Days of Desire

by Tina Donahue

Except the priest’s God.

  She’d lied earlier when she’d made light about coming inside. Deliberately angering any creator wasn’t wise, especially the priest’s, who was far sterner than the one her people believed in. Mère de l’homme, the greatest goddess of all, loved her children and wanted them to be happy on this isle before she cradled them in her arms and brought them home. Surely, such a kind being would look down on this room tonight and protect a man as worthy as Royce, along with a lowly subject like Simone, from the white god’s wrath.

  If only matters for her and Royce were how Diana and Tristan lived. Or James and Gavra, Zola and Adamo. Each man slept next to his woman every night. They never had to explain themselves to anyone or hide what their hearts demanded.

  No wonder Peter argued when Diana tried to keep him from Laure, preferring that he spend time studying his books. Not even an educated Englishwoman could believe words on paper were as wonderful as a lover in bed.

  Simone curled next to Royce, her hand on his tired shaft, his heat unable to brighten her mood. They couldn’t spend the night here or share the morning and rising sun. They had to hide their growing bond and steal away to be alone.

  When he left the isle, the others would pity her. Some would accuse, saying she gave herself to the wrong man. That would be her easiest burden because they’d be wrong.

  If Royce had no choice except to stay, he’d never forgive himself for not helping his mother and sisters. His guilt and grief would change him, keeping her from his heart.

  She squeezed her eyes. Their love had seemed simple when their lips first met. Now though…

  Simone prayed to every god she knew for a solution that would serve all, begging forgiveness for her sins from the white god, pleading with her people’s deity to grant her hope.

  Wind rushed inside, ruffling the silk sheet. A good omen. Someone had heard her.

  Content, she lost herself in Royce’s warmth, his quiet breathing lulling her to sleep.

  * * * *

  “Simone.”

  Her eyes flew open. Royce loomed above her, his face shadowed like the room. She clutched his arm. “Is someone in the hall? Do they want to come in?”

  “No. But we best go to our own rooms before anyone does show up here or peeks into the windows.”

  “My people would never do that. They would knock down the door first.”

  He laughed.

  She couldn’t, missing him already. “How can we leave now? We barely enjoyed each other. You sleep too much.”

  His smile disappeared, a slight frown forming. “That’s hardly the proper way to make a man feel worthy.”

  “You are. If you were less than that, I would never want you to wake. Since you’re far more, I feel sad when you close your eyes.”

  “Forgive me for doing so, but I can’t keep them open or find enough strength to speak when you wear me out. Not that I’m complaining about your zeal, but we must leave this room at once. I don’t want anyone cross with you.”

  “What is zeal?”

  “What you do in bed with me.”

  She hugged him. “I will do it again. I like this zeal.”

  “As I do, but we have the islanders to think of.”

  “Why? They have their own beds.”

  He pulled her hands away. “This is the priest’s chamber. You and I don’t care about being here, but others will if they knew.” Royce left the bed. “We need to go.”

  “And hide what we do.”

  He tossed her cloth. “This is your home. You have to live with these people. It’s not wise to push them into a confrontation or fuel what anger they already have.”

  “After we leave here, when will we be together as we are now? When the sun rises? When it sets? Do you ever want to see me?”

  “You know I do.” He pointed. “Never ask that or pretend you don’t know my feelings.”

  “I love you too.” She knotted the silk. “When will you help me with the potion books again and teach me to read?”

  “Not right away, even though I want to. When Adamo and I worked together, he asked me to help rebuild his house. I promised I would. While the weather holds, the men need to do whatever they can to repair what the storm damaged.”

  She lowered her face, hiding her sadness.

  He lifted her chin and kissed her lightly. “It won’t be long before we’ll be spending our days together as we have. For now though, I’ll read to you after sundown, and show you the alphabet. Those are the letters that form words, which create sentences, then paragraphs and chapters, then books, or letters, the kind people send to each other.”

  He knew too much. “I want to understand what you say, but your words confuse me.”

  “My fault, not yours. What I said is I’ll teach you everything. I promise your reading lessons will be a great improvement over the dancing ones. Does that make you feel better?”

  “I want to do the dancing again.”

  “We shall.” He lifted her into his arms and turned in quick circles.

  Simone pressed her face against his hair to quiet her laughter, her joy renewed.

  Once she settled, Royce kissed her as a man would when he wanted more dancing and love, but also put her down. “Go.” He turned her to the door and pushed gently. “I’ll leave after you.”

  She padded backward down the hall, bumping into walls and doors, hoping to see him leave the chamber. Disappointed, she rounded a corner and ran into Gavra.

  Simone jumped back.

  Gavra grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the room where she and James slept.

  “Let me go.”

  She tightened her grip. “We must talk.”

  “When the sun rises. Not now. I want to sleep.”

  Gavra reached the chamber and pushed Simone inside. She pivoted and tried to get past. Gavra shut the door, blocking it. “I will never forgive myself for taking the pirate to your hiding place after your family died.”

  They’d never talked about that day. Simone hadn’t pressed, not wanting to bring up terrible memories. “He forced you. He raped you.”

  Tears spilled over Gavra’s lids. “I was your friend. I should have protected you.”

  Simone pulled her close. “You are my friend. You did everything you could. I should have been there for you and killed him and the others who…” Her throat tightened, not letting her speak.

  Gavra held Simone’s face. “Listen to me, please. From that day on, I promised to look after you so no harm would come. The Englishman—”

  “No.” Simone pulled away. “Never say anything unkind about him. Royce is a good man.”

  “He’s English.”

  “So are James and Tristan.”

  “Both are here for life. They can never leave. Royce can and will.”

  Simone turned away, arms wrapped around herself, the chill in her soul making her tremble. “I know. But he’s here today and tomorrow. The storms will return. He has to stay until they leave for good.”

  “And when he does? Will you go with him?”

  She’d never fit in his world. One look at Diana would tell any islander what England and London were like. Women covered themselves. They had pale skin and spoke a language Simone couldn’t hope to understand. “This is my home. I stay here.”

  “Alone. Unless he puts a child in your belly.”

  She shrugged.

  “Simone.” Gavra embraced her. “You’re more sister to me than the ones I have, especially Laure. She never listens to me about Peter. She keeps promising to make him a man.”

  “Oh, poor Laure. Poor Peter.”

  They giggled and hugged. Simone wept as Gavra did, happy to make their friendship strong again. Gavra smelled of cinnamon and the bread she made, comforting scents that reminded Simone of when there hadn’t been any walls between them. “I never planned to fall in love with Royce. It happened before I had a choice. Like you and James.”

  “
He’s always been good to me and the islanders.”

  “Royce has done nothing wrong. Well, maybe tonight. You have to forgive him for trying to teach us his foolish dance.”

  Gavra laughed so hard her face turned scarlet. “You kept tripping over your feet.”

  “Me? You jumped up and down like you were trying to get away from a snake.”

  “I was doing the curtsy.” She bounced on her heels.

  “No. You bend one knee and then the other.” Simone showed her.

  They fell against each other, struggling for breath from their newest laughter.

  Simone quieted first and smoothed Gavra’s hair. “We must never argue again. Promise me. I missed you.”

  “I wept every day. James told me to talk to you. I was too proud.”

  “We both were.” She kissed Gavra’s hand. “I promise not to be too sad when Royce goes away. Until then, please be happy for me.”

  “I want to. But…”

  “He’ll never hurt me or anyone else on this island. I promise.”

  * * * *

  Given the simple construction, Royce had no trouble helping to rebuild Adamo’s house. The task took him and another man two days. With only occasional sprinkles or gentle showers, they repaired three others over the following week. Tristan, James, and Peter tended the animals. The men who worked the fields harvested what they could and looked to the future rather than worrying about ruined crops.

  After their lovemaking, Royce kept falling asleep on Simone, their passion keeping him from teaching her anything except how to please them carnally. Tristan’s words proved true. Royce was an abominable teacher, forgetting everything except pleasure.

  The returning storms would change that. A dark and menacing cloudbank rolled past the horizon, on its way toward the isle. In the opposite direction, blue sky stretched endlessly, sun blazing above the turquoise water. If he’d had the power, Royce would have captured the scene in a bottle for him and Simone to gaze at during the coming days.

  At least the priest’s chamber remained free, no one chasing them from there. Even Gavra had stopped frowning at him, though her rigid civility wasn’t much better. When he’d asked Simone if they’d spoken, she’d laughed. “About your dance.”

  Pity he hadn’t introduced Gavra to the steps earlier. She might actually smile by now.

  Finished with thatching Phillipe’s roof, Royce bid the man farewell and ran to the mansion. Wind picked up, scooping dead leaves into the air, rustling branches. Butterflies scattered. Lemurs settled more deeply into the trees, seeking shelter.

  The clouds rolled in faster than he could run, half the sky already darkened and bruised. A fine shower sprayed his face. Sun beat against his back.

  In the courtyard, mothers grabbed their children and hurried them into the building. Clutching his side, Royce slumped against the storeroom doorway. Rays shone on his face. Plump raindrops fell. Something dropped at his feet.

  He flinched and backed up.

  A bird traipsed right and left in front of him, its head bobbing, a metal container on its leg.

  Stunned, he held the creature to his chest and rushed into the room. The blasted thing couldn’t have returned after all this time without delivering his message. Bishop would be enraged at no contact. Days or weeks might pass before Royce had a chance to send another bird.

  He checked the tube. Its top was askew. A paper inside. Not the quality he’d used but thinner.

  He’d heard of birds homing between two points, as long as they were fed at each, but hadn’t believed it until now. His hands shook, making it difficult for him to remove the cylinder.

  Once he put the creature in its cage, he unrolled the paper.

  R. H.

  Secure the chart. Send location immediately. Your mother and sisters are depending upon this.

  Fail me and I will see to their fates.

  B. B.

  Chapter 11

  Rain beat softly against the glass above the dining table, the storm lulled to a shower.

  Royce didn’t hope for a clear day tomorrow or in the near future. Even if the weather grew fair, he had no idea how to access the bloody charts. Diana and Peter were usually in the library on pleasant days, more so when they couldn’t go outside.

  “Do you want this or not?” Tristan shook the tray holding the roasted beef.

  “Yes, of course.” Royce speared two slices and dropped them on his plate. He had no stomach for food or this evening ritual but had little choice except to endure. “Thank you.”

  James filled and lit another oil lamp. Gavra winked at him, poured his tea, then saw to everyone else’s.

  Royce emptied his cup. The pleasant brew didn’t comfort him in the least. His mouth remained dry, swallowing difficult.

  “Something wrong with your beef?”

  At Tristan’s question, Royce shook his head. “It’s quite good.”

  “You’ve yet to taste it.”

  “It looks juicy and tender, the same as always.” He cut a piece and slipped it into his mouth. “Excellent.”

  Tristan exchanged a glance with James. “One would think you’d have a heartier appetite considering the labor you did today. How did things go at Philippe’s?”

  “I finished his roof before the clouds arrived. Hopefully, the thatch will hold during the next storm. Are you predicting this newest one will last as long as the other?”

  “I have no idea. Nature does what she wants without consulting me.”

  Peter chuckled.

  Diana passed the bread to Tristan. “Perhaps you should leave Royce to his meal and ask my brother about his studies today.”

  “Fine with me. What happened?”

  Peter straightened, shoulders squared. “Nothing. Once the rain started, I stayed in the library without pause. If tomorrow proves to be the same as today, I shan’t budge from my chair in there. I’ll stay clear through the night and read every book on the shelves.”

  Royce gripped his fork, nails dug into his palm.

  “Capital, Peter, and bravo to you.” Tristan raised his teacup in a toast. “To what do we owe your admirable, yet sudden, dedication to your lessons?”

  “Laure.” Diana selected a banana. “She insists Peter follow your lead in learning everything he can so she can boast about him to the other women.”

  “Smart girl. I hope you’ve thanked her as you should, Peter.”

  “How could I?” He rubbed his neck, the skin as red as his face. “I’ve been stuck in the library looking at books, not her. Even if I was free to roam about, Gavra is keeping her busy in the kitchen.”

  James scooped fish onto his plate. “Putting together a meal is quite a chore. You should try it sometime. On second thought, stay far away from there and don’t let Gavra hear you complain about Laure’s new tasks. She’s needed in the kitchen. I’m quite sure she’ll appear at your side at midnight or so.”

  Tristan and Diana struggled not to laugh.

  Royce prayed they were only teasing Peter. Surely, he stopped at a reasonable hour given his hatred for books. “How long into the night do you usually study?”

  “Until I finish my work. Those are the new rules I must abide by.”

  “Perhaps I can assist if you have questions. Speed things up.”

  Interest registered on Peter’s face. “That would help. Once it’s dark, Tristan’s never around. Diana keeps him in their chamber.”

  Her face and throat went as red as Peter’s had, matching her silk gown.

  Royce turned to Tristan. “Do you mind me helping out?”

  “Shouldn’t you be doing so with Simone?”

  He’d forgotten mentioning his plan to teach her. “I will. I can do both.”

  “Why would you want to?” James asked. “Haven’t we given you enough work repairing and rebuilding the islanders’ homes?”

  “Those tasks are at an end until the weather clears.”

 
James clucked his tongue. “The storm doesn’t allow anyone to remain idle. You can work in here. The storage area needs a good scrubbing. So does the room where we keep the excess furniture.”

  Royce fought frustration and panic. “Surely those projects aren’t as important as expanding one’s mind. I can begin with Peter this evening. Do you agree, Tristan?”

  “Do what you must. But he completes his assignments, not you for him.”

  “Understood.” Royce pushed out of his chair. “We can start now.”

  Peter scrunched his face. “I’ve yet to finish my meal. You’ve barely touched yours.”

  He sank back down.

  James watched the scene. “Odd.”

  Diana glanced up. “What is?”

  He held Royce’s gaze. “Many things.”

  * * * *

  James’s comment unsettled Royce as much as having the man’s pistol aimed at his heart. Either James had been teasing good-naturedly or his suspicion had mounted as to Royce’s true purpose here.

  He welcomed his escape to the library until he and Peter sat down to work.

  Peter was a horrible pupil, unable to keep still for a moment. He drummed his fingers, squirmed, bounced his legs, and glanced at the hall every time footfalls sounded.

  Royce stood.

  Peter’s face brightened. “Are we through?”

  “No.” At this pace, they’d never be. The charts were maddeningly close yet out of reach as long as anyone was in here with him, curious as to why he’d want to see the damn things. He shut the door. “Fewer distractions will hurry things along.”

  Peter shoved his book away. “I hate Latin. Can’t use it for anything on this isle. It’s completely useless.”

  “Until you need to read Tristan’s books on agriculture and animal health. What’s going to happen once he’s gone and you need that information to keep this island prosperous and the people fed?”

  “That’s not going to happen for at least a few years.”

  Peter already had Royce and Tristan in their graves. “Do you want to still be doing these lessons when you’re my age? You know, ancient.”

  “Hell no. Can’t you hurry things along for me as you promised at the table?”