Tiger Eyes

by Kimberly Nee

“I didn’t. You did.”

  Heat stung her cheeks, which she tried to hide by drawing her shirt over her head and taking her time inside the body of it. “I did not.”

  “You did, Gabby. I merely mentioned that you hide a rather attractive side.”

  Poking her head through the neck of her shirt, she scowled at him. “You twist words, Diego. You always have and you are doing it now.”

  “I am doing no such thing.” He didn’t trouble himself with his shirt, but ignored the sad, ragged heap. Instead, he settled back on the cave’s sandy floor, and stretched his injured leg before him. “Nor will I apologize for finding that temptress so appealing. Any man would. I’m not made of stone, you know.”

  His words sent a finger of pleasure tickling along her spine, but she tried to ignore it as she gathered her hair to knot at her nape. It was too hot to let the thick mass rest against her skin, and she was tired of shoving it out of her eyes.

  Diego lifted one brow a fraction, but said nothing. Instead, he tore the remaining sleeve from his shirt. Passing it to her, he said, “To tie it back.”

  The fabric lay limp in his hand, once white but now various, none-too-appealing shades of brown. Still, she took it, wrapped it about the hank of hair in her hand, and knotted it easily. He smiled, saying, “You’re welcome.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek to hold back her sour retort, instead managing, “I thank you.”

  “Now, was that so difficult?”

  “You were saying?”

  “Oh, yes. You’d rather I flatter you some more.”

  He said it with a grin so full of mischief she couldn’t hold on to her irritation. A laugh rose to her lips and she didn’t even try to keep from chuckling. “It does sound as though I’m fishing for compliments, doesn’t it?”

  “I will take that to my grave,” he promised, lifting a hand to scratch mindlessly at his chest.

  She tried not to watch his long fingers as they moved over his olive skin, but it wasn’t easy. His words slowly sank into her brain and her jovial mood faded. “You say that as if we might one day get off this island.”

  “I’ve not yet given up hope, Gabby. I’ve survived this far and have no intention of giving up just yet. We’ve been here how many days?”

  She crawled over to the far wall of the cave, where she kept a tally of how long they’d been on the island by scratching a mark into the rock with another rock. “Five days.”

  “Five days…” His voice trailed off as he stared hard at the marks on the wall. His eyes took on a faraway look as he murmured, “I thought it was no more than two, perhaps three, days.”

  He looked lost as he said it. Lost and confused, not anything like the Diego she knew. Gone was the arrogance, the cockiness, he normally exuded as easily as breath. Instead, he sank back, his expression dazed as he stared without seeing.

  “You were unconscious with fever for two days,” she reminded him.

  “But still…”

  “There is no still, Diego. Please, please do not do this. Don’t let some foolish, wounded pride—”

  “Foolish pride? Wounded pride? I’ve had to rely on you to take care of me since we washed ashore here, Gabby. Do you know what that means?”

  “Yes. It means you might actually have to thank me for not letting the fever or the wounds or anything else kill you.” She shook her head, wanting to slap him for his idiocy, for that stubborn male pride of which he had an overabundance. Well, she was tired of coddling him. He was well enough now for her to tell him exactly what she thought. “It means that I’ve had to almost sit on my hands to keep from throttling you at times, and that only because when I do throttle you for all this hell, I want to be damn certain you can fight back!”

  He stared at her hard for a long moment, his eyes flashing almost as brightly as the fire. “Don’t think for one moment I am incapable of defending myself, Gabriella.” His voice was low and heavy with an angry warning she’d never heard before. “I damn well could not only fight back, but it would take very little for me to snap your neck, so I would suggest you take better care in choosing your words.”

  He rose and made his way to the mouth of the cave. As he disappeared through it, Gabby hurled a coconut shell at the wall to alleviate the remaining temper dammed up inside her. It hit the wall with a dull thud and hardly alleviated anything. With a strangled shriek, she sank to the floor and clapped a hand to her forehead. How had it all gotten so out of control so quickly? One minute they were every bit the tender lovers, and the next…

  She rubbed her forehead and jumped as thunder rumbled overhead again. Part of her wanted to go out after him before he did something foolish, before something happened to him. His leg was hardly healed enough for him to be walking on it for great distances and, should whatever it was that kept growling at them decide to give chase, Diego wouldn’t stand a chance. He could fall. He could end up killing himself.

  On the other hand, if she went after him and bruised his already battered pride even more, she might kill him herself. Neither scenario brought her much peace and she muttered a curse as she made her way out of the cave as well.

  The weather was terrible, rain lashed palm trees as the wind bent them nearly in half. Lightning slit the black, starless sky, and she jumped as a low rumble of thunder rolled in from the water. The rain was cold, almost icy as it stung her skin and soaked her hair into snarled strings, torn free from its tie by the wind slicing across the beach.

  “When I find him, I will kill him.” She turned her head away and brought a hand up alongside her face in an attempt to shield her eyes from the stinging droplets.

  Between the rain and the lack of moonlight, she couldn’t see more than several paces ahead, and only knew the ocean by the whitecaps foaming up where the waves crested. The tide was going out, the waves breaking farther from the shore, and she yelped as chilled fingers of foam sluiced over her bare feet.

  It was no use. If Diego was on the beach, she couldn’t see him. Cupping her hands about her mouth, she shouted, “Diego!” with as much force as she could muster to get her voice above the howl of the wind. “Diego!”

  As she screamed over the wind, she plodded along, losing her balance when a particularly brutal wind gust tore in from the water. It flung sand along its path, and Gabby gagged, spitting out a mouthful before she swallowed it.

  Her clothes stuck to her, soaked clear through, as she reached the edge of the jungle. So much noise came from the storm itself that she couldn’t tell what was storm and what was jungle noise. The lightning helped briefly, but it was little use. The storm won. She had no choice but to return to the cave.

  She squished her way back into the cave, muttering about stubborn men and their foolish pride as she stripped off her wet trousers to lay them by the fire. “I suppose I’ll sleep in this,” she sighed, pulling at the wet linen clinging to her belly. It slapped back with a most uncomfortable chill. “It’s either that or sleep naked, and I am not sleeping naked.”

  With that, she stretched out beside the fire as well, her cheek resting on her hands. But tired as she was, sleep would not come to her. She popped up at every sound, started at every noise, whipped about to peer toward the front of the cave, convinced Diego had found his way back.

  “Damn it,” she mumbled as she settled back into her makeshift bed. “Why should I even care if he comes back? I didn’t make him run away. He chose that. So stop being such a bloody ninny and go to sleep, Gabby.”

  Chapter Eleven

  It was nearly dawn when Diego crawled through the mouth of the cave. He was soaked to the skin and disgusted with himself for his asinine behavior. What had Gabby said that was so horrible? She tried to keep him from beating himself up, and for her trouble she had his foolish loss of temper.

  His leg ached, dull throbbing pains flowing up into his hip and down into his knee. The pain eased a bit each day, but he was beyond frustrated with how slowly it healed. They couldn’t get off this damned rock soon eno
ugh, as far as he was concerned. He didn’t even care about going after Carmichael. He just wished to be back home on St. Phillippe.

  Home. It had been a lifetime since he wanted to go back home. Life at sea was by far less complicated. He had freedom, and any lady who caught his interest wanted nothing more from him than a few hours in his bed, which suited him perfectly. On St. Phillippe, he was far too well aware of being the prey when it came to those women searching for a husband, and it seemed every one of them sought him as their prize. Best to avoid that if at all possible.

  Though his wound didn’t pain him quite so much now, he still dragged his leg along, as it protested the strain of entering and leaving the cave. How wonderful it would be when his leg would support his full weight without so much as a twinge!

  He groaned as he emerged from the entrance and was able to straighten up. Another groan as he stretched, but it died on his lips as he gazed upon Gabby, curled into a ball by the fire, sound asleep. Her dark hair spilled across the sand like sable-colored silk, gleaming in the fire’s glow. She was so damn beautiful in that soft glow he wanted to ease himself over her and wake her with soft, playful kisses, starting at the soles of her feet and ending with his lips seizing hers.

  Her shirt fell to below her hips and he almost groaned at the sight of her legs, bathed gold by firelight. They were long and muscled from years of balancing on a moving deck, and he knew of the long, narrow scar running the length of her left inner thigh. He groaned just thinking about it.

  “Enough. There will be time enough for that,” he muttered as he sank down with his back against the rough stone wall. He was tired, but the pains in his leg made sleeping impossible, so he sat there, his gaze on Gabby as she slept peacefully.

  It was difficult to sit there and watch and not think about what had happened between them. It had been a terrible idea, drawing her into him for that kiss, as he knew exactly where it would lead. But after everything that had happened over the last week, making love to her, giving in to baser instincts and overpowering desire, was the only thing he wanted. Gabby had always had that power over him. She was the one woman he ever let have any sort of control over him, and now he was powerless to retrieve it back. A blessing and a curse, to say the least.

  Though to be honest, he wasn’t exactly certain he wanted it back, either. He couldn’t explain why he was drawn to her. Lord knows he knew women far more beautiful, more alluring, but there was something about Gabriella Markham. Something he could not have enough of. No matter what hell they put one another through, he couldn’t her get out of his head.

  She was headstrong and stubborn, with a head for adventure and a body made for sin, and he wanted her. All of her.

  She never offered up any explanation, left no letter behind, no word through friends. She simply up and vanished the morning of their wedding.

  “And I let you go, mi dama hermosa.” He scooped a handful of rocky sand to let slip through his fingers.

  He was far too angry, with just enough bruised pride, to refuse to go in search of her. In time, he came to regret that decision.

  Of course, he was not one to dwell, as he took to the seas with Iñigo again, and over the last five years, became a most wealthy bachelor, married only to the seas and happy with his ship as his mistress. Iñigo retired from sailing and Diego was more than happy to assume that side of their partnership. Iñigo was married, with a family, while Diego took advantage of his freedom to the fullest.

  But now, seeing Gabby again, ripped open the old scar. Making love to her again was a mistake. One he could not repeat. Even if they never made it off the island, he had to keep his distance from her. It would be far too easy to fall into the trap again.

  She sighed in her sleep and rolled toward him. Stifling a groan, he rubbed his exhausted eyes. “Unfortunately, keeping away will be much easier said than done.”

  He gritted his teeth as he stretched out beside her. As if sensing his nearness, she reached for him, snuggled up against him, and tucked her head against his shoulder. Her arm came down to drape over his belly, and the pains in his leg seemed to fade into nothingness as he drifted off completely at peace.

  Gabby stirred, blinking sleep from her eyes as she lifted her head from her almost-numb arm. As she did, a hand pressed in against her belly, warm and firm. She froze, forgetting about the tingling in her left arm as she glanced down at Diego’s hand, splayed against her belly.

  “What the…” When had he returned? And more importantly, why did he hold on to her so…possessively?

  Catching the outer edge of his hand between her thumb and forefinger, she gingerly lifted it from her, wriggled out from beneath it, and set it back gently against the sand. Diego groaned in his sleep, then sighed as he stretched and rolled onto his belly.

  Thankfully her trousers were dry. Stiff, but dry. She wasted no time in tugging them on. The last thing she wanted, or needed, was him to awaken to the sight of her half-naked. She might make the same foolish mistake she made yesterday.

  After rubbing her eyes completely open, she crouched down to hurry from the cave into the warm morning sunlight. The storm blew out and debris from shredded coconut palm fronds, tree branches and various other scraps were strewn across the beach. Both immature green and matured brown coconuts littered the white sand as well to add to the mess.

  The ocean was still rough and the surf crashed wildly against the shore. White fingers of foam stretched toward her as she waded out. Seaweed, driftwood and other flotsam and jetsam dotted the water’s surface, swirled about her legs and washed up onto the beach.

  The sunlight dazzled her, dancing off the water’s surface to sting her eyes, even with her hand shading them. Though she didn’t expect to see anything on the water, her heart sank just the same as she saw nothing but rough, white-capped waves and clear blue sky stretching to the horizon. The feeling of isolation, of desolation, swept through her as she stared across the shimmering surface.

  She stood there, the warm water sluicing and bubbling about her knees, just below the hem of her breeches. Small silver fish darted past her, their scales glinting in the sunlight. The longer she stared down, the more fish became visible, in varying sizes and colors.

  Overhead, three seabirds glided on the breeze, their white-feathered wings spread wide to catch the wind and ride it out to sea. It lifted them higher, and then, all three changed direction to swoop down at the water.

  Two of the three emerged from the ocean, each with a fish clamped in its beak. As if performing for her, they repeated their ritual, and all three were successful this time. As she stood there, the birds continued their acrobatics until they had their fill, or grew bored, and turned back inland. They swooped over the treetops and out of sight, leaving her alone with her less-than-sunny thoughts.

  Sloshing back up to dry sand, she plunked down, knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped about her shins, her chin resting on the peaks of her knees. What was she thinking? Sleeping with Diego was hardly a wise decision and she knew it.

  “I must be mad,” she muttered, glancing up as more birds burst forth from the jungle. These were beautiful and majestic, their feathers bright shades of orange, red, yellow and green. Not parrots, but perhaps a close relative, and noisy as they chattered amongst themselves until they soared out of earshot.

  “I don’t believe this,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead slowly with her fingertips. “I most definitely know better than to do that with him, of all people.”

  Sand squeaked and she twisted about to see Diego limping his way toward her. His eyes were heavy-lidded and he rubbed his left eye with a fist. He didn’t pause by her, but instead limped knee-deep into the surf, where he bent over, cupped a handful of water, and splashed his face.

  “You’re moving better this day,” she called as he turned back toward her. Her stomach did a slow tumble as water beaded on his chest, droplets clinging to the dark hair spread thick across his chest, down to the waist of his breeches. He emerged fr
om the water, closing the distance between them.

  “It feels better. I suppose I owe that to you, Gabby.” He gingerly lowered to the sand beside her, his wounded leg stretched out straight. “And I do thank you for what you did.”

  “I am not so much a monster that I’d wish a slow, painful death on you.” She shrugged, giving in to a small grin. “At least, not yet.”

  “Ah, but if I recall correctly, it is I who should be angry with you.”

  “Very well.” She reached up to carefully work the strip of linen from the snarls of her hair. The heat stinging her cheeks had nothing to do with what had happened between them the night before, and everything to do with the fact that he was right. If anything, he would be well within his rights to still despise her for what she had done. “I had my reasons, though, for doing what I did.”

  He gave her a long, hard stare. His eyes were calm, almost tranquil, but she knew him well enough to know that did not necessarily mean they reflected his true feelings. He was a master at hiding those. Still, she turned away, catching her hair at the nape of her neck and retying the linen about it.

  The silence stretched for a long, uncomfortable spell, then Diego sighed, stretching his arms high above his head. “Perhaps yesterday was not such a good idea.”

  “Perhaps. But, I’d rather not speak of it, if it’s all the same to you.” She glanced over at him. It was funny, but five years had passed, and yet, it seemed as though it had been mere weeks since she’d last cast eyes upon him. Time treated him well. Better than well, in fact. “Are you still sailing with Iñigo?”

  He shook his head. “No. He prefers dry land these days. He’s married now, you know.”

  This was a surprise. “Iñigo Sebastiano? Married? You are joking.”

  “I am not and he is,” Diego chuckled. “With children, no less. Three, to be exact. Two boys and a baby girl.”

  “Somehow I cannot see him as settled. He was always so…restless…”

  “His wife has tamed him, much to my regret. I miss sailing with him.”