by Susan Grant
Suddenly aware of the commotion, he cocked his head. More cries of “land ho” echoed in the early morning quiet.
He turned back to her, his blue eyes as dark and full of promise as the dawn sky. “Damn the island.” Grinning wolfishly, he tugged a tarp over their heads.
Chapter Fourteen
Carly laughed. “Dereliction of duty.”
Andrew’s eager mouth muffled her words before he kissed his way to her ear. “You may file a formal complaint with Mr. Egan,” he said, tracing the sensitive lobe with the tip of his tongue. “Later.”
He had her under the spell of his hot, exploring hands before she could form another coherent thought. She was lying on her back in a rowboat lashed to a heaving ship, a moldy wool blanket abrading her skin. But none of it mattered. She had never been kissed so tenderly, so thoroughly.
“Captain Spencer! Sir!”
Andrew growled, this time in irritation.
Cuddy’s voice echoed from across the deck. “Check his quarters. Come to think of it, has anyone seen the lady?”
Andrew reluctantly rose to his knees. “I fear they’re on to us. They’ll be bloody well hopping in here in another moment.” He reached down as she reached up. Lacing his fingers with hers, he pulled her to a sitting position.
“There, my little spitfire. We’re home.”
“Home?”
He nodded and moved aside the tarp. “Emerald Isle.”
She zipped her flight suit and peeked over the edge of the longboat, shadowing her eyes from the rising sun. Off the starboard side, hazy in the morning mist, was a fog-shrouded, emerald-green island. Her chest constricted strangely.
“Aye,” she whispered in the tongue of her new world. “I’m going home.”
Andrew vaulted over the side of the longboat. He held up his hands for her, then gently lowered her to the deck. He contemplated her mouth a good long time with what she’d dubbed that look.
She eagerly wound her arms around his waist and came up on her toes.
“I’d like to kiss you senseless, woman,” he said.
Sighing she raised her chin. She was already putty. Why not be senseless, too?
The dull clicks of boot heels on wood headed their way, yet they stayed like that, poised on the verge of a kiss. The rising sun had turned Andrew’s suntanned skin to a deeper bronze. The soft light glinted amber on the prickles of his beard and the curling ends of his brown hair. She savored the heat of his skin through his shirt, the gentle rise and fall of his stomach with each breath. What would his strong body feel like moving over hers—without the barrier of clothing? Skin to skin?
Skin made slippery from lovemaking.
Another sigh escaped her before she could stop it.
“Cap’n!”
As Andrew turned to face Cuddy and Gibbons, his hands were slow in leaving her waist. The other two men exchanged amused glances.
“The island.” Cuddy waved in the direction of the craggy hill rising above a thatch of palms. “Seein’ as you already know, we’ll leave you and the lass alone.”
“No need, gentlemen. I’m on my way to the helm.” Andrew returned his vivid, blue-eyed gaze to her. “As for being alone,” he said under his breath, “there’ll be time for that later.”
His smile hinted at intimacy to come. To her dismay, she felt her cheeks warm. Although the mesmerizing moment of the almost-kiss had ended, the heat between them still sizzled. Carly had never felt anything like it in her life.
“Milady, the helm is where the view is best.” Andrew settled her hand over the crook of his arm. Then they all made their way toward the bow.
There Andrew left her side. He and Cuddy shouted orders to the crew and supervised the maneuvering of the Phoenix around a coral reef. Beyond the reef, the water was as clear as a crystal, ruffled only by the light trades, which kept the air blessedly cool. Carly didn’t doubt that the sun would soon heat things up, but for now, the temperature was ideal.
Theo joined her.” ’Tis a sight for sore eyes, ain’t it?”
“Smells wonderful, too.” She savored the fresh, sweet scents floating on the breeze—almost overwhelming after so many months of breathing the salty, moldy odors of the ship.
The Phoenix was skating over the smooth waters, all her sails now wrapped but one. Beneath the surface, a veritable rainbow of fish darted this way and that. Below the glittering creatures lay the beauty of the reef. The coral appeared deceptively close enough to touch, but clearly wasn’t, since the ship sailed over it without a scrape.
Carly tingled all over. Every pore felt wide open. She found she had to squint to mute the intensity of the colors. She’d seen beautiful tropical islands before but had never reacted in such a physical way. She inhaled greedily, then again, wishing she could breathe all the colors in. Sand the color of wheat. Turquoise, mauve, and magenta. And, of course, emerald green.
Her chest ached and swelled with the utter exhilaration of being alive. It was akin to stepping into a painting, a brilliantly rendered masterpiece done in a palette using all five senses.
Movement off the bow and distant laughter caught her attention. “Look, Theo!”
“’Tis the entire village, I’d say.”
Wooden canoes overflowed with joyful, waving women, dozens of children, and a few older men. The villagers’ colorfully tinted clothing was as vivid as the landscape. Accenting skin that ranged from suntanned cinnamon to a dark, rich mahogany.
Within minutes, sleek vessels flanked the Phoenix and stayed by her side, accompanying her into a peaceful inlet, while land-starved, woman-starved pirates lined the railing and the chains. To Carly’s delight, the tough-looking group shouted endearments to women she figured were wives and girlfriends. Some women responded by holding up infants being seen for the first time by their fathers.
A familiar longing swept through Carly. Unconsciously, she brought her hand to her stomach. How wonderful it would be to have a husband who cherished her, children they both adored. Would this new life grant her that wish?
Impulsively, she pulled Theo into a hug. He mumbled questioningly into her chest. “I just felt like hugging you, kiddo, that’s all.” He relaxed against her. Before she let him go, she ruffled his hair.
The Phoenix shuddered. The unfamiliar movement was followed by the raucous sound of metal against wood. A loud whistle pierced the rumbling, sending what must be every bird on the island into the sky.
“We’ve dropped the anchor,” Theo explained, sounding like the veteran seaman he was. At thirteen, he’d already experienced more than most men did in a lifetime.
The Phoenix bobbed in place like a horse tied to a post after being ridden hard. She heard several loud splashes, then cheers. The men not immediately involved in shipboard duties were diving into the waves and swimming to the beach.
“Come on, Carly,” Theo coaxed. “Follow me.”
She glanced behind her. As though sensing her question, Andrew strode toward her, all business again. “Find Maria when you get to the village. Tell her I sent you. She’ll show you where you may stay.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay-okay-okay,” he repeated, teasing her.
She loved the way the words sounded in his clipped English accent.
He seemed pleased when she laughed. “Escort the lady to shore, lad,” he told Theo and returned to his duties.
Theo hopped onto the railing. Already stripped to the waist, his arms extended, he balanced himself on the railing like a tightrope walker. “Ready, Carly?” He dove in with hardly a splash.
Carly paused to twist her hair into a thick knot, then followed. Moments later, she emerged from the turquoise water and trudged dripping wet onto the sand.
Paradise.
A lush forest of palm trees grew to the edge of the wide beach. Birdsong and the chattering of a dozen different animals emanated from the shadows. A boulder-strewn hill rose steeply from the island’s center with wisps of clouds floating at its crest.
Chickens and roosters scurried everywhere, crisscrossing the path, darting underfoot, crowing and cackling.
“I’ve never seen so many roosters in my life,” Theo remarked.
Carly chuckled. “Me neither. I have the feeling no one sleeps late around here.”
As they crossed a barrier of palms, the sharp odor of manure and the barnyard sounds faded—except for the crowing of the seemingly crazed roosters. A circular cleared area sat on a gentle rise, with well-made rectangular thatched huts clustered around the perimeter. To the side of a grouping of benches and tables made of halved tree trunks was an enormous shallow pit littered with charred rocks and bones. Near it, Carly smelled the lingering fragrance of old wood smoke. Small fires burned in front of a few huts, bubbling pots hung over the flames.
Carly gazed warily at the surrounding jungle of mysterious shadows. The vines and exotic plants seething at the edge of the cleared area had the look of being freshly hacked away. Everyone must have chores here. She expected she would, too. Only she prayed it wouldn’t be weeding.
A squealing pig trotted by, three stick-wielding, long-legged boys in hot pursuit.
“Dinner,” Carly muttered to Theo. For the first time in her life, her craving for fresh meat overwhelmed her desire for mercy. It wasn’t hard to imagine the pig spitted and roasting slowly over an open fire until rich, savory juices ran from its crisp skin.
Still, she winced when the pig’s cries were cut short. With a twinge of guilt she realized that her mouth was watering.
“Welcome!” One of the village women was hurrying toward Carly and Theo. Her wavy black hair swayed with the undulating movement of her hips, while her earrings and the bracelets on her wrists and ankles tinkled with each step. Carly admired the magenta and gold silk wrap she wore. It hugged her ample, curvaceous figure, ending a scant inch or two above her breasts. Just once, Carly wished she could exude that kind of lush femininity.
Reaching them, the woman smiled, revealing a missing eyetooth, which somehow made her exotic beauty all the more genuine. “Lady Amanda, I am glad to meet you,” she said in lyrical, accented English. If the woman found her attire strange, her wide-set brown eyes gave no hint.
Awkwardly self-conscious, Carly tucked her damp, limp hair behind her ears and smoothed one hand over her threadbare flight suit before extending her hand. “Call me Carly. I take it you’re Maria?”
“Yes.” The woman clasped her fingers in a delicate grip. “You will visit with us for a few weeks, yes? While you are here, you will stay with me. I’m so sorry your visit cannot be longer.”
Carly shifted uncomfortably. She wondered when Andrew would break the news.
Maria fussed over Theo, making him blush. Then she cried out, “Leila!”
A young girl about Theo’s age sidled up to Maria. She was pretty, with long thin arms and legs that had far outpaced the rest of her. “My daughter, Leila.”
Introductions were exchanged.
Maria gently pushed the girl toward Theo. “Take this young man with you. Give him something to eat and drink.” Maria wrinkled her long, elegant nose. “Then show him where he may bathe.”
Theo blushed again as Leila led him away.
Carly followed Maria into one of the rectangular huts. Inside, it was cool and shadowed. The walls were made of dried, woven palm fronds, and the dirt floor was swept clean. Embroidered curtains fluttered over the windows, which were free of screens or glass. On the table, a ceramic vase of flowers spilled petals onto a lace doily.
Something inside Carly softened. After so many months with men, she appreciated the feminine touches. “You have a very pretty house.”
“We call it a choupana,” Maria said. “It means ‘little house’ in Portuguese.”
Carly contemplated Maria’s cinnamon-hued skin. “Are you Portuguese?”
“My father was, yes. A Portuguese sailor. My mother worked on a cocoa plantation on the mainland. Most of us here are Portuguese and African, or English and Spanish . . . a mix of this and that.”
Maria handed her a drink. Carly held the cool cup between her palms and sniffed. The fresh scent made her light-headed with anticipation. While Maria busied herself searching through a trunk, Carly savored a tiny sip, rolling the cool, sweet drink over her tongue. “This is heaven. What is it?”
Maria reached for a wooden bowl piled high with fruit. “Mango juice,” she said, choosing one. Juice sprayed as she thrust her thumbs through the skin and split it open. “Try.”
Carly bit into the pale yellow-orange flesh. “Oh, my,” she mumbled, her eyes drifting closed. The uncivilized part of her wanted to cram the rest of the mango into her mouth with both hands, then attack the dozen left in the bowl.
The door flew open. Carly glanced up guiltily, mango juice dribbling down her chin. She dabbed at it with her hand as Maria cried out, “Christian!”
Gibbons crossed the short distance between them and swept the woman into his arms. “I have missed you sorely, wife,” he roared, spinning her around the small room.
Carly ducked to avoid being hit in the head by one of Maria’s bare feet. Gibbons was married? She’d assumed he was a bachelor like Cuddy and Willoughby.
As the pair kissed, Carly inched toward the open door, taking the remaining mango half with her. “Why don’t I come back later? You two ought to be alone.”
“I will have months with this man,” Maria said, dismissing her comment with a wave of her hand. “I will grow tired of him long before that.”
Gibbons’s rich laughter filled the room. “Cap’n wants the lady to stay with us,” he said, dragging in a trunk and two wooden crates from outside.
“I will prepare a place for her with Leila.”
Gibbons nodded. “I’ll be back after we unload the cargo.”
Maria clasped his hands: “I will make Carly comfortable.” Her voice dropped seductively. “Then, my husband, I will make you comfortable.”
Gibbons looked twenty years younger. He kissed his wife soundly on the lips, winked at Carly, and closed the door.
“I never knew he was married,” Carly said. “Or that he had a daughter.”
“Leila is the daughter of his heart, not his blood. My first husband was killed when she was two.”
Carly’s grin faded. “I’m sorry.”
Maria shrugged and refilled Carly’s cup. “It was a long time ago.”
Maria was in her forties. She had a few silver threads woven through her thick curly hair, but her skin was smooth. With a heavy heart, Carly thought of her fragile, sickly mother, old before her time at forty.
Maria crouched in front of a trunk, sifting through its contents until she found a long, brightly colored piece of silk. She folded the silk and placed it in a straw satchel, then tossed in a cake of soap, two towels, and a pair of combs. “Come,” she said warmly. “I imagine you would like to bathe.”
This time she truly had died and gone to heaven.
Carly inhaled the lavender fragrance of creamy French soap. Immersing herself in a fresh-water spring that tumbled over timeworn boulders, Carly took an almost erotic pleasure in the simple act of bathing. She was vividly aware of everything that touched her, and all that she saw, smelled, and heard.
After squeezing the excess water from her hair, Carly gathered the soap and washcloth, then waded out of the spring, wrapping a towel around her as she walked onto the dirt beach.
While she worked a comb through her hair, she reveled in the company of other women. After so many months of deep, masculine voices, the women sounded utterly musical. In accented English, mixed with Portuguese and what she assumed were local tribal languages, they chatted about children, cooking, herb
al remedies, and mundane topics such as the early end of the rainy season. They were excited and grateful that the men had come home, not only for the obvious companionship, but for protection as well. Their laughter made Carly smile, and their spicy tales rivaled anything she’d heard onboard the ship.
When she’d finished combing her hair, she spread it over her shoulders to dry. After awhile, the humid air and whirring of millions of insects made her drowsy. She propped her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hand. Her thoughts drifted to Andrew’s wide, expressive mouth, the feel of his soft lips on hers. His hands . . .
“Where were you?” the women called to a particularly pretty woman who was just arriving at the spring.
From what Carly could discern, she had lingered overly long with her lover. The other women laughed and teased her.
She gave them a saucy shake of her head and dove into the water. Carly watched, fascinated. The young woman exuded the kind of sexual confidence and comfortable ease with her body that Carly longed for.
Was she Andrew’s lover?
The thought came to her unexpectedly, and she eyed the woman with new awareness. Was she dipping her nude body in the pool to rinse off the last hints of his spent passion?
Carly’s insides clenched with the unaccustomed grip of jealousy. She’d assumed she’d have private time with Andrew, but what if he was busy with a lover, or a wife?
Or kids.
No. He said he loved her and she believed him. He wasn’t the sort of man who would be unfaithful.
Or would take another man’s woman.
Over the past few months, there had been plenty of opportunities for Andrew to seduce her. Yet, he hadn’t—because he thought she was engaged to the duke. And because she would be worth less if no longer a virgin. But now that he’d accepted her identity, that was no longer a concern. Nothing should keep them apart. Unless he was angry over setting her free—and losing an opportunity to punish Richard. As much as Andrew wanted to change, it wouldn’t be easy putting years of hatred behind him.
Sunlight filtered through a twisted canopy of vines and branches. Carly glowered at the shadows cavorting over her bare toes until a hand gently shook her shoulder.