The five men she had ever so coyly convinced would gain her favor if they built her a house stepped forward. She suddenly found herself enjoying this evening's game, thinking of each of their faces when they found a dead man in the morn.
Carolyn eyed each one in turn and silently wondered if she might have made a mistake by selecting John. Big and muscular, not an ounce of fat and obviously capable of handling any number of wenches, John might prove difficult. Of course each man looked uncommonly strong and capable; Justin Phillips made no random choice of his men.
Four of the men—John included—were not unhandsome. Indeed, she saw that a low kind of woman might find them tolerably attractive. Though one man had something wrong with his eyes; they did not seem to work together and this bothered her. She eliminated him, and then another man for what seemed to be a clubbed foot. It was a wonder anyone had survived birth with all their wretched defects. She hardly bothered a glance at the man she considered too unattractive.
Carl witnessed her silent rebuke and stepped back without a word, feeling quite the fool. She had said so many things to him about "hard-working men" and "if she could just have her own place built" and then that warm smile of hers, promises that she'd favor his visits...
He knew many names for such a woman.
This left Carolyn only Samuel and John. Though she liked Samuel's fair looks and could imagine many a maid finding his freckled face handsome in a boyish kind of way, he was even larger than John. Thus her original choice was confirmed.
"What's a lady to do with so many fine prospects," she finally said as though she was a young girl with her first dance card in hand. "But if I must choose— and I see that you do insist—I'll waste no more time and I'll get on with this ah, adventure with you." She pointed at her victim.
John both hoped for and suspected such a decision, and with a quick good-bye and a smile, he stepped through her door.
She smiled sweetly in turn, reminding herself to use all her strength, for flesh yields uneasily to cold metal. The door was shut.
The men were disappointed as they joined the others at the campfire, some laughing, others scowling but all muttering unkind testaments to what was wholeheartedly agreed upon as a poor choice. A colorful discussion of women sprang to life as the men finished their cups, one that soon focused on that kind of women. It was Carl who came closest to understanding the viciousness of the lady's heart, and he was the first to suggest that it wasn't fair the only unspoken for female on the island, one who possessed such a blatantly malevolent nature, should get away with, 'spreadin' 'her thighs for just one of us.'
"The likes of 'her should 'ave the lot of us and not one less. Might teach the uppity wench a lesson."
* * * * *
"It's amazing how we're planning as though Cajun's fantasy was already brought to life." Justin laughed as he and his men returned back to the caves. "No questions asked. Even I'm acting on the premise that his dream has become reality."
"I've lived through too many of the savage's dreams to doubt anymore," Jacob replied. He thought of the dragon and monsoon, one and the same in his mind and he looked out into the clear star-filled night and was thankful again for drawing breath. "But it makes sense on a rational level too."
"I know. Cajun's dreams spring from a sharp mind, that's all. Of course a British military ship will find us. They'll be scouting these seas for the missing Defiant, searching each island for survivors of what could only be either a pirate's capture or a shipwreck. Cajun's far more logic than magic."
"Aye and in any event, time will tell."
"It always does."
They reached the campfire. A warm wind blew across the beach, and the red flames of the campfire leaped and lashed out a greeting. The primitive light on the men's faces, their half-naked and muscled frames, taken with the laughter and heated cursing as each fought for the attention of the whole, all created a scene that seemed taken from man's past. An ancient and savage past.
Assuming Christina waited in their cave, Justin was about to turn in when caught the drift of their conversation. He stepped into the light of the fire with Cajun and Jacob stepping behind him. "I see our, ah, 'lady' has chosen," he addressed the group at large. He noted John's absence with surprise, surprise that she actually picked anyone. "Let me make this clear. So long as she has picked, she's not to see any harm— much as she deserves otherwise. Understood?"
For a moment silence reigned and just as reluctant ayes were called a man's astonished howl broke into the air. All heads turned toward the small shack down the way, though Justin and Jacob first thought it must be Diego and they looked in the opposite direction. Suddenly there was cursing, loud cursing that could only be John, and then a furious shuffle, a lady's cry, and pounding against the wall.
"Geezus! John must be beatin' the lass!" a man exclaimed.
"I ain't never known John to harm a woman—any woman—"
"Hell no! He puts them on a pedestal, treats 'em like they were queens—"
The inane discussion of John's amorous practices came to an abrupt halt as John burst from the shack, dragging Carolyn in front of him. He held a dagger to her throat. Naked except for a thin cotton loincloth, she struggled vainly against John's hold. He quickly brought her screaming to the crowd of men. Carolyn closed her eyes in stark humiliation and fell silent, though she still thrashed in a frantic effort to free herself.
"She tried to kill me," he announced, cruelly tightening his hold to stifle her squirms. "Thrust a dagger in my backside!"
Indeed the knife held to Carolyn's throat held bloodstains and John turned, bringing her with him as he did so. Samuel lowered a torch to his friend's back and the crowd gazed at the nasty, though far from fatal wound.
A low angry murmur rose from the men...
* * * * *
Christina's thoughts were nothing but a tumult of chaotic confusion and anxiously she searched for some balance, an equilibrium if even temporary. She just needed something to calm her fears and put her heart at ease long enough to know what to do, what not to do. She found no such peace at the water's edge and she started back to the caves in search of Cajun. Cajun would help her understand and then, then maybe she could face Justin.
Christina stopped dead in her tracks, and with wide eyes, she took in the horrifying scene. All she saw was John holding a naked Carolyn Knolls before a crowd of men.
"I did try to kill him!" Carolyn suddenly burst in near hysterics as John swung her back around to face the crowd. "I did! I will kill any of you for coming near me! You're not fit to wipe my boots! Do you hear me? Not fit to look at me!"
This outburst caused no small amusement among most of the men. "We may not be fit, but we sure are capable!" one man shouted.
Christina's wits returned all at once and she rushed to Justin. She tripped facedown in the sand, picked herself up, and ran, practically falling on Justin. "Stop them! What are they doing? Justin—"
Justin hardly glanced at her but he motioned to Cajun. "Get her the hell out of here." And before she could react, Cajun was lifting her into his arms to bring her quickly away from the scene.
Carl stepped forward and in a low, nearly inaudible tone, he vented an anger he had held in his heart for long years. An anger that rose from the fact she did not consider any of them fit to wipe her boots; an anger rising from the cruelties of an ancient class system.
"Not fit to wipe your boots, ye say? I remember me own father was hung by your kind... hung 'cause 'e broke 'is bloody back tryin' to feed eight mouths and pay your kind's taxes, hung so that your dogs could eat better than people, hung 'cause one day 'e gets so tired of watchin' 'is own flesh and blood die of starvation that 'he goes out and shoots a partridge on some 'igh and mighty lord's land! Hung! The poor bastard was hung 'cause of you and yours!"
Silence. Then suddenly Carolyn, with a reddened face and a futile twist in John's arms, simply spit in Carl's face. "That's what I care about your father!"
Carl's gaz
e bore into hers as he calmly wiped his cheek. He straightened, raised his arm, and swung hard into her face. Carolyn cried fury, struggled fiercely to free herself from John's arms. John glanced at Justin for permission and an almost imperceptible nod passed between them. And then it started.
John laughed at her struggle and tossed his baggage to another man, who in turn tossed her to another and so on. A loud ribald chorus rose from the men, drowning her predictably desperate cries as she felt one set of greedy arms, then another and another.
Justin and Jacob turned away and, seeing the end, she cried hysterically, "No! Don't leave me with them! Nooo! I'll... do anything... any—"
Jacob shook his head in disgust. "Lord, if any woman deserves what she's going to get, 'tis 'er."
"She has indeed dug her own grave."
Beau was oblivious to all this, still devouring the femur bone in blissful privacy far down the beach, and after a few futile calls, Justin climbed the ladder. He made his way around the ledge, under the waterfall, and into the torch light of the cave. Obviously distressed, Christina jumped up and ran to him. "What was happening? Did you stop it?"
Justin first stared at her dispassionately, then somewhat incredulously. "Stop it?" He strolled to the trunk and sat down to remove his boots. "No, Christina, I didn't stop it."
"No?" she questioned with incomprehension. "Why not? Is it over? Is she all right then?"
Justin made no reply, though he looked at her with some hint of amusement. Her innocence still startled him and he was beginning to see he might have a problem here.
With confusion written on her features and not understanding why he wouldn't answer, Christina moved to the opening of the cave to listen for sounds rising from the beach. She could barely make out the chorus from the men above the waterfall. "I—"
Suddenly a scream broke over the island.
"Oh my God!" she gasped, turning back to him. "They're hurting her! You must do something." She ran to him, dropping to her knees in desperation. "Why aren't you doing—"
"Shhh." He gently laid a hand to her mouth. "I'm not doing anything. I'm going to bed."
"But I don't understand? I—"
"No, you don't understand," he cut her off. "It's fairly obvious that your innocence keeps you ignorant. And I'm not about to change that."
Her eyes widened in bewilderment but she backed away shaking her head. The next scream snapped her head around. She paused for a moment to listen and then enlightenment came with a sudden gasp.
"Nooo," she whispered. "You couldn't... you wouldn't... I don't believe it—" She was backing away from him in horror, then suddenly she turned and ran, thinking only that she would stop it. Justin swore and rose to give chase, catching her just at the waterfall.
"Let me go! Let me go—" she half pleaded, half cried, prying desperately at his arms. "If you don't stop them, I will! I'll do it—"
"You'd likely become part of the meal. You're not going anywhere near there."
He brought her back to the cave and sat her feet to the ground. She seemed to collapse all at once and he loosened his hold as he watched tears filling her eyes.
"How could you?" she cried in a whisper. "How could you—"
"She deserves it, Christina."
"Nooo! No woman deserves such a thing—no one!" She shook her head. "Just because she has a condescending manner—"
"That's hardly the extent of her crimes. Among others are asking my men to build that house in return for her favors, then denying them, doing her best to humiliate them and finally trying to murder John. And had she murdered John, it would have been her second murder. Christina," his tone emphasized the fact, "she killed the poor old man who was foolish enough to marry her!"
She looked up with disbelief and a pause. "How... how do you know that?"
"What I haven't witnessed, she's told me herself."
"I don't believe you. And, and it doesn't matter. No matter what she's done—" She stopped at another sound of a scream—this one a half cry, and she felt all the horror any woman would feel. "Oh please, Justin!" Her clenched fists pounded haltingly against his chest. "Please, I can't bear it—"
"You can bear it and you will. That's enough—"
"No." She panicked. "If you don't, I'll—" Another scream caused her a choked cry. "I'll never forgive you," she cried in a sudden passion. "Never!" She tried frantically to twist away, hurt and angry and afraid, afraid it was true. "You're mean and cruel and—"
"Is that the best you can do? Mean? Cruel?" He questioned lightly. "It's an embarrassingly poor performance sweetheart," he said as though she were but a small child. "You must remind me to teach you... ah, more convincing adjectives—"
Nothing could have shocked or hurt her more than his sudden amusement and she half cried, half gasped and twisted one arm free. With surprising strength, she slapped him in the face. Now Justin was surprised. It was completely out of character for Christina. He lifted her off her feet, and with two strides, he lowered her to the low bed of moss and pinned her beneath him.
"Stop fighting me."
Tears streamed down her face but she could not stop fighting him. Fighting not just him but all of it, the ugly cruelty of the men on the beach, the cruelty of Carolyn Knolls that solicited such treatment. The cruelty of a harsh reality she simply could not face.
Justin was far more grounded in the here and now. The small body twisting beneath him created a more immediate conflict, one that he would end.
"You stop fighting or—" he warned, "I'll find some way to occupy you."
The threat brought a quick awareness of his desire. She stopped abruptly and looked at him through the blurred vision of her tears, fearful that he actually meant such a threat. The last thing she wanted was to be forced to make love to him, for her mind was filled with ugly visions of what must now have happened on the beach and the comparison was neither farfetched nor pleasant.
"Yes, Christina, I want you," he said in an altogether different voice, suddenly not caring, not caring about anything but her. And how could he not want her so? Her hair captured the flame's red light and spread as a wide golden halo around her head, her face was flushed, and her eyes wide, misty, still wild with her fight; wild in a way that just begged to be tamed.
She shook her head almost frantically but he laid his hands on the blanket spread of her hair to still the motion. And then he kissed her, lowering his weight to stifle her brief struggle. The kiss was long and thorough and she squirmed in rebellion, trying to cry out against the tender assault of his lips. Until it became clear that any movement only added fuel to his passion and, once realized, she went limp, completely limp.
Feeling this, Justin lifted partially from her. Amused eyes met enlivened, angry ones. "It won't work, Christina," he whispered against her ear. His lips caressed the long line of her neck and she closed her eyes as shivers passed through her. "Other women might be able to participate passively, but not you." He gently bit her lip. "Never you..."
Holding her arms in one hand, he rolled partially from her and began slowly unbuttoning the tiny buttons of the flimsy shift. She closed her eyes again and said nothing as he untied the waist belt and parted the garment. And still she said nothing, even as he released her to lift the shift from her, stopping only long enough to drink the salty moisture of her tears.
* * * * *
It was sometime close to the dark hours before dawn when he finally released his claim on her and he pulled her unresisting body against him. She cried softly and she trembled slightly, this despite the warmth radiating from him. She felt her heartbeat spiral slowly downward, seeking a peace that could only come with sleep.
CHAPTER 8
Jacob called Justin to Diego's hut early in the morning and Justin, thinking Christina asleep, left without a word spoken. Which was fine with Christina, for she had not a word to say to him. She rose and knew what she must do. While the task caused no small amount of trepidation, it dictated urgency and she dressed quickly,
stopping only to take a quick cleansing bath and not bothering to take the time necessary to get a comb through her hair.
She made her way into the bright sunshine and found Hanna and Elsie finishing a morning meal of fruit at the pond's edge. They both looked tired and solemn, suffering the effects of a long sleepless night. Neither spoke nor offered Christina a greeting as she approached.
"Will you come with me?" Christina asked softly.
Elsie diverted her gaze.
Hanna looked at her feet and, distractedly, she buried them in the soft mud. "Don't want anything to do with 'er," she explained in the same solemn whisper. "Don't want to see her or to think about it. I just want to pretend it never happened." And with that, she got up and left.
Christina watched her go, then turned to Elsie. "Elsie?"
A haunting minute of contemplative silence followed Christina's beckoning.
"I suppose you're afraid to go alone?" she asked quietly.
Christina nodded.
"I am too. I know 'twill be a 'orror, it will." But she stood up. "I'll go. Though I don't know why we're wastin' our sympathy on 'er. Lord knows, if anyone deserves—"
"No," Christina said in quiet fortitude. "Don't say it, please don't say it. I don't care what she's done. No one deserves that. Not the most wicked person in the world."
Elsie's soft dark eyes considered this. "You're too good, Christy, too good. You're like a misplaced angel, you are, and sometimes I don't think you belong here on earth with us. Come on." She stopped to pick from the basket of fruit. "I don't suppose she'll be hungry, but just in case."
They made their way to Carolyn's small hut and knocked softly on the door. There at first was no answer, though they heard a shuffling from inside. They knocked again, louder. "It's us—Christina and Elsie. Can we come in?"
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