a devil. Worse'n a devil. You got no idea what he'd do to a woman like you— to any woman, but especially to one as beautiful as you."
"But you'll be there to protect me, Mr. Kane."
"You gotta be jokin'. Even if we survived the journey into Japura\ we'd never survive King."
"Rubbish. If we are adequately armed and prepared, I see no reason why we cannot succeed."
Closing his eyes, praying for patience, he replied as if reasoning with a belligerent child. "If we survived the jungle. If. Lady, you got any idea what's waitin' for you out there?" He jerked a strand of tiny fish teeth from a peg on the wall and threw them on the counter. "Piranhas. They eat the flesh off people in a matter of seconds." He grabbed a snake skin and tossed it at her, so she was forced to jump aside. "That one was only six feet long. Wait till one of those sons-a-bitches measuring thirty feet comes sailing at you out of a tree, intent on swallowing you whole. First he'll slam you in the head and knock you unconscious. Then he'll crush every bone in your body."
Feeling the blood drain from her face, she backed away as the American came out from behind the counter, sweeping up the anaconda skin and wrapping it around his hand until all that was left was the broad flat edge where the head had once been. He waved it beneath her nose as he said, "Once you're crushed to a pulp, he spits a lot of slime and saliva over your head before swallowing. Hopefully by that point you're already dead. If not, the last thing you're gonna see is several rows of teeth..."
She gasped.
"And that's a lot nicer than what King would do to you. He'd have you on your knees praying for death by the time he'd finished—he and his two dozen matteiros and seringueros, who are more accustomed to screwing monkeys and one another than they are women."
She slapped him, yet he hardly flinched. His eyes were hot and piercing and slightly wild. He grabbed her, fingers digging into her arms as he lifted her to her toes. From the corner of her eye she saw Kan step forward, then hesitate, and not for the first time she cursed the power the American wielded over all the Indians of British Guiana. She cursed, too,
the effect he had on her own senses. She felt weakened by his presence. His hands felt oddly caressing, even as he gripped her in anger.
"You little fool," he said softly. "You're gonna get yourself killed."
"That is a chance I'll have to take, Mr. Kane. Please understand. Without your help I'll lose everything: my home, what little money my father left me... my fiancé?”
She stopped, blushing painfully, and bit her lip, ashamed she had stooped so low as to plead, frustrated even more by the confusing desire to throw herself into his arms. She suddenly ached so badly for compassion she felt as if she would collapse.
She turned her head in an attempt to hide the tears spilling from her eyes. Gradually he released her and cupped one hand against her cheek, gently turning her face back to his. His mouth, no longer surly or angry, carried a hint of a smile. The effect was staggering—like an unexpected punch that left her breathless. She felt herself falling unwillingly under his spell, forgetting her father, even her fiance, whose presence had never, ever affected her in this way. The cacophony of noises around them dimmed as she waited for his next move. God help her, but even if he kissed her here, before a bazaar full of people, she wouldn't care.
"Chere." He brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "Are you telling me that this fiance'—mis Norman—would love you less if you were poor?"
"Yes," she replied, her voice breaking the tiniest bit.
Kane's dark brows drew together. "What the hell kind of love is that, Princess?"
She didn't respond and finally he released her.
As Sarah waited in anticipation for the American's reply, she was shoved from behind by an overzealous marketer of squirrel monkeys. The bamboo cage balanced on the man's stooped back came
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley