Temple Of The Moon

There was no doubting the implication in his words and she glared at him.

‘Are you questioning my professional competence?’ she demanded hotly.

‘That’s the least of my concerns.’ He hitched forward a chair, and straddled the seat, his arms folded across the back of the chair. ‘In any case, I shall not be in a position to judge it.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning that you’ll be on the next flight back to Europe from Mexico City as soon as it can be arranged. We’ll cable Vision and if they care to do a hasty re-think and send us a replacement before we leave, all well and good. If not …’ He shrugged.

‘A replacement?’ she echoed dazedly. ‘But why?’

‘I should have thought it would have been obvious even to the meanest intelligence.’ The cool blue eyes went over her from the chic sandals to the scooped neckline of the sleeveless white dress. ‘This assignment is not for a woman, Miss Christow.’

For a stunned moment she looked at him, then she managed a brief, scornful laugh. ‘What kind of absurd prejudice is this, may I ask?’

‘Ask away.’ He produced a cheroot from a case and lit it. ‘It has nothing to do with prejudice—just ordinary common sense. The rain forest is no place for an inexperienced girl. I should have thought your editor would have had more sense.’

Gabrielle shook her head in disbelief. It had been bad enough coming from James, but to come all this way and get the same reception from a complete stranger was almost more than she could bear.

She said coldly, ‘In Britain now women have equal opportunities with men. Legally we can no longer be discriminated against on the grounds of sex.’

‘That’s fine for Britain.’ He drew deeply on the cheroot. ‘But it cuts no ice in the Yucatan—which is where you are, in case you hadn’t noticed. The expedition we’re involved in has dangers and discomforts you’ve never even imagined in your comfortable London office. A man could—just—have made it. But you?’ He spread his hands, his eyes going over her dismissively. ‘No way.’

Gabrielle stood up angrily, ignoring the speculative looks being directed at them from all over the foyer.

‘I should prefer to continue this—discussion somewhere less public,’ she said in a low voice.

‘Willingly.’ His smile lifted the corners of his firm-lipped mouth. ‘My place or yours?’

Gabrielle felt her cheeks redden in spite of herself.

‘Professor Morgan …’ she began in angry protest.

He shook his head. ‘Wrong again, I’m afraid. My name is Lennox—Shaun Lennox. Dennis Morgan is ill—a touch of fever.’

She stared at him, a glimmer of hope appearing on her bleak horizon. ‘You mean you’re not even the leader of the expedition and yet you presume to come here—to give me my marching orders as if …’

‘Yes, I do so presume.’ His brows snapped together. No laughter now. ‘Dennis is not a young man any more and he’s been quite sick. I want to spare him as many minor worries and irritations as possible.’

Gabrielle lifted her chin. ‘I suppose there’s no need to ask which classification I come under. Well, I don’t want to cause Professor Morgan any anxiety either, and I’m quite prepared to wait until he’s well again for his decision.’

‘I can assure you it will be the same as mine.’

‘Perhaps.’ Gabrielle suddenly felt as if she gained the advantage and pressed it home eagerly. ‘But I’d prefer to hear it from his own lips—if you don’t mind,’ she added sweetly.

‘Please yourself,’ he said shortly. ‘I suppose, having come all this way, you’re entitled to a few days’ holiday at Vision’s expense. They probably owe it to you, anyway, having sent you here under false pretences.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ Gabrielle asserted confidently. Then a new and disturbing thought occurred to her. ‘Er—about my accommodation.’

He leaned forward and stubbed out his cheroot in an ash tray. ‘What about it?’

She flushed. ‘Well, I’m booked in here for tonight, but I understood—that is, Martin said that I would be staying at the Institute headquarters—as part of the team.’

She did not add that this assumption had also been based on the fact that she was married to a member of the team as well.

‘An excellent idea—if you’d been the accredited representative we were expecting. As things are, maybe you’d do better to stay here.’

She looked at him, frankly dismayed. ‘But they may not have a vacancy. This is the tourist season, you know.’

‘Yes,’ he said gently, ‘I know.’

His eyes were completely impassive as they met the indignation in hers. Gabrielle controlled herself with an effort and marched over to the reception desk. But the clerk met her halting inquiry with a blank face and a regretful shake of the head. There were no reservations available after that night. The hotel was full and he was unable to recommend anywhere else which might have a vacancy. Merida, he explained with much hand-waving, was full for the season—except for certain places where the señorita would not care to stay.

‘I shouldn’t be too sure,’ Gabrielle commented under her breath.

She walked back to the table, fighting an impulse to throw herself on this Lennox man’s dubious mercy and beg a lodging at the Institute. At the same time, she was deeply concerned by the reaction her arrival had caused. Was it possible that James had kept to himself the fact that the Vision photographer Professor Morgan was expecting was his wife? Was he dissociating himself from her completely. It was a troubling thought and made her position in Merida even more tenuous.

As she approached the table, she saw that Shaun Lennox had risen and was waiting for her, his hands resting lightly on his hips, a faint smile playing about his mouth. It was the smile that decided her. She would sleep in the street rather than ask any favour of him.

She forced an answering smile. ‘That’s settled,’ she said with spurious brightness. She hesitated. ‘Would it be in order for me to at least visit the Institute?’ She indicated the big square case on the floor. ‘Some of my cameras and equipment are valuable, and I’d feel happier if I could get them under lock and key there, rather than leave them in my room.’

He eyed the case expressionlessly. ‘I suppose that can be arranged,’ he said drily. ‘But don’t regard it as a foot in the door.’

She breathed a silent sigh of relief. She was sure she could find somewhere to stay if she no longer had her cameras to worry about. She had brought the minimum of luggage with her, feeling it was better to make up any deficiencies locally if necessary.

Besides, it was only too likely that the first person she came face to face with at the Institute would be James himself, and then her accommodation problem would surely be solved. Even James, she thought, could hardly repudiate his own wife in front of his colleagues without causing the sort of unpleasant scene that he would detest. She noted with a feeling of resignation that she seemed to have abandoned the idea of any kind of welcome from James.

‘Well, let’s go.’ Shaun Lennox’s voice broke impatiently across the depressing trend of her thoughts. ‘I’ve wasted enough time today already. That case is all you need to take, I assume. You’ll need your other luggage with you.’

Gabrielle, who had been searching for an excuse to take her large suitcase along as well, let the idea drop with an inward sigh. She could always, she supposed, tell this forbidding stranger her real identity and have the joy of seeing him eat humble pie over his rudeness to a colleague’s wife, but she was reluctant to do so. It would involve her in all kinds of awkward explanations at this late stage and if these were needed she would prefer to make them to Professor Morgan. But she hoped at the same time that they would not be necessary. James could not just go on ignoring the fact of her presence for ever.

‘Of course,’ she said, disliking him more than she would ever have thought possible.

‘Right, then.’ He glanced rather ostentatiously at his watch and she bent to pick up the heavy case, shifting her shoulder bag to the other side as she did so. It was an awkward movement, rendered even more so by the fact that she caught her sandal heel against the leg of the table and overbalanced, stumbling slightly.

‘So your much vaunted sexual equality doesn’t extend to carrying your own baggage,’ he commented drily, and before she could protest, he had swung the case to his own shoulder. ‘Can you manage now, Miss Christow?’

She glared at him impotently. ‘Thank you—yes.’

But once outside the hotel where a jeep stood waiting, another hazard presented itself. Although the rain had stopped almost as suddenly as it had begun, the street was still more like a miniature river than a highway and Gabrielle halted on the hotel steps with an exclamation of dismay.

‘Come now, Miss Christow. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that Merida is also known as Little Venice—among other things?’ he added with a sardonic curl of his lips.

‘No, they didn’t, Mr Lennox.’ She kept her voice cool. ‘That’s why I’m wearing sandals—not waders.’

Again she had to endure that look of total assessment that seemed to reach her shrinking skin.

‘I’m sure your job requires that you get your facts straight,’ he drawled. ‘It’s Dr Lennox, not Mr. And there’s no need to paddle, as long as you’re prepared to forgo your liberated woman’s principles yet again.’