Days of Desire

by Tina Donahue

  “Is she on the blasted island?”

  Gavra looked down her nose at him. “Peter had other tasks to do so he left the chickens and birds to Simone. I told her not to bother. If they belong to you, they should die. You will bring us nothing but trouble like Canela did.”

  His face burned. “I don’t want anyone here getting hurt.” More truth than he’d ever spoken. “I want everyone to be all right.”

  “Then leave. Now.” She flung out her arm. “Go.”

  If not for his family, he would have. To behave as cowardly as his father had wasn’t something Royce could allow. He’d die first. “Where are my pets?”

  “I will never tell you.” She slammed the door in his face.

  Undeterred, he followed.

  The islander guarding his room shouted. “Arrȇtez!” Stop.

  Royce moved as quickly as he could.

  Halfway down the hall James blocked him, hand on the pistol in his belt. “Sure you should be up and trying to walk?”

  Royce sagged against the wall, breath hitching. “Gavra said Simone’s caring for Edward’s chickens and birds. I wanted to see the creatures. That’s all. I promised Edward I’d do so.”

  “Been having nightmares about not saving him?”

  Royce pressed against the stone to steady himself. He didn’t want to consider how he’d behaved during sleep or what Simone had told the others. “I’ll never forgive myself for his death. Simone said Peter couldn’t save every chicken or bird. I don’t want to lose any more. I’m sure she has other tasks to see to. She shouldn’t be troubling herself with the creatures.”

  “You’re right. She should have seen to you. You’re bleeding again.”

  A doubloon-sized stain dirtied his breeches. “I can tend it later. Take me to her first. Please.”

  James tapped his pistol. “I’ll have to ask Tristan.”

  “Do so now. I’m not going anywhere.” His leg felt twice its normal size. He yielded to the fiery pain and slid to the floor. Sweat soaked his shirt, the damp linen clinging to his chest.

  James left.

  The islander who’d shouted stood in the chamber doorway, pistol raised.

  Royce nearly laughed at the absurdity of this. “Shoot me if you must. I can’t move from here.”

  “Assurez-vous que vous ne.” See that you don’t.

  Diana entered the hall and halted yards from Royce. Although she carried no weapon, her hard frown kept him cautious. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Waiting for James. He’s asking Tristan if I can see Edward’s pets.”

  She hurried in the same direction James had.

  Two young women strolled by, eyeing him curiously. He tipped his head in greeting.

  They dissolved into giggles and ran away.

  A chicken squawked, head bobbing as it explored the hall and floor. He hoped to God Gavra hadn’t let his birds loose. If he didn’t contact Bishop eventually, the bloody bastard might send another agent here who’d have no trouble destroying these people.

  Two children darted into the hall, pursuing the hen. It flapped its wings furiously, evading its captors. The boys won out and carried the chicken away, possibly to the kitchen for roasting.

  Royce rubbed his temple.

  James finally returned, carrying a crudely constructed crutch. “This might help you walk.”

  “Did you just make it?”

  “Belonged to Philippe’s grandfather before the pirates killed him.”

  “The ones Diana outwitted?”

  “Those before Tristan took over the isle. Here.” He offered his hand. “Be certain to thank Philippe for his kindness. He was reluctant to help at first.”

  Royce tested the device. Not as good as two sturdy legs but better than limping. “I promise to show my gratitude the next time I see him. Thank you for thinking of this.”

  James looked past him to the islander. “You can leave. I’ll watch him now.”

  The man strode past.

  James regarded Royce. “Tristan said you can see your pets. As long as you’re here, you’ll have to make yourself useful. Once your injuries have healed, we’ll put you to work with the pigs or in the fields.”

  “I promise to pull my weight.” He followed James down the hall, past numerous bedchambers. “The women don’t have to work at those hard physical tasks, do they?”

  James glanced over. “If you mean Simone, she heals and helps with the children. The others spin cloth, sew, make pottery, clean, cook, and do whatever else is necessary to thrive. No one is idle here.”

  “On Tristan’s orders.”

  “By custom. The islanders work now as they always have. The only thing Tristan has done is use his knowledge to improve their crops and animals.”

  Royce stopped outside a room. So many books filled the space he couldn’t count them. Volumes stretched from floor to ceiling, many stacked on chairs and the floor. There were charts too that would prove most valuable. “Are those Tristan’s?”

  “They are. He can read, write, and speak seven languages. Knows more than most nobles, possibly even the king.”

  Alarm raced through Royce. Before coming here, he’d learned as much as he could about Tristan, finding nothing from his past. He seemed born, fully grown, on the ship where he turned to piracy. “Are you saying he’s a peer?”

  That would be the worst possible thing.

  James laughter rang through the hall. “God, no. Tristan taught himself everything he knows. He’s better than any bloody noble. Come on, I haven’t all day to escort you.”

  In the kitchen, Gavra and two other women stopped chopping, mixing, and stirring the food.

  “Ladies.” James tipped his head and winked at Gavra.

  She blushed prettily. The others smiled. None glanced at Royce.

  Children scampered in the courtyard. Women worked the looms and potter’s wheels. Some washed clothing. Sun shone from a flawless sky. Simone’s scent wafted past, floating on the mild breeze.

  “Your creatures are in here, but only for the time being.” James stopped at a room off the courtyard, the door closed, shutters drawn. Faint cackles sounded within.

  “I’ll gladly keep them in my chamber.”

  “Tristan doesn’t allow anything but humans in the house.”

  “Why does he want the birds moved from here?”

  “It’s a birthing room for the women. Peter planned to keep the cages in the courtyard. Simone worried the children might open them accidentally, letting the birds escape, and had him move the lot in here. The ladies will need this space in a few weeks. Careful when you go in. I’m not sure if Simone let the creatures loose or not.”

  Royce couldn’t risk losing another bird. Not if he planned to stay in contact with Bishop, since another reasonable choice hadn’t presented itself. Clumsily, he squeezed past the door into the shadowed space. Simone’s fragrance surrounded him, the musky undertones muddying his brain.

  She sat on the floor in the corner, grains, seeds, and berries to her side, spread out for the pigeons. They poked their heads through the metal slats in their cage and ate like gluttons. Chickens strutted freely, pecking their food.

  Simone stood. The hens scattered. “Are you all right?”

  Exhausted and aroused. “Fine.”

  “You’re bleeding again.”

  “Not much. You shouldn’t be doing this.”

  Her chin trembled. “What? Speaking to you? Asking questions? You want me to be silent and unseen?”

  He longed to be in her arms, comforted and warmed. Anchored to all the good he’d never really known. Her words proved true. This island had wonderful people. The best life had to offer. Nothing he deserved. “You’re a healer, not someone who tends chickens and birds. Peter should be doing this. Is he a lazy boy?”

  She lowered her face, hiding her smile. “A surly one. He thinks he knows everything. Too many times, Diana has promised to thrash h
im.”

  “Good for her. A proper man needs manners. Let me help you.” Eager to reach her, he strode recklessly.

  A hen flapped its wings, going right and left to escape his crutch, its squawk ear-piercing. The other chickens scattered, many getting in his way. He twisted to keep from falling.

  “Take care.” Simone slipped her arm around his waist, her precious breast pressed to his side.

  Surrendering to loneliness and enchantment, he leaned in, his face to her hair. The English countryside couldn’t compete with her blessed scent. Nature had met its equal in her. He nuzzled her glossy tresses. No matter how wrong and irrational his desire, for some reason he’d found home at her side.

  Pity he’d managed that too late.

  He should have moved away but hadn’t the will.

  She guided him to a bed nearly as large as the one in his chamber. This lavish room, like his, boasted a marble floor and whitewashed walls. A lovely place for a new life to take its first breath.

  She laid his crutch to the side. “Sit before you fall.” Gently, she pushed him on the silk-covered mattress.

  He made a show of falling down.

  Her laughter pealed through the room.

  Royce feigned insult. “Are you making light of me?”

  “Oui.”

  His laugh produced happy tears. “Have you no pity for a poor cripple?”

  “I have never seen a stronger man.” She held her hands behind her, breasts thrust out, and swayed her hips slowly.

  Aphrodite in the flesh. “Is that what you think of me?”

  “What I know. You survived a storm that nearly tore our isle from the earth and flung it into the sky. You are no mere man. You are close to a god.”

  He was a liar when honor demanded he do nothing to ruin anything here. He was a besotted fool when duty required he see to his family. His mother and sisters had no power to liberate themselves. Without his help, Katie, especially, would know nothing except a life spent in hard labor, cowering at harsh words, dreading the next beating or something equally horrible.

  Simone cupped his face. “What is it? Is the pain bad again?”

  The worse a man could face. Having to choose between angels: the one in here now with him, or those in his family who he’d been trying to save. “I’m fine.”

  “No. I see hurt and sadness. I need to make it better. Stay on the bed until I return.”

  He captured her wrist, his breath catching at her achingly soft skin. “Don’t let me cause you any trouble. Ignore me, please.”

  “Never.” She brushed her lips over his. “Argue with me and I will shoot you.”

  He laughed heartily, fearing if he didn’t he would cry.

  She blew him a kiss and slipped outside.

  Royce missed her instantly. Horribly. He pounded his fists into the mattress and muttered every oath he knew. He wanted to rip off his bandage and claw his ruined flesh, digging deep enough to reach a vessel, glorying in the spurting blood, his life slipping away.

  He didn’t deserve to live. He had no bloody right to die.

  The door flew open.

  Royce lifted his face.

  Peter growled. “Damnation.” He bolted after a chicken that escaped, tossed it back in the room, and ran down another. With it cradled in his arm, he sidled inside and slammed the door, trapping the rest.

  Thankfully, Peter’s foul mood and mouth were his only weapons.

  Royce relaxed somewhat. “What are you doing in here?”

  “Simone ordered me to cage your blasted hens and to clean up the mess she made.”

  “I’ll do it. Go on, you can leave.”

  “Not bloody likely. You have no idea what she’ll do if I defy her.”

  “Shoot you?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “She’ll tell Diana I enjoyed Laure when I should have studied. Once my nosy sister informs Tristan, he’ll make certain I never leave the library until I’m old like him and you.”

  “I’m hardly ancient.”

  “I’m a man.” Peter bounced on his heels, fists tight, face red. “Why can’t anyone here see that?”

  “They should, in time, when you’re as old as I am.”

  “I hardly want to wait that long.” Working quickly, he herded the chickens into their cage, snarling obscenities the entire time. He left briefly and returned, broom and cloths in one hand, a bucket in the other.

  He attacked his cleaning with more fervor than a dervish did a religious dance. His hard sweeping worked up dust clouds.

  Royce coughed.

  Peter scrubbed and dried the floor, leaving no dirt, debris, or water. “She’d better be satisfied with this.” He hauled the cages outside.

  “Wait a moment. Where are you going with Edward’s pets?”

  “A room off the kitchen where we keep supplies.”

  “Take care with them, please.”

  “What else? Simone would have my head if I hurt the precious things.” He tossed his cleaning tools outside and slammed the door behind himself.

  Children’s voices rose. Excited shrieks and laughter punctuated their words.

  “No, these aren’t for you to fool with,” Peter said. “They belong to someone else. Plenty of hens in the courtyard. Chase and pet them.”

  The din moved away from this area.

  Simone returned carrying a large silk sack. She regarded the room. “Did you help Peter?”

  “Not at all. I never budged from this spot.”

  She grinned. “Threatening him with Laure always works, and probably will until he slips the marriage collar around her throat. Then, even a gun to his head will be useless. Once she belongs to him, Diana will have no say in what they do.”

  “Marriage collar? You mean the leather ones with beads and the diamonds Diana wears?”

  “Oui. On this island, the collar shows a woman belongs to a man.” She sank to her knees beside him. “Remove your breeches.”

  Each breath she took made her breasts tremble. Her rich skin radiated heat warmer than the day. “Take them off completely?” His pulse pounded hard in his temples and throat. “Why?”

  “If I rip these, as I did your other ones, the women will have to make a new pair.”

  “I meant I can slip out of one leg so you can treat my wound.”

  “Oui, but your blood stained them. They need a good wash. Take them off and I can give them to Fantine.” Simone patted her sack. “I brought another pair with me.”

  He undressed.

  She regarded his cock, as erect as it had ever been. Perhaps more so. His skin felt close to splitting.

  “Sit.” She stroked his thigh.

  Riotous heat and pleasure billowed through him. He dropped to the mattress.

  She hurried to the door.

  “Should you open it now?”

  “Only to get the pitcher.”

  She brought the water inside and mixed a potion. “Drink.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “Herbs to lessen your pain.”

  He tasted the brew and held back a gag. “This is dreadful.”

  “No. Healing magic. While you were in your room, I asked Tristan to find a potion that would take away your hurt. He read it to me from his book.”

  Royce’s stomach rolled. “Are you certain it isn’t poison?” If Tristan had learned the shipwreck was a masquerade, death wouldn’t be far behind.

  She frowned. “We use the herbs to cook. They never make anyone sick.”

  “Excellent.” He drained the cup.

  She cleaned his wound. Surprisingly, it didn’t look as bad as he’d feared, the blood minimal, the scab larger. Her new poultice was a different color than the last, more brown than green. “Did you use the same ingredients?”

  “Today, I tried something different.” She placed leaves over the mess and wrapped a new bandage around his leg. “Is the pain still bad?”

  “Stings and throbs a b
it.”

  She washed and wiped her hands. “I have something to make you forget the hurt.”

  “Another potion?” He smiled weakly. “One that tastes sweet?”

  “No. This.”

  She buried her face in his thatch, one hand on his cock, the other, his balls.

  Chapter 5

  Royce dropped his cup. The world spun. Heat like nothing he’d experienced journeyed to his thighs and chest.

  Simone inhaled deeply, her resultant sigh followed by a throaty moan. Gently, she squeezed his sac, her touch firmer on his rod, strokes quick.

  He fell back, helpless as a newborn, unwilling and unable to stop her. His limbs were too weak, his need far beyond intense. She smelled of life. Her touch held hope he didn’t know existed.

  She licked his curls, then tugged them with her teeth.

  Joy bubbled inside him. He wanted to shout and carry on like a man gone mad. He could scarcely breathe, not caring if he ever drew a full breath again. She’d mentioned magic that healed. Of everything the world offered, nothing proved more miraculous than a woman honoring a man as she did him.

  She licked his crown and explored the bumpy skin on the back.

  Pleasure raged. The room lurched. He gripped the sheet.

  Her mouth was exquisitely hot, delightfully wet.

  She took his shaft inside.

  Rapture burst, then rolled in waves, too mighty for him to contain. He cupped her head and wrapped his legs around her, needing them to be close.

  Her lips slid down his length, her tongue bathing and teasing him as she descended.

  He was so hard his skin stung. Pain didn’t result, only immeasurable satisfaction.

  Her nose touched his pelt, his cock sheltered fully inside her mouth, her breath skipping over him.

  He struggled for control. This had to last an eternity. He wouldn’t settle for anything less.

  She released him in small measures, then glided down, imprisoning him.

  Each stroke tested his resolve to stall his release, her sweeping tongue impossible to resist.

  He ground his teeth and battled his crushing need. Her alluring fragrance washed over him, mocking his meager struggle.

  She caressed his sac and trapped his crown between her lips, suckling, licking, damning him to follow her lead. Her power greater than any he possessed.