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Authors: Rosalind Brett
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till she stopped shivering. She felt him, warm and vibrant and strong, smelled toilet soap and recalled, almost hysterically, that he had borrowed hers. And then, like a prolonged electric shock, came the realization that it was heaven to be held and protected in this frightening place ... even by Pete Sternham.
She pushed half-heartedly away from him, said weakly, “ I ’ m sorry. The last time I saw one of those it was in a zoo, and behind wire. ”
He said quietly, “ You ’ ve nothing to apologize for. If I ’ d been able to warn you I ’ d have told you to do just what you did— si t tight and leave things to me. I daren ’ t try anything till it was near enough so that I could be fairly sure of hitting the eyes. The hide wouldn ’ t have felt the heat of those ashes, but the eyes are vulnerable ... ”
“ Please don ’ t talk about it, ” she said tightly. “I’m a fraid I feel ... sick. ”
“ Oh, no—that ’ s just revulsion. Lean back against me and be quiet for a minute. You were great. ”
“ I was simply too terrified to move. ” She felt his hand on her shoulders, persuading her back against him and had just enough strength to resist it. “ No, ” she said, her voice still a bit scratchy with nerves. “ I ’ ll be all right. ”
“ Don ’ t be an idiot . ” He sounded ste rn . “ Just give in for a moment. ”
Because she couldn ’ t control them, her teeth snapped. “ I don ’ t want your arm round me! ”
She felt his reflex action; an instantaneous withdrawal, both physical and mental. From the depths of her heart she wished she had submitted, if only for a minute. But it was too late. He got up and began to stow the tins they had used back into the canoe. She saw his profile as he bent to fold the groundsheet; it looked as it had been carved from teak. The single glimpse she had of his eyes showed them cold and jet-dark.
As Terry got back into her seat in the canoe she knew they had passed through a small crisis which had left behind something as delicate and disturbing as quick motion sensed out of the corner of the eye. Because the subtle complication was the very last thing she had expected upon the journey with Pete, it was almost shattering.
The sun disappeared into a haze above the swamps and for half an hour there was just a soft golden light. Then Pete looked up at a flight of birds, he took his binoculars from the rucksack and used them.
Expressionlessly, he said, “ Those birds mean padi fields, and growing rice means a village. We ’ ll push on till we reach it. ”
On the stroke of six, it seemed, darkness fell. Pete kept on paddling, and within an hour the trees thickened and the river closed in. There were a few empty canoes drawn up among the tree roots, a houseb o at or two, dwellings on stilts and a narrow earth bank where a fire burned and women were preparing the inevitable rice and fish.
The tuan ’ s canoe was hailed with good-humored shouts, and a boy swam out excitedly to grasp the rope. They tied up and stepped ashore, Pete talked to one of the older men, showed his permit, and apparently addressed him with the brand of humor the Malay liked, for there was laughter among the bystanders, hands were waved towards the huddle of high dwellings among the meranti trees.
To Terry, Pete said impersonally, “ This is the last village in Vinan. I ’ ve been offered a house for the night, and told them we ’ ll take it. ”
Without looking at him she asked, “ Will it slow you down? ”
“ Bound to, but i t can ’ t be helped. You need a good night ’ s rest. ”
He was implying, of course, that her nerves needed the sedative of normal sleep. She ought to be grateful to him for trying to keep everything open and safe, but instead she merely felt miserable.
She went with him, following the man who had offered the house. It was the usual grass habitation of one room placed about seven feet above the hot soggy earth. Terry had not entered one
She pushed half-heartedly away from him, said weakly, “ I ’ m sorry. The last time I saw one of those it was in a zoo, and behind wire. ”
He said quietly, “ You ’ ve nothing to apologize for. If I ’ d been able to warn you I ’ d have told you to do just what you did— si t tight and leave things to me. I daren ’ t try anything till it was near enough so that I could be fairly sure of hitting the eyes. The hide wouldn ’ t have felt the heat of those ashes, but the eyes are vulnerable ... ”
“ Please don ’ t talk about it, ” she said tightly. “I’m a fraid I feel ... sick. ”
“ Oh, no—that ’ s just revulsion. Lean back against me and be quiet for a minute. You were great. ”
“ I was simply too terrified to move. ” She felt his hand on her shoulders, persuading her back against him and had just enough strength to resist it. “ No, ” she said, her voice still a bit scratchy with nerves. “ I ’ ll be all right. ”
“ Don ’ t be an idiot . ” He sounded ste rn . “ Just give in for a moment. ”
Because she couldn ’ t control them, her teeth snapped. “ I don ’ t want your arm round me! ”
She felt his reflex action; an instantaneous withdrawal, both physical and mental. From the depths of her heart she wished she had submitted, if only for a minute. But it was too late. He got up and began to stow the tins they had used back into the canoe. She saw his profile as he bent to fold the groundsheet; it looked as it had been carved from teak. The single glimpse she had of his eyes showed them cold and jet-dark.
As Terry got back into her seat in the canoe she knew they had passed through a small crisis which had left behind something as delicate and disturbing as quick motion sensed out of the corner of the eye. Because the subtle complication was the very last thing she had expected upon the journey with Pete, it was almost shattering.
The sun disappeared into a haze above the swamps and for half an hour there was just a soft golden light. Then Pete looked up at a flight of birds, he took his binoculars from the rucksack and used them.
Expressionlessly, he said, “ Those birds mean padi fields, and growing rice means a village. We ’ ll push on till we reach it. ”
On the stroke of six, it seemed, darkness fell. Pete kept on paddling, and within an hour the trees thickened and the river closed in. There were a few empty canoes drawn up among the tree roots, a houseb o at or two, dwellings on stilts and a narrow earth bank where a fire burned and women were preparing the inevitable rice and fish.
The tuan ’ s canoe was hailed with good-humored shouts, and a boy swam out excitedly to grasp the rope. They tied up and stepped ashore, Pete talked to one of the older men, showed his permit, and apparently addressed him with the brand of humor the Malay liked, for there was laughter among the bystanders, hands were waved towards the huddle of high dwellings among the meranti trees.
To Terry, Pete said impersonally, “ This is the last village in Vinan. I ’ ve been offered a house for the night, and told them we ’ ll take it. ”
Without looking at him she asked, “ Will it slow you down? ”
“ Bound to, but i t can ’ t be helped. You need a good night ’ s rest. ”
He was implying, of course, that her nerves needed the sedative of normal sleep. She ought to be grateful to him for trying to keep everything open and safe, but instead she merely felt miserable.
She went with him, following the man who had offered the house. It was the usual grass habitation of one room placed about seven feet above the hot soggy earth. Terry had not entered one
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