Night of the Condor (9 page)

'The mule carries our gear,' he had told her. 'You, lady, carry yourself.

Oh, I have, Leigh thought wearily, sinking down on to a patch of scrubby grass. And now I want to put myself down.

'Resting comes later.' Oh God, what now? She rolled over and looked at him, as he stood unloading the mule. 'You look for kindling, while I pitch the tent.'

'In a moment.' Leigh flexed her toes painfully within the confining boot.

'Now,' he came back at her grimly, 'that is if you want a warm supper. You're not a luxury passenger on this trip, Miss Frazier, so you do your share of the chores,'

Leigh stuck her tongue out at him as he turned away. It was childish, but she didn't care. He had given her the hardest time of her life today, not just physically, but mentally too. She had been warm, charming and approachable, bubbling over with questions about the terrain they were crossing, but each and every one of her conversational gambits had been blocked. She felt strongly inclined to say 'To hell with it' and relapse into an identical silence, but she didn't want him to defeat her again. She had vowed to make him squirm, and she would do precisely that, even if her facial muscles were aching almost as much as the rest of her weary body with all this determined jollity.

She was relieved to find there was plenty of dry wood around, and made the fire economically and efficiently.

'There you are,' she said, as Rourke came over with the pack of food. 'I'm not as useless as I look.'

'No one could be,' he said with brutal frankness, and her hands curled into fists. Oh, taking him down a peg or two, or even three, was going to be more than a pleasure!

Supper was soup, coffee and potatoes baked in the fire, with the last of Maria's bread. Leigh wondered what they would do for food the following day, and guessed that Atayahuanco was probably nearer than Rourke wished her to know.

She stole a covert look at him under her lashes. His face was brooding as he stared into the flames. He was probably plotting his next move to be rid of her.

She said dreamily, 'It's a beautiful night. I can't believe how much warmer it is at this altitude.' She stretched sinuously, fully aware that he was looking in her direction, then slowly and deliberately undid another couple of buttons in her shirt. 'It's a pity we're not near water. I would have loved a swim.'

'I doubt it—unless your taste runs to leaping into snowdrifts.' His voice was curt, and he was frowning as he reached into a pocket and drew out a slim case, extracting a cheroot from it and lighting it.

Leigh hid a smile. Well, she had never seen him smoke before. A sign of tension, perhaps?

She sighed elaborately. 'Do you have to be such a realist?'

'I think one of us needs to be,' he said drily, drawing deeply on the cheroot. 'I don't know which I find harder to take—your view of Atayahuanco as some kind of romantic adventure, or your—er—fiancé's concept of it as an undeserved prison sentence.'

'And which is nearer the truth?'

'The truth probably occupies some kind of middle ground.' He gave her a long steady look. 'But if you want to preserve your illusions intact, it would be far better to go home.'

'Without Evan?' she asked sharply. 'I wouldn't dream of it.'

'Well, I hope your dream doesn't turn into a nightmare.'

The conversation, Leigh thought vexedly, hadn't gone at all as she intended.

She gentled her voice deliberately, inserting a husky note. 'Oh, I wish I could make you understand. Are you married, Doctor Martinez?'

'No.' The butt of the cheroot went whirling into the fire.

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. 'But you must at least have been—in love at some time.'

He looked into the flames, the expression on his face enigmatic. 'Or what passes for it,' he agreed laconically.

I bet, she thought with sudden savagery, remembering again, in spite of herself, the cynical expertise of his caresses.

'Is that enough? Don't you ever find yourself wishing for more?'

'Wishing for what one can't have is a singularly fruitless occupation,' he said sardonically. 'Or haven't you noticed?'

She decided to ignore that last question. 'I wouldn't have thought there was much beyond your reach, Doctor Martinez. Or do you consider yourself married to your work?'

'Hardly, but it isn't a life for a woman to share.'

'The—right woman might think there were sufficient compensations.'

'I doubt it,' he said coolly. 'But I'm flattered that you take such a close interest in my personal affairs, even if it is an unnecessary one.'

'We've been thrown together.' Leigh looked at him through her lashes. 'I think under the circumstances, I can be forgiven a little—feminine curiosity about the man I'm alone with.'

'Then contain your curiosity, Miss Frazier. Believe me, it's much safer that way.'

'Is safety really all that counts?' The words, the tone in which they were uttered, the curve of her body as she leaned towards him were all deliberate provocation. And his own slight, unguarded movement showed quite plainly that despite his aloof front, he was far from immune.

'In this situation, I'd say so.' His voice was short, and Leigh had to control a satisfied smile.

She had succeeded in getting to him a little, and there was victory in that, even if she hadn't guaranteed him the sleepless night she had originally intended. But you couldn't have everything, she thought, stretching again, letting her hands slide over the rounded line of her hips.

'Well, it's been quite a day,' she said with a little sigh. 'Unless there's anything you want me to do, I think I'll turn in.'

'The tent's ready for you.' He tossed some more wood on the fire, not looking at her. 'And we have an early start in the morning.'

Leigh got gracefully to her feet, smothering a wince as. she put weight on her blistered sole. 'Are you sure you have everything you need?' She lifted her hands and raked her tawny hair back from her face. He didn't reply, and after a pause, she went on, 'Then I wish you pleasant dreams—Rourke.'

She was at the tent, when his voice followed her tersely. 'And keep the flap fastened once you're in there, unless you want to be eaten alive by insects.'

As presumably he was going to be, on the hard ground by the fire, Leigh thought, as she obeyed his instructions.

The tent was not a great deal larger than the one she had left on the
puna
, and stiflingly hot. He had spread out a sleeping-bag, which was chivalrous of him, she supposed, but there was no way she was going to climb inside it. It was far too warm for that.

By the light of the small lamp fixed to the ridge pole, she removed her boots and examined her feet with a certain amount of concern. Both were blistered, but with luck they would stand up to another day's walk, or at least she hoped so. She had brought some antiseptic ointment and plasters with her, but they had been stolen with the rest of her supplies, and she wasn't going to ask Rourke Martinez for assistance, and give him another excuse for trying to leave her behind.

Her father's instructions must be weighing heavily on him at the moment, she thought, smiling, as she took off her shirt and wriggled out of the close-fitting jeans. She rolled her clothes into a bundle and tossed them to the back of the tent, before stretching out on top of the sleeping-bag. It wasn't luxury, but it was better than she could have hoped. In spite of her brave words the previous day, she hadn't relished the idea of such enforced proximity.

She sighed, consciously relaxing, grateful that no one was expecting her to walk anywhere else, and she could be still at last.

Her eyes were already closing, her mind drifting into the agreeable half-world which separates sleep from waking, when she was suddenly, startlingly aware of disturbance—upheaval.

She shot upright, nearly cracking her head on the ridge pole, gasping, 'What the hell…'

Rourke said, 'I see you've taken over. The sleeping-bag, however, is mine, and I'd like it back.'

Her mind reeled as she stared at him in disbelief. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean I need my sleep too.' He reached past her and dragged forward the roll of blankets she had got from Maria. 'Yours, I think. Or couldn't you even be bothered to look for them?'

Her throat felt tight. She croaked, 'But you—I thought you were going to sleep outside—by the fire…'

He gave a derisive laugh. 'Then think again. Now, move over.'

For a breathless moment she thought he was going to lay hands on her, and she wriggled away, panic lending her agility in the cramped surroundings, clutching the roll of blankets defensively against her.

Rourke was unbuttoning his shirt, she realised, dry-mouthed, stripping it off. 'You—you can't…'

'Why not?' The topaz eyes comprehensively surveyed her state of undress. 'You have.' He unbuckled his belt, and Leigh shrank back further, biting her lip savagely. 'But don't worry.' His voice reached her softly, goadingly. 'I'm not going any further—unless, of course, you insist. Now, are you going to sleep on those blankets, or continue to use them as a barricade?'

She realised with chagrin that she had actually closed her eyes. She opened them now to glare at him, trying to ignore the shock to her senses evoked by all that bare, tanned skin. The dark briefs which were his only covering made only the slightest concession to modesty, she realised, with a tingle of apprehension.

She said, 'I'll sleep on them, if I can have the tent to myself.'

'Not a chance.' He was propped up on one elbow, watching her. 'Only a moment ago you were asking if there was anything I needed. It could be I've thought of something.'

There was no need—no need at all to feel so bloody agitated, Leigh told herself. He was just trying to turn the tables on her again, that was all. And the fact that his eyes were all over her didn't matter in the slightest. Her underwear was cotton and perfectly decent, and he had seen her in it before, for heaven's sake. In fact, he had seen her in far less, but that was the last thing she needed to remember.

She tried to sound dignified but nonchalant. 'Don't you think this joke's gone far enough, Doctor Martinez?'

'A short while back, it was Rourke,' he said pleasantly. 'Or did you forget?'

'No,' she said huskily. 'I think it's you that's forgotten—just who I am, and who you are. Don't you feel you're rather exceeding your instructions?'

'I wasn't aware I'd received any,' he said. 'Unless that's how you regard the come-on you were giving me in the firelight just now.'

She gasped. 'I was doing nothing of the sort…'

'That's a lie, and we both know it,' he said unarguably. He held out a hand. 'Now stop being coy,
querida
, and put down those blankets, and come here to me. I want to remind myself how delicious you taste.'

Leigh was burning up with humiliation, her little victory reduced to ashes.

She steadied her voice with a tremendous effort. 'May we drop this pretence, please? My father may have told you to chase me out of Peru by any means you chose, but I hardly think he meant you to go to these lengths, Doctor Martinez. Now, if you'll take your sleeping-bag, and leave me in peace, I promise I won't tell him about this.' She paused, swallowing. 'I—I realise, of course, that I'm partly to blame— because I—teased you, and I'm sorry.'

'I'm sure you are,' he said mockingly. 'Didn't anyone ever warn you,
amada
, never to dangle a meal in front of a hungry man, especially when you've been to so much trouble to remind him that he has an appetite? Could that mean you're a little hungry yourself?'

'No, it doesn't mean anything,' she said, almost despairingly. 'Rourke—I don't know what my father's exact orders to you were, but I know he didn't intend this, so let's just get back to square one and…'

'And get one thing straight,' he interrupted, and there was a note in his voice which sent a shiver trembling across her heated skin. 'I don't take orders from your father, or anyone else for that matter. As it happens, I've never spoken to him in my life, and his possible reaction to the news that I've seduced you is not my pressing concern. Do you understand me?'

'Yes.' Leigh pressed her hands to her burning face.

'I'm glad. And you,
seňorita
, also have something to be thankful for—that I'm actually too bushed to reach out and discover whether under all that gloss and artifice there's a real woman hiding somewhere. Now, I suggest you put out the lamp and let me get some sleep before I change my mind.'

Her hands shook as she unfastened the blankets hurriedly, and spread them in the small available space, before obeying his instruction about the lamp. Darkness gave an illusion of privacy, but it was only an illusion, she thought as she lay down, curling herself into a small defensive huddle as far from him as she could get.

'You're as tense as a coiled spring.' His voice reached her after a lengthy silence. 'Relax, in God's name!'

'I'm trying to,' she said huskily. 'I know this is all a joke to you, but…'

'I promise you I never felt less like laughter,' he interrupted with weary impatience. 'May I remind you that you invited yourself along on this trip? If the facilities don't appeal to you, you have only yourself to blame.'

There was a certain justice in that, Leigh acknowledged with a small sigh, as she tried to uncoil rigid muscles. Everything that had happened she had brought on herself, and her ordeal wasn't over yet either.

She would just have to lie there quietly, and endure somehow until he was asleep, which, if his even breathing was anything to go by, would not take long. She pressed clenched knuckles against her teeth, hating him. Apart from that brief revelation that he had seen through her little game entirely, he was being unbearably casual about this enforced intimacy. What a fool she had been to think she could ever get under his skin in any way, she thought wincing.

In spite of her discomfort, she managed eventually to doze, but her sleep was fitful and disturbed, aggravated by unnerving dreams. With a rumbling growl, the mountain was falling on her, crushing her, robbing her of breath, and she sat up with a whimpering cry, gulping at the stifling air in the tent, as the low sinister boom reached her ears again.