Witness

by Beverly Barton

  Shorts, T-shirt and sandals. Jeannie wanted their time together to be a vacation, not an escape from danger. He intended to give her what she wanted. An interlude from the real world.

  In the next room, Jeannie sat down on her bed, a huge white oak four-poster with a fancy black ironwork canopy. Hooking her cane over the bottom post, she lay down and breathed in the fresh salt air blowing in off the ocean. She looked around her room, loving every precious inch that she had decorated as a teenager. The heart-of-pine floors and planked ceilings gave this old house a country charm. While examining the room, she saw, lying on the floral chintz chaise longue, the clothes Manton had laid out for her. Her pale pink-and-lavender-striped sundress. Strapless, with a hem that fell to midcalf. A romantic dress. Beside the dress lay a wide-brimmed straw hat.

  Hugging herself, Jeannie laughed.

  MANTON SERVED THEIR dinner on the veranda. White linen tablecloth and napkins. Polished silver and glistening crystal. After placing their dessert of fruit with a light cream sauce before them, he lit the candles that flanked the small bouquet on the table, then excused himself. The sun hung like a ball of fire in the western horizon, its heat singeing the sky with radiant splashes of purple, magenta and golden orange.

  The balmy ocean breeze surrounded Sam and Jeannie, gently flickering the candle flames. They lifted their wineglasses in a toast.

  “To heaven here on earth,” Sam said. “Thanks to you, my very own angel.”

  Her eyes glazed with tears. Happy tears. Accepting his toast, she sipped the wine.

  “What do you think of Le Bijou Bleu?” She set her glass on the table.

  “I see where it got its name. Blue sky and blue water everywhere. I suppose whoever christened this island considered it his own personal blue jewel.”

  “And now it’s my blue jewel,” she said. “Our blue jewel,” she amended.

  “I never thought I’d return to this island. The few memories I have of this place are bittersweet. I wanted to forget what happened before and after I was shot.”

  “I realized how difficult it was for you to come and see me six years ago, when you got out of the hospital.” She looked down at the fresh tropical fruit resting in the crystal bowl. “You came only because you felt you owed your life to me.”

  “I did owe you my life,” he said, watching her pick nervously at the linen tablecloth. “When I left Biloxi, I buried the past deep inside me.” He tapped his chest with his fist.

  “You didn’t want to live.” Jeannie lifted her eyes, meeting his gaze directly. “You felt you had no right to live.”

  “I don’t want to talk about the past. Not now.”

  Casting her gaze downward, she hesitated. He was afraid of the complete truth. If he was ever going to heal, he would have to face a guilt too heavy for him to bear alone.

  The sweet, melodic strands of a piano solo drifted in the air, like celestial background music. Sam cocked his head to one side, listening. He could have sworn the music wasn’t taped, that someone was playing the baby grand in the front parlor. He glanced at Jeannie, his eyes questioning her.

  “Manton plays beautifully, don’t you think?”

  “Manton? But how is it possible for him to play? He’s deaf, isn’t he?”

  “Totally, irreversibly deaf. But he has the talent of a genius.”

  “I don’t understand how—”

  “He feels the music.” Reaching across the table, Jeannie clasped Sam’s hand in hers. “He’s played since childhood. A natural talent, one even he doesn’t understand. The piece he’s playing is his own creation. I believe his talent is truly a gift from God.”

  “He can’t hear what he plays. He can’t—”

  “It defies explanation. Yes, I know. But so does my empathic ability.” She looked into Sam’s eyes and told him what she wanted. “There is magic on Le Bijou Bleu. It drew Manton here first, and then me. And now…” She did not allow herself to even think about what she knew in her heart, what Sam was not yet ready to accept.

  He sensed her need to be in his arms, to move to Manton’s mystical music—a twilight solo so utterly beautiful that Sam knew, without question, that the composition had been created for Jeannie.

  Julian Howell’s Jeannie. Manton’s Jeannie. But, above all else, Sam Dundee’s Jeannie. For she belonged to him now, and in ways she could never belong to another. This night would seal her fate. She would become his completely.

  But not forever. Their affair here on Le Bijou Bleu would be days and nights out of time. He had no right to want or expect more. Jeannie was an ethereal creature, truly pure of heart, never meant to belong to a man whose hands were stained with blood. But he could not deny himself the chance to become her lover, to capture, if for only a brief while, the magic and wonder of possessing an angel.

  Sam stood, rounded the table, pulled out Jeannie’s chair and lifted her. Shivering with desire and anticipation, she kicked off her white sandals and allowed Sam to lift the soles of her small, delicate feet atop his big feet.

  She wanted to dance the way they had the night on the riverboat. But here on the veranda of her home there would be no interruptions, nothing to intrude on the enchantment. They would be free to follow their hearts, to seek the fulfillment their bodies desired. Tonight was theirs.

  Sam waltzed her around the veranda. Her skirt flowed in the breeze. They didn’t speak aloud, but they communicated their feelings, exchanged their thoughts and shared their mutual desire.

  Sam had opened his mind to her, no longer blocking her entrance into his privacy. Jeannie wondered if he had any idea that he had taken the first step in the healing process that could lead to his salvation. Only if he could trust her enough to share his guilt and pain could she help him face his demons and learn to forgive himself.

  Did she have the strength and courage to be the woman Sam needed? Could she ever reach that golden core of goodness inside Sam and help him become the man he was meant to be?

  The music swirled inside Jeannie’s head as she gave herself over to the rhythm and surrendered completely to Sam, trusting him without hesitation. In his arms she took flight, experiencing once again the freedom she would never know without his support.

  When Manton stopped playing and quiet descended, Sam led Jeannie back to the table. She retrieved her cane before they left the veranda for a moonlight stroll on the beach behind the cottage.

  The new moon glimmered in the black sky, almost translucent in its pale beauty. A scattering of distant stars winked at them. The ocean waves spread their moon-kissed white foam across the beach, then, recalling the tide, washed away their tracks in the sand. Sam supported Jeannie with his arm around her waist as they stood on the beach, the water licking at their legs.

  When Jeannie tired, her slow gait hampered by the sand, Sam lifted her in his arms and carried her to the top of the knoll that overlooked the beach where she’d found his nearly lifeless body six years ago. Placing her on the ground, he sat beside her and pulled her close. She laid her head on his shoulder.

  Words were unnecessary. Each knew what the other thought and felt. Sam could not deny how he felt about Jeannie, how desperately he wanted her, how much a part of him she had become.

  They sat on the knoll, their damp legs entwined, holding hands and listening to the ocean’s gentle rumble as they looked at the night sky.

  Then Sam turned to her, cupped her face with both hands and whispered her name aloud. She sighed. A lone teardrop fell from her eye onto his hand.

  “It’s all right, angel,” he said. “This will be a totally new experience for both of us. I have no idea what will happen. The first time for most women is—”

  She covered his lips with her index finger. “I’m not like most women. And you, Sam Dundee, are most definitely not like most men.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” He kissed her tenderly.

  “The pain of wanting you without having you is far worse than any pain I’ll feel. It will be a pain I’ll
soon forget in the pleasure that will follow.” Curling her arms around his neck, she returned his kiss as their combined emotions began flowing inside her. “Sam?”

  He rubbed his hand up and down the side of her thigh, bunching the cotton material of her full skirt, lifting it higher and higher with each upward motion. They fell back onto the ground. Lowering his head, Sam kissed the tops of her swollen breasts rounding above the strapless bodice of her sundress. He palmed her feminine mound through the silk of her panties. She arched up to meet his touch.

  Sam leaned over her, his mouth and hands exploring the woman who lay beneath him. Jeannie. Sweet, beautiful, innocent Jeannie.

  She moaned into his mouth when he kissed her again. Clinging to him, whimpering her need, stroking her body against his, she incited him to deepen the kiss. He ripped away the material covering her breasts, then slid his hand inside her panties and delved into her moist, welcoming heat.

  Overwhelming desire claimed her. Desire so all-consuming she thought she would die from its intensity. Her desire. And Sam’s desire.

  Releasing her mouth, he breathed deeply. “Not here. Not on the hard ground, exposed like this. Not our first time.”

  “Then take me home, Sam. Take me home and make me yours.”

  With his heartbeat wild, his desire at fever pitch, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the house. He opened the French doors leading from the veranda into her bedroom, walked into the moonlit sanctuary and laid her down on the pure white bed.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  MOONLIGHT SUFFUSED THE room, coating the walls with pale luminance, casting a yellow-white glow over the floor and furniture, surrounding Jeannie like a body halo of purity. The summer breeze swept inside through the open windows and French doors, encompassing them in a warm cocoon. The ocean’s undulatory melody drifted in on the night air.

  Jeannie sat up in the middle of the bed and removed her sundress. Wearing only a pair of pink silk panties, her breasts thrusting forward as she braced the palms of her hands on each side of her hips, she smiled and called his name.

  “Sam…”

  She was a siren now, an enticing vixen with a woman’s needs. And yet she was still an angel, so pure and innocent and compassionate.

  Jeannie lay back on the bed, her heartbeat drumming in her ears, as she reached up, inviting Sam into her arms. She burned with a need she had never known before Sam Dundee entered her secure world. He had changed everything. After she saved his life, nothing had ever been the same again. And now that he had returned, possessed with a need to protect her, to care for her, their fate was sealed.

  Since the night she had suffered agony for him, they had been partially united, their souls connected by a thin, invisible cord. With each passing day they were together, they became closer, their feelings for each other growing stronger. Tonight they would become one. There could be no going back, only forward, straight ahead into the bonding of their souls.

  Sam could remember nothing in his life he’d ever wanted more than he wanted Jeannie. His Jeannie. His sweet, beautiful angel.

  With arms uplifted, her face kissed with moonlight, she waited for him. He wanted to rip off his clothes and thrust into her with wild abandon. But Jeannie was no ordinary woman. What was happening between them was special, unique. Something to be experienced fully, savored lovingly. He could not rush their lovemaking. For her, this would be the first time. And it would be a first for him, too. Making love to a woman who could feel his every emotion, who could experience his desire and his pleasure. The very thought of what lay ahead scared him as much as it excited him.

  Sam unbuttoned his short-sleeved cotton shirt, slid it off his shoulders and tossed it onto the floor at the foot of Jeannie’s bed. The way she looked at him—her eyes caressing him, her lips tasting him, her hands tormenting him without once touching him—stirred his blood and hardened his body.

  Thick, cascading strands of her silky brown hair covered one bare breast, leaving the other an uncovered temptation. Her breasts rose and fell as she breathed. Her lips parted on an indrawn sigh.

  He sensed her longing, her need a viable force, strong enough to sweep them both over the edge of conscious action. He had to remain in control for just a while longer, until he was certain he wouldn’t hurt her, wouldn’t destroy her with the power of his desire.

  Unzipping his navy blue shorts, Sam didn’t take his eyes off Jeannie. He trembled, wanting her, needing her. Lured by her femininity, lost to her seductive charms, he surrendered to the desire he could no longer control.

  Sliding his shorts down to his ankles, he kicked them aside. He stood before her, all power and masculine muscle, in a pair of navy blue briefs, his sex straining against the silk fabric. Perspiration moistened his hands and forehead; dots of sweat broke out across his upper lip. A white-hot need seared him to the bone.

  Jeannie wanted to touch him, to run her hands over every inch of his body, caress every bulging muscle, kiss his tiny, pebble-hard nipples, thread her fingers through the thatch of thick brown hair on his chest. If only he would come to her, allow her to touch him.

  Her magnificently beautiful, elegant savage.

  Sam eased down on the bed, placing his knees on either side of her feet. Crawling slowly up her body, bracing himself with his hands so that the contact was whisper light, he covered her body with his. She touched him hesitantly at first, sweeping her hands across his shoulders. He shuddered; she trembled.

  And then exactly what she had been waiting for happened. The connection. The blending. Gradually, with just faint glimmers of awareness, Jeannie felt Sam’s hunger and knew that it more than equaled hers. He was a virile man, experienced in the ways of the world, and yet he was uncertain. He was afraid his desire would be too much for her to handle, that it would be too powerful for her fragile innocence.

  He needed her reassurance. She had to do more than issue an invitation; she would have to be the persuader, seducing him beyond the point of no return.

  Arching her body, lifting herself closer to Sam, she kissed his chest, then drew a damp circle around first one and then his other nipple. He sucked in a deep, excruciating breath.

  She felt the first crack in his iron control. She kissed his shoulder. He eased his body lower, his chest brushing her breasts. She gasped when her breasts tightened, almost painfully, and sent a signal straight to her core.

  Slipping her arms around his waist, she buried her face in his shoulder. Her tongue drew spiraling circles from his shoulder, up his neck and to his ear. She squirmed beneath him, well aware of what her movements were doing to him. He was holding back, trying to be patient. And it was killing him!

  Didn’t he know, she wondered, that she felt every painful throb of his sex, every pulsating ache? Had he no idea that the longer he postponed their lovemaking, the more painfully aroused she would become?

  She kissed his cheek. The pulse in his neck twitched. She covered his mouth, licking like a kitten lapping cream until he opened to her insistent little tongue, taking her inside as he followed her lead. Intensifying the kiss, Sam devoured her as he gripped her hips, lifting her up and against his arousal. She cried out, the sound trapped in his mouth, as shudders of intense pleasure skyrocketed through her.

  Continuing the kiss, he divested her of her pink panties and eased his hand between her legs, parting her thighs. With an equal amount of urgency, she tugged on his briefs, pulling them down and over his firm, rounded buttocks, pausing to stroke him lovingly. Using her foot, she slid his briefs to his ankles and off onto the floor.

  With each touch, each kiss, each urgent moan, the link between them grew stronger, until Sam, too, faintly sensed Jeannie’s feelings. Knowing she wanted him as much as he wanted her only added fuel to the blazing flame of his passion.

  He touched her nipple, already beaded and throbbing. She swallowed a moan. He placed his mouth on her, suckling her breast. She wrapped herself around him, her soft little cries a plea for release.

/>   “Please, don’t wait any longer,” she whispered as he suckled her other breast. “Oh, Sam, put an end to our pain.”

  Too soon! Too soon! his mind told him. Now! his body urged. She feels what you feel, his heart told him.

  “I need to protect you,” he said.

  “I need no protection from you, Sam.”

  And then he sensed her probing, seeking entrance inside his mind. He allowed her to come in, and when their minds joined, each realized the searing-hot fire and uncontrollable force of their combined madness. Knowing he would hurt her, if only briefly, Sam tried to be gentle, lifting her hips, entering her by slow degrees.

  He was so big; she was so small.

  He was a savage brute; she was a gentle angel.

  No! she cried out silently. I’m as savage as you are and you are as gentle as I am. Take me, Sam. Please take me now!

  Sam responded by thrusting to the hilt, giving her all of himself. She groaned, accepting the quick, hot pain. He stopped, his breathing ragged, sweat dripping from his body onto hers.

  Heaven help him, but he’d felt her pain. How was that possible? It wasn’t.

  The pain subsided. She knew he’d felt it, too, but had dismissed it as impossible.

  Jeannie moved, lifting up, wrapping her legs around Sam’s hips, urging him to resume. Pleasure rippled through him as the pressure built. Pulling partly out of her, he hesitated only a second before plunging deeply again and starting the primeval mating dance.

  His iron control cracked in a dozen places, weakening his defenses, making him more vulnerable, open to her possession. The agony intensified, the pressure inside them close to exploding. Jeannie clung to him, whispering his name in gasping little chants. Sam moaned dark, desperate, erotic words to her.