Shadow Play (19 page)

He looked at her directly, his eyes reflecting the firelight. "Yeah?" His smile was cold. "What's that, Princess?"

"We're all orphans, so to speak."

"Right." He tossed the wood to the ground and got to his feet. Sarah stared up at his face, then down at the knife gripped in his hand. She didn't care much for the way it shook in his fingers.

As he turned away, Sarah shoved her cup and saucer aside and leapt up. Morgan had crossed the camp before she caught up with him. "I'd like a word with you," she said.

He grabbed his rifle, checked to see if it was loaded. He struck off into the dark, leaving her to glare after him, temper rising. Hands clenched, she followed, jumping debris that had been swept upon the banks by previously swollen waters. The refuse snagged her hem and she was forced to stop and yank the material, so that it gave with a rip. By the time she caught up to Morgan her patience was at its end, her fury too hot to control—though she knew good breeding demanded she do so. But who the hell cared any longer? "Damn you, stop this instant and face me!"

He stopped so suddenly she plowed into him and slipped halfway down his legs before he caught her and dragged her up, plunking her at his feet like some child in the throes of a tantrum. She slapped his hands away and glared at him.

. "I've done my best to understand these brooding silences of yours, but I'm at my wit's end. If anyone should be angry it should be me. I'm the injured party here. It's my family King destroyed. It's my future that's at stake. I've gambled all I have left in the world on the off chance that you can get me to Japura\ and what happens? You try to sneak off in the middle of the night and leave me!" She thumped his shoulder with her fist. "And there you stand, as usual, saying nothing. I cannot even carry on a civilized conversation without you stalking off in a huff."

"Are you finished?"

"No, I am not! I demand to know why you've taken such a dislike to me since we left Santarem."

The night and forest pressed in on them, turning the air to steam and the trees into hulking black forms that might have made her shudder had she been able to concentrate on anything other than Morgan's eyes. But she couldn't—dear God, she couldn't. Suddenly all she could think of was the intensity in that gaze—the same intensity that had goaded him that night on the
Santos
to kiss her so passionately she'd lost all reason. Dear Lord, was that why she had followed him into the dark, alone, unchaperoned? Was she hoping to experience the forbidden thrill, to feel her body crushed against his again? "Well?" she demanded, her voice humiliatingly husky.

Her face was a blur in the darkness, and Morgan thought that if she stood there before "him another three seconds, looking like a disheveled kitten pretending to be a fierce lioness, he would lay down his gun, drag her to the ground, and say to hell with her virginity, Norman, and his own resolution not to rob her of her innocence. He'd done his best to stay away from her, and it hadn't been easy. She was there when he awoke in the morning; her knees were in his back throughout the day; she was there in the night, wrapped up in her netting with her hair spilling over the ground like rosy moonlight. Now she was challenging his willpower again, intentionally this time, and he wasn't certain he could fight it.

"Sarah, get back to camp."

"Not until you talk to me."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. You're the boss lady. Well, boss lady, just what is it you want me to say?"

"Must you always sneer?" she demanded.

He rolled his eyes, thumbed back his hat, and stared off into the night.

"Why do you avoid me?"

"Why should it matter?"

"It doesn't."

He shifted his eyes back to hers. "Then what the hell are we fighting about?"

"I only want to understand, Mr. Kane. You seem more than eager to fraternize with other women—"

"Whores," he snapped, making her mouth shut.
"I fraternize
with whores, Miss St. James. Women of ill repute. Now, unless I've judged you wrong, I don't think you belong in that category."

"Is there some law that says you cannot associate with a respectable woman?" she cried, going up on her toes, so vehement was her frustration.

"Why the devil would a respectable woman
want
to associate with me?" he shouted back, feeling his control slip as the anger welled up inside him so that he began to shake. Lowering his face to hers, he said, "Lady, I don't know what you call men like me back in London, but over here a woman like you wouldn't acknowledge my existence un- less it was after dark and she had an itch between her legs that she wanted me to scratch."

Sarah gasped.

"That's what I am,
chere.
I'm the goddamned
boto.
I'm the man mamas hide their daughters from. I'm the one those same mamas come crawling to when their husbands don't satisfy them in the sack. I'm the one who makes 'em feel pretty and desirable and needed during the long nights, but come sunup, they don't know me."

She backed away as he moved toward her, snapping twigs under his boot heels, his rifle gripped in his hand. "I don't play at lovemaking, Sarah. I don't dally in the dark with flirtatious little girls who want to experiment at being coy.''

⁴
'Oh!" she cried. "I'm doing no such—"

"You hired me to take you to Japura and filch a bunch of rubber seeds so you can sail back to Norman and live happily ever after. Well, that's what I'm doing,
boss
lady. Now get the blazes back to camp and leave me the hell alone!"

She fled; Morgan watched her go, wondering if he had ever wanted to hold her as badly as he did in that moment.

Chapter Nine

Despite the rainstorm beating against the ceiling of trees, and the water running in torrents over the leaves to spill on the travelers' heads, the expedition pushed on, arriving in Manaos just before midnight of the following evening. As Morgan
struggled to tug the canoe up the embankment, the water surged about his knees until he almost stumbled. Cursing, he did his best to see his companions through the rain, then yelled,' 'Get the lady indoors! I'll meet you back here in an hour!"

Hurrying to Sarah's canoe, Kan swept her up in his arms and trudged ashore. Hair and clothes plastered to her body, she glared at Morgan and screamed, "And what do
you
intend to do?''

He ignored her and turned to Henry, barely making out his friend's face in the dark and rain. Taking his arm, he propelled him up the slippery bank so Sarah could not over- hear their conversation. "All right, what now?"

"What do you mean?" Henry yelled back.

"Get rid of her!"

"Get rid of her?"

"I told you: Manaos is as far as she goes!"

"But it's raining. And it's midnight! This isn't George- town. You can't jaunt down to the nearest hotel and rent a room."

"You should've thought about that before you brought her!"

"You're just as much at fault. You could've insisted that she remain in Santarem!"

Removing his hat and wringing it in his hands, Morgan shook his head. "She ain't goin' any further, Longfellow." He slapped the soggy hat back on his head and stared down at Henry through the curtain of rain running off the brim. "Get her settled. As for us, we're leaving here before sun- rise."

"But it's raining. The river will be treacherous!"

"We'll survive."

Henry shook his head. "You're crazy."

"I'd be crazy to stay here! King's men are up and down this stretch of the river constantly. If I'm spotted I won't live to get to Japun. They'll blow my head off. But first they'll torture me. They'll hang me by my feet and cut out my tongue. Do you want that on your conscience, Henry?"

"You know what I think, old man?"

"No, and I don't care!"

"You're in a big hurry to escape something, and it's not King."

Rolling his eyes, Morgan said, "Ah, God. I'm standin' here drownin' and the man wants to turn my head inside out. The deal was, we leave her in Manaos. See that that watchdog chief of hers stays here too. He'll get her back to Santarem. Leave 'em a canoe, a rifle or two, and ammunition, then get your little butt back here, because I'm leavin' before sunup, with or without you!"

He left Henry standing in a puddle of rain and hurried back to the river to help the Indians secure the boats. He had no more than pulled the first canoe out of the river when he was spun around by Sarah. Her face a blur, she shouted, "I'm going nowhere unless you tell me what you intend to do next!"

"I
intend
to get some sleep! Now be a good girl and run along with Henry!"

"No! You've attempted to sneak off and leave me before! I'm going nowhere unless I have your solemn promise that you won't do that again!"

He flung a paddle to the ground and caught her arm, hauled her slipping and stumbling toward the village, ignoring her outraged protests as he searched for shelter, rousing most of Manaos in the process. Eventually Henry, who'd joined the hunt, was directed to a hut on the far side of the village. Morgan and Sarah waited just inside the doorway as Henry fumbled with a box of matches in an attempt to light a tallow candle Kan had produced from a pack of supplies he carried on his back. As the flame leapt to life, barely illuminating the primitive hospice, Morgan said, "Home away from home. What more could you want?"

The group looked around the barren room measuring no more than ten feet in circumference. Rain leaked through the roof, turning most of the dirt floor into mud. Rotting straw and palm leaves had been swept into one corner, filling the enclosure with a damp, disagreeable odor.

"I'll have your trunk brought up," Morgan added. "Get out of those wet clothes and into something dry before you catch your death of cold."

"I'm touched that you care."

He watched her walk toward a small pile of bleached animal bones littering the floor, then she turned back to face him. Her complexion was colorless in the candlelight, and so was her hair. At times, in her fatigue, she seemed almost plain, hardly the ravishing beauty who set continents of men on their aristocratic backsides. Only her eyes, staring at him in hot defiance and suspicion, showed any life at all.

"Where will you be, Morgan?"

The drumming of the rain on the roof grew louder. Standing there in the entry way, the water spraying over his shoulders and back, he stared into her anxious eyes for what seemed an eternity, though in reality it could not have been more than a few seconds. "Sleeping wherever I can find a place dry enough," he replied less emotionally. "I suggest you get your rest as well. The last twelve hours have been hard on us all."

This time as he turned to leave, she grabbed him, one hand clenched about his arm. Beads of rain ran down her cheeks and hesitated at her mouth, and suddenly his need to taste those lips for the last time was as shattering as the thunder above. For the past days, since the night he'd made love to her on the deck of the
Santos,
he'd battled his mind and body's need to sweep her up in his arms and kiss her, just to assure himself that she hadn't felt as good as he remembered, that she had
not
responded with a hungry urgency that belied her demure appearance. But that was dangerous. He might begin to think that maybe it wasn't his notorious reputation that enthralled her so, or the thrill of the forbidden that turned her beautiful eyes the color of green fire.

He yanked his arm away and strode out into the rain.
Don't look back. It could never work. She's in love with another man. She could never care for you, not with your past.
He'd made his decision to confront King, and falling for Sarah would only drastically complicate matters.

"Morgan!"

Lightning ripped the sky and thunder crashed.

"Morgan!"

Grinding out a curse, he stopped, fists clenched and shaking as the storm roiled above him. Sarah ran toward him, freezing at the sight of him standing spread-legged in the path with torrents of water running off the brim of his hat. The dirty and shredded remnants of her once fine clothing did pitifully little to protect her shivering flesh from the downpour. Her hair clung to her face and neck and shoulders like flax. Her eyes were like fire in the night. "Why?" she cried in a voice drowned by the deluge. "Why do you keep running from me?"

"What the hell do you want from me?" he shouted back. "I won't be another one of your conquests, Sarah, so just Turn your drenched little butt around and get back to your hut before it's too late for both of us!"

He turned from her again.

"Coward!" she screamed over the roar of thunder.

He spun around so suddenly he skidded in the mud. Then he was plowing toward her, gasping for air amid the shower of drops driving into his face. She watched him come with a look of horror stamped on her features: fear, shock, regret, and a flash of indecision over whether or not she should turn tail and run as fast as she could to the safety of her hut. She didn't, of course. She was too damned stubborn.

He grabbed her face in one hand, fingers biting into the soft white skin of her jaw, then buried the other in her hair and dragged her head back. Her pale throat was arched and her eyes were unflinching, no longer frightened but glittering with an irony that gave him but a fraction of a second's pause. He kissed her with a passion he had felt few times in his life, grinding his mouth on hers one way, then another, in an attempt to prove

to her that he was not a man to tease, or she would regret it. He would
make
her regret it, by God. She wouldn't forget him any time soon. When she was lying with her lovely legs wrapped around Norman on her wedding night, she would close her bewitching eyes and remember when he had raped her mouth with passion and hate and need...

He invaded her lips with his tongue as he imagined his sex between her beautiful legs. She tasted like rain. She smelled like a woman whose body knew exactly where his preferred to be in that moment.

She squirmed against him and he held her tighter, kissed her harder until he felt a shudder pass through her like a current. Then he shoved her away and waited for the hail of retribution, perhaps the slap across his cheek. Yet nothing came. All she did was blink her eyes dazedly as the rain can down her face.