Free A Pride of Lions by Isobel Chace Page B

birds that were rewarding to photograph, though perhaps not quite as exciting as their even more magnificent oriental relations, the birds of paradise.
    Janice looked up from her camera. “Hullo,” she drawled, and pushed her fair hair out of her eyes with one hand. “I hope you were properly flattered by Hugo’s invitation to tea?”
    I laughed. “I was, as a matter of fact,” I said.
    “But you enjoyed it?”
    “I liked his animals,” I hedged.
    Her eyes mocked me. “Is that all? Perhaps that is what Hugo meant—”
    “Meant by what?” I asked indignantly.
    She smiled and shrugged. “He’s the complete bachelor, isn’t he? You know, I wasn’t trying to mislead you by saying that he only allowed me to visit his animals. What I meant was that he feels safe with me. Evidently he feels safe with you too!”
    “Safe?” I repeated.
    “Why not?” she grunted. “You’re not hoping for a less platonic relationship, are you?”
    Her amusement made me blush. “No!” I said faintly.
    She turned her attention to her camera. “I thought not,” she said, a thread of laughter running through her voice. “We’ll have to make do with competing for the attention of Hans Doffnang, where I have to admit you have a head start by being able to speak his language.”
    “Er—yes,” I said, even more faintly.
    “The idea doesn’t appeal to you?” she asked.
    “N—no,” I admitted.
    “Perhaps you prefer Johnny?”
    I gathered together my scattered wits. “I don’t think I’m entering the lists at all,” I said.
    She sighed, smiling with a total friendliness that was very appealing, even to me. “How dull! Never mind, I expect you know best what you’re about. Could you move a little? You’re frightening the birds.”
    I hurried on to my tent and left her to it. I felt oddly deflated by her remarks. The truth was that Hugo Canning filled my horizons whenever I was near to him.
    I could conjure up at will the line of his jaw and the way it sat on his strong, masculine neck. Or the slight flare of his nostrils when he was thinking. Or even the way his eyes crinkled when he looked into the sun. It wasn’t something I had wanted to happen! It even frightened me when I thought about it, how aware I was of every detail of the way he looked, when other, nicer men made little or no impression on me at all.
    Did Janice know that he was a confirmed bachelor? She might have been only guessing, for I was pretty sure that Hugo knew exactly what effect he had on the females with whom he came in contact. And he was far too normal not to enjoy the flutter he caused in many a female breast. But it was disturbing all the same to feel myself plunging deeper and deeper into the mire of his attraction when all it could possibly bring me was heartache and regret. I was not such a fool as to think that Clare deJong was going to bowl him over as easily as he had her!
    On the other hand, I was enough of a fool to dress with particular care for my Sunday treat. I had never seen Johnny’s aeroplane, so I had no idea how big it was, but I was reasonably sure that my tailored trousers and the neat cream shirt that went over them were both suitable and good to look at. I couldn’t see what I looked like very well in the one looking-glass that my tent boasted, but I felt comfortable and I kept telling myself that it didn’t really matter what Hugo thought anyway.
    Johnny had already had his breakfast and was working on the aeroplane when I went along for my own. Only Mr. Doffnang was at the table, avidly reading one of the paperback thrillers he had brought with him. He looked up as I entered and waved a friendly hand.
    “So today you go to count the lions, ja?” he said politely, hardly looking up from the printed page.
    “Yes,” I agreed with barely suppressed excitement. “It couldn’t be a better day for it, could it? Don’t you think the whole world is beautiful today?”
    He gave me a look of sympathy. “Do you like to