Other Islands: Book Three of the Hook & Jill Saga

by Andrea Jones

  Handing Lightly his quiver, Rowan said, “Let us go to the mountaintop to survey the situation in morning light.”

  Lightly yawned and slung the quiver over his bare shoulder. “The bonfire in the Clearing burned long and hot these last couple of nights. And as I predicted, nothing occurred in all that time to alarm the council. And no sign of Pan, either. I’m glad we stayed here to sleep. No children or dogs to disturb us too early.”

  Rowan laid a hand on Lightly’s arm, cautioning, “I too find delight in our privacy. But remember the warning of the Old One. We must use discretion. We cannot retire here as often as we might wish.”

  “The People won’t close their eyes forever, Rowan. One day, when neither of us takes a wife, they’ll understand.”

  “When that happens, my mother and your brothers will welcome us to the Clearing. Until then, we are trusted with responsibilities. We will serve the People.”

  “On that day, we may truly learn which of our worlds are civilized.” Lightly flashed a grin. “But don’t forget our other option. We could run away to London and erect a tepee in the park.”

  “Where the Golden Boy will find us.”

  “He’d think we were Lost Boys, and he’d bring us right back to the Neverland. I guess we can’t escape our fate, after all. For us, there is no other island!”

  Bursting into laughter, the lovers fell together in a tumble of mirth. Only after indulging their humor did they rise again, dusting off their divergent skins of brown and white, to snatch up their bows, quivers, and tomahawks, and they leapt into the air toward their lookout perch on the high, breezy summit of the Indian mountain.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Speaking in their amusing accents, the Frenchmen enchanted the Women of the Clearing. The ladies discovered that the newest pirates often abandoned language to communicate, quite fluently, with their hands. As promised, Lily talked with Mrs. Hanover, too, whom she found self-conscious and shy. Mrs. Hanover, like her shipmates, relied on gestures to express herself, as if she were not unable, but afraid to use her voice. Mr. Yulunga hovered over them all like a huge disciplinary hen, keeping the men respectful and the girl civil. And for all her machinations, the women recognized that Mrs. Hanover, even laden with her ponderous name, was little more than a girl. As implausible as Yulunga’s warnings sounded, they arrived on top of Smee’s, and the women prepared themselves.

  Still, Lily’s open heart went out to the creature, so young and so alone in her world of primitive men. But Lily was not fool enough to allow youth to hoodwink her sense of character. She studied the girl. Mrs. Hanover was in the early stage of her pregnancy, but her roving eye, her restless hands, indicated that she might be difficult to keep occupied during the final term before birthing. Nor did Lily miss the concern on Lelaneh’s face as she gleaned what sparse information she could, evaluating the state of the baby. Something in Mrs. Hanover’s reticence seemed to speak to Lelaneh. Clearly, as an herbalist, she sensed the birthing would be difficult. But, in the end, Lily, her companions, and their providers agreed to accept charge of the little mother when her time came, for Yulunga’s sake.

  After an hour of conversation and a measure of sweet ale, Yulunga ushered Mrs. Hanover and the new men away, having arranged for their return the following evening. The most courteous sailor, Pierre-Jean, held the shrubbery aside for Mrs. Hanover, bowing as she passed. Lily watched as Mrs. Hanover slid him a secret look. She noted, too, that Mrs. Hanover did not acknowledge his gesture, nor did he appear to take offense. Then the party jingled off into the woods, frightening the finches and causing a squirrel to claw its way up a tree, chattering in indignation. Lily smiled to hear Yulunga chastise his sailors for their carelessness. In their pleasure at socializing with females, they had plainly forgotten their awe of the Island. The scream of a panther in the distance quickly reminded them, for, from then on, Lily heard no more clamor from the pirates. The restless fauna quieted.

  The steady, rhythmic rasp of sawing emanated from the growing structure in the corner. It had ceased at the sound of the panther, and one of the twins stepped out for a look around with his shining new ax in hand. Assured of the women’s safety, he returned to his workshop and the noise of saws resumed, until, shortly afterward, the parrot squawked again.

  Captain Cecco emerged from the forest bearing a brace of pistols and his famous knife in his belt, looking more commanding, more dashing than ever— but with an air of melancholy he’d never before exhibited. Lelaneh and Red Fawn ran to greet him with enthusiasm, but Lily read his mood. She approached with more reserve and, under the vigilant eyes of the Men, soon escorted him to a private place, the patch of garden behind the house. Here he sat on a stump, and with a cool drink in his hand, relaxed enough to breathe the zesty scent of Lelaneh’s herbs, and to confide in Lily.

  Lily’s eyes softened as she listened, standing behind her visitor and looking down on him. When he subsided to silence, she said, “I find you much changed, Captain. I speak not only of the marks upon your back.” Cecco had allowed her to slide his leather vest away and, slowly, her capable, comforting fingers massaged his shoulders. She had winced when his scars were revealed. He bore ugly gashes, inflicted months ago by the commodore’s cat-o’-nine-tails, in the hands of Smee. Cecco was just a common sailor then, and the Roger about to embark on the recent voyage that ended in his promotion. Cecco was punished for allowing himself to be distracted, watching Jill when he should have guarded Hook against the crocodile’s attack. Lily had seen such blemishes before, but not so many, and never so deep. Yet she understood. In the odd fashion of fate, the barbarity unleashed upon Cecco measured Smee’s feeling for Hook.

  As Cecco turned his head, his bound-back hair shifted to reveal more damage, and the medallions on his headdress chimed. He granted her the ghost of his gypsy smile. “My punishment was not so unbearable, when I considered that it came of love for my lady.” His smile faded. “But perhaps you are unaware of the impact your Mr. Smee can deliver.”

  “I confess it. He is a strong man, but the gentlest of lovers.” She cajoled him, “Unlike you, when you are inspired.” She leaned down to lay a kiss upon his ear, just above a sizable loop of earring. “I cannot but believe that you need some inspiration now.”

  “Inspiration I have in full. Signora Cecco is the perfect woman. Not only is she beautiful; she is the bravest, the most loyal. I cannot fault her…and I cannot hold her.”

  “Truly, your patience is tried.”

  “And let there be honesty between us, Lily. Your patience, also, is tried.” The wound of Cecco’s resentment broke open. His words bled with passion. “While I am forbidden to touch my wife, your Mr. Smee has the commodore’s permission.”

  Lily’s voice lost pliability. “The commodore’s permission is irrelevant. It is the lady who makes the choice.”

  Cecco reached across his chest to capture her wrist as she rubbed his shoulders. He turned to face her, and his brown eyes smoldered. “I warned her once. Now you may warn your Mr. Smee. I can barely endure the commodore’s claim on her. Any other man who seeks to have her, I vow to kill.”

  Lily cast a haughty glance at the grip on her wrist. Her eyes rose to challenge him. “It is well, perhaps, that ‘my’ Mr. Smee does not make similar threats.”

  Cecco stared at her, then, shaking off his temper, he loosened his grip. “I am sorry, Lily. My frustration makes me less than chivalrous.” Tenderly, he lifted her wrist again and kissed its circumference. “I am grateful for your company.”

  “I accept your apology. Not everyone owns a heart that can stretch as far as mine. Nor as far as your lady’s.” Cecco’s face darkened again, and she slid her wrist from his hand. “But Captain. I will not tolerate such threats at the home of Smee’s daughter. And if you must quarrel with him, I expect you to do so honorably, with equal advantage on each side.”

  “You, too, are a courageous woman. How do you and the others fare here, in exile?”

  “Thanks to the commodor
e’s kindness, we are safe and content. Our Men love and provide for us, our children thrive. We cannot ask for more.”

  “You miss living among your tribe?”

  “As deeply as you miss your own, my gypsy captain.”

  “Aye.” Heaving a sigh, Cecco gazed far into the woods. “I may never set eyes on my tribe again. We are a band of wanderers. I would not know even how to seek them now. In any case, the bounty on my head prevents me from returning to my homeland.”

  “Your mother is blessed with many sons, and by now, no doubt, grandsons. I am sure she is well cared for, even though she must grieve for you.”

  “Lily, I believed, when I married, that I would at last have a family again. A wife, many bambini.” He shrugged his mighty shoulders. “You laugh, and well you might, to imagine a pack of gypsies aboard a pirate vessel. Yet this was la prima speranza— the fondest hope of my heart. When I lost my Jill, I lost also this beautiful dream.”

  “This, then, is the change I have found in you. Once you were cheerful, reconciled to your loss. Now you have lost not one family, but two. It must be difficult to bear.”

  Cecco didn’t answer. The sorrow in his eyes spoke for him. Lily knelt at his boots to take his hands between her own.

  “You now walk like a man possessed. The spirit of the volcano dwells within you. Even I have felt it scorch me today. Please, Captain, for your own sake, and for the sake of my daughter, do not allow yourself to vent this anger upon one who cannot help feeling as you feel.”

  With an ironic smile, Cecco snorted. “Your Mr. Smee. The commodore’s Smee.” The smile vanished. “Jill’s Smee.”

  Lily squeezed his fingers. “It is well that you are here now, on the Island. You must spend time with us. And with your fellows. Comradeship, affection, will be balm for your injured spirit. Red Fawn, especially, has asked after you.”

  “I thank you, Lily. And I thank Red Fawn. But I must model myself after my commodore. Even as a captain, he never mingled with the men. Not until…Jill.”

  “The commodore is a different man entirely. His solitude defined him. You are a man to whom companionship gives life its meaning. Family, friends…”

  “And wife. No, Lily, I will not insult my lady by flaunting my favors before my men.”

  Cecco found himself being pulled to rise. Once on his feet, he faced Lily. She exerted a gentle pressure, drawing him closer. Her curves were pleasing in his arms, her lips warm and welcoming. Cecco pressed against her softness, a familiar feeling stirring his loins, the stimulation this engaging woman had never failed to rouse in him. His golden bracelets tinkled as he moved to appreciate her figure.

  Lily closed her eyes and loosed a sigh. “Your men are not among us now, Captain. Come. Come with me.” She tugged him toward the house.

  But Cecco’s body went rigid. His eyes opened fully, his face, so mellow a moment ago, hardened, and he whipped his arms from Lily to seize his knife. In a flash of silver, it was poised in his fist. He glared at the path to the stream.

  Lily spun just in time to see a blaze of French blue dive into the brush. “Oh! It must be he! Our bandit.”

  Cecco was striding toward the wood, swatting branches from his path. “Ragazzo! Boy!” he bellowed, “You do not skulk around this place. Go back to your hole in the ground!” Having lost sight of the intruder, he stopped to scan the forest. Once he was sure that the spy had fled, he returned to Lily. “You have seen him before?”

  “No. We saw only his tracks, and afterward we missed things he has taken.”

  “I see that he has robbed one of my men. Now I know how Flambard lost his jacket. I thought he had gambled it away.”

  “The boy steals only food and clothing. I think he must be hungry, cold, and frightened.”

  “That is like you, Lily, to have sympathy for one who would steal from you.” With a grim look, Cecco thought of Red-Handed Jill’s plunder of the heart of Lily’s Smee. “But you must beware of this thief, if he is a member of Pan’s pack.”

  “His footprints are always alone. And I daresay he would have flown away from you just now, if he could. All the Golden Boy’s flock do so. And they steal only weapons. A few days ago, one of the braves from the village lost a number of arrowheads to them.”

  “We will identify your bandit soon enough. The commodore intends to smoke him out. But…I can’t help feeling he seemed familiar.”

  “You recognize him?”

  “I cannot be sure. I caught only a glimpse, and mainly his backside. Most likely he is a Lost Boy.”

  Lily’s voice changed, subtly. “Lost, indeed.” Laying her hand on Cecco’s arm, she crooned, “Now let us see if we can find where you belong.”

  Cecco covered her hand. “Thank you, Lily. I know where I belong. I have only to be patient. I have reason to believe…one day…”

  “One day. In the meantime, be good to yourself. Your Jill wants you to take care.”

  For the first time, his eyes brightened. “You have heard her speak of me?”

  “Every woman speaks of you. But yes. She confided to me this morning what you already know. She loves you. I would not be in her position for all the gold in your treasure chests. To choose between two warriors, both handsome, both skilled and powerful. But, as you say, the lady’s loyalty decides. Her first love and allegiance are for the Black Chief.”

  “I could wish, Lily, that the Black Chief’s heart might stretch like your own.”

  “That he might share her?” Lily smiled. “Commodore Hook is, after all, a generous man. You have said so yourself. He might have killed you; instead he rewarded you.”

  “As he admits, a ship is not an even exchange for a woman. Not— not our woman.”

  Lily paused. Her gaze lingered, searching deep within his eyes. “If he loves her, Captain, he will grant to her the deepest wish of her heart.”

  Cecco’s eyebrows drew together as he considered.

  “Can your love do the same for her, my dear?”

  “Lily…”

  Placing two fingers on his lips, she shook her head. “Hush, my fine gypsy captain. Remember, you are on the Island now. Magic dwells here. Mysteries of a nature that can occur no other place.”

  Unable to speak, Captain Cecco, like his Frenchmen, communicated with his hands. He took Lily’s face in his fingers. He laid a thoughtful kiss upon her lips. Then he took up his vest and his weapons, saluted her, and, all alone, walked into the woods.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  In the darkened tepee of the warrior White Bear, Raven watched her hands. They lay clasped on her lap, her knuckles white. She felt the grip of White Bear’s hard, gray eyes. His voice was harsh.

  “I have spoken with Lean Wolf Silent Hunter, to thank him for his gift. But I refused his offer.”

  “Yes, Brother.”

  “He holds affection for you. But I speak no slander, only truth, when I say that his affections have no bounds.”

  “I am grateful for your farsightedness.”

  White Bear hadn’t known what reaction to expect. Always, his sister-in-law puzzled him. “In this matter you show good judgment. You were right to withhold an answer. Now Lean Wolf can hold no resentment toward you.”

  “I hope no ill feeling has arisen between you and your friend.”

  “None that need concern you.” White Bear became graver. “But I have concerns. Had you kept your place, Lean Wolf would have found no opportunity to press you.”

  “This I concede, Brother.” Facing straight ahead, Raven turned only her eyes to look at him. The claws on his necklace loomed lustrous in the half-light. “If I had been forewarned of his offer, I would have been more circumspect.”

  White Bear drew himself up. “You question my judgment, when it is shown to be well-founded.”

  “I am not a child to be shielded, to be given rules to obey. Give me truth, and I am armed.”

  “My protection serves you. If you stray beyond it, I cannot pledge your well-being. Nor can I uphold my honor.”


  Raven wondered at his utterance, and she looked directly upon him. “Have I damaged your honor?”

  White Bear held silence, considering. He must make this woman of headstrong ways see the effect of her actions. Everything of value to White Bear rode on her submission. She must be made to comply. At last he spoke, his tone more solemn than before. “You know the answer better than I. Reflect on Lean Wolf’s words.”

  Searching White Bear’s inflexible face, Raven read his meaning. As she recounted what she had heard, she tried to deny its wider implication. “He contradicted himself. He said that you are foolish; that you are cunning.”

  “It is thus that the People perceive me, where my wife’s sister is concerned.”

  “But he also observed that you honor tradition. Surely, this is also perceived.”

  “That is the heart of the difficulty, Raven. I honor tradition. You disdain it.”

  “I—”

  “If the People see it, so also do the council. The elders will not long respect a man who cannot come to terms with a woman.”

  Her voice diminished as she asked, “What terms?”

  “What terms did Lean Wolf suggest to you?”

  Her color deepening, Raven turned her face away.

  “I have known Lean Wolf since we were boys. He is a hunter, Raven. The thrill of pursuit runs hot within him. He will not lose the trail of his quarry. Now that you have eluded him, he will employ every skill he knows to run you to ground.” White Bear’s scar-marked chest rose as he drew a deep breath. “The challenge you present has only made him hungrier. If I hold firm in my rejection, I foresee that Lean Wolf will not scruple even to importune the council.”

  As the dimensions of her dilemma became apparent, Raven’s forehead creased. White Bear’s message was clear. His power to protect his sister-in-law was great; it was not limitless. She remembered the force of Lean Wolf’s embrace, the strength of his arms, so celebrated among the People. She now understood how inescapable was the snare of Silent Hunter. With effort, she kept her voice from quivering.