Country Of The Falcon

‘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 turned away, and unbuttoned her blouse, examining her breasts for any horrible little insects like the tick he had flicked off his own chest. But to her relief there was nothing to be seen and she was about to fasten her blouse again when her fingers brushed against something warm and bulging fastened to the skin that covered her diaphragm. With a little gasp she twisted herself to see what it was and almost fainted when she realised it was a leech.

‘Oh, God!’ she moaned, and at once he was beside her, jerking her round to face him, his eyes darkening when he saw what it was that had caused her despair.

‘Don’t panic,’ he muttered, going down on his haunches and taking out his knife. ‘Now—I’ll try not to hurt you, but keep still!’

Alexandra nodded, her fists clenched. She felt the stinging pain as the revolting creature dropped to the ground, and then Declan leant forward and put his mouth to the place where it had been, sucking hard. That hurt, more than the removal of the worm had done, but she stood motionless until he spat away the blood he had drawn and rose to his feet. Then, with trembling fingers, she gathered her blouse protectively about her and burst into tears.

Declan studied her woebegone face with wry compassion. Then he said: ‘It’s not as bad as all that, you know. But hang on. I’ve got some antiseptic in my kit. I think it needs something over it.’

He swung himself across and into the boat, and came back a few minutes later with a bottle and an elastic plaster. The antiseptic stung abominably, but Alexandra was too distraught to protest.

However, by the time he had secured the plaster and buttoned her blouse for her she was beginning to feel a little ashamed of her outburst. She rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands, smearing dust across her cheeks.

‘I suppose you think I’m a fool,’ she said.

Declan shook his head. ‘Why should I think that? It was a normal reaction. Better to get it over with than bottling it up. I thought you behaved rather well in the circumstances. At least you didn’t scream when I used the knife.’

Alexandra bit hard on her lower lip. ‘Will it—I mean, it’s not poisonous or anything, is it?’

Declan pushed her gently but firmly towards the boat. ‘No. You’ll survive. But I’ll have another look at it tonight, if you’ve no objections?’

Alexandra hunched her shoulders. ‘There’s not much point in objecting now, is there?’

Declan helped her into the boat. ‘My dear child, the sight of the naked female form is no novelty around here, believe me!’ An amused quirk to his mouth made her feel rather silly and unsophisticated. ‘And besides, you’ve got a beautiful body. Why be ashamed of it? You’ll have to shed those stupid trivial inhibitions if you want to enjoy your time out here.’

Her terror was subsiding and Alexandra felt more annoyed than anything. Annoyed with herself for giving in to blind panic, and annoyed with him for assuming that because he lived here its ways necessarily had to be acceptable to all.

‘If you imagine you can persuade me to go native, Mr. O’Rourke, you’re mistaken,’ she declared shortly.

His expression was derisive. ‘I wouldn’t dream of suggesting such a thing, Miss Tempest.’ His lips twisted. ‘But don’t make the mistake of thinking that these people would be interested, either way. We may not be as—civilised—as you like to think you are, but at least we don’t have a percentage of the population getting their kicks from leering at lewd books, or getting hot under the collar watching some female take off her clothes! And if you stripped here and now, you’d arouse nothing more than a mild curiosity! Your white skin isn’t at all appealing to them.’

‘I suppose you’re going to tell me that Vasco——’

Declan gave her an impatient look and then nodded to the pilot that they were ready to cast off. ‘Vasco is a mulatto, and as far as I know he has no Indian blood in his veins. Besides, I’ve no doubt he was only trying to frighten you. You’re a little young and inexperienced for his tastes!’

Alexandra clenched her lips tightly together and turned sideways on the plank seat away from him. It seemed that whatever she said he was always able to take control of the conversation. She stared impotently towards the mist rising from the trees on the opposite bank. The mornings could be quite beautiful, but she didn’t appreciate that now. All she could think was that the sooner they reached Paradiablo, and her father, the better she would like it.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_8ca4c8ac-4a5d-5df9-bc57-7e274770bf5b)

AFTER about half an hour Alexandra began to hear the sound of rushing water and her nerve ends tingled as she realised they must be approaching the rapids Vasco had spoken about. Declan O’Rourke had said nothing more to her and had seated himself in the forward part of the boat where he could talk to the Indians. He had lit a cigar and looked completely at his ease. Obviously the rapids held no fears for him.

She sighed. She couldn’t help but envy his composure. Nothing seemed to disconcert him. He was at home here as the Indians themselves. He shared their food, their homes, their conversation. He swam in their rivers with a complete disregard for the dangers of piranhas and alligators, as they did, while she…

She shook her head. It was an unfair comparison. She was English. She had had a comparatively sheltered upbringing. Just because he chose to live in some dank hole in the forest it did not mean that his way was best. Perhaps he had never had the opportunity to do anything else. No doubt her father had a totally different outlook.

Her father!

She cupped her chin in her hands. Surely he wouldn’t be angry with her for making this journey. Surely he would see that she had only done it because she loved him and wanted to be with him, wouldn’t he? She frowned, remembering occasions when as a child she had disobeyed him in the past. He wasn’t always the most even-tempered of men, and it was quite possible that he would demand that she return home to England immediately.

She squared her shoulders. Well, she wasn’t a child now. She was seventeen. She would be eighteen soon. At eighteen one acquired maturity, it was said. So what difference did a few months make?

They inevitably reached that stretch of the river where the water churned and bubbled over ugly black rocks that reared their heads above the spume. Alexandra sat on the edge of her seat, waiting for them to pull over to the side. But they didn’t.

The Indians produced paddles, the engine was switched off, and the boat was manhandled through the swirling torrent. Alexandra held the wooden seat so tightly that the wood bit into her fingers, but she was so intent on their negotiation of the rapids that she scarcely felt the self-inflicted pain. Declan O’Rourke had a paddle, too, and inch by inch they climbed the dangerous hissing cauldron until they finally thrust themselves into the comparatively smooth waters above.

A weak sigh escaped her as the paddles were put away and the engine was re-started, but she saw to her surprise that no one else seemed the least concerned. Declan left the Indians and came back to where she was sitting, looking down at her with mocking eyes.

‘Well?’ he said. ‘Did you enjoy that?’

She made an involuntary gesture. ‘You must know I didn’t.’

‘No? I’d have thought you’d have appreciated the excitement.’

Alexandra brushed an insect off her knee. ‘Santos said—we would have to walk round the rapids.’

‘Did he? Yes, well, that does happen on the longer stretches. This was comparatively simple to negotiate.’ He glanced round. ‘Not much further now,’ he added with satisfaction.

Alexandra clasped her hands. ‘Isn’t it?’ She made a little movement of her shoulders. ‘Thank heavens for that!’

Declan seemed about to say something else and then thought better of it. With another wry raising of his dark eyebrows, he turned and went back to his earlier position.

Towards midday, when the heat was becoming intense again, Declan brought the boat in to the bank. To Alexandra’s inexperienced eyes it seemed that they had reached nowhere in particular. There was not even a landing, only a cleared pathway through the trees. Was Paradiablo to be a clearing in the forest like that hut they had stayed at the night before? Alexandra’s heart sank.

Declan moored the craft and collected his haversack and her cases from the bottom of the boat. The Indians climbed ashore, too, this time and took charge of the heavier luggage. Declan helped Alexandra on to the river-bank and then indicated that she should follow the Indians along the path between the trees. An enormous black bird, about the size of a game bird back home, rose out of the underbrush in front of them, squawking frighteningly, and Alexandra had to be urged onward as her footsteps began to lag.

Presently, however, they emerged into a wide clearing where some attempt at cultivation had been made. There was a small mandioca plantation, and the beginnings of a crop of what might be sweet potatoes, tilled no doubt by the occupants of the collection of huts that edged the forest and who had come out to observe the newcomers. But what attracted Alexandra’s instant attention was not the unexpectedly thriving community, or the remarkably good looks of the children, but a gleaming silver aircraft standing on a mudbaked strip.

She swung round to look at Declan with uncomprehending eyes. ‘Is that—are we to—fly?’

He half smiled. ‘I’m afraid so.’

A faint measure of comprehension came to her. ‘Yesterday—there was an aircraft flying around. Was that you?’