Night Of The Condor

‘Only what you ask.’ He put her down on the bed, and came down beside her on the yielding surface, his hands pinning her effortlessly to the mattress. ‘You’re quite right, querida. Why should either of us have to spend the night alone?’

He bent his head, and she felt the shock of his mouth on hers, warm and explicitly demanding. Too demanding. No one had ever kissed her like that before. No one had ever dared …

His lips moved down to her throat, where the little pulse throbbed wildly.

She said breathlessly, ‘Stop this! You must be insane …’ Her voice tailed away in a gasp of shock, as she felt his hand move caressingly at the nape of her neck. Realising what he was doing, she tried to pull away. ‘No!’

But he had already accomplished his task. As she moved, the unfastened halter of her dress came totally loose, and the bodice slipped down, baring her to the waist before she could prevent it.

The topaz eyes burned on her. ‘You’re exquisite,’ he muttered. His hand lifted, cupped one small round breast, his thumb brushing almost lazily across its rosy peak, sending a signal her inexperienced flesh responded to with frightening urgency.

Leigh screamed then, a small high, terrified sound. She flung herself away from him across the wide bed, rolling on to her stomach in a desperate attempt to conceal herself, dragging the bedcover round her body.

‘You’re mad!’ she hurled at him, her voice cracking. ‘Leave me alone—do you hear? Get out of here!’

‘Playing hard to get, querida?’ Shattered as she was, Leigh could hear the thinly veiled mockery in his voice. ‘But there’s no need, and certainly no time. I’ve already told you I have to be off early in the morning.’

He was making no attempt to touch her again. Slowly, Leigh sat up, still clutching the bedcover rigidly against her naked breasts. She looked at him, trying to steady her tumultuous breathing. He was lounging on the bed, very much at his ease. His face was straight, but she could hear the grin in his voice as he said, ‘Don’t be coy, my beautiful Leigh. I can’t make love to you through a coverlet.’

She said on a snarl, ‘You won’t make love to me at all. How dare you lay a finger on me, you swine! Come anywhere near me again, and I’ll have you arrested for rape!’

‘I wonder how you’d get on,’ Rourke said thoughtfully. ‘You invite me up here, for an intimate dinner for two. You persuade me to stay longer than I intend. You tell me a sad story of how long it is since you had a man, and insist I am the only one who can solve your problem.’ He shrugged. ‘I wonder what the authorities would make of that.’

Leigh was almost crying with rage. ‘I didn’t mean that—you know I didn’t! You’ve deliberately chosen to misinterpret my words. All I wanted was …’

‘To go to Atayahuanco,’ he finished for her. ‘But I’ve already told you that’s not possible, and there was no ambiguity in my words,’ he ended grimly. ‘No, Miss Frazier, you miscalculated badly if you thought a few smiles and soft words would change my mind about you. Everything tonight—the food, the wine, that dress—was intended to seduce me, isn’t that so? Well——’ He stretched lithely. ‘You succeeded beyond your wildest dreams. Isn’t that good to know?’

‘It’s totally nauseating.’ Her heart was beating so hard, it was almost painful. ‘Now get out of here. I never want to set eyes on you again.’

He sighed. ‘You disappoint me, querida. I’d hoped you might resort to some rather more potent form of persuasion. You have the body for it. The sight of you, the taste of you has given me an appetite for more.’

She drew a sharp, swift breath. ‘You—actually think I’d sleep with you to get to Atayahuanco? You really are crazy!’

He laughed. ‘Your motives are your own business. I would have only one—to enjoy every delectable inch of you for a few hours.’ He gave her a mocking look. ‘But I still wouldn’t take you to Atayahuanco.’

‘I’d die sooner than have you touch me again,’ she said icily.

He shrugged. ‘There we must differ. Because I think if I touched you—really touched you—you might even start to live.’ He swung himself off the bed, straightening his tie almost casually, and stood looking down on her. ‘But we shall never know, it seems. Buenas noches, Leigh.’

It was a long time before Leigh dared move—long after the closing of the outer door of the suite had signalled his departure.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she clambered stiffly off the bed—half-naked and dishevelled, she was a far cry from the elegant vision she had taken such pride in only an hour or two before. Her face crumpled like a child, and she had to seize on her self-control as her sense of humiliation threatened to overwhelm her.

No one had ever dared treat her so shamefully before, she raged inwardly. And she couldn’t even pretend, for her own comfort, that Rourke Martinez had been either drunk or carried away by passion when he had inflicted this degradation. No, he had known exactly what he was doing. He had deliberately allowed her to create the situation, then turned it against her.

She stripped off the black dress with loathing, and hurled it into a corner of the wardrobe. Well, she never wanted to see that again as long as she lived!

She took a lengthy shower, scouring her body to rid herself of any lingering remnant of his touch. But the scented gel with its alluring, evocative fragrance didn’t really supply the desired effect.

What I really need is a bar of strong carbolic, she thought savagely.

Even when she eventually got into bed, she couldn’t rest. She still seemed to feel the weight of Rourke’s body beside her, over her, crushing her down, his hands reaching for her.

Eventually she sat up, switched on the lamp, and said flatly and aloud, ‘This is ridiculous.’

She supposed she could always summon a maid and have the bed made up with fresh linen, but that might cause comment. So, if sleep was out of the question, she could consider the other options open to her. She dismissed the idea of switching tomorrow to another suite, or even another hotel. There was nothing for her in Lima anyway. She might as well move on. But where?

Going back to England, admitting defeat, was out of the question. Besides, Evan might be in danger, and she couldn’t think about her own comfort and safety in such circumstances.

She had more than one score to settle with Rourke Martinez, she thought bitterly. Undoubtedly, it was his harshness and lack of understanding of Evan’s problems which had driven him away like that.

But she had already, albeit reluctantly, abandoned the idea of trying to get him dismissed from the project because of the way he had treated her. She was uneasily aware that her own conduct had not been above reproach, and that her complaints against him might indeed sound rather thin—as he had implied, damn him. She could—oh God—just imagine her father’s reaction to her story …

No, the best, most dignified thing was to pretend it had never happened—wipe it from her mind completely, although that wouldn’t be so easy when she had to face him again eventually at Atay huanco. Although then she would have Evan beside her, she thought. Even if he had gone off on some crazy hunt for Inca gold, he surely intended to return.

Suddenly she felt cold. She lay back again, tucking the covers round her. If only Evan hadn’t gone off like that, without a word. Why hadn’t he mentioned what he intended in his last letter? If he had stayed at the camp for just a few days longer, he would have got her message. He would have been here with her in Lima, planning their wedding. He might even have been with her now, in this bed, holding her so that she would never be cold or frightened again.

Leigh shifted restlessly. Except that she had never really believed in pre-marital sex. If she wore white for her wedding, she wanted it to mean something, and Evan had acceded to her wishes, with wry resignation.

‘You’re a mass of contradictions, do you know that?’ he had whispered to her, when she had withdrawn gently but firmly from a situation that seemed likely to carry them both away. ‘You’re always so confident, darling, so sure of your place in the world. But underneath it all, you’re really old-fashioned, aren’t you?’

At the time, she had been delighted with his understanding. It had emphasised, she thought, how right they were for each other. But now she wished she hadn’t been so uptight in her attitude.

It should have been Evan’s mouth scorching hers in fierce, sensual demand. It should have been Evan’s hands caressing her naked breasts for the first time. It was Evan’s lovemaking which should have drawn that unquenchable shiver of response from her and not Rourke Martinez’ cynical advances.

Oh, Evan, she thought miserably. Where are you, now that I need you?

She turned over on to her stomach, pillowing her head on her folded arms. Well, let Doctor Rourke Martinez gloat over his sordid little victory. The campagn was not yet over, and somehow—somehow, she was going to Atayahuanco to find Evan.

She could expect no help from Peruvian Quest, she knew, either here or in Cuzco. But she wasn’t short of cash, or initiative. She would take one of the organised tours up to Machu Picchu, then hire someone to take her the rest of the way. Jeep, she remembered the girl Juanita had said, and mule. She grimaced in the darkness. It sounded like hell, but if Rourke Martinez could manage it, she could too. And it would give her the utmost pleasure to see the look on his face when she made it into camp at Atayahuanco.

On that thought, and against all the odds, she fell asleep, smiling.

The mule’s name was Rosita, and she was said to be a family pet, but Leigh didn’t believe a word of it. She was a scrawny animal, with a drooping ear, and a malignant expression in her eyes, and if she had had a choice, Leigh would have wanted no part of her. Only choices, she had discovered over the past few days, were pretty thin on the ground.

The first buoyancy which had started her off on her journey had begun to evaporate rapidly under the sheer pressure of the difficulties she had encountered

There had been no problem in joining an organised tour. The hotel had been happy to arrange it for her, and equally pleased to retain her suite until she returned, because, as she had explained, her plans were fluid.

And although the trip to Cuzco and Machu Picchu had simply been a means to an end, she had to admit she wouldn’t have missed if for the world.

Nothing she had read, no photographs had prepared her for the scale and majesty of the ruins under their twin sheltering peaks. She had spoken glibly to Rourke Martinez about ‘the real Peru’. Now, she felt, she might have made a first faltering contact with its extraordinary and splendid past. And even the fact that sightseeing was strictly regimented hadn’t spoiled it for her. She wished she had been just a tourist, like the others. Wished she could have lingered, spent a night or two in the locality, shopped for souvenirs in the narrow streets and markets of Cuzco. Instead, she had to shop urgently for the things she would need for her trip—warm, practical clothes, a small folding tent, a sleeping-bag and cooking implements.

But there had been setbacks from the beginning. Her first mistake had been to attempt to enlist the help of the tour guide, who had stared at her with open dismay and disapproval as Leigh outlined her plans, and then told her flatly that her schemes were madness. Leigh suspected his main objection would be in returning to Lima with one fewer member of his party than he set out with. Probably looks bad on the records, she thought drily.

But he had certainly done his best to dissuade her. And she was sure she had him to thank for a daunting visit she had received from two policemen.

At least, one of them had been a policemen, uniformed and authoritative. The other man, plump with a drooping moustache and sad, shrewd eyes, could have been anyone. No introductions had been made, and he had left most of the talking to his uniformed companion. But however politely couched, the message was a definite one. Leigh had no proper papers, no authorisation for such a trip. Without the proper authority, no pass could be issued. Without a pass, there could be no guarantee of safety. And even with a pass, a woman, young, beautiful, and alone … Hands were spread, looks were exchanged. Her possible fate was left to her imagination.