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  `Oh-h-h ...! ' She shut her eyes again on a deep sigh.

  He said: 'That's enough talking for the moment, you must have taken a pretty nasty crack on the head. We're going to try and get you back to the road where I have a first-aid kit.' He began to run his hands over her arms and legs and body, and in any other circumstances she would have struggled and pushed him off, furiously indignant, but she suffered it in silence because his touch was completely impersonal.

  `Are you a doctor?' she mumbled, flapping away an insistant fly.

  'Of a sort,' he sat back on his heels. 'You don't seem to have broken anything, so I'm going to give you a fireman's lift. Okay?'

  She nodded weakly, content for the present to leave things to the two men. Later ... later she

  would have to think for herself and decide what to do.

  With Narayan's help Luke van Meer got her into a sitting position and then up and over his shoulder, and she was surprised how gently both of them were handling her, but when they set off through the elephant grass and the scrub jungle she moaned with pain from her hanging head and Narayan came round to place a hand against it to keep her steady.

  They passed the jeep, tilted at an angle with the front bumper buried in the dry, crumbling earth of one of the large anthills near the road, then on towards a small car, its roof rack so laden with bedding-rolls and other gear that it looked like a ludicrous dung-beetle. They laid her down gently on a grassy verge, and while Narayan fetched an old cardigan out of the car and folded it to put under her head, Luke van Meer rigged up some sheeting between the car and an adjacent bush to give her shade. Then he got a first-aid box out of the crowded boot and started cleaning up her scratches and bruises.

  Selina's black cotton cord jeans had been badly ripped when she had scrambled her way frantically through thorny scrub, and she had to press her lips together to stop herself crying out at the sting of the surgical spirits Luke van Meer was using on her delicate white, lacerated skin. When he had covered the cuts on her arms and legs with adhesive dressings he gave her an anti-tetanus shot.

  She was grateful, but still fretful. 'Do you always carry a portable surgery around with you?' she asked sourly as he dabbed the spot with spirits. She

  was not wholly convinced yet that Henry hadn't sent him.

  His mouth quirked humorously. 'Just a Boy Scout at heart. Be Prepared, that's me.' He tidied her jeans and red checked shirt. 'We always carry one or two essentials, and a few extras needed around here —drugs for malaria and dysentery, anti-venom for snakebite, things like that:'

  He began tending the bump on her-forehead, just above her eyebrow, and although she winced she was impressed by the quick competence of his big square hands. Selina looked up and met his eyes as he applied a dressing, securing it in position by winding a bandage round her thick, silky mass of chestnut hair. She must have been mistaken about that flint-hard acuteness in his eyes. His gaze was a bland, smoky grey with a suspicion of amusement. What was there to laugh about, for heaven's sake! she thought crossly, shutting her long curling lashes against him.

  'I hate to have to tell you this, Miss Roxley,' the amusement was in his voice too now, 'but I think you're going to have a juicy shiner.'

  Her lids flew open. 'You m-mean a black eye?'

  'That's what I mean.' He put things away and closed the first-aid box. 'What's--er—whatsisname, Henry, going to say about all this?'

  'You are from Henry ' she accused him wildly.

  'Relax, will you?' he ordered, his light tone hardening suddenly. 'I told you—no! But I guess he'll have to know what happened soon.'

  'Not if I can help it!' she responded so fiercely that his eloquent brows shot up.

  'You can't hide those bruises. Well, we'll talk

  about it reasonably when your headache's better and your temper has improved.'

  She turned her head away, tears pricking her eyes. This whole day had turned into an almighty disaster. He had rescued her, done so much for her already. She said stiffly : 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound churlish, but you don't understand....'

  'Who understands women?' He had reverted to mild amusement. 'Okay, I'm sorry too. Here now, let's prop you up a bit.'

  The arm around her shoulders was firm and reassuring, lifting her. Narayan was standing beside them holding an enamel mug. While Luke van -Meer had been patching her up the tall, silent Indian had got a Primus stove going and boiled a tin kettle and made some tea. Luke van Meer gave her a couple of analgesic tablets and she took the mug, murmuring thanks, and gulped them down. The strong tea had no milk but was liberally sweetened and tasted like nectar. Selina had had no food since the previous night and became aware of gnawing hunger but hadn't the courage to ask if they had anything to eat. She wondered where the men had come from and where they were going.

  Narayan gave her another mug of tea and as she swallowed it thirstily he said: 'You look better, Miss Roxley. It is fortunate that this mishap, occurred fairly early in the year. In another few weeks you would have been quite dehydrated lying out here iii the hot sun. Heat stroke, you know.'

  'Yes,' she owned miserably, thanking him for the tea in a small voice.

  The two men left her to rest for a while and drank their own mugs of tea as they examined the jeep for

  damage. Selina heard snuffling and found the mongrel inching along the ground towards her on his belly. He pawed at her tentatively and she looked at the melancholy brown eyes and ran a finger over his foxy muzzle, whispering: 'All right, you found me, so you're forgiven for frightening the life out of me, but how am I going to get out of this fix?' At which he whimpered in reply and she felt like having a good weep. Her rescuers were conferring quietly, too far away to be overheard. Discussing the jeep ... discussing her ... she drifted into an exhausted doze.

  When she awoke her head was still sore but she felt much more able to cope. To her surprise she saw that her companions had the jeep back on the road. It looked undamaged!—that was encouraging. She lay watching the two of them as they stood together talking. A strangely ill-assorted pair. Luke van Meer was a big, rangy individual with blunt, bronzed features and untidy hair; very casual, even slovenly, in the way he wore his loose-fitting drill slacks and a sweat-marked bush shirt. Not a bit like the tall, impeccable figure and aquiline brown face of his Indian friend.

  Selina's mind was now clear enough to start contriving a new plan for herself. The jeep seemed to be serviceable. Those two Good Samaritans had done all they could for her in the circumstances, and as Henry hadn't employed them she could tell them she was going on to Ramnagar and ask for some food and directions to help her on her way. It was only mid-afternoon, she could do it easily. She was relaxed and optimistic, floating on a cloud of

  airy confidence; a prisoner reprieved at the last moment !

  She sat up warily—a little stiff and tender but not too bad, she thought—and called: `Mr van Meer!' Both men looked her way. 'May I have my bag and a little water to freshen up?'

  Luke van Meer lifted her case from the jeep and strolled towards her smiling lazily. 'When a woman starts thinking about her appearance it has to be a good sign! ' Putting down the case, he went to his car and fetched a water bottle, then walked round the back of the nearest bush, beat about for a moment and came back. 'Safe enough for privacy there, he said.

  Selina found her handbag tucked inside her case, and also took out a small towel. Luke helped her to her feet and she retreated out of sight and managed fairly well, although she felt a bit faint and had to drink some of the water. Her reflection in the mirror of her compact showed a white, drawn face with bluish streaks already appearing around the edge of one of her large, long-lashed violet eyes and her bandaged head added to her woeful appearance. She covered the bruises with foundation and powder, touched up her pallid cheeks with blusher and put on some lipstick.

  Her hands were still very shaky, and the prospect of setting out on her own in the jeep once more brought weak tears to her eyes, but she blinked them away and returned to the men, determined to see it through somehow. To her chagrin, her knees were wobbly and she had to flop down again, making a pretence of stowing her towel and bag in the case. Luke van Meer's critical appraisal

  added to her misgivings, but she took a deep breath and said loftily: 'I do hope the jeep's all right. I'd like to get to Ramnagar by this evening.'

  `Would you indeed! ' was the satirical comment. 'Is that why you were going the other way?'

  `Going the other w-way?' she jerked her head back in consternation and felt a stab of pain. `Oh-h

  no-o-o ! '

  'Oh, yes. By the tyre marks and position of the jeep you were headed for the hills, Miss Roxley.'

  'I couldn't have been! ' she wailed.

  But she could; and she knew it. It had been dark and she had been terrified, and she could have turned off on to the wrong track. That would explain why Henry and his minions hadn't caught up with her in all these hours! They must have been searching the Ramnagar road, assuming she had taken the main route out of the reserve—as she had had every intention of doing.

  They would probably still be there, making enquiries, hunting around for their quarry as they would hunt for an escaped animal. Henry would probably have a check made all the way to Delhi, and the chances of her getting through now were non-existent. .

  The last, fragile vestige of renewed hope died. Selina buried her head in her hands.

  'Oh, God ! ' she whispered. 'What am I going to do now?'

  CHAPTER TWO

  LUKE VAN MEER stood with his thumbs hooked in his belt watching Selina's dispirited figure crouching at his feet, noting her delicate, ringless fingers and the lustrous tawny glints in her dishevelled hair above and below the bandage around her drooping he
ad. For a moment his eyes were narrow and thoughtful, then he glanced at Narayan's impassive face and shrugged and said testily :

  'Pull yourself together, Miss Roxley. We're not likely to leave you here in the middle of nowhere to fend for yourself.'

  His barely concealed impatience stiffened her shoulders as nothing else could have done. Her head came up with the haughty tilt she always used on Henry, and her round, thickly lashed violet eyes surveyed Luke with a cool, supercilious stare, full of bravado.

  'You and Mr Narayan have been marvellous and I'm grateful, but I'm sure you would like to be on your way again. Please forgive me if I've delayed you, but don't let me keep you any longer.' She brushed off a fly nonchalantly. 'I still have the jeep and I'll work something out.'

  'Don't talk rubbish,' was the forthright response. 'That clout on the head must have been worse than we reckoned if you imagine you can get by on your own. Were you running away to this man Henry in Ramnagar, or were you deserting him after a row?'

  He saw the sudden compression of her lips and added tersely: 'Either way it was a damn silly stunt for you to go haring around in a jeep without any protection or sense of direction.'

  There was a short, fraught silence until Selina found her voice, saying haughtily: 'If you've quite finished, Mr van Meer, please go.'

  'You can't dismiss us like a couple of servants, Miss Roxley.'

  `Oh-h, heavens! ' she cried distractedly. 'You know I didn't mean it that way. Once you've gone perhaps I can begin to think more clearly.'

  Luke van Meer went down on his heels beside her. 'Look, it's my guess you've run out on Henry from a rest-house in the reserve, am I right?' His tone was brisk but more persuasive now. 'Whatever the reason, it would be wiser to go back. Tell us which one and we'll see you get there safely.'

  She couldn't let them take her back into the trap, not now that she was feeling battered and confused and weak for lack of food. To be confronted by. Henry and Delia together, without the strength to withstand their onslaughts, was past bearing. In a way, she thought hysterically, she would rather die.

  don't remember,' she improvised, touching her head.

  He heaved an exasperated sigh. 'Come on, Miss Roxley. Narayan and I have a good way to go before making camp, and we haven't the time to tote you round a hundred and twenty-five square miles finding the right place.'

  I'm not going to any of the rest-houses. The only thing I want is to get out of the reserve somehow, get to Delhi and fly home to England.'

  The Indian interposed quietly: 'Alas, we cannot spare the time to escort you to Ramnagar, nor can you travel alone in this condition. Besides, your family or friends will be extremely worried about your safety, is it not so?'

  'Oh, yes, they'll be worried all right,' her voice broke on a bitter little laugh, 'my ... my so-called friends! But not for the reasons you're thinking.' She was frightened and swallowed hard. 'Safety! In many ways I'd be safer out here alone....'

  Luke stood up and said abruptly: 'What was the trouble?'

  'The trouble was that I was gullible enough to allow them to bring me to this isolated nature reserve in the first place,' she said bitterly.

  'That figures,' he drawled with a sardonic edge as he took in her rather tattered slender elegance, the delicacy of her manicured hands, the almost classical beauty of her face which anxiety, bruises and bandages couldn't disguise. 'You're hardly the type for roughing it.'

  'I'm tougher than I look.' The blusher stood out in contrast on her cheeks as her colour receded. She clenched her fists. I’ve—I've had to be.'

  'What does that mean?' Luke's brows came down in a harsh line when she averterted her head; 'You said you'd be safer out here. Are you alone in the rest-house with this man Henry? Has he been pestering you?'

  'No, I've not been alone with him,' she admitted, but her voice shook with repugnance. `Delia's there.' 'Who is she?'

  ' 'My father's—wife.'

  'Your stepmother? Why isn't your father there too?'

  'Because he died last summer—and she's no kind of mother to me, nor ever will be! ' she informed him emphatically.

  There was an interminable pause, then Luke said sceptically : 'Are you saying that this man has been molesting you, and your stepmother does nothing to prevent it?'

  'Must we go on with this inquisition! I'm not saying any more—except that I'm not going back to them.' She closed her eyes and breathed in a spent voice: 'You're like everyone else I've ever tried to talk to....'

  'Try me with the truth.'

  Selina raised her head and for a long moment Luke's gaze held hers with such hard grey cynicism that resentment surged through her veins in a hot tide and broke through her frail defences.

  'You can take that sneering look off your face, I know what you're thinking! I'm a spoilt brat—I'm bored—I can't stand the rough life! I've had a fight with my boy-friend and I'm creating as much trouble as I can for everybody concerned!' Her face was scarlet with anger, making the skin of her cheekbones taut, dry and painful with the beginnings of sunburn. 'You want the truth?' she flung at him shrilly, 'I'm scared.' A hammer was pounding inside her head and her voice dwindled. 'I'm scared!'

  The Indian looked shocked and looked away. Luke turned on his heel, took Narayan by the arm, and the two of them retreated along the road to the jeep leaving Selina sitting on the ground with her

  hand over her eyes, struggling to regain her composure without bursting into tears.

  She had not cried since that day her father had died and she was not giving way to it now although the accumulation of months of strain was there, behind her eyes, ready to flood out. There was something crawling on her other hand and she jerked nervously to flick the ant away. As if sensing her distress, the dog nuzzled close to her. She stared down at him, concentrating on the irregular white patches on his back as she fought down the tightness in her throat. Men were all the same, she thought bitterly—here was a mongrel, a skinny pi-dog with more instinct for genuine fear and unhappiness than all of them put together.

  It took her some time to rally, slowly accepting the fact that she would have to give in to Luke van Meer sooner or later. She sat stroking the dog for another minute before turning bleakly to call out to Luke and tell him she had resigned herself to going back. He was still talking to Narayan, out of earshot. The Indian glanced her way, then said something to Luke, who nodded and came striding towards her.

  Selina straightened up and began to scramble awkwardly to her feet, but Luke caught her shoulders and lowered her gently into a sitting position again, going down on his heels to be on a level with her.

  Before he could speak she shrugged his hands aside and said wearily: 'I don't think I can take any more, Mr van Meer. You win. I had no right to impose on strangers, and if I've seemed rude and unreasonable

  'No-, Miss Roxley, you've won this bout.'

  because I was feeling so shaken up I couldn't think straight.' Her head came up slowly, her eyes widening into a large, round bewildered stare. 'What did you say?'

  'If the situation, whatever it may be, has forced you to such drastic lengths, we'll have to do something about it. I'm sorry I put you through the hoop rather harshly just now, but we had to make sure there was more to this than a giddy little adventure that went wrong.'

  She searched his face apprehensively, scarcely daring to believe what he was saying until his steady gaze and serious expression convinced her. She had to shut her eyes as the sudden feeling of release made her head swim, slacking her tensed muscles until she swayed back and would have collapsed if he hadn't put a hand behind her neck and gently propelled her head forward between her knees.

  When the faintness passed she lifted herself, unconsciously pressing against him, whispering : 'Thank you.' This time he cupped her head, tilting it up and-putting a small silver hip-flask to her tremulous mouth. She took a mouthful of neat cognac, choked on it and sat coughing while he rubbed her back vigorously, a contrite grin softening the lines in his lean cheeks.