Tiger Sky Read online

  Tiger Sky by Rose Elver

  Young Selina Roxley was both frightened and nauseated by her stepmother's attempts to marry her off to her unattractive brother; and when things reached an unbearable pitch Selina ran away—in, of all places, the foothills of the Himalayas where they had forced her to go with them. She was rescued from her predicament by the masterful Luke van Meer, who was on an expedition in the neighbourhood and who took her under his wing until they both got back to civilisation. It was an unorthodox situation to say the least, but Selina knew instinctively that she could trust Luke implicitly. But could she trust herself?

  Printed in Great Britain

  Another book you will enjoy by ROSE ELVER

  GOLDEN APPLES

  Vere was in London for a purpose : to see if she could find her long-lost twin sister. That was problem enough — she didn't really need the added complication of falling in love with Gavin Ingham, who thought of her as nothing but a troublesome child !

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the Author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the Author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

  The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  First published 1978

  This edition 1980

  © Rose Elver 1978

  ISBN 0 263 73296 6

  CHAPTER ONE

  SELINA ROXLEY recovered consciousness slowly. She felt hot ... so hot ... and there was a dull, bruised ache all over her body ....

  She groaned as she became aware of the sun beating down on her like a powerful white light burning red through her closed eyelids and scorching the skin of her face. Her right arm was flung out to one side and she could feel stubby new turf beneath her fingers, but her left arm appeared to be wedged awkwardly under her. Moving in slow motion, she raised her free arm to shield her eyes, and lifted her heavy eyelids.

  She was in a small clearing surrounded by a sea of waving elephant grass; lying partially on her back with the lower part of her body twisted over from the waist down, as if she had stumbled and collapsed clumsily and made a futile attempt to get up before losing consciousness. Beyond the thick, towering grasses mountain peaks hung on the horizon, a jagged, purplish mirage against the hazy sky. A drifting speck overhead lowered into the circling wing-span of a vulture or a marauding kite hawk leading her eye to the dense treetops of the jungle in the distance.

  Selina closed her eyes and groaned again. The weight of her arm on her forehead was painful; she shifted it slightly and found the touchy spot—lumpy, tender, probably a bruise. Where was she?

  And how long had she been lying like this? she wondered dazedly, making an effort to remember what had happened and why she was here at all.

  It was some minutes before it began to come back to her, long minutes while she was overcome by nausea, and sweat beaded her lips and ran down under her arms, and the buzzing of flies merged with the buzz in her head.

  She was in the Corbett nature reserve in the Himalayan foothills: somewhere in hundreds of square miles of forest and scrub jungle. She had despaired of escaping from the clutches of her stepmother, Delia, and the repulsive, frighteningly persistent attentions of the man Delia was quite determined she should marry. But she seemed to have succeeded, because she was entirely alone.

  So much was clear—the rest surfaced slowly from her fuddled memory.

  It had been Henry Spencer's idea that they should spend the chilly, blustery months of English spring weather abroad; he, she, and his sister Delia, petite and soignee and ceaselessly watchful, to keep an eye on her. He had offered a Mediterranean cruise, then a cruise on a yacht in the warm Caribbean, but in spite of Delia's nagging and threats, Selina had flatly refused. Undaunted, his large black, curiously expressionless eyes fixed on her with hypnotic insistence, Henry had then suggested a trip to 'India, to one of the national game parks, and Selina had rather foolishly given in. Delia, with a swift, knowing smile at him, had been satisfied.

  As the preparations went ahead Selina had had her doubts, but she was weary of resisting the two of them and it promised to be a distraction, a respite.

  She had seen films of African safari parks and had visualised the travelling, the wildlife, the evenings sitting around a camp fire while a weather beaten game warden recounted amusing or exciting stories of his experiences. India would offer the same sort of vast, open-air environment, but with a different, unfamiliar landscape. She wondered how Delia would stand up to the lack of amenities and shrugged the thought aside. She, Selina, would revel in it. And she would be free, not cooped up with Henry and Delia most of the time as she would have been on a yacht. As she always was even in her own home.

  It began well, but hadn't worked out that way. Henry had hired a limousine to be at their disposal on arrival in Delhi, and for a couple of days Selina had been lulled off her guard in the pleasures of sightseeing around that historic city with its intriguing mixture of Western modernity and the smells, sounds and vigorous bazaar-bustle of the East.

  They had cruised along the spacious thoroughfares of New Delhi, seen the President's palace and gardens, the grandiose public buildings and sweeping circular colonnades of the -central legislature. They had visited the Lal Keela, an ancient fortress with massive red walls and ornamental marble pavilions in one of which had once stood the legendary jewelled Peacock Throne of the Moghal emperors. They had explored the exotic little shops in the street market called Chandni Chauk, then driven south to gaze up at the seven-hundred-year-old Kutb Minar, a remarkable free-standing tower of red sandstone and marble soaring into the sky.

  Selina was enthralled by it all, old and new, and noting that her usually haughty withdrawn manner

  had changed to sparkling enthusiasm, Henry had eyed her with silent satisfaction. Later that evening, as they had dined in their expensive hotel, he had promised a special trip to Agra, on their return from the nature reserve, to see the matchless beauty of the domes and minarets of the Taj Mahal.

  The following morning they had set out to drive across the northern plains towards the Himalayas, the three of them in the limousine followed by a jeep hauling a trailer to transport the Indian servants and the quantities of food and baggage Henry had considered necessary to make their holiday in the nature reserve 'reasonably civilised', as he had put it ... which, as far as Selina was concerned, seemed to defeat the whole purpose of a jungle safari.

  However, she had had no serious qualms as the miles swept by, being too absorbed in glimpses of the harsh simplicity of Indian village life, the convoys of lumbering bullock-carts, the smell of dust and the bleached glare from a cloudless sky on the browns, greens, ochre and saffron yellow of a timeless limitless land. -They had crossed the rippling grey expanse of the river Ganges, then on to the teeming industrial town of Moradabad from where they had branched off on the route to Ramnagar.

  As they entered the nature reserve along one of the lesser, fair-weather roads, civilisation melted away in shadowy sal forests, heavy jungle thickets and stretches of tall, elephant grass, and by the time they had arrived at a rest-house, some thirty miles from Ramnagar, the sense of isolation had been complete. Henry had booked the place exclusively.

  Selina shut her eyes tight and pressed her knuckles

  to her trembling mouth. What a fool she had been! Too late she had realised that this rest-house was the end of the line for her. She had been duped; she was a prisoner again, as Henry and Delia had intended. Cut off from all contacts now.

  Apart from a singularly unsuccessful early-morning jaunt perched up on the back of a tame elephant, to try and see some wildlife, there had been no suggestion of camping or trekking or visiting another jungle rest-house in the reserve. Delia had explained, in a die-away voice as she lay back in a cane chair and fanned herself languidly, that she really didn't feel at all well; and when Selina had icily suggested that they should return to England, the woman had reminded her in a sharp voice of the money she and Henry had already spent on her. And that the least Selina could do was to cooperate by going on short expeditions with him and keeping him happy.

  But Selina had no intention of going alone with Henry, whose black basilisk eyes and clammy touch made her flesh creep; and he had no intention of allowing her to go exploring on her own either. She was not even allowed beyond the compound because of the possible danger from a wandering tiger or wild elephants and for three days she had fretted at the inaction, tired of trying to elude Henry and humiliated by the thought of having been trapped so easily, her mind busy with various hare-brained ideas for escaping the merciless pressures he and Delia were putting on her.

  Then what seemed to be a more practical notion occurred to hen There had been a railhead at Ramnagar, where they came into the reserve, and if she

  could somehow purloin the jeep and get away on the Ramnagar road it would not be long before she could board a train, find her
way to Delhi and fly home. Henry had obviously instructed the Indian servants to keep an eye on her and the cars in the daytime, and her only hope was to bribe one of them lavishly to help her at night.

  It had been easier than she expected; the rustle of ten-rupee notes from her store of currency and travellers' cheques had persuaded one of the servants to push the jeep silently down the track from the rest-house in the small hours of the morning; then she had thrown a few clothes and essentials, her money and passport into a light case and crept out into the eerie dawn to find the jeep.

  There was no alternative but to trust the servant, and he had been there, waiting by the jeep. He had pointed out in broken English and with many gestures the direction of the motor road, pocketed the money she had promised him and vanished in, the shadows. She had sighed with relief at finding the ignition key in place, switched on and shot off along jungle track at breakneck speed, tense with fright and a feeling of desperation.

  Small wonder that it had ended disastrously in an accident, Selina acknowledged wryly to herself as she released her left arm and flexed her fingers tentatively. So much tension and uncertainty, and fear of the deep, brooding jungle shrouded in half-light. It had been an unnerving experience, foot down hard on the accelerator as she raced against time and against the panic that gripped her whenever she heard the cry of some prowling creature disturbed by the noise of the jeep.

  She could remember emerging from the track, swinging on to the road and careering along with reckless abandon. Every now and then she had cast a glance over her shoulder expecting to see Henry's car burning up her trail. As the luminous dawn-light spread, she could remember thinking that there should only be a few more miles to go to make sure. of her freedom, and yet being vaguely disturbed by the fact that the rough road seemed to be climbing slightly instead of levelling down.

  And then, in a couple of crazy seconds, it had happened ... a careless glance back just as a herd of spotted deer broke from cover almost under the front wheels of the jeep. She had swerved and braked, and felt the jolting impact against her head. She had spent some time slumped over the wheel, her mind a blank until it was filled with the urgency to get out of the vehicle and hide ... somewhere ... anywhere.

  Clutching her reeling head and dragging her feet, she had pushed and stumbled, her way through thickets and banks of thick elephant grass until she found herself staggering around a small clearing of burnt-out stubble. The urgency drained out of her, the effort had been too much; there was a dull pain in her knees as she fell on them and pitched forward.

  And now ... Selina moaned and wiped the sweat from her upper lip with a shaky hand ... she was stranded, and in pain, and only God and the hot sun overhead knew exactly where she was Moving warily; testing her muscles, she was relieved to discover that her body and limbs appeared to be functioning normally. Except for a splitting headache,

  some bruises and red-raw scratches, she was capable of getting back to the road—if she could find the way. But driving on, going to Delhi, was beyond hope.

  If she could get as far as the jeep and wait they would come and pick her up before long. Henry would have set off after her as soon as her disappearance became known when a servant took in her chota hazri, the 'little breakfast' of tea and toast served early in the morning. Yes, Henry would be there, fixing her with his unblinking, reptilian eyes, telling her how foolish and headstrong she was in a soft, cultured voice which always chilled her with its–menacing insincerity; and Delia would probably be there too,' bottling up her stinging accusations and reproaches until they had returned to the confines of the rest-house.

  Selina covered her eyes again and swallowed convulsively, her mouth dry at the thought of facing them and brazening it out. After this abortive escapade the pressure, would probably become intolerable, making it impossible to keep up a front of cool, haughty resistance. They would remove her passport and money. And there would be more brutal reprisals in store for trying to thwart their plans for her.

  Well, it was all up with her now ... or was it? The sun was so high!

  Selina lifted her arm, squinting against the sun to look at the watch on her wrist. It was unbroken and the hands showed that it was close on noon. Eight hours! Eight hours since she had escaped from the rest-house, and at least five hours since they would have found her missing. Another hour or two to

  come upon the abandoned jeep and search around for her....

  Surely they should have located her by now? She could hardly have strayed that far from the road, not in the dazed state she was in. Why hadn't they caught up with her yet?

  Puzzled, she creased her brow, and winced at the bruise, but a faint renewal of optimism stirred the dreadful lethargy weighing her down. Perhaps there was still a chance of freedom if she made it back to the jeep. And provided that the little runabout wasn't damaged, and she had enough strength left to handle it for a few miles ... a few more miles....

  made an attempt to sit up and failed, shutting her teeth tight on the nausea and disappointment. Why hadn't they come to fetch her? she thought querulously. The way she was feeling even Henry would be better than this utter helplessness. What would she do if nobody came? It would get worse as the hours passed, and after dark —what would she do then? There were roaming animals—she had forgotten about the animals—and hook-tailed scorpions, and worst of all snakes, deadly snakes. They were all around her row. She was sure of it. She could sense it and was terrified.

  She went rigid in every muscle and her stomach contracted. She could hear the breeze hissing in the grass—was it the breeze? She must think, think, how to get out of this mess. If only her mind was clearer and she had some cold water to slake her thirst and bathe her throbbing head.

  The rustle of the grass was getting louder, but it was almost drowned by the drumming of her heart. She was in such a state of panic by this time that

  when she felt a hot breath on her ear and something like a soft wet nose against her face she flung out her arm and screamed. There was a yelp as her hand struck a hairy body and she screamed hysterically again and again. Then the barking started, and the din of screaming and barking almost split her head open.

  `Patch!' roared a voice. A resonant, masculine voice—and gloriously human ! The sudden release from fright was so great that Selina choked and then fainted.

  When she came to, she could hear a murmur of talk. Water was trickling on to her dry lips and she put out her tongue to draw it into her parched mouth. There was also a blessedly cool damp compress over her forehead and eyes.. Raising her hand, she moved the pad and found herself looking into a rugged, sunburnt face with strongly contrasting golden brows and sun-streaked hair, and eyes of a pale, hard flint-grey, very deep set, which looked back at her as if he could see right into her brain.

  `How do you feel, Miss Roxley?' the stranger asked.

  `How do you think?' she retorted, petulant because her head was aching. 'What kept you?' She had to steady her lips, her whole body was trembling with reaction. `Did—did Henry send you to look for me?'

  His brows quirked up. He glanced across her and she saw a handsome, middle-aged Indian in an immaculate drill safari jacket, kneeling on the other side of her. And beyond him a black and white mongrel squatting forlornly on its haunches, one ear pricked, the other flopped forward, regarding her

  with liquid brown eyes. The man turned to her. `Who the hell is Henry? Was he with you in the jeep?'

  'Of course not.' She took a deep quivering breath. `No—no, I thought you were a game warden or something. I thought he—he might have hired you to look for me.'

  `Nope.' That grey-eyed gaze was watching the fleeting expressions on her face. 'I'm Luke van Meer and this is my friend—er—Narayan.'

  The hesitation was noticeable,; and she said suspiciously: 'Then how do you know my name?'

  'We were driving west up the track when we spotted your wrecked jeep. Your case was still in it, and your passport in the handbag. It took a few minutes for Patch—the dog—to sniff you out.'