The Red Pearl

by C. K. Brooke

  He turned back around. You hypocrite, he chided himself. For he had once grabbed her waist, claimed her lips… Hell, he’d spent the last few days gawking at her arse. But that was different, wasn’t it? Unlike that stranger, Rob had no serious intentions with her. It was only that he was a man, and she a woman and, well, those sorts of reactions were simply chemical.

  Weren’t they?

  At any rate, he was inexplicably annoyed by the time she returned to the table, laughing again as she shook the stranger’s hand. With one last infuriating wink, the older fellow finally left the restaurant, hands in his pockets. A flush at her cheeks, Antonia resumed her seat.

  The waiter reappeared with a set of cloches. But somehow, Rob found that he wasn’t very hungry anymore.

  THEY CLIMBED THE STAIRS TO their rooms. When Antonia approached her chamber, however, she encountered the staff still sweeping the floors and changing out the linens. They apologized in Axacolan, holding up their fingers to indicate that they needed more time.

  Shrugging, she followed Robin into his room instead. She’d simply wait with him until they were finished.

  The man shut the door rather harshly behind her, and she trembled at the impact as the doorframe vibrated. “Jeez.” She hiked an eyebrow. “Awfully surly this evening, aren’t we?” After all, he’d barely spoken to her throughout the meal.

  Robin dropped his rucksack onto the dresser. “You know, I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t go around flirting with foreigners while we’re trying to keep a low profile here. We’re on a mission. We mustn’t lose sight of that.”

  Antonia was shocked. “Are you referring to the man I danced with?” Her muscles tensed. “If so, then pardon me for enjoying myself on the rare occasion when a man actually happens to take notice of me.”

  Robin scowled. “He seemed eager to take a lot more than notice of you, Annie.”

  She would’ve laughed, had the accusation not been so coarse. Why, the fellow with whom she’d danced had been entirely genteel. He’d meant nothing forward; he was simply friendly. And it wasn’t as though Antonia would ever see him again. “For your information,” she snapped, “he happened to be a perfect gentleman.”

  “Sure,” muttered Robin. “If you’re into men who are old enough to be your father.”

  “Excuse me?” Antonia glared. “I am not into him. It was only a little dance. It’s not as though I dated him for six months, then pinned him up against a tree and kissed him!” Her chest heaved the instant she delivered her retort, for she’d spoken in the heat of the moment. It was too late to retract her words now.

  Robin looked as though he’d finally comprehended something significant. “Is that what you were so upset about?” he asked incredulously. “You know, I didn’t mean anything by kissing Wen. I did it only in order to trap her. So that you and I could get away.”

  This explanation offered Antonia little comfort. “Seems to me you were rather enjoying her.”

  “Enjoying her?” the man sputtered. “Antonia, I was faking it. Just like how she faked me. So you needn’t be jealous—”

  “Jealous?” Antonia laughed derisively, although her stomach gave a tumultuous toss. “You flatter yourself. Why would I be jealous when you are such an awful kisser?”

  He appeared taken aback. “Well, wait just a minute, now.” He folded his arms. “You pulled away and smacked me that day in the desert, before I could really get into it.”

  “Perhaps because it was so bad, I knew it could only get worse.”

  “Hogwash,” he declared. “And how would you know a bad kiss from a good one, when you’ve no experience to go by?”

  “Perhaps I don’t,” she sniffed. “But I’m sure I could kiss a good deal better than—whatever that was you think you gave me.”

  Robin said nothing as Antonia stared up at him, a fire stoking in her belly. She was aflame, though with what, she couldn’t exactly say. It was a combination of fury, indignation and…hunger.

  She lost all restraint, shedding her hesitation like an old skin in favor of the urge she needed to satisfy. Why, he’d done it to her; who was to say she couldn’t do it right back to him?

  “In fact,” she hissed, seizing him by the back of the neck, “I’ll prove it to you.” With a tug, she pulled his mouth over hers and latched onto his lips, suckling them as though they were the gods’ ambrosia, and she a ravenous beggar.

  Her skin burned where he grabbed her arms, steadying her while he kissed her thoroughly back, his mouth working overtime to keep in pace with hers. With a deep shiver, Antonia ran her hands through his hair, thrusting her body against his as she devoured his mouth.

  He was making to slide his grip down her waist, nearly reaching her backside…when he took a sudden breath, and let go. Her lips stung as he released them. Antonia peered up at him, confused by the anguish in his eyes.

  He took a step back. “Antonia,” he whispered, shaking his head. “I can’t.”

  Her pulse hammered. “Why not?”

  “I just can’t.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t want to be alone.”

  “I didn’t.” Robin sighed, massaging his brow. “I mean, I don’t. It’s just…I’ve been betrayed before, and don’t feel I can be close to anyone in that way again.”

  Her heart was tearing. “I’m not Rowena,” she insisted. “I can be true.”

  “Yet, you broke your vows to Azea, did you not?” He shook his head. “If you cannot be faithful to your own goddess, how could you be faithful to a man?”

  Antonia sucked in a breath, hurt. “First of all, I’d not yet taken my vows.” Her voice shook. “And secondly, I never wanted to be a priestess! I want you, Rob.”

  He looked startled. “I thought you wanted your knight in Elat.”

  “I was beginning to think maybe you were my knight.” A single tear dripped from her eye. “I was wrong.”

  She turned on her heel and hurried out of his chamber. The staff had finished with her room, and Antonia went in, heaving the door shut behind her. Now standing alone, she faced herself in the mirror. She hardly recognized her reflection with her tanned face, unkempt hair sprawled over her shoulders, and her blue eyes swollen and wet.

  Though she hated Rowena Wildaison, the conniving woman had made at least one true statement in her miserable life. And that was when she had accused Antonia Korelli of loving Robin Watkins.

  Who was she trying to fool? The girl slumped down onto the bed, choking back a sob. She’d not kid herself any longer. She’d stepped before a pistol, followed the man across the desert, and slaughtered a venomous snake for him, all because she loved him. Did he not realize that? Was he so blinded by his heartache that he could not see how genuine she was, how pure her affections?

  She didn’t want to go to Elat anymore. Deep down, she’d known it for some time. For, how could any knight compare to Rob? Surely, no other man smiled like him, teased like him, told a story the way he did. And certainly, none of the king’s men would have eyes the color of aquamarines, or hair like autumn leaves, or a laugh that lifted her spirits and made her stomach jitter…

  In fact, it was while dancing with the kindly stranger that evening when Antonia realized that no other man would ever suffice. Nay, all the men of the world blended into a single ocean that held no relevance to her; the only one who stood apart was Robin. He was all she wanted. Yet, he’d not let her in.

  Antonia rued the day he’d met Rowena, cursed the woman in the name of every goddess she knew. How dare anyone wound him, cause him to consider himself irreparable? Antonia would never dream of hurting him. She would be a loyal lover…if only he’d give her the chance.

  Let me in, Rob, she prayed tearfully, curling up on the bed. Let me in.

  But his broken heart was sealed and locked. And it was obvious he had every intention of keeping her out.

  ROB RE
MAINED AWAKE THROUGH MOST of the night, a battle waging between his head and heart. Never before had he felt so conflicted.

  Sure, he wanted Antonia. He wanted her like hell. In fact, had he permitted his hands to roam any lower, to grope and squeeze her in the fashion of his deepest desires, he might’ve taken her then and there, all the way.

  And that was why he couldn’t let himself. For, if he had made love to her, quenching his undeniable thirst, indulging in their admitted lust, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d not regret it in the morning. He couldn’t do that to her. It would have been too unfair.

  No, her first time ought to be with someone who deserved her, who was undamaged—unlike him—and confident in his ability to wholly love her, without reservation. She merited no less. Rob was only sorry he could not be that man.

  It wasn’t as though he didn’t care for her. To the contrary, it was precisely because he did care that he couldn’t, in good conscience, go there with her. For, what if he found himself unable to commit to her, and wound up breaking her heart?

  She was still young anyway, with an entire future ahead of her. Hang on to your dream, Annie, he longed to tell her. Go find your knight. Don’t pass him up for the likes of me. For I might never come around. And you deserve better.

  But damn, did he want her.

  When he awoke the next morning, it was the most he could hope that she hadn’t abandoned him overnight. Then again, even if the poor girl had wanted to, how could she have? She was stuck in the middle of a foreign country, where she knew not a soul but him.

  Still, Rob had seen in her eyes the pain he’d caused her. He wouldn’t blame her if she never wished to see him again. How were they to face each other now? And how could he begin to explain that the issue was not with her, but him?

  In spite of everything, he was relieved to find her on the verandah after dawn. She sat by herself, cupping a glass of juice. Sunshine slithered beneath the thatch of palms overhead, illuminating her golden hair, which she’d gathered back and loosely plaited.

  Rob stared. Gods, she was beautiful. She looked like an angel sitting there, so collected and serene. For a moment, he wondered if he could truly stand to lose her, if he was sure he really wanted to let her go, after all of this was through.

  She spotted him, and immediately lowered her eyes. His chest ached. She was still hurting—he had hurt her.

  She froze as he pulled out the chair across from her. Knowing it was up to him to break the ice, he greeted her. “Morning.”

  She didn’t speak.

  You’re too beautiful to look so sad, he wanted to tell her. But he knew such a comment would only confuse them both. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the map. “We should make it to the coast today,” he announced gently. “Not too far off now.”

  She wouldn’t acknowledge him.

  “Look, Antonia.” He sighed. “About last night…”

  “What a striking bird,” she remarked coolly, looking away. Rob hardly glanced at the multicolored macaw perched on the railing. “There are many strange species down here in the tropics, don’t you think?”

  “Annie…”

  “Have you tried the mango juice?” She drew a sip from her glass. “Mmm. Sweet and refreshing.”

  Rob frowned. “You have to understand, I’ve only your best interests at—”

  “You think Maverick will like the coast?” Antonia squinted, wondering. “Has he ever been to a beach before?”

  Rob exhaled. It was no use. She would entertain no discussion on the matter. He’d upset her too deeply. Wracked with guilt, he watched his hands as she prattled on.

  “I’ve never been to the beach. But I’ve seen drawings, and my parents described it to me once, when I was a little girl. They said the ocean is big and green, and goes on forever and ever…”

  Maverick was waiting outside for them. Rob gave him a drink and the rest of his breakfast, which he hadn’t the appetite to finish. After refueling the carriage, he counted the canisters of oil they had left over, hoping there was still enough to get them to wherever they were going, and home again.

  To the road they returned. The weather surprised them with a succession of rain showers, and Antonia covered her hair. “My plait,” she complained. Rob tossed her a bandana.

  The sky clouded over, winds billowing with the threat of an oncoming tempest. Rob glanced up, apprehensive. “Let’s hope it passes quickly.”

  “Somehow, I don’t like the idea of heading to the coast at a time like this,” Antonia mumbled.

  His hands tightened over the steering wheel. “It’ll blow over.”

  “If it doesn’t blow us away with it.”

  Heavy rains greeted them in the first coastal town they came upon. It was quiet, with gulls flittering away for cover and dilapidated shacks lining the empty roads. No one spoke Innían, and there was no lodging for travelers. Rob didn’t imagine anyone longed to travel to the godforsaken place.

  Antonia pointed. “Is that the ocean?”

  Through the rain, the man spied a body of water with frothy waves lashing ashore. “Looks like it.”

  She gazed in awe as they drove alongside it. But the storm thundered on, drenching them. “Rob,” Antonia called over the roaring rain. “I think we need to stop.”

  “And take cover where?”

  “We’ve a tent in back, don’t we?”

  Rob shook his head. “The wind will only blow it down.”

  “What if we secured it to the carriage? Could we attach the canvas as a sort of hood?”

  He was inclined to object. But he thought before he spoke. The idea wasn’t so far-fetched. “Quite creative,” he confessed, parking the carriage beneath a cluster of palm trees.

  Together, they experimented with the canvas, hoisting it over the seats and propping it up with the tent poles. It took almost an hour, and several times the entire contraption collapsed upon them. Frustrated, they were nearly ready to give up when Antonia discovered a way to secure the canvas, and coax it to stay up. Rain pounded down overhead, but they were now shielded.

  “Ugh.” She patted the bench. “The seats got soaked.”

  Rob extracted a blanket from the backseat and laid it down. “Oof, Maverick.” The dog shook, splattering them with rainwater.

  Antonia shrunk away. After a moment, she glanced about, sniffing. “What is that horrible stench?”

  Rob grunted. “Wet dog.”

  “A wet dog has a stench?”

  “You bet.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. “What is with you dog-lovers?” She tossed back her damp plait. “Honestly, I don’t know how you tolerate it.”

  The man rested back in his seat. “Unlike people, dogs are loyal.”

  “Not all people are disloyal,” she snapped, her tone heavy with meaning.

  Rob wished he hadn’t spoken.

  They fell silent, listening as the rain pelted down overhead. After a while, Antonia’s voice, this time softer, cut through the quietude. “Funny. I’ve never even asked you what you plan to do, once you find the Red Pearl.”

  “You mean, if we find it?”

  Her eyes met his with conviction. “You’ll find it. I know you will.”

  Rob was taken aback. “I appreciate your confidence.” He sighed, thoughtful. “I suppose I’ll sell it to the highest bidder, and live out the rest of my days in luxury. As you will, too.” He smiled. “We’re splitting the fortune, remember.”

  Antonia looked down. “I don’t care to split it. I’m just…here for the ride. To help you.”

  Rob scratched his head, unsure how to respond to such a claim. “You’ll change your mind, soon as you see how filthy rich I’ve become, and want your fair slice of the pie. In which case,” he grinned again, “I’ll pretend I never heard what you just said.”

  She barely smi
led, and his slowly faded. “Why?” he asked her. “What do you think I ought to do with it?”

  “Well, I mean…” She scrunched her brow. “You wouldn’t just want to just…you know, hang on to it?”

  He blinked. “You mean, keep it?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  For some reason, Rob had never considered this. “And what d’you suppose I’d do with it?” He chuckled. “Sit around and stare at it all day?”

  “Maybe you could voyage around the world with it in a traveling exhibition, and charge people from near and far to see it,” she proposed. “Or else, you could build your own museum around it, and profit from the patrons…”

  “A museum?” Rob laughed. “And why, pray tell, should I go through so much trouble, when I could simply receive a lump sum and be done with it?”

  “You’ve a point.” Antonia shrugged. “Only…”

  “What?”

  “It just seems sort of sad that, after all these years of searching, you’ll only have the Red Pearl but a short while.”

  “But I’ll always be the one to have found it. My name—yours, too—shall forever be attached to its history.” Rob folded his arms behind his head. “I think that’s ambitious enough for both of us.”

  “If you say so,” she mumbled, looking on.

  THE STORM WAS GONE BY morning. Antonia helped Robin take down their makeshift carriage hood, and together they consulted the map.

  “If I recall,” she said, “there’s an island we must find from here.”

  “Not quite yet.” He unfolded the vellum. “I believe we must travel a little ways west, first.”

  So west they headed, the ocean at their side brilliant as the sun itself breaking through the cumulous clouds. Antonia studied the map as Robin drove, though her eyes often drifted to the water in fascination. It was like the lakes of Innía, but far broader, with no end in sight.

  After a time, Robin slowed the carriage, squinting at a curious-looking dock. A middle-aged man with an old boat stood idle, leaning against the rails as the sun beamed down over his dark head.