behind him. Swiping a hand across his damp forehead, he turned reluctantly to see who it was. Templar, he guessed; Sean Templar. He might have the same initials as the Leslie Charteris character, but Sean Templar was no saint.
But it wasn’t Sean Templar. To his amazement—and apprehension, he admitted tensely—it was his wife who stood uncertainly in the open doorway. Dammit, he thought, he’d assumed she’d gone home. The impression the psychologist had given him was that both his wife and his parents had left the base.
‘Hi,’ she said, hanging onto the handle of the door as if she was afraid that if she let go of it he’d jump on her. Morgan’s lips twisted. If she only knew. Far from being horny, he was very much afraid he might be impotent. ‘How—how are you?’
The words were clipped and unfamiliar to him. Oh, God, he thought, when would he get used to these polite exchanges again? For the past four years nobody had cared how he was feeling. He’d been expected to obey orders however friendly Mdola might have been.
Fliss hesitated a moment and then, as if realising she couldn’t hover in the doorway indefinitely, stepped cautiously into the room. ‘Did you sleep well?’ she asked, starting as the automatic hinge closed the door behind her, and Morgan had to stifle the desire to ask her why she was here.
‘I slept,’ he said instead, not prepared to go into the reasons why his sleeping habits were not a subject for discussion. The concept of relaxing when the next breath he took might be his last was so alien to him that he’d forgotten how to sleep soundly any more.
‘Good.’
She seemed to accept his answer at face value, her eyes skittering over his guarded face before darting about the room. She was nervous; that was obvious; but he should be grateful that she’d come. After the day before he hadn’t thought she would.
‘Did you?’ he countered, and there was a trace of anxiety in the gaze that sought his face. ‘Sleep well,’ he prompted drily, wishing he knew what she was thinking. If she was concerned about him, why was she looking so blank now?
‘Oh—’ Comprehension dawned and with it a tight smile that thinned her lips. ‘Well, yes. Your parents and I were accommodated in the visitors’ quarters. It was easier not to leave the base because of the—well, because of the press outside. We’re going home later today.’
Alone?
The thought refused to be dislodged, but Morgan determinedly put it to the back of his mind. ‘all,’ he said, trying not to feel aggrieved that he’d been kept in ignorance of their presence. He blew out a breath. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’
He indicated the sofa where he’d been sitting but Fliss chose one of the straight-backed chairs nearer the door. ‘This is fine,’ she said, crossing her legs, and his nerves tightened unfamiliarly at the sight of her slim calves.
The idea that she wanted to stay as far away from him as possible reared its ugly head, but he firmly squashed it down again. If he started thinking like that he’d soon be paranoid. The polite kiss she’d offered him the day before should have warned him that they might have problems taking up where they left off. It wouldn’t do to upset her. He just wanted to get out of here as soon as he possibly could.
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, and Morgan found himself watching her almost hungrily. Not because she was his wife, he assured himself, but simply because she was a woman. There were a few females he’d come into contact with during his captivity but sex for sex’s sake did not attract him.
His mouth felt dry. Even now, it was hard to believe she wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. For so long, he’d been forced to banish his memories of her to his dreams. But she was here now; she was real; and the knowledge was like a surge of pure adrenaline in his veins.
She looked so good. The long black skirt covered her knees, unfortunately, but the neat little vest she wore with it accentuated the narrowness of her waist and the fullness of her breasts. A scarlet shirt and black slouch boots completed her ensemble, the collar of her shirt a perfect foil for her dark hair...
Aware that he’d been staring and that Fliss was waiting rather apprehensively for him to say something else, Morgan pulled the chair nearest to her away from the wall and straddled it. He noticed she moved her foot aside to avoid brushing his trouser leg, but although he didn’t like it he pretended not to notice and, folding his arms over the back of the chair, he regarded her without hostility.
‘Alone, at last,’ he said, not without some irony, and then wished he hadn’t when she immediately drew back. But he had to go on, and, fixing a smile on his lips, he regarded her encouragingly. ‘I was beginning to think you were afraid to be alone with me.’
‘No—’ She seemed to make the denial involuntarily, and then hurriedly tried to repair the damage. ‘That is—your parents thought it would be easier—for you—’ she made the insertion hastily ‘—that way.’
‘Did they?’ Morgan’s mouth twisted. ‘I assume you mean my mother. She seemed to do most of the talking, as I recall.’
‘She was—excited,’ said Fliss awkwardly. ‘It’s not every day a son returns from the dead.’
‘Or a husband,’ murmured Morgan wryly, and she offered a rueful smile.
‘You’ve shaved,’ she said, as if she’d just noticed, and Morgan wondered what was going on behind that smooth pale mask. Was she pleased to see him? How was he supposed to know? As yet, she hadn’t said anything to give him a clue.
Rubbing a hand over his jawline. he decided to take the initiative, and instead of answering her he said softly, ‘It wasn’t my fault.’ She looked startled then, and he continued, ‘The ambush, I mean. There was no way I could let you know I was alive.’
Her eyes sought his then, and as if his words had offended her now she gave him a disbelieving stare. ‘No way?’ she said, through tight lips. ‘Yes, the authorities told your father that. They also said you’d known President Mdola. That you’d been working with him for the past four years.’
Morgan sighed. ‘Not with. for.’
‘Is there a difference?’
‘I think so.’ He drew a breath. ‘And it wasn’t quite as cosy as it sounds. He needed the knowledge I had of tactical weapons, just as Ungave did, only in a different way—’
‘Yes, you helped him to murder innocent women and children,’ cried Fliss fiercely. ‘And after all you’d said about saving lives!’
Morgan blew out a breath. ‘I was a prisoner, Fliss. Whatever you may have heard, whatever lies you may have been told, I was a prisoner, just like anyone else. Maybe knowing Julius saved my life. I suppose I’ll never know. But once I’d seen where their headquarters was, once I’d examined their weapons, there was no way they could let me go.’
Fliss quivered. ‘If you say so.’
‘I do say so.’
‘And you couldn’t even use the phone?’
‘The phone?’ Morgan snorted. ‘What phone? There aren’t any phones in the jungle. And they had more sense than to let me near their radio transmitter. Get real, Fliss. I’m sorry, but there was nothing I could do.’
Fliss
