‘Whatever.’
In the privacy of the tent Julie flung herself down on one of the camp-beds and wondered what she had let herself in for. Apart from the difficulty of the masquerade, she had never imagined anything like this. Had Ian known they would be sleeping under canvas? Had he deliberately misled her? Or had he thought it would be different too?
Throughout the flight from England to Ecuador she had tried to imagine what life in the Galapagos Islands would be like. Nothing had prepared her for camping out on the beach. She actually did not like sleeping under canvas.
When they were young, she and Ian had gone on a camping holiday with their parents and a violent thunderstorm had blown down the tent in the middle of the night. Several dozen frightened cows had come charging through their camp and frightened her even more than the storm. They had never managed to persuade her to sleep under canvas again.
It was a pity, Julie thought now, that she and Ian had not been able to fly out here together. They’d actually had difficulty in getting flights, and in the end he had come out more than a week before her.
She had stayed one night in Ecuador at a hotel in Quito, and had somehow expected things to be equally as civilised here. Perhaps, if she had thought about it properly, she would have realised that it wasn’t possible, that living in a tent was far more practical when it was necessary to move camp from one island to another—except that she hadn’t known they would be moving!
It was hot inside the tent and totally airless, and it was easy to see why most of them had no sides—obviously Cameron had thought that she and Ian needed their privacy!
Eventually she sat up and hugged her knees and looked about her. There was not exactly a lot of room and only one small area to store and hang their clothes. She had brought far too much, most of it totally impractical. When would she ever wear dresses, for instance? And high heels? She had thought they would dine out sometimes, that it wouldn’t be all work and no play. It certainly didn’t look like that now.
She knew that Santa Cruz was the second largest island and the main tourist centre, with the Charles Darwin Research Station stituated here, but she hadn’t really understood how remote their camp was going to be. And she was afraid to imagine what it was going to be like when they went to Vulcan Island. The stress would be intolerable.
Julie pulled off her dress and contemplated slipping into the sea as she desperately needed to cool down. Then the thought that Cameron Storm might be out there watching made her quickly change her mind. She would manage without, for the time being.
She opened her suitcase and tugged out a T-shirt and shorts. She saw no point at all in unpacking if they would shortly be on the move. She fished her comb out of her bag and raked it through her hair, twisting its length into a knot on top of her head which she fixed securely with a few hairpins.
When she ventured outside, Cameron, surprisingly and pleasingly, was nowhere in sight and she was able to wander through the campsite at will. She found the kitchen supplies tent and a stove that was run by Calor gas, which she supposed she was going to have to learn to use.
Intense fury ran through her. She wasn’t the world’s best cook, and it wasn’t a task she particularly enjoyed. If Ian had deliberately let her believe she was cooking only for the three of them, if he had known all along what he was letting her in for, then he would certainly get a piece of her mind.
‘I’m glad you did as you were told.’
Julie turned quickly at the sound of Cameron’s voice. He had come up so quietly behind her that her senses triggered in faint alarm. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked with a frown.
‘Your hair.’
Involuntarily she touched it, tempted to remind him again that she would have done so anyway, but deciding there was no point in provoking further antagonism. This was a very small community—and would be smaller still far too soon! It was best that they maintain some sort of halfway decent relationship.
He looked at her appraisingly and insolently, not missing one inch of her body, starting at the tips of her toes and working his way slowly upwards, pausing to rest on the pert thrust of her breasts before finally meeting her furious hazel eyes.
‘You’re too damned beautiful,’ he growled, and it wasn’t a compliment. ‘I’m not sure that it was a good idea after all; you could prove an unfortunate distraction.’
Julie knew he wasn’t talking about himself. In the short time she had spent in Cameron’s company she had got the impression that he was always in control, always in complete charge of his life, and that no woman, however attractive, would be allowed to intrude.
‘I’m sorry we did not meet when I was in England recently,’ he added.
‘Because then you wouldn’t have insisted that I accompany Ian, is that it?’ she asked crisply. ‘I think you’re being very insulting, Mr Storm, I can assure you I do not have a roving eye. I’m not interested in other men. I’m very happy as things are.’
Before Roger she had had no steady boyfriends. After what had happened to her mother she had always sworn she would never get married. But it had happened, she had fallen in love, and had really thought she had found the ideal man—until Roger’s jealously got the better of him.
He hadn’t been able to bear her to even talk to another man. At first she had been flattered, thought it proved how much he loved her, but when he had accused her of having an affair, when he would not listen when she’d explained that Tod Martin was a lifelong friend of the family and had taken her out for a meal because they hadn’t seen each other for over twelve months, she had ended their relationship.
He had been very acrimonious, and their argument had hurt her deeply, causing her many sleepless nights.
‘Is that so?’ Cameron’s brows rose mockingly, as though he thought otherwise, as though he thought she would have a field day with twenty men to take her choice from. ‘You’re happy with Ian?’
It was the glint in his eye that did it. Why he should have this instant damning opinion of her, she did not know. ‘I am, very much so,’ she told him furiously. ‘What have I done, Mr Storm, to deserve such offensive comments?’
He actually looked amused. ‘You’ve done nothing—yet.’
‘You’re just being prepared?’
‘Something like that,’ he admitted, his lips quirking.
Julie lifted her chin and glared. ‘You will find that I shall do nothing except my work—to the best of my ability. Is that good enough?’
‘I guess it will have to be.’ Their eyes met and challenged, and then, with a sudden, surprising change of subject, he said, ‘Ian is just the person I need to assist me. I am currently documenting the life of the fur seals. They are becoming an endangered species, as he’s probably told you?’
‘Actually no,’ replied Julie. ‘I’ve no idea what sort of work you do.’
He looked suprised, and immediately launched into an explanation. ‘It’s El Niño which is the problem,’ he told her. ‘A warm current which comes at around Christmas-time. It doesn’t normally have too much effect, but once every six or seven years the flow is exceptionally large; rainfall and temperatures soar and all the fish move away. Consequently its catastrophic for life that depends
