by Susan Cliff
When she didn’t answer, he picked up his spear and walked away. As if the discussion was over.
She watched him go, tears spilling down her cheeks. Then she curled up on the sand and cried for a long time. She cried for her parents and her dog and her best friend. She cried for her favorite foods, her favorite clothes, her favorite TV shows. She cried for toiletries and hair products. She cried for everything she missed and everything she’d lost.
After the tears dried up, anger settled in. She should have expected this. He’d been a bullheaded overachiever from day one. He was too damned antsy to stay here and wait for rescue. Of course he couldn’t wait to try his luck at sea. He was a hotshot daredevil. He lived for opportunities like this.
Damn him.
And damn her, for falling in love with him.
She stared at the shoreline, feeling hopeless. She didn’t know which was worse, staying here alone or going with him. She couldn’t face the open ocean again, with its endless days and shark-plagued nights. But if she stayed behind, the torture of worrying about him would be equally unbearable.
Not that he was giving her a choice. He wouldn’t leave her. End of story. He said he’d wait a few weeks, to find out if she was pregnant.
She slid her hand down her belly, eyes closed. They’d been so careless. She hadn’t even thought about telling him to withdraw. She’d been too focused on her own pleasure. For the first time ever, intercourse had felt better than foreplay, and she’d reveled in his touch. She wouldn’t have stopped him for the world.
He’d said he loved her. He’d said he couldn’t keep his hands off her because he was in love with her. The confession weakened her knees, but it didn’t improve their situation. It didn’t assuage her fears about sailing away in a patched-up raft.
She took a deep breath and tried to look on the bright side. Maybe all of this arguing and angst was premature. Her cycles had always been irregular. The possibility of pregnancy from one encounter was low, especially under these circumstances. She’d lost weight. She hadn’t been getting enough rest, or a balanced diet with the proper nutrients. The past month had been a roller coaster of stress and trauma. Plus, she’d just been stung by a stonefish!
There was no way she was pregnant. Her body was focused on purging the poison from her system, not fertilizing an egg.
She rose to her feet, frowning. They were fighting over a remote, hypothetical situation. That was against survival protocol. He always told her not to get hung up on worst-case scenarios or let fear take over.
He wasn’t following his own advice, was he?
She headed in the direction he’d gone, hobbling on her sore foot. She found him sitting on a rock by the tide pools. He was repairing one of the fish baskets. He’d promised not to venture into deep water unless she was with him, acting as lookout. Apparently he’d broken that promise. He arched an arrogant brow, daring her to complain.
“I’m not done talking about this,” she said.
He dusted off his hands and stood, ready to hear her out. His lips curved into a humorless smile. She wasn’t fooled by his hard face and obstinate attitude. He’d told her he loved her, and she hadn’t responded in kind. He might not admit it, but he was feeling vulnerable. He was afraid of what the future held.
So was she.
“It’s highly unlikely that I’m pregnant,” she said. “My cycles have always been irregular. After what my body just went through, it’s almost impossible.”
“Okay,” he said, shrugging. “But what if you are?”
“I don’t want to go, either way.”
“I get that.”
She moistened her lips, nervous. “I think you’re using this as an excuse to leave. You can’t stand staying in one place. You’re bored. You’re ready to move on to the next challenge. Or the next conquest.”
His stunned expression told her she’d hit a nerve. “Jesus,” he said, raking a hand through his hair. “This is why I don’t have girlfriends. Even on a deserted island, you can still manage to sound jealous.”
“Am I wrong?”
“Yes,” he said through clenched teeth. “You’re wrong. I’m not bored with you. I don’t want a new challenge. I just want you to be safe. I want to take action before it’s too late. Why is that so hard to understand?”
She studied him for a moment, wavering. “It’s a huge risk.”
“It’s a calculated risk,” he said, setting aside the fish basket. “I’ve thought about every detail. All of the elements have to be perfect. If the patches don’t keep a tight seal, or the sail doesn’t work right, we won’t go.”
“And if I’m not pregnant, we’ll stay?”
He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Yeah. We’ll stay.”
“And we can go back to plan A? Waiting for a ship?”
“I can’t wait forever.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know. Six months, maybe a year.”
Although she didn’t like his vague answer, she figured it was the best she’d get. She couldn’t make him put off the journey indefinitely. He might not be looking for a new conquest, but he wouldn’t let the island win. He wouldn’t accept defeat.
“Do we have a deal?” he asked.
“There’s one more thing.”
“What?”
She took a deep breath and met his gaze. “You don’t have to worry about this problem coming up again. I won’t let you touch me.”
His eyes darkened. “Fine.”
She held out her hand. He shook it, agreeing to a deal they both disliked. They were going to avoid physical contact for the rest of their days here. Funny how she’d once thought that getting stuck on this island was a fate worse than death. Now she was clinging to it like a lifeline, terrified to leave.
It had been paradise, hadn’t it? For an unfairly short time.
She believed he was sincere in his affections, despite her claim otherwise. They shared the same pain. His voice had been raw when he’d confessed his feelings for her. He’d told her the truth, and it was tearing him up inside.
In the real world, they wouldn’t have been together long enough to fall in love. Here, they couldn’t escape it.
That didn’t mean she was going to tell him how she felt in return. She’d conceded to his plan. She’d already given him her body. She had nothing left. If she surrendered her heart, she’d crumble into a pile of sand and blow away.
So she offered him something else instead. “What do you need help with?”
He seemed surprised by the question, but they both knew he couldn’t move the engine on his own. Maybe the raft would help them get rescued in the next few weeks. “I need help with the air pump, if you feel strong enough.”
“Let’s go.”
Chapter 19
It wasn’t his best week.
Logan worked on the raft for several hours a day, in between fishing and other tasks. He needed Cady’s help, and he was trying not to overtax her. She seemed to be recovering well, but she’d been quiet. He’d been downright silent.
What was there to say? He’d poured his heart out to her, and she’d accused him of wanting to leave because he was bored.
He wasn’t bored. He was afraid.
She had no idea what he’d gone through after she’d gotten stung. He’d held her limp body in his arms and cried. He’d soaked her foot and bathed her clammy skin and prayed for her to wake up. He’d considered cutting into the wound and sucking out the poison, even though he knew it was an ineffective strategy. He’d been desperate.
After a long night and an endless day, her condition had improved. She’d gone from unconscious to merely sleeping. Then guilt had settled in. He’d started agonizing about life, rather than death. He’d thought about all of the reasons he shouldn’t have
touched her. He’d recognized that his mistake might have grave consequences. Nine months from now, she could die in childbirth. He imagined thirty-six hours of labor, with him as midwife. It was his worst nightmare.
Even if she managed to deliver a healthy baby...then what? He couldn’t leave her here with a newborn. Babies were fragile. They needed stuff. The chances of survival, with no supplies or medicine, were not good.
But Cady refused to focus on that reality. She didn’t want to risk the open ocean. She didn’t believe she was pregnant. She thought he was overreacting, and making a rash decision based on a remote possibility. Maybe he was. Maybe she’d get her period next week, and he’d collapse in relief. Maybe she really wouldn’t let him touch her for a year. Maybe they’d get rescued tomorrow.
He wasn’t counting on any of that.
He was willing to relax his time line, however. She’d told him she might not get a period, even if she wasn’t pregnant, because of her irregular cycle, plus the harsh conditions on the island. She’d also said that women often had miscarriages in the early stages. He’d promised to wait a few months.
He went to the tide pools at dawn, his mood dark. He was still angry with himself for failing to protect her. He’d been incredibly stupid and reckless. Now they faced the worst possible circumstances. What the hell was wrong with him? He wanted to beat his head against a rock, every single day.
It had taken an entire week to air up the raft. He’d found several leaks, which he’d repaired with tar patches. Then the engine didn’t start, and he’d had to take it apart to study the components. After some tinkering, he got it going. He’d circumnavigated the island, alone at first. Cady had gone with him the second time around. The patches held. She’d studied the vast expanse of ocean, her curls flying in the wind. They didn’t speak.
He’d stashed the raft in the cave, anchored so it wouldn’t drift out to sea. His next step was building the sail, which might prove to be the most difficult phase of the project. He didn’t know what kind of sail to make. He wasn’t sure what the weather conditions would be. He had no idea where they were. His best guess was between Hawaii and Tahiti. They’d traveled on a west-flowing current to get here. That same current would take them away from the island.
They seemed to be entering a dry season, which meant he wouldn’t be able to collect rain for drinking water during the trip. That was bad. But he also might not have to worry about storm swells and monsoons. That was good.
He swam out to deeper water to check his fish basket. They were in luck; a hefty mahimahi was trapped inside. He brought the fresh catch back to camp with pride.
“Nice,” she said, as he dumped the fish on the sand.
“Let’s have this for breakfast and take it easy today.”
“Take it easy? You?”
“We can hike to the pool, collect some chestnuts.”
She gave him a suspicious look. Hiking uphill wasn’t exactly taking it easy, but spending a day at the big waterfall was a rare treat. It was her favorite place on the island, a paradise within a paradise. He liked it, too, even though visiting meant swimming naked with her and ignoring his base desires.
It wasn’t as hard as it used to be. Well, it was still hard, but his physical needs paled in comparison to the emotional turmoil he’d experienced since her illness. He’d told her he loved her, and she’d pushed him away. Sexual frustration was insignificant.
She cleaned the fish with a deft hand, and they returned to the fire pit for a hot meal. Sometimes they ate bananas for dinner and fish at dawn. They both looked like beggars, with bare feet and frayed clothes. He worried about her slender form. She wasn’t too thin yet, but she was compact and small-breasted, with a tiny waist. She’d never be lush and round here, no matter how much fish he caught.
After breakfast, they made their way uphill. He’d blazed a new trail a few weeks ago. Now they could access the waterfall from Shelter Bay without having to go through the cave and around the backside of the island. It was a short but challenging hike. Her foot had healed well enough. So had his arm. The shark bite scar was an ugly pink crescent above his elbow. His knee didn’t hurt at all anymore.
When they arrived at the pool, he pretended to take a nap in the shade while she splashed around in the water. She hadn’t danced since the stonefish incident. She hadn’t screamed, either.
He missed both.
He heard her wade out of the pool, but he didn’t look. She sat down on a mossy rock to braid her hair. He kept his eyes closed, listening to the sounds of tree frogs and rustling birds. When she wandered off to collect chestnuts, he took a turn in the water. He ducked his head under the rushing falls, scrubbing away the stink of a long week. He hadn’t bothered with showering or washing his clothes lately. It felt good to immerse himself in clean, cool water. It felt good to massage his sore muscles.
When he was finished, he helped her gather breadfruit and chestnuts. He’d brought the whalebone club with him. It acted sort of like a boomerang, knocking down fruit from high branches. They filled two bags before they headed downhill.
They took the scenic route on the way back because he wanted to check on the raft. He paused inside the cave, where the raft was anchored. The rope appeared to have loosened during the night.
“I have to retie this,” he said. “Do you want to go on ahead?”
She nodded, eager to leave the dark recesses of the cavern. He secured the raft in a better spot and continued after her. On impulse, he plucked a red hibiscus flower from the vines overhanging the waterfall. He couldn’t touch her, but his feelings hadn’t changed. He was hopelessly in love with her. Maybe someday, when they were safe, they could be together again. As he strode down the beach, an ear-splitting scream rang out.
It was Cady, and this was no ordinary scream. He appreciated the sound now, and understood its nuances. He recognized the difference between her little shrieks of surprise, her throaty cries of pleasure and her real screams of terror.
This was the third kind, ratcheted up to ten.
He dropped the flower and started running. He passed Cady’s Rock, his heart pounding with panic. Then he saw her. She was racing toward him on the narrow strip of sand between the tide pools and the cliffs. There was a man in hot pursuit.
A man.
One of the kidnappers, if Logan wasn’t mistaken.
It was the same Polynesian man he’d choked out on the mother ship. Logan hadn’t seen another man in so long that he almost couldn’t process the sight. He felt like he was dreaming. He was dreaming and running at the same time. He blinked to clear his vision, but it didn’t help. The man was still there, chasing Cady.
Was this really happening? Had he stepped on a stonefish? Was he hallucinating?
Cady screamed again as the man tackled her around the waist. The sound cleared Logan’s mind of everything but counterattack. His hand closed around the whalebone club at his belt. His feet barely touched the sand as he sprinted toward them. The man took Cady down, but he didn’t have time to subdue her. He jumped up and whirled around to confront the bigger threat.
Logan closed in on him, holding the club high. The man’s eyes glinted with recognition. He remembered Logan. He didn’t appear intimidated, but why would he? Logan probably weighed one-seventy-five now, dripping wet. This guy was a hard-muscled two-fifty—and he had a knife.
He drew a wickedly curved blade and smiled.
Cady lay on the sand behind him, stunned. Logan hoped she wouldn’t interfere. He didn’t want her getting in the middle of this.
“Surrender,” he said in French. It was the only French word he remembered.
The man replied with something guttural and profane-sounding. It wasn’t an agreement; Logan knew that much. He stepped forward and feigned a right swing, which was the usual starting point. For amateurs. The man shifted his stance to a
void the hit, leaving his left side vulnerable. Logan transferred the weapon into his opposite hand behind his back and struck for real, aiming a brutal blow across the man’s temple.
But his opponent was no amateur, either. He ducked.
Logan had been counting on the larger man to be clumsy and slow. He wasn’t. He jabbed forward with the blade, narrowly missing Logan’s torso. Cady screamed and kicked the sand, trying to trip him. The man jumped over her legs easily, but the split-second distraction worked in Logan’s favor. He transferred the weapon to his right hand again and swung across his body, bringing the club down on his opponent’s forearm.
It was a devastating hit, flaying skin and shattering bone. A strangled sound emerged from the man’s throat. The knife dropped from his now-useless hand. Unfortunately, he didn’t make the fatal mistake of retreating. Most wounded men took an instinctive step back, inadvertently giving their opponent the chance to strike again. This experienced warrior lowered his shoulder and drove forward, slamming into Logan’s midsection.
In the next instant, they were rolling across the sand. Logan ended up on his back, unable to dislodge the heavier man. He was at an extreme disadvantage now. The man locked his left hand around Logan’s right wrist and applied crushing force. Logan didn’t let go—until he got head-butted in the temple.
His skull vibrated and black spots danced across his vision. The club slipped out of his slack hand. He couldn’t free his arms to defend himself. The only way to avoid getting knocked by the next blow was to rock forward to meet it. He gritted his teeth in anticipation.
But the blow didn’t come. Not to him, at least. Cady attacked from behind, cracking the man over the head with the club. His body went limp. Logan shoved him away and broke free, scrambling to his feet. The Polynesian man was facedown on the sand, unconscious.
Logan picked up the discarded knife and looked around, still reeling. He couldn’t see Shelter Bay from here. They were in a secluded spot, close to the cliffs. He’d have to walk past the tide pools, to the flat rock he’d named Logan’s Folly, for a better view. “Where are the others?”
