‘Aren’t you ever afraid?’ Tamara whispered, shivering suddenly despite the steamy heat of the forest, chilled by some unknown, primitive fear that was purely feminine.
‘Afraid?’ At first she thought he was deriding her, and then she saw the expression in his eyes. ‘Of course I’m bloody well afraid,’ he told her. ‘Every time I go out on a mission; and every time I come back. When you go out you’ve got the adrenalin working for you, but coming back.’ He turned away, his face withdrawn, Tamara forgotten as he said slowly, ‘Coming back is going through hell. You’ve made it—this time, but you’ve always left someone behind; someone so close to you that they’re a piece of your own body, each time you die a little, and this time … You asked me if I’m ever afraid.’ His lips twisted with self-derision. ‘I was shot as we were escaping. If it hadn’t been for two of my men I’d be lying dead in the African jungle with the others. They tell me that while I was in hospital I pleaded with them never to send me back to the jungle. That’s how unafraid I was.’
Tamara couldn’t speak for the lump in her throat, overwhelmed by an urge to go to him and comfort him as though he were a small child, which was ridiculous when she looked at the lean open masculinity of him.
‘That’s one of the reasons I came out here,’ he told her. ‘I wanted to prove to myself that I could face the jungle—and win.’
‘And you have,’ Tamara said quietly.
‘We’re not out yet,’ he advised her. ‘Are you worried now that you know the truth?’
‘No,’ she said honestly. In her own mind there was no doubt that the circumstances Zach had told her about so unemotionally had resulted from the death of his men rather than any fear for his own safety. She was also a little surprised that he had chosen to confide in her—surprised and, more worrying, flattered.
It was dusk before Zach decided that they could stop. They had travelled several miles downstream, forced out of the water when the currents grew too swift for Tamara.
‘We’ll sleep here,’ Zach told her, indicating a spot farther away from the stream than she had anticipated.
‘So that the sound of the water doesn’t drown out the sound of anyone’s approach,’ he explained patiently to her. ‘We can’t risk lighting a fire, but we won’t need one. How do you feel about avocados and bananas for dinner?’ he asked her, nodding towards trees bearing both fruits, adding, ‘At least that’s one thing we don’t have to worry about!’
Tamara enjoyed the fruit, but longed for a drink of water. Zach, however, refused to let her touch any. ‘I know it looks clean, but that doesn’t mean it is. You have no immunity to whatever might be in it, and I can’t afford the added handicap of having you ill.’
Forced to acknowledge the logic of this, she asked Zach if she could at least wash in the stream before going to sleep. Water to wash in had been scarce in the cave, and because of Zach’s proximity and her own inherent modesty she had made do with sketchy ablutions during their incarceration. Now, however, after the sticky heat of their march she longed to feel coolly cleansing water against her skin. They were camped not far away from a deep natural basin which had filled with water to form an oval pool, and ever since she had set eyes on it Tamara had been imagining the luxury of immersing every inch of her body in it. But Zach soon dashed these plans.
‘Go ahead,’ he told her easily. ‘I’ll come with you.’ He didn’t seem to share any of Tamara’s selfconsciousness, simply stripping off his shirt, his back to her, revealing the solidly packed muscle, sheathed in raw silk flesh whose only imperfections were the scars still puckering it where they had yet to heal.
His hands were on his belt buckle when he turned, a subtle sensuality in the look he turned on Tamara.
‘What’s the matter?’ he taunted throatily. ‘Never seen a man undress before?’
The faintly derisive curl of his mouth told her that he thought he knew the answer, and a deep shudder racked her as she forced herself to turn away, knowing that the scarlet colour burning in her cheeks was a sure-fire giveaway. Not until she heard the clean splash of his body hitting the water did she turn, reluctantly abandoning her earlier intention of bathing nude in the still clear water and settling instead for paddling about cagily in the shallows in her bra and briefs, reluctant to risk the deeper water—and Zach.
Without waiting for him to emerge from the water she clambered over the stones worn smooth by the constant action of the pounding water and hurried back to the small clearing where they had left their belongings. She was struggling to ease her still damp body into her sleeping bag when Zach returned, grim-faced, his shirt knotted round his waist, his lips clamped tightly together.
‘Just what the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ he demanded without preamble. ‘This isn’t some children’s outing we’re on. From now on we stick together, do you understand that?’
‘All I did was come straight back here,’ Tamara flashed back. ‘I’m not one of your men, you know. I don’t have to obey your orders!’
‘That’s right,’ he agreed with a pleasantness which immediately alerted her to the very unpleasant gleam in his eyes. ‘You don’t have to, but if you want to stay alive you’d be much wiser if you did. What would you have done, for instance, if you’d got back here and found our friends waiting for you?’
Her face gave her away, even though she struggled to suppress her memories of the morning.
‘Exactly so,’ Zach drawled, letting her know that he knew exactly what was going through her mind. ‘So from now on, you don’t make a move without me knowing about it, understood?’
She hated him, Tamara thought resentfully as she tried to make herself comfortable in the narrow sleeping bag. The earth felt hard beneath her, Zach was breathing easily beside her. Before he climbed into his own sleeping bag Tamara had watched him moving quietly about the clearing. Setting up early warning alarm systems, he had told her grimly, adding that if they were to make steady progress every day they would need to sleep properly at night and the precautions he was taking meant that if anyone approached their camp, the sound of their approach would wake him in time to be ready for their arrival.
‘Simple survival tactics,’ he told her when she marvelled.
Contrary to her expectations she fell asleep almost immediately, worn out by the physical exertion of the day, but it wasn’t a restful sleep, being punctuated by tormenting images dominated by the lascivious grin on the face of the guerrilla as he reached for her body.
‘No!’ The word was wrenched from her lips, bringing her sharply awake to find herself pinioned by steel fingers, the heavy weight of a man’s body pinning her to the ground. Reason was obliterated by primeval panic; the weight of the man above her that of the guerrilla, the scream bubbling in her throat cut off sharply by the hand clamped across her mouth.
‘Tamara!’
The crisp sound brought back reality, and the tension drained out of her body as swiftly as it had seized it.
She shuddered convulsively, her voice husky with emotion. ‘I’m sorry—I was having a nightmare. That man …’ She shuddered again, taken off guard when Zach sat up abruptly, taking her with him so that her head was pillowed against his shoulder, moonlight revealing her expression to him.
‘It bothered you as much as that?’