Night Of The Condor. Sara Craven

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      ‘Playing hard to get, querida?’ Shattered as she was, Leigh could hear the thinly veiled mockery in his voice. ‘But there’s no need, and certainly no time. I’ve already told you I have to be off early in the morning.’

      He was making no attempt to touch her again. Slowly, Leigh sat up, still clutching the bedcover rigidly against her naked breasts. She looked at him, trying to steady her tumultuous breathing. He was lounging on the bed, very much at his ease. His face was straight, but she could hear the grin in his voice as he said, ‘Don’t be coy, my beautiful Leigh. I can’t make love to you through a coverlet.’

      She said on a snarl, ‘You won’t make love to me at all. How dare you lay a finger on me, you swine! Come anywhere near me again, and I’ll have you arrested for rape!’

      ‘I wonder how you’d get on,’ Rourke said thoughtfully. ‘You invite me up here, for an intimate dinner for two. You persuade me to stay longer than I intend. You tell me a sad story of how long it is since you had a man, and insist I am the only one who can solve your problem.’ He shrugged. ‘I wonder what the authorities would make of that.’

      Leigh was almost crying with rage. ‘I didn’t mean that—you know I didn’t! You’ve deliberately chosen to misinterpret my words. All I wanted was …’

      ‘To go to Atayahuanco,’ he finished for her. ‘But I’ve already told you that’s not possible, and there was no ambiguity in my words,’ he ended grimly. ‘No, Miss Frazier, you miscalculated badly if you thought a few smiles and soft words would change my mind about you. Everything tonight—the food, the wine, that dress—was intended to seduce me, isn’t that so? Well——’ He stretched lithely. ‘You succeeded beyond your wildest dreams. Isn’t that good to know?’

      ‘It’s totally nauseating.’ Her heart was beating so hard, it was almost painful. ‘Now get out of here. I never want to set eyes on you again.’

      He sighed. ‘You disappoint me, querida. I’d hoped you might resort to some rather more potent form of persuasion. You have the body for it. The sight of you, the taste of you has given me an appetite for more.’

      She drew a sharp, swift breath. ‘You—actually think I’d sleep with you to get to Atayahuanco? You really are crazy!’

      He laughed. ‘Your motives are your own business. I would have only one—to enjoy every delectable inch of you for a few hours.’ He gave her a mocking look. ‘But I still wouldn’t take you to Atayahuanco.’

      ‘I’d die sooner than have you touch me again,’ she said icily.

      He shrugged. ‘There we must differ. Because I think if I touched you—really touched you—you might even start to live.’ He swung himself off the bed, straightening his tie almost casually, and stood looking down on her. ‘But we shall never know, it seems. Buenas noches, Leigh.’

      It was a long time before Leigh dared move—long after the closing of the outer door of the suite had signalled his departure.

      She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she clambered stiffly off the bed—half-naked and dishevelled, she was a far cry from the elegant vision she had taken such pride in only an hour or two before. Her face crumpled like a child, and she had to seize on her self-control as her sense of humiliation threatened to overwhelm her.

      No one had ever dared treat her so shamefully before, she raged inwardly. And she couldn’t even pretend, for her own comfort, that Rourke Martinez had been either drunk or carried away by passion when he had inflicted this degradation. No, he had known exactly what he was doing. He had deliberately allowed her to create the situation, then turned it against her.

      She stripped off the black dress with loathing, and hurled it into a corner of the wardrobe. Well, she never wanted to see that again as long as she lived!

      She took a lengthy shower, scouring her body to rid herself of any lingering remnant of his touch. But the scented gel with its alluring, evocative fragrance didn’t really supply the desired effect.

      What I really need is a bar of strong carbolic, she thought savagely.

      Even when she eventually got into bed, she couldn’t rest. She still seemed to feel the weight of Rourke’s body beside her, over her, crushing her down, his hands reaching for her.

      Eventually she sat up, switched on the lamp, and said flatly and aloud, ‘This is ridiculous.’

      She supposed she could always summon a maid and have the bed made up with fresh linen, but that might cause comment. So, if sleep was out of the question, she could consider the other options open to her. She dismissed the idea of switching tomorrow to another suite, or even another hotel. There was nothing for her in Lima anyway. She might as well move on. But where?

      Going back to England, admitting defeat, was out of the question. Besides, Evan might be in danger, and she couldn’t think about her own comfort and safety in such circumstances.

      She had more than one score to settle with Rourke Martinez, she thought bitterly. Undoubtedly, it was his harshness and lack of understanding of Evan’s problems which had driven him away like that.

      But she had already, albeit reluctantly, abandoned the idea of trying to get him dismissed from the project because of the way he had treated her. She was uneasily aware that her own conduct had not been above reproach, and that her complaints against him might indeed sound rather thin—as he had implied, damn him. She could—oh God—just imagine her father’s reaction to her story …

      No, the best, most dignified thing was to pretend it had never happened—wipe it from her mind completely, although that wouldn’t be so easy when she had to face him again eventually at Atay huanco. Although then she would have Evan beside her, she thought. Even if he had gone off on some crazy hunt for Inca gold, he surely intended to return.

      Suddenly she felt cold. She lay back again, tucking the covers round her. If only Evan hadn’t gone off like that, without a word. Why hadn’t he mentioned what he intended in his last letter? If he had stayed at the camp for just a few days longer, he would have got her message. He would have been here with her in Lima, planning their wedding. He might even have been with her now, in this bed, holding her so that she would never be cold or frightened again.

      Leigh shifted restlessly. Except that she had never really believed in pre-marital sex. If she wore white for her wedding, she wanted it to mean something, and Evan had acceded to her wishes, with wry resignation.

      ‘You’re a mass of contradictions, do you know that?’ he had whispered to her, when she had withdrawn gently but firmly from a situation that seemed likely to carry them both away. ‘You’re always so confident, darling, so sure of your place in the world. But underneath it all, you’re really old-fashioned, aren’t you?’

      At the time, she had been delighted with his understanding. It had emphasised, she thought, how right they were for each other. But now she wished she hadn’t been so uptight in her attitude.

      It should have been Evan’s mouth scorching hers in fierce, sensual demand. It should have been Evan’s hands caressing her naked breasts for the first time. It was Evan’s lovemaking which should have drawn that unquenchable shiver of response from her and not Rourke Martinez’ cynical advances.

      Oh, Evan, she thought miserably. Where are you, now that I need you?

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