by Susan Grant
“You are sad,” Maria said.
Carly shrugged. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”
“We will return to my choupana to sleep.” The woman urged her to her feet with motherly bossiness. “Up, up, now. I will help you dress.”
The towel fell away as Carly lifted her arms. Maria swathed her in the silk she’d brought along, wrapping it around her torso twice, fastening it with a knot, and tucking the loose ends between her breasts. Carly smoothed her hands over the scarlet and lavender dress as Maria stepped back to admire her handiwork.
“Much nicer than trousers, yes?”
“It’s gorgeous. I wish I had more to hold it up, though,” Carly said wryly, tugging on the knot at her chest.
Maria made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Why do you concern yourself with this? Leila gives me the same trouble.”
“She’s thirteen,” Carly retorted. “She’s supposed to look that way.”
Maria rolled her eyes. “I did not mean to compare you to Leila. Yours are the curves of a woman, not a young girl.”
“No offense taken. I was joking. That’s how I look past things that bother me—I laugh about them.”
Maria curled a finger under Carly’s chin. “My early years were not easy. I, too, used laughter the way you do. It was not until Leila was born that I learned to see only what I have, not what I do not.” She lifted Carly’s hair and let it fall slowly over her shoulders. “So beautiful. You know this? Like angel hair.”
“Thank you,” Carly squeezed past a lump in her throat. Maria reminded her vividly of her mother. For once, Carly did not flee from the memory and its sharp pang of grief. Instead, she held it close, savoring the image of her mother before tucking it away.
She and Maria resumed their walk along the path to the village. “After we rest,” the woman said, “I will help prepare the feast.”
Carly perked up. “A feast?”
“To celebrate the return of our men. We will eat and dance until the rising sun sends us to our beds. Unless, of course, our lovers do first.”
Carly immediately thought of Andrew, and her cheeks heated.
Maria noticed. “Ah! You have a special man.”
“I do . . . I think.”
“By sunrise you will know,” she said pointedly, linking her arm with Carly’s. “I will weave flowers in your hair, like I do for Leila. You will change into a different dress, too. I know the very one. It is the color of cinnamon, with threads of real gold woven through. You may use my scents, my jewelry, anything you want.”
Carly yawned. “Sorry.”
“You did not sleep well last night, did you?”
“Only an hour or two.”
“The man in question kept you awake?”
Carly felt herself blush. “Yeah, you could say that.” There would be no keeping secrets from this woman.
“All the more reason to rest. Tonight will bring you anything but sleep. Night on this island is magic, and from magic comes love, yes?”
“That’s what I’m hoping.”
Laughing throatily, Maria squeezed her arm. “Kiss him once under the stars, and your man will not be able to resist you.”
Carly grinned. She couldn’t wait to test Maria’s theory.
Chapter Fifteen
Carly gazed at the swath of night sky visible through the palm trees. No wonder Maria called the nights here magic. The sky was glazed with countless stars strewn across a backdrop of fathomless black.
More than enough to make wishes on.
As smoke from the torches blurred the sky, Carly returned her attention to the party. Jonesy’s energetic fiddling was a treat. It was the first time he’d played since being injured. Those not dancing couldn’t help but tap toes, clap, or sing along to the music.
She swayed in place to the tune, feeling utterly feminine. Her skin was perfumed with scented soap and she’d woven flowers into her hair. She’d seen no need to borrow more than a pair of hoop earrings; Maria’s elegant gold-trimmed, cinnamon-hued wrap was adornment enough.
A dress worn with . . . nothing underneath.
Carly had never been a go-out-dancing-with-no-panties kind of person; it had never even entered her mind. What a shame. This was so incredibly sexy and liberating. Her entire body tingled, and she was aware of every blessed nerve, every pore.
It wasn’t as though she’d intentionally set out to attend the dance half-naked, but her homemade muslin underwear kept bunching up under the dress, forcing her to remove them. Now all there was between her bare skin and the outside world was an utterly inconsequential wisp of silk.
“Where is the cap’n?” Gibbons asked.
One end of Carly’s mouth edged up. She couldn’t think of a better reason to be half-naked. “Haven’t seen him since we got here. He is on the island, isn’t he?”
“Aye, milady. He’s here.” Gibbons exchanged a meaningful glance with his wife.
Maria, in turn, winked at her.
Carly frowned. She’d bet Gibbons, the snitch, had told his wife that he caught her and Andrew in an embrace. “Think he’ll grace us with his company, Mr. Gibbons?”
“Aye. I saw him bathing by the falls earlier.”
Carly conjured a vivid image of water rushing over Andrew’s suntanned, muscular body. “Sorry I missed that,” she said under her breath.
Maria gave a conspiratorial grin but did not reveal what she’d overheard.
Carly said gratefully, “You have a wonderful wife, Mr. Gibbons.”
“She is that.” Gibbons put his arm around Maria’s waist. “She keeps me young.”
“Young enough to dance?” Maria prompted.
Grinning broadly, Gibbons led his wife toward the music.
Carly’s stomach rumbled. Maneuvering around a group of giggling children, two squawking roosters, and a shaggy, flea-bitten dog, she made her way to a table literally sagging under the weight of food. The roasted pig was still steaming, its skin blackened and crisp, its lips curled around a mango.
“Sorry about what happened,” Carly said, helping herself to a piece of pork. She laid it on a plate, which was an oval wooden slab. She added a small fish roasted with fins and head still attached, chunks of mango, baked yams, plantains, and a delicious, grainy flat bread fried in the same rich palm oil as the plantains.
She returned to her spot by the dance area. Bathed in wavering torchlight, she tuned out the sounds of the party, luxuriating in the exotic spices, textures, and scents of her dinner. She made the meal a sensual experience, drawing out the pleasure. When she’d consumed every last crumb, save the fins, tail, and fish head she’d tossed to the dog, she mopped up the last of the pork juices with a piece of fried bread.
Setting her plate on the ground, she scanned the crowd. There were no masts or coils of rope for Andrew to hide behind this time. So where was he?
Theo approached her and asked her to dance. Scrubbed clean, his hair neatly combed, he was trying very hard to look grown up.
“I’d never pass up the chance to dance with such a handsome man,” she said.
His cheeks reddened—as she knew they would—and he offered her his arm. On the dance floor, Theo’s confidence returned, and he led her through a lively waltz.
“You ought to ask Leila to dance,” she said when the music stopped,
“Leila?” A flush made its way up his neck.
“Yes, you silly goose. Leila. Maria’s daughter.” Carly lowered her voice. “She’s had her eye on you.”
Theo’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
In a surge of affection, Carly squeezed his hand. “Get used to it, kiddo. You’re so darling, you’re going to have to beat the girls away with sticks.”
“Think so?”
“I know so.”
Theo glanced speculatively in Leila’s direction.
As another tune began, Carly steered Theo off the dance floor. Leila sat next to her mother. Her hair was scraped back from her face and hung loose down her back in a w
ild mass of black curls. She stared straight ahead, her hands clasped primly in her lap, her posture erect. One bare foot tapped to the beat.
“Ask her,” Carly whispered, giving Theo a gentle push. She couldn’t hear what transpired between the two but was relieved to see Leila bashfully clasp Theo’s hand. With the smug satisfaction of a successful matchmaker, Carly watched the young couple move away.
A pair of dark blue eyes watched her intently from across the dance area. Andrew’s eyes. Her physical reaction to him was immediate. Her skin warmed, and she tingled low in her belly.
He inclined his head slightly. His slate-gray cutaway coat and white shirt, with a starched, stand-up collar and a snowy cravat was more suited to a Regency-era ball in London than a tropical island, but in that uncanny way of his, he managed to look cool and composed.
His long-legged strides quickly erased the distance between them. At his charming best, he bowed, his boots gleaming in the torchlight. “Milady.”
“Hi,” she said softly.
Holding her gaze, he lifted her hand to his lips. He was freshly shaven, and she caught a whiff of soap along with his familiar scent. He kissed her palm, then the inside of her wrist. Goose bumps prickled her arms.
“Miss Callahan,” he said, “may I have the pleasure of this dance?”
“A . . . dance?”
He waved in the direction of the dance floor as though she were the densest individual on Earth.” ’Tis where I get to hold you close as the music plays. Dancing,” he enunciated. “Surely you’ve done it before. In fact, I have seen you engaged in such a manner numerous times.”
“You said you couldn’t dance.”
“Ah, that.” He scuffed his boot heels in the dirt. “God’s truth, Carly, I wanted to dance with you that night. More than you can imagine. I did not, because one dance would not have been enough. I’d have wanted another and another—” He paused to stare at her mouth. “Then, if I kissed you,” he said on an exhalation, “I’d have wanted another and another.”
Carly’s tingles roared into a full-scale conflagration.
“Since you were promised to another man—or so I’d thought—I decided ’twas wisest I did not dance.” One corner of his mouth edged up. “However, Miss Callahan, I don’t believe I ever said I could not dance.”
A laugh bubbled in her throat. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but everyone still thought she was Amanda, so she reluctantly nixed the idea. “I never really believed you anyway.”
He gave a quick laugh and twined his fingers with hers, leading her to the center of the dancers. He caught her around the waist and pressed her to him, close enough to feel the hard contours of his body through the inconsequential wisp of silk she wore. If she had any lingering doubts as to his abilities on the dance floor, they were erased the moment he expertly took the lead.
“You’re a great dancer!” she exclaimed as the couples around them appeared to fly by in a blur. “To think, I was sure you didn’t know how.”
He slowed his steps. “I didn’t know,” he said, his expression oddly intense. “Not truly. Not until you came into my life.”
She almost melted on the spot. “Me, either,” she breathed.
Tenderly, he tucked their entwined hands under his chin. She snuggled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Oblivious to the waltz, they swayed slowly in place.
“I apologize for my late arrival,” he said.
“I was beginning to wonder if maybe you were with your wife.”
He reared back. “My wife?”
“Your lover, then.”
His eyes flashed with surprise before the look was replaced by affectionate amusement. “I have no wife.”
“A lover?”
“No lover.”
“Good. I won’t have to cause a scene.”
He tilted up her chin. “I was otherwise engaged.”
“You . . . were?”
“I swam halfway around the island.”
“You did what?” Carly gaped at him.
“Swam around the island. After that, it was a long trek up to the falls and back. By the time I returned, you had entered my thoughts again, so I was forced to endure another swim.”
She saw her plans for the evening dissolve. “And now you’re exhausted,” she said glumly.
He brushed his lips over her ear. Maria’s gold earring clicked against his teeth. “Not in the least.”
Her stomach fluttered.
“Care to join me for a stroll along the sea?” he asked. The heat in his eyes alone was enough to make her blush. “Every star in creation is out tonight,” he murmured.
Carly peered at the heavens. Magic. She tugged on his arm, eager to test Maria’s theory. “Let’s go.”
“When the music stops, I will leave you. Watch me,” he said carefully. “When I go, wait for a moment, then follow.”
She nodded. Ever the leader, he couldn’t risk flaunting a liaison with her before the crew learned of the change in plans.
They danced until the song ended, then bid each other good night and walked to opposite sides of the dance area.
Carly observed Andrew as he accepted a beer from Cuddy and turned down an offer to dance from one of the women. Before long, he settled against the trunk of a palm tree, his arms crossed over his chest, an expression of haughty boredom dulling his features.
Carly grinned. The man of many talents was an actor, too. She sipped her beer and waited. A popular tune began and was met with cheers. The dance area filled with couples. By the time she glanced back at Andrew, he was gone.
Her heart lurched. She craned her neck, searching until she found him half hidden in the shadows. The moment their eyes met, he turned and walked into the trees.
She steeled herself by emptying her cup of beer. She counted to ten, raced through the numbers, and counted to ten again. Then, like a child up to mischief, she plunged into the trees behind her.
The path wound through waist-high vegetation and a thick grove of palms. Vines above obscured the moon, making the darkness complete and claustrophobic. The sounds of the party grew faint and were soon overtaken by the raucous, exotic sounds of a jungle at night. With each cautious step, the rumble of the surf ahead became louder, and she could smell its saltiness, sense the spray in the muggy air. Gradually, the pebbly dirt smoothed into sand under her bare feet.
The trees ended suddenly. She hesitated at the edge of a pristine beach bathed in golden moonlight.
Andrew saw her the moment she emerged from the trees. He almost laughed aloud from joy as she paused to gaze at the stars while fixing the flowers in her hair. Never before had he felt so full of hope.
He tugged off his boots and silently stole up behind her. She started, then immediately calmed in his embrace. Nuzzling her neck, inhaling her scent, he enfolded her in his arms. “Good evening, Miss Callahan.”
“Hi.”
He splayed his hands flat over her stomach, stroking upward, stopping at the undersides of her breasts before sliding his palms lower. Moaning softly, the sound that drove him wild with wanting her, she arched her neck. Petals from the flowers in her hair fluttered to the sand.
He was fully aroused, but he kept his hips away from her tempting round bottom so she would not feel his aching need. More than anything, he wanted to make love to her tonight. But he wanted the decision to be hers.
She twisted to face him. Her fingers glided through his hair and locked behind his head. She pulled him down to her, flicking her tongue over his lips. That was all the invitation he needed. Her arms tightened around him with the kiss. She tasted of beer and the sweetness that was uniquely hers.
To her murmur of protest, he pulled away.
“Kiss me,” she cajoled in a whisper.
To appease her, he brushed his mouth over her parted lips, her cheek, her jaw. “No, sweet, not here. ’Tis too close to the village. Walk with me.”
She mumbled something about stars. Or perhaps it was magic. But she w
ouldn’t give him a hint either way when he asked her what she’d said.
Under the light of a nearly full moon, they left a trail of footprints along the beach, empty but for the sound of the pounding surf and the calls of night creatures. He led her through a grove of shrubs with enormous scented flowers, then across a stream and up over gritty dunes until they’d reached the far side of the island.
Coconut palms fringed a curving swath of sand swept clean by the tide. “The lagoon,” he said simply.
“It’s beautiful.”
“And private.” He moved behind her, stroking her arms. To his delight, he felt gooseflesh rise under his palms. He loved the way she responded to his lightest touch, and, at times, to his words alone. “We’re the only souls about. What would you like to do? We can stroll along the water and wake up the crabs. Or perhaps swim, if you prefer.”
She fingered the knot of silk between her breasts. “A swim sounds nice.”
Andrew watched her carefully. She was up to something. He could almost hear the wheels of mischief turning in her head.
As fast as lightning, she yanked the knot open and darted away from him. “Can’t catch me!” she cried over her shoulder, flinging her dress into the air as she ran toward the water, treating him to an uninterrupted view of the sweetest bare bottom he’d ever seen.
Already, her feet were a blur as she splashed through the shallows. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, and proceeded to undress more swiftly than he ever had in his life.
Chapter Sixteen
Carly surfaced, gasped for breath, then dove under. By the time she burst through the water again, her chest heaved with the effort to catch her breath. The water was waist deep, but only her head poked above the surface. She didn’t dare risk standing until her brain caught up with what she’d done.
Boy, talk about impulsive.
Now she’d have to suffer the consequences. Though suffering was not exactly what she had in mind.
Andrew’s heavy splashes sounded behind her. She spun to face him. His hair was slicked back from his face, and his incredibly defined stomach muscles flexed as he waded toward her.
