Pearls of the Past

by Judith Johnson

  She really needed to compose herself. She continued to drift, absorbing the warmth of the sun and the cool water lapping her body, which helped to ease the strange feeling of fire racing in her veins. Britt called her name, beckoning her, and without hesitation she struck out toward him.

  “That dark spot over there is a patch of coral.” He pointed in the opposite direction from where Lady B was anchored. “Do you want to take a look?”

  “Need you ask?”

  With a quick grin he turned, and Corrie followed his easy pace. They dived together, Corrie slowly rotating in the time her breath would allow, taking in as much as she could of the small but brilliant patch of coral. The colors were only surpassed by the tiny fish weaving their way in and out of the waving fronds of coral and seaweed. It was a jeweled wonderland.

  Britt touched her hand, and she reluctantly followed him to the surface.

  “After lunch we’ll get some snorkeling gear. If you were staying longer, I could have taught you to scuba. Or are you going to tell me you already know how to do that?”

  “No.”

  “That’s a relief. I could have ended up with a dented ego the way things were progressing. Come on, I’ll race you to lunch.”

  His powerful, easy strokes kept to her pace, and when the small ladder appeared in front of them he helped her to gain a foothold. Then he backed off until she stepped on deck.

  Following her, he hastily reached for the navy and white printed sarong and wound it around his hips to cover the throbbing evidence of his emotions. He roughly toweled his torso and head then stopped when he noticed her watching him. His arms lowered slowly.

  Corrie’s trembling hands faltered on the knot of her sarong. She found herself mesmerized. He was a magnificent, golden Viking! His sculptured, wide chest, the navy material riding low on his hips, not disguising the tight, dark curls beneath his navel, taunting her. She couldn’t drag her gaze free even when she saw his beautiful sea-green eyes blaze their potent message of need and frustration.

  “Happy?” The word was clouded with emotion and so sensual that it set the blood racing faster in her veins, fire reaching every point of her body, heat scorching the junction of her thighs.

  She shuddered and nodded her head slightly. “This is a time I’ll always treasure.”

  His towel fell to the deck as he took a half-step forward. “Corrie.” The word came out as a tortured whisper.

  At that moment her cousin emerged from below. Corrie wished, with a craving that amazed her, that Rusie and Matt were anywhere but there.

  “You’ve been gone so long, we’ve already had our lunch,” Russella pouted.

  Corrie needed to turn away to gain her composure. Her mouth suddenly dry, she let her gaze rivet on the dark patch of coral and swallowed deeply before she faced him again.

  Britt casually turned to her cousin. “Been for a swim yet?” His recovery rate was incredible.

  “No. That’s too far for me to swim, but I’m sure Corrie didn’t have any trouble.”

  “You can say that again. She’s a fish!”

  “She’s always been like that. I’d rather sunbake.”

  “Is my darling having a moan?” Matt asked as he slipped his arms around the wide expanse of bare flesh Rusie’s red bikini left exposed. He glanced at Britt. “I thought after you’ve eaten we might head back. The weather forecast predicts the winds are freshening.”

  “We intend snorkeling.” A hint of impatience entered Britt’s voice.

  “I won’t mind,” Corrie said to Britt, then added, “another time, perhaps?” Seeing the glitter of annoyance in his eyes, she understood his feelings only too well.

  “Another time? When, might I ask?” he grated out.

  “When I come for a holiday to visit Rusie.” She flashed him a bright smile, trying desperately to calm the tension that was building as she noted the petulant look on her cousin’s face and Matt’s dark frown. Couldn’t Britt see he was being obstinate! “Anyway, Britt, you promised to let me look in that old sea-chest you have.”

  “Back to business, are we?”

  Why was he pushing the issue? Couldn’t he see it was becoming embarrassing for her? She lost patience. “I thought that’s why I was on this yacht, or have you forgotten?”

  “I haven’t forgotten one single thing, and I challenge you to do the same, Corrie.” The harshness of her name was a reminder that up until a few minutes ago they were verging on something very special, so completely in tune with each other. “So we eat and run?” His disgust was undeniable. “Okay then, let’s eat. After you, Corrie.”

  “It’s all ready and waiting,” Russella gushed as she scrambled down the stairs ahead of them. It appeared her cousin was relieved to be leaving early.

  As Corrie went to pass Britt she hesitated, then opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, he beat her to it. “If you’re thinking of mentioning the word sorry, don’t! Or so help me, Corrie, I’ll...” He looked at Matt whose frown had deepened. “What the hell are you looking at?”

  “I’m not quite sure.”

  “Then leave it at that!”

  Chapter 11

  Corrie had wanted to ask Britt about the ceiling in his cabin, but this hardly seemed the time. He was annoyed with her for not standing her ground on the issue of wanting to go snorkeling. Understanding it would have meant the magic between them could have continued for a few more precious hours, she realized he was feeling dismissed. Would it be so hard to understand she might also be slightly disappointed?

  But she knew Rusie was not a happy sailor. She was probably bored stiff, but why that was the case when Matt was there with her was puzzling. If it had been just Corrie and Britt left to their own devices for hours on end, she certainly wouldn’t be bored. Her eyes lowered to focus studiously on the colorful salad in front of her.

  Yes, she was finally willing to admit he had slowly but surely come to occupy a special place in her life, which could amount to nothing.

  She was going home in a matter of days. She couldn’t afford to be drawn any deeper into the magic he and his island wove. A deep pain of despair lanced through her whole being, and she needed to hold on to something for comfort. She reached across the table to let her hand rest on his.

  His reaction was instantaneous. His hand turned to grasp hers in a death-like grip that spoke of a despair equal to her own. “You are not seeing the nicer side of me at the moment, Corrie.”

  “Warts and all?” she said softly, as her eyes lifted to his. “I thought that’s what friendship accepts.”

  “Are we friends?”

  “I hope so.”

  He lifted her hand, his lips gently touching her sensitive palm, and Corrie felt like she could quite easily have melted right through the seat and down through the keel of the boat from the overwhelming emotions that bombarded her, all undefinable.

  “You are far too forgiving, my beautiful lady.”

  “I feel sick!” Russella appeared out of the galley, her face chalk-white.

  “Topside, quick!” Britt ordered. Standing, he grabbed Rusie, and within a matter of seconds he had half-carried her up the stairs.

  Again their special moment of understanding had been interrupted. For once Corrie remained where she was instead of going to her cousin. Then her obstinacy relented as the thud of the engine vibrated under her feet. Going up the stairs, she found Britt at the wheel and Matt holding her cousin close to the side of the boat. She obviously wasn’t needed.

  Clear of their idyllic cove, Britt opened the throttle wide and Lady B responded, her bow slicing through the rising green waves. There were no romantic rust-stained sails stretched aloft on their inbound journey, no invitation from Britt to join him. Sadness swept over her.

  She turned and went below with the intention of clearing away the remains of their half-eaten lunch. But the need to absorb as much as she could of the remaining day won out, and she made her way back on deck and curled up in the corner of the padd
ed seat, behind where Britt stood.

  Sheer determination kept her head turned slightly from him, her eyes watching the bulk of Endeavour Island approaching with frightening speed. The conclusion to her magical day almost at an end, her newly aroused feelings demanded she let her gaze be drawn to his imposing length.

  The knee-length sarong hung low on his hips, the small of his back reflecting golden fuzz where the sun danced on his skin. His straight backbone divided perfect mounds of muscles that now and again tensed and relaxed as he adjusted his powerful arms to meet the needs of his Lady Beautiful.

  Corrie felt tears prick her eyes, and she bit into her lip. She was going to make a complete fool of herself if she stayed there. She jerked off the padded bench. Her sarong caught on its corner, tearing from her body. She stumbled, then, with one hand, she snatched up the trailing green material to flee.

  “Corrie?” Britt called. “Oh, hell! Matt?”

  The small bathroom was her refuge, giving her the privacy to let her tears flow unhindered. They joined the cool water from the shower as it began to cascade over her head. Stripping the green swimsuit from her body, she admonished, “You’re being stupid!”

  Stepping from the shower, she wrapped a large, white towel around herself. She felt marginally better until she saw her tear-ravaged face in the mirror.

  “You fool! You silly, silly fool!” she moaned as more tears scorched her cheeks.

  The door was wrenched open and Britt filled the doorway. “Corrie?” he said, his voice full of anguish. “Are you... I...” His words trailed off as his gaze swept her body swathed in the white bath towel, her hair clinging in wet strands to her tear-stained face. “Corrie,” he whispered, and it was the undoing of her tightly held emotions. Her tears became a torrent. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head from side to side in denial, barely able to say, “Nothing. I’m...I’m being stupid.” A huge gulping noise brought the result she had tried to avoid, but perversely wanted.

  She was in his arms, her face buried against the swirl of gold curls. Copious sobs racked her body, hot tears scalding her cheeks, washing his hard, muscled chest.

  “So...r...ry,” was hiccupped.

  “Sorry? Darling, your tears on my skin are balm to my tormented soul.” He pulled her even closer, totally enfolding her against his length for long, wonderful minutes before he murmured against her wet hair, “What’s the trouble?”

  She shook her head against his warm skin. “I don’t know.” She lifted her face to look at him. “I don’t know,” she wailed irrationally, wanting him to explain her distress. “I can’t stop cry...cry...crying. I don’t know.”

  His hand was firm and protective as it brought her face to rest against his chest again, the heat of his flesh doing nothing but increasing her distress at not understanding her rioting emotions. His tightening arms didn’t help. Slowly, the torrent of tears were exhausted, and making herself step out of his arms, she wiped the backs of her hands across her cheeks.

  “You remind me of a little child, doing that. Tear-stained cheeks with just one thing missing. There should be a smudge of dirt, right here.” He lightly touched first one cheek then the other. “And here. All better now?” He smiled tenderly as a loud sniff Corrie couldn’t avoid erupted.

  “Yes.” She turned to the hand basin, cupping cool water onto her heated face. “I’m fine now.” Then, remembering her cousin, she spun to face Britt. “Is Rusie all right?” she asked anxiously.

  “She’s fine. With the way you ran down here, I thought you must be sick too. I seriously thought of accusing Wing Lee of providing tainted food.”

  “He would have gone back to Singapore, via Cooktown.” She smiled weakly then took a steadying breath. “I’m fine now. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

  “I’ll wait for you in the lounge.”

  “No, don’t.” The words came out sharper than she intended.

  A frown flicked across his handsome face. “As you wish.”

  He wheeled around and was gone, leaving Corrie to sag back against the wall, emotionally drained, wondering what Rusie and Matt were thinking of her hasty departure.

  “What a ridiculous, embarrassing mess! You should know better, Corrie Nelson.” The self-accusing words made a flare of pride stiffen her resolve to be off his island as soon as humanly possible. Nothing could come of this...this...whatever was happening. She squared her shoulders, refusing to think about where she had spent a good part of the last quarter hour.

  She stayed put until she heard the engines cease their muted thudding. Anticipating they had arrived back at the Lady B’s mooring, Corrie made her way through the galley to sit in the lounge, not quite sure if Britt’s decision concerning the sea-chest would still be favorable. It probably contained information she would value, but she had resolved, with the little she had gathered from the historical society, plus photographs of the island as it was today, Da was still going to be delighted.

  A prickling sensation made her turn her head. Britt was on the stairs, his hands extended above his head, grasping the bulkhead, his muscle-rippled stomach concaving slightly as his body stretched, making the sarong hang lower. His chest gleamed from the exertions of stowing and securing above deck, and she wished he didn’t look so blatantly devastating male. She felt his eyes were accusing as they rested on the cream t-shirt and tailored navy shorts she now wore, knowing she was using them as a barrier...a proclamation that sensible Corrie was back again.

  In her agitation, she rose quickly from the padded seat and blurted out, “I’ve tidied the bathroom.”

  “So I’m not allowed the privilege of a shower.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Why did you stay down here? Russella was concerned about you.”

  Corrie looked directly at him. “I don’t think so.”

  “No, but she should have been. I was.” The tense silence that followed his words was full of meaning. His arms lowered, allowing him to step down, making him, Corrie felt, much too close to be comfortable. A slight shiver ran up her spine in anticipation.

  How the distance closed between them she wasn’t sure. His hand sliding into her hair to cup her head, the slow drag of his salty tasting lips across hers, her toes curled into the polished floorboards. His caress was very real, potent and enticing, as he settled his lips on hers more firmly, shaping, drawing them deeper into his mouth for long, delicious moments.

  “What am I going to do about you?” he said softly against her lips.

  “Perhaps I may decline your offer of opening the sea-chest.” She eased away, and he let her. “After all, they are your private papers, and I have already accumulated enough information to make an entertaining birthday present for my grandfather.” She took another step back. “I’ve also given some thought to the fact that Da may not appreciate me delving too far into his past, uninvited...”

  He was looking down at her, slowly shaking his head, making her words fade. “I knew I could rely on you to have a sane, uncomplicated answer. Corrie, always the level-headed one.”

  “That almost sounds like an accusation,” she said.

  He gave a casual shrug and stepped away. “I’ll meet you on deck. Matt and Russella have gone ahead.”

  When Britt arrived at her side a few minutes later, the only thing he had added to his apparel was a faded pair of canvas loafers, and he was carrying a smallish, brass-bound, black sea-chest on his bare shoulder, which made her tilt her head questioningly. This was met with a raised eyebrow. Apparently he had chosen to ignore her reasons for declining his offer. Still, who was she to argue with his generosity?

  * * * *

  As Corrie turned at the head of the stairs toward the lounge room, Britt said, “Wrong way, Corrie. I need to shower and change, and while I’m doing that, you can start rummaging through the contents of this mystery chest.”

  She hesitated at his invitation, not only because it meant going to his room but... “I would rather open
the chest when you’re present.”

  “You suspect I might accuse you of taking private papers. You said we were friends. Friends trust each other.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I should hope so. Well?” He was waiting for her to precede him along the hall to his room.

  As they passed Matt’s room there was a burst of laughter and an excited giggle, which halted Corrie in her tracks. It reminded her of why she had wanted to speak to him that morning, but then she had been distracted by his talk of the coming picnic. Well, now was her opportunity.

  “I presume you are aware that Rusie is sharing Matt’s room. I just want to ask how long have you known?”

  “Since yesterday.”

  “Who told you, and why was I kept in the dark?”

  “Wing Lee expounded on the subject at length, and I considered it was their business. But, in my defense, I did have a few words to say as it is my home and I hadn’t been made aware of what they intended.”

  Corrie knew her face was full of disbelief at his words.

  “Oh, come on, Corrie. Give them a break. They’re in love.”

  “And that excuses them? You amaze me. Only a few days ago women were forbidden above ground floor. Now this?”

  “And why, or to be more precise, who changed my mind on that edict, Corrie?”

  “I really don’t know or care. All I know is—”

  “Well, you’re going to be made aware who changed my mind, young lady. You did!”

  She was gaping, she knew she was.

  “Look, Matt offered me the alternative that they would move to the motel. I knew that would upset you so I relented, asking them to be discreet. When did you find out?” he asked.

  “This morning, when Rusie came to tell me about the picnic. And I know she’s twenty, but all this has happened so quickly. How can they be so sure it will last?”

  “Anyone who’s truly in love knows it will last. Believe me, I’m speaking from experience, Corrie.”

  A bitter rush of anger ripped through her at both him and the woman who had shared that lasting experience with him. “So where’s the proof?” she asked, her words accusing. “You’re not married, are you?”