Chapter 9

It was clear that he had made his mind up about her on sight and he had a definite air of command----uncompromising. It almost panicked. She needed help not accusation. What would he say if she told him she felt ill? Somehow she knew. He would look after her, protect her, and be damned disparaging without saying one word. He wasn't going to get the chance. And she wasn't going to feel scared and insignificant either.

She came to her feet, lightly and easily, almost seeming to float upwards.

'Thank you. I expect a hotel has been booked for me?'

'The very best, I assure you. Newly built and luxurious. The Kambala Hotel. The most spectacular that Madembi can offer.' His wry look told her he understood that she was used to only the best, that was accustomed to being pampered, but she wasn't in any condition to do battle and his words had dismayed her.

'But----but I thought I'd be staying here until tomorrow. It's been a long flight and I thought. . .'

'I'm flying you out immediately, Miss West.' His dark eyes looked faintly sardonic, skimming over her slight figure. We'll be in Madembi by this evening.'

'I see. I have to catch another plane.' Natalie tried to keep the depression out of her voice and evidently succeeded because after a swift glance at her he gave her a cool smile.

'A brief walk. The plane will almost catch you.' He picked up her luggage. 'Is this all? Two small cases and this bag? You're quite sure there isn't a large trunk somewhere.'

So he got her categorised! She met his derisive eyes with a blaze of green.

'I travel a lot, Mr Forsythe. I don't burden myself with large amount of luggage. My clothes have to be uncrushable. The bag is the only that needs care. It hold equipment.'

'The modern working woman.' He gave a brief appraisal to her clothes, the swinging skirt of her dress, the fashionable black scandals, his eyes narrowing in caustic amusement when she flushed softly, her hands smoothing her hair back from her face. 'You'll need more than uncrushable things if you're to go clambering around the kambala dam.'

'You can leave it safely to me, Mr. Forsythe.' Natalie closed her lips firmly----end of conversation as far as she was concerned. If he had been an uncompromising masculine figure she would have mentioned that she felt faint and sick. She kept it to herself. she had managed so far and she could manage to get to this hotel, even if it was another flight away. His opinion of her was written all over his face.

It was unusual for her to feel quite like this. In spite of her almost constant fear of flying, it had never made her feel actually ill before. No doubt a good night's sleep would put her right. She sincerely hoped so. She had managed never to be unwell so far from home. Normally, she was pretty tough, competent and dedicated, hardly ever ill. It would be just her luck to have to throw herself on the mercy of this golden giant with scathing dark eyes.

She followed him out, back into the blazing sun, watching him walk with an easy, athletic assurance that was bordering on the autocratic. He was wearing white jeans, Italian from the look of them, and the black sports shirt was a stark contrast to the crips fair hair. With his good looks and the brilliant hair against a golden tan he should have never looked like a film star. He didn't though; at least, if he did then it was someone who only played tough roles.

She knew she would have to keep up her guard, the efficient, resilient look of a TV woman that had stood her in good stead for a very long time. It fooled everyone else including her own father.

'Natalie is a tough little thing.' She had heard him say that plenty of times. pride in his voice, certain knowledge that she was a chip off the old block. She kept her inner quakings to herself, and now was a good time to keep up the act because she felt that any moment this man was going to turn and say something crisply sardonic.

The plane was small, a light aircraft like a moth, red and white, parked in a small area that housed other private planes and Natalie looked rather anxiously for the pilot, hoping for a more fatherly figure who might just be interested in her headache.