Crimson Rapture (16 page)

There
was a wild untamed carnal element to this love, coming less from the
surrounding jungle and more from the sudden unleashing of desire. The force of
unleashing intensified and she was crying, clinging, trying to keep him to her,
afraid of what was over- whelming her. But he was kissing her and she him, with
a kiss that did not stop until breathing was all but impossible. His own desire
forced a harder and faster pace and finally, mercifully, ripples of pleasure
exploded in her, washing mind, body, and soul and she was swooning, drowning,
unaware of his last thrust, the violent shudder of his huge body in her.

The
sun had sunk beneath the horizon, leaving them amidst the soft darkening colors
of twilight. She could not, would not, let go of him. She knew only that the
feel of his body on hers was as essential as air. And there was no other
thought.

For
a long while Justin held her gently, caressing her back, staring at her
intently. Despite the great warmth between them, a warmth that defied both
elements and explanation, he knew she'd be chilled soon, and without a word, he
led her out of the water.

Justin
pulled on his breeches and went to fetch her clothes. She felt his gaze still
watching her and feeling suddenly shy, blushing because of it. She looked up
with a start when he chuckled.

"Christina,
it's not as though seeing any part of you is... ah, novel to me."

She
couldn't meet his eyes as he fitted the still damp chemise over her, first
pulling her wet hair from beneath, then tying the tattered laces of the front.
He couldn't tell what she was thinking until she said in a frightened whisper,
"You must think I'm terribly... forward."

"Forward?"
He searched her face incredulously, then chuckled warmly.

She
turned from him, embarrassed, wishing she had never said anything, but Justin
caught her arm and while he was obviously amused by her train of thought, he
apologized. "I'm sorry, Christina, I didn't mean to laugh. It's just that
I think of you as anything but forward."

She
hardly knew what this meant and she would like to know what he did think of
her, of how easily she succumbed to his touch, his kisses. She had learned she
could not stop herself and now wondered why she would even want to, for nothing
in the whole of her world meant as much to her as the intimacy of his
lovemaking.

She
wondered if all women felt this way, if she was different... or special to him.
Sometimes she felt his love wrap around her, enclosing her to him with a near
tangible force, and yet he had never declared it.

Justin
watched the play of emotions across her face and read the uncertainty of her
thoughts. "Come here." He smiled as he sat against a large boulder
alongside the waterfall on the mossy bank. She came to him, fitted perfectly
between his legs. She leaned against his warmth, waiting for what he would say.

"I
too easily forget the limits of your background," he first said.
"Nothing in your life could have prepared you for what has happened; it is
all so new to you.

She
nodded slowly. This was true.

Thinking
of this made him smile. He had three older half-sisters and he knew how proper
young English girls were raised—in a prison of ignorance. They were given books
to read with titles like,
Every Christian Wife's Duty,
books that
alluded to the "unpleasant" price a woman must bear for her husband's
sanity. Unless the girl caught sight of a chambermaid tumbling with the
stablehand, she wasn't going to know just what this unpleasant aspect of her
duty was until the very night of her wedding. He supposed this was all very
well for those women who— either owing to their nature or their husbands—were
never going to experience the pleasure of love.

Obviously
this was not Christina's case.

"Yes,"
he said, more to himself, "you were raised to be courted by some
well-intentioned and honest young man, to be married before you gave yourself,
all those things I'm not in a position to give you now. The odd thing is,"
he mused thoughtfully, "had I met you under normal circumstances it would
never have happened. I would never have known to find you in a shy, very proper
young lady. I know it's hard for you." His voice softened as his hand
tenderly brushed her face. "I know I forced you to love me—"

She
looked away, wanting to deny the truth but unable to.

"Don't
worry." He chuckled affectionately at this. "I'm not apologizing for
it. I'd have to regret it to apologize and I don't; not for a minute. I do hope
to someday make it up to you but, until then, you should know that, yes, I have
fallen very much in love with you."

She
searched his face to ascertain the truth of this and when she did, love
swiftly, forcibly filled her. Her arms fitted around his neck and he held her
tightly.

For
what seemed an eternity, they remained in each other's arms, content with the
completeness of the moment. These moments made her forget the harsh reality of
another Justin. A reality that would continue to come back to her like a hard
slap in the face.

Nightfall
began to encroach on the soft colors of twilight. The first stars appeared in
the violet sky and sounds of the jungle gradually diminished. The silence was
broken only by the barest whisper of a breeze, the steady trickle of the
waterfall and, in the far distance, the sounds of everyone gathering on the
beach for supper.

"Justin!"

They
both sat up to see Jacob standing at the edge of the pond's clearing beneath
the light of a torch.

"It's
Diego," he said, his face masked with pained concern. "He's worse and
Cajun's afraid to knock him out again. I think we should move him for a
while."

Christina
watched Justin rise and leave with Jacob, without a glance back. Diego Santiago
was not a subject anyone mentioned, especially to Justin, though now she knew
why. Once she had overheard one of Justin's men say that it was beyond his
comprehension how Justin could stand to keep Diego alive, that the man should
be killed. But Justin, she knew, could not harbor such cruel sentiments, for
obviously Diego's horrible agony was retribution enough for any crime the poor
man had committed. Justin rose above his personal animosity to exercise mercy.

Christina
pulled herself into a tight ball, watching the darkness descend around her and
selfishly not wanting to leave the quiet sanctity of the pond for the beach
where she would witness Diego Santiago's suffering. She wanted to escape into
the preciousness of those last moments with Justin.

It
was too late. The thought of Diego Santiago sent her thoughts in tumult. How
many times had they all been awakened in the middle of the night to hear his
agonized cries? And how many times had she desperately sought a means, any
means, of easing that poor man's agony? But as Cajun said, nothing could be
done. There were no medicines or pain killers and, indeed, no one even knew the
cause of his suffering. He grew weaker each day and as he grew weaker, his pain
seemed to grow stronger. It was the dark side of the island and at times
unbearable for her. The worst thing she ever felt was the helplessness of
watching someone suffer and not being able to do anything about it.

Though,
oddly, no one was tormented by Diego as Justin was. He often spent long hours
alone with him and he cared for Diego himself, all this despite the mysterious
crime Diego had committed against him. They had once been friends too, she
knew, for Justin often alluded to Diego when he told her stories from his past.
He had met Diego at a boarding school for the sons of European wealthy aristocratic
families and, when he was but fourteen, he and Diego ran away to seek the
romantic adventures they had read about of a life at sea. They had remained
together ever since until—

Until
what? What had Diego done that Justin and his men refused to talk about? It
must have been horrible if they could not even name it. She had once asked
Justin what crime Diego committed. She would never forget Justin's face then;
he took on a strange haunted look. "As long as I live," he had
finally answered, "I will be asking that question. Why Diego—" He
never finished and, instead, had suddenly got up and left their tent.

A
dark shape suddenly appeared in front of her and she started, then cried,
"Beau! You scared me!" Beau whimpered and thumped his tail as though in
apology. She accepted and reached out to pet him. The second she touched his
fur, she withdrew. He was covered with a sticky substance.

"Oh,
Beau! What did you catch?" she asked, half scolding, as she stood up.
"Go on, get in the water." She pointed. Beau barked but complied and
pranced over to the pond, plunging ungracefully into the water. He then assumed
a sitting position in the shallows, waiting her next instruction.

Christina
stepped to his side and gently pushed his head under the water, rinsing his
coat of the blood. She could not imagine how a dog of his size could catch
anything. One would think creatures knew he was coming for miles around.

She
rinsed her hand off and looked apprehensively toward the beach. "Come
on," she said. "We should be going back."

At
night everyone congregated in a large circle around the blazing campfire for
supper. A half dozen tall torches stuck in the sand and threw bright light over
the area to give a festive air to the congregational site. Christina found
dinner well on its way; all of Justin's men gathered round the pit, talking,
eating, drinking.

Justin
and Cajun were noticeably absent. Upon seeing her, both Hanna and Elsie jumped
up to greet her with the exciting news.

"We
were just on our way ta find ye," Elsie first said.

"Did
Justin tell you?" Hanna asked. Christina shook her head and Hanna grabbed
her hand to lead her away from the fire to the treasure. "They got your
trunk up today! All our things: brushes and clothes, two blankets, and even a
glass!"

"My
books!"

Upon
inspection though, it seemed most of the books were ruined by the salt water.
The clothes, too, would need a good rinsing or two before they could ascertain
the extent of their damage. Jacob cautioned them against unpacking that night,
for on the morrow they were all moving to the caves.

Since
they were finished salvaging from the sunken ship, they were going to move
about three miles south. Christina had not yet seen the caves, but Jacob had
taken Hanna one day and the way Hanna described the lagoon and caves and
waterfalls made their new home sound like the royal palace. Whether grand or
not, it would certainly be an improvement over the makeshift tents.

The
three women joined the circle around the campfire and Christina had just
finished serving up a healthy portion of the fish stew when Justin and Cajun
returned. She felt his tension and one look at the sharp features of his face
outlined in the firelight spoke of trouble. She quickly fetched two more large
shells, served up the fish stew, and handed the food to Justin and Cajun both.

The
men sensed the tension as well and the din of conversation seemed to quiet
somewhat for a while. Christina finished eating and leaned forward, kneeling on
her hands and knees to snatch a coconut from the pile. Justin suddenly cursed
and her gaze lifted to find herself the recipient of his angry stare.
Instinctively, not knowing what she had done to deserve it, she started back,
but he dropped his food and caught her retreat, pulling her in front of him.

"For
a young lady who was all blushes and confusion over her immodest state just two
weeks ago, you have come far, too far," he said in a low voice so as not
to be overheard by anyone, save Cajun at his side. "The only reason I
spent two days to bring up your trunk was to see you in something that doesn't
solicit lascivious stares from my men. And I want to see you in that something
else no later than the morrow."

Feeling
blood rush to her face and her lip start to tremble, Christina barely managed a
nod. Justin saw this and made no move to comfort her. He wanted to frighten
her. Lascivious hardly described the stares of the three men across the fire
upon seeing her provocative, all too innocent pose in that flimsy costume. It
was a simple matter—either get her clothed or start knocking off his men.

The
hot sting of tears filled her eyes and she desperately tried to recover enough
to retreat. She could not believe it was him, that he would speak to her like
that, and she wished fervently she owned the strength to voice the hundred
defensive rebukes in her mind. She had gotten used to immodesty, everyone had,
and neither Hanna nor Elsie were any less indecent than she. She didn't think
anyone stared at her like that. He made it sound as though she was a... a—

She
crossed her arms over herself, suddenly ashamed, just ashamed, desperately
waiting for her heart and pulse to steady enough to enable her to run and hide.
Seeing this, Cajun silently slipped his arm around her. The comfort of his
embrace spoke more than a thousand words.

"Ah,
Captain." A man named John beckoned to Justin from across the fire. He was
a huge, thickset man of about thirty. Hardened and tough, he was known for a
reckless flirting with danger, all kinds, operating with what is mistakenly
called courage. Like most of Justin's men, John was loyal to the end. He was
the kind of man one wanted as crew to sail the seas but one of the last people
anyone would choose to be stranded with on a deserted island.