The Orchid Hunter

by Jill Marie Landis

  “It must feel strange to wear so many clothes all the time. How do you keep from getting hot?”

  He was getting hotter with every heartbeat. He called upon the composure that served him so well in both his business negotiations and in dangerous situations in remote corners of the globe.

  “We should go back.”

  Joya was staring up at him expectantly. “Your talk with my father…was it successful?”

  His gaze was drawn to her eyes, her breasts, the amulet pouch hanging between them. He had to force himself to look away. Once he did, he found it easier to concentrate while staring at the wall of tall, golden bamboo.

  “Your father has agreed to do business with our import house and to teach me some of his orchid-hunting secrets. We will be leaving in three days. Your father has asked me to take you with us.”

  He heard her gasp, a small, breathy sound. Then there was a long pause before she asked, “Why are you talking to the bamboo?”

  He gave up trying and retrieved the torch from the water’s edge. Trevor took a deep breath, drinking in the tranquil beauty of the pool, the soothing sound of the stream as it poured over the rocks, and the glow of the torch as it lit the frangipani, orchid, ginger, and bird-of-paradise blooms. He took a deep breath, calmed by the peace of the idyllic setting, and his heartbeat settled back into place.

  Until he felt Joya’s light touch upon his forearm—then he lowered the torch, watching the firelight shimmer on her golden hair.

  “Do you find it beautiful here?” Her voice was soft as a caress.

  “Yes.” He shifted uncomfortably, catching himself just as he was about to tumble into the depths of her intent gaze.

  “This is one of my favorite places.”

  He turned toward the water and took a deep breath. Instead of clearing his head, the heady, sensual fragrance of the tropic flowers only added fuel to the fire.

  “We should go back,” he said.

  Completely unaware of the effect she was having on him, she rubbed one bare foot atop the other as she combed her fingers through her loose, waving hair.

  “I cannot wait to see London.”

  He felt compelled to look down into her eyes, feeling very much the same way he had during the earthquake when the ground had fallen out from under him.

  “Nothing you have seen or read about in books can prepare you for the reality of London.”

  “The hub of the world, my father calls it.”

  “It is a far cry from Matarenga.”

  A nightbird called to its mate, a shrill, high sound that cut the air. The breeze lifted the ends of her hair, caressing the waving curls. His fingers itched to touch the golden strands. She took a step forward and was within his reach.

  They were alone in the semidarkness. Alone without a chaperon and Joya only half dressed. Her open, innocent expression told him that she had no notion of what sort of precarious position she had put herself in, no idea what her nearness was doing to him.

  The jungle that was London would hold far more danger for Joya Penn than the wilds of Matarenga. Janelle might think she could help her twin adjust to English society, but he doubted Joya would ever learn how to be circumspect in every situation. Because of her isolation and her father’s powerful hold on the island people, she had existed in a sheltered world where she had very little to fear.

  Almost as if she had read his thoughts, she said, “I will do my best. I promise not to bring shame to your family.”

  And I, he thought, have given your father my word that I will keep you safe.

  “Perhaps, then, you had best go back to the house.” He allowed his irritation with himself and his thoughts to show by commenting in too sharp a tone.

  “Have I displeased you, Trevor?”

  Her safety in London was of the utmost importance. She had to learn sometime. Now was as good a time as any.

  “In England, a young woman is never alone with a man who is not her husband or her fiancé. Ever.”

  “Is it a rule?”

  “Yes, a very important rule. Perhaps the number one most important rule of all.”

  “Rule Number One is never be alone in the dark with a man who is not my fiancé or my husband.” She instantly disarmed him with a smile.

  “Exactly. Now go back to the house,” he said.

  “You aren’t coming with me?”

  Trevor glanced at the house and sighed. “No. I’ll be along. First, I think a long soak in the pool is in order.”

  “I should see to your cuts. Do you need help removing your clothes?”

  “Joya, I just told you that a young woman should not be alone with a man.”

  “Yes. Rule Number One.”

  “Which means you, an unmarried young lady, should not be here in the dark, alone with me.” He glanced toward the house again, half-expecting Dustin Penn to come charging down the path waving a long, sharp machete in one hand and brandishing a spear in the other.

  “But we’re not in England,” she reminded him. “There is no such rule here.”

  “Perhaps because the Matarengi are much freer in their relationships.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Suddenly his shirt felt too tight around the collar. Despite the cool night breeze, he had begun to sweat.

  “What I mean is, Matarengi society allows them to follow their natural inclinations…”

  “Their what?”

  “You see, between a man and a woman…surely your father has told you…” Frustrated, he shoved his hand through his hair. She was tying him in knots. “Just go back to the house. Ask Janelle to explain.”

  Chapter Ten

  Trevor rarely saw Joya over the next three days as he sat closeted with Dustin Penn taking copious notes, making drawings and maps, absorbing as much as he could about the environments and altitudes conducive to orchid growth.

  He soon came to admire Penn, not only for the man’s expertise, but also for his self-assurance and blunt honesty. He found himself envying the orchid hunter’s freedom, especially the way he had turned his back on the rest of the world to live life exactly the way he wanted.

  Finally the day had come to depart. Trevor, on his way to summon the twins to the dock, paused on a path that led up a hill behind the house. Far below he could see the pier stretched toward a deep channel in the lagoon.

  Two large sailing canoes were tied up at the end of the pier, the Matarengi sailors ready to sail them to the island of Zanzibar to collect their things. His gear was already stowed, as was Janelle’s small traveling case.

  The orchid shipment was loaded in the second boat.

  He continued on and soon reached the top of the low rise. Beneath a towering flame tree that showered the ground with blood-red blooms, Joya and Janelle stood side by side, looking at two graves that lay a few yards apart.

  The sight gave him pause. Joya had donned one of the gowns Janelle had brought over to the island. Her hair was done up in matching bows. Seeing both young women from behind, there was a moment when he could not tell them apart—until Joya turned around. Her eyes were suspiciously bright and there was a wistful sadness about her, a waiflike quality that Janelle never let show. Joya’s demeanor made him want to take her in his arms and put the sunshine back in her eyes.

  Outwardly, she appeared every bit an English miss except for her glowing, suntanned cheeks enhanced by the butter-yellow shade of her borrowed gown. Janelle had taken Joya’s unruly blond curls and artfully gathered them up with bows to frame her face and set off her eyes.

  Thankfully, today there was not one immodest inch of Joya showing. The transformation was amazing, but Trevor had the feeling something inexplicably fascinating had been lost. He had an urge to tug the ribbons from her hair and watch it tumble into wild curls again.

  “You look like an English miss,” he told her.

  “Thank you.” She flashed a smile and then bent over. He thought she was trying to execute a curtsy, but instead she grabbed the hem of her gow
n, lifting her skirt to reveal her bare legs up to her thighs. “I am not a proper English miss, yet. I have on my own sandals.” She fairly beamed.

  Trevor was rendered speechless. Janelle turned and noticed Joya with her skirt thigh-high.

  “I’m sure he is not interested in your footwear, Joya.” Janelle went blithely on, as if her sister’s behavior were nothing out of the ordinary. “Trevor, come see my father’s grave,” she said.

  Disturbed by the unexpected view of Joya’s shapely bare legs, Trevor quickly joined Janelle and lowered his voice.

  “What are you going to do if she does that in front of Grandmother?” he whispered.

  “I can’t help but think what fun that would be.”

  “You have to teach her some comportment before we get home.”

  “She is charming and entirely natural. I would hate to ruin such spontaneous behavior.”

  “That is exactly the problem.” His gaze flashed back to Joya. “We can’t predict what she will do next.”

  “Do not spend an inordinate amount of time worrying about that, Trevor. Almost as soon as we return to London, you will be setting sail for Venezuela and Joya and I will be on our own with Grandmama. I’m convinced she will manage very well.”

  With her skirt properly in place, Joya joined them. “That’s Osmond Oates’s grave.” She pointed it out to Trevor. “Over there lies my mother…Clara Penn.” Trevor heard the twice-felt loss of her mother—once in death, and now having learned Clara was not really her mother at all.

  The name Clara Hayworth Penn was crudely carved into a large, flat stone beside two Matarengi fetishes. What kind of a woman, a lowly housekeeper at that, would have the nerve to steal a newborn child? What had driven her to do it?

  He decided Clara Penn must have wanted a child very desperately, so much that she had been willing to leave civilization behind just to keep Joya.

  “My true father’s grave,” Janelle whispered with a shake of her head.

  “I hope that this hasn’t upset you,” he said.

  “Fate has led us here, Trevor. I am sure that finding Joya, visiting this island grave, these are the reasons I have dreamed of African jungles all my life. Perhaps my father’s spirit lured me here so that I would find Joya and we would be reunited.”

  “Blind luck. Nothing more.” He was uncomfortable with the direction of her talk.

  “Oh, Trevor, I know you don’t believe in anything so esoteric, but what if it were true?”

  Joya frowned and looked up at him as she asked Janelle, “What do you mean, esoteric?”

  “If Trevor cannot see something or have it proven to him, he doesn’t believe in it,” Janelle said.

  “The Matarengi believe that the spirits of our ancestors move in the world around us. The rocks, plants, and animals, all of them have spirits, too. How else would we be guided? How else could we survive without their help?” Joya asked.

  Janelle turned to him. “Yes, how else, dear brother?”

  “You cannot see love,” Joya added. “But you believe in love, don’t you?”

  Trevor shifted uncomfortably. Believe in love? He had never been in love. With all of his responsibilities to the family business and his interest in orchids, he had no time for love. When he looked down at Joya he found her awaiting an answer, yet he had none to give.

  “I believe the boat is ready to leave,” he said.

  “I should take you both to see Otakgi, the wise man of the village. He speaks with spirits every day.” Joya glanced up to watch two small green parrots fly over.

  Janelle was excited by the prospect. “Do we have time?”

  “No, we don’t.” Trevor was glad he was along to be the voice of reason. “I don’t need spirits to tell me that we should be on the pier.” He turned to Joya. “Your father will be waiting to say good-bye.”

  She suddenly looked so sad at his reminder that he found himself excusing a need to hold and comfort her and tried to convince himself that it was a purely innocent reaction, one that came from years of playing older brother to Janelle.

  “Wait for me at the pier. I want to make certain I did not leave anything in the house.” Janelle went hurrying down the trail alone.

  Joya lingered, silently staring at her mother’s grave. When he saw her reach for her bag of charms, he realized she had not put aside her Matarengi amulet pouch with her other clothing.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Do you really want me to go to London with you?” Her question surprised him. He did not know whether she was looking for an excuse to stay or for reassurance that he held no concern.

  “Everything is settled.”

  “But do you want me there?”

  “Janelle has her mind made up. She is looking forward to having you with her.”

  “But do you, Trevor Mandeville, want me to come with you to London?”

  His first impulse was to be absolutely truthful and say no. He could not shake the terrible feeling that she was about to upset his life like a tempest out of control. But as he looked into her open, ingenuous face, he realized with astounding clarity that leaving her behind would fill him with more regret than would taking her with him.

  “Yes, I want you to come with us,” he said softly. “But I’ll be perfectly honest, I still have reservations. You have no idea what you are walking into.”

  London

  Chapter Eleven

  Trevor spent much of his time on the voyage home studying his copious notes and wrestling with his growing attraction to his sister’s twin. Unlike Janelle, who suffered from seasickness, Joya was amazed by the ship. She spent much of her time tending to her sister, as well as sketching the sights they saw in Africa and on the open water.

  After a tearful good-bye to her father, Joya settled in and seemed content, so much so that Trevor let her entertain herself—until early one gusty morning when he could not sleep and decided to take a turn around the deck before breakfast.

  Spying a gathering of crew members, he walked closer, curious to see what they might be discussing so intently. Much to his chagrin, he found Joya seated cross-legged on the deck, locked in deep conversation with one particularly unsavory character whose bare upper torso and arms were covered with tattoos.

  “That ain’t quite the way of it on New Guinea,” the tattooed man was saying. “Out there, the men take the virgins and they…”

  Trevor did not wait to hear more. Shoving aside the men who were standing idly by, he stepped inside the ring of Joya’s admirers.

  Thankfully her skirt was tucked beneath her feet and her bare legs were covered, but standing over her, like many of the others, he had a clear view down the low-cut neckline of her gown. Underwear, it seemed, was something she had not quite adjusted to.

  He liked to pride himself on his control, but just then he had none. He offered his hand and prayed she would take it and follow him without question.

  “Trevor!” Thankfully, she jumped to her feet when she saw him. “I didn’t expect you to be out so early. Mr. Tuck and I were just talking about the differences between fertility ceremonies on Matarenga and New Guinea.”

  “I need to speak to you.” He took her hand and held on tight. “Come with me.”

  She might not have recognized the anger simmering beneath his thin veneer of control, but the sailors did. He hoped he would not have to challenge the lot of them to move aside.

  “Is Janelle all right? Does she need me?” Joya asked.

  “Janelle is just fine.” He was barely able to get the words out. He turned and saw her shrug at the colorful, bare-chested Mr. Tuck and then smile at each of the other men encircling them.

  “Mr. Mandeville needs me,” she explained. “Perhaps we can continue our talk tomorrow morning.” Then she blithely waved good-bye to the sailors.

  When the men saw that she was in no danger and more than willing to leave with Trevor, the circle parted and the sailors dispersed. Trevor towed her across the deck and did n
ot stop until they reached a deserted area near the bow.

  “Don’t ever do that again.”

  “Do what, Trevor?”

  What he had seen had so shaken his control that he did not know exactly where to start.

  “Let’s see. Where should I begin? One, never sit on the deck cross-legged…or anywhere else for that matter. Two, never converse with the crew.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you are a respectable young woman and they are unsavory characters.”

  “Oh, no they weren’t. They were very friendly.”

  “Don’t you remember Rule Number One?”

  “Of course. Never be alone with a man.”

  “So. There you have it.” He crossed his arms, satisfied.

  “But I wasn’t alone with a man. There were at least six of them.”

  “Which makes what you did six times worse.” And she had been in six times more danger. He did not want to even think about what might have happened.

  “Is that why you’re so angry?”

  “I promised your father I would see to your safety. I’m responsible for your well-being and I never take my responsibilities lightly.”

  “My well-being is just fine, thank you, Trevor.”

  “You have absolutely no idea what danger you were in, do you?” Before he knew what he was about, he reached out and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. When he realized what he had done, he was thankful that she did not seem to notice.

  “I have lived with danger in one way or another every single day of my life. There are poisonous snakes and slippery trails on Matarenga. The lagoon is filled with sharks of all sizes and even poisonous fish. Why, once we were even attacked by fierce Indonesian pirates. Don’t tell me I have no idea when I’m in danger, Trevor.”

  “But you aren’t aware of the customs off your island.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can treat me like a child. Don’t you see that’s what you did back there?”