"I don't beg she said.
He raised one eyebrow.
"That's a rash claim, Dr.
Muldaire."
His smile was dangerous now, the
smile of a predator, sure of his prey.
"I'll have to put it to the test."
He held out his hand.
"Come with me."
He linked her arm in his, and she walked beside him through the French
window towards the chattering guests.
She noticed how swiftly people
stepped aside to let them pass, as if Nicolas was royalty.
When he
stopped to talk to anyone, he was greeted with effusive jollity.
But
the smiles looked forced, and Jacey had a strong feeling that anyone he
talked to was heartily glad when he moved on.
And yet he seemed determined to linger.
He put his arm possessively
round her shoulders while he was talking, and although he included her
in his conversations only once or twice, she received her share of
smiles.
But they looked wary, she realised, rather than sincere.
Nicolas guided her through the crowd, and she knew his indulgent
friendliness was as hypocritical as that of the guests.
He reminded
her of a leopard stalking at a waterhole, looking for the most
succulent victim to devour.
When he finally made for the door she murmured ironically, "You do seem
to have a lot of friends."
"I do, don't I," he murmured back, equally ironic.
"Is there anyone in particular you'd like to meet?"
"The famous Generalissimo Hernandez?"
she suggested.
He looked momentarily startled.
"Whatever makes you think he's here?"
She shrugged.
Teter told me these parties get lively later on.
Even
dictators like to relax occasionally, don't they?"
Nicolas laughed.
"Hernandez wouldn't like to hear you call him a dictator.
And he
doesn't attend parties like this.
His wife, wouldn't let him."
This time she joined in the laughter.
"You're joking?"
"I'm not," Nicolas said.
"Filar Hernandez is a very formidable woman.
The Generalissimo is devoted to her and he respects her opinions."
"The power behind the throne?"
Jacey hinted.
"Not as often as she thinks," Nicolas said smoothly.
"But as it happens, this is one of the few times that I agree with her.
Attending this kind of party would be bad for the Generalissimo's
public image."
Jacey shrugged.
"Why should he care about his image?
He has the guns to back up his
position."
"I'd rather he didn't need guns," Nicolas said.
"Guns are expensive, but public affection is cheap.
And you don't try
to depose a leader that you love."
"But the people don't exactly love him, do they?"
She was determined
to challenge him.
They had left the crowded room behind them and Nicolas was guiding her
towards the wide stairs.
"What makes you think they don't?"
he asked.
"A lot of them want a change of leadership," she said.
He stopped abruptly and swung round to face her, trapping her against
the ornate bannister post.
"Really?"
His voice was cold.
"Who told you that?"
"No one," she said.
"But I'm sure Lohaquin would confirm it, if I asked him."
Nicolas stared at her for a moment, and she saw fury in his eyes.
Then
he relaxed, and laughed, but there was no humour in his dark gaze.
"That playacting clown.
Who's been talking to you about him?"
"No one in particular."
She was fascinated by his sudden mood
change.
"I saw the wanted posters in town."
Ingenuously, she added, "But I did
hear a rumour that you're offering a huge reward for Lohaquin's
capture.
He must be very dangerous if you're so anxious to arrest
him."
"He's not dangerous," Nicolas snapped.
"He's just a scruffy trouble-maker who's talked a few Indians into
believing they can run this country better than we can.
He skulks in
the rain forest, and tells people that he's some kind of mysterious
saviour.
The Indian boys are the only ones he can dupe with his
ridiculous ideas about changing Guachtal."
"So there's no reward money?"
she asked.
Nicolas shrugged.
"We would show our gratitude if someone helped us catch him, I
suppose."
He smiled a predatory, dangerous smile.
"Why?
Are you planning to supplement your wages at La Primavera by trying to
arrest Lohaquin?"
"I wouldn't know where to start looking," she said innocently.
"Keep it that way," he advised.
His tone was light, but she suspected
that he meant her to take his warning seriously.
"Don't meddle in our politics, Dr.
Muldaire.
Stick to the things you
understand."
He smiled and it softened the hard lines of his face.
Here was the man who had charmed her so unexpectedly at the hospital.
"Things like making people feel good."
His voice changed, too.
"Making men feel good.
You're going to make me feel good soon, aren't you, doctor?
You're
something of an expert at that, I believe."
"You make me sound like a whore," she said reprovingly.
"All women are whores at heart," he said.
His hands slipped under her
arms, and his thumbs touched the underside of her breasts, then slid
upwards to brush her nipples.
She was not wearing a bra, and because
his light touch was intensely arousing, her nipples contracted
noticeably.
She gasped.
"No underwear?"
He grinned.
"How delightful."
He put both thumbs against her nipples and then,
with erotic roughness, captured her breasts in his hands and pushed
them upwards until they met the tight neckline of her dress.
He bent
down and kissed the cleft between them with an unexpected gentleness
before the tip of his tongue traced a moist pattern on her bare skin.
His arms slipped behind her and down to her bottom, and suddenly, as
she felt his fingers tugging at the dress, trying to pull it up, she
remembered exactly where they were.
"For heaven's sake."
She tried to pull away from him.
"Not here."
"Not embarrassed, are you, Dr.
Muldaire?"
he asked, laughing.
"I assure you, what we're doing is totally innocent compared to what
will be going on here very soon."
"Just as long as I don't have to participate," she said.
"You're quite safe," he said.
"No one would dare to touch my property."
She realised at once why he had escorted her so publicly through the
crowd of guests; he had been making a clear statement of ownership.
She did not know whether to feel angry or amused.
"You'll have to tell Peter that I'm your property," she said lightly,
testing him.
He gave her a curious look.
"You can tell him yourself," he said.
"The next time you see him."
He stepped back, abruptly.
"Wait for me here," he said.
"I have to arrange something."
Before she could say anything, he strode away.
She stood at the bottom
of the stairs.
Guests walked past her in pairs or groups, and nodded
and smiled.
Several of them peered at her surreptitiously from the
main room, then dodged back when they saw that she had spotted them.
"You really shouldn't, you know."
The familiar voice made Jacey turn
round.
Ana Collados came towards her.
"It's very foolish of you."
Jacey smiled politely.
"Foolish to be friends with Nicolas Schlemann, you mean?"
Ana nodded.
"I daresay you find him attractive.
Many women do.
But the Indians
have offered him to the loha.
It will destroy turn.
And you as well,
if you're with him."
"Destroy him?"
Jacey repeated, intrigued.
"How?"
"The loha will strike him when he least expects it," Ana said.
"It's very powerful.
Powerful and cruel.
It will not spare you
because you're innocent."
She looked at Jacey, obviously concerned.
"Let me introduce you to someone less dangerous."
Jacey smiled politely.
"Don't worry," she said.
"I can take care of myself."
"You don't understand," Ana said.
"There is no protection against the loha."
"What exactly is aloha Jacey asked.
"Something like Lohaquin?"
Ana nodded.
"It's like a part of the Lohaquin.
The loha lives in the space between