Page 31 of A Scandal In July
Rhys rolled his shoulders. “The coast of Portugal was like that. Not that I saw it for more than five minutes before we all marched inland.”
She cast around for something positive to say about their predicament. “At least there are no snakes here. Or insects that might kill you. The jungle’s full of snakes and spiders that are deadly. Thefer de lance, for example, can kill a person with just one bite.”
Rhys seemed to have recovered his previous good humor. He turned around and sat back down next to her. “That’s true. We only have a few adders over here in Wales. I’ve never seen one.”
She nodded. “And no water snakes either. I wrestled one once, you know. In Brazil.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Rhys’s tone was dry and slightly mocking, but she took it as a compliment, not an insult.
“I didn’tmeanto,” she protested. “But it seized one of the village dogs and I couldn’t just let it just squeeze the poor thing to death right in front of me, could I?”
“Course not,” Rhys said. “Totally reasonable reaction. Anyone else would have run screaming into the jungle, but not you. Not a Mad Montgomery. You decide to wrestle the thing. With your bare hands, no doubt. Or did you employ the same method you used with the panther, and use your shoe?”
Lenore looked out over the lake, not quite sure if he was mocking her or not. He sounded more amused than censorious.
“Well, first I hit it with a stick, and when that didn’t work, I put a rope around its throat and tugged until it let go of the dog and slithered off into the jungle.” She shrugged. “It was quite a small anaconda. A male, probably. The females can get to be enormous.”
Rhys gave a theatrical shiver. “I have never been more glad to be back on Britain’s boring, rainy shores.”
Lenore chuckled. “The only snakes you find here are the ones slithering around the ballrooms of Mayfair, trying to snare a rich wife.”
She sighed and picked another daisy. The last one had finished onhe loves me not, which was . . . unacceptable.
She’d try best of three.
“I’m sure we won’t be here for long,” she said bracingly. “Someone will come and rescue us. It’s not as if they’re going to make us stay here all night.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I had to wait weeks to be rescued near Madagascar, but it wasn’t that bad. There were plenty of people talk to, and enough food. Only Caro had the misfortune to be separated from the rest of us. She and Max were swept onto a different island, just the two of them.”
“And now he’s her husband,” Gryff growled.
Lenore shrugged. “Being stranded is obviously a good way for people to bond.”
“Or to convince them that murder isn’t such a terrible idea after all,” he said dryly.
“Oh, hush. This isn’t so bad. It’s a pleasant way to pass the evening.”
To prove her point she leaned back on the springy grass and put her hands behind her head. The late afternoon sunlight dappled her face through the fluttering leaves and sparkled off the rippled surface of the water.
Rhys gave a deep sigh of resignation. “You’re right. It could be a lot worse.”
Lenore wasn’t sure how to take that comment.
Chapter Fifteen
Rhys reached down and tugged off his wet boots and set them in a patch of sunlight to start drying, then peeled off his stockings.
Lenore turned her head and sneaked a glance at his long, tanned feet as he wriggled his toes in the grass, then went to cool them off in the water. Not to be outdone, she sat up and unlaced her ankle boots and removed her own stockings, relishing the naughty thrill of undressing, even partly, next to him.
But he only glanced her way once as she hitched up her skirts and waded into the shallows, then bent to inspect a patch of little yellow lily flowers floating nearby.
“In Brazil they have lily pads that are big enough for a person to sit on,” Lenore said, desperate to keep his interest. “Like little boats. And quite a few of the tribes have legends about them.”
“What kind of legends?”
“Of how the lily flowers are the spirits of beautiful maidens who’ve drowned in the water.”