The Marriage Trap Read online

  Aidan’s face became an inscrutable mask. ‘It’s time for a siesta now,’ he said abruptly. And without another word, he rolled up a poncho and pillowed his head on it, closing his eyes and shutting her out the way he shut out the sunlight.

  Courtney watched him, more curious than ever. Obviously she had hit a nerve. What was he running away from? she wondered.

  The possibilities nagged at her for the rest of the afternoon.

  But further speculation came to naught. Aidan scarcely spoke from the time he finished his siesta until that evening when they had tied up in a tiny inlet where they would be camping for the night.

  He fixed dinner in silence while Courtney watched. They ate in silence as well. It wasn’t until he was rigging the hammocks that they spoke again. And it was because he had only rigged one that they spoke at all.

  ‘Where’s the other one?’ Courtney demanded.

  He turned and stared innocently at her. ‘What other one?’

  ‘Other hammock.’

  ‘This is mine,’ he offered. ‘I’ll hang yours wherever you like.’ He waited expectantly, a hint of a smile on his face.

  She waited, too. Then it began to dawn on her. Her eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t have another hammock?’

  ‘Me?’ Butter wouldn’t have melted in his mouth.

  Her teeth came together with a snap. ‘You were to bring the provisions. That’s your job.’

  ‘Provisions.’ He waved his arm in the direction of the food.

  ‘A hammock is part of the provisions.’

  He looked amazed. ‘Oh? Where does it say that?’

  Courtney exhaled sharply. They had signed no written contract. When she had questioned whether he would actually show up after agreeing to take her, he had looked offended. ‘A man’s word is his bond,’ he had said stoutly. And so they had signed nothing. Sucker, she called herself.

  ‘I’ll be glad to share mine with you,’ he told her. His smile became a full-fledged grin.

  ‘Your magnanimity astonishes me.’ She gave him a bitter smile in return. ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’ She unloaded one of the tarpaulins they had the food wrapped in.

  He scowled at her. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  ‘Making myself a bed.’ She ignored him, spreading it out on the ground, then patting it. Bumps and lumps abounded. Grimacing, she picked it up and lugged it to the boat. That wouldn’t be much better, but it wouldn’t be quite so bumpy. And she would be in less danger of being trampled by a tapir either.

  ‘You’re crazy,’ Aidan protested. ‘This hammock is big enough for two.’

  ‘Depends on the two,’ Courtney replied. ‘Not me and you.’

  ‘You don’t like me?’ He sounded hurt.

  She didn’t deign to answer that. Instead she began rearranging the gear they had left in the bottom of the boat, trying to make herself something relatively un-lumpy to stretch out on or curl up in. It wasn’t going to be easy. Aidan stood on the riverbank and scowled at her. She ignored him. She hoped her parents appreciated her sufferings on their behalf.

  ‘Goodnight,’ she said when she had arranged her makeshift bed as best she could.

  He grumbled something, then turned and stalked into the forest.

  Sleeping was impossible. She could hear Aidan moving about, muttering. Once or twice she heard him come back down to the river, but she didn’t turn her head to look at him. He would probably be smiling about her stupidity. She didn’t want to see.

  You could always sleep with him, she told herself as she punched one of the mesh bags she had stored clothes in into a more comfortable lump. Ha, she thought. That way lay disaster. However appealing he might be physically, he had no respect for her. And she didn’t have much for him either. The last thing she wanted was an affair with a rowdy, manipulative jungle guide who was running away from his past.

  ‘Damn it, get over here!’ Aidan’s voice suddenly broke into her thoughts.

  She sat up with a jerk to find a flashlight in her face. ‘Wha —?’

  ‘I said, get out of that damned boat and come over here!’

  ‘I’m trying to sleep.’

  ‘Not there!’

  She squinted into the light. ‘Where, then?’

  ‘Here.’ His voice was gruff as he yanked her out of the boat and dragged her into the jungle where he had hung his hammock. He pointed the flashlight into the trees. A few feet from his hammock hung another one.

  ‘I found one,’ he muttered.

  Courtney smiled, grateful for the darkness that hid it from him. ‘Did you now?’

  ‘Yes, damn it.’ He grabbed her around the waist and thrust her into it before she could say another word. Then he draped it with mosquito netting. When he had finished, he eased himself into his own.

  The soft sounds of the night-time jungle washed over them.

  Courtney yawned and stretched, luxuriating in the gentle swaying of her new bed. ‘Thank you, Aidan,’ she said softly.

  He grunted and rolled over. ‘Can’t blame a guy for trying,’ he mumbled.

  * * *

  He woke her at dawn. ‘Come on, Bo-Peep, rise and shine. Time to get a move on.’

  Courtney peered blearily up at him, unsure that she had even slept. But she must have, for she remembered dreams filled with monsters, beasties, and a brave little girl taking on a particularly wolfish one. It wasn’t hard to find the symbolism there.

  ‘Coming,’ she mumbled, rolling out of the hammock. All around she heard a zeet-zeet sound, like tiny saws cutting wood. ‘Is that frogs?’ she asked Aidan.

  ‘Mm-hm. Poisonous arrow frogs. Courting.’

  ‘Courting?’

  ‘You do know what that is, don’t you, Bo-Peep?’ he grinned.

  She scowled, ignoring him, trying to drag a brush through her damp, snarled hair.

  ‘Have you done it?’

  She blinked. ‘Done what?’

  ‘Courted? Got a boyfriend?’

  ‘I did. It wasn’t serious. What about you?’ she turned the tables.

  Aidan shook his head. ‘Not me. Courting leads to marriage. The last thing I want is to get married.’

  Which told her exactly what she had expected about him. He was a no-strings-attached man. And, since he was, she had better stay well away from him. She finished with her hair, then said, ‘I’ll be right back,’ and disappeared into the jungle to deal with more personal things.

  Aidan was already sitting in the stern of the boat by the time she had got her hammock and all her gear ready. He waited silently, probably expecting her to ask him to help her pack it. She didn’t. She wasn’t going to ask him for anything. Not even a cup of Consuelo’s strong, sweet cafezinho or something else that would prise her eyes open before they set out.

  Today even more than yesterday she was conscious of his eyes on her. Once she offered to sit in the stern and take a turn guiding the boat downriver, but he declined.

  ‘I like the view from here.’

  ‘That’s what I was afraid of,’ she said tartly, and he laughed. He had quite a view, and she would be the first to admit it. The periodic rains kept her shirt damp and revealing all the time. And one shirt was just as bad as the other. The poncho was a dead loss. It retained all the moisture in the air and about twice as much heat besides. She felt as if she were taking a steam bath when she put it on. After fifteen minutes she rolled it up and stowed it in the bottom of the boat, acknowledging its uselessness. But she didn’t complain.

  They ate lunch during a rainstorm just as they had the day before. Only this time there was no small talk. Aidan was silent, concentrating on his food. Once or twice she caught him looking at her, but if she caught his eye, he looked away. It was almost as if he were avoiding her, rather than the other way around.

  Curiouser and curiouser, she thought.

  Now and then, in an effort to try to initiate a normal conversation, she would ask him a question. She asked him how long he had been in the jungle. He said five years and igno
red her next one which was where he had come from.

  ‘We’re not playing twenty questions,’ he snapped irritably.

  After that, she left him alone.

  Clearly the man had a problem. Perhaps he had murdered someone, she thought. Or perhaps he was a forger. A counterfeiter. A spy. More likely, she told herself, he was a divorced husband who had run out on his alimony payments. She wondered what sort of woman Aidan Sawyer would marry.

  That line of thought brought her up short. Irritably she reminded herself that she had no business wondering any such thing! Nor did she care at all!

  Nevertheless, she was almost relieved when he cut the engine abruptly, interfering with her train of thought.

  ‘Are we stopping?’ Her watch said it was only about four in the afternoon. Last night they hadn’t stopped until after six.

  He shook his head, ‘Not yet. We’re getting into Indian territory hereabouts.’

  ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘Listen.’

  She did, but all she detected were the sounds of the river, birds—thousands of birds—and some insistent background rhythm. Did he mean that? She wasn’t sure. Her ears weren’t attuned to the environment. They still expected car horns, the roar of airplanes, the screech of brakes, and the drone of the television she had left back home. She shook her head.

  ‘I don’t hear anything.’

  ‘Well, I do,’ he said. ‘And it’s better to paddle than go through with the motor.’ His look dared her to dispute his decision.

  She didn’t. Having spent her early days living among various Indian tribes, she respected them. And she respected Aidan’s decision now. ‘Hand me a paddle,’ she said. ‘I’ll help.’

  His dark brows lifted. ‘What? No argument?’

  ‘No argument.’ She held out her hand. ‘The paddle, Mr. Sawyer?’

  He still looked at her sceptically, but he handed it to her without further comment.

  She was glad for something to do. The rhythmic movement as she paddled made a counterpoint to the darting watchfulness of her eyes as she scanned the riverbanks. Aidan hummed softly, as if he were simply driving to the supermarket for a pint of milk. But Courtney didn’t feel nearly that blasé.

  The thrashing of a tapir as it lumbered through the jungle and heaved itself into the river startled her. So did the skittering of the monkeys that swung through the branches overhead.

  ‘Relax,’ Aidan said finally, his voice calm, soothing almost, as if he were a parent reassuring a frightened child.

  ‘I am relaxed,’ Courtney retorted sharply. And she was fairly successful in believing that as time passed, because she never saw a thing.

  She was astonished, in fact, when she heard Aidan murmur, ‘Uh-huh,’ as if he had just had his suspicions confirmed.

  ‘Uh-huh what?’ She shifted to look at him over her shoulder.

  He nodded slightly, his eyes flickering towards the far bank where she couldn’t see a thing. ‘They’re over there. Just keep on paddling and don’t get hyper.’

  ‘Of course not!’

  But all the same, she wasn’t prepared for the way her heart stopped when they rounded the next bend, and seven young men with bowl haircuts and red and black face-paint stood on the riverbank, spears and blowguns aimed directly at them.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Courtney froze.

  ‘Smile,’ Aidan commanded. His voice was like padded steel. And as he spoke, he dipped his paddle once more into the water, turning the boat and sending them skimming directly towards the bank slightly upstream of the silent men.

  Her heart in her throat, Courtney smiled.

  Aidan eased the boat around so that he was between her and the men on the shore. His movements were easy, controlled and, she noticed, he kept both hands visible at all times. He spoke to the men softly. His slightly nasal words rang a bell in Courtney’s memory, but meant nothing to her now.

  They meant something to the Indians, though. One of them stepped forward slightly and nodded. He reached down and took hold of the rope Aidan handed him, then passed it to another of the men. Together they pulled until the boat was firmly aground.

  Courtney didn’t move. She sat quietly and waited. Once she would have been thrust forward. Now she had simply to wait and be silent. It was Aidan’s place to conduct their affairs. Thank God, she thought.

  She kept her eyes cast down. To stare would be belligerent, disrespectful. But she couldn’t help catching the interested looks on the faces of a couple of the men when she glanced up for a brief second. When she offered a fledgling smile, one of them gave her a wink that wasn’t difficult to interpret even with the language barrier. Some things were the same no matter what culture you were in. She looked away quickly.

  Aidan gave her a worried glance, then turned his attention to the man who had stepped forward and began to speak with him. They both used their hands, gesturing as they spoke. The Indian pointed off into the jungle. Aidan shook his head and asked a question. The other man paused, then nodded. He said something to one of his companions, the man who had winked at Courtney. He gave her another assessing look, then grinned and vanished into the woods without a sound.

  No one spoke until he returned and motioned for them to follow.

  Aidan turned to Courtney. ‘Come on.’ He held out his hand to her. She looked at it warily for a moment before she put hers in it and stepped out of the boat. Expecting that he would release her when her feet hit the ground, she was surprised when strong, callused fingers closed over hers, and he drew her with him as he followed the leader of the Indian men into the jungle. She felt more than saw him glance down at her, as if he expected her to bolt. Once upon a time she would have wanted to. But now she simply kept her head down and went on walking.

  They had gone no more than a hundred yards through what at first seemed impenetrable jungle when they reached a circle of a dozen huts. The outer walls and heavy roof thatch overlapped, protecting the village from outsiders, but the men led Aidan and Courtney through a break in the wall to the clearing within. There, several children romped about, most wearing nothing, though one, Courtney noted, had ‘Mazatlan’ written on the front of his torn T-shirt, and another wore a relic that said ‘UC Berkeley’. Anthropological cast-offs, she decided, and smiled at the children who stopped playing and regarded the two newcomers curiously.

  The leader spoke again to Aidan, who nodded, stopping where he was.

  ‘He’s getting the chief,’ Aidan explained quietly as the man disappeared into one of the huts, leaving them standing with the other men, the children, and one or two young women staring at them shyly. ‘To welcome us.’

  ‘You know the chief?’

  ‘I’ve met him once or twice. He’ll probably invite us to stay. If he does, we’re taking him up on it,’ he continued firmly, as if he expected an argument.

  He wasn’t going to get one. ‘Suits me.’ Courtney thought that having a tribe of Indians around was a good idea. Spending another night in the jungle alone with Aidan seemed far more dangerous. It was too unpredictable. Or, perhaps, it was its very predictability that worried her.

  There was a flurry of movement just then, and the man who had gone into the hut stepped out, then moved aside for the chief.

  The chief, Courtney realised, was not much taller than she was. A stocky, heavily muscled man of indeterminate age, he seemed unsurprised to see Aidan, but his eyes widened when they settled on her. He looked from Aidan to Courtney and back again.

  Courtney heard Aidan mutter something incomprehensible under his breath. Then he stepped forward, smiling, holding his palms out.

  The chief smiled back. ‘Bom dia, o meu amigo,’ he said, surprising Courtney with soft, slow Portuguese she could understand. ‘You have come back.’

  ‘Just passing through,’ Aidan assured him.

  ‘I hear of scientists,’ the chief said. ‘You come ahead of them.’

  Aidan shook his head, glancing down at Courtney who deliberately lo
oked away. ‘Not me.’

  ‘You’re not guiding them?’ the chief asked, frowning.

  Aidan shook his head. ‘I had another commitment.’

  The chief looked at Courtney also and raised his eyebrows. Aidan nodded, his smile widening. He took Courtney’s hand again. She started to pull away, but he hung on grimly.

  'A sua novia,’ the chief said. It wasn’t a question.

  His girlfriend? Courtney bristled. ‘I’m no—’ she began, but Aidan cut her off.

  ‘You could say that. We—’

  The chief beamed. ‘We have just the place for you.’ He pointed to one of the huts. ‘You may have this, the two of you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Aidan said at the same time Courtney blurted, ‘Not on your life!’

  She said it in English, and no one but Aidan understood her words. But the man who had winked at her frowned for a moment, as if he caught the gist of it if not the actual words.

  Aidan expelled a long, angry breath. ‘Come on!’ He practically jerked her off her feet as he hauled her into the hut that the chief had designated. Sticking his head back out, he said, ‘Muito obrigado,’ to the chief, then ducked back in and glared at her.

  ‘What the hell were you trying to do?’

  ‘Me?’ She was outraged. ‘You let them think I was your woman.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So?’ She yelped. ‘I am not your woman, and I will not spend the night in this hut with you!’

  He sighed disgustedly. ‘I suppose you think I’m going to attack you.’

  ‘I have reason to!’

  ‘What reason?’ His voice was scathing.

  ‘Last night,’ she reminded him sweetly. ‘The hammock trick.’

  Aidan’s eyes rolled heavenwards. ‘That’s not the same thing.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, pardon me if I don’t see the difference.’

  ‘Listen, you stupid female, I am trying to save your hide. Women without protectors are fair game. You’ll be safer with me.’

  Courtney snorted inelegantly. ‘You’ve been watching too many old movies, Mr. Sawyer. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.’