Legend of Love by Melinda Cross

Author:Melinda Cross
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 1992-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

FOR the better part of an hour Cage paddled the oddly short aluminium canoe through a labyrinth of serpentine waterways. Melanie sat on the front bench, resisting the urge to look back at him. She barely noticed the green, brackish water slipping beneath the hull, the riotous colour of jumbo orchids peeking through the deeply shaded jungle around them, or even the feathery strands of moss dangling from overhead branches, sometimes brushing against her face like the dainty webs of spiders. She was too busy wrestling with her emotions, remembering what had happened between them back on the forest floor, and trying to forget what had been said afterwards.

Forever. That was what she had decided back there—that Cage was what she wanted for the rest of her life. That was love, wasn’t it? But what did love become when it wasn’t returned? Could it even exist at all?

She worried the questions in troubled silence, unaware of Cage’s eyes on her from the back, flickering with something like pain whenever she lifted her head or moved her shoulders in a sigh.

After a time he spoke occasionally, but only to point out an unusual plant or bird, or to call her attention to once-lush areas now drained dry by the canals and choked with brush. It was doubly painful that he could speak so calmly of such inconsequential things, as if nothing at all had happened between them. Very little of what he said registered, but she felt the sound of his voice through every nerve in her body.

‘There used to be thousands of snowy egrets nesting right here,’ he said at one point. ‘Now the water is gone, the fish are gone, and the egrets are gone, too. That’s our water-management system for you.’

Her only response was to nod absently as she rubbed at her arms, trying to erase the memory of the way his hands had felt on her skin.

At times the watery road they followed seemed to disappear in a thick jumble of floating lilies, but Cage just continued to paddle through the viney mass, always finding a clear passage beyond.

Eventually he steered the canoe into a part of the bank that looked exactly like every other part, and tossed a line over an overhanging branch. ‘We’re here,’ he said perfunctorily, extending a hand to help her on to the reedy shore.

Melanie clung to his hand until he pulled away and pushed through the undergrowth to a hidden path. Without a backward glance to make sure she could follow through grasses and ferns taller than she was, he stomped ahead into a stand of old-growth mahogany. For the first time in well over an hour she felt the edge of her pain sharpen into resentment.

Beau would never do that, she thought bitterly, hurrying to keep Cage in sight. Beau would never push on ahead and leave me to find my own way. He’d be right back here next to me, one hand on my elbow, eyes watchful to make sure I didn’t step wrong.

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