Miss Tempest. Vasco will vouch for that, I am sure. I live—some distance up-river.’
Declan O’Rourke!
Alexandra felt more than ever confused. Apart from the pale blue eyes between the thick black lashes there was little to indicate his Irish heritage.
‘But——’ She sought for words. ‘How did you know where to find me? And how did you know I was here?’
‘Explanations of that sort can wait.’ He glanced round at Vasco’s expectant face. ‘I will escort Miss Tempest from here. You can go back to Los Hermanos and tell Santos——’
‘No! I mean—wait!’ Alexandra bit her lower lip hard. ‘How do I know who you are? I mean, you can’t just come along and—and take me over!’
‘Would you rather stay with Vasco?’ O’Rourke’s eyes were mocking. ‘Did I misunderstand that scene I interrupted?’
‘No, no, of course you didn’t.’ Alexandra wrung her hands. ‘But—but you can’t expect me to go with you just like that—without any kind of an explanation.’
‘I’m afraid you don’t have much choice, Miss Tempest,’ he returned politely, and she stared impotently at the sweat-stained shoulders of his shirt as he turned away.
Vasco sidled up to him and said something in an undertone and Alexandra wished desperately that she understood Portuguese. She had no liking for Vasco, nor any real trust, but he had brought her this far. How was she to be sure that this man O’Rourke was not some kind of thief or adventurer who, the minute they were out of Vasco’s sight, would ditch her and take what little money and possessions she had brought with her. Her fingers encountered the narrow gold watch on her wrist. Her father had bought it for her sixteenth birthday just over a year ago, and it was insured for almost two hundred pounds. It, at least, was worth stealing. Perhaps even Vasco was in league with him. Perhaps this was some crooked sort of deal they had cooked up between them.
Declan O’Rourke was beginning to manhandle her suitcases into the other boat and his actions inspired retaliation. She rushed forward and grasped his arm, preventing him from slinging over the pigskin holdall that contained her heavier clothes. His flesh was hard and warm beneath her fingers, and there were hairs on his arm that roughened the skin. This close she could smell the heat of his body, but it was not an unpleasant smell, and the aroma of tobacco still lingered about him.
He was turning at the moment she grabbed his arm and his elbow caught her in the rib-cage so that she gasped and released him, collapsing awkwardly on to the pile of blankets.
‘I’m sorry.’ There was a faint smile on his face as he hauled her to her feet at once, making sure she was not hurt by holding her for a moment until she drew free of him. ‘That was careless of me. I’m sure you want to help, but I can manage.’
Alexandra glared at him frustratedly. ‘You know perfectly well that was not my intention!’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh—this is ridiculous! What are you doing with my belongings? What do you intend to do with me?’
Declan O’Rourke regarded her mockingly. ‘You really don’t trust anyone, do you?’
‘I haven’t had much encouragement!’ retorted Alexandra unsteadily, her momentary anger dissipating beneath other anxieties.
‘Very well. I—heard—there was a young woman waiting at Los Hermanos, waiting to come to Paradiablo.’
‘How did you hear that?’
‘You would call it a—grapevine, I think. We have quite an efficient one, believe me.’
‘Senhor O’Rourke lives at Paradiablo,’ put in Vasco, and was silenced by a piercing look from those chilling blue eyes.
‘I see.’ Alexandra was trying to make sense of this. ‘Do you know my father, Mr. O’Rourke?’
‘Professor Tempest? Yes, I know him.’
Alexandra breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Then you know he is at Paradiablo, too.’
‘Professor Tempest has been working at Paradiablo for several months, yes.’
Alexandra’s warm mouth curved into a smile. ‘Thank heavens for that! Oh—does he know I’m here, too?’
‘No.’ Declan O’Rourke sounded quite definite about that. He bent and completed his transference of her belongings to the other boat. Then he straightened. ‘I presume you are prepared to come with me now?’
Alexandra hesitated. ‘But I thought—oughtn’t we to stay here overnight? Vasco said something about—rapids?’
Declan O’Rourke cast a wry glance in Vasco’s direction. ‘Did he? Yes—well, there are rapids further upstream, but we will not be negotiating them this evening.’
Alexandra frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘You will.’ Declan O’Rourke indicated his boat. ‘Do you need any assistance to climb across?’
Alexandra shook her head and then looked uncomfortably towards Vasco. How did he feel about losing his passenger?
‘Er—how much—how much do I owe you?’ she began.
‘I’ll attend to that.’
Declan O’Rourke spoke before Vasco’s greedy little mouth could voice a figure, and Alexandra had no choice but to leave him to it. She scrambled over into the adjoining boat, flinching away from the Indian hands which reached to help her, and standing rather uneasily in the well of the vessel watching the two men complete their business. She was still not entirely convinced that she was doing the right thing. There were still a lot of questions left unanswered. But she had made her decision and she had no choice but to stick to it.
A few moments later, Declan O’Rourke vaulted back into his own boat again and with a raised hand to Vasco he nodded to his Indian pilot and they began to move away. In no time at all the darkness had sucked them into its waiting void and Alexandra hugged herself closely, huddled on the plank seat, wondering what on earth her father was going to say when she saw him. She had the uneasy conviction that he was not going to be at all pleased.
Declan O’Rourke did not speak to her as the small vessel moved steadily upstream and apart from an occasional word between him and the Indian pilot the only sounds were the slapping movements of the water against the bows of the boat.
They travelled for perhaps half an hour and then Alexandra realised they were pulling across to the bank. Her nerves tightened. What now? Was this where they were going to abandon her—to be eaten alive by alligators or crushed to death by the giant anaconda of her nightmares?
The boat crunched against the spongy roots of dead undergrowth, and Declan O’Rourke sprang across on to marshy ground and secured a rope. Then he came back to where Alexandra was sitting and said:
‘Have you got boots?’ in a curt, uncompromising tone.
Alexandra blinked. ‘Boots? Oh—yes, of course.’
‘Put them on then. We’re going ashore.’
‘Ashore?’
