"I thought you had a taste of gentlemanly behaviour a few hours ago, when not one of that sort would offer you his seat on that plane, which by now is safely landed while we're standing here steaming in this heat."
Eve flushed again, and hated him for his knack of striking clean to the bone and exposing the painful truth. "The impulse to survive does away with politeness, I suppose," she said.
"Now you're learning, foxfire," he mocked.
"Foxfire?" Her eyes ran enquiringly over his hard face.
"Didn't your elegant young man ever tell you that your hair matches the coat of the vixen as she streaks across the turf pursued by the hounds and the gallant huntsmen?"
James . . . tell her that? Eve doubted if he'd ever noticed anything about her beyond that she dressed, spoke and behaved correctly, and would in due course inherit some sizeable stocks and shares.
"If your nerves have quite settled," Wade drawled, "we'll be falling in line again and might make another mile or so before you wilt and have to be fed."
"I'm not an infant, Major O'Mara. I'll keep up with [28-29] you, don't worry about that. I'm just as eager as you are to reach civilisation."
"Right. And the next time a bird's egg falls on you, don't scream the forest down."
"Did I upset your nerves?" she asked tartly.
"My nerves are iron, lady, but you could have been heard and the female scream can't be mistaken for anything but what it is, probably one of the most primitive sounds on earth."
This time Eve thought it wise to let him have the final word, and taking hold of her bamboo stick and her bits and pieces wrapped in the plaid robe, she fell in behind him and they continued on their way . . . into the very heart of the jungle, or so it seemed.
It was, Eve reflected, like being a pickle in a salad; the vegetation was all shades of green, except when a sudden bract of bougainvillea sprang vividly to life against the foliage, or a great stem of wild orchids burst forth from the trunk of a towering tree. The leaves of the plantain were enormous and could have served as umbrellas should it suddenly start to rain. Branches twisted together in the most erotic shapes, like dark limbs entwined in eternal passion, sometimes modestly veiled by drapes of lacy green fern.
Every now and again a bird would flutter down on large wings and startle Eve, or a parakeet would let out a raucous squawking sound, as if scolding the two human beings for being in a place meant for more primitive creatures.
The Major waded on through the moist, riotous, earthy-scented jungle with all the aplomb of a man taking a hike through Epping Forest with the prospect of a long cool beer awaiting him at the Rising Sun. Hack, hack, went his sharp-bladed panga, shearing [29-30] through the thick stems and tangles of vine, lopping off the great leaves across their path, and tramping down with his boots the thorny growth that could have torn Eve's ankles.
Occasionally he shot a look at her, or flung a question over his khaki-clad shoulder. "How're you coping, lady?"
"I'm having a picnic," she rejoined. "I'm wondering how anyone could join a jungle army to endure this . . . whoever uses your services must pay well."
"They pay sufficiently," he said. "Enough to put my kid through college."
"Y-you have a family?" His casual reference to a child almost sent Eve sprawling into a patch of spiky bamboo, which she avoided just in time.
"A son." He whacked away with his panga at a whip-like branch.
"Aren't you worried that you'll be killed?" she asked that broad back, with the dark patch of sweat between the shoulder-blades. "That wouldn't do him much good, would it?"
"It's the worriers who get the bullet, so I steer clear of worrying."
"What about your wife?" Eve swallowed drily. "Surely she doesn't approve of the way you earn your living."
"She was never the worrying sort," he rejoined. "Larry, the boy, is keen to be a doctor, and I intend to see to it that he gets what he wants."
"How old is he?"
She heard Wade O'Mara emit a sardonic laugh. "Nineteen, which makes him only a year younger than you, eh?"
"Yes," she admitted, and her eyes swept the lean, [30-31] lithe, and forceful figure in front of her and she decided that Major O'Mara was in very good shape for a man with a grown-up son. How old had he been when the boy was born--about twenty? And was his wife attractive? Yes, Eve decided. This tough mercenary would like his woman to be feminine and rather helpless, with big blue eyes and fair hair in contrast to his darkness.
That was the image Eve built in her mind of the woman who waited for Wade O'Mara back in England, while he risked his neck in order to earn sufficient for his son's medical training. Eve thought of some of the men who were contemporaries of her guardian, and the kind of cash they played with on the investment market, able to pick up the phone and give instructions to a stockbroker involving thousands of pounds . . . but the man who was dedicated to getting her safely to the Tanga coast had to kill in order to educate his son.
Eve felt rather shaken, as she had at the age of fifteen when a school friend had enlightened her about the production of babies . . . as if she had learned a fact of life which was amazing and very intriguing. In the large house of her guardian she had been rather sheltered, and it had never been explained to her that men and women didn't only look and behave differently, but had a function in life that was also very dissimilar and accounted for the fact that men had aggressive ways to which women submitted either willingly or unwillingly.
Eve realised how aggressive was the jungle soldier whom she had to obey, on whose strength and ability she had to rely if she hoped to get to Tanga safe and well.
All around them seethed the forces of nature, and any one of the massive trees or tangled growths of vine [31-32] could have been hiding the kind of menace he was trained to overcome. Without him she would be totally lost and at the mercy of all sorts of danger . . . a cold shiver ran over Eve's moist skin, and never before had she felt so aware of being a woman as in this jungle with a tough mercenary who hunted rebels so that he could provide for his son.
What kind of a man did he become when he was back in England with the woman who was the mother of his son? Eve tried to resist the question, but it took a grip on her thoughts . . . was he a very ardent lover, showing his hard white teeth in a possessive smile as he took into his hard brown arms the woman from whom he was parted for hazardous months on the other side of the world?
Was she aware that he sometimes had to rescue nuns from an endangered mission, and be responsible for escorting a lone girl through rebel-occupied country?
Or didn't he talk about the dangers of his job . . . or the temptations involved?
Eve was shocked by her own thoughts, but they persisted in tormenting her as she tramped along in the wake of this man . . . so mocking and sure of his masculinity . . . and with a son named Larry. What could possibly be tempting in a man who antagonised her as much as this one did? A man who was married and the type she would have avoided in the normal course of events?
It was at that point in her feverish thoughts that Eve suddenly stumbled in her over-large sandals and gave a cry as her left foot turned over painfully. "Damnation!" Wade O'Mara halted instantly and swung round, his [32-33] black brows joined together above his blade of a nose. "What have you done now?"
"N-nothing," she said, but there were tears of pain dampening the edges of her eyes and she was obviously limping. He didn't move and when she drew level with him, he caught hold of her arm.
"I-I'm all right," she insisted.
"Don't be a heroine until you have to be," he growled. "Let me have a look at the damage."
"It's just a wrench--"
"Hoist the leg on this fallen log and let me look!"
It was a definite order and Eve reluctantly obeyed him. He removed her sandal and this added to her feeling of defencelessness, induced by the strength of his shoulders and the feel of his hand massaging her ankle.
He glanced at her and slitted his eyes against a ray
of reddish sun coming down through an opening in the trees. "You've done well for a slip of a girl, and this had better be rested for the night. I think we'll make camp, and then get an early start in the morning."
Sympathy from the ruthless was bound to take a girl by surprise, and Eve stared down at her ankle clasped in his tough brown hand. She blinked in an effort to stop the tears from coming. "Thanks," she mumbled. "That sun up there is going all to flame--I hadn't realised how the day was going."
He glanced at the dark-strapped watch on his hairy wrist. "The days start early in this part of the world and the nights come quickly. Yes, we'll now make camp, and I'm going to take a chance and light a small fire so we can have some tea. Fancy that?"
"Oh yes," she said fervently.
A slight smile curled his lips, and for the briefest [33-34] moment his fingers seemed to move in a caress against the fine bones of her slim ankle. Then he put her sandal back on and latched it, and even as Eve was steadying herself with a hand on the hard bone and sinew of his shoulder, her heart was reacting in a most unsteady way.
CHAPTER THREE
By the time the Major had settled on their camp site, the sun had slid beyond the trees and dropped away into the gullies of shadow. Eve glanced around her and became aware of the primitive atmosphere of the jungle when the sun faded and the darkness fell like a cloak. The tall trees seemed to come closer and the sounds in the undergrowth grew menacing.
Though she had been at the mission just over two months, Eve had never spent a night in the actual jungle . . . least of all with a man. She felt scared and strung-up, half fascinated by the experience, and yet wary of the man and the reason for the two of them being here, in the shadowy depths of this vast, unnerving and primeval place.
He had said he was going to light a fire, but Eve knew how risky that could be at night when the flickering flames might be seen, bringing upon them a sudden attack from out of the dark, sharp blades swinging in the firelight, doing to them what had been done to a Jesuit priest and several of his flock at a mission not far from the one where Eve had worked with Sister Mercy and the other nuns.
She waited in the deepening dusk, alone for the moment because Wade O'Mara had said he smelled creek water and had gone to investigate. Eve longed to sit down, but didn't dare risk it. Her ankle was aching, but it was the bodily weariness that was making her feel [35-36] so nervous and wan. Oh, how lovely right now to have a bed to fall into, where she could snuggle under the duvet and sink her head into a soft pillow. Sheer luxury! And when she awoke a shower to stand under, lathering herself with a foamy soap, twisting about under the delicious cascade until her skin was glowing.
Eve came out of her reverie to find Wade O'Mara in the clearing. He was carrying some objects which made a thumping noise when he dropped them. "Stones from the creekside," he explained. "I'll build the fire inside them and it won't be so visible."
"Is it wise?" she asked. "Perhaps we shouldn't risk it."
"You need some hot sweet tea, my lady, and so do I as a matter of fact. I'll open a can of corned beef and we have some biscuits. We shan't do too badly, eh?"
"You're very casual about everything, aren't you?" Yet even as she spoke Eve couldn't help wondering what lay behind that imperturbable manner of his; was it military training which induced it, or was he concerned not to let her see just how grim their situation was; two people alone like this in alien country, his nerve and that Breda automatic shotgun all that stood between them and the bloodthirsty vengeance the rebels were wreaking upon anyone who stood in their path.
"What do you mean by casual?" Wade went down on his haunches and started to arrange the fire stones. He glanced up a moment and she caught the glimmer of his teeth and eyes . . . alert as a leopard, she thought, with his vitality still at a high level of voltage despite the hard slogging pace he had set for both of them, all that day.
"Well, as if you did this kind of thing every night of your life."
[36-37] "I do it quite often, make camp in the jungle. The one definite difference is that I don't usually have the debutante of the season to share my bully beef and biscuits."
"I wish you wouldn't keep bringing that up!" she exclaimed. "I'm not a debutante any more--I didn't want to be one in the first place, but my guardian insisted."
"Come now, I'm sure you enjoyed every moment of the admiration and the proposals." His tone of voice was lazily sardonic. "How many did you collect?"
Eve heard the branches of dry wood snapping in his hands as he laid the fire in the compact circle of stones, and she wished he wouldn't be so sarcastic when she was feeling too weary to enjoy answering him back.
"I forget," she sighed. "They were unimportant."
"All but one of them, eh? You said you had a young man in England."
"Did I?" Eve ran her fingers through her sweaty hair and pulled at the collar of her shirt. She wished she could have a wash, and wondered if the creek held sufficient water for a quick plunge.
"I feel so messy," she said. "I-I'm not asking for any of our drinking water, but would it be possible for me to bathe in the creek?"
"Utterly impossible," he replied curtly. "This is nighttime, if you haven't noticed, and I don't know what's swimming about in there. You'll have to wait till the morning and I'll decide then if you can take a wash in it--it will be pretty muddy anyway."
"Mud is good for the complexion," she said flippantly. "What could be in it beside mud?"
"Things with teeth that snap at pink toes and milky-white bottoms," he rejoined. "I know you aren't feeling your usual bandbox self, but it's better to be safe than nipped, wouldn't you say?"
[37-38] "I suppose so." But she said it regretfully and watched as a match flared and was applied quickly to the kindling he had laid. The acrid tang of woodsmoke filled the night air and small flames fluttered upwards, then gradually sank to feed on the dry branches. Wade unbuckled the straps of his knapsack and took out a couple of cans, something tightly rolled, and finally a kettle that would hold about two cups of water. Eve listened as the water gurgled from the leather bottle into the small kettle, and she reflected again how unruffled this man seemed to be. She was glad he was so tough and self-reliant, but at the same time he was so disturbing and awoke in her a feeling of being a helpless and vulnerable female. She should be the one making the tea, yet it was he who placed the kettle on the improvised stove and put chunks of sugar in a large enamel mug.
"We'll have to share this," he said, and the firelight showed her the deep groove in his hard, unshaven cheek. "Like a loving cup in those romantic stories you probably read in bed."
"I'm not a romantic fool," she snapped. "You enjoy getting at me, don't you, just for the fun of it because I'm keeping you from what you really enjoy!"
"And what might that be?" he drawled, busily at work with a can opener, also found in the cavernous depths of his knapsack. "From what I know of men--and at my age, with my experience, I presume to know a little more than you, my lady--this situation has elements to it that most men would enjoy. I'm not so very different from all those guys, but this isn't a regular sort of picnic, honey, and while you and I strike tinder and make sparks, you don't let your thoughts wander where they shouldn't."
[38-39] "And where's that, may I ask?" Eve couldn't control a rush of colour to her cheeks, for he seemed to be implying that she was getting romantic ideas about him.
"All around us, in the jungle," he said explicitly. "We both know what could come out of there if our fire is spotted, and it's best not to think of what I'd have to do rather than see you fall into their hands--presuming it's true what you hinted, that I enjoy the business of killing."
Eve stared at him, a hand clenching her side as the kettle boiled and he dropped into it a handful of tea from a tin.
"Sorry we haven't any milk," he said drily, "but the tea will be hot and sweet and invigorating."
"Do you mean"--she could feel her heart thumping, "you'd kill me?"
"Sure, r
ather than see happen to you what I've seen elsewhere. My dear deb, I'm not in this man's army for kicks, or completely for the cash. People are being butchered out here, good people on the whole, if a little misguided about how other folks' countries should be run. I've seen nasty things in the last couple of years, and as I said once before, you should have stayed at home and married that smooth young man of yours, then you wouldn't be stuck with me in the middle of a jungle--a guy who may have to blow your pretty head off rather than see it chopped off."
"Ugh!" Eve shuddered all the way to the bottom of her spine. "You don't spare the rod, do you?"
"It had to be said, and now stop thinking about it." He untied the bundle he had taken from his knapsack and it sprang free of its tapes, an army blanket that was waterproofed on one side, which he laid on the ground he [39-40] had firmly trampled down with his boots. "Come on, sit down and try and relax. Do you like corned beef?"
She nodded, and despite his horrific words she wasn't turned off the food, which he handed to her on a chipped enamel plate, with a few digestive biscuits on the side. "Thank you." She glanced up at him, standing very tall in the firelight. "And don't hesitate to do it, if you have to!"
"A proficient soldier never hesitates, and I'm very proficient when I have to be. Also a good shot, if that will set your mind at rest?"
"My mind's at rest." In the shifting glow of the fire, as he poured the tea, his features were distinctly ruthless and above them he had the tousled dark hair of a freebooter. Eve was in no doubt that she could be sure of swift annihilation should the rebels attack them, and even as she felt a sense of relief about it, she still felt that deep-down sense of disturbance at being so alone with Wade O'Mara. She had never met anyone of his type before. Had he always been a soldier, wandering from war to war, and never at home long enough to become tamed and ordinary like so many other husbands? Was his wife so undemanding that she didn't mind being without this tough, resourceful man for months on end?
"Thank you, Major." Eve accepted the big tea mug and set her lips to the brim. The tea was strong, but she was far too thirsty to mind, and she gulped her half of the brew while he sprawled on the blanket and crunched a biscuit while he watched her.
Time of the Temptress Page 3
