Free Flame of Diablo by Sara Craven Page A

surely there would at least
    be a tub and some water so that she
    could have a bath. Perhaps you never
    realised how beguiling the ordinary
    comforts of life could seem until you
    were separated from them for a time, she
    thought.
    But there was no sign of habitation
    anywhere round as far as she could see,
    no telltale drift of smoke, and if any eyes
    watched them pass from behind the tall
    waving green fronds, then they were not
    human eyes, and Rachel was angry at the
    wave of unease which washed over her
    at the thought. She was tired, that was
    all. It was proving to be a long day in the
    saddle with only that one break at noon
    — and she hadn't slept well the previous
    night either. Her mouth tightened in
    irritation. Wasn't it enough that she was
    out here on this forest path surrounded
    by predators? Did she really have to be
    reminded of that other black-clad, one-
    eyed predator back in Asuncion waiting
    to draw gullible tourists into his net?—
    and there would be plenty who would be
    quite willing to be so drawn, she found
    herself thinking with an odd bitterness.
    The woman from the States who had
    come back simply to be alone with him
    for a while would not be the only one by
    any means. For a moment or two she
    found herself brooding on the thought,
    then she gave herself a little shake of
    irritation. What on earth was the matter
    with her? she scolded herself. So he'd
    kissed her. It had been a gesture, that
    was all, to appease his male vanity, and
    the fact that she had succumbed to his
    kiss in a moment of weakness altered
    nothing. If he kept any kind of record of
    his adventures, she would be marked
    down as the one that got away. It was an
    amusing thought, yet it was not capable
    of bringing even a glimmer of a reluctant
    smile to her lips.
    She didn't want to laugh about it, she
    told herself vehemently. She just wanted
    to drive the whole incident from her
    mind. Vitas de Mendoza had no place
    there, or shouldn't have anyway. She had
    too much else to think about and worry
    over. For one thing, she had no idea how
    her grandfather was. For all she knew
    the improvement in his condition which
    had so encouraged her before she left for
    Bogota might have been a temporary
    thing.
    It was ludicrous to think that she had
    envisaged being on her way back to
    England by now with Mark safely in
    tow. And at the back of her mind all the
    time was the nagging fear that this
    preposterous journey she had embarked
    on might be a wild goose chase after all,
    that saner counsels might have prevailed
    with Mark and he might have abandoned
    all idea of going anywhere near the
    Diablo mine. He might well be a
    thousand miles away at this moment
    while she was being bitten alive by
    insects and frightened out of her wits
    every time the bushes rustled. People
    who said that the world of the theatre
    was a jungle had obviously never
    experienced the real thing, she decided
    ruefully.
    It was getting late, she realised
    suddenly. It was no cooler, but the sun
    was dipping down over the trees. She
    stared round in vain for some sign of life
    —a coffee or banana plantation, or a
    forestry service cabana, but there was
    nothing, and the forest was forbidding
    enough in daytime. If darkness fell
    before they reached their destination, she
    would probably end up a gibbering
    lunatic.
    In the distance she could hear a familiar
    sound—the lap of running water. Her
    tired
    sticky
    body
    tensed
    with
    anticipation and she leaned forward in
    the saddle, trying to peer through the
    encircling undergrowth to see where the
    noise was coming from. Carlos had
    turned and he shouted something back to
    her over his shoulder—the first words
    he had uttered in several hours, she
    thought. She couldn't catch the exact drift
    of what he had said, but she lifted a hand
    in response and saw him urge his horse
    forward, apparently satisfied. Perhaps
    he was telling her there was shelter just
    ahead, she thought longingly. A drink
    and