A great white egret flew on a beam of sunlight. It landed on the surface of the water just in front of their boat.

Frenchy slowed to a crawl.

The kingly bird eyed them as he floated on the gently rolling swamp surface. Brigitte's excited voice played in the background of Jeanette's conscious mind, but she couldn't take her eyes off the regal bird. As the boat floated within a few feet of the resting animal, his head bowed down. Jeanette thought he wanted to catch his dinner, just below the water's surface.

But she was wrong.

As she continued to gaze at the magnificent creature, he lifted his crowned head and met her eyes. She could have sworn he nodded to her, before taking off on a ray of sunlight, back to the tops of the trees, then off to the sky.

Lingering in aftermath of the great bird's skyward path, Jeanette thought she heard Paul's voice saying: '"You are safe here."'

Or maybe it was just the egret's farewell cry.

But somewhere deep in her soul she knew no harm would come to her or hers in the bayou.

All fear, all the darkness in her soul followed the great bird on his flight. Her faith had been restored by the nod of one of God's creatures.

Before turning back to Brigitte, she sent a prayer of safety for Scott on the beam of sunlight now fading with the dusk.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE.

'Pantanal Region, Brazil, November 30th'

Through the overhang of swamp trees lining a minor tributary of the Araguaia River, Scott searched the leaden sky. It had rained for most of the month it had taken them to travel this far, and the skies didn't show signs of letting up anytime soon.

Ignoring the burning pain in his arm, he deftly guided the small boat. Sam had assured him that the waterways would be deep enough to use the mighty little outboard until they reached Brasilia. The closer to civilization they got, the more likely the rivers would be dredged to promote water traffic and the commerce it brought.

In the last two days they'd seen three large floating hotels conveying tourists on wildlife expeditions. Last night they had stayed at a hotel-'fazenda,' and had debated joining one of the tours as it traveled back toward civilization. They'd decided against it. The closer they got to civilization, the more likely they would be caught by One World mercenaries. No use exposing innocent tourists to danger.

Their one deadly meeting with Lopez's hirelings two weeks ago was still fresh in Scott's mind. Since then, they'd been lucky. If you called dealing with man-eating caimans, sapping sauna-like heat, constant, often torrential rains, and living off the river and land lucky.

For a time during the attack, Scott had thought they'd bought the farm for sure. Besides a little help from whatever gods were watching over the trio, he'd had his Marine training to thank for saving their hides. Not to mention, able sidekicks in the form of loyal Sam and a gutsy Rosalie.

The day of the attack had been much like today. Partially overcast, it had stopped raining. The clouds and the forest overhang spared them the intermittent appearance of the hot sun which turned the humid air and the cool surface of the river into a steam bath.

Sam had just put into shore to find lunch and, with luck, supper. The able guide had proven adept at reading the signs of wildlife, and he thought he'd seen evidence of a herd of capybara, a sort of a pig-like creature, watering along the stretch of water on which they traveled. He hoped to catch a small one, butcher it, and cook it for a hot noon meal with the leftovers taking care of the evening meal when they next made camp.

For most of the trip, when they couldn't find a river 'fazenda' or a friendly village, they'd camp out. Both Scott and Sam had wanted to avoid fires at night for a variety of reasons, but mostly to avoid attracting both two-legged and four-legged predators. Most nights, they slept anchored slightly off-shore, away from predators and shoreline insects.

On the day of the attack, after they had anchored the boat in knee-deep water, Rosalie and Scott had searched the jungle areas for fruit and edible plants while Sam walked deeper into the jungle. The boat had scared the capybara away from the water's edge. Sam would have to track them to their land shelter.

Scott couldn't recall exactly how it happened, but somehow Rosalie had wandered off, out of his sight. He had been getting ready to go find her when he heard her scream.

The following hours had been dicey. Sam and he had combined their skills and knowledge in order to divide and conquer the mercenaries who'd been sent to kill them.

Rosalie had been saved, and all of her kidnappers slain. They'd left the bodies for the jungle to dispose of. The circle of life and death was a part of the jungle. The strong survived and the weak became food. Scott hadn't wanted to hang around long enough to discover where in the grand scheme of things the three of them fit.

Yet, for that one day, Sam, Rosalie and he were the strong, because they had survived.

"Scott?"

Rosalie's touch on his arm caused him to gasp. The wound he'd received in their flight from San Jacinto had been giving him fits in the last few days. They'd run out of the medicine man's healing bark and the First Aid kit's antibiotics days ago. It was a good thing they were getting closer to civilization.

Rosalie gentled her touch.

He tried to tell her he was okay. Her fingers now stroked his forehead. The soothing motion reminded him of Jeannie. She'd touched him that way once, when he'd had a bad cold. But he'd had a fever that time. He was sure he didn't have one now. In fact, he was freezing.

Damn, it would be nice to see Jeannie and Little Bits again. Another week or so to make Brasilia. And with any luck, they would be on a plane out of there the same day they arrived. He could be back in New Orleans in less than two weeks -- if everything went as planned. If.

"Scott?"

Rosalie's voice was louder now. Why was she yelling?

"Scott. You don't look well."

Her touch on his forehead felt like burning needles. Why was the boat going in circles?

"Sam! Help me, he's falling..."

Into a swirling vortex, down, down he went. Faster and faster. So fast that the bottom came up to meet him, then he knew no more.

CHAPTER FORTY.

'December 14th, a fazenda one week outside of Brasilia.'

Wading up through a thick fog of unconsciousness, Scott felt disoriented.

The room was dark. No light of any kind filtered into the space. All around

him was colored in varying shades of black.

He could not ever remember being anywhere this dark.

He lifted his head off the bed, then immediately dropped it back to a flat, hard

pillow. Flashes of red and yellow pin dots of light swam across his field of

vision. What was wrong with him? Where was he? A hospital?

He sniffed the air. There was a musky scent in the room. Definitely not a medicinal smell. It was too quiet for the normal 24/7 hustle and bustle of a hospital.

Keeping his head motionless, he lifted a shaky arm and investigated his immediate surroundings. His fingers found a warm body, close to him, but not quite touching. The soft flesh felt female. A low moan, then a breathy sigh confirmed the identification.

"Scott?" A sleep-filled female voice spoke. "At last. You are awake."

He was confused. Why was Rosalie in his bed? He remembered Jeannie being there. That must have been a dream, mere nocturnal wishful thinking.

"Rosalie?"

Was that his weak, thready voice?

"Yes." Cool fingers reached out and stroked his forehead. "It is Rosalie."

"What happened?" His throat ached. His mouth felt dry and tasted like crap.

"Water?"

A glass touched his lips and he drank greedily until he could take no more.

"You've been very ill. Sam and I were very worried."

"What day is it?"

"It is December 14th."

The fourteenth? He had been unconscious since November 30th.

"Where are we?"

"Sam got us to a 'fazenda' about a week out of Brasilia." Rosalie sat up in the bed and turned on a light. "We couldn't chance taking you any further. You were burning up and the root medicines Sam found were barely keeping the fever in check. You had become delirious, and we were afraid you would do harm to yourself."

Damn. What had been happening in Louisiana while he'd been out of commission? Was Jeannie alive? Did she think he'd abandoned her?

"Jeannie."

"I managed to contact your mother's house. No one was there. I left a message telling them you were safe and not to worry." Rosalie's worried gaze captured his. "Was that okay? Did I do right? I was afraid to tell them too much -- I wasn't sure who would be getting the message."

Scott smiled. "That was perfect. Thank you. I'm hungry. Is there anything to eat?"

He wasn't really, but he knew he had to gain his strength back.

Rosalie swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. "I'll get the manager to find you some nourishing food. Sam and I have only been able to get some fluids, the root medicines and some soup down you."

"Where is Sam?"

"He is asleep across the hall." Rosalie opened the door. "We took turns watching over you. I couldn't have done this without his help. He has been a godsend."

"I'll make sure he is rewarded."

Scott lay on his back while Rosalie went to order his food.

Now that he was fully conscious, he realized he had no clothes on. He blushed.

Chancing the dizziness that had overcome him earlier, Scott pushed himself up in the bed. His arms shook with the effort, but he managed. He saw his clothes hanging over the back of a chair near the door. Maybe he could get his pants on before Rosalie returned.

Carefully, he sat up on the side of the bed. As he leveraged his arms to either side of him, he came into contact with something sticky. He raised his fingers to his nose.

Sex. The substance smelled like sex. Fresh sex.

Scott groaned. The dreams he recalled must have not been dreams. What had he done?

By the time Rosalie returned with a tray of simple food, Scott had managed to

get his pants on. The effort had taken what little strength he had. He barely made it back to bed before he collapsed on top of the covers.

"Scott." Rosalie's voice and face scolded. "You shouldn't have gotten up

without someone to help you. You are still too weak."

"Not so weak that I couldn't take advantage of you." Scott looked anywhere but at Rosalie. "Did I hurt you?"

"No." Rosalie set the tray down on the bedside table. Taking Scott's chin in