Flame of Diablo (15 page)

with sensual delights that some deep,

unsuspected part of herself yearned for.

It was. essential, she thought, for that

door never to open again. At least not

with him, she amended hastily, a man

who preyed on women, and who had

learned the sensual tricks he practised to

such effect in a dozen other beds.

Yet why couldn't Leigh have discovered

these deeps in her? she asked herself

bewilderedly. She'd been a fair way to

falling in love with Leigh, and she

wasn't in love with Vitas de Mendoza at

all.

She started violently as his voice, edged

with impatience, came to her through the

tent flap. 'Are you going to take all day,

Raquel? It is time we were setting out.'

She bundled the blankets together with

fingers made suddenly clumsy and

emerged from the tent.

His black hat tipped low over his

forehead, he looked even more like a

bandit or a pirate captain than ever,

standing there with his hands on his hips,

she thought indignantly. All he needed

was a sword, or a brace of silver-

mounted pistols.

He was looking her over too.

'Your chaste precautions are wasted,

alma de mi vida.'
His gaze rested

pointedly on her shirt, buttoned to the

collar. 'I have both my memory and

imagination to draw upon. Besides,

charms that are hidden are in themselves

a provocation—or was that what you

intended?'

'I intended nothing,' she replied with

dignity, if not complete truth. 'But I don't

doubt that you'll believe precisely what

you want to believe.'

He gave her a slight half-mocking bow

and gestured her towards her horse

which was tethered nearby, saddled and

bridled for her.

She walked over to the animal and began

to talk to it in a low voice. Its ears

flickered and it dipped its head, questing

her hand for the titbits she did not have.

Vitas went past her carrying the

dismantled tent. 'We'll use Carlos' mount

for a packhorse today,' he tossed at her

over his shoulder. 'It is not fit for a great

deal else.'

'Neither of them are,' she returned wryly.

'But yours is a beautiful animal. He must

have cost a great deal of money.'

As soon as she had spoken, she could

have bitten her tongue out. She'd merely

been following a train of thought, but it

sounded as if she was being snide about

his source of income. But he did not

seem either offended or on the

defensive.

'He did, but he has repaid me a hundred

times with his courage and devotion.' He

ran a caressing hand down the horse's

neck. 'He was bred on the Llanos where

these qualities are born in the bone.'

'The Llanos?' Rachel queried.

'Our cattle plains. Mile upon mile of

grass and scrub as fir as the eye can see

—for months as parched as the desert,

and then the floods come. A place, it is

said, where a man can lose his past and

find himself in truth.'

'You seem to know a great deal about it.'

She watched him load up the spare

horse.

He shrugged. 'It is natural enough. I was

born there.'

'Were you ever a
gaucho?'
she asked.

'We call them
llaneros,'
he said. 'Yes,

I've driven cattle. That's when I learned

to ride.'

'And now you prefer to herd human

cattle round the mountains?' she asked

wonderingly. She gave a little laugh.

'What a silly question! Of course you do.

It will be a much easier life, and the

pickings will be better.'

He gave her a dry look, 'As you say,

senorita,'
he agreed, swinging himself

smoothly into the saddle.

She felt an odd disappointment. In a way

she had hoped he would be indignant,

and defend his occupation, and his

reasons for choosing it. But perhaps

there was no defence and he knew it.

'Will you ever go back there?' She

mounted her own horse.

He shrugged again. 'It is possible.'

As she drew level with him, she gave

him a sideways look. 'To lose your

past?'

'Perhaps,' he drawled. 'Or maybe to find

my future. Who knows?'

Which was hardly an answer at all,

Rachel thought crossly as she followed

him along the river bank. When they

reached a place where they could once

more ride side by side, she saw that his

face under the shadow of his hat had

become harsh and brooding, and she

found herself wondering if her casual

questions had sparked off memories and

even regrets that he had no wish to

entertain. She wondered too what had

driven him from the Llanos, and

supposed it must have been poverty or

the appeal of town life.

She would liked to have enquired more

closely, but it seemed as if he had

withdrawn in some strange way, and she

dared not interrupt his reverie.

The damp fragrant air of the forest

encircled them once again, and they

began to climb slowly but steadily, the

track they were using winding upwards

in a series of dizzying zig-zags. Snatches

of a haunting perfume came to Rachel's

nostrils and she wondered which of the

unknown plants they were passing it

came from. Bottle it and you could make

a fortune in Bond Street, she thought, and

smiled to herself.

They had been riding for about an hour

when suddenly the air around them

seemed to become alive with movement

and colour, a whirring, vibrating mass of

wings.

Rachel reined back her suddenly restive

horse. 'What is it?'

'Humming birds. There are thousands of

them at this level. The conditions suit

them.' Vitas' tone was brusque, but at

least the silence between them had

broken and he had recognised the fact

that she was alive, she thought, and

immediately

castigated

herself

for

inconsistency. She should welcome his

silence, whatever the case. She should

not want to attract his attention. It was

just that the contrast between the almost

overwhelming attention he had paid her

so far and his present attitude was so

marked, she told herself, and it made her

uneasy. Just when she thought she had

got him taped, he had become something

of an enigma.

The soft whirling humming of the birds'

wings around them seemed to echo the

confusion of her own thoughts. Vitas had

ridden on ahead again, and she made no

immediate

attempt

to

catch

up,

deliberately hanging back so that she

could absorb more fully the strange alien

beauty of her surroundings. The trees

were tall here, rearing towards the

heavens like proud giants, with shrubs

and ferns, many of which she had never

seen before, clustered round their bases

in a dark web. One thick bush in

particular caught her eye, its heavy

blossom as bright as flame in the dim

light.

'You're not what I would describe as the

perfect guide,
senor
,' she commented

acidly when she caught up with him

again. 'Don't you normally provide your

clients with some kind of running

commentary on the scenery?'

'You only said you wished to be taken to

Diablo,
senorita,'
he drawled. 'Had you

wanted a botanical tour, you should have

applied to someone else.'

Rachel drew a deep breath. 'My deepest

regret,
senor,
is that I failed to do so,'

she said silkily.

'And I am beginning to regret,
senorita,

that I didn't leave you to Carlos' tender

mercies,' he returned harshly. 'Although

his interest in biology was clearly a

little too basic for you.'

She bit her lip. It was maddening to

begin a sparring match with him, only to

emerge the loser. And it was undignified

as well, she warned herself. She had

played the Ice Maiden role that Leigh

had thrust upon her well enough back in

London. She'd managed to combine an

air of cool enigma with an aloof, even

offhand manner, which combined with

her slender blonde beauty had contrived

to make even the most determined

womaniser

think

twice

about

approaching her. Yet none of it had

seemed to impress Vitas de Mendoza—

with the obvious exception of her

physical looks. Honey and cream, he had

called her, she thought, her cheeks

warming with mingled embarrassment

and annoyance at the memory.

She made herself say evenly, 'I think

perhaps we should declare a truce,

Senor de Mendoza.'

He slanted an openly mocking look at

her. 'And why should we do any such

thing, Senorita Crichton?'

'Well,' she shrugged, rather at a loss,

having expected him to accede to her

suggestion without comment, 'it occurs to

me that as we are forced to be in each

other's company for a certain amount of

time, we might as well make the best of

it.'

'De acuerdo.''
He gave her a sardonic

grin. 'I never intended it otherwise,

querida,
believe me. Are you trying to

tell me that you are resigned to your

fate?'

'I am talking of the trip to Diablo,' she

said stonily. 'Not of what may or may not

happen when we reach our destination.'

'You sound as if there is still some doubt

in your mind as to my intentions,' he

remarked. 'If so, I recommend you to

dismiss it,
chica.
Don't delude yourself

that I am in ignorance of the schemes for

evading my predatory embrace which

have no doubt been occupying your

devious female mind for the past few

hours.'

'I don't know what you mean,' she said

haughtily.

'No?' He raised an eyebrow. 'Well, think

of this, then,
querida.
What will you do

if we get to Diablo and find that your

brother is not there after all?'

She gasped and her face paled. That was

a possibility the startling events of the

last twenty-four hours had made her lose

sight of.

His voice went on coolly. 'I give you

fair warning, Raquel. I agreed to take

you to Diablo so that you could find your

brother, but if your brother should not

happen to be there, I should not consider

the terms of our bargain null and void.'

'But he has to be there,' she said almost

inaudibly.

He bent towards her out of his saddle.

'
Por que
? So that you can take refuge

with him? Do you really think I shall

permit that?'

'I don't give a damn what you permit,'

she said raggedly. 'I told you back in

Asuncion why I want to find Mark. My

grandfather is very ill, he may even be

dying while I'm here arguing with you.

He wants to see him before he dies and

I've promised to bring him back. That's

the sole and only reason I'm here with

you,
senor.
Because time is of the

essence, and I need to find Mark fast—

if not at Diablo, then at some other

place.'

There was a brief almost tangible

silence, and then he said between his

teeth, 'And what manner of man is this

grandfather that he sends a girl on such a

mission?'

She gave him a defiant look. 'As a matter

of fact, you and he have a great deal in

common. He also regards women as

having no other function than to look

decorative, cook, and be submissive

bed-partners.'

'Your culinary skills don't interest me,

Raquel, and I look for something more

exciting than mere submission from you.'

'Then you'll be disappointed,' she

flashed.

'I don't think so.' He was frowning

slightly. 'So if the grandfather has these

views on the status of women, what are