Rachel Lindsay - Brazillian Affair

by Rachel Lindsay

  "I can be. And I live in England. We could have fun together."

  Philippa felt the breath catch in her throat. She hated quarrelling with Lucas - it was like tearing at her heart - but it was infinitely preferable to having him make these salacious remarks to her.

  "Don't talk to me like that," she choked. "I'm not one of your… I wouldn't… Oh, I hate you!"

  "Do you?" he questioned, and striding across the small space that separated them, pulled her roughly into his arms. "Aren't you looking for love, Philippa ? Aren't you hungry for romance and passion?"

  "Not with you." She struggled to free herself, but he would not let her go.

  "Why not with me?"

  Before she had a chance to answer, his mouth closed hard on hers, the pressure so intense that it forced her lips apart. A wave of heat engulfed her and she began to tremble. Many times in the last few days she had dreamed of Lucas holding her, and touching her, but never had she thought it would be with lust and fury. She wanted something different… so different.

  Tears poured from her eyes and touched his skin and he drew back slowly and searched her face, though his hands still gripped her like iron bands.

  "It's no use fighting," he said huskily. "You've been asking for this since we got here."

  Once again he kissed her, his teeth bruising her lips. Deliberately his hands moved across her back, then down to her hips and up again to touch her neck. She forced herself not to respond to him, but as his hands moved, desire took hold of her. It was as though every fibre of her wanted to be close to him. She was self-contained no longer, but an empty vessel that could only be filled by his nearness. Her arms came up and around his neck, pulling his head closer.

  At the gesture the fierceness of his hold lessened, the heavy pressure of his mouth decreased and tenderness took its place. No longer was he the master showing his control over her. Emotions he could no longer command had now taken him over, carrying him away on a flood of passion that threatened to overwhelm them both. Again and again he kissed her, as if he could never hold her near enough, and again and again she responded to him until finally she lay against his chest, too shaken to move and too exhausted to pretend.

  "Lucas," she said huskily.

  He held her away from him. His skin was shining with a faint film of perspiration and his eyes were so dark it was impossible to discern their expression. Only his voice, deep and slurred, gave indication of his feelings.

  "That's the second time you've made me lose control of myself."

  "Are you sorry ?"

  "I have to compete against men in business," he said. "But I make it a practice never to compete for a woman."

  "Then why-"

  "Because I wanted to show you how ripe you are for the plucking. Masterson, me, any other man."

  She swayed and caught at the back of a chair. "You said some pretty low things to me, Lucas, but that's the lowest!"

  "It's for your own good."

  "I'll remember that when I decide to go to bed with Roily:"

  "Philippa!"

  "Shut up," she cried. "Shut up and get out of my life!"

  CHAPTER SIX

  The next morning Philippa had to force herself to leave the sanctuary of her bedroom, and only the fear that Lucas would be forced to seek her out gave her the nerve to open her door and take the few steps that separated her from the living-room.

  There was no sign of Lucas though the door to his bedroom was open and, as she crossed to her desk and fitted her typewriter into its travelling case, she glimpsed the edge of his unmade bed and the cream silk of his pyjama jacket thrown across it.

  Though she made as little noise as possible he came out at once - almost as if he had been listening for her - and despite her resolution to keep her emotions under control, the sight of him made her tremble.

  "I want to apologise for last night," he said without preamble. His face was colourless and she knew that whatever it cost her to listen to him, it cost him even more to speak.

  "I don't want to talk about it," she said with an effort, "I want to forget it."

  "If we don't talk about it, it will make it awkward for us to work together." He hesitated, then said quickly: "I take it you do intend to go on working forme?"

  "Until we return home."

  "I see." He drew in his lower lip. "It - it wouldn't happen again. You needn't be afraid of that."

  "I'm not afraid," she said coldly. "I just don't want to go on seeing you each day."

  "If you want to go back to England right away…"

  "No, thank you. I came here to help you and I'm willing to stay."

  "I'm glad. I'd be upset if you left. And not just because you're an excellent secretary but because I - I like you."

  Colour stained her cheeks and she pretended to be busy at the desk, stacking papers that were already in order.

  "Incidentally," he went on, "I want to thank you for not locking your door."

  "I didn't think you'd go that far to show me the sort of romance I'm looking for!"

  This time he was the one to colour, and she was fascinated to see a dark tide of red wash over his face.

  "Philippa, I-"

  "We don't want to miss the plane," she interrupted. "Are you packed ?"

  "Yes. We needn't bother with a porter. I'll carry our cases myself."

  An hour later they were airborne in a jet, flying north from Rio.

  "It's pretty primitive where we're going," Lucas said as the lights flashed on for them to undo their seat belts if they so desired. "Amazon country is to be endured, not enjoyed. The Brazilians call it the Green Hell."

  "Who lives there ?" she asked.

  "Prospectors, miners, planters - rubber, cocoa and coffee - and primitive Indians, of course, though they're a dying race."

  "I've seen some horrific films about what the white man has done to them in order to give them the benefits of our so-called civilisation. It made me ashamed of being white."

  "Me too. But the country has to be opened up, you know. There are minerals there that the world is desperate to get."

  "And dams have to be built," she added dryly.

  "Don't let's quarrel…" he begged.

  "I wasn't going to. I was merely stating what you were thinking. I don't blame you for being so ambitious. After all, people like you helped to get us our Empire."

  "We don't have one now," he said humorously. "Is there a point there that I should think about?"

  She refused to be drawn and he leaned back in his seat. "There's a parcel at your feet," he said. "You might like to open it."

  Curiously she did so, amazed to see three large and expensive travel books on Brazil.

  "I remembered your bookless state when I was out shopping yesterday," he explained as she thanked him. "They should keep you occupied for the next week."

  "It was very thoughtful of you." She touched one of the lavish covers. "They're gorgeous."

  "You're easily pleased, Philippa. I've known some young women show far less enthusiasm over a present from Cartier."

  "I'm not surprised," she retorted, his comment diminishing her pleasure in his gift and making her feel naive. "This is probably one of the first presents you've given that hasn't been chosen by your secretary!"

  He adjusted his seat and quizzed her from between narrowed eyes. "You have a disconcerting talent for hitting where it hurts. It must have got you into a lot of trouble."

  She shook her head. "I've never been as outspoken to anyone as I have to you."

  "That goes for me too. I never even knew the first name of my previous secretary, and she was with me for five years."

  "You wouldn't have known mine either if we hadn't come to Brazil."

  "Yes, I would. I was thinking of you as Philippa for months." He saw her features grow rigid and said hurriedly: "I'm not going to make another pass at you. I'm just being honest."

  "Are you ever honest with women?" she asked.

  "Not usually. But you're diffe
rent."

  "You mean I'm no woman, I'm your secretary!"

  He grinned. "Something like that."

  As a remark it did nothing for her ego, but since she knew he was trying to establish a camaraderie with her in order to allay any fears she might have about him, she could not make any sarcastic comment.

  To her chagrin he began working on some papers and did not lift his head from them until they touched down at Belem three hours later.

  Before the doors were opened the heat seemed to rise up from the ground and engulf them, and the short walk from aircraft to reception bay was through a suffocating damp that made the sticky air of Rio seem almost invigorating in retrospect. In a few brief moments the crisp pique suit she had worn for the journey was reduced to limpness, and even Lucas, normally impervious to heat, mopped at his forehead with a handkerchief.

  Having made good use of Lucas's books during the flight, Philippa knew that Belem was not only the largest city in Northern Brazil but the chief harbour for the whole Amazon region, with a history going back to the beginning of the sixteenth century and a population as polyglot and tough as the Mississippi in its heyday. But to her disappointment all she saw of it was a rooftop view from the lookout cabin of the helicopter to which they transferred ten minutes after arriving at the airport.

  "We're lucky," Lucas shouted above the whirring of the propeller. "In the old days the only means of getting up-country was by boat. And the journey would have taken at least three days."

  "I was looking forward to it," she shouted back. "All those monkeys and tropical flowers and rare birds."

  "Not to mention the bugs and snakes and man- eating piranhas!"

  The city fell away behind them, and Philippa saw the whole expanse of the delta spread out beneath her like a child's jigsaw puzzle. At the mouth of the river, which was two hundred miles wide, the island of Marajo - larger than Switzerland - was set like a jewel. Then as they turned inland, she saw the network of tributaries, and beyond that nothing for mile after interminable mile but the vast, grey-green, impenetrable wall of the Amazon jungle.

  Just when it was beginning to seem as if the jungle Would go on for ever, there was a break in the dense ceiling of foliage, and then a spread of clear ground as surprising as a bare patch on a thick animal pelt. The helicopter skimmed the treetops and began its vertical descent. Gradually the features of the landscape became life-size and what had seemed to Philippa like a doll's house was revealed as a graceful, colonial-style mansion.

  The jungle had been cleared around the house and some effort made at cultivation. There was a small garden and bungalows for the servants, while to one side were stables and a large paddock where horses were being exercised.

  With a last whirl of the propeller the helicopter came to rest. Unsteadily, Philippa followed Lucas down the rope ladder to the ground. Air thick as treacle hit them in the face as they crossed the compound fronting the house, but the moment they entered it everything was cool with air-conditioning, and soft-spoken, white-clad Amerindian servants waited to take their bags and show them to their rooms.

  "I expected a primitive ranch," Philippa said. "This is more like a four-star hotel."

  "It's a private house and the owners are friends of Rodriguez. I'll tell you about it later," Lucas said, and left her outside her room.

  Philippa unpacked and showered and was trying to do something with her hair, when there was a knock on the door and a darkly handsome, middle- aged woman came in and introduced herself as Senhora Guimaraes, wife of the owner. Her English was fluent, though accented, and she had an elegance that was easier to understand when she explained she had lived her early life in America.

  "You must find it very different here," Philippa said.

  "Different but rewarding. When my husband came into his property he was not content to be an absentee landlord like so any Brazilians."

  "I never expected to see such a beautiful house in the middle of the jungle."

  "It was not as beautiful as this in the beginning." Senhora Guimaraes smiled at the memory. "Every single thing had to be brought up-river by steamer. Building materials, furniture, chandeliers - even the plumbing! But later I will show you for yourself. Lunch will soon be served."

  "I'll be ready in ten minutes," Philippa replied, and reached the patio some eight minutes later.

  Lucas was already there, immaculate in white silk shirt and brown jodhpurs. "The only way to get to the site is on horseback," he explained.

  "I didn't bring any jodhpurs at all!"

  "Can you ride?"

  "Only a donkey on the beach!"

  "Then you won't be able to come to the site. The journey's too tough."

  "I'm sure I'll be able to manage," she protested.

  "No." His tone was final. "I've enough on my mind without worrying about you taking a toss. I'll go alone and you can rest up."

  Their host and hostess joined them and lunch was served in a large, panelled dining-room. The food was simply cooked, unlike the exotic dishes Philippa had grown used in Rio: freshwater fish in place of lobster, followed by a cassoulet called fetjuada and ending with coffee and a drink called batida, a mixture of sugar-cane brandy and lemon juice.

  As soon as lunch was over, Lucas and Senhor Guimaraes left for the site and Senhora Guimaraes invited Philippa to see the house.

  Despite her efforts to appear interested, her attention soon wandered and she yawned.

  "I'm tiring you," the senhora exclaimed. "We have few visitors out here, so I always talk too much. A fellow countryman of yours stayed here last week and I nearly talked his head off."

  "An Englishman?" queried Philippa, an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  "Mr. Masterson," the woman replied. "He is also tendering for the dam. You have met, perhaps?"

  "Yes." Philippa frowned. "Was it his first visit?"

  "No, he was here some months ago. As a matter of fact, if you know him, you can do me a favour. I found an envelope with some papers in his room after he'd left. He must have dropped them when he was packing. I was going to post them to him, but as you are returning to Rio in the morning, perhaps you could take them for me. The post in this part of the country is very unreliable."

  Having seen the land they had travelled over. Philippa considered this the understatement of the year. There seemed no reason for refusing the woman's request, though she wished Roland's path would not keep crossing hers.

  In the library, Senhora Guimaraes took an envelope from the desk and handed it to her. "There, that's off my mind. Now I'll take you upstairs and leave you to enjoy a siesta."

  Alone in her room Philippa turned the envelope over in her hand. Roland's address was on the front, but it was unsealed, and for a moment she was tempted to look inside. Suppose it contained some information which could help Lucas? Her thoughts stopped abruptly She must be mad to think of prying into another person's private papers

  She thrust the envelope into her case and slammed the lid, as if to shut herself off from temptation. She undressed and climbed between the cool linen sheets. To her surprise she drifted off to sleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, and it was late evening before she awoke. Outside, the darkness was like a solid wall, and she shivered, remembering the jungle that lay all around them.

  But when she came downstairs the scene was so ordinary she had to laugh at her own fears. The drawing-room blazed with lights, well-trained servants moved unobtrusively about their duties, and Lucas, in impeccable white dinner jacket, was talking to his hostess, a tall, frosted glass in his hand. For some reason she could not understand, it annoyed her that after an afternoon trekking through jungle and marshland, in an atmosphere calculated to reduce the average man to a sticky rag, should look as though he had done nothing more strenuous than attend a board meeting.

  He rose at her entry and she was surprised by the courteous gesture which, more than anything he could have said, placed her in the position of fellow guest rather than secretary.
His first words, however, betrayed the illusion.

  "Now I've seen the site I have a completely different slant on things. As soon as dinner's over I'd like to start work with you."

  Guimaraes, coming in, overheard the remark and laughed. "All the other contractors who visited the site were glad of their beds the minute they got back. What are you, Senhor Paget, a business man or a machine?"

  "Both," Lucas smiled. "A machine by day and a man by night!"

  "A man after my own heart," the Brazilian laughed. "It is not my business to say this, but I hope you get the contract."

  "I intend to get it," Lucas said, and the determination in his voice made Philippa shiver.

  The determination was still there - filling him to the exclusion of all other emotions - when later that evening they sat together in the room Guimaraes had placed at their disposal. Ignoring all previous specifications, Lucas dictated steadily for hour after hour, his only reference some scribbled notes and intricate diagrams on a sheet of paper. Yet as the pages of her notebook filled, Philippa saw he had worked out a revolutionary method of building the dam; making full use of the natural contours of the site he had seen that afternoon.

  Midnight struck from the old French clock on the mantelpiece, but he went on talking, and it was after two before he finally threw aside his notes and yawned.

  "That's it." He gave a sigh of satisfaction. "At a rough estimate I'd say this will knock eighteen per cent off my original price. I'll be able to judge it better when you've typed out the figures."

  "I'll do it now," she said, "and you can read them over breakfast."

  He hesitated only fractionally before nodding agreement. "Under normal circumstances I wouldn't ask you to work through the night, but I want those figures urgently."

  "Will three copies be enough?"

  "Yes. And don't bother about mistakes. If necessary it can all be retyped in Rio." He moved to the door. "I'll see if any servants are still about. I'm sure you could do with some coffee."

  Fifteen minutes later he came back carrying a tray with a coffee pot and two cups. "There wasn't anyone awake, but I found the kitchen and made myself at home there."