Temple Of The Moon. Sara Craven

walked back to the table, fighting an impulse to throw herself on this Lennox man’s dubious mercy and beg a lodging at the Institute. At the same time, she was deeply concerned by the reaction her arrival had caused. Was it possible that James had kept to himself the fact that the Vision photographer Professor Morgan was expecting was his wife? Was he dissociating himself from her completely. It was a troubling thought and made her position in Merida even more tenuous.

      As she approached the table, she saw that Shaun Lennox had risen and was waiting for her, his hands resting lightly on his hips, a faint smile playing about his mouth. It was the smile that decided her. She would sleep in the street rather than ask any favour of him.

      She forced an answering smile. ‘That’s settled,’ she said with spurious brightness. She hesitated. ‘Would it be in order for me to at least visit the Institute?’ She indicated the big square case on the floor. ‘Some of my cameras and equipment are valuable, and I’d feel happier if I could get them under lock and key there, rather than leave them in my room.’

      He eyed the case expressionlessly. ‘I suppose that can be arranged,’ he said drily. ‘But don’t regard it as a foot in the door.’

      She breathed a silent sigh of relief. She was sure she could find somewhere to stay if she no longer had her cameras to worry about. She had brought the minimum of luggage with her, feeling it was better to make up any deficiencies locally if necessary.

      Besides, it was only too likely that the first person she came face to face with at the Institute would be James himself, and then her accommodation problem would surely be solved. Even James, she thought, could hardly repudiate his own wife in front of his colleagues without causing the sort of unpleasant scene that he would detest. She noted with a feeling of resignation that she seemed to have abandoned the idea of any kind of welcome from James.

      ‘Well, let’s go.’ Shaun Lennox’s voice broke impatiently across the depressing trend of her thoughts. ‘I’ve wasted enough time today already. That case is all you need to take, I assume. You’ll need your other luggage with you.’

      Gabrielle, who had been searching for an excuse to take her large suitcase along as well, let the idea drop with an inward sigh. She could always, she supposed, tell this forbidding stranger her real identity and have the joy of seeing him eat humble pie over his rudeness to a colleague’s wife, but she was reluctant to do so. It would involve her in all kinds of awkward explanations at this late stage and if these were needed she would prefer to make them to Professor Morgan. But she hoped at the same time that they would not be necessary. James could not just go on ignoring the fact of her presence for ever.

      ‘Of course,’ she said, disliking him more than she would ever have thought possible.

      ‘Right, then.’ He glanced rather ostentatiously at his watch and she bent to pick up the heavy case, shifting her shoulder bag to the other side as she did so. It was an awkward movement, rendered even more so by the fact that she caught her sandal heel against the leg of the table and overbalanced, stumbling slightly.

      ‘So your much vaunted sexual equality doesn’t extend to carrying your own baggage,’ he commented drily, and before she could protest, he had swung the case to his own shoulder. ‘Can you manage now, Miss Christow?’

      She glared at him impotently. ‘Thank you—yes.’

      But once outside the hotel where a jeep stood waiting, another hazard presented itself. Although the rain had stopped almost as suddenly as it had begun, the street was still more like a miniature river than a highway and Gabrielle halted on the hotel steps with an exclamation of dismay.

      ‘Come now, Miss Christow. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that Merida is also known as Little Venice—among other things?’ he added with a sardonic curl of his lips.

      ‘No, they didn’t, Mr Lennox.’ She kept her voice cool. ‘That’s why I’m wearing sandals—not waders.’

      Again she had to endure that look of total assessment that seemed to reach her shrinking skin.

      ‘I’m sure your job requires that you get your facts straight,’ he drawled. ‘It’s Dr Lennox, not Mr. And there’s no need to paddle, as long as you’re prepared to forgo your liberated woman’s principles yet again.’

      He placed her camera case in the back of the jeep and before she could speak or move, reached for her in turn. He lifted her as easily as if she had been a doll, her legs dangling helplessly as she was held for an endless, unbearable moment against his hard muscular body, then with almost insolent ease he deposited her none too gently in the passenger seat. Gabrielle sat up, straightening her dress and smoothing her hair with hands that shook in spite of her efforts to control them, while he strode round to the other side of the jeep and swung himself into the driving seat.

      He grinned at her, as he switched on the ignition.

      ‘We get more than our feet wet in the rain forest, Miss Christow,’ he said laconically. ‘Count yourself lucky to be out of it.’

      ‘We’ll see about that, Dr Lennox.’ Her tone held a restrained fury that could not have been lost on him. A moment’s pause and she added, ‘Male chauvinist pig isn’t a phrase I ever thought I would use, but in your case I have to make an exception.’

      ‘Well, don’t feel badly about it, Miss Christow.’ The jeep set off with a perceptible jerk and Gabrielle realised that her jibe had actually got to him. ‘There’s bound to be a female equivalent and I should have no hesitation in using it about you—if you’re around that long.’

      And there was no answer to that, Gabrielle thought with a sinking heart.

       CHAPTER TWO

      IT was a relatively short drive to the Institute headquarters, but it seemed longer to Gabrielle. The silence between them seemed to crackle, but neither she nor her companion made the slightest attempt to relieve the tension by introducing some casual topic of conversation.

      There was plenty she would have liked to have asked him, especially when she caught a glimpse down a side street of the huge pale lemon mass of the sixteenth-century cathedral. It was infuriating to think she had been kicking her heels in the hotel waiting for the Institute to contact her, and now that she did have a chance to do some sightseeing, it was being spoiled for her like this.

      It was hard to maintain her reserve when they swung into a wide, busy boulevard lined on each side by big houses, most of which had the unmistakable appearance of having seen better days, and built in a crazy jumble of varying architectural styles. Gabrielle’s hands itched for her camera. She found all this forlorn grandeur intensely appealing, but the jeep sped on and she had to be content with promising herself a return visit on her own before she left Merida.

      They turned off presently into a narrower thoroughfare, where the exotic topiary hedges gave way to high white walls, interspersed with anonymous wooden gates, and it was outside one of these that the jeep eventually drew up. The drainage must be better in some parts of the city than others, Gabrielle thought, as she noticed that the narrow pavement on which she was about to descend seemed to have escaped the recent flooding.

      Dr Lennox had already reached into the back of the jeep and recovered her camera case. Now he stood unsmilingly, holding it while he extended his other hand to help her out of the jeep. Perversely, she ignored his proffered assistance and climbed down unaided, uncomfortably aware as she did so that the manoeuvre had revealed more of her slim legs than she had intended. But if she had expected some pointed comment, none was forthcoming. He merely unlatched the gate and stood aside to allow her to precede him.

      The courtyard they entered was surrounded on three sides by an attractive two-storey building in white stucco. A covered verandah ran the length of the ground floor and was echoed by a series of connecting balconies on the upper floor. A fountain played lazily in the centre of the tiled yard and brilliant blossoms flowered in tubs or swarmed in heady splendour over the columns