Abruptly, Rafi halted and put a finger to his lips. He pulled Sophie behind a boulder and pointed. At first she could see nothing. Then her eye caught it; the swinging of a tail from a stunted fir tree. The more she stared, the easier it was to make out the feline shape of the leopard clinging onto a branch that overhung a patch of grass where the snow had melted. Under it grazed a stout black-haired Thar buck with thick curling horns, oblivious to the danger.
Swiftly and silently, Rafi crouched, slipped the rifle from his shoulder steadied it on the rock and took aim. For a moment Sophie thought he was going to shoot the leopard but with a practised steady squeeze on the trigger, the gun went off and the Thar buckled to its knees. In an instant, the leopard was leaping from its perch and bounding off into a cave.
‘He can help himself to the leftovers when I’ve skinned it and taken what we want,’ Rafi said cheerfully, as they hurried over to inspect the dead Thar.
With horror, Sophie watched as he drew a sharp hunting knife and cut the buck’s throat. Ruby red blood spurted out and turned the snow crimson. Methodically, Rafi began to skin the goat. Sophie’s throat watered. She turned away and scrambled behind the tree but it was too late to stop her stomach going into spasm. She was violently sick, retching again and again until all she could bring up was thin green bile.
Rafi dropped the knife and rushed over.
‘I’m sorry; I didn’t realise you were that sensitive to blood.’
‘I’m not,’ Sophie gasped, mortified that he should witness her being sick. She took the handkerchief he held out, and wiped at her mouth. She felt ghastly; hollowed out and cold but perspiring.
He rubbed her back. ‘I don’t think you’re well. You’ve been sick nearly every day for the past two weeks.’
She gave him a startled look. ‘How do you know?’
‘I notice things. I notice everything about you.’
Sophie felt the heat rise into her cheeks. He reached out and pushed a strand of hair from her mouth. She wanted to grab his hand and hold it against her burning face, to press her lips to the large palm. But she mustn’t weaken.
She turned from him. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s just the altitude.’
Abruptly, there was a loud boom from above. Sophie jumped in fright. Her first thought was gunfire. Then the rock beneath her trembled and a noise began to grow as if a train approached. Suddenly Rafi was pushing her under the tree and to the ground, flinging himself on top of her. Sophie screamed and struggled but he held on.
‘Stay still!’ he ordered.
Seconds later an avalanche of falling rocks and stones came tumbling down, pulverising the spot where they had just stood. The noise was like cannon fire. Then just as quickly as it had started, it was over. Rafi rolled off Sophie.
‘Are you okay?’ he gasped, coughing in the dust. ‘I’m sorry–’
‘Don’t be,’ Sophie said quickly. ‘I shouldn’t have screamed like a baby.’ She looked dazedly at where they had been moments before. It was piled high with loose rocks. ‘You saved my life again.’
Rafi gave her a wry smile. ‘There’s no one I’d rather rescue.’
Sophie laughed off the compliment. He was just being gallant. ‘Oh Rafi, look.’ She stared beyond him in sudden alarm. ‘The path back is blocked.’
They went to investigate. Rafi began to scramble up the rock fall but it shifted dangerously under his grip. He came back down and looked around, squinting in the direction in which the snow leopard had disappeared.
‘There’s another way onto the ridge that way,’ he pointed upwards. ‘We can work our way above the rock fall and come down the far side. That’s the way the shikari went. We’ll just have to leave the Thar behind.’ He gave a regretful glance at the half-skinned animal just beyond the fresh tumble of rocks.
The sun had already left the slope and the temperature was dropping.
‘Lead on Macduff,’ Sophie smiled, hiding her nervousness.
Rafi shouldered his pack and led the way. They made quick progress up the crag, following Thar tracks. But the air was cooling rapidly and the light vanishing. As they drew near the top of the ridge, clouds began to gather on the peaks and the wind picked up. She saw Rafi giving anxious glances at the sky as the bank of cloud built around them.
There was a rushing sound and Sophie watched in confusion as a pillar of leaves and pine needles were sucked up from below and whirled past them.
‘What’s happening?’ she panted, trying to match Rafi’s pace.
‘A storm’s on its way,’ he called. ‘We need to hurry.’
But the further up they climbed the worse it got. Soon they were surrounded in white mist. It chilled to the bone. One moment they could see magnificent iced peaks, the next nothing. Rafi seized Sophie’s hand.
‘We won’t make the top before it comes. We’ll find shelter till it blows over.’
Sophie tried to smother panic. ‘But there isn’t anywhere.’
‘If we drop down a little – we passed a cave.’
She gripped onto Rafi, as he inched their way down the crag. One wrong step and they would be falling off the mountain to certain death. Sophie stifled a sob. Amid the feeling of utter panic, she had a moment of clarity; she didn’t want to die. She wanted to live and love and see the baby inside her born, no matter how abhorrent its conception. It was her baby and that’s all that mattered. She clung to Rafi, her lifeline.
Just as the first heavy drops of rain began to hit them, Rafi saw the mouth of a low cave rear out of the mist. He pushed Sophie under the rocky shelter with his pack and rifle.
‘Stay here, I’ll be back in a minute.’
‘No! Don’t leave me,’ she begged.
But he was gone, swallowed up in the mist again. Sophie didn’t want to shuffle in any further in case Rafi should miss the opening. She squatted down and sang ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary’ at the top of her voice, to keep up her spirits and to guide Rafi back through the rain.
It seemed an age but was probably minutes before he reappeared out of the swirling cloud. He was soaking but clutching an armful of juniper branches. He fell to his knees laughing and panting.
‘I don’t know how you find anything to laugh about,’ Sophie cried, nearly throwing herself at him in relief.
‘You singing that song,’ Rafi chuckled. ‘Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d hear that being sung so lustily from a Himalayan cave!’
Sophie sank down beside him and dissolved into laughter too.
They made a nest of juniper branches under the overhang, pressing as far back into the shallow cave as they could, while the storm broke around them. From his pack, Rafi produced toffees.
‘Real Scots toffee,’ Sophie exclaimed. ‘Where did you get this?’
‘McGinty’s mother sends them to me,’ he grinned, ‘she knows my sweet tooth.’
They sucked on the sticky sweets and Sophie had a pang of longing for Edinburgh and Auntie Amy. Rafi seemed to understand, for he began reminiscing about his days in Scotland as torrents of rain raged down the mountain slopes; thunder deafened like a hundred ton gun and lightning flared in blinding flashes.
Soon the rain turned to hail – huge balls of ice that bounced on the rock – and then snow. Sophie sat with her shoulder pressed against Rafi’s damp one for comfort, watching in awe as the storm raged just feet from their sanctuary, blinding and deafening, as if it would cleave the very mountain in two and hurl them into the chasm.
It went on for hours.
‘Tam will be so worried,’ Sophie fretted. ‘He might think we’re dead. No one caught out on the mountain could survive in this.’
‘He’ll know we’d look for shelter,’ Rafi tried to calm her. ‘And that I’d take care of you.’
‘What if they got caught in this?’ Sophie cried.
‘They won’t have. The shikari will have led them to safety long ago. They’ll be back at camp. We would have been there too if it hadn’t been for that fall of
rock.’
Eventually Sophie succumbed to exhaustion. She curled up wrapped in Rafi’s blanket, comforted by the fragrant smell of juniper.
The silence woke her. The storm had passed on. There were distant fitful rumblings as it died away. In alarm, she felt a gap where Rafi had been. She was alone in the darkness.
Chapter 33
‘Rafi?’ she called out. ‘Rafi!’
He answered from beyond the cave. ‘Sophie, come and have a look.’ She could hear the wonder in his voice.
Keeping the thick wool blanket about her shoulders, she crawled out. Clear cold air hit her face. The sky was crowded with brilliant stars and a crescent moon shone over white summits and fields of snow. Far below was darkness – outlines of forests and crags – and a faint murmur of the distant river in the stillness.
‘Have you ever seen anything so magnificent?’ Rafi marvelled.
‘It’s like a fairy-tale land,’ Sophie whispered.
They stood spellbound in a glittering silver world, listening to the occasional rumble and crash of glaciers moving. After a while, Rafi collected up some of the juniper branches and lit a fire in the cave mouth. Melting some snow in his camping kettle, he brewed tea and they shared the same wooden cup.
‘How were you so prepared?’ Sophie asked, amazed.
‘Old Lahore Horse, remember?’ he grinned. ‘Trained to survive anywhere.’
In the frosty night, huddled close to the small fire, they found themselves talking of many things; their differing Indian childhoods, their shared love of the outdoors, of poetry, music and fishing.
‘Where,’ Rafi asked in amusement, ‘did the young Miss Logan learn to fish?’
‘Great Uncle Daniel in Perth taught me,’ she laughed. ‘I’m good with a rod and I don’t mind gutting fish either. Not like Tilly who used to pretend she had a headache and run off with a book.’
‘Well when the snow melts and we get out of here,’ Rafi said, ‘we’ll go fishing for mahseer. Boz says we foresters have an open invitation from Wesley Robson to go to the Khassia hills for some sport. Best fishing in the land, according to Robson. You could visit your friend Clarrie and combine it with a trip to see Cousin Tilly.’
She let him daydream and make impossible plans as if both of them were free from all ties and obligations to anyone else. Under the magical stars anything seemed possible. A couple of days ago, Tam had announced that Rafi was betrothed to a Lahori banker’s daughter, making a fuss of him in front of the others. Rafi had been embarrassed and Sophie had slipped off so that no one would see how upset she was at the news. But that night, they mentioned neither his forthcoming marriage nor Tam.
Eventually, they lay down to sleep, though Sophie never wanted the night to end.
‘You keep the blanket,’ Rafi said, burrowing down in the juniper branches.
‘We can share it,’ Sophie said, glad that the dark hid her blushing. She opened it out and threw an end over him.
She lay with her back to him. He snuggled closer but didn’t touch. Her heart banged in her chest. How she wanted him! Sometime later, she asked quietly, ‘Rafi, are you awake?’
‘Yes.’
Sophie swallowed. ‘Will you hold me please?’
There was silence. She cursed herself for embarrassing him. What would he think of her? ‘It’s just I’m cold.’ She tried to make light of it. ‘I don’t expect anything more – I just want your warmth.’
Then a strong arm came around her waist and Rafi pressed himself up against her back. Sophie held onto his hand.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
She could feel his breath on her hair and the strong fast beat of his heart. She knew then that if she just said the word, Rafi would make love to her. She could feel the tension in him, the desire in the way he held her, breathed in her scent and sighed her name. Sophie was sick with yearning too. But she had already made a mess of her marriage to Tam – Bracknall had seen to that – and to be unfaithful with Rafi would be the finish of it. Neither would she ruin Rafi’s future life with his soon-to-be wife. She suspected his sense of honour to his friend Tam would hold him back anyway. There would never be a future for them together, so giving themselves to each other now would only be destructive.
They fell asleep in each other’s arms.
***
Sophie woke to find Rafi gone. She sat up in alarm. The space behind her was cold, the glow of the fire almost out. Outside was daylight; pink light making the snow look like cake icing.
Then she spotted Rafi trudging back up the frosty slope with pine branches and tree roots. His breath billowed in clouds at his exertion. He saw her and gave his broad smile, his green eyes shining. Sophie’s heart sang. She would give anything for that to be the face she woke up to every morning. She had a sharp stab of envy for this Sultana Sarfraz chosen to marry him.
‘I’ve been back to the dead carcass,’ he panted. ‘No sign of the leopard. Do you like kidneys?’
‘Normally I love them,’ Sophie said. ‘But I’ve gone off meat lately.’
‘They will taste delicious cooked over a scented pine fire and eaten in the open, believe me.’
He set about stoking up the fire, balancing the kettle on a couple of stones and roasting the kidneys on a stick. The smell of cooking meat made her feel sick but Rafi encouraged her to eat and Sophie found herself enjoying the taste after all. They sat cross-legged and drank tea, toasted old chapatti and chewed more toffee.
‘I think it’ll be safe to go back the way we came,’ Rafi said. ‘Looks like the fresh fall of snow has created a bridge over the rockfall – frozen it solid. But we’ll have to get going before the sun heats up. There’ll be a risk of avalanches later.’
‘Part of me,’ Sophie dared to admit, ‘wishes we could stay here for ever.’
Rafi fixed her with his green eyes. ‘Those are dangerous thoughts.’
‘I know,’ Sophie held his look. ‘We could hunt and fish and travel the Himalayas on Tibetan ponies.’ She spoke flippantly, though really she meant it.
Suddenly she dreaded going back to her old life; Tam’s moods and fevers, biting her tongue in Bracknall’s presence, a life of social etiquette in Lahore’s clubs and sitting-rooms. How could she bear it?
‘You could do all that with Tam,’ Rafi said quietly.
Sophie shook her head. ‘I thought that was the life we would lead when I came out to India – to be trekking and exploring – but that’s not what Tam wants from me.’
‘Which is?’
‘A hostess and tennis partner – someone to help him climb the ladder. His career is his passion – you know what he’s like – he lives and breathes forestry.’ Sophie sighed. ‘I feel disloyal talking about him behind his back but he doesn’t love me. I sometimes feel as if he resents me for agreeing to marry him.’
‘I’m sure Tam loves you,’ Rafi said.
‘I think he tries, but deep down he can’t. Boz tried to warn me – in Bombay – he told me about Tam’s war injuries and how that had changed him. But I wouldn’t listen.’
Rafi snorted. ‘Boz was just trying to put you off because he was in love with you.’
‘No,’ Sophie blushed, ‘he was trying to tell me something. Now I think it was that Tam didn’t really want to marry me but didn’t know how to get out of it.’
Rafi leaned over and took her hand in his. ‘I think you are worrying unnecessarily. Tam is not an easy man to live with but I don’t doubt that he cares for you. He talked about nothing else when we were out here before you came. Tam’s a good man.’
‘Oh, Rafi,’ she whispered, tears prickling the back of her throat. ‘You are such a good friend. Tam hasn’t always treated you well these past months, yet you’ll say nothing against him.’
Rafi withdrew his hand. ‘It’s British society out here that won’t accept our friendship in the way it did in Edinburgh. Tam can’t be blamed for the imperialist mentality that we have to work under. But things are changing.’
‘Not fast enough for me,’ Sophie said. ‘I hate it that you can’t socialise with us – can’t dance or dine in most of the clubs – that Bracknall snubs you at every opportunity.’
‘Bracknall,’ Rafi sneered, ‘I’m happy not to be invited to his tedious dinners.’
‘But he has power over you and your job – has power over all of us,’ she added bitterly.
‘Has Bracknall done something to you?’ Rafi demanded.
Sophie looked away. ‘I just loathe the man.’
Abruptly Rafi stood up and held out his hand. ‘He can’t stop us dancing in the Himalayas. Would you do me the pleasure of this dance, Mrs Telfer?’ He started whistling a waltz.
Sophie got up laughing. ‘Of course I would.’
On the frosty slope in the early sunshine, they shuffled around humming and grinning. Slowly they came to a standstill, their arms still around each other, gazing into the other’s eyes. Sophie leaned up and brushed his lips with a kiss.
‘I’ve wanted to do that for so long.’
His look was suddenly fierce; he dropped his hold and pushed her gently away.
‘I’m sorry,’ she gulped, ‘I thought you felt the same.’
‘My God, woman,’ he hissed, ‘you have no idea how much I want you. But up till now, we’ve done nothing to be ashamed of. I can look Telfer in the eye and tell him that nothing improper has happened between us.’
‘It doesn’t feel like that to me,’ Sophie retorted. ‘For me, everything changed last night. Standing under the stars with you–’
‘Don’t say it!’ Rafi cried. ‘Don’t say anything more.’
He turned from her and began kicking out the fire. She watched him in distress as he packed his knapsack and rolled up the blanket they had shared. How could he say that nothing had happened? They might have just managed to keep their desire in check physically, but in her mind she had given herself willingly to Rafi a hundred times.
They did not speak again as they descended, Sophie placing her footsteps in the tracks that Rafi left in the virgin snow. The sound of ice cracking and snow melting made them hurry on past the remains of the dead buck that the leopard had recently dragged under its tree. As Rafi predicted, the snow had compacted into a bridge over the rock-strewn ravine that had been impassable the day before. It was a difficult scramble but they made it across.
THE PLANTER'S BRIDE: A story of intrigue and passion: sequel to THE TEA PLANTER'S DAUGHTER (India Tea Series Book 2) Page 30
