Days of Desire

by Tina Donahue

  Tristan considered how he’d respond if he found himself in Royce’s place. Stranded on an isle in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by armed strangers. He probably would have behaved the same. “He has no weapon, nor means of leaving and telling anyone anything. Even if the other islanders agree to take him to Mozambique, which may be doubtful, they’d blindfold him so he couldn’t reveal where this island or the others are. He’s not a mariner who knows the route the captain took. For good measure, we could threaten to run him down if he ever opens his mouth about us being here. He doesn’t strike me as a man who’s had experience besting pirates. We can cow and confuse him easily.”

  The din in the kitchen quieted.

  Diana crossed her arms over the table. “So you don’t trust him completely? What about you, James?”

  “I’m staying out of this.”

  Tristan laughed. “That’s no answer.”

  “Very well. Gavra doesn’t like him.”

  “With good reason, given what the pirates did to her. That said, she’s not you.” Tristan slumped in his chair. “What are your thoughts?”

  “I have no complaints about the man. He’s eager to work and did bring up what I’d said earlier about him toiling in the fields or tending the pigs. He didn’t have to tell you that. I sure as hell wouldn’t have even though I’m no stranger to hard labor.”

  “That’s probably why you’d react differently than he had.” Tristan wiggled his eyebrows. “I can’t picture him wrestling a pig.”

  Peter laughed. “Want to know what I think?”

  Tristan leveled his gaze on him, tired of Peter repeatedly goading Diana. “You should be in the library by now doing your lessons. And I do mean schoolwork, not running off to enjoy Laure. Don’t make me tell you again.”

  Peter’s face and throat colored. “No, sir.” Shoulders slumped, he dragged from the room.

  Diana sighed. “Will he ever grow up?”

  “In time. Everyone does. We’ll have to muddle through with him as we’ll eventually do when our babes come. Why don’t you trust Royce?”

  “I… It’s not that I don’t. I worry about Simone. You saw how she looks at him.”

  “And he at her.”

  “They’re going to use the birthing room for far more than her healing and his lessons. What happens when he leaves?”

  “He may not.”

  “Then what happens when he’s forced to stay here but wants to return home? I see nothing but tragedy in this for them.”

  Tristan pressed her palm to his cheek. “That’s the risk one takes when attraction overrules good sense.”

  “Unless love blossoms.”

  “Yes, there is that.”

  * * * *

  Royce hated that Gavra’s unpleasant comments had ruined Simone’s good mood. However, he couldn’t argue with Gavra’s assessment of the man he was or her logic in wanting to keep Simone far from him. Simone had no business spending time at his side, hoping for something that couldn’t be.

  If he got her and the others out of this mess, along with rescuing his mother and sisters, he’d disappear next. Didn’t matter to where, as long as he posed no threat to anyone ever again.

  Simone scuffed her foot over the storage room floor, the kitchen close enough for muffled conversation to drift in here. Gavra spoke louder than the others did, though low enough to mask her words.

  Simone glanced over, head cocked.

  He hunkered near his birds. They strutted to and fro endlessly, as he would if caged. He eyed the sturdiest and the runt. “Oh no.”

  Simone joined him on the floor. “What is it?”

  “The largest one to the right. It doesn’t seem as well as the last time I saw it.”

  “How can you tell? They all look sturdy to me.”

  They were. He had no choice except to lie. “It wobbled a second ago. I noticed one of the other birds doing that on the Sea Sprite. It perished before the storm hit.”

  “Do you think what we find in Tristan’s books will help this one get better?”

  “Doubtful. That’s for people, not creatures. It may die.” That would provide an excellent explanation as to why he had one less bird, and might prove more convincing to Tristan than the thing having flown away.

  Which it would once he slipped his message in one of the tubes Bishop had provided for this scheme. Royce had brought them here for the bird’s leg. He’d put the cylinders in a pouch and buried it on the beach long before Simone had discovered him. All he had to do was get to them.

  Another hurdle to surmount.

  She poked her finger through the cage. “We should give it more to eat and extra water. Maybe the poor thing is simply weak.”

  “Perhaps, but please don’t get your hopes up. We can only do the best we can.”

  He fed the creatures and hens quickly, then transferred them to another container so he could clean their cages.

  Finished, he rubbed his hands on his breeches. “Before we get the books, I’d like you to show me the bushes where you gather the healing leaves and the other items for your poultices.” With any luck, they were close to the beach.

  She made a face. “In the rain? We should wait.”

  “The weather might not improve for days. We can use cowhide like Adamo did to stay dry.” He pressed his mouth to her ear. “We can also be alone there, even more so than in the birthing room.”

  She slipped her arms around him. “Oui.”

  “Wait a moment. We can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “If Adamo and the others guard my room, surely they do the same with the beach. Tristan seems quite worried about anyone coming to the isle.”

  “He is, and the men do watch, but not in this weather. James told Gavra only a fool would sail in fog with so much wind and rain. How would they see?”

  “They couldn’t.” This opportunity was too good to miss. All he had to do was convince Simone to go to the beach.

  He hated deceiving her. However, with her eventual freedom at stake, he had little choice. “Where do they keep the cowhides?”

  “We have pig skins too. Much smaller and they weigh less.” She gathered two in light brown and handed him one.

  He stroked her cheek. “Let’s make this fun, shall we?”

  “After I show you the bushes?”

  “Oui.”

  “Are we going to the birthing room then?”

  “I have another place in mind. A surprise.” He placed the skin over her head, did the same with his, and took her hand.

  Wind whipped his shirt and her cloth, rain lashing in great sheets, the temperature mild and sticky. Thankfully, it wasn’t lightning. He pulled her close, protecting her from the worst of the shower.

  They dashed into the nearby forest, the heavy vegetation serving as a protective canopy.

  Sodden hair clung to her shoulders and breasts, the silk to her luscious legs. Laughing, she tossed the pigskin aside. “That did no good keeping me dry.”

  “You’re lovely wet.”

  “You are too.” She sagged against him and suckled his throat.

  Her tongue warmed him better than spirits ever had and stoked his desire.

  “You need another shave.” She touched his cheek. “You should let me see to the task. While I do, you can rest for your other work.”

  “What say we try that in the birthing room when no one’s watching?”

  “With our clothes off?”

  “Is there any other way?”

  Giggling, she broke free and ran ahead. He caught up easily, his arm around her waist.

  “Here.” She pointed at the bushes in front.

  “What is that?”

  “Healing leaves. Periwinkle.” She swung her arm to the side. “Over there are other plants I use.” She indicated another direction. “And those are special herbs.”

  Royce padded to the periwinkle. Despite heavy fog, he could see faint out
lines below, indicating the point and beach. Beneath the rain patter and wind, the surf churned. “Is this where you were when you first saw me?”

  “Oui. I was gathering new leaves after I tended to Henri’s hand.”

  Royce turned into Simone and cupped her face. Raindrops clung to her lashes and rolled down her smooth cheeks. She regarded him with such trust and affection, he lost his resolve, wanting to confess everything, yet terrified to do so. His plan to put Bishop off for the time being had to work. “Were you afraid when you saw me?”

  “I worried for you. I feared you had died or might.”

  “We should go down there now.”

  “Why?”

  “To show nature I survived when she wanted me dead.” He pressed his face to Simone’s hair. Her scent filled him, a seductive mixture boasting sweet flowers, fresh air, and cooling rain. “To celebrate you rescuing me. Come on.”

  He pulled her to the point and down the path. The surf broke higher than when she discovered him here, but posed no danger. Shielding her, he chose an area close to where he buried the tubes, the forest sufficiently thick to give them cover.

  Panting, she sagged against a trunk.

  Royce untied her drenched cloth and peeled it from her.

  She smiled wantonly. “Is this the fun you spoke of?”

  “Not yet…not until I have you exactly as I want.”

  “How is that?”

  “As my prisoner, captive for my use.”

  She looked at her cloth.

  He rolled it to resemble a rope. “Put out your hands, wrists together.”

  Chapter 7

  Simone smiled, liking this. “Are you going to tie my hands?”

  “Oui. Then I’ll secure them to a branch to keep you from moving until I allow it.”

  Warmth gathered in her belly and dipped to her cleft. “You need to do that to keep me close to you? You have no faith in my desire?”

  “I wonder about your resolve to submit to what I have planned.”

  Her skin burned from excitement, not shame. “And what is that?”

  “Obey me now and you’ll see.”

  She offered her hands and her entire being to him, thrilled at this game.

  He tied the silk around her wrists, loose enough to be comfortable, though tight, too, to keep her from pulling free. She wouldn’t, eager to be his prisoner, naked and helpless for him to use as he desired.

  Her nipples puckered, the tips hard enough to hurt. A lovely feeling.

  Royce eased into her, their hips joined, his shaft hard and long against her thigh.

  She pressed closer. “When are you going to take off your shirt and breeches?”

  “Your nudity is all I need.” He lifted her arms and bound the cloth to a branch.

  Finished, he stepped back, hands on his hips, strong legs parted. A conqueror’s stance. Leisurely, he raked his gaze over her, taking in her breasts, belly, and mound. What he had owned from the moment they’d met.

  For him, she didn’t mind being a slave to passion. They’d been born for each other and this. No one could tell her otherwise. What he’d said in the stone house about wanting to leave wasn’t true. His eyes had shown her the truth in his heart. “You stare.”

  “As is my right. Part your legs.”

  She pushed her feet over the spongy ground.

  “Wider.”

  Air licked the dampness between her legs, her sheath glutted and pining for his touch.

  Fog swirled, enclosing them within its gauzy embrace. Behind him, rain poured steadily, adding another barrier to the outside world, making this moment and place theirs alone.

  Royce dropped to one knee, hands heavy and hot on her hips. He looked up.

  Hair clung to his forehead and cheeks. Lust burned in his eyes. “I intend to indulge in your womanly charms for as long as I wish. Your soft folds and cunt are mine to master and own. You will not allow yourself release. You’ll endure until I grant you completion. Each time you come close to relief, I’ll stop and will begin anew until you can’t bear the wait any longer. Do you understand?”

  Her need was already too much. One touch from him and she’d soar as she had the last time. She had no chance to win against his rules, yet if she did, she’d experience an even greater prize.

  He stroked her cleft.

  Delight sped through her. She pushed to her toes and trembled.

  “Say you understand, Simone.”

  “I do.”

  “And you’ll obey?”

  “Oui. Touch me again where you should. I beg you.”

  “In time.” He pressed his face to her curls and stroked the furrow between her cheeks.

  Pleasure crept close.

  He circled her tightest opening.

  Tingles raced to her sheath, leaving it heavy and wanting. She clenched her teeth to fight her response. Ignoring her soaring need wasn’t possible.

  Gently, he probed her anus and licked her nub.

  Heat shot to her face. Craving consumed her. She tugged on her bounds.

  Royce stopped, face to her cleft, his breath grazing her.

  Simone dug her nails into her palms. “You must continue.”

  “No. I told you my rules and you broke them.”

  “I was far from relief. Too far.”

  “You tried to get free. That’s not allowed. Now, you have to wait for more pleasure.” He tongued her slit, missing the most sensitive part. He tugged her hair with his teeth, giving her no contentment, only a smile. He sniffed repeatedly, pulling in her scent.

  Not once did he lick her nub or touch her other opening. Instead, he squeezed her buttocks.

  Frustrated, she pushed close, forcing him to stroke and tongue the parts that mattered most.

  He pulled back. “Again, you defy me. Very well. I’ll wait until you obey.” He speared his tongue into her navel.

  She laughed and squirmed. “That tickles.”

  “I suppose that’s allowed.” He licked her belly.

  She bounced. “Between my legs, please. I promise to be good.”

  “I never said I wanted that.” He latched on to her nub, spread her cheeks, and stroked her anus.

  Her knees sagged, but she also endured as he’d commanded. For a little while.

  True to his word, each time she stiffened, preparing for release, he stopped and rubbed his face to her furry mound or kissed her scar. The moment she settled, he resumed his unending torment, never licking her more than a few times before pausing. Drawing her release close, letting it slip away.

  Perspiration coated her face, throat, and chest, soaking her more than the rain. Her musk scented the air, her hunger for relief intolerable. She couldn’t breathe enough to satisfy her craving.

  He stopped and rested his face against her belly.

  Drained and defeated, she sagged against the trunk.

  Royce held her tightly and dipped to her slit, enjoying her as the slave she was to his passion and love.

  His tender licks and gentle strokes undid her, the pressure between her legs mounting, searching for escape.

  She fought it, resolved to do what he wished.

  He increased his pace, then slowed, keeping her from knowing what his next move would be.

  She dug her toes in the ground but remained open and helpless to him.

  He breathed as hard as she did, their sounds drowning out the rain and surf.

  One lick became two, three, a countless number she couldn’t keep up with. Release slammed into her. She shuddered but didn’t beg him to stop as she had the last time. Submissively, she endured his intimate moves.

  Royce worked her tirelessly, the bliss he created far too intense.

  Her head fell down, knees buckled.

  He stood, his arm supporting her, mouth on her nipple, each lick too acute.

  New pleasure battered Simone, settling into a gentle hum that relieved and warmed. She was too limp to
stand, too eager for more to deny him anything.

  He used her breasts and nipples well, then sank to his knees and reclaimed her mound.

  * * * *

  If Royce tasted her every day, hour, and minute through eternity, it would never be enough. Her scent was in his blood, her labored breathing and deep moans the only music he wanted to hear.

  She could barely remain on her feet and still he couldn’t stop. If not for the blasted tubes, he would have savored her until darkness fell.

  On his feet, he untied her bounds. She collapsed into his arms.

  He wished he could always be there to catch her and bring her to this point. “What’s this? You seem tired.”

  “No. Now, I pleasure you.”

  “First, you rest.” He eased her to the tree and pulled off his clothes. They were wet, but clean. He spread out his breeches for her to lie on. Once she’d curled on her side, her back to him, he draped his shirt over her and stroked her ear. “Sleep.”

  Her lips moved but no words sounded.

  He didn’t dare glance away lest she wake and see what he did. On all fours, he crawled backward, running into bushes and a trunk before reaching the spot he needed.

  Her shoulders rose and fell with her gentle breathing.

  Rain needled his face. He dug in the loam, hitting roots and rocks, not his small pouch. His chest tightened. Surely, Tristan or the others hadn’t found the tubes. If they had, Tristan would have known what the birds were for and Royce would be dead.

  Desperately, he clawed mud and sand, terrified what failure would mean. His next chance to come here might not be for weeks, making Bishop restless for action from another man. Sending an uncovered message to Bishop was unthinkable. Moisture or rain would ruin the ink. The binding might come loose, and the bird lose the paper during flight.

  Royce dug deeper and had to take time to cover the spot before moving on. Simone would surely want to know why there were now holes in the ground where they hadn’t been before. He edged to the right and tried there. Nothing. The same on the left. In front, he touched something soft yet solid.