Save the Last Dance

by Fiona Harper

  Thankfully, although the charge in the air increased, those rumbles remained distant, for now at least.

  When they finally reached the camp the pace became even more frantic as Tim, Dave, Barry and Simon ran around gathering up kit. He and Allegra, meanwhile, started hauling their stack of firewood towards the shelter. They shoved as much as they could underneath the raised sleeping platform to keep it dry. The crew helped them until the boat turned up and then they waved a hasty goodbye and disappeared round the headland in their tiny white boat.

  Just in time, it seemed, because a few minutes later it began to rain.

  Allegra didn’t need to be told to jump into the shelter. Neither did he.

  But once inside he encountered a bit of a problem.

  While they’d been preparing for the rain, he’d been fine. He’d kept himself busy, had fallen back on his training. Training that was the culmination of generations of experience, passed down from ancestor to ancestor. Finn was proud to be a modern-day keeper of this diminishing knowledge. It made him feel not just connected to nature but connected to the past, connected to humanity.

  But now, as the rain began to fall, he had nothing left to do but sit it out. No job to distract him. And when it came to coping with what he was starting to feel for the woman he was sharing a tiny bamboo and palm leaf shelter with, he had no knowledge base, no ancient wisdom to fall back on. In this situation he was totally on his own.

  Help.

  Uncharted territory. Not something he was normally afraid of. But there was always a first time for everything.

  The wind picked up, ruffling the frilly green thatching on the shelter roof. Another rumble. Longer this time. Closer.

  He and Allegra stopped looking out at the grey sky and the dirty blue sea and looked at each other instead.

  There was connection. Looking back at him with bright blue eyes.

  Not connection to ancient wisdom, or long-dead people. No, connection to a living, breathing person, who was mere inches away from him.

  He always told his survival students that if they were ever stuck in a jungle they shouldn’t be tempted to stay any longer than necessary. Get out, he told them. And get out fast. It was what he wanted to do right now.

  Run, a voice in his head was telling him. Run as fast as you can. Don’t stop. Don’t even look back. This is not a place to get entangled or put down roots. It’s dangerous terrain, remember? That was why he’d mentally fenced it off and declared it ‘out of bounds’ years ago.

  Seemed as though he was lost, though. Or stuck in quicksand. Because he couldn’t even look away, let alone move his legs.

  He held his breath, waiting for a lightning bolt that was long overdue, yet still refused to come.

  The storm seemed to have stolen their voices. Neither of them had uttered a word to each other since the crew had left. But words weren’t really needed. They would only say what they were supposed to say, skirt around the thing staring them both in the face. The communication going on between them now was much more honest.

  She was just as lost as he was. Just as stuck. He saw it in her eyes. Saw the questions flit across them, saw the answers he’d given, without realising, register and hit home.

  And suddenly he didn’t want to run any more. If he was lost, he didn’t want to be found. He wanted to turn around, peer inside those forbidden boundaries and see what was inside.

  That was when it happened—when the searing flash of light split the sky and made the air tremble. In that second, when his eyes were dancing with colour and the audible release of power was still echoing in his ears, Finn took his first step.

  They were kneeling opposite each other and, slowly, he leaned forward and reached for her with one hand. He didn’t drag her to him instantly, but traced her jaw with his thumb, her long neck with his fingers. Warmth upon warmth. Skin upon skin. Her pulse rapid beneath his palm.

  No mad skydive into the unknown this time for Finn McLeod. He was taking his time, feeling his way. Savouring every sensation.

  Allegra hadn’t blinked since he’d touched her, but now her lids slid closed and her head tipped back.

  Finn found the soft skin between collarbone and chin with his lips, not really sure how he’d moved closer. He didn’t care, didn’t stop to analyse how or why. He was too lost in tasting her, exploring her, working ever so slowly upwards, feeling her melt against him further with each kiss.

  She grabbed onto him for support, sinking her long fingers into his unruly hair, holding him prisoner, making it impossible for him to pull away. But he didn’t feel trapped. It only increased the heat building inside of him.

  And when his mouth neared the end of its upward climb and crested the curve of her jaw they both paused. His hands were either side of her head, hers on his neck and shoulder. For a few seconds they hovered there, eyes closed, breathing shallow and ragged, lips only millimetres apart.

  Finn had always wondered if a daring leap or a foolish stunt would eventually be his undoing. How ironic that, in the end, it turned out to be the tiniest of movements, the sweetest and softest of kisses that sealed his fate.

  Every cell in Allegra’s body seemed to be singing, bursting with life and joy.

  It was better than she’d imagined. Way better than the tightly wrapped girlish fantasies: big on longing, a little fuzzy on detail. Finn brought that wildness, that dizzying sense of rawness to his kisses.

  Oh, it had started off soft and light, but it hadn’t stayed that way for long. Quickly, the overwhelming force between them had dragged them down and pulled them under. So completely lost in the moment was she that she couldn’t even form a coherent thought. She couldn’t remember where his lips had been last or guess where his fingers might touch next. Finally, she’d reached that place where instinct reigned and, boy, was there spark to go with it.

  She shivered, and she wasn’t sure if it was in response to the drop in air temperature caused by the storm or a reaction to Finn’s lips on hers, his tongue gently sending her over the edge. Finn felt her body shudder, too, and his arms came round her to steady her, then slowly, slowly he pulled away.

  Even kneeling he was so much taller than her and she tipped her head to look up at him as he smoothed her hair out of her face and looked deep into her eyes.

  She couldn’t help it—she smiled. Beamed at him.

  Finn smiled back, but it wasn’t his usual ready-for-anything grin, and Allegra knew she was seeing that part of him he rarely revealed to others. She saw it all—the little boy who’d been uprooted so many times, yet had still worked out a way to survive, the teenager who had substituted the glory of nature and adrenalin rushes for more tricky human relationships. And she loved everything she saw. It only bound her to him more deeply.

  Tread gently. Softly.

  Something told her in this, despite her own inexperience, she would need to be his guide, his teacher. If he’d let her.

  She reached up and touched her lips to his. Told him so without words.

  He responded by pulling her against him, holding her there with a fierce protectiveness. If only, she thought. If only he’d always want to keep me like this, close to him, safe by his side. She felt she could do anything, conquer every challenge if he were beside her.

  Lightning flashed again, followed a few seconds later by growling thunder. Loud still, but the storm was passing by quickly. In unison, they glanced outside. A flash of metallic silver in one of the trees opposite made them both pause.

  Oh, no. She’d totally forgotten about the non-native technology hidden in the foliage. Had it been dark enough for the night vision camera to capture what had just been going on? Euphoria gave way to panic.

  She looked at Finn and found him eyeing the camera suspiciously, too.

  She shivered. They’d be
en away from the camp for quite some time this afternoon and the fire had just been glowing embers when they’d got back. No chance of starting one in this downpour. Not until the rain stopped and they could use the wood that they’d stacked under their shelter.

  Another shiver rattled her shoulders.

  Finn released her and sat down, then opened his arms. She didn’t ask what he was offering, just turned round and scooted back into him, letting his torso warm her back as his arms closed lightly around her. They sat like that, watching the rain, saying nothing.

  Darkness fell. The thunder and lightning rumbled away but the rain continued. Finn shifted, and she knew somehow that was her signal to crawl out of his arms. The damp breeze instantly found the gap between their bodies as she moved away, puckering the skin on her back into gooseflesh.

  Finn changed position. He gently eased himself down onto his side, ready for sleep. But not facing away from her. She accepted his subtle invitation and matched his pose, tucking her much shorter form against his. She could feel his breath at the back of her ear as his warm arm came around her to steady them both.

  He didn’t stroke. He didn’t caress. He didn’t do anything he shouldn’t have. Just kept her warm.

  Don’t hope for too much, remember? Only mermaids hope. And when that hope dies they dissolve into nothing, like the foam on the sea.

  She tried to be sensible, tried to tell herself not to hope, but it wasn’t easy with Finn wrapped around her, the thump of his heart marking her back.

  Finn woke to find himself still curled around Allegra. From the grey tinge to the sky, he could tell it was just before dawn. The rain had finally stopped.

  He’d never slept like this with Nat. Somebody’s knees or elbows had inevitably got in someone else’s way, and one or both of them would have ended up moving apart, needing their own space.

  He should move. He needed to start a fire. Neither of them had eaten the evening before, but it seemed a crime to pull away. They fitted. Too well, maybe.

  He would move in a minute. He would.

  This was his last chance to be alone with her, his last chance to consider exploring the uncharted areas of his soul that he hadn’t realised had existed until a tiny ballerina had thrown herself out of a helicopter at him and knocked them both to the ground.

  Had that really been less than seven days ago? Was there really little more than twenty-four hours left before the speedboat arrived one last time and whisked them away?

  Yes.

  That meant he had precious little time to daydream and think about himself. He would get Allegra breakfast, because she would need all the strength she could get if she was going to make it through her final day on the island. Her final night, too.

  Reluctantly, he lifted the arm that had been holding her against him, shuffled backwards a little and waited. She frowned in her sleep, but didn’t wake. Finn sat up and stared at her. Marvelled at how something that seemed so fragile and delicate could be so strong.

  And he missed her as he edged away and began to rebuild their fire.

  Missed her more than he wanted to, and more than he should have. Maybe because, although Allegra didn’t know this yet, they had just shared their last night together on the island.

  Finn looked up from where he was crouching over the fire and handed her a scorched bit of fish. Allegra took it gratefully. Even though they’d had breakfast, no dinner the night before meant her stomach still felt as if it was rubbing against her backbone. Lunch was very, very welcome.

  She tried to catch Finn’s eye before he returned his attention to the fire, but he didn’t even make eye contact.

  She pulled the blackened, crunchy skin off the bit of fish and sank her teeth into the succulent white flesh, eyes still on him.

  The crew had been unpacking when she’d woken alone in the shelter that morning. She’d had no opportunity to be on her own with Finn, let alone talk to him since then. The cameras had started rolling and he’d hardly even looked at her.

  The fish, which she’d really been looking forward to, suddenly was as appealing as wet cardboard. She wanted to spit it out on the sand.

  He was being like this because of the cameras, right? Merely being discreet. She hoped desperately that was the case. The alternative was that she’d just become the latest addition to his list of falling-off-a-cliff mistakes and that he was too embarrassed to look at her.

  She swallowed the lump of fish with difficulty and took another bite. Tasteless.

  But then Finn turned to offer her some more and this time something flashed between them, as hot and bright and pure as the lightning from the night before. A look full of meaning. A look that made Allegra’s stomach muscles unclench and her pulse race.

  It was for the cameras.

  And, now she wasn’t panicking about it, she could see that being discreet made sense. After all, the rest of the world still believed he was a soon-to-be married man. But even if that hadn’t been the case, she could imagine that Finn would have veered away from public displays of affection, however passionate he might be in private. She stepped closer to the fire, grateful she could use it to excuse the bright flush of her cheeks.

  Time to play Finn’s game and play it well. Nothing was going on between them. Nothing at all.

  She glanced over at Barry, the second cameraman. ‘Where’s Dave today?’ she asked when she’d finished her mouthful, even though she knew she was supposed to ignore them as much as possible. She’d kind of got used to Dave’s burly, if slightly grouchy, presence.

  Barry shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t balancing a camera. ‘Got something else to do,’ he mumbled.

  Chatty, Allegra thought. She hesitated a second before she spoke to Finn, but she decided he was the one person she was supposed to interact with on a regular basis, so it wouldn’t look out of place if she asked him a question. All she had to do was keep the longing out of her eyes. Surely, she could manage that for a few seconds?

  She turned to him, schooling her facial muscles into a neutral state. ‘So what hoops are you going to make me jump through today, Fearless Finn?’

  Was it just her imagination or did the entire crew pause for a split second?

  Finn messed around poking the fire with a stick for a few seconds. When he lifted his head to look at her there was something different about his eyes. It was as if a door had been shut and she couldn’t see all the way into them any more. Just more acting, right? He was getting rather good at it.

  ‘If we really were stranded on this island,’ he said, ‘we’d want to find a way to get off it.’

  She nodded, ever the good student.

  ‘Making a signal fire to alert passing ships to our presence would be one of our aims,’ he added.

  Fire? Yippee. Her favourite game.

  ‘On the beach here?’ she asked.

  Finn shook his head. ‘The old ruin on the tip of the island would be a better spot. If that really was a fort or a lookout post of some sort, it would give us a clue that local shipping patterns might bring boats closer to that point.’

  ‘Okay.’

  She didn’t really care what she did today as long as she got to spend every minute of it with him. She’d even build a giant fire and dance around it for him if he wanted her to.

  ‘Right,’ Finn said, and stood up. ‘We’d better start packing up our stuff.’

  ‘Packing?’

  Finn walked over to the shelter and started stuffing things into his backpack, which had been tucked just inside the entrance. ‘We would have only minutes to light the fire if we saw a ship,’ he said as he picked his machete up and slipped it into the holder on his leg. ‘There’s no point being over an hour’s walk away. The best place to set up camp tonight is in the ruins.’

  Allegra fol
lowed him, smiling and shaking her head. Finn stopped what he was doing and smiled back at her. ‘What?’

  They both had their backs to the crew, who weren’t really paying them any attention. It was the closest they’d had to privacy all day.

  ‘I can’t believe I’m going to miss this old shelter,’ she said quietly, giving one of the upright poles an affectionate pat.

  Finn didn’t say anything, he just carried on packing. But as he searched the leafy jungle mattress for forgotten essentials, he glanced around and caught her eye and gave her another one of those scorching looks.

  Me, too, his eyes said. And not just that.

  They said it so beautifully that she wanted to stop him, place a palm on either side of his face and kiss her agreement.

  She didn’t, of course. She picked up her long-sleeved shirt and put it on. Once her boots were laced up, that was her ready. They finished their packing silently, the familiar thrumming feeling joining them, no matter where they moved around camp, so they were always aware of one another. They didn’t have much to pack, really, and it was only ten minutes before they were heading off towards the old ruins.

  On the way there Finn became unusually obsessed with navigational techniques. ‘We’re heading north. Remember that,’ he kept saying, and then he’d repeat once again all the ways a lost adventurer could keep on track if they weren’t in possession of a compass.

  Allegra was only half listening. She had more important work to do. Most of the time she wasn’t even paying attention to what direction she was going. She was, however, definitely paying a lot of attention to Finn—saving up little details for the scrapbook of memories from her magical week on a desert island with the most amazing man she’d ever met.

  Silly things. Little things.

  The way he moved: always direct, always efficient, never dithering or meandering, whether he was striding through the forest or reaching for his knife.

  The angle of his jaw and cheekbone as he turned to point something out to her, which he did countless times each day. She wanted a mental snapshot of that, for sure.