Shadow Play (31 page)

"Never again!"

"You don't think so? I'm the man who touched you here." He drew his tongue across her breast, making her tremble. "And here." He slid his hand between her thighs, spreading her legs with his knees as he did so. Then he was releasing himself from his breeches and sliding his body into hers, making her gasp and lift her body in supplication and invitation, despite the fury that inflamed her as hotly as the passion he aroused in her. It was primitive. Mindless. Abandonment and surrender. Perhaps he was magic after all. For out of the desperation and disappointment there sprang a fountain of hope, and need, and a fulfillment that she had never known.

"Sarah, I'll be your hero. Just believe in me. Give me mis chance to prove I'm worth something."

The words faded, and she felt too dazed to comprehend, too confused; her emotions and

thoughts and body were in a turmoil that was as appealing as it was frightening.

"I'll get you your seeds,
chere,
and you and Norman can live happily ever after, if that's what you want..."

"Yes," she murmured, lifting her arms to pull him against her, burying her hands in his hair, then sliding them around his shoulders, holding him so close she could feel the tremor of emotion that passed through him.

She closed her eyes and let her body drift away, into the burning light.

Chapter Fifteen

Morgan was gone by daylight. He disappeared with- out telling anyone he was leaving. Twelve hours later Sarah and Henry sat outside her tent, dreading nightfall. "If he hasn't returned by dark, he's not coming back," she said. "Where could he have gone?"

"Regardless of what you think of him now, Sarah, he would never turn his back on his friends. Not like me. I should never have said those things yesterday morning." Sighing, Henry stood and paced. "I, more than anyone, should've understood him. Morgan's not a bad chap. He's just... confused sometimes. I'm as much at fault about those rumors and myths as he is. It all seemed a lark. Innocent fun. The natives needed to hold on to one of their last superstitions, and it gave Morgan an opportunity to enjoy respect, for a change. That's all he's ever wanted. Life has treated him rather badly. It seems no matter where he turns he meets strife, pain, heartache, and disappointment. I marvel at how his mind and soul can continue to stand up to such torment."

"It doesn't seem fair," Sarah said.

"It isn't fair. It makes me question God every day of my life. I suppose we are destined to face such obstacles; if we deal .with them capably, without veering from what is right and true for us, then we will ultimately triumph. Still, that doesn't make watching my friend suffer any easier."

Sarah smiled. "You're a good friend, Henry."

"Am I? After my tantrum I'm not so sure. I confess that sometimes I have to remind myself just what it is that drives Morgan. Imagine never knowing who your father was, then being abandoned by your mother. Rob a child of a mother's love and what does he have left? Especially if he has already been stripped of his dignity and innocence by some animal like the one who assaulted him. How does a child deal with that? By building himself an imaginary world where he is able to feel a sense of importance and worth. The

problem is, when you're fighting so hard to like yourself, it's difficult to take the time for anyone else. If you have never experienced compassion, how do you know how to show it? If love and kindness have been held back, how does one know how to be kind and love? We learn by example, and although I've done my best for Morgan the last year, I'm afraid I failed him yesterday. Now he's out there somewhere and he may be ill and needing me. If he would only come back, I would never—ever—raise my voice to him again."

At that moment Morgan walked into the camp.

Sarah leapt from her seat.

Henry turned on him and yelled, "You idiot! Where in the name of all Amazonia have you been? Morgan, have you any idea what we've been going through?"

"No." His familiar grin was droll and sarcastic.

Sarah stood to one side, allowing relief to flow through her, acknowledging its magnitude even as it left her weak and trembling, on the verge of tears. Although he appeared exhausted, there was a keenness in his eyes that she had
not seen for days. His stance was strong and his step lithe as he moved across the clearing to her.

"Hello," he said softly, and the memories of their previous night together flooded her in a wave of heat that brought hot color to her cheeks. "I have something for you." He caught her hand and, turning it up, placed a withered pod in her palm.

Kan moved up beside her, appearing guarded. He had been furious at Morgan over his deceptions and just as angry at himself for allowing his "Missy" to become involved in such a swindle. But as he reached out and protectively grabbed the pod from her hand, breaking it open with his fingers and spilling out the brownish-speckled seeds, he let out a grunt of surprise,

"What is it?" Sarah asked.

Kan stooped and retrieved the seeds. His eyes went back to Morgan's, and he said,
"Cau-uchu"

"Cau...?"
Sarah repeated.

"uchu," Morgan finished. "It means weeping wood." He smiled, and the act deepened the grooves of fatigue at each corner of his eyes.
"Chere,
they are the
Hevea brasiliensis
rubber seeds."

The world seem to tip and sway. Grabbing hold of Morgan, she fell against him and,

throwing back her head, searched his haggard face for the truth.' 'Oh, God, Morgan, you're not—"

"Lying? Not on your life, sweetheart. I told you I'd get you there and I have."

Henry joined them, as did the others. "What are you saying, Morgan? That you've found King's plantation?"

"We're standing smack in the middle of it. Those Xavante didn't decide not to kill us because they believed some rain god. It was because we were already within King's realms. They wouldn't have dared risk his anger."

Sarah let loose a scream of elation and threw herself into Morgan's arms, covering his face and throat with kisses and weeping in her excitement. "I knew you could do it. My
darling Morgan, you don't know what this means. You've saved my life, you wonderful man!"

''I guess this means that you're not mad at me anymore?'' Grabbing his face, she kissed him on the mouth, then spun away and danced among the smiling natives. Grinning, Morgan looked askance at an amused Henry. "If this is what she does for three measly seeds, I'd like to see what she'd do if I brought back a pocketful." Henry threw back his head in laughter.

There was definite cause for celebration. The Indians searched far and wide for game and returned with an anteater, which they skinned and roasted over the fire. Kan collected fruit, and Henry manioc. Long after they had feasted and sat about the fire, content and enjoying their sense of accomplishment, Kan took up his flute and filled the hot night air with the poignant, melodious songs of his people. He played until the hour grew late and most of the Indians retired to their pallets. Finally, only Morgan and Sarah and Henry remained.

Henry got to his feet, dusted off his seat and legs, and glanced awkwardly at his friends. "I suppose I'll call it an evening. You're probably wanting some time alone." Morgan frowned and Henry rushed on. "Not to worry. We'll talk later."

Morgan nodded.

"I'll bid you both a good night, then."

Without waiting for a response he faded into the darkness. In a moment his voice drifted to them as he fussed at one of the Indians for taking up too much room on his mat. "Bloody savage, came the words. 'You'd think they were all raised in the jungle."

Sarah and Morgan laughed, then their laughter died as they watched the fire scatter a

spray of embers over the ground. Sarah said, "What happens tomorrow, Morgan?"

Resting on one elbow, he chewed a blade of grass and
shrugged. "The Indians will collect your seeds, then you'll go home."

"How can I thank you for what you've done for me?"

"I haven't done anything except spoil Norman's wed- ding night." He flashed her a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

She didn't say anything for a long while, giving Morgan the opportunity to watch her in silence. Her face was limned in firelight, her expression almost spiritual. Not for the first time, her frailty and vulnerability drove nails of guilt through him. Throughout the past day, when his mind was clear enough to allow him to think coherently, he'd tried to convince himself that he'd taken her virginity to spite her and her aristocratic fiance. By convincing himself that she really didn't mean that much to him, he could accept the fact that it was Norman she loved, and Norman with whom she would live the rest of her life. But that was not the case. He had taken her in a moment of splendid madness.

When she turned her eyes on him, he felt shaken. Some- thing seemed to change direction in him and threatened to weaken the tenuous resolve that had grown in him during his earlier absence.

"Will you come to bed with me?" she asked.

There was a terrible need to hold her, to melt his body into hers, to brand his memory into her mind, yet he shook his head. "No."

Silence. As if paralyzed, she stared into his eyes, her own bright with the same fierce desperation that had plagued him the past weeks. "I see," she said, fingers clasping and unclasping in her lap. "You won't make love to me unless I agree to marry you."

' 'No,
chere,
I simply don't intend to be used any longer— by anyone for any reason."

She turned her head away from him then. She felt lost and so confused. Yet she could not reach out and grasp the one certainty in her life—Morgan's love. While the awful
things he'd revealed about himself before disappearing into the forest had filled her with compassion, they had frightened her too. He was so different from Norman and the world she knew... How could she promise to marry him? He wanted too much. Damn him, he wanted everything.

Sarah climbed to her feet and walked to her tent, pausing at the entrance to look back.

Morgan continued to gaze into the fire, his hat cocked at an angle, the marmoset nestled in his shirt pocket. Its tiny, furry head rested against his heart. "Good night," she said.

"Good night,
chere,"
came the quiet reply.

They spent the following day trudging through the floresta in search of the thousands of
Hevea
seeds her father had felt would be needed for a successful propagation. Hour after hour Sarah hacked at the wild undergrowth as she despaired over her dilemma. While the Indians shimmied up the
Hevea
trunks and shook the limbs so the seed pods rained to the ground, her eyes were on Morgan.

She ached for him. She understood the pain he'd been feeling the past weeks. He wanted her, not just her body but, more importantly, her soul. She had withheld that from him, and as she now suffered his withdrawal from her, she was swallowed by remorse. She could not find the remotest pleasure in their accomplishment, for it was that achievement that would take her back to Norman.

Staring down at the machete in her hand, Sarah almost laughed. Did she actually think she could return to London and step back into the role she had acted before? Playing the innocent sophisticate had been hard enough in the past. How in God's name was she to continue such a farce when everything about her had changed? Norman would never approve. But Morgan would. Morgan had continued to love her despite her tantrums, her depressions, her stumbles. He had desired her when she looked her worst. He had
encouraged her instead of condemning her for her short- comings.

Suddenly she knew she loved him despite his inscrutability and disreputableness, his
rages and shortcomings. Indeed she loved him because of them. They made
him vulnerable and honest and human and far from perfect— everything Norman wasn't.

She decided to tell Morgan her decision after supper. However, he took to his hammock without eating, and within minutes was fast asleep.

Sarah sat on the stump of a tree, picked at her roasted anteater, and gazed into the fire. Henry moved about the clearing, at last stopping to gaze toward the hammock where Morgan was resting.

"Something's wrong," Henry said. "I can't put my finger on it, but Morgan's not right somehow. He hasn't spoken a word to anyone all day. He hasn't eaten..." He shook his head. "I worry about him, Sarah."

She put aside her food and watched as the marmoset dashed to pluck a slice of fruit from the plate. "He asked me to marry him," she said.

"I know. You turned him down."

"But I didn't. I just needed time to consider—"

"Do you love him?"

"I love him," she replied. "Perhaps I didn't realize how much until he admitted his past, and his lies, and I discovered that I couldn't stay angry with him. To be honest, Henry, I haven't been so truthful with you either."

He stopped pacing.

"I didn't come here strictly for those damnable rubber seeds. I came here with the intention of facing King and forcing him to admit that he murdered my father."

"By Jove!" he cried. "Sarah, how in the name of Victoria did you intend to do that?"

"I don't know. I suppose I wasn't being rational. All I could think of was my father's ruined reputation and how it would affect me. I feel horrid about it, Henry. I feel responsible for this entire fiasco. You and Morgan risked your lives to bring me to Japura, just so I could get these seeds and buy my way into a society that no longer holds any special meaning for me. I owe you an apology. "

Henry sat beside her on the ground, his legs crossed, his face oddly chagrined. ,. As long as we are confessing, I suppose you should know the entire truth. In the beginning we had no intention of coming here for the rubber seeds. We only wanted your money to finance the trip to Japura so that we, too, could take revenge on King ... among other things. "

Sarah stared at her friend's profile before saying, "That's why you kept attempting to desert me."

"Yes. "

"I see ... " She took a deep breath and released it as she watched the fire and shadows dance in the dark.