“But they’re wet.”
“No kidding,” she deadpanned, feeling around for her second shoe. Her hand ran into his leg.
“That’s not your shoe.”
“Two for two. I’m impressed,” she groused, the heat of her body climbing ten degrees. “How about helping me find the other one?”
“Here it is.”
“Where? I can’t see a thing. It’s pitch-black in here now.”
“No kidding,” mimicked Blake, his hand making contact with her upper arm, then sliding down to her hand and putting her shoe in it
“The blind leading the blind.”
“I’m going with you.”
“No, that’s okay. I prefer the privacy.”
“And you shall have it when you need it. Until then, you will have me with you.”
“Fine. Play Sir Galahad, if it suits you.”
Several minutes later, when they came back to the cave, Blake insisted on adding more branches to the glowing embers so he could have a makeshift torch to check inside the cave for extra guests, such as a relative to their dinner.
Realizing that another snake might be spending the night with her, Cara was more than glad to wait until the coast was clear.
After Blake came out and gave a nod of all-clear, Cara climbed the four-foot slope and crawled in behind the dog, near the back. Slipping off her shoes, she handed them over one last time for the night so Blake could fill them for Bud.
When they finished the routine, he bid Cara good night, saying he wanted to sit by the fire a little longer. In a way she was relieved by his decision. The tiny cave was going to make sleeping arrangements more than cozy. At least if he stayed outside for a while, she might be able to doze off before he stretched out next to her. If she was lucky, maybe she wouldn’t even notice his return.
Fat chance.
Cara didn’t know how long she might have slept or if in fact she’d fallen asleep at all. But she knew the moment Blake came to bed down for the night. Her entire body went on alert at the sound of him making his way up the embankment. He squeezed into the narrow space between her and the two boulders at the entrance of the cave. She had stretched out alongside the dog, her arm slung over him, using herself as a human heater to keep him warm in the cool coastal air.
With muffled grunts, Blake attempted to settle onto his back. When his elbow dug into her waist, she bit down on her lower lip to keep from making any noise that would let him know she was awake. He ended up shifting to his side, spooning his body with hers. The warmth of his breath caressed her neck. Her entire back, bottom, and legs tingled, sending messages to her brain that she tried to ignore.
As his arm slid over her, she kept her breathing steady, wondering where his hand was leading. But then he reached over and petted his dog. At first she wanted to laugh at herself for the mistaken assumption that Blake had been making a move on her when he’d actually been trying to get to his dog. But the humor quickly dissipated as she realized the poignancy of his need to connect with the critically ill animal.
Unable to hold her silence any longer, she quietly offered, “We can switch places so you can sleep next to him.”
“No, I prefer to stay here. That is, if you don’t mind my reaching over you every so often to check on Bud.”
“I don’t mind at all.” She wanted her body to stop reacting to this man. This was not the time to be thinking about sex. Blake was in a miserable place right now, grieving for his beloved pet. In her mind, she felt his emotional pain. Yet her body was feeling entirely different things that were not at all appropriate, given the circumstances. Refusing to act on her impulses, she closed her eyes and inwardly sighed. “Good night, Blake.”
“Good night, Cara.”
Blake had not slept at all during the entire night. Several times, he’d gotten up to tend the fire while the coyotes barked and howled from a good distance. Each time he’d returned to the cave, he had managed to fit into the tight space next to Cara, though with great difficulty. Once he woke her to ask if they should give Bud more water, which they did, then settled back down for the rest of the night.
Now as he lay on his side, with Cara fitted against the front of him, he noticed the soft light of dawn beginning to dispel the darkness of the cave. He wanted to get up and stretch his sore muscles, which had been cramped into the same position most of the night. But he was reluctant to leave the warmth of Cara’s body. He liked having her tucked under his protective arm. His hand was no longer resting on Bud. Instead, it was precariously close to her breast.
Cara stirred, murmuring something incomprehensible as if she were having a dream. Her back arched slightly, enough to bring her small breast against the knuckles of his curled fingers. She responded in her sleep with a soft sound of pleasure. Her bottom pressed into his groin. A slow heat began to stiffen him.
Damn. The last thing he wanted was for her to wake up right now. He attempted to pull back so she couldn’t feel his full arousal, but there was no room behind him.
“Blake?” she whispered. “Are you awake?”
There was no point in pretending he wasn’t. Sooner or later he needed to do something about his predicament, which was not going to solve itself by feigning sleep.
“Yes,” he said in a raspy voice, managing to sound somewhat groggy.
“It’s morning.”
He smiled at her astute observation. “No kidding.” After his teasing remark, he waited for a jab of her elbow in his ribs to chastise him for mocking her. It never came. Instead, she reached out and placed her hand on Bud’s ribs.
“He’s breathing comfortably now. His heartbeat isn’t racing anymore, either.”
“Do you think the worst is over?”
She turned her head to look up at him in the pale light. The corners of her lips curved up slowly in a drowsy sort of smile. “He made it through the night. I think it’s safe to say he’ll more than likely pull through.”
He kissed her in gratitude, then said, “Thank you.”
She seemed to be half asleep, still languishing in the dream that had affected both of them. Her dark eyes stared at him for a long moment. “You’re welcome.”
Unable to resist the taste of her lips, he lowered his mouth to hers once more. She made a sweet noise again, a low, kittenish purr, as the backs of his fingers brushed across her breast. He unbuttoned her shirt and slipped his hand inside. Her skin was flushed with heat. He caressed one nipple between his thumb and finger with gentle tugs.
When Cara shifted onto her back, her hip rubbed against his swollen flesh, causing him to moan with the ache of wanting her. Her lips parted further. The tip of her tongue touched his, teasing him, inviting him.
As the kiss deepened into a slow, seductive dance, he freed the remaining buttons of her shirt, then opened it. Her back arched, pressing her breast into the palm of his hand. He brought his head downward, taking her other nipple into his mouth. The gentle suckling caused her breathing to grow shallow. His own body tightened, throbbing low in his belly.
Vowing to himself that he would take her slowly, not brutally as he’d nearly done before, he reached for her buckle.
Her hand dropped to his wrist, stopping him.
He glanced up.
Silently, she brought his hand back to her breast, then began to unfasten her own belt. He gave her a slow smile and a slight nod of understanding, returning his attention to her firm, rounded breasts and the delectable feel of the pert nipple against his tongue. She shifted and moved beneath him, removing the last of her clothing as he pleasured her with his lips.
Slow . . . Go slow . . . Take her slowly.
His hand slid down along her flat belly, over the soft curls at the apex of her thighs. As he dipped his fingers into her moist feminine folds, he felt the slick wetness of her womanhood. Her readiness prompted a need in him so great that he had to fight for control.
His heart pounded in his ears. His entire body throbbed. Yet he somehow managed to maintain t
he slow, deliberate seduction. Freeing himself from the restraints of his trousers, he shifted his body over her and positioned himself between her thighs. Her hands slid down to his buttocks, grasping them and pulling him into her. He held back, resisting his desire to take her fast and hard. The tip of his manhood entered her, then pulled out again. She gasped and writhed. He was torturing her, he knew. He was torturing himself as well.
Little by little, he entered her farther, then withdrew completely, each time stroking the outer folds of her flesh as well as her inner core. Her fingers dug into him, but he refused to hasten his pace. And it was killing him. His mouth suckled her neck, harder and harder as he held back his release. Her teeth bore down on his shoulder, biting him as her breath quickened. Her body stiffened beneath him, then gave way to its own quivering spasms of ecstasy. Her gasps came loud and hot in his ear.
Overpowered by his own body’s need, he slid his hands under her and wrapped his arms around her. Then he drove deep inside her, filling her completely, pressing against the hot barrier of her womb.
That one feeling, that one sensation surrounded him, stilling his movement. Nothing else existed at that moment except the feeling of warmth and pleasure. He felt as if his entire being had left behind his physical body and nested within the deepest reaches of this mysterious woman.
Somewhere in the nether regions of his mind, he heard her soft voice. “Let go, Blake. Let go . . . Take me with you.”
Pictures and images raced past his mind’s eye. Things he’d never seen before. Boats with bright, fanciful sails. People in odd clothing, nearly as bare as the Kānaka. Yet they were not Sandwich Islanders.
Panic swept up his throat. God, what was happening to him? He was making love to Cara, wasn’t he? Why was he seeing—?
“Let go, Blake. Let go . . .”
“NO!” His yell was muffled as he buried his face in her neck. He bucked against her, pounding the images from his mind, bringing back only the unsatiated male need. Desire mounted with each thrust. Then came the huge burst of excruciating pleasure, followed by wave after wave of shuddering release.
Collapsing on top of her, he refused to kiss her or thank her or say anything at all to this sorceress. The mere touch of her flesh did things to him unlike anything he had ever before experienced, reaching deep inside him, making him remember the past. But now . . . what were the strange pictures he’d seen? How could his mind be filled with such vivid imagery, as if he were transported to another time and place?
Cara felt her heart still pounding wildly from their love-making as her mind filled with his silent curses. Holding him in her arms, she bit her lower lip, trying not to cry yet unable to keep from hearing his fearful accusations. He damned her for manipulating him into this sexual liaison so he would take her with him. Then he wondered if she drove other men from her bed stark raving mad.
He had every right to blame her, she thought, remembering the surreal pictures of fireworks and the Fourth of July that had darted through her head during the heat of passion. Only after Blake had cried out did she realize he’d also seen the alarming glimpse of her modem world. In his mind he accused her of casting a spell on him, destroying his sanity.
“I’m sorry, Blake,” she whispered between gulps of air, her breathing still erratic.
“As am I,” he said on a long exhale, then lifted himself off of her.
Chapter 14
After Blake left the cave, Cara curled up on her side, too stunned to do anything as sensible as gather her clothes together and get dressed. Their lovemaking had started out so beautifully but ended so badly. Never had she experienced the level of completion, yet afterward . . . something had happened that she couldn’t begin to understand.
She had always believed the union of a man and a woman was more than the sexual joining of two bodies, that for a brief moment it was the transcendence of separate existences. Intertwined as one, they shared the same thoughts, same breath, same beat of their hearts. With Blake, she had felt all of that and more. Much, much more.
Then everything had abruptly changed with the strange vision of a holiday unlike any memory of her own. She had no recollection of the people or the place. But it had been enough to scare the hell out of Blake.
Now as she lay on the sweet-smelling bed of grass, she wiped away a tear trailing down her cheek. She didn’t want to believe he thought he’d been coerced into doing this against his will. But it was quite obvious that he believed it.
He believed she was using him, that her feelings were detached, that she would use any means to see that he took her with him when he sailed.
Confused and disillusioned, she swallowed the sob lodged in her throat. A shudder of cold shook her, and she groped blindly for her clothes. Finding her panties inside her trousers, she had started to put them on when Blake reappeared at the opening of the cave. His smoldering gaze settled on her erect nipples, taut from the sudden chill. She made no move to cover herself. Instead, she surreptitiously slipped the tiny scrap of cotton underwear into the pocket of the pants.
She sniffed, tilting her chin up. “I’m getting dressed.”
“So I see.” He came inside anyway, shuttering his initial reaction to her naked body. “Here.”
She looked down at his extended hand, holding out a wadded wet cloth. She took it but said nothing.
“I thought you might want to wash,” he explained, a tough edge to his voice. “It’s the best I could do. I’ll bring more water.”
As he turned to leave, she saw that he had cut off the rest of his shirttail for her. Why? How could he hate her so much in one instant and treat her with kindness in the next? Was he afraid she’d put a hex on him if he didn’t?
She slipped into her shirt, buttoning it just before he came back with both her shoes filled with water.
“I’ll give one to Bud while you clean up and get dressed.”
She nodded mutely, then watched him minister to his dog, his back to her, allowing her a modicum of privacy.
A short time later, they headed back to the path leading to the small town. Bud was awake but too weak to walk so Blake carried his sick dog the entire way. When they reached the village, Cara expected to be dropped off on someone’s doorstep. Instead, Blake led her to a stable, where he hired two horses to ride the final three miles to the hide houses. She didn’t dare question his actions. While his mind was preoccupied with getting his dog back to the Valiant, she wasn’t about to remind him of his promise to leave her.
As their mounts descended the hill overlooking the beach, Keoni and the other Kānaka ran up to meet them. Blake handed his injured dog to his friend, saying only the word “rattlesnake,” then dismounted and helped lower Bud to the ground. One of the men was sent for water as the dog tried to raise his head to look around. Keoni asked another man to go back to the oven for some of the herb the Kānaka kept for snakebite.
Getting down off her horse, Cara picked up the reins of Blake’s horse and stood with both mounts, watching and waiting for Blake to realize finally that he’d forgotten to dump her on a family back in the village.
Then again, he could be planning to send her back alone to return the two horses. No, she told herself, he would not send her off after the way he’d acted yesterday about her safety. And unless he bodily dragged her back to the village, she wasn’t going anywhere but back to the ship.
She listened as Blake explained the events of the last twenty-four hours to Keoni, discreetly leaving out the love-making at dawn, she noted. Then he took her completely by surprise—given his surly attitude—by mentioning her daring risk to save his dog from the snakebite. She found herself feeling a little flattered that he actually gave her credit for saving the animal’s life.
Kneeling across from his captain, Keoni looked straight at her, his broad face creased in a smile. “Wahine do good, eh?”
Cara forced a grin, but noticed that the Hawaiian was well aware that something was wrong. He frowned, glancing from her to Blake
and back again. His eyebrows arrowed upward, then a sly smile crept across his face. He turned back to Blake.
“Maybe wahine do good med’cine for Bud, she good med’cine for all-a us, eh kaikaina?”
“No, not for all of us,” corrected Blake with a sharp tongue. “I only brought her back to care for Bud until he’s completely recovered. After that, she goes. Either way, we sail within the week. Without her.”
Cara’s spine stiffened. His words hurt, especially after the intimacy they had shared. But she would be damned if he’d leave her behind. She had to find Andrew.
One of the men carried a small wooden bucket of water up the hill. When the bucket was set down, Bud struggled to stand but required support. Cara watched the thirsty dog briefly lap the water before he collapsed. Her heart went out to him as she watched him battle his weakness. With a determined spirit, he propped his chin on the edge of the bucket between his two front legs. After a moment’s rest, he stretched his neck and drank until he had to pause again.
“Lazy man’s way,” laughed Keoni, breaking the tension in the air. A dark-skinned Sandwich Islander ran up and handed Keoni a little leather pouch, which Cara assumed contained the herbs he’d requested.
Blake lifted the dog into his arms. “Let’s get him to the ship so you can give him some of your Kānaka medicine.”
“What about the horses?” asked Cara, holding up the reins in her hands.
Blake had already started down the hill toward the bay. He turned and looked at her as if to say, “I don’t give a damn what you do with them.”
Keoni said something in Hawaiian to the Kanaka who’d brought the pouch. The other man eagerly took the horses, happy to have free use of them until the owner sent someone to get them.
On the way down to the water, Keoni spoke to Cara loud enough for Blake to hear. “I heard talk at the oven last night of a yellow-haired boy on a ship bound for Boston.”
“That must be Andrew,” cried Cara. “Blake, did you hear him?”
Mystic Memories Page 19