by Bobbi Smith
"He was heavily bandaged then and I could not see all of his face," the girl explained, adding, "Perhaps if I did not love Konga so much, I would take this one to my heart."
Her mother nodded, her agreement complete.
Espri had tried to maintain some distance between herself and Mitch on the way to the village, but as they started up the narrow path that led to Luatu's isolated homesite, she was forced to walk closer to him. She found his proximity most distracting. Every nerve in her body seemed to be aware of his nearness, and she found herself growing more and more tense.
What does this uneasiness mean? she wondered. She had never felt this way about a man before, but she had never made love to a man before, either. She had talked herself into believing that what had happened with Mitch had been nothing out of the ordinary, and she thought, with a tinge of bitterness, that it certainly had been that way for him. He had given no indication that there was anything different between them. He'd been cool and polite, and, if anything, he seemed quite pleased to be moving to the village.
Puzzled by her feelings, Espri was glad when they reached the large clearing at the top of the incline; there she could move away from him. "This is my grandfather's home." She gestured toward a large, spacious hut and two smaller open-sided structures that served for cooking and dining.
Chief Luatu had watched their approach, and he was overjoyed to see them. He embraced both Espri and Jacques with much affection before turning to Mitch.
"It is as I told your father"—he nodded his imperial approval of Mitch's good health—"you have saved him."
"You give me too much credit, Grandfather," Espri demurred.
"Nonsense." His eyes were warm as he looked upon her. "You are as gifted at healing as your mother was, and this man is proof." Luatu was obviously proud of her accomplishments. He turned to Mitch. "Ka told me of his visit with you yesterday. I am glad that you are well."
"Thank you, sir."
"My name is Luatu as yours is Mitch. Come, sit down, and we will talk and eat before the afternoon heat grows too oppressive," he invited.
"Thank you."
Luatu led them to an open-sided dining hut, where they all reclined in comfort as the serving girls brought refreshments.
Being a man who prided himself on being perceptive, Luatu sensed a depth of feeling between Mitch and Espri, but since they were cool and distant to each other, he wasn't sure whether their feelings were amorous or antagonistic.
"So." Luatu faced Mitch, and wanting to know more about him, he asked, "Tell me of your home."
"I'm from San Francisco."
"You have family there?" the older man inquired as he offered Mitch a cup of coconut milk.
"Only Jon, my younger brother," Mitch replied as he took the proffered drink. "My parents died some years ago."
"Have you always been a sailor?" Luatu questioned, sensing that there was more to this man.
Mitch gave a short, joyless laugh. "No. My life at sea was not of my choosing."
"I don't understand."
The chief frowned, and Espri could not disguise her sudden interest in Mitch's reply.
"I wasn't aboard the Seastorm of my own will," he told them, his tone cutting. "I was shanghaied."
"Shanghaied?" Espri had never heard the word before.
"Captains who don't have a full crew when they are ready to leave port buy the men they need," Jacques offered as an explanation.
"Buy them?" She was aghast as she met Mitch's gaze.
"Ships can't sail without enough men, so, for a price, they buy men from crimps," Mitch explained.
"Crimps?"
Mitch nodded. "Crimps drug or ambush any able-bodied men they can find and then deliver them to ships' captains for a price."
"You were sold to a ship's captain? How terrible!"
"It was." Mitch looked grim. "Many a man has disappeared that way, never to be heard from again. Now I understand why."
"And your brother?"
"I'm sure Jon must think I'm dead," he responded bleakly.
Jacques regarded Mitch with growing respect now that he knew he was not a common sailor. "Then he will be all the more excited when you return," he said.
Mitch managed a smile. "It will be good to get home. I am looking forward to it."
"When I learned of your rescue, and Tommy's, I sent word out to the other islands to see if there had been any other survivors," Luatu told him.
"Have you heard anything?"
"My messengers will not return for another week or so," the chief answered. "I also had them pass the word that if any ship comes near the shore, it is to be signaled to alert the captain of your plight."
"Thank you, Chief Luatu." Mitch was pleased by the old man's efficiency. "When Espri told me where Malika was located, I wondered if any trading ships put in here."
"It does not happen often," the old man explained. "But we will be prepared, just in case." Changing the subject then, he went on. "Kohea mentioned, when I spoke with him earlier today, that you want to stay here in the village with your friend O'Ryan."
"Yes. It seems the best solution."
Luatu nodded. "There is an old deserted hut near the end of the beach. It is in some need of repairs, but it should serve you well while you are with us. You could share it with your friend. Would you like to take a look at it?"
"Yes, I would," Mitch agreed. "Thank you."
"Espri. Do you know the place?"
"Yes, Grandfather."
"Then take Mitch there and see if it will meet his needs." The old man commanded with the authority of one used to having his directives obeyed.
"Yes, Grandfather." Espri knew she could not refuse, but she did not find the thought of spending time alone with Mitch appealing. "Are you ready?" she asked Mitch quickly, anxious to get it over with.
"If you are," he agreed.
Luatu watched them go and he was most pleased with himself. They looked good together, Espri and Mitch, and though the white man had expressed a desire to go home, maybe when that time came he would change his mind.
Low, rolling waves raced up the wide expanse of beach as Espri escorted Mitch to the abandoned dwelling. They hadn't spoken since they'd left Luatu's, and she felt uncomfortable for her thoughts kept straying to the previous night and how arousing his embrace had been.
Mitch, too, was feeling the strain of her nearness. Every time he glanced at her, now that they were by themselves, he was reminded of the passion they had shared and of how she had felt in his arms. God, she is lovely, he thought, gritting his teeth against the desire that threatened to overwhelm him and cursing himself for his vulnerability to her.
She is just another woman, Mitch kept telling himself; but his reasoning had little effect on his craving for her. Despite his convictions, he wanted her. The sound of her voice . . . the curve of her hips . . . the swell of her breasts . . . he found every aspect of her enticing. Indeed, he could hardly keep his hands off her. Scowling blackly, he stared out to sea, searching for something else to concentrate on, something that would take his mind off of Espri.
"There is the hut." The cool tone of her voice cut through his brooding thoughts, and he looked up to see a ramshackle dwelling nestled at the edge of the forest. "No one's lived here for several months, but I don't think you'll have too much trouble putting things back in order," she declared as she led the way into the small structure.
Rays of softly filtered sunbeams drifted through the gaps in the neglected thatched roof, bathing the interior of the hut in swatches of golden light. It was hot and humid inside, and the musty smell of disuse permeated the air.
Mitch's gaze followed Espri as she moved about, and a sense of unexpected intimacy assaulted them when she looked up and caught him watching her. Espri flushed as she noted the craving in Mitch's eyes, and she couldn't prevent the shiver of desire that shook her at the remembrance of his touch, his kiss. How handsome he was! So tall and virile.
"Well? Do you like
it?" she asked hurriedly, trying to end the tense moment.
"Very much," Mitch growled, the double meaning in his answer obvious.
"Good," Espri responded briskly, eager to get away from him. "Then I'll go on back and—"
"Espri." Her name was a caress. "We need to talk."
"There is really nothing to say," she replied almost primly.
"But I think there is." He walked slowly toward her, his gaze holding hers.
"I can't imagine what. Everything was said last night and—"
The gentle touch of his hand on her cheek stopped her rash flow of words, and when she lifted her eyes to his, they were shining with desire.
"I don't want you, Mitch," she stated, not believing the words even as she spoke them.
"I know." His voice was low and harsh as he cupped her chin and lifted her face so their lips could meet in a sweet-soft exchange. He felt her tremble as his mouth moved slowly over hers in a nonthreatening exploration, and the passion he'd controlled with such fierceness surged to life. He wanted to deny that he wanted her, but his need swept him on.
Now that he had her in his arms, there was no stopping. She fanned the sparks of his desire into an all-consuming conflagration. Governed only by his senses, Mitch kissed her hungrily as his hands stripped away the barrier of her sarong, baring her tender flesh to his arousing touch.
Espri had not meant to surrender to him. She had fought the attraction between them all morning. But here, alone in the shadowed stillness of the abandoned hut with him, she could no longer resist the temptation to join their bodies. Though she might hate Mitch for the cruel things he'd said to her, she couldn't deny that she wanted him, for her senses seemed to have a life of their own when he was near.
Their mouths touched and blended, and their bodies strained together, driven by a hunger that was as old as time. They abandoned themselves to the moment, their caresses frenziedly seeking completion as they dropped to the floor, wanting only to touch and be touched in the most intimate fashion.
Breeches shed, Mitch moved against Espri, letting her feel his readiness, but refraining from taking her too soon. He wanted her completely aroused and mindlessly eager for him.
Delighting in the exquisite sensations coursing through her as Mitch trailed burning kisses over her throat and bosom, Espri moved restlessly against his hardness, needing that joining that would make them one. His mouth was a searing brand as he tasted of her glorious breasts, teasing, in turn, each taut peak with hot caresses until Espri cried out in her need of him.
Rising above her, his weight braced on his arms, Mitch fit himself to her sweetness, seeking the center of her love as he gazed down at her passion-flushed features. Then he thrust slowly forward, impaling himself in the heat of her and groaning in agonized ecstasy as her tightness gripped him and held him.
"Mitch . . ."
His name was a sigh, and he kissed her then, passionately; the deep, sensuous thrust of his tongue simulating the slow, steady rhythm of his hips as he began to move within her.
Tana stood transfixed by the sight of Mitch and Espri entwined in love's most intimate embrace. She had caught sight of them as they'd started across the beach and had been following them in the hope of discovering that there was more to their relationship than met the eye. It both surprised and delighted her to find that they were actually lovers. She only regretted that Konga wasn't there to see for himself where Espri's affections lay. Hurrying away from the lovers, Tana headed back toward the village, hoping that Konga had returned early. She had to convince him that Espri was not the woman for him, and she could think of no better way than to show him that Espri had chosen the white man for her first lover.
Sated, Espri lay in Mitch's arms. Their coming together had been explosive and wild, and she was reflecting, almost fearfully, on the power of the emotions he aroused in her. He had only to touch her and she was his. Could this be happening to her? No other had stirred her so. Was this love, the emotion that had brought her father so much joy and so much pain? The realization that it probably was settled uneasily upon her.
Mitch was resting atop Espri, relishing the feel of her silken body. How delectable she was! And how exciting! At no time in his past had a woman driven him to the brink as she did. When he was possessing her, he forgot everything but the driving need to take her, body and soul.
He tightened his arms around her and rolled onto his back, drawing her above him. The long, sleek black curtain of her hair surrounded them as her lips curved in a contented smile.
"You're beautiful," he murmured, his eyes meeting hers in heated understanding.
"You make me feel beautiful," Espri answered, her voice soft and lilting.
His hand tangled easily in her hair, drawing her down for a soft, almost cherishing kiss. Mitch felt in that moment that he could hold her forever, and though that feeling should have troubled him, he felt oddly satisfied. She would be his until it was time to leave Malika.
Last night Mitch had known that they shared something special, and now that she was no longer upset over his mistaken opinion of her, Espri realized it, too. She had come to him willingly; there was no reason why they couldn't continue in this way. She was an island woman, used to open relationships.
He was about to caress her when Tommy's distant call sent him scrambling for their clothes.
"Mitch!" Tommy was outside the hut now.
Mitch was dressed first so he casually stepped outside to greet his friend.
"I see you found the hut with no problem." He smiled. "It's good to see you."
Tommy laughed, knowing Mitch referred to the removal of the bandage. "It's good to see you too," he returned. "Your cut looks better."
"It is."
"Are you still planning on—" Tommy broke off his sentence as Espri emerged from the hut. "Espri, I didn't know you were here."
"I brought Mitch out from the village so he could take a look at the hut my grandfather has offered you."
Tommy's gaze lingered a bit too long on her lush curves; then he became aware of censure in Mitch's regard.
"Well"—he quickly walked ahead of them into the hut—"how is it?"
"I've seen worse in San Francisco." Mitch smiled wryly as he looked around the dwelling again.
"You're right," Tommy agreed, remembering some of the shanties near the waterfront.
"Chief Luatu said it was ours as long as we remain on the island, and since he's already put out the word to signal any ships spotted in the area, hopefully that won't be too long."
His words, though meant to be conversational, sent a shaft of sudden pain through Espri's heart.
"All we have to do is make it livable again," Tommy agreed.
"We might as well find out how to repair the roof and get started," Mitch was saying.
"Kohea has already offered to help," the younger man declared. "He'll be here soon."
"Good."
"I will be going." Espri's tone revealed nothing of the intimacy that had passed between herself and Mitch or the heartache she was now experiencing.
Mitch wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her, but the coolness of her tone held him back. Attributing it to Tommy's presence, he asked easily, "Will I see you again soon?"
"There is the Ceremony of the Sacrifice tonight. If you like, I will take you."
"A sacrifice?" Both Mitch and Tommy were surprised at the prospect. "I thought there were missionaries here."
"The priests come occasionally, but they have so many islands to visit and so little time to spend with the people, the ancient gods are still important here," Espri explained.
"But a sacrifice? Surely not human?" Mitch had heard of the cannibalistic tribes that inhabited some of the islands in the South Pacific.
"No. The missionaries were successful in eliminating the more bloodthirsty practices, but many of the old ways still live on, no matter how hard they try to change them."
"I would like to see the sacrifice," Mitch declared.
"Me, too," Tommy agreed.
"When the drums begin at sunset," Espri explained, "come to the village. I will meet you by the path that leads to my grandfather's home."
"Until then." Mitch's eyes were dark with remembered passion as he watched her start back across the sunswept beach.
Jacques stood hesitantly before Laiti's hut, a half-empty bottle of rum clenched tightly in his hand. He had been drinking since that morning, but for some reason the liquor was having little effect on him.
Anxiously, he looked around. A part of him was eager to see Laiti, yet another part fought against his growing need to be with her. He did not remember the night they'd spent together, but he did not doubt her word. When he'd consumed so much kava, it was not unusual for him to forget everything that occurred. It had happened before, and it would probably happen again.
"Jacques!" The island woman stepped from her hut and smiled delightedly up at him. "I am so glad you've come."
"Hello, Laiti." His answer to her greeting was stilted, reflecting his nervousness.
"Come, sit with me." She took his arm and led him to her dining hut. "It is good to see you. How is Espri? And your white man?"
"Espri is fine, and Mitch is well enough to move into the village with the other white man."
"That is good." She sat down beside him.
Jacques started to take a drink, but Laiti put a hand on his arm.
"If you are going to be with me, then you will not drink." Her usually carefree expression suddenly became serious.
Her words penetrated to the heart of his dilemma. He looked from Laiti to the bottle. Emotions warred within him. With liquor, he could forget everything miserable about his life. Without it? . . . He glanced at her again and stood up.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"Tila is dead, Jacques," Laiti snapped at him. "It is time you accepted that and went on living."
"Laiti . . ."
Turning, he took the coward's way out, and he left the woman who loved him staring after him sorrowfully.
Chapter 10
The low throbbing of the drums drew the natives from all parts of the island. They hurried forth to the temple, not wanting to be late for this most important ritual. The Ceremony of the Sacrifice was held only twice during the year to atone for their transgressions against the gods, and they knew it was important that they attend.