His Only Obsession (Protectors #27)

by Beverly Barton

  “Follow me,” he told her. “But stay behind me. And if I issue you an order, just do what I tell you to do without question. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  They followed the stone path, a path not made by Mother Nature, until they reached a thirty-foot waterfall that flowed into a small, rocky lagoon. The water was clear, the surface shimmery with golden sunlight. Thick, lush vegetation grew in abundance around the pond.

  “It’s beautiful,” Gwen said.

  “Yeah, but the main thing is that it’s freshwater.”

  “Can we rest now?” she asked. “Is it safe?”

  “We can rest. But I’m not sure how safe this place is. I’m not sure of anything right about now.”

  “There are—” she cleared her throat “—or there were at one time, people on this island. Human beings made that stone path.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. That clearing and the stone path were man-made.”

  “Don’t you think that there’s a chance, even if just a slight chance, that this is the island my father discovered when he was twenty?”

  Puzzled, confused and uneasy, Will didn’t respond. He found a boulder near the lagoon’s edge, removed the backpack, dropped it on the boulder and then sat. Gwen followed his lead and sat beside him. While they stared at the cascading waterfall, Will tried to put his thoughts in order, to make some sense of their surroundings. A landmass large enough to hold an enormous mountain range would hardly have gone uncharted. Something this huge couldn’t hide, not even in four hundred thousand miles of ocean. So that meant that either the cruiser had veered into a charted island and they simply hadn’t reached civilization yet or they were on some mysterious island, perhaps even the one Emery Arnell claimed he had discovered fifty years ago.

  “Did your father ever tell you any details about the island he claims to have discovered?” Will asked.

  “Then you do believe it’s possible—”

  “Just answer my question, will you?”

  “He talked about this place—this fabulous island—with a mixture of awe and excitement in his voice,” Gwen said. “But I don’t remember him talking about details, other than the fact that a magical youth plant grew here, one that somehow enabled the people of the island to live, free of illness for two hundred years.”

  “Do you remember him mentioning a mountain range?”

  “No.”

  “Waterfalls? Rock pathways?”

  Gwen shook her head. “No. His only real interest seemed to be in the plant and its effect on the people.”

  “What about the people? What did he tell you about them?”

  “Not much, only that they lived, on average, to be two hundred, that they were never sick and…well, that’s about it.”

  “Did he say what they looked like, if they were dark or fair or—”

  “He referred to them as natives, so I assumed they were dark-skinned, dark-eyed, but he never actually described their physical appearance.”

  “Didn’t you think that odd, along with the fact that this island of his had no name? You’d have thought the natives would have told him where he was and the name of their country. You’d have thought he would ask. I would, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes, I suppose I would. But you have to remember that my father was only twenty, he’d just lost his entire family and he’d been near death when he washed ashore here.”

  Will gripped her hand tightly and squeezed. “Maybe this island is where your father landed fifty years ago, but he could easily have hallucinated about the natives and their magical plant. If he ran a high fever, if he was ill.”

  “You’re saying it’s all right to believe the island exists, that we may actually be on my father’s island, but that I shouldn’t believe there’s magic involved, because you don’t believe it’s possible.”

  He released her hand. “There’s only one way to find out. We get back on the rock path and follow it to its conclusion.”

  “You’re right.” She stood. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Will stood, picked up the knapsack and strapped it to his back. Then, taking the lead, he returned to the stone path. Gwen kept up with him, but only because he adjusted his gait to hers.

  Less than fifteen minutes later they came to a junction. The stone path formed a cross in the middle of the jungle. The north and south sections remained narrow, while the east and west sections broadened to the width of a one-lane road.

  “It’s a road,” Gwen said.

  “So it is.”

  “There are people on this island. You can’t deny that fact.”

  He nodded. “There were people here. The stones in the path are worn deep into the earth and are smooth on top, which means the path and that road—” he pointed to the east “—have been here for a very long time, perhaps hundreds of years.”

  “These people could be the natives my father talked about. And don’t tell me that it’s not possible.”

  Will grunted. How could he tell her that her father’s mad, rambling stories were not possible? He couldn’t. Not when he stood on an ancient path, obviously man-made, on an enormous, uncharted island.

  Judging from where the sun rested in the middle of the western sky, Gwen surmised that it was early afternoon, probably around two o’clock, give or take. It seemed to her that they had been following the stone road for days instead of a couple of hours. Will had stopped twice to let her take a breather and drink some water. It irritated her no end that she was worn to a frazzle, while their long trek seemed to have had no effect on him.

  As they rounded a bend in the road, Will stopped abruptly and yanked her with him as he dove into the thick jungle that lined either side of the road. Dragging her behind a tree and down on her haunches, Will put his finger to his lips. Widening her eyes, she silently questioned his actions.

  And then she heard what Will had apparently heard. Voices!

  Although the sound came from too far away for her to understand what was being said, she recognized human voices when she heard them.

  “It’s—”

  Will clamped his hand over her mouth and glowered at her.

  Gritting her teeth, she grabbed his hand and removed it, but she remained quiet.

  He motioned for her to stay put, then rose to his feet. She came up beside him. He frowned and motioned for her to get back down behind the tree. She shook her head. After grabbing her by the shoulders, he placed his mouth on her ear and whispered, “Stay here.”

  She shook her head.

  Then he did something totally unexpected. He caressed her cheek as he mouthed the words, “Please, stay here.”

  How did a woman refuse a man whose motive was to protect her, even if she neither wanted nor needed his protection. Oh, get real, Gwen, you do need his protection.

  She nodded. The corners of Will’s lips lifted ever so slightly. He caressed her cheek again, then kissed her forehead. Before she could respond, he shoved her behind the tree and urged her to squat, then he disappeared into the dense brush surrounding them.

  Gwen stayed put. Waiting. Wondering. And praying a little. As the minutes ticked by, she prayed a little harder, a little longer.

  Reminding herself that Will hadn’t been gone all that long, so there was no reason for her to panic, not yet, Gwen did her best to be patient. Her legs ached from squatting. Sweat dotted her face and trickled between her breasts.

  Just when she’d given up hope of Will returning and had decided to try to find him, he came through the jungle, silent and deadly, surprising her. The moment she saw him, she leaped to her feet and rushed to him. Throwing her arms around him, she clung to him.

  “It’s okay, brown eyes,” he told her in a soft, low voice. “I’m back.”

  She smothered his face in kisses, then when he grasped her upper arms, she stilled and stared right at him.

  “What did you find?” she asked.

  “I could tell you, but I think it’s better if you see for yourself,�
� Will said.

  “All right. Show me.”

  When he led her back onto the stone road, she halted and stared at him questioningly.

  “We can follow the road most of the way there, then veer off into the jungle.”

  Trusting Will, she nodded and then followed him along the road. When the voices grew louder, easily heard, he led her off into a heavily wooded area.

  “What language are they speaking?” Gwen whispered.

  “I have no idea,” Will replied. “It’s nothing I’ve ever heard before, and I’m familiar with a lot of languages.”

  He led her through the thicket, clearing the way for her, then he stopped, pulled her around in front of him and held her shoulders while he pointed her in the direction of the voices and the laughter.

  Will yanked back a veil of plush vines to give Gwen an unobstructed view. She gasped, barely managing to stifle the sound.

  There before her, like something from a history book or a movie screen, lay a large village of well-constructed mud huts with thatched roofs. Tall, slender, deeply tanned natives stirred about in the village square. Men, women and children. Not a white-haired person in the cluster of people. No one looked older than forty. The men wore only simple loincloths of some creamy white material, leaving their smooth, muscular legs and chests bare. The women wore short dresses, made of the same thin off-white material, their arms and legs bare. The smaller children ran around laughing and playing, all of them totally naked. Both men and women had long, black hair, the men’s knotted in one long braid and the women’s plaited in three separate lengths.

  “They’re not the same race as the natives in Central or South America,” Will whispered in her ear. “Their skin is not as dark. And their features are—”

  “Egyptian,” Gwen said.

  Chapter 13

  Egyptian wasn’t the first word that came to mind, at least not for Will, but he could see where Gwen might make that assumption. His first thought had been that these natives looked Middle Eastern, possibly Arabic. But he supposed Egyptian was close enough to his assessment that he and Gwen were in agreement. The fact that this island was inhabited, and by people who bore no resemblance to the natives of Central and South America, puzzled him. Although dark-skinned, neither were they descendants of the African slaves that populated so many of the Caribbean islands.

  “You know what this means, don’t you?” Gwen snapped around to face him, a look of astonished joy on her face.

  “Don’t jump to conclusions.”

  “It’s not much of a jump to assume that this is the island my father discovered fifty years ago and these are the people who live to be two hundred years old.”

  “We don’t know where we are or who these people are, so—”

  “So there’s one way to find out. We go meet them and find out if anyone speaks English.”

  When she turned around and took a step forward, Will grabbed her. “Not so fast. We have no idea if these people are friendly. For all we know they could be cannibals.” Okay, so that notion might be a little farfetched, but his concern about their friendliness was perfectly logical.

  Gwen grinned at him. “Cannibals? Look at them.” She pointed toward the village. “Do they look uncivilized to you?”

  “We can’t just go walking into their camp,” Will told her. “First we need to observe them and get some idea what’s what.”

  “Aren’t you being overly cautious?”

  “It pays to be cautious. Let’s get out of sight and discuss this. Okay?”

  She hesitated, then replied, “Okay. I yield to your superior knowledge and experience in situations like this.”

  He drew her farther into the jungle, away from the village. When they were far enough away to be neither seen nor heard by anything other than the colorful birds dotting the trees, Will paused.

  “No matter who these people are, we know nothing about their culture, their laws, their religious beliefs. Their culture could be radically different from anything we know. We can’t walk into their camp and automatically know what is and is not acceptable to them. Do you understand?”

  She nodded. “Yes, of course. It’s as if we’ve landed on another planet, isn’t it?”

  “Sort of. And that’s all the more reason to be cautious, to take our time making contact.”

  “How long should we wait?”

  “At least another day. I want to observe them, get as close as possible without them noticing me. Once I determine a few things, I’ll approach a single person and use sign language.”

  “You mean, we will approach—”

  “No, I mean I will. Once I determine there’s no danger, I’ll come back for you.”

  She shook her head.

  “For God’s sake, Gwen, now is not the time to be stubborn.”

  “And now is not the time for you to go all macho protective on me,” she told him. “If something happens to you, just how long do you suppose I could survive on my own?”

  “I think you’re a lot more resourceful than you think you are.”

  “Maybe, but it would be only a matter of time before I encountered the natives or had to go to them for help, right?”

  Will knew this was a losing battle. “All right. I’ll observe these people today, then we’ll camp in the jungle, and tomorrow morning we’ll go into the village and let the chips fall where they may.”

  “I have a good feeling about this. If we’re friendly and courteous, I truly believe they will not see us as their enemy.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Without more knowledge of these people, Will wasn’t going to assume anything. “Let’s set up a campsite and get you situated, then I’ll go—”

  “I’m going back with you,” she interrupted him again. “I’ll be quiet and I’ll follow your orders, but I want to observe them, too.”

  Will groaned. “Whatever you do, stay out of sight and don’t leave my side.”

  By late afternoon they had been watching the village for several hours and had seen nothing suspicious, simply the daily activities of a people who apparently had no modern conveniences. They baked in huge central ovens and roasted meat over central open fire pits.

  Staying on the outskirts, Gwen and Will were able to ascertain that the village was comprised of maybe thirty-five well-constructed huts, the exterior walls whitewashed. In the center of the village was what Will assumed might be a meeting house. Not far from the village, huge fields of grain grew profusely, along with several large gardens filled with a variety of vegetables. In another area, there was a grove of trees, all heavily laden with ripening fruit.

  Gwen quickly studied the fields, gardens and the fruit trees, trying to identify the various plants. Without closer inspection, she could only guess, and although some appeared nothing out of the ordinary, typical tropical vegetation, others were unfamiliar, perhaps hybrids of some type.

  While they watched what appeared to be a daily routine of men coming in from the fields and being met by their wives and children, a sudden disturbance caught their attention. Escorted by two guards, both carrying spears, a man whose appearance set him apart from the others walked into the village. Although obviously of the same race, he wore a tunic of deep scarlet and carried a case fashioned out of some type of leather. The man Will had picked out as the village leader met the visitor, greeted him with a hand signal that was probably the equivalent of a handshake, then led him inside one of the large huts.

  Whispering, Gwen said, “Who do you suppose that is?”

  “Someone important. A ruler from another village or a tax collector or a witch doctor. Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “I wish we understood their language.”

  “Yeah, that would help.”

  “If we knew what they were saying, it would help us to know how they might feel about us being here.”

  “We’ll just have to hope that when the time comes, we can communicate by using some sort of sign language, and if we’re stuck here inde
finitely, we should be able to learn their language.”

  Gwen looked right at him. “In the excitement of discovering that this island is inhabited, I’d almost forgotten that we’re all but marooned here.”

  “There’s no ‘all but’ to it, honey, we are marooned here.”

  She sighed. “If this turns out to be my father’s island, it won’t be fair that we found it, not unless he somehow can make his way here, too. He’s the one who should be rediscovering this place, not me.”

  Will admired her devotion to her father, even if he felt it was somehow misguided and certainly not earned. No matter what great deeds a person might perform in a lifetime, if a person failed as a father, they failed at their most important job. If he ever had a child, he’d try his damnedest to be a good parent. Better than his old man had been and for sure better than Dr. Emery Arnell had been.

  “Look, someone’s coming out of the house where that man went in.” Gwen’s attention focused on that single hut.

  Will narrowed his gaze when he saw a young man—a slim, brown-haired, fair-skinned man in his late twenties, emerge from the hut. Definitely not a native. He wore tattered jeans, a dirty shirt and had heavy beard stubble.

  “Look.” Gwen grabbed Will’s arm.

  Before Will could reply, a young woman followed the man from the hut. He put his arm around the redheaded girl, who placed her head on his shoulder as she cried. Will recognized her immediately from her photograph.

  “Oh, my God! That’s Cheryl Kress, isn’t it?” Gwen tightened her hold on Will’s arm.

  “Yes, I believe it is. And my guess is that the man with her is Jordan Elders.”

  “Then that means my father—”

  As if on cue, a tall, distinguished white-haired man, his shoulders slumped and tears glistening in his eyes, emerged from the hut.

  “Daddy,” Gwen cried loudly.

  Will cursed through clenched teeth.

  Gwen released his arm and shoved aside the foliage hiding them from view. Will reached for her, but she managed to escape before he grabbed her. Damn! Why couldn’t she think with her head instead of her heart? She was heading straight into the village.