The conversation quieted and Hanna seemed to drift into a light sleep. Christina sighed contentedly, closed her eyes, and listened to the distant shouts of the men's game—now in the form of water races. She felt that ever-so-pleasant exhaustion from basking beneath the sun and she drifted into a light sleep herself until... until—
Something brushed against her leg.
Cool and moist... She stirred, started to turn and suddenly, with no other warning, the sting of razor-sharp teeth sank into her leg and she screamed. Hanna bolted up in the instant and saw only the lizardlike creature upon Christina, a creature found only in nightmares. Smaller by feet than an alligator, but with jaws as vicious as any shark, the creature was but a frenzy of snapping jaws and she was screaming and screaming, they were both screaming, as Hanna helplessly, desperately grabbed Christina's arm in a futile effort to escape.
Justin was moving before he knew what it was, before he knew it was her, before he saw the horror of it. He fell onto the beach running and, then seeing it, her name burst through him like an explosion of lightning. Already running feet ahead of Justin, Beau could not see it but he smelled blood and heard screams; he would defend—defend to the death.
Christina didn't know anything but the merciless snapping of jaws to her flesh. Her arms, legs, her whole body thrashed, convulsed, becoming one scream to get it off, to stop it. Then red, red on green and her blood was everywhere.
Reaching the spot first and with vicious speed, Beau pounced on the creature. The dog snatched a long tail into his mouth and bit down with all his strength, trying to tear it away from her. The creature briefly turned its jaws to snap at this but in a flash of an instant it returned to its first victim, now nothing but an indiscriminate snapping of jaws.
Followed by half a dozen men, Justin raced upon the scene just as Beau bit into the creature's back. The creature turned to snap at the dog and Justin, having no weapon, without a thought landed on the creature to seize the chance. He grabbed the jaws in his hands and using an unnatural strength fueled by adrenaline, he held on for his life. It was John who moved in a sudden rush and joined his strength with Justin's to force the jaws back. For a moment time stopped. The creature hung between them, every muscle in the men's bodies flexed. Teeth punctured fingers clean through. Slowly, inch by inch, the mouth was forced apart. Suddenly, mercifully, the jaws snapped back; blood spurted briefly from a deep recess of its mouth. It was dead.
In the next instant Justin had lifted Christina up and into his arms.
Hot stinging pain shot through her, seeming to come from everywhere except her one leg. She pressed herself against him, burying her face to stop her cries. One leg shook uncontrollably but otherwise she held rigidly still, afraid to move or look, afraid she had lost her leg.
"It's all right, it's all right... it's over," Justin whispered as much to himself as to her. But it wasn't all right, it was far from all right, and he shouted to everyone gathered around staring in helpless shock, "For God's sakes someone get Cajun!"
He looked at her wounds for the briefest of moments and saw only blood. He shut his eyes to it but felt the warmth of her life covering the moisture of his skin. He shouted again for Cajun. His eyes were closed though and he didn't know that Cajun was already there, assessing the situation at a glance, acting without words.
Cajun carefully wiped off her leg. He held a cloth to the worst wound and knew at once that like glass cuts, the wounds looked far worse than they actually were. She would live if he stopped the bleeding in time.
Cajun's orders came with a quick assurance that brought everyone relief. Everyone moved at once, scattering to do Cajun's bidding. Justin snapped to and carried Christina swiftly to their cave. The men all set off for water, both salt and fresh. This one reed plant was needed to strip into threads for stitches. Hanna was too shaken to move. Elsie, who had come running at the first screams, set off for Cajun's medicines and to fetch some other rubber plant leaves. Jacob was told to follow Justin.
Once in the cave, the skylight was lifted and bright afternoon sun flooded in from above. Justin became aware of everything at once. He had been whispering meaningless words of comfort to her the whole time. She had dug her nails into his arm, her teeth in his shoulder, all, he suddenly realized, to stop herself from crying out in pain. And it had to be a lot of pain, for her better leg was shaking uncontrollably.
Operating with his intuitive gifts and keen understanding of all things medical, Cajun, too, was acutely conscious of her pain.
She would have to be knocked out.
Justin watched Cajun's fist clench in a silent signal that he was to hit her. He looked back at Christina. Her pain... her pain... Yet he could not do it. Not even to save her.
"I can't."
"You must."
Justin hesitated, then tried to shift her. Her nails dug in harder and she cried in a gasp of pained whispers, "No, don't let me go... please—"
"Christina, I have to... Just for a moment—"
She cried out again, weakly struggling to press harder against him. Not altogether coherent, all she knew was the sharp memory of not being able to get it off her. She was safe in his arms. Justin saw this and he looked at Cajun and Jacob for help.
Neither man had ever seen him helpless, as he was now.
Jacob and Cajun exchanged glances and Jacob stepped forward. With both alarm and urgency, he shouted once. "Christy!"
Christina jerked her head around with a gasp, expecting to see it or her leg or she knew not what, and in that instant, Cajun's fist hit her head.
Justin stared in shock, for it seemed Cajun had barely touched her and yet she went out. That was all it took. Relief swept through him. Relief that she was unconscious. Relief that he hadn't hit her, for he would not have known how little it took.
* * * * *
She first felt it brush against her, cool and moist, and before she could move, she felt the vicious biting. She bolted up with a scream, arms and legs thrashing to get it off... get it off—
And almost in the same instant, his arms came tight around her. "I've got you... I've got you. It's only a dream, a dream..."
She collapsed all at once against him, trembling and scared, just scared. It took several long minutes but with the security of his arms and the gentle coaxing of his voice, she began to calm down at least enough to feel her leg and arm wrapped tight in bandages and the dull sting of multiple cuts.
"My leg..." she whispered. She couldn't feel it. "Is my leg—" she couldn't finish.
"It's fine, you're fine. Cajun stitched you up good." He smiled at her, looking with tenderness and concern. "Here, drink this. It will help the pain," and like the first time she woke in his arms, he reached behind her and handed her a coconut shell. "My men volunteered the last of their rum. Drink it quick, without tasting."
She did as he bid and, with her eyes closed, she swallowed and swallowed, not feeling the hot liquid until it burst like fire in her stomach. She coughed but managed to keep it down and almost immediately she felt its warmth spreading through her.
"Better?"
She nodded, tried to smile.
"Does it hurt much?"
She shook her head.
"Liar." His hand brushed tenderly through the long hair. It had taken a good hour of washing to get all the blood out. "Do you remember what happened?"
She closed her eyes. "Only not being able to get it... off, to stop it. I remember you grabbed it, and then John—what was it?"
"We don't really know. Much like an alligator, only smaller and about a hundred times more vicious. Samuel claims he once overheard some men talking of alligator hunting, when another man mentioned a rare creature that lives on the South Sea islands, like an alligator or a giant lizard, as yet even unnamed."
Justin stopped short of the rest of the story: that a ship sailed to the islands to get fresh food supplies, stopping for just overnight. Two men, land starved, chose to sleep on the beach. Their screams alerted the crew
but by the time the crew reached the beach, all that was found was this lizardlike creature devouring the remains of two bodies.
"I had my men pound through the bush looking for others like it but nothing was found."
"Beau? Is Beau all right?"
At the sound of his name, Beau rose from the foot of the bed and came to Christina's side, thumping his tail in greeting. "He's fine, just a few cuts," Justin replied. Both he and John had puncture wounds through their fingers to attest to the creature's frightening strength. Beau's thick fur had protected him far better than their mere skin.
Christina shifted to pet him and Justin felt a shiver go through her. Cajun had said having lost so much blood, she'd likely be chilled upon waking, and that it was important to keep her warm.
Elsie had gone in search of the only blanket on the island and eventually found it in Carolyn Knolls's possessions. Despite the circumstances, the woman refused to turn the item over. Elsie had to call him to forcibly take it from her. Justin was beginning to wonder if there was no limit to that woman's malevolence.
"Are you very cold?" he asked, tucking the blanket around her.
She nodded, staring to shiver uncontrollably.
"Here, drink another cup of this." He pressed a coconut shell to her lips, which she drank from thirstily, finding the rum mixed with milk this time. Then she tried to press herself even closer to his warmth. Justin brought his leg protectively over her and embraced her tightly.
"Don't ever let me go," she whispered on the edge of sleep.
"Never."
* * * * *
Christina, comfortably nestled in Justin's arms, tried to follow the conversation between Justin and Jacob. It sounded important. The small effort proved taking; she felt exhausted and, staring into the amber coals of the campfire, she found herself drifting into that pleasant consciousness—not quite sleep but not wakefulness either.
After two long weeks of recovering, she was doing much better—at least she knew she'd live and if Cajun was right, she'd be walking in another week. After the multitude of cuts healed the only permanent damage seemed to be scars. Two large scars on her leg, a long one on her stomach, side, and arm, and a very small one on her chin. One Justin swore could not detract from her beauty.
But then, there was that nightmare...
"I'm tellin' ya," Jacob's voice rose suddenly to jolt her awake, "your Mister Robinson is the shrewdest and most greedy bastard I've ever known. And I wager he's spent your fortune twice already."
"Not a chance," Justin replied after a sip of ale that his men had drawn up from the shipwreck that day. "True, he's a shrewd bastard but that's why I employ him. However, I do trust him. He agreed to wait seven years before he declared me dead and I believe he will."
"Who's Mr. Robinson?" Christina asked.
"The man I hired to manage my fortune."
"Aye, manage it—spend it." Jacob laughed. "Take my word, you'll return to Boston to find not only did Mr. Robinson declare you dead and buried, but the bastard will have forgotten your name."
"I'm not worried," Justin replied with an easy-shrug. "Should that happen, I'll just have to round up the men and start over again."
Jacob laughed in earnest and tossed another log into the pit. "Justin, you're the only man I know who could lose that much with a shrug. Over five years of our hard work, and you would just start over again."
"I would and I could, Jacob, for I have plans for that money."
Christina knew of some of those plans. Justin had said his money was being invested in various holdings in the New World: mines, mills, and some munitions factories. More ships too. She tried to stifle her natural response to someone who would make money for money's sake, for such efforts were considered sinful by most, merely distasteful by others. Justin had laughed at such sentiments, said they were archaic English notions and would soon die, for "what could be more noble than building things and seeing men to work?" His men had readily agreed and she would like to believe this true but still...
Their small party was soon joined by others. Eric and Elsie returned from a walk, then Brahms and Kafir returned from hunting. Having caught three plump birds for supper, they immediately set about cleaning. Christina liked both Brahms and Kafir tremendously; Brahms's stoic peacefulness and his kindness, and Kafir's good humor, nothing and no one excluded from his quick tongue. Knowing them, it made sense that these two men should prefer the company of Justin, Jacob, and Cajun, rather than the other group that was presently engaged in a boisterous, surely drunken party somewhere down the beach.
Eventually Cajun joined them, silently slipping into the light of the fire. He mentioned something to Justin, who nodded in turn. It was something about the men down the beach but she couldn't catch what, for suddenly everyone seemed to be talking at once.
Elsie was lamenting about a fresh rip in her now hopelessly battered chemise; how in no time they were all going to be left stark naked. The men, for some reason, began a discussion of the European political situation, Napoleon's war with England, and America's response and this oddly, inexplicably, somehow turned into a heated debate over what foods were missed most. Cajun rolled his eyes with a smile at this inane twist in the conversation and Christina laughed when Jacob described his mother's strawberry tarts and Justin said it sounded as though he was talking about a woman.
"Well, since Hanna's not here I can say I might be willin' to trade one or two nights with the lass for just one of them sweet strawberry tarts."
Justin chuckled and pointed to who stood behind Jacob, obviously having just overheard his remark. "Trade me in for a lousy tart, will you?" Hanna asked and then Christina gasped as Hanna dumped the contents of a coconut jar directly over Jacob's head. Jacob cursed, jumped to his feet, and to everyone's amusement, a chase was on.
All this detracted from who Hanna had brought from the sickroom to join the campfire. Still weak and thin but sufficiently recovered, Carolyn Knolls sat down on a log. Wrapped in the blanket, only her frail face showed to the others. She looked decidedly uncomfortable and indeed was. The only reason she let Hanna talk her into coming out was to escape persistent frights from spiders in the cave. On the other hand, too, this was the only society on the island and she might as well start to get used to it.
Conversation continued but there was no denying the tension her presence brought to the group. Carolyn Knolls never ventured a word, nor did anyone attempt to engage her. Everyone knew of her rude, ungracious, and often cruel comments and unpleasant disposition, except when she wanted something. Wanted something like her own private house some of Justin's men were building for her. Jacob had said the house was going to cause a riot of trouble. Christina had not understood the comment; it was one of the things she had planned to ask Justin about that night.
"You know," Justin suddenly commented with but mild interest, "I thought the Knolls name sounded familiar. I knew your husband's father. A Lord Knolls often visited my father at Ash Manor," he explained, "and I met him once or twice while home on holidays. He was a kindly old man and a fair chess player, and I remember once how he helped me out of a pretty bad spot..."
Justin drifted momentarily with the thought, remembering the day and the man. He had been in a particularly bad brawl with three older boys, including his older half-brother, Clinton. Their taunting over his bastard status had been particularly cruel, and not only did he get the worst of it in the brawl, but Lady Cynthia was willing to have him bear the brunt of the punishment alone—three days locked in a room. But Lord Knolls, having overheard the entire incident and acting for his father who had been gone that day, interceded on his behalf. More than that, the old man seemed to sense it was one of the few times, perhaps the only time, Justin had reached the end of his rope. He wanted to return to Jamaica, hating Lady Cynthia, his half-brothers, England, and all that meant, hating life and himself, wishing he could be someone else, anyone else.
"Ah, they got to you this time, didn't they lad?" the old man h
ad first said, kneeling to press a damp cloth to his bruised eye and bloodied lip. Justin still remembered the violent heaving of his chest as he tried to fight the tears that he never allowed anyone to see. "Son, it's a hard lot you have in this life and I daresay, you're going to be called a lot worse before you're through. You've got to remember that it hardly matters what others call you. What counts is yourself, what you make of yourself." He smiled. "I have a sneaking suspicion the lord is making you suffer now, so that you can become someone special. Does that make sense?"
He had nodded and desperately hoped it was true; that he was someone special. The old man had chuckled then. "Damn, but I wish I had been blessed with a son, and I'll tell you, I'd want him to be just like you—not some dandyish fop who had everything handed to him on a silver platter..."
Justin looked up from his thoughts with a smile. "I didn't know Lord Knolls had a son?"
"He didn't," Carolyn replied simply.
It took Justin a moment to assimilate this and when he did, he chuckled. "Ah, the lovely things money and title will buy a man." Carolyn remained silent as did everyone else. Justin asked with renewed interest, "Tell me, will the good lord be waiting for your return?"
"I shouldn't think so. He's quite dead now."
"I'm sorry," Justin said sincerely.
"I'm not," she added, not wanting Justin Phillips—indeed anyone—to think she ever cared for such an old fool.
"No, I see you wouldn't be." Justin felt Christina tense at the cruel remark, saw her look away in embarrassment. He knew such sentiments shocked her, but he wanted to see how far this woman would go. "I knew the lord wanted a son. It's too bad your ah, marriage couldn't accommodate him that far."
She wasted no time in replying. "No one but no one has that much wealth," and she shook her head with a shiver of disgust. "Believe me, nothing on earth could ever persuade me to let those old hands—" She stopped but not in time.
Horsman, Jennifer Page 15