Country Of The Falcon. Anne Mather

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      She drew the blankets up to her chin. She was cold. In spite of the ground-sheet, the dampness of the earth seemed to strike up at her and she wished she had had the sense to bring a woollen sweater with her from the boat.

      Declan O’Rourke stirred. ‘Relax,’ he mumbled sleepily, misinterpreting her movements. ‘I won’t touch you. I prefer to sleep alone, but as we have only one ground-sheet…’

      Alexandra rolled on to her side away from him, resenting the fact that he had been the one to voice his dissatisfaction with the situation, and a few moments later she heard his steady breathing. She hunched her shoulders miserably, trying not to shiver. She was not used to the hardness of the floor, or the snuffling sounds coming from one of the smaller children. And there was a catarrhal snore issuing from someone’s throat. What an awful place this was, she thought, sniffing. She felt hot tears pressing at her eyelids. It was self-pity, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. At least at Los Hermanos she had had a hammock to sleep in, up and away from the possible intrusion of ants or spiders. Oh, God, she thought sickly, what if a tarantula entered the hut during the night as one had at Los Hermanos? What if it crawled across the blanket on to her face?

      She caught her breath on a sob, shuddering uncontrollably, and almost jumped out of her skin when a warm arm curved over her waist, drawing her back against a hard muscular body. She struggled automatically until his mouth beside her ear said rather resignedly:

      ‘I’m not about to rape you, but you are cold—and terrified too, I guess. I’m not completely without sensitivities, you know.’

      Alexandra stopped struggling, but she held herself stiffly. ‘You said you wouldn’t touch me!’ she accused him in a whisper.

      ‘You want I should let you go?’ His voice had hardened.

      All of a sudden Alexandra gave in and relaxed against him. His warmth was enveloping her like a comforting shield, and she no longer wanted to resist him.

      ‘No,’ she admitted huskily, overwhelmingly aware of the masculine hardness of his thighs against hers. ‘I—I’m sorry. I was frozen!’

      His hand on her stomach drew her closer into the curve of his body. ‘I can feel that,’ he observed quietly. ‘Now, I suggest you get some sleep. You’re perfectly safe.’

      But it was easier said than done. Although she was now warm, she was also disturbed by his nearness. She had never been this close to any man before and she moved against him restlessly, feeling every movement he made.

      At last he said: ‘For God’s sake, lie still, or I won’t be responsible for the consequences!’ in a curiously rough tone, and the harsh words caused her to remain motionless until sleep came to claim her.

      The sounds of the children woke her. She blinked and opened her eyes warily, and then became conscious of the weight of Declan’s arm across her breasts. He was still asleep, she thought, but when she made a tentative move to escape from his hold, his eyes opened and looked into hers. She felt herself flushing. She couldn’t help it. But he merely gave her a half mocking smile before rolling on to his back and rubbing his hand over the darkening stubble of his chin.

      Alexandra sat up, smoothing a hand over the heavy weight of her hair, feeling its tangled disorder. The hut door was open and the children were running in and out. The wife of their host was sitting in one corner of the hut suckling the youngest child at her drooping breasts, while from outside came the smell of food roasting over a fire. She looked down at Declan, as relaxed as if he had just spent the night in a comfortable bed, and her colour deepened again as his eyes moved to the rounded outline of her breasts beneath the thin material of her blouse.

      ‘You’d better button your shirt,’ he remarked dryly. ‘Women’s Lib may be all right for the natives, but I don’t somehow think you’re that emancipated.’

      Alexandra’s lips parted and she looked down in embarrassment to find a couple of the buttons of her blouse had become unfastened during the night. Her fingers fumbled them into their holes and then she got to her feet, brushing down her denim jeans in an effort to assure herself that they at least were decent.

      Declan sat up, running his fingers through the thickness of his straight hair. ‘There are no washing facilities here,’ he said, ‘but you can wash in the river if you wish. As to the other …’ he grinned, ‘there are plenty of trees for cover.’

      Alexandra gave him an impatient look and then walked to the door of the hut. Outside their host was spit-roasting something over his fire. It looked like meat and it smelt like meat, but when Declan came to stand behind her he said it was fish. Alexandra ate some, sitting cross-legged like Declan, and found it amazingly good. Or maybe it was that she had had so little to eat the day before, anything would have tasted good.

      After the meal, Declan collected the blankets and they bade their hosts goodbye. Then they walked back through the jungle to the river where the boat was rocking gently on its mooring. Declan slung the blankets into the boat and then began unbuttoning his shirt and trousers. Alexandra stared at him in alarm.

      ‘What are you doing?’ she exclaimed in horror.

      Declan threw off his shirt and with a mild grimace examined a tick which had embedded itself on his chest during the night. Then he bent to take off his trousers, saying: ‘I’m going for a swim. Want to join me?’

      ‘In the river!’ Alexandra gasped. ‘But aren’t there piranhas in the water?’

      ‘Probably,’ he agreed, looking down at the purple trunks which were his only piece of underwear. Then he smiled. ‘I won’t horrify you by stripping to the raw. But I don’t mind if you do.’

      Alexandra shook her head, turning away apprehensively as he dived cleanly into the water, and then glanced back over her shoulder, half expecting him to appear minus a limb. However, he came up, shaking his hair back out of his eyes, and swam across the current with powerful strokes.

      Alexandra remained on the bank until he emerged unscathed, brushing the water from his body and drying himself with one of the blankets thrown to him by the Indians in the boat.

      ‘That’s better,’ he said, reaching for his pants and pulling them on over the wet trunks. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like to try it?’

      ‘No, thank you.’ Alexandra watched him covertly, noticing how broad his shoulders were and how the muscles of his chest rippled beneath the curls of black hair. There was hair on his stomach, too, but she found him watching her and quickly looked away. Even so, she was aware that she was trembling a little, and her heart pounded loudly in her ears. She had never felt this way before, and she told herself severely that it was the complete lack of inhibition around here that caused the moistening of her palms and the curious weakening sensation in the pit of her stomach. She was not used to seeing half-naked men, or women either if it came to that.

      ‘You’d better check that you don’t have any bugs making their home beneath your skin,’ he advised, leaving the top buttons of his shirt unfastened and tucking the bottom into his pants with no apparent sense of embarrassment at her scrutiny.

      ‘Bugs?’ Alexandra stared at him.

      ‘Bugs, ticks—what’s the difference? You don’t leave them alone. Want me to look?’

      ‘No!’ Alexandra was horrified. Shaking her head vigorously, she СКАЧАТЬ