It’s a means to an end, she reminded herself, as her mind went back to Paco and the thought of him lying on that mattress. It was for him that she was sitting here, being hosted by an entire village and sipping something so strong, her own brush with death was beginning to feel like just a warm and fuzzy dream.
She watched Alex, seeing how easily he smiled as he talked to William, the way he stretched his legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles like a Victorian gentleman in his parlour. It was true that wherever he lay his hat . . . He could talk to anyone; from a tribesman to a billionaire, he treated them all equally.
A young woman, very pretty, came over with some chopped fruit and berries arranged on banana leaves. Tara saw the way her eyes rested on Alex, waiting to meet his gaze as he looked up with a grateful smile. A moment held between them. He glanced over at Tara but she looked quickly away, remembering how Jed had told her yesterday morning about the tribes’ polygamous culture. It was disingenuous to think that, if he’d lived here for several months, Alex wouldn’t have formed a relationship with at least one of the women. Was that what the women’s laughter was about? Her heart ached a little harder.
William was watching her too and he seemed to smile knowingly as she caught his eye. ‘Are you married?’
It was the inevitable question, the one any woman in her thirties – or even approaching thirty – was asked every time she met someone new. Even in the jungle. ‘No.’
‘No? This is impossible to believe!’ William laughed, suddenly jocular and slapping his thigh like she’d told a great joke. ‘Has not Alex Carter tried to make you his wife?’ He looked incredulous, as though surely the two Caucasian people in the hut must marry each other?
Tara looked between the two men and wondered again what Alex had told them about her; definitely something, she knew. She was the doctor lady from England. But what else? Former fiancée? The one who got away? Just an ex?
She decided to get her account down, too.
‘Well, as I’m sure you must know, he tried, a long time ago,’ she replied lightly after a pause. The retort was relayed back through the crowd in a verbal Mexican wave as the villagers – some translating for others – erupted into cheers and laughter at the boss’s expense. Perhaps they hadn’t known that.
‘But you said no?’ William gasped, enjoying himself immensely.
‘I should never have said yes,’ she said simply with a little shake of her head, as though it was but a trifling thing. She could feel Alex’s stare like hot coals on her skin as she forced a smile, the drink – burning water – scorching her throat, making her chest tight.
‘Well, then, perhaps you would like to consider one of our fine men? They are fast and strong and make big babies.’
At his words, Tara felt the world stop spinning. She saw Alex’s face freeze in her peripheral vision. ‘. . . That’s a generous offer,’ she said, recovering herself. ‘But I fear my boyfriend would take exception if I returned from the jungle with a husband.’
It was the kind of flippant retort she would use back home and William was laughing uproariously. They all were, even the children, who surely couldn’t understand what was being said but were excited by the novelty of tonight’s guests. The hut reverberated to the sound of hilarity.
Tara wouldn’t look at Alex, but she could feel her cheeks burning under his continued scrutiny. They were even, her point made. If he had had lovers, so had she. He knew, now, about Rory, if he hadn’t known before – and she wondered just how discreet her father was on his visits out here, talking easily about ‘the family’. How else could Alex have known about her career?
At least he would understand now that she had someone to hold her, to miss her. He would know that when she told this boyfriend about Jed’s attack and her accident, he would be horrified and angry and upset; her new lover wouldn’t be able to bear that she had suffered like this. In a funny sort of way, Tara couldn’t wait to tell him, to see the love on his face. It would be so . . .
She remembered how ragged Alex’s voice had been as he found her on the rock, the look in his eyes as he’d evaluated her for injury, the feeling of his hands smoothing her hair in the hammock, how he had sat on the bank and watched over her as she slept.
Slowly, she looked up. Alex was staring at the ground with a look that made her body limp. Her words, sharpened to a point, had hurt him, drawn first blood.
The little girl Tara had lifted earlier came running over, holding out something. It was a necklace, wound from grasses and interwoven with dried seeds and seed pods. ‘For me?’ she asked in a hollow voice, raising another smile. Polite as ever.
The little girl nodded happily, dancing on the spot as Tara carefully took it and lowered it over her head. ‘It’s beautiful! I love it.’ She pressed her fingertips to it. ‘Thank you.’
She watched as the child ran off and hid behind her mother’s legs. The food was being brought over now – chicken, potato, yucca – and the smell made her mouth instantly water. She hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days and terror had suppressed every appetite in her, but it came back now with a fury. The villagers ate with them, children sitting on the floor by her feet, voices clambering over one another in excitement and rush. Tara ate till she thought her stomach would burst, delighting everyone with her rabid hunger. The aguardiente had done a fine job of numbing her, making the hut swim and sway a little, and she watched the proceedings
