A Dangerous Game (49 page)

"No," he said gently.

"It makes me sad."

"I really don't see why," she said as offhandedly as she could.

"Because it shows that you're deeply unhappy," he said.

"I hope this isn't going to turn into a therapy session?"
 
she said,

keeping her tone flippant.

He took her hands again, and she felt the warmth of his fingers as they

held hers.

"Why do you hate yourself, Jacey?"
 
he asked softly.

"What happened to make you hate yourself?"

She looked into his eyes and saw real bafflement, and a genuine need to

understand.
 
Suddenly her anger dissolved.
 
For the first time in her

life, she wanted to talk.
 
To talk about her past.
 
Why not talk to

this man, she thought.
 
It might help me.
 
He's a kind man, a caring

man.
 
And pretty soon I'll be leaving this country, and I'll never see

him again.

"I fell in love," she said.

"A long time ago.
 
Or maybe I should say, I thought I was in love."

"And he dumped you?"
 
Felix nodded.

"He married me," she said.
 
The memories came flooding back.

"I

married, and I had a baby."
 
She was vaguely surprised at how easy it

was to say the words.

"A son."
 
She paused.

"He'd be about ten years old now."

"He died?"
 
Felix asked compassionately.

"No," she said.
 
Tm sure he's still alive."
 
Suddenly, sitting there

with the muted noises of the rain forest all around her, she found the

words gushing out.
 
It was as if a dam had broken, and all the pent-up

rage and frustration and pain spilt out.

"I was very young, and I married an Arab boy.
 
I went back to his

country, and when my baby was born, his parents took the baby, and told

me that unless I did exactly as I was told, I would never see him

again."

"And your husband agreed to this?"
 
Felix was shocked.

"My husband didn't care," she said.

"He was gay, and his family had ordered him to give them an heir.
 
He

did.
 
As far as he was concerned, that was the end of my usefulness.
 
I

was a westerner.
 
I didn't matter."

"But his parents let you see the child?"
 
Felix asked.

"I never saw my baby again," she said.

"They took him away the day he was born.
 
They told me to divorce my

husband, and go back to England.

They told me that if I caused trouble, they'd have me deported and I'd

never see my son again, but if I behaved, they'd let me come back and

visit him.
 
It was all lies.
 
They never intended to let me see him.

But I believed them; I was young, frightened and alone.
 
I had to

believe them."
 
She shrugged.

"Of course, when I tried to get in touch with them later it was

impossible.
 
My letters were returned unopened.
 
I tried to get help, I

tried to get my son back, but I'd married in England, of my own free

will, and gone out to my husband's country willingly, and no one was

interested in my case.
 
I had the impression that some people thought I

deserved everything I got for being such a gullible fool.
 
Maybe they

thought my son was better off without such a stupid mother.
 
And I

suppose that for years I secretly thought that they were right.
 
That

it was all my fault."
 
She drew a deep breath and smiled.

"And that's it.
 
The dark skeleton in my cupboard.
 
What do you make of

it, Mr.
 
Therapist?"

"You decided never to trust a man again," Felix said.

"And I can't say I blame you."
 
He was still holding her hands.
 
Now he

pulled her closer to him.

"But we aren't all like that, Jacey.
 
Believe me."

"Don't feel sorry for me," she said.

"Being footloose and fancy free seems to suit me."

He gazed at her seriously.

"And you've never wanted to settle down?"

"Never," she said.
 
She smiled at him brightly, trying to lighten the

atmosphere.

"Perhaps my ex-husband did me a favour.
 
I've had a good life, with no

emotional ties, and no emotional responsibilities."

"Is that really good?"
 
he asked.

"Doesn't it make you feel rather incomplete?"
 
Before she could answer,

he let go of her hands and stood up.

"Come inside with me, Jacey.
 
I want to show you something."

The interior of the bungalow felt cool and the windows were shaded with

bamboo blinds.
 
Some of the furniture was western and Jacey guessed it

had probably been bought in Techtatuan, but much of it had obviously

been made from indigenous materials.
 
Felix led Jacey into a small

room.
 
It had wall-to-ceiling shelves, and they were all crammed with

bulging files, books, and papers gathered into bundles A large table

was piled with documents and ring-binders and a pot of fresh, bright

flowers stood in the middle of the chaos.

"My mother's workroom," Felix said.
 
He saw her looking at the flowers,

and smiled.

"My mother always had flowers everywhere.
 
I like to keep up the

tradition."

Jacey touched one of the thick ring-binders.

"May I look?"

"Of course," he said.

"That's why I brought you in here."

The binder was full of botanical drawings, annotated with meticulous

neatness, a strange contrast to the untidy room.

"It's a treasure trove," Felix said.

"For anyone who can understand it all.
 
This represents years of

research.
 
My mother lea mt from the Indians, from the healers.
 
I

don't think anyone else has had that opportunity, certainly not a

western doctor."
 
He watched as Jacey looked round the room.

"There's a wealth of knowledge here.
 
I can't do much with it, I'm just

a computer buff."
 
He moved closer to her.

"But if I could find a sympathetic helper, someone who was willing to

dedicate themselves to a voyage of discovery, things could become

exciting."

"Are you offering me a job?"
 
she asked gently.

"If I was, would you accept?"
 
he murmured.

"It would take a lifetime to work through all this," she said.

"You have a lifetime," he answered.

"Haven't you?"
 
She knew he was going to kiss her, and when he did she

wondered why she was allowing it to happen.
 
Although she certainly

found him attractive, he did not give her the kind of instant sexual

jolt that she felt when she looked at Nicolas, or the rush of

unexpected lust she had experienced when she first saw Leonardo

Marquez.
 
But she felt desire, and need, as he grasped her shoulders

and pulled her close, his body pressing against her.

Telling him about her past had acted as a catharsis.
 
She felt

light-hearted, and carefree.
 
As his lips moved over her face and down

to her neck, she relaxed against him, neither encouraging nor hindering

him.
 
She guessed he would be gentle and thoughtful, and that was just

what she needed.
 
She wanted to be made love to.
 
She did not want to

do anything; she wanted to let him pleasure her.

And he seemed quite willing to do so.
 
His kisses grew more passionate,

and she felt his hands moving to her breasts.
 
He cupped them, and

explored her nipples with his thumbs while, she made soft, encouraging

noises in her throat.
 
He pressed harder, massaging the sensitive peaks

into hard little buds.

She was wearing a loose, sleeveless top without buttons.
 
As he tugged

the garment upwards, she helped him by raising her arms.
 
He pulled the

top over her head, and then quickly removed her bra.
 
She felt his

excitement mount.
 
Keeping her hands linked behind her neck, and her

arms bent, she raised her elbows so that her breasts were level with

his mouth.
 
His lips closed over one erect nipple, and his fingers

sought the other one.
 
He concentrated for so long on exciting her

breasts with his tongue, and his hands, that in the end she felt a

slight impatience.
 
She loosened the waistband of her skirt and it

dropped to the floor.
 
Surprised, he stopped his caresses and took a

step backwards.

"Oh dear," she teased.

"I've shocked you."

"No," he said.

"It's just that I didn't expect1 mean, I wasn't trying to pressure

you."

"You weren't?"
 
She reached up and linked her hands round his neck.

"Well, you could've fooled me."
 
She pulled his head forward and kissed

him.

"Do you have a bed in this bungalow?
 
A nice, soft bed?"

"I have a bed," he said, his mouth still over hers.

"Then take me to it, and make love to me," she said.