Moonflower Madness (10 page)

A few days ago the very thought would have seemed too wonderful to be true. But it wasn't a day ago. Since then, he had kissed her and his kiss had not been welcome. It had shocked and shaken her, though for what reasons she was not quite sure. She did know that she didn't want him to kiss her again, ‘And that,' she said confidingly and practically to Ben, ‘is not a very convenient thing to wish about a future husband.'

By the time she had finished brushing her hair, her buoyancy and determination had returned in full measure. Despite the kiss, and despite Zachary Cartwright's intention of returning her to Chung King, she was not going to go. She was going to become a part of their expedition. She was going to search for blue Moonflowers in Kansu.

When she had washed as much of herself as decency allowed, she walked back toward the camp, her hair tumbling loose and free around her shoulders and down her back. Charles turned towards her, his light blue eyes immediately appreciative.

‘You should always wear your hair like that,' he said. ‘It's like a waterfall of night-black silk.'

‘It's damned impractical,' Zachary Cartwright said, his hard dark eyes flicking towards her and then back to the notes he was making.

‘I have some pins in my bag,' she said defensively. ‘I shall put it in a chignon, not a queue.'

‘I should think not,' Charles said warmly, removing his jacket from one of the canvas chairs and motioning for her to sit. ‘There's no need for you to try and look Chinese any longer. Why haven't you changed into European clothes? You said you had brought some with you.'

‘Because …' she hesitated, aware of Zachary Cartwright listening to her with interest. ‘Because these are more comfortable,' she finished lamely.

‘Have some breakfast,' Charles said, accepting her explanation at face value. ‘It won't be what you're used to, but it's filling and nourishing.'

It was rice with vegetables, followed by a slab of dark chocolate.

If it had been snails and frogs'legs she would have eaten with relish, simply so as not to give Zachary Cartwright another opportunity of pointing out how unsuitable camp life was for a woman. As it was, the rice was filling and hot, and the slab of chocolate was sweet and delicious.

‘The drawing you did was exceptional,' Charles said, standing a few feet away from her, a tin mug of steaming tea in his hands. ‘It's very rare for a non-botanist to be so botanically correct. Isn't that so, Zac?'

Zachary Cartwright gave a grunt that could have meant anything and continued with his notes, Gianetta's drawing propped up on the table in front of him.

‘Zac wants you to show him exactly where you camped the night before last, and where you found the potentilla,' Charles continued, blandly ignoring the fact that his two companions were obviously barely on speaking terms.

‘But that would mean delaying your journey by another day,' she protested, surprised. ‘Is the flower really so important?'

‘The flower won't cause us any delay,' Zachary Cartwright said tersely. ‘It is
you
who are causing the delay, Miss Hollis. You can point out the place where you camped when we trace your steps back to Chung King. We shall be setting off in half an hour.'

He was wearing the dove-grey breeches and knee-high velvet-cuffed boots that he had been wearing when he had set off from the Residency, but the white linen shirt he had been wearing then had been changed for one of a deep wine-red.

‘Wouldn't it perhaps be more suitable if
I
returned Gianetta to Chung King?' Charles said, his voice studiedly casual. ‘After all, I think I
did
get on with the Consul a little more easily than you did, and explaining to him that Gianetta left Chung King and followed us without our knowledge isn't going to be easy. He might take it better from me than from you.'

‘Are you not both returning to Chung King?' Gianetta asked, forgetting for the moment that she had still no intention that
anyone
should return there.

‘No,' Charles turned towards her, with a frank grin. ‘Zac intends that I should remain here, with the Chinese, while he rides alone with you to Chung King.'

‘It will be quicker that way,' Zachary said briefly, his dark head still bent over the notes he was making. ‘There's no sense in the pack mules trailing all that way and back for nothing.'

‘None at all,' Charles agreed easily. ‘And no reason for
you
to face the Consul's wrath, when
I
can bring the pressure of my name to bear and when he will, rightly or wrongly, believe our innocence a little more readily from me than he would from you.'

Gianetta felt her nerves begin to throb. She still had no intention of being returned to Chung King, though she still hadn't a plan for how it could be avoided. But if the worst came to the worst and she
was
returned, she knew with devastating certainty that she didn't want to return with Charles as her sole companion.

Zachary Cartwright had put his pencil down and had turned to look at her. She knew by the expression in his narrow eyes that he also knew why Charles had suggested that he escort her, and that he believed her to be eager that he do so.

‘No, Charles,' he said curtly, rising to his feet. ‘I am taking Miss Hollis back to Chung King. You will remain here with the stores and provisions.'

It was such a direct order that even despite her relief, Gianetta was shocked. She saw a faint flush touch Charles'cheeks, and his jaw clenched.

‘Very well,' he said shortly, and Gianetta knew that though he was taking great care not to sound it, inwardly he was furiously angry. ‘I'm going for a walk,' he said, not looking at either of them, but slamming his empty tin mug down on the table and turning abruptly on his heels.

‘I have two specimens here that we collected yesterday, Miss Hollis,' Zachary Cartwright said, as if the angry exit had never taken place. ‘Could you perhaps draw them for me in my field book while I make preparations for our journey?'

‘Yes,' she said, wondering how on earth she could persuade him that the journey was unnecessary; that no great harm would come to either his or Lord Rendlesham's reputation if she was to continue with them; that she would be a helpful,
useful
member of their expedition, if only he would give her the chance.

He strode away toward the ponies and mules and she picked up his pencil, beginning to draw the two flowers that stood in tiny jars of water on the desk. She wouldn't go back. She
wouldn't
. But how on earth was she going to be able to stay?

Ten minutes later there came an agonized shout, and then a roaring sound as rocks and boulders crashed down into the river. She dropped her pencil, leaping to her feet, looking down-river to where, some fifty or seventy yards away, a great cloud of dust was billowing skywards.

‘It's Charles!'
Zachary shouted.
‘The bank has given way!'
He sprinted away from the ponies and down along the river bank to where the cloud of dust was beginning to disperse and settle.

There came another desperate shout, this time for help, and Gianetta began to run in Zachary Cartwright's wake.

The river-bank where they had camped had been shallow, and access to the water had been easy. Seventy yards away, at the point Charles had reached on his angry march, the ground rose steeply into a sandstone bank littered with rocks and boulders. He had been scrambling among these, trying to work off his rage at Zachary's humiliating high-handedness, when he had dislodged one. The falling rock had hit and bounced off another and then the whole bank had given way, rocks and boulders and Charles, all tumbling down in a furious cascade into the water.

‘Keep your head up!' she heard Zachary shout, and then Charles' tight, frightened voice shouted back, ‘I can't! I've hurt my arm!'

She ran furiously in Zachary's wake. When he reached the point where the bank had given way, he leapt and slithered down it, hurling himself into the river where Charles was painfully struggling.

By the time she had reached the rock-fall, Zachary was swimming for the bank, hauling a white-faced Charles behind him.

She took the bank as Zachary had done, slithering down it and wading out to help him bring Charles ashore.

‘My arm! It's broken!' Charles gasped. ‘Of all the stupid, nonsensical things to have done!'

There was no disputing his diagnosis. His arm hung, ugly and deformed, the bone of the elbow protruding through the skin.

‘I can put a splint on it, but it isn't a straightforward break,' Zac panted, taking Charles'weight as they scaled the still-crumbling sandstone.

‘It hurts like the very devil!' Charles looked as if he were about to faint. ‘Will it mend straight, do you think? It won't heal short … or odd … or anything?'

‘I'll tell you when I've had a closer look at it,' Zachary said tersely and then, to Gianetta, ‘The first-aid box is with the stores. It's clearly marked. Run ahead and get it out and opened.'

She nodded, taking a last fleeting look at Charles's dripping wet figure. He had begun to shake with shock and, as she sprinted back to the camp, she hoped fervently that there would be some brandy as well as the first-aid box amongst the stores.

The Chinese were standing immobile, the expression on their faces one of alarm.

‘There's been an accident,' she said briefly. ‘Can you boil some water and make some tea?'

She wasn't sure if Zachary Cartwright would need boiling water for whatever he was about to do to Charles' arm, but she was certainly in need of a cup of tea.

The first-aid box, with a vivid red cross painted on the lid, was easily found, and by the time Zachary had helped Charles into camp and seated him in one of the canvas chairs, Gianetta had it open and at his side.

‘Is there any brandy?' she asked Zachary. ‘The Chinese are boiling water for tea, but …'

‘There's brandy in my saddle-bag,' Zachary said briefly. ‘There's no need for tea.'

‘Oh yes, there is,' she retorted spiritedly. ‘
I
want the tea!'

He looked towards her, his eyebrows raised, a flicker of grudging amusement in his dark eyes. ‘Yes,' he said. ‘Of course.'

To her stunned surprise, she found herself flashing him a smile before she hurried off to search his saddle-bag for the brandy. When she returned, Zachary had removed Charles' shirt, and Charles'face was grey, his jaw clenched against the pain.

‘It's a compound fracture,' Zachary was saying. ‘You're going to have to decide whether you want me to do my best with it and continue with the expedition, or whether you want to return to Chung King for proper medical attention.'

‘What will happen if I stay?' Charles asked, white-lipped.

‘It will heal. Healthy bones always do. But it will never be the same as it was before.'

‘And if I go back to Chung King?'

‘Then you'll be able to have the bone set correctly. In three months'time it will be as good as new.'

‘How will I get back to Chung King? I won't be able to ride.'

‘You will,' Zachary said, taking a sling and bandages out of the first-aid box. Although Charles seemed not to notice, there was a subtle change in the inflection of his voice.

Gianetta looked across at him. Charles was sucking his breath in sharply, clenching his teeth together as Zachary began to bind the arm in a secure sling. He wasn't going to say so, but she knew that he was disappointed in Charles.

If Zachary had fractured his arm she knew he would never, for one moment, have considered calling off the expedition and returning for medical help. Somehow or other, he would have continued. But Charles wasn't Zachary. His commitment to the expedition was not as fierce, or as obsessed. To Charles, the expedition was merely an adventure, an adventure that had gone wrong and that he now wanted to have nothing more to do with.

‘Drink the brandy, Charles,' Zachary said to him as Gianetta poured a generous measure into one of the tin drinking mugs. ‘I'm going to bind the sling very firmly against your body. You'll be able to balance and ride with your good arm once the shock has worn off.'

Charles downed the brandy, closing his eyes against the pain as Zachary began to bind his arm into position.

After a while Charles said, ‘So we're all going back? We're all going to return to Chung King?'

Zachary secured the broad bandaging with a safety-pin and stood up, looking down at him. ‘I don't think there's any need,' he said at last. ‘Gianetta has to return, and she might as well do so with you. Two of the Chinese can go with you. I'll carry on as intended and pick up replacement men at the next town.'

At the unexpected use of her Christian name, Gianetta's eyes flew open wide. It was the first time he had referred to her as anything but Miss Hollis. She wondered if he was aware of his lapse into familiarity and if so, what had occasioned it. She also wondered how Charles felt at being considered a suitable escort only now that he was disabled.

‘Well … if you think that would suit,' Charles said uncertainly. From the tone of his voice, Gianetta knew that he desperately wanted Zachary to return to Chung King with him, but that pride would not allow him to ask him to do so.

‘Yes I do,' Zachary said, and the last flicker of hope died in Charles' eyes. ‘It's only a two-day ride and it isn't over difficult country.'

‘But will you be able to continue with the expedition by yourself?' Charles asked, a little colour beginning to return to his cheeks.

Zachary grinned. ‘If I managed in the Himalayas, I can manage in Kansu. The local Chinese are very easy to train as assistant collectors, and they quickly pick up the art of changing drying papers. I shall be able to obtain all the help that I need.'

‘What are drying papers?' Gianetta asked, interested.