by Anne Weale
This was too much. Indignation stifled fear and in one short pithy sentence Alex told him exactly what she thought of him. He hesitated, glowering at her uncertainly. Then an impatient shout from his confederates urged him to action. With a savage expletive he swung up his rifle butt and struck at her head. The last sound she heard was an anguished cry from Rama.
Somewhere high above her a bright light was shining. Wonderingly she opened her eyes. The world tilted at a crazy angle. She was excruciatingly sick.
As the nausea receded the blur of color swimming before her eyes began to resolve into patterns until the last mists dissolved and she saw that she was lying under a tree with a dozen anxious Asian faces peering down at her.
“Bad men all gone, mem!” Rama, dear Rama, bent over her reassuringly.
There was a strange acrid smell in the air. Struggling into a sitting position Alex saw that all that was left of the bus was a blackened smoldering framework. She looked quickly at her left hand. Her wedding ring had gone.
“Tid’apa, mem. Never mind. Tuan not angry,” Rama whispered.
Alex grinned faintly. The people were obviously waiting for her to take the lead, so, wincing, she clutched the amah’s shoulder and struggled to her feet, swaying dizzily. Then, just as she was trying to think what they had better do, a jeep purred around the corner and three startled Malay policemen appeared on the scene.
Within half an hour Alex was sitting in the police station, drinking hot sweet tea and recounting in as much detail as she could remember all that had happened.
The English lieutenant in charge of the station was a kindly young man with a ruddy perspiring face.
“Your husband should be here to take you home in a few minutes, Mrs. Fraser,” he said when she had finished her account. “Now how about another cup of tea and a cigarette? You want to take it easy, you know, after that crack on the head. I think it might be a good plan to let a doctor have a look at that bump.”
He was interrupted by the roar of a jeep in the roadway and seconds later Jonathan burst into the room.
“Where is...” He stopped short at the sight of Alex.
“Excuse me, I must have a word with one of my men.” The lieutenant discreetly disappeared.
“Alex! My darling child! Are you all right? My God, if those swine ...” Jonathan was on his knees beside her, his face contracted with strain. And then, before she could answer him coherently, his arms were around her and he was kissing her with almost feverish intensity, murmuring endearments.
“Are you angry, Jonathan?” It was some moments before he let her free to speak.
“Angry?” The question seemed to bewilder him. “Do you know this last hour has been the closest thing to hell ... When they called up and said ... Alex, sweetheart, look at me! Are you really all right?”
He touched the ugly bruise on her head with tender fingers, and then, holding her face between his hands, he said in a low voice, “If anything had happened to you it would have been the end for me, too, do you know that? You’ve changed my whole life. I couldn’t live without you now, my love.”
It was not until after supper, which she ate lying on the couch with a mountain of cushions behind her and Jonathan waiting on her as if she were some rare and fragile porcelain creature, that she remembered the loss of her rings.
“Don’t cry, my darling,” he said softly, cradling her against his shoulder. “If they had taken a fortune from you it wouldn’t be half as important as having you safely back with me.”
“But why? Why didn’t you tell me before?” she asked.
His arms tightened around her. “Because I was a fool. I got it stuck in my head that you were in love with Blake. My God, when I saw him kissing you I could have murdered him. And then you cried and I thought it was because he had come too late.”
“But I never even thought of Carey in that way. It was you, always you, Jonathan. Why, the only reason I wanted to go to Penang was because I was jealous of Joanna Oliver.”
“That little vamp! You thought ...” The end of his sentence was smothered as his lips found her mouth.
“That statue Blake gave you,” he said presently. “We’ll have it on the bookcase—to remind me how I nearly lost you. When I think what might have happened this afternoon ...”
Against her palm she felt the quickening beat of his heart and a surge of happy triumph welled in her, the incomparable joy of loving and being loved.
“Kiss me, Alex.” His voice was husky.
“What a fool I’ve been,” she said presently. “But you always seemed so aloof ... as if you despised me.”
“Aloof! Great heaven, if you knew what a hold I had to keep on myself not to make love to you months ago! It was intolerable having to play the stern guardian when every time you smiled at me I wanted to crush you in my arms and never let you go.”
“When did you begin to like me?” she asked, her face hidden against him.
“The first time I saw you at the airport. I tried to convince myself that it was just because I hadn’t seen an English girl for so long, but every day the feeling grew stronger. I was even jealous of young Tom Major because he could make you laugh. Then that night at Penang when I lost my head and kissed you I knew you were the only woman I would ever want. You’re so lovely, Alex ... cool and fresh ... like a frangipani petal.”
“Even with a lump on my head?”
He silenced her laughter with his lips in a kiss that left her trembling and starry-eyed.
“There are so many things I want to explain—to say I’m sorry for, Jonathan.”
“Not now,” he said softly. “We have the rest of our lives to explain everything. Tonight I want to hold you like this and know that you’re really mine, beloved, that nothing can ever come between us again.”
Mat, coming up from the cookhouse to clear away supper, paused on the threshold, grinned sympathetically and decided that the dishes could wait for a while.