The Clouds Beneath the Sun Read Online Free PDF Page A

Russell North’s voice but hadn’t heard him approach. She had thought everyone was in bed. She turned and looked up at him—he towered over her. “You’ve found me out,” she whispered, raising the cap of her whiskey flask. “Drinking in secret.”
    He sat down in the other canvas chair, on the far side of the small writing table they all had. The canvas complained as it stretched under his weight. “Your secret is safe with me. It’s not a silly rule to ban booze on digs, but a late-night nip can’t do any harm.”
    He pulled at the sleeve of his shirt where it had been caught up with his watch. He was wearing a khaki shirt and jeans and a pair of what she now knew Americans (and Australians who lived in America) called loafers. No socks. Red hair showed on his chest above where his shirt was unbuttoned. But his eyelashes were fair, golden almost.
    He looked at her for a moment without speaking, absently rubbing a finger down his cheek.
    At length he said, softly, “I came to apologize, Natalie. Dick shouldn’t have yelled at you like he did tonight. He was out of line, way out. But we are both so fired up. This find is big— big . We’ve got to get into print as soon as we possibly can. Dick and I are working on that, but he was over the top in going for you like a baboon on heat. I’m sorry. Really.”
    A wind stirred. The stunted calls of bats, overhead, punctuated the silence.
    “Are we forgiven?”
    What did Russell mean, that Dick and he were working on how they could go into print quickly? But she was relieved he had come to apologize, even if it was really Richard who should be sitting here. So all she said was “Thank you. Of course I forgive you. It is an important find and I’m glad I was here when it happened.” She held out the cup of whiskey.
    “Can you spare it?” Instinctively, he looked across to Eleanor’s tent, which was in darkness. “I’d love one.”
    “Only on condition that you don’t betray me to the authorities.”
    He made a mock salute. “Deal.”
    She handed him the cap she was drinking from, which formed the lid of the flask that contained the whiskey.
    “Ahhh,” he said softly, downing the scotch. “That hits the spot.”
    They sat together in a companionable silence.
    “Listen to the baboons,” he said at length, as a burst of screaming could be heard. “They’re worse than we are.” He looked about him and went on, “You can tell this is a woman’s tent.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Little touches. This is your very first day here but… that photograph there, the little vase of flowers, above all the smell. Is it perfume, or talcum powder, or what?”
    “The photograph is of my parents. The flowers were a gift, put there by Mgina—you know, the woman who cleans the tents. The smell, if there is a smell, can only be soap. Who would bring perfume on a dig?”
    The minute she said it, she smiled. “Arnold Pryce!”
    Russell grinned. “Well, no one ever puts flowers in my tent. All my tent smells of is sweat and dust. You must come visit.” He grinned again and stood up, and so did Natalie. For a brief moment, they stood very close together, so close she could smell him. He was wearing some sort of aftershave, not as strong as Arnold Pryce’s but not just sweat and dust.
    He said nothing but looked down at her, breathing hard. The shadows slid over his throat as he swallowed and his Adam’s apple moved.
    “Good night.” He turned, ducked under the guy ropes that held up the tent, and was gone.
    Natalie hid away the whiskey flask and tidied a few things that didn’t need tidying. She was glad Russell had apologized. He was a not unattractive man. Not in the Dominic class, of course—
    She checked herself. She must stop making these comparisons. Dom was gone, gone .
    She moved around the tent for a few minutes, changing into her pajamas, brushing her hair and teeth, until she could be certain Russell was back in his own quarters. Then she took