Eden Burning / Fires of Eden

by Elizabeth Lowell

  Stunned, Chase simply stared as Nicole turned away. Then his hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist, holding her close without hurting her.

  “For the love of God . . . !” He shook his head once, sharply, still barely able to believe what he had heard. “Did it ever occur to you that I didn’t please you in bed? It sure as hell occurred to me.”

  “But you did,” she said in a dull voice. “You pleased me more than my husband ever did. And I pleased you much less than a real woman would.”

  Just as Chase opened his mouth to tell her how wildly wrong she was, he saw a flicker of movement along the top of the lava flow. Someone was coming back to check on them.

  With a sliding pressure of his fingers, he released her wrist and said quietly, “We’ll talk later. In private.”

  “There’s nothing left to talk about.” Nicole’s expression was as weary as her voice. “You felt guilty for hurting me. Well, it wasn’t your fault, so you can stop worrying about making it right. It was the truth that hurt me, not you. I’m not much of a woman in bed and you’re all man. Talking won’t change that. Nothing will.”

  “Path?” Benny called from above their heads.

  “No, thanks,” she called back, understanding Benny’s one-word question. “You don’t need to find another way up for me. There’s nothing wrong with this path that walking on it won’t cure.”

  Chase watched Nicole disappear over the top of the lava flow. She moved cleanly, gracefully, and with an elemental femininity that made him want to grab her and not let go until she knew just how mistaken she was about herself.

  But he couldn’t do that here, with the kids waiting. There was nothing to do but follow her. He went up the lava wall in a coordinated rush, using strength where Nicole had used finesse, and wishing urgently that the two of them were alone. With each step he took, each rough scrape of stone against his bandages, her words echoed in his head.

  I’m not much of a woman in bed and you’re all man.

  You’re half wrong, Nicole, he retorted silently. I can’t wait until we’re alone and I can show you which half.

  29

  Tantalizing thoughts of all the ways to demonstrate just how mistaken Nicole was about her sensuality kept burning in Chase’s mind for the rest of the hike. Thoughts were all he had. There wasn’t any way to talk to her privately or even to touch her for the sheer pleasure of feeling her tremble with the elemental female response she had denied being capable of.

  She didn’t give him a single chance to get close to her. Every time he looked, she was in the center of a crowd of laughing kids. When they rested along the trail, she either had her sketchbook out or Lisa on her lap or both.

  He was relieved that fear no longer darkened Nicole’s eyes when he walked up to her, but no other emotion appeared either. In some uncanny, maddening way she avoided him even while she was looking straight into his eyes.

  The third time it happened, he wanted to grab her and lift her up to eye level until she looked—really looked—at him.

  Great, he told himself sardonically. Grabbing her and shoving your face in hers is a really cool way to impress her with how sensitive and gentle and understanding you are. You might try remembering that kind of in-your-face assault on the defense is the least likely way to move a football, much less a woman.

  Ahead of Chase, hikers started dropping out of sight as they scrambled down into Kamehameha Iki. The kipuka was at least several hundred years old, for huge ohia and koa trees grew there. A deep, clear spring welled up at the north end of the kipuka, creating a mirrorlike pool. Scarlet blossoms were reflected in the water, along with the changing, rainbow-hung sky. Lush plant life cushioned the ground in shades of green broken by splashes of color from flowers.

  The kids lost no time in peeling down to their swimsuits and washing off the heat and grime of the hike. Nicole posted herself on a fern-covered outcrop and watched the swimmers. Her actions were automatic—she always kept an eye on little Lisa, making sure she didn’t get lost in the heedless, high-speed play of the older kids.

  As soon as they both were cool, Benny signaled Lisa. The two of them stole off into a quiet corner of the kipuka. Nicole noted that Lisa wasn’t playing in the water anymore, and returned to her sketching. She wasn’t worried about Lisa being trampled playing with Benny.

  Chase also saw the two young kids leave and relaxed. Lisa was safer with Benny than with anyone else; even the adults were counting on the boy to lead them out of the forest. Chase marked the place in the kipuka where Benny and Lisa had gone, and then turned back to watch Nicole.

  He wanted to sit next to her, but the outcrop she had chosen was built for one, not two. After a quiet mental curse, he got out his own notebook and started doing what he should have been doing all along—taking notes on the varieties of plants growing on lava of different ages and types.

  Every few minutes he glanced up from his work, making sure that the teenage water sprites weren’t getting too wild playing their game of water tag. Satisfied that everyone was happy and accounted for, he returned his attention to his notes.

  Without seeming to, Nicole watched Chase’s increasing concentration on the kipuka around him. Part of her was relieved that he no longer searched her out with rain-colored eyes and stormy urgency. She told herself everything was fine now. She had finally made him understand that he shouldn’t feel guilty for what had happened. It wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t respond to a man.

  Maybe it wasn’t even her fault. Maybe it was simply a fact, like the hardened lava twisting over the land.

  Just a fact.

  But it would have been so wonderful to stand inside his arms again, to know the shimmering sweetness of his tongue sliding over hers, to feel his heat and strength radiating through her. Even the thought of it was enough to send delicate currents of pleasure through her body. The memory of his mouth caressing her breasts made her nipples rise and tighten, adding more heat to the restlessness deep inside her.

  It won’t happen again, so quit torturing yourself. That kind of touching doesn’t please a man, not really. A man wants more.

  Chase knows he isn’t going to get it. Not from me. I can’t give it to him. So why would he waste his time petting me and frustrating himself?

  The answer was simple. He wouldn’t.

  “Sad?” Benny whispered, appearing from nowhere to stand next to Nicole’s lava outcrop.

  She forced a smile onto her face and wished silently that Benny’s emotional radar was less sensitive. A whole lot less. “Where’s Lisa?”

  “Hunting.”

  Startled, Nicole blinked. Then she remembered the special kind of hunting Benny had taught his small friend.

  “Syrup?” she asked.

  Benny nodded. “Sketch?”

  “You mean she caught one?”

  “Big-big.” His smile lit up his dark, lean face.

  Clutching the sketch pad, Nicole scrambled off her rocky perch. “Good-good! Where?”

  “Close.”

  She gave a quick look around. No Lisa, but the older children had exhausted themselves for the moment and were sprawled on their towels making up awful puns. That should keep them occupied long enough for her to sneak off. Even if it didn’t, Chase was keeping a close eye on everything no matter how many notes he wrote.

  Nicole half smiled. It was a good feeling to share the responsibility for the kids with another adult.

  With a last look over her shoulder, she tiptoed after Benny. As she twisted and wriggled through the tight greenery, she envied the boy’s ease and silence. The instant he slowed down, she did. When he stopped, she crept up behind him and looked over his shoulder.

  Still wearing her red bathing suit, Lisa sat cross-legged in the middle of a small, flower-dotted clearing. The back of her gently curled hands were supported on her knees.

  Three huge butterflies rested with folded wings on the edge of her left hand, drinking from the tiny pool of sugar syrup cupped in her pa
lm. Each butterfly was as big as her hand. Their velvety black wings were set off by splashes of orange and white.

  Entranced, Lisa sat without moving, a look of breathless pleasure on her face.

  Nicole memorized everything about the glade and the girl and the moment. She wanted to draw Lisa, but was afraid if she lifted her sketchbook she would startle the butterflies into flight.

  Then Nicole sensed someone behind her. She didn’t need to turn around to know that Chase was there, close enough for her to feel his heat and hear the intake of his breath when he saw his daughter sitting in the sunlight with a handful of black-velvet butterflies.

  For long minutes no one moved, no one spoke.

  The breeze shifted, sending a flurry of tree shadows over the seated girl. The butterflies opened their color-splashed wings, lifted with the new currents, and chased one another in wild spirals that took them out of sight among the trees.

  Nicole let out a long breath and squeezed Benny’s shoulder. “Thank you. That was beautiful.”

  The boy gestured toward the little girl, then toward himself, and said proudly, “Kamehameha.” With that, he set off across the little clearing toward Lisa.

  “The butterflies are named after the Kamehamehas, the last Hawaiian royal family,” Nicole explained softly without turning around.

  “So Benny is descended from kings,” Chase said in a low voice. “And Bobby, too.”

  “Maybe.” She laughed quietly. “I don’t know of a native on the islands who doesn’t boast direct descent from kings. But Bobby has one thing going for his claim.”

  “What?”

  “Size. The Hawaiian kings and queens were huge. Seven feet wasn’t unusual for male royalty. And a woman under six feet tall was a shrimp,” Nicole added in an unconsciously wistful tone.

  Knowing she couldn’t see it, Chase smiled and looked at her from head to toe, liking every inch of what he saw.

  “They were big eaters, too,” she said. “A few centuries ago Bobby would have weighed at least a hundred pounds more than he does today. That’s why the butterflies are called Kamehameha.”

  “A four-hundred-pound butterfly?” Chase teased.

  She snickered. “No. Just giants among their own kind. A four-inch wingspan.”

  “Daddy,” Lisa called excitedly, looking beyond Benny to the underbrush where the two adults remained hidden. “Did you see me? Three butterflies! Benny says I must be related to the old kings to be such a good hunter.”

  “How did he say all that in one word?” Chase asked beneath his breath.

  “ ‘Princess,’ ” Nicole retorted softly.

  She sensed as much as heard the laughter rising in his chest.

  Chase stepped out into the clearing. “I saw you. I didn’t know you were such a good hunter. Do you think Benny can teach me to catch butterflies as well as you do?”

  “We don’t really catch them,” she corrected quickly. “I mean, we sort of do, but we don’t touch them or hurt them or anything. They touch us. It tickles like—like fairies laughing.”

  The voices of father and daughter floated back through the sun-dappled clearing to the place where Nicole stood concealed in the shadows.

  “I know you don’t hurt them, punkin.” Chase scooped up his daughter and settled her in the crook of his arm. “Otherwise it wouldn’t be any fun for the butterflies, would it? Or for us.” With his free hand he reached down and ruffled Benny’s thick hair affectionately. “What about it, Benny? Can the descendant of Hawaiian kings be bothered to teach a mere haole the secrets of butterfly hunting?”

  The boy laughed. “Sure-sure.”

  Nicole watched while the three of them chose places and sat cross-legged in the tiny, warm clearing. Benny’s voice had the clarity of a silver bell as he told Chase how to sit, how to rest his hands palm up on his knees, how to breathe quietly and slowly.

  And all in four words.

  Benny squeezed a clear, thick pool of sugar syrup into Chase’s palm, stepped back, and added the most important instruction: “Wait.”

  “That’s all there is to it?” Chase asked.

  “Sure-sure,” Lisa said. She pointed toward a velvet-winged butterfly settling onto a flower a few feet away. “She knows you’re here. If she’s hungry, she’ll come to you.”

  “She?” Chase asked. “You sure?”

  “Sure-sure. All pretty butterflies are girls. Like me.”

  “Makes sense, pretty girl,” he said, hiding a smile. “What if it, er, she doesn’t come to me? Do I chase her?”

  “No-no-no,” Lisa said instantly. “You’re too big, Daddy. You might hurt her. You don’t want to do that, do you?”

  His smile faded. “No, I don’t want to hurt anything that delicate and beautiful.”

  Lisa shifted a little, found a more comfortable way to sit, and waited while Benny put a few drops of the sugar solution on her hand. Silence and utter stillness claimed the clearing, as though even the wind was watching with breath held.

  Nicole certainly was almost afraid to breathe as various butterflies skimmed and swirled over the flowers. No matter how many times they flew over or around or near the patient humans, none of the butterflies felt brave enough to land.

  Finally a huge Kamehameha butterfly hovered around Chase’s hand in a slowly closing, unpredictable spiral. Delicately the butterfly settled on the edge of his callused palm, then instantly fled, then settled once more, only to flit away again without drinking.

  Chase didn’t move at all, not even to present his lure more openly. He simply waited while the velvet wings fluttered closer and closer. At last the butterfly floated down to rest completely, safely, in the palm of his hand, drinking deeply of the sweetness he offered.

  Nicole knew the exact instant when the butterfly trustingly drank. It was the moment when Chase looked up and found her concealed among the green shadows, wistfully watching a butterfly cherished within the hard curve of his hand.

  30

  Tuesday, Chase and Nicole were hiking together again as they had every day since the picnic. It was the only time he saw her. His bruised hands wouldn’t let him play the drums, and he hadn’t trusted himself to watch her dance to Bobby’s beat.

  But during the long hours of daylight, he was with her. She led him to various kipukas, both well known and unknown. He surveyed the different islands of life, choosing the locations that would be best for his book. And over the many rough spots on the trails, he slowly, slowly, had accustomed her to his touch.

  Now, as he helped her down a very rough portion of the path, he silently congratulated himself on his choice of kipuka for today’s work.

  The worse the trail, the more he got to touch her.

  Until yesterday morning, when he introduced light hugs after really hard parts of the trail, he had made sure the touching seemed all very ordinary. Even the hugs he gave her were casual, not sexual. He had no intention of doing anything that would make her rethink the promise he had given to her almost a week ago.

  I’ll never hurt you like that again.

  It was the exact truth.

  But not the whole truth.

  He meant to make love to her, only this time there would be pleasure instead of pain.

  Nicole had taken his words to mean that he would never try to seduce her again. What she hadn’t figured out yet was that Chase simply couldn’t walk away from her and what they could share as a man and a woman. He wanted her more with each day, each smile, each thought they shared, each silence, each touch, all of it adding up to a complex hunger that made him ache.

  He had been very careful not to let her know the depth of his need for her. He didn’t want to frighten her. He wanted her to come to him like the butterfly in the glen.

  And like the butterfly, she kept coming closer, then retreating in a velvet flurry.

  He sensed that she wanted him more with every touch, every easy silence, every conversation, every moment they spent together. He saw her yearning in the way her eyes f
ollowed him, in the softening of her mouth when she watched him, in the visible shivers that sometimes moved over her golden skin when he touched her casually.

  It was driving him crazy.

  The only thing that kept him from reaching out and grabbing her was an emotion that was even greater than his hunger for her. He needed to be certain that making love with her wouldn’t hurt her. He couldn’t bear hurting her again.

  If that meant never making love to her, so be it. Somehow he would find a way to live without having her in his bed.

  And each day he lived, he would curse himself for the unspeakable fool he had been eight days ago, when he had closed his hand and crushed the fragile wings of her trust in him.

  It will work out, he told himself silently.

  It had to. He couldn’t live with himself otherwise.

  Yesterday he and Nicole had hiked from Kilauea’s caldera past the cone called Kilauea Iki, where in 1959 fountains of lava nearly two thousand feet high had showered ash, pumice, and globs of cooling stone over an ohia forest. The trees had lost their leaves, their bark, and their lives to the volcano, but their trunks hadn’t burned completely. Their graceful skeletons lingered on, rising from the black, devastated land like ghosts of a greener yesterday frozen in time.

  Chase felt the same way. Frozen in time.

  He could control the physical ache of wanting Nicole. He couldn’t control the agony of having had her and then destroying her, leaving behind a mental landscape more bleak than any volcanic devastation he had ever seen.

  What made it worse was that she still didn’t understand. She blamed herself.

  He put the blame where it belonged. On him.

  “Need a break?” Nicole asked, sensing that Chase had stopped on the rough trail behind her. When she looked over her shoulder, his clear, beautiful eyes were measuring the black rivers of lava twisting down to the turquoise sea.

  “Just taking in the landmarks. You sure there’s a kipuka between here and the ocean?”

  For an instant she looked almost guilty. “It’s not a true kipuka,” she admitted. “But it’s very special. It’s the only place I’ve seen on this lava flow where anything more than Hawaiian snow grows.”