 'I suppose that's why he keeps Mari and Jassy tied up there like a couple of slaves. If ...'
She got no further because he was right behind her, whipping her round with a hand like iron to face him, his eyes blazing the way they had done the last time she had angered him almost beyond endurance. 'I ought to make you grovel for that ! Jassy is Mari's mother; the two of them have lived with Paul since he found them both destitute in Manaus. He might not be able to show you any bit of paper, civilised fashion, but Mari's no less his wife for all that ... and she'll still be his wife when he dies. He's left everything to her. Understand?'
`Yes.' She was flushed and ashamed. 'I'm sorry.'
`So you damn well should be ! Next time make sure of
your facts before you start laying accusations. There's too
many people ready to take things at face value.'
There was something in that latter statement which
brought her head up a little, some faint element of bitterness totally alien to her- erstwhile impression of him. 'Is that what happened to you?' she asked before she could stop herself, and saw his face change, closing up against her.
`I'm exactly what I appear to be,' he said hardily. 'And that means you'd better watch yourself. You've enough illusions to lose without risking any more.' He let go of her, nodding towards the boiling kettle of water. 'Bring that up top when it's ready. You may as well get a good look of the scenery in passing. You might not be in any mood for sightseeing when we come down again.'
Keely could well imagine. Getting through the next two weeks was going to plumb deeper resources than she might even possess. And yet for a brief moment there she thought she had caught a glimpse of a different Greg Stirling. Mightn't those same resources be brought to bear upon finding out just what did lay beneath that case-hardened exterior? It was a daunting thought, but infinitely better than accepting defeat at his hands. A weapon to use against him.
CHAPTER FIVE
STORM clouds began to build up in the sky towards noon, bringing an odd purple light to a landscape already sombre and forbidding. The river had narrowed to a point where the walls of green vegetation were only a long stone's throw away to either hand, the water flooding inwards to a depth of ten or fifteen feet where the banks were low. Lianas wound themselves like boa-constrictors about the tree trunks, arching across in loops to join up with others in a never-ceasing quest to reach the sunlight. Leaves drooped in the midday heat, and animal cries were stilled. There was a sense of waiting, as if the world held its breath against what was to come.
Keely had used up almost the whole of one spool during the morning alone, and knew she would have to ration herself from now on to only the more important shots. Impressions of this jungle fastness went down in her notebook along with previous jottings, ready to be sorted and moulded into presentable form when she found both time and opportunity. For now she was content to imbibe atmosphere, sitting in the shade of the awning now rigged up on the after-deck with Jason quietly fishing at her side.
`I've a feeling our main diet might get a bit monotonous before we're through with this trip,' he said after pulling out one large specimen for all the world like an oversized goldfish. 'There's our supper tonight. Tomorrow ... who knows? Do you know there are over fifteen hundred different species of fish in the Amazon river system?'
`Well, at least we might manage a different kind every night,' Keely responded. 'The way they take the bait you could just keep throwing them back till the right kind pops up !'
`Easy to see you've done no serious fishing,' commented Sir Mark humorously, coming up behind them. 'There's no sport attached to this kind. How are you coping with this heat? It's already wearing me down.'
`'Perhaps the storm will cool things.' Keely looked up at the steadily darkening sky. 'How long before it breaks, would you say?'
`Greg gives it another half an hour. He's not often wrong. We'll put in to the bank and get under the trees when the rain comes or we'll be swamped. It's going to be a bad one, I'm afraid. Do the elements make you nervous at all?'
`Not so far. We had one fairly bad storm on the way up river to Manaus. It was very spectacular.' She smiled at him. 'I shan't start screaming and covering my ears when the thunder comes, I promise.'
`I'm glad to hear it.' His eyes were twinkling. 'You're made of sterner stuff than most. Greg suggested you go below while it lasts.'
`Suggested?' she asked softly. 'Or
ordered?'
He studied her a moment with an odd expression. 'Does it matter if it's for your own good? We'll all probably join you once we're safely tied. up. It won't last long. They never do. At the most we should only lose an hour or so.'
Greg was at the helm, his back towards them, head turned to scan the left bank through the side screen. He couldn't possibly hear the conversation from that distance, and yet she had the feeling that he knew exactly what was being said. His feet were planted slightly apart, legs braced to the movement of the deck beneath him, the belt at his waist emphasising the tapering line from shoulder to hip. There was a look about him of strength, of immobility, of implacable control. In his hands no craft would dare to
deviate from course; Keely wondered that she dared herself.
Thunder shattered the heavens like the clap of doom, shaking the tree branches and sending a small colony of monkeys chattering madly from their riverside perches into the leafy depths above and behind. Lightning followed almost immediately, twin shafts slashing diagonally down the lowering sky to bathe the world in electric blue. The sudden gust of wind was hot and humid, lifting the awning and lashing it back against the supports until the two cabaclos appeared from up forward to unfasten the ties and stow the whole sheet safely on the deck.
Greg had brought the wheel over and was angling in towards the left bank, heading, it seemed at first glance, directly for an impenetrable wall of trees. Then they opened up, and the boat was passing between and under into a gloomy backwater where mangrove roots looped and twisted grotesquely from the still dark depths. Little sunlight could ever have penetrated the canopy of foliage above. It was like being in a cave, except that no rock could hold this kind of heat, its weight almost tangible when the boat finally came to rest.
`This should bear the brunt of it when it starts,' Greg said, moving aft to throw a line about one of the mangrove roots. But it's still going to be wet enough.'
`It turned out to be a short half hour,' Keely couldn't resist murmuring, and felt his glance swing to her.