Island Fire

by Bobbi Smith

  "Tikiru!" Nelani's excited whisper broke through her sorrowing thoughts, and she looked up at her slave. "Look! There. Down the beach!"

  Glancing in the direction in which the slave girl was pointing, she gasped in stunned amazement. Coming toward them were two men and one was unmistakably Tommy. Her joy at seeing him was so great that at first she could not speak. Breaking away from the others, she ran toward him.

  Tommy and Mitch had decided to follow the shoreline back to the hut, and initially they had been cautious when they'd seen the small group of men and women emerge from the forest. But it had only taken Tommy an instant to recognize his love, and he'd rushed forward to meet her.

  "Tikiru!" His voice was strangled with emotion as he swept her into his arms and kissed her.

  "Oh, Tommy! You're alive!" She clung to him, unable to believe that he'd been spared Manti's deadly wrath.

  "Tikiru! We must go!" Nelani called as she and the others waited by the outriggers for her to come.

  "Go?" Tommy asked quickly as Mitch caught up with them. "Where are you going?"

  Father Pierre came forward to speak with them. "There is much ill will toward Tikiru among the islanders, and Luatu is fearful for her life. We are leaving Malika tonight. It is the only way we can be sure nothing will happen."

  "I'll go with you," Tommy offered without pause, but Father Pierre curtly refused.

  "No. As she is, she can settle on another island without being recognized, but if you were to come along it would only be a matter of time before someone discovered the truth."

  "Then Tikiru can come with me," Tommy countered, trying to find a way for them to be together. "The ship should be here at any time."

  "You both might be dead before it arrived," Father Pierre informed him flatly.

  "No, Tommy." Tikiru faced him, her eyes dark with concern. Now that she knew him to be safe, she would not let him endanger himself again. "I must go and you must stay."

  "Tikiru . . ." His agony was evident.

  "It is the only way. Do you think I would be able to live with the knowledge that you had died because of me?" she told him, her pain tearing her apart. "In these past few minutes, when I thought you were dead, I did not want to go on living." She smiled faintly. "Now, knowing that you are well, I can face my future."

  "There has to be a way!" he insisted, but she stepped away from him, turning to Father Pierre.

  "No, Tommy. I'm sorry. She must go now, before we are discovered." Father Pierre put an arm around Tikiru and started to lead her away.

  "Tikiru!"

  Breaking away from the priest's supportive grip, she rushed back to her love, throwing herself into his arms for one last kiss. "I shall love you forever, golden one." She smiled at him sadly and then returned to where Pierre was waiting to assist her into the canoe.

  Tommy watched in heartbreaking agony as the outrigger disappeared from view beyond the barrier reef.

  Chapter 18

  "I'm Captain Clark, owner and master of the Providence," the gray-haired man declared as he greeted Mitch and Tommy when they boarded his vessel the following afternoon.

  "I'm Mitch Williams." Mitch took the captain's hand and found the big man's grip warm and strong.

  "And I'm Tommy O'Ryan."

  "Welcome aboard."

  "Thank you, Captain Clark. We appreciate your taking the time to come to Malika for us." Mitch surveyed the tall-masted ship with interest.

  "Have you been stranded here long?" Clark inquired, curious as to the story behind their being here.

  "Several months," Tommy supplied. "Yours is the first ship to come to the area since the Seastorm went down."

  "You'll have to tell me about it later, after you've settled in," the captain encouraged.

  "We'd be glad to," Mitch agreed.

  "Ah, here's my wife now. Mildred," he called out, as a short, plump woman appeared on deck.

  "Your wife travels with you?" Mitch had not expected to find another woman aboard.

  "Always." Captain Clark smiled affectionately as she came toward him. "Mildred, these are our new passengers—Mr. Williams and Mr. O'Ryan."

  "It's a pleasure to meet you," Mildred said pleasantly.

  "Well, if you gentlemen will get the rest of your gear aboard, we'll be making sail," Clark told them.

  "Captain, one more person will be coming with us," Mitch declared quickly. "My wife will be joining us shortly."

  "Your wife was sailing with you on the Seastorm?" Mildred was thrilled at the prospect of having another female to visit with during the long trip back to California.

  "No. Espri and I have only just married." Mitch glanced toward Malika and saw Luatu's outrigger coming their way. "She's coming now."

  Captain Clark and his wife were both astounded to see a beautiful young girl, clad in the native mode of dress, riding in the position of importance at the front of the ornate canoe. "You've married an islander?"

  "Yes," Mitch answered somewhat defensively; but noticing that there had been no malice behind their words, he softened his reply. "Espri is the granddaughter of the chief and her father is a Frenchman who decided to make his permanent home on Malika."

  "She's lovely," Mildred confided.

  "Thank you."

  They watched from the deck as Espri said her final farewells to Jacques and Luatu and then began to climb up the ladder that would take her to her husband. Mitch went to her aid immediately and helped her aboard.

  Espri was surprised and secretly pleased by his unexpected display of attentiveness, and she allowed him to draw her forward across the deck to meet the Clarks. The feel of his hand at her waist sent a shiver of excited anticipation through her, causing her to hope that, indeed, this would be a new beginning for them. But feeling her reaction to his touch, Mitch tensed, thinking her response one of aversion to his nearness. Espri noticed that his expression suddenly darkened, and her hopes were dashed.

  "Captain Clark, Mrs. Clark, this is my wife Espri." Mitch introduced them, outwardly displaying none of the anger Espri sensed he was feeling.

  "I'm delighted to meet you, Mrs. Williams." Mildred took Espri's hand as she studied her with twinkling brown eyes. This woman is lovely, she mused thoughtfully. No wonder the handsome Mr. Williams married her. "It will be wonderful to have another woman to visit with during the rest of our voyage."

  "Please, call me Espri," the younger woman invited, taking an immediate liking to the captain's wife.

  "And I'm Mildred." She patted Espri's hand with welcoming reassurance. "Have you brought all your things with you?" She had noticed only the single sea chest that Mitch had hauled aboard.

  "All of our things are here," Mitch answered, smiling wryly.

  "Oh." She was surprised. "Well, then, let's go below and get you settled in, shall we?"

  As Captain Clark went to the helm to get the ship underway, Mildred led them below deck. After directing Tommy to a room amidships, she opened the door to a cabin at the stern and turned to Mitch and Espri.

  "I hope you find this will suit your needs."

  "Thank you, Mildred." Mitch placed their trunk on the floor and looked around with interest. Though small, the room did boast a porthole and a convenience. "It is much more than I expected."

  "You're more than welcome. If you need anything, please let me know."

  "We will," Mitch assured her.

  "I'll look forward to seeing you both later, then," Mildred said as she left the cabin.

  "Fine," Mitch answered, and Espri flashed her a quick, grateful smile.

  When she'd gone, Mitch closed the door and Espri stood in silence, surveying the tiny room that would be her home for the long months at sea. She had never been aboard a ship like this before, and she found most of the furnishings quite curious. The bed was large, and it dominated the cramped, white-walled room. Pegs for hanging clothing lined one wall. A narrow shelf was on the other. A washstand equipped with a china pitcher and bowl stood in the corner near the bedstead, a
nd above it was a small, round mirror.

  "Mrs. Clark seems very nice," Espri remarked to break the silence.

  "Yes," he replied tersely as he busied himself with their sea chest.

  "Do wives usually sail with their husbands?" she ventured.

  "It isn't done often," he explained without looking up. "Mainly because of the hardships suffered at sea. Things can get pretty rough during a long journey, and a lot of women would rather wait in the comfort of their homes for their men to return."

  Espri knew that if Mitch were a ship's captain she would most certainly sail with him, for she found the prospect of being apart from him for months unbearable. Dismissing that thought as ridiculous because he didn't care if she was near or not, she turned her attention to the bed, her curiosity aroused. Unable to resist temptation any longer, she touched the mattress.

  "This is soft!" she exclaimed in wonder, and then sat down on it for the first time. "I had no idea . . ."

  Espri was beaming with delight at her discovery, and her innocence still had the power to amaze Mitch. Realizing it would not be easy for her to adapt to his way of life in San Francisco, he felt a driving need to protect her, to shield her from all they would have to face in the coming months. Mitch's gaze warmed as he took in the ebony length of hair cascading down her back, and he noted the way her sarong clung tightly to her perfect figure. His desire for her, so long denied, stirred to life as he imagined them making love on the comfort of the bed, and he swore silently to himself as he stood up. Fighting the urge to take her, then and there, he scowled blackly, knowing that he had to get away from her tempting presence.

  "Stay in the cabin until I return," he barked, without preamble, and he stalked from the room, shutting the door tightly behind him.

  Espri stared after him, her eyes wide. She did not understand what she'd done to anger him. Sighing, she lay back, testing the comfort of the bed, and she couldn't help but try to imagine what it was going to be like to share its wide softness with Mitch.

  His desire for Espri under control, Mitch searched out Captain Clark, and he found him on deck, directing the setting of the sails.

  "Mr. Williams, I'm about finished here." The captain issued several more orders and then gave Mitch his full attention. "Would you care to join me for a drink in my quarters?"

  "Yes, I'd like that, and please, I'd appreciate it if you'd call me Mitch."

  "Done." Clark started off toward the passageway that led to his cabin. "What's your preference? Rum? Whiskey?"

  "Whiskey."

  "Fine." They entered the captain's more spacious quarters, and Clark went to his massive desk, motioning Mitch to take a seat across from him. Opening the bottom drawer, he extracted two glasses and a nearly full bottle of bourbon. After pouring them both a healthy draft, he handed Mitch his. "To your health," he toasted, and they downed the liquor easily.

  Mitch savored the taste of the potent bourbon. "It's been a long time." He sighed.

  Clark eyed him with interest. "You don't seem a common sailor. How did you come to be aboard the fated craft?"

  Mitch's smile was sardonic as he met the captain's gaze steadily. "I was shanghaied in San Francisco."

  "I had suspected as much." The captain nodded as Mitch's declaration confirmed his original suspicions. "Your friend, too?"

  "Yes. I imagine our families have given us up for dead by now." Mitch stared pensively at the amber liquid in his glass.

  "Well, I'm sure they'll be glad to have you back. What did you do before going to sea?" Clark's wry sense of humor brought a cynical chuckle from Mitch.

  "My chosen profession as opposed to my enforced profession?" He grinned. "I run Williams Shipping."

  The captain started in surprise, and his eyes narrowed. "You're that Williams?"

  "At your service," Mitch acknowledged, amusement in his voice.

  "A fine business you run," Clark complimented.

  "Thank you. I'd be honored to have you sign on, once we're back. The Providence seems a tightly run ship; I think we could do well together."

  Pleased by the offer, Clark nodded as he refilled their glasses. "So, tell me of the Seastorm and your time on Malika. Who was the captain?"

  "Warson, and a more villainous man I've never encountered." Mitch recalled the man, and after all this time, his hatred for him was a powerful thing.

  "I'd heard rumors to that account. It's no wonder the man had to buy a crew."

  Mitch sighed as he leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out before him and sipping slowly of the whiskey. "Tommy and I were very lucky. The Seastorm went down in a cyclone, and we were the only survivors."

  "You were washed up on Malika?"

  "Yes. Espri and her father took care of me. Tommy was found by a family in the village."

  "Mildred and I were hoping you would join us tonight for dinner."

  "You're most kind. We would be delighted to accept." Mitch was pleased by the invitation. He had decided to seek Mildred's aid, if she was willing, in helping Espri adapt to her new way of life. "Considering the position I now find myself in, I was wondering if I could enlist your aid."

  "Of course. What can I help you with?"

  "As you've seen, my wife is far from suitably clothed for her arrival in San Francisco. Would it be possible to purchase any extra clothing you might have aboard?"

  "We do have some cloth we were bringing back from the Orient. Is Espri talented with a needle and thread?"

  "Yes, but she has little idea of our fashion."

  "If you have no objection, I'll suggest to Mildred that she help her. She may even have a few gowns that could be altered to fit your wife."

  "I'd be most grateful."

  "I have some extra things too, and I've spoken with my first mate, who is more your friend Tommy's size. We should be able to find at least a change of clothes for the both of you."

  "Thank you." Mitch was relieved that the clothing issue had been so easily dealt with. "I know this transition is not going to be easy for Espri."

  "I'm sure Mildred will do all she can to help. She is very happy about having Espri's company. I think they'll get on well together."

  "You've been most kind."

  "Nonsense. It's the least I can do for you."

  "I'd better be getting back to see how Espri is faring. What time would you like us to join you tonight?"

  "We generally dine after sunset. I'll send the cabin boy for you."

  "Fine. Until then . . ." Mitch rose and they shook hands before he left the captain's cabin.

  Espri had remained in the stateroom as Mitch had bid, but when she felt the vessel get underway, she knew she had to have one last look at Malika. Hurrying up on deck, she positioned herself at the rail and stared out across the blue-green waters, watching numbly as Malika faded from view. So much had happened to her in such a short period of time that she felt almost anesthetized against this final separation from her family and her lifelong home.

  It was not easy, this saying good-bye to the security of the life she'd shared with her father and grandfather, but both men had emphasized her duty as Mitch's wife, and she knew she was obligated to go with him. Suddenly feeling very alone, Espri fought a moment of panic. Knowing she would soon have her child, she rested her hand on her slightly rounded stomach as if to confirm the reality of the baby's existence.

  Mitch entered their cabin fully intending to explain to Espri his reason for telling her to remain in the room, but when he discovered that she'd left despite his instructions, he was furious. Storming up the companionway, he strode out on deck. As he had expected, all the sailors were watching Espri, who stood at the railing. Their leering expressions clearly revealed their carnal thoughts, and a surge of protective jealousy propelled him toward her.

  "I thought I told you to stay below!" Mitch suddenly loomed over her, his expression dark and ominous.

  Startled by his unexpected appearance, Espri stumbled over her explanation. "You did, but I wante
d to watch."

  "It doesn't matter to me what you wanted. When I tell you to do something, I expect you to obey without question," he growled, gripping her arm tightly. "Especially while we are on this ship." He glared ominously at the randy seamen, and they quickly turned back to their duties.

  Though his fingers dug painfully into the soft flesh of her upper arm, Espri did not protest his lead, and she accompanied him without any resistance. But when he opened the door to their small stateroom, she turned on him, her anger equaling his.

  "What do you think you're doing!" she demanded, shaking off his hand and staring up at him angrily, hands on her hips in defiance of his manhandling.

  "I want you to stay below deck in our cabin unless I'm with you," he answered curtly.

  "Why?" she challenged. "Are you ashamed of me? Do I embarrass you now that you're back among your own kind?"

  She looked beautiful in her rage, her dark eyes flashing fire, her breasts heaving in indignation. Mitch wanted to hold her and kiss her and love her, to tell her that he'd be proud to claim her as his anytime, anywhere; but once more he thrust the desire from him. And when she spoke again, he knew he'd been right to refuse to act upon his feelings.

  "If you feel that way, then why don't you leave me here? I could be happy on Malika. I don't need you." She had taken his silence to mean her words had hit their mark.

  "Obviously," he drawled mockingly. "I'm just to leave you here to raise my child without a suitable father."

  "Jacques and Luatu would be wonderful fathers for the child. Leave me here, Mitch. I don't belong with you!" Espri hardened her voice so he wouldn't hear the desperation she was feeling.

  "Your pardon, my love." Mitch's eyes were cool as they drifted over her. "You are my wife in the eyes of God and man. Your place is with me. I'm sorry if that doesn't please you, but you may as well accept it. You will be mine until we are parted by death."