Midnight rainbow

He cut the tape from around her ankles, and again she was subjected to his rough but effective massage.

In only a moment she was being pulled to her feet; she staggered momentarily before regaining her sense of balance.

"We don’t have much farther to go; stay right behind me, and don’t say a word."

"Wait!" Jane whispered frantically. "How can I follow you when I can’t see you?"

He took her hand and carried it to his waist. "Hang on to my belt."

She did better than that. Acutely aware of the vast jungle around her, and with only his presence shielding her from the night terrors, she hooked her fingers inside the waistband of his pants in a death grip. She knotted the material so tightly that he muttered a protest, but she wasn’t about to let go of him.

Maybe it didn’t seem very far to him, but to Jane, being towed in his wake, stumbling over roots and vines that she couldn’t see, it seemed like miles before he halted. "We’ll wait here," he whispered. "I don’t want to go any closer until I hear the helicopter come in."

"When will that be?" Jane whispered back, figuring that if he could talk, so could she.

"A little after dawn."

"When is dawn?"

"Half an hour."

Still clutching the waistband of his pants, she stood behind him and waited for dawn. The seconds and minutes crawled by, but they gave her the chance to realize for the first time that she’d truly escaped from Turego. She was safe and free… well almost. She was out of his clutches, she was the only one who knew what a close call she’d had. Turego would almost certainly return to the plantation this morning to find that his prisoner had escaped. For a moment she was surprised at her own lack of elation, then she realized that she wasn’t out of danger yet. This man said that her father had sent him, but he hadn’t given her a name or any proof. All she had was his word, and Jane was more than a little wary. Until she was actually on American soil, until she knew beyond any doubt that she was safe, she was going to follow poor George Persall’s ironclad rule: when in doubt, lie.

The man shifted uncomfortably, drawing her attention. "Look, honey, do you think you could loosen up on my pants? Or are you trying to finish the job you started on me with your knee?"

Jane felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and she hastily released her hold. "I’m sorry, I didn’t realize," she whispered. She stood stiffly for a moment, her arms at her sides; then panic began to rise in her. She couldn’t see him in the darkness, she couldn’t hear him breathing, and now that she was no longer touching him, she couldn’t be certain that he hadn’t left her. Was he still there? What if she was alone? The air became thick and oppressive, and she struggled to breathe, to fight down the fear that she knew was unreasonable but that no amount of reason could conquer. Even knowing its source didn’t help. She simply couldn’t stand the darkness. She couldn’t sleep without a light; she never went into a room without first reaching in and turning on the light switch, and she always left her lights on if she knew she would be late returning home. She, who always took extraordinary precautions against being left in the dark, was standing in the middle of a jungle in darkness so complete that it was like being blind.

Her fragile control broke and she reached out wildly, clawing for him, for reassurance that he was still there. Her outstretched fingers touched fabric, and she threw herself against him, gasping in mingled panic and relief. The next second steely fingers grasped her shirt and she was hurled through the air to land flat on her back in the smelly, rotting vegetation. Before she could move, before she could suck air back into her lungs, her hair was pulled back and she felt the suffocating pressure of his knee on her chest again. His breath was a low rasp above her, his voice little more than a snarl "Don’t ever–ever–come at me from behind again."

Jane writhed, pushing at his knee. After a moment he lifted it, and eased the grip on her hair. Even being thrown over his shoulder had been better than being left alone in the darkness, and she grabbed for him again, catching him around the knees. Automatically he tried to step away from her entangling arms but she lunged for him. He uttered a startled curse, tried to regain his balance, then crashed to the ground.

He lay so still that Jane’s heart plummeted. What would she do if he were hurt? She couldn’t possibly carry him, but neither could she leave him lying there, injured and unable to protect himself. Feeling her way up his body, she scrambled to crouch by his shoulders. "Mister, are you all right?" she whispered, running her hands up his shoulders to his face, then searching his head for any cuts or lumps. There was an elasticized band around his head, and she followed it, her nervous fingers finding an odd type of glasses over his eyes. "Are you hurt?" she demanded again, her voice tight with fear. "Damn it, answer me!"

"Lady," the man said in a low, furious voice, "you’re crazier than hell. If I was your daddy, I’d pay Turego to keep you!"

She didn’t know him, but his words caused an odd little pain in her chest. She sat silently, shocked that he could hurt her feelings. She didn’t know him, and he didn’t know her–how could his opinion matter? But it did, somehow, and she felt strangely vulnerable.

He eased himself to a sitting position, and when she didn’t say anything, he sighed. "Why did you jump me like that?" he asked in resignation.

"I’m afraid of the dark," she said with quiet dignity. "I couldn’t hear you breathing, and I can’t see a thing. I panicked. I’m sorry."

After a moment he said, "All right," and got to his feet. Bending down, he grasped her wrists and pulled her up to stand beside him. Jane inched a little closer to him.