He glanced her way. “I haven’t found much food as of yet. We have to make use of whatever we find.” Tossing the head into the forest, he grasped the creature’s body and lifted it from the ground. Its long length dangled from his hand.
Snake. She shuddered. Not something she’d ever thought she’d eat, but if it could fill her belly and restore her strength…
David gave her a weary smile. “I doubt you want to eat it raw. So, I’ll set it over here until I can get a fire started.” He walked a fair distance away and dropped the creature onto the sand.
She thought to call him back. What if there was another snake nearby? She scanned the grasses. Nothing. Not yet, anyway. Amelia rolled to her side and pushed off the ground, attempting to sit. Her arms shook and threatened to collapse when strong hands grabbed her, lifting her to her knees.
Relief and something else more feminine flooded through her. She held on to David’s shoulders to steady herself as she worked her legs out from beneath her, her fingertips sinking into warm skin and solid muscle. A vague recollection sprang forth—David hugging her so close, he had trembled, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go. Without meaning to, she leaned in to the real man, desperate to feel his arms around her. She stopped as more hazy snippets of the memory flooded her mind. Oh, sweet heaven. Her pulse hammered an extra beat, and her face flamed. The things she’d said, the blissful kiss they’d shared. It couldn’t be real. She would never say such things, do such things… No, it had to have been a dream. A silly, nonsensical dream.
“Are you ill? Is the fever returning?” David pressed his hand to her forehead. “You’re cheeks look a bit red.”
“The fever is gone, I’m sure,” she insisted in a rush. Dear God. His touch in her dream seemed as real as the one she felt now. Images, sounds, and sensations surged forward. His hands on her skin, his lips pressed to hers in a bone-melting kiss that had blazed through her body to singe the very ends of her hair. She almost reared away from his hand, but his anxious concern stilled her.
He checked one spot, then another, sliding his hand along her forehead and moving to the sides of her face. “You’re right. No fever.” He expelled a breath and sat back. “How do you feel?”
“Tired.” Avoiding his gaze, she relaxed against a tree trunk, mortified beyond compare. She struggled to remember what exactly had happened and what she’d said.
The morning sun glared off the beach, making her eyes burn and her head ache. She shielded her face and caught sight of several brown hairy cups resting near the bowl they’d brought, many filled to the brim with clear liquid. She reached out a trembling hand and picked one up, bringing it to her nose. A slightly sweet smell.
“Go ahead. Take a drink,” David said. “You could probably use another.”
She did look up then. Shadows darkened the skin beneath his eyes, attesting to the hardships he’d endured. He looked tired and drawn.
She sipped from the strange cup. The warm sweet water soothed her throat even as the coarse hair on the bowl scratched her lip. “Is this a coconut?”
“Yes. They won’t be enough to sustain us, but they’re better than nothing.” Crouched beside her, he took up another coconut half and wedged his knife between the shell and the white inside, chipping off a piece. “Here.”
He handed her the scrap. Their fingers touched, and another flash of clarity stole her vision. David had grazed his finger along her face, the stroke a loving caress. He’d looked at her in a way that was…adoring, like he couldn’t live without her. That look had made her feel so good. Cherished. Desired. Happier than ever before.
The memory cleared, and she found herself staring up at David. He stared back, the expression on his face questioning and something else… Was that wariness? “Is something wrong?” he asked.
“I’ve heard of coconuts, but never actually seen one,” she replied offhandedly even as she studied him harder. His intense brown eyes revealed nothing. Still, if what she remembered was real, then did he hold true affection for her? The thought turned her insides to warm honey.
He crooked one brow. “Other than since we arrived, you mean.”
“No, why would you say that?”
His eyes widened a fraction of an inch. “You’ve been drinking from these shells whenever the bowl has been empty. Don’t you remember the last day and a half?” He sounded almost hopeful. Was he holding his breath?
“Not well.” Of all she did remember, whether she drank from coconuts was not at the forefront of her mind.
In a subtle shift of muscle, he visibly relaxed. He lifted a hand to rub his mouth, yet a corner of his smile peeked through.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He lowered his hand, and the smile was gone. “I came across some flint not too far from here.” He stood and picked up a dark rock. “I’d best get to building a fire so we can put more food in your belly.”
Relief. Obviously, he was filled with it. But why? Because of the kiss? Or perhaps because he’d shown his true feelings when he’d thought she wouldn’t remember. If that were the case, should she let the matter lie?
David disappeared into the dense foliage where tropical forest met powdery white sand, and returned with twigs and dry leaves, creating a small pile. She chewed on another piece of coconut, one of many David had left for her, and contemplated the face she’d come to know so well. A dark stubbly beard shadowed his jaw, and his lean cheeks looked haggard from exhaustion. They’d grown closer since they’d left The Wanderer. In a strange way, she cherished that time with him. On the rowboat, she’d allowed herself those things she’d craved for the longest time—intimacy and affection. Maybe he had done the same. Now they were stranded here alone for God knew how long. Didn’t they owe it to themselves to explore where their feelings lay?
“Was I awake at all yesterday?” she asked, the question tumbling out before she could stop herself.
Stacking larger branches to the side, he glanced in her direction. “I wouldn’t say awake, not entirely.”
She bit into another chunk of coconut and chewed furiously, determined to go on. “Were my eyes open?”
“For a time,” he admitted as he knelt in the sand and assembled his tinder.
Another moment from the prior day wiggled itself free, and she choked on the bits of coconut she’d just swallowed. Do you like touching me? In her voice. Her voice. She coughed a time or two and cleared her throat, her stomach shrinking to the size of pea. “Did I say or do anything unusual?”
Silence reigned heavy in the air.
She peered at David. He didn’t have to speak. His eyes said it all. They smoldered with a memory she only vaguely recalled. “Oh, dear God,” she breathed, letting her head drop to her palms.
“Nothing much happened,” David insisted.
When you touch me, I feel…tingly. She groaned. “The things I said.” How much more had she forgotten? If she could, she’d dig a hole right here in the sand and bury herself. Or maybe not. Her jumbled dream spit out one more hint, one more hazy recollection. “Then you…” She looked up.
“Yes, we shared a kiss.” David nodded, regret evident in every line of his body. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have allowed it to happen.”
Amelia concentrated, struggled to confirm her suspicion. She was fairly sure. The words echoed in her mind. Yes, those words had been spoken. “You… You said you loved me.”
David sat up straight. “I what?”
She almost grinned. Poor man didn’t think she’d remember. Which is probably why he’d been so relieved before. “Don’t worry. If you’re not ready to admit—”
“I didn’t…” He struck the blade of his knife with the flint, and a spark flew into the air. “It was you who said the words.”
She’d said them? Her heart sank to her navel, and tears sprang to her eyes. How silly. Of course she’d said them. With a jerk of her arm, she brought the crude cup to her lips again, rapping the hard shell on her teeth. She drank heartily, as if a su
dden thirst had overcome her.
How could she have thought even for an instant that David would declare his love?
Just one look at him revealed the truth. Beads of sweat dotted his brow, and he only spared a glance her way before studying the rock in his hand.
Sadly, the water in her coconut was long gone before the need to weep, her emotions hanging on a precarious thread, most likely because of her recent illness. Yes, that had to be the cause.
“You were ill…out of your mind with delirium.” David struck the steel again, closer to the tinder this time, then frowned. “I assumed you didn’t mean what you said.” His brow creased with concern, or possibly fear. “You didn’t mean it, did you?”
She blinked her tears away. “I don’t even remember saying the words.”
David studied her as if he wasn’t sure he should believe her. As if he waited for any bruises to show. She presented the relieved smile that belonged on her face. “How embarrassing. Let’s not speak of it again.” After all, she had no right to be distressed or heartsore. She didn’t love him. He was right. She’d told him that in a moment of weakness, and any affinity they shared from their time at sea…had been inspired by the assumption that they were going to die.
Now that they’d survived being adrift, who was to say they wouldn’t find a way off this island? Back on the pirate ship, she’d wanted to spare David from her misfortunes. Now was no different.
They would part ways for his own good. He would be safer without her.
Chapter Ten
The flash of disappointment in Amelia’s eyes put a weight in David’s stomach the heft of a coconut. Although she wouldn’t admit it, she’d hoped he’d been the one to say I love you. Why? He wasn’t worthy of her. Couldn’t she see that?
She dusted the sand from her shift, sand that had been there this entire time. “Give me something to do. I’m feeling useless,” she insisted.
David heaved a sigh. She should rest. She needed to recover. Yet he didn’t blame her for wanting to keep herself occupied. A blush still stained her cheeks, and her fingers trembled as they straightened the linen.
“Very well. I’ve gathered some vines. You can knot them together for a fishing net.” He hadn’t seen many fish so far, but he had hope.
He rose, and his head swam for a matter of seconds. While he’d drunk his fill of rainwater, they’d need more than that and coconuts to survive. He handed her a snarl of vines and returned to his mound of tinder.
She immediately went to work. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I realize yesterday must have been difficult caring for me and—”
“Don’t worry yourself. It was nothing,” he assured her, the quaver in her voice almost too much to bear. He attempted to light the leaves again. The spark didn’t take hold. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better.” In fact… “You were lucky to survive.” He waited for the coming argument. She had yet to admit to any good luck, no matter how obvious it was to him.
Amelia contemplated the vines in her hands. “True. We were both very fortunate to find land.”
Had he heard her correctly? “You admit it?”
“How can I not?” She shrugged. “I thought we would die on that boat. I was sure of it.”
Good. About time she came to her senses. He sat back on his heels and rearranged the dried palm fronds to better block the slight breeze.
“Of course that bit of luck doesn’t excuse my poor choice of traveling across the ocean.”
He dropped his hands to his knees and uttered a low curse. “You’re still blaming yourself for our predicament?” Then again, why would he think otherwise? She’d been stubborn in her belief that she was some sort of harbinger of misfortune from the first moment he’d met her.
Her lips curled, a look of disgust on her face. “If it’s not bad luck that puts me and others into harm’s way, it’s my foolish choices.”
Although Amelia said the words, David had a feeling he knew who put them there. “Is that what your stepmother told you?”
Her hands tugged a bit harder on the vines. Her stepmother probably wasn’t her favorite topic of conversation. Still, he couldn’t stay silent. Not on this. Not after hearing her berate herself time and time again. “How old were you?”
She cast a suspicious glance his way.
Likely she worried he’d try again to talk her out of her silly beliefs. She was right to worry. “How old were you when your stepmother first came into your life?”
“Four or five. Why?”
What sort of woman would be so cruel to a young child? He smacked the flint to his blade with more force than needed. The spark caught, and a ribbon of smoke curled above the dry grass. He bent low and blew on the kindling. The smoke dissipated, and he sat back with a growl. “She sounds like a bitter woman. Perhaps even jealous… Did you have a good relationship with your father?”
Her hands stilled, and she hesitated so long, he thought she might not answer.
“My father is a patient, loving man. Even when I was at my worst, he showed me nothing but compassion.”
There was a sadness to her tone he couldn’t ignore. “At your worst?”
“I was an unruly child.”
“In what way?” David tried his luck again, and once more smoke rose from the grass. He lightly blew on the spot, and a flame flared to life. He added more fuel to the fire. They might have snake for breakfast yet.
She released a laugh laced with self-reproof. “In just about any way imaginable. I had horrible tantrums. I constantly argued and talked back to my father.” Her shoulders drooped as she plucked at the vines without much progress. “If he told me not to do something, I went out of my way to see it done.”
How easy it was for her to speak of her own faults. Too easy.
“My father spoiled me,” she continued, “but I also had immense anger.”
“Anger?”
She frowned, her face crestfallen. “My father would tell me about my mother—how pretty she was, how smart and playful. I suppose I was angry that I would never get to know her as my father had.” She shook her head. “My poor father endured a great deal. He grew desperate, and assumed I needed a woman in my life, so he remarried.”
By the time he looked back at the fire, the flame had died low. He added more kindling and a few sticks until it grew to a small crackling blaze. “Did his marriage improve your temperament?” He doubted it would, not with a termagant for a stepmother.
“My behavior grew worse for a time, but eventually…”
How badly they must have got on. “Did she discipline you?”
“She tried. No supper, early bed, locked in the attic for the better part of a day… She even punished me with a switch.” A whisper of resentment tainted her voice for an instant. As well it should.
“She hit you?” he asked, louder than he’d intended.
“Not for long. It galled her that in the midst of the punishment I would laugh in her face.”
“I find that hard to imagine. You’re such a sweet soul.” He’d never so much as glimpsed a hint of temper from her. “Did she give up?”
“No.” Amelia closed her eyes and released a breath before opening them again. “She pointed out the obvious. That I had no right to act the way I did because…” Her voice broke as if she were choking on the words. “She told me that I’d killed my mother, that my mother had died giving birth to me.” Her chin trembled, and she raised a hand to her lips. “I hadn’t known. My father never said.”
The bitch. What a shock that must have been for a young child. David stepped closer, eager to hold her, to comfort her.
Amelia held up a hand and looked away as if to tell him she didn’t need coddling. “From then on, I vowed to be good…for my father. I could finally see how miserable he was because of me. Not only had my mother perished bringing me into this world, but he’d married a shrew because I was a terrible child.”
What? David clenched and flexed his hands, outrage sil
encing him for a full minute. How could she be so damned accepting? It galled him to think… “For the love of Christ! Your hag of a stepmother tells you that you’re responsible for your mother’s death, and you accept it as fact?”
Her spine straightened. “I think I always knew I was at fault. I just didn’t want to believe it.” She cleared her throat. “Not long after, my father fell off his horse and injured his back—”
“And your stepmother decided that, too, was your fault.” He could see it clearly now. Once her stepmother had realized how well her first lie had worked, she’d used that ploy again and again.
Amelia’s stare turned cold. “Yes, she was convinced I had something to do with his accident. She told me if I loved him, I would stay away. But—”
“Did you stay away?”
“Initially, no. Not until he suffered a second injury when I slipped into his room to see him.” Her movements stiff, she yanked on the vines as if that would somehow loosen the knots instead of tighten them. “I didn’t want to believe my stepmother, but she was so unrelenting, and the accidents happened far too often.”
“What of your stepsister? Did your stepmother drive you from her, too?”
Her silence bedeviled him. “Don’t you see what she’s done?” he asked, incredulous beyond compare. “She uses lies and your love for your family to manipulate you into distancing yourself from your father and stepsister.”
“I need to keep them safe,” Amelia snapped.
“Nonsense. This isn’t about protecting your family.” He took a guess, a theory that had formed in his mind the moment he’d heard how her mother had died. “This is about punishing yourself.”
Blue-green eyes flared wide, a mixture of shock and pain in their depths.
“It’s as if you’re banishing yourself from those who love you to somehow atone for your sins. No doubt that’s the reason you never show anger, frustration, or resentment—because you’re too busy focusing those emotions on yourself.”
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