Crimson Rapture (23 page)

Christina
couldn't hear Jacob's reply but Justin's voice sounded loud and clear with its
warning.

"Don't
push our friendship further than I'll let it go!

Silence.
The voices stopped as quickly as they started. Christina was shocked; even
Jacob wanted Diego killed! How hard it must be for Justin to hold to his
principles...

* * * * *

"She's
leadin' 'em on, prancin' about like a she-cat in heat, practically promising
each poor sod a piece once her house is built."

Neither
Jacob's crude words nor the disgust in his voice were lost on Justin as he
rowed out to the barrier reef that marked the far side of the lagoon. He had
been gone two days and two nights to hunt boar again and upon his return, one
of his men presented him with the news that a large reef shark fed in the
lagoon. One thought of another attack of Christina's legs had determined the
day's task, and they hoped to add shark to the boar feast that night.

"I
know, Justin replied, not interrupting the athletic grace of his endeavor.

"You
know?" Jacob repeated as though unconvinced. "Well that thar house
will be finished inside of a week and it don't take a devil's imagination to
know what's going to happen when John and the others find 'the lady' has her
door barred." The sun was already blistering hot. He took off his straw
hat, wiped his forehead, and replaced it. "Well," he prodded,
"what are you going to do?"

"I,
my friend, am going to do nothing." Justin did not miss a beat with either
oar or the conversation. "It's her game and she's played it before. It
will be my pleasure to show her what happens when she plays the game with real
men instead of an innocent old gent."

Jacob
glanced over the smooth blanket of blue water, studying it intently as he
imagined a scene played out there. "She's not likely to survive
that."

"No,
probably not."

* * * * *

Feigning
a weak voice, Carolyn called out, "Who is it?" Not that she didn't
know.

John
chuckled good-naturedly at this, passed the coconut jar of rum to one of the
four others, and replied, " 'Tis ye lovers of last resort, my lady."

"I'm
not feeling well," Carolyn said, finding it increasingly difficult to
conceal her growing irritation at the men's near-constant interruptions. The
idiots build her a lousy one-room shack, hardly suitable for a servant and they
expect—what do they expect? Surely not that—even these imbeciles couldn't
harbor such a notion.

"Oh
aye, my lady, we've heard that before, haven't we, mates?" John received
quick agreement from the others. "But that's w'at we've come about,"
he continued, actually enjoying this game while it lasted. "We've come
bearing gifts... ah, get-well-quick gifts, ye might say."

Samuel
almost lost a mouthful of rum at this. He was not an unattractive man: he was
tall and well built, with sandy blond hair and an incongruent smattering of
freckles across a strong nose, well-chiseled cheeks. After managing to swallow
and wipe his mouth, he corrected John through his laughter. "Not
gifts—bribes! We've come to force ye to choose. Which one of us bastards are ya
going to make happy?"

"Very
happy," another added.

Carolyn's
face reddened with anger. So, the oafs did own the bloody gumption to think
that she—Lady Carolyn Knolls—would choose from a pack of barbaric sailors,
hardly fit to groom her horse yet alone engage in such grandiose speculation.
She couldn't believe it, the idea almost made her laugh.

Though
she had led them on a bit...

"Well,
gentlemen," she resumed, dismissing those thoughts, "I am not
entertaining visitors today. You may leave," and to make certain they
understood their position—"Dismissed."

This
was met with wild hoots of laughter. "Dismissed, is it?" John
questioned, a bright sparkle in his eyes. "You might not have noticed but
we're on a godforsaken island, my lady," always placing exaggerated
emphasis on her title. "Aye, and there ain't nowheres to dismiss us—which
means—"

"—ye
ain't gonna shake us," another man finished for him.

"Aye,
you're stuck," Samuel explained. "You choose one or ye get us
all!"

Carolyn
refused to condescend an answer. She'd have to speak to their great lord and
master about it. The idea of talking to Justin brought a smile and she
vigorously renewed brushing her hair, a brush taken from Christina's trunk. If
only she had something decent to wear...

Laughter
followed the brazen murmurings from the men until finally John called out,
"We'll leave 'er 'ighness to stew on that for a bit. Just remember, my
lady," and he bowed, "we ain't ole men who are likely to die in their
ah, sleep!"

She
could hardly bear the laughter that followed the remark. God, she should have
kept her mouth shut about that! She had just wanted Justin Phillips to know the
old lord never found his way to her bed...

* * * * *

After
helping Christina with her line and tossing his into the lagoon, Justin settled
back against the cliffs, shifting to take Christina into his arms. "Come
here," he said.

Christina
looked anxiously about, misinterpreting his intentions. Oh yes, she'd like
nothing better than to spend the morning making love but just last night... and
then too they weren't exactly alone on the beach. Hanna and Jacob were nearby
searching the shallows for shellfish, along with some others. The shadows of
the cliffs offered only partial protection.

"Justin,"
she whispered apprehensively, "I don't think... I mean, we
shouldn't—"

"Shouldn't
what?" Justin smiled, knowing exactly what she was imagining.

She
blushed. "Well, you know..."

"Know
what?"

He
was making her come out and say the words. "I don't think we should make
love again."

"You
don't?" He grinned. "Ah, but you are thinking about it a lot, I
see."

"Oh
no, I wasn't... well, I was but... I—" She grew flustered and he chuckled.
"Are you, I mean, were you planning on—"

"Ravishing
you?" he interrupted. "I wasn't, but if we keep talking about it much
longer, my plans will definitely change. As a matter of fact, it's already
getting rather hot and the forest back there looks shaded and cool—"

"No!
No!" she said quickly. "I won't mention it again! My lips are
sealed."

They
laughed and Christina took a seat in his arms. The morning dawned bright and
beautiful again. Conversation came easily, easy-shifting and flowing, though
each subject became a backdrop for wild flirtations and laughter. Sometimes
they could be like two children together and she loved it then—loved him then.
Perhaps an hour or so passed and, two fine fish later, Justin was about to make
good his earlier threat when they were suddenly interrupted.

"May
I speak with you?"

Carolyn
Knolls stood several feet away, obviously having overheard much of the
intimacies between the two. Christina blushed, partially because of this and
partially because of the lady's state of dress—or rather lack thereof. She wore
only a cloth binding her breasts and a shockingly short skirt, like... like a
harem girl, Christina thought, knowing a harem girl's costume from one of
Kafir's songs. And thick blond hair was pulled to one side to fall in lovely
mass over a shoulder. Her color and weight gain spoke well of a remarkable
recovery.

Carolyn
was thinking the same thing about Christina. She was obviously well, nothing
but a few fading scars remained. One on her leg looked particularly nasty but,
unfortunately, the others hardly detracted from her beauty.

"Alone,"
she added after a brief glance at Christina.

Christina
didn't understand the strange look that crossed Justin's gaze. It was an
unconscious look reserved for those times a woman—whether lady or ale whore—sought
his attentions without his desire she do so. "Anything you have to say to
me might be said in front of Christina."

"I'm
afraid not."

"That's
all right," Christina said, standing to leave. "I should be off to
see Cajun anyway."

Carolyn
watched her go, then returned her gaze to Justin, finding herself a recipient
of his gaze—was that amusement in his eyes? However he was looking at her, it
caused her some brief uncertainty. She paused a bit too long, lowered her gaze,
and to her horror, she felt herself blushing.

"Yes?"
Justin prodded lazily.

He
was standing now, leaning against the cliffs, striking a pose so casually
disarming that for the first time in her life, she felt she wasn't in control.
"It's about your men," she said, determined to recover.

"My
men," he repeated rather than questioned.

"Yes,
they're at my doorstep like a pack of hounds. They've even begun threatening
me."

Justin
was about to say something about the stench of a she-dog in heat, but decided
against such tactics. "Well, I understand that," he said instead.
"You're an attractive female on an island regrettable short of that very
commodity."

"Commodity?"
she repeated in a whisper part incredulous, part alarm.

"Yes,
commodity." He barely smiled. "Surely I don't have to explain that to
a woman such as yourself?"

She
was very nearly speechless.

"Just
how did my men threaten you?"

"I
don't see how it matters," she said.

"I'm
interested."

She
paused long before explaining. "They said I must choose one of them or...
or—"

"Take
all of them," Justin finished for her. "I wouldn't call that a
threat; I'd call it sound advice."

She
looked shocked, then angry. "If you think I'd ever—ever—choose one of
those imbeciles... I... I don't believe this!"

"Believe
it, my lady. Reality—especially an unpleasant one—has a way of pressing into
consciousness, with or without one's belief." And with that, he left.

Having
left Justin with Carolyn Knolls, Christina set off down the beach in search of
Cajun. The day dawned like a rare summer gift—too easily taken for granted on
the island.

The
island teemed with life. Noisy birds hopped from branch to branch, tree to
tree. Gulls flew against an azure sky. Strange flying fish lifted unexpectedly from
the sea to skim a few feet before disappearing as one again. Small sand crabs
scurried back with each receding wave.

The
sun felt warm on her face, the sand warm on her bare feet. She felt happy and
lighthearted, for lately there seemed to be only one Justin present—the one she
loved. And this thought brought a smile to her lips.

Until
she passed Diego's small cabin.

He
was up! Through the large opening of the hut— like a window that looked onto
the beach, she caught sight of his dark shape standing up. She had never seen
him up and about before and while no one was supposed to care for him besides
Justin and Cajun, something, perhaps just curiosity, compelled her to approach
to see if there was something she might do for him.

She
stood for a long minute in the doorframe unseen. Diego sat on the bed of moss,
holding his face in his hands as though in some agony of indecision. His long
dark hair and beard had not been cut for several months. His skin looked
unnaturally pale and what once must have been a strong physique was now
ravished by the mysterious disease. He looked like he had been starved.

"Good
day," she ventured softly and added quickly, "I was just passing by
and saw that you were up. I wondered if I might bring you something?"

Diego
looked up slowly and with no surprise, not speaking for long moments as he considered
her. His eyes were dark and clear, but troubled. Troubled oddly by this brief
lapse of his pain. Like a convicted criminal waits the noose—he waited for its
inevitable return. And the pain was always worse after a lapse, as though its
retreat was only to redouble its effort.

But
he abruptly smiled at her and she found what many other women had found;
Diego's smile affected her like few others.

"I
knew you were lovely," he said to himself, dropping all pretenses and
propriety. "But so young?" He had never thought Justin capable of
losing his heart but should he ever have imagined such a thing, he would have
thought the woman would be much older and sophisticated, perhaps a widow,
someone confident of herself and what would surely be a limited position with
Justin.

Christina
was a complete surprise.

"Come
here," he beckoned. "Set with me for a spell. Tell me the story of
how you came to win Justin's heart."

Diego
knew the story, of course, knew quite a bit about Christina, but he wanted the
chance to discover her for himself. He knew, too, all about her shyness and he
witnessed the firsthand evidence of this presently. Christina shifted
nervously, lowering her gaze, feeling suddenly timid with his unexpected
request for her company. But few men understood women better than Diego, and
this understanding gave life to irresistible charm, a charm Diego knew how to
use and use well—one had only to count the number of broken hearts left in his
trail.