Hot Winds From Bombay

by Becky Lee Weyrich

  Mahianna let him know with the veiled look in her eyes and soft words in her own tongue that the time was upon them.

  He rose from her, staring down at her lovely naked torso, covered only about the hips with a swath of brightly colored material that was knotted low on one hip. Her long, shapely legs looked dark against the white sand. She raised her arms to him and he pulled her up, clinging to her, reveling in the feel of her breasts against his bare chest.

  Moments later, she had led him a short way through the rain forest to a hut beside a secluded lagoon. A mat bed made of the fibers from coconut palms awaited them in one corner. But first Mahianna went to the rough table and poured a milky liquid from a hollow gourd into a coconut shell. She offered it to him. This was the sweet, burning ambrosia his shipmates had told him about—coconut beer, they called it.

  The concoction scalded his mouth and throat but soon brought a soothing pleasure to his whole body. He imagined he could feel its milky fire streaming through every vein. Mahianna, too, drank of the magic potion. When her cup was empty, she went to her “Zaa” and led him to the mat, indicating with sign language and soft sounds that he should lie down. He did, feeling his head swim with a delicious lightness while the rest of his body pulsed with desire.

  Slowly, deliberately, Mahianna stripped away his clothes, stroking his body with long, cool fingers as she undressed him. Zack could still remember the way he’d writhed and moaned under her knowing touch.

  When she had finished with him, Mahianna stood. He stared up at her, not knowing what would come next. She went again to the gourd and poured more of the potent liquor into the coconut shell. Then, dipping her fingers into the milky drink, she rubbed it over her breasts with slow deliberation. Finished with that task, she untied the knot that held the bright sarong about her hips. It fell away, giving Zack his first look at the rest of her—a smooth, taut belly, narrow hips, and ebony fur dividing her thighs. He caught his breath at the sight of such beauty and felt as if he might strangle on his own need.

  Still standing over him, Mahianna proceeded to rub the rest of her body with the sweet liquor. When her copper-gold skin was glistening with the sugary substance, she knelt down and put the coconut shell to his lips. Zack drained the fiery contents thirstily. A new buzz sounded in his brain and he felt his manhood seize itself and shudder, straining to its fullest erection. There could be no more waiting. He must have her now!

  Mahianna, her peaked breasts glistening with the sweetness of the dried liquor, went into his eager arms. Zack leaned down to touch his tongue to one nipple. The taste was of sugar and wine and woman. His lips covered her, drawing her into his mouth. Now he knew the task she had set for him. He must drink the aphrodisiac film from her flesh before taking her. He went at it with a lusty thirst that only served to feed his hunger for her. Nipples, belly, the tender insides of her thighs. She moaned and cried and keened for him. She stroked him and clawed him, kissed him and bit him.

  And finally, when he had sipped the last drop of sweetness from her willing flesh, he sought out the sweetest spot of all. Wild now with desire, Zack plunged into his Mahianna, certain that he would die in the next instant if he was forced to wait any longer.

  She made no sound as he battered through her maidenhead, possessing her as no man ever had before. He •drew back for a moment, staring down at her face in disbelief. He had never taken a virgin before. But when he saw no pain in her eyes… when she smiled up at him and drew his mouth on hers, he thrust anew, feeling his desire rising with every new depth he conquered.

  When his body-shattering, soul-jarring, earth-shaking climax came at last, Mahianna shared it. So total was their exertion and their repletion that they fell asleep in each other’s arms almost immediately afterward. But during the coming sun-drenched, breeze-softened days in that island paradise, he had laughed and loved often—taking his Mahianna to the heights with him a dozen dozen times. Then he had sailed away, never to lay eyes on her again.

  “Hello there!”

  The woman’s voice wrenched Zachariah out of his erotic musings. He found he was sweating, trembling, and sporting a full erection from communing with his lusty memories of Mahianna’s love. And, with a jolt, he realized that he was looking not into the black eyes of his pagan lover, but into eyes as blue and bright as an untroubled South Pacific sky. However, far from diminishing the desire his memories of his island lover had fostered, he realized that the beautiful face and form before him only heightened his need. He wanted to lash out at her for tempting him so.

  “You came back, Persia.” His words were an accusation.

  How could this fire-haired temptress have presented herself to him at such an untimely moment? Did she know the dangerous position she had placed herself in? He needed a woman desperately. And it made damn little difference to him if she was an innocent New England maiden or a well-ridden professional.

  They came together on a sheltered part of the path. The other skaters had reached the pond, leaving the two of them all alone, far from chaperones and prying eyes. Blood pulsed hotly through his body. Granted, he had not been without a woman during the entire voyage of the Tongolese, but it had been over four months since they’d put into a port until this very day. This beautiful, eager-faced young woman had no idea the shaky ground she was treading. On half a dare, he would drag her into the nearby woods and shower her with the full breadth and depths of his passion. It would serve her right, he told himself.

  Zack rubbed a gloved hand over his face to wipe away the perspiration and to try to get hold of himself.

  She gave him a momentarily surprised look, then smiled. “How do you know my name? I don’t know yours.”

  “Easily taken care of.” His voice was gravelly, his throat dry. “Zachariah Hazzard. My friends call me Zack.”

  She curtsied and laughed softly. “Well, Zack, I’m very happy to meet you. But I still don’t understand how you know my name.”

  He started to tell her that he’d heard the driver address her, but measuring her in a quick glance, he decided that this young woman would be intrigued by the mystery of not knowing for sure.

  He glanced over one shoulder and then the other, as if making sure no one would overhear their conversation, then leaned so close he could smell her lilac cologne and whispered, “It came to me in a dream last night. I saw you standing at a window, your red hair glowing as you stared up at the sky, and a voice kept repeating, ‘Persia, Persia, Persia.’”

  Persia didn’t believe a word of it, but she loved his wild imagination and the way his lips pursed as if he might kiss her every time he said her name.

  Suddenly she frowned. Why had he mentioned seeing her at a window? Had he been watching her from the street before Europa snatched the curtains closed? One hand went to her breast as she thought of the thin camisole she’d been wearing. No! That was silly. He’d simply made the whole thing up.

  “I’m sorry my sister was rude to you, Zack.”

  “Sister? Rude? I didn’t notice anyone but you when we met a while ago.”

  He was handling himself well—breathing normally now, remembering his manners, making small talk as if he’d never had a thought in the world of forcing himself upon her.

  She laughed softly, a sound like gentle raindrops kissing a meadow of wild flowers on a summer afternoon.

  “Why, Miss Persia, how could I have eyes for anyone else with you before me?” His tone was slightly mocking, but his words amused her.

  Oh, he was a charmer! Imagine telling such a wonderful lie to impress her. There wasn’t a man alive who could help but notice the exquisite Europa Whiddington.

  She leaned close, putting a gloved hand beside her mouth, and whispered, her breath teasing his beard, “Whatever you do, Zack, don’t let on to Europa that you didn’t notice her. She’s not used to being ignored. She’d pout for days.”

  Persia watched an intense, smoldering mist descend over the seaman’s eyes. Suddenly
, realizing that they were alone on the path, she felt a nervous shiver pass through her. She took a step back, but he caught her wrist.

  “Don’t go!”

  He had tried his best, but a man had his limits. Her warm, mint-scented breath on his cheek had put all his senses into action once more. A man deserved something in the way of a welcome on his return from sea. And this red-haired beauty seemed just right for the welcoming-home ceremonies.

  Seizing Persia about the waist in a strong grip, Zack propelled her off the path into the deep woods.

  “What are you doing?”

  He didn’t answer. And he didn’t allow Persia to ask any more questions. When they were behind a large fir tree, he swept her into his arms, pulling her fast against him. Her struggle was instinctive, but it lasted only moments.

  Zack felt her body give in to his demands. He poised over her—eager for her touch, hungry for her lips, thirsty for the taste of a woman after so long. But not just any woman… this woman.

  Persia was stunned. Never had she dreamed of finding herself in such circumstances. What was she supposed to do? What would Europa do if she found herself in such a position? Faint, in all likelihood.

  But Persia was not one to take shelter in such feminine weakness. Her curiosity, her sense of adventure, and her budding womanhood were too strong. The man’s breath on her cheek was too caressing. The heat at the junction where his hips pressed hers was too tantalizing. And the feeling of his hard muscles even through the heavy clothing he wore brought back visions of him as he had appeared through her spyglass—almost naked, sweating even in the cold, teasing her senses to play tricks upon her ripe, virgin body.

  She felt the moist, demanding pressure of his stranger’s lips, urging her to submit. She was conscious of him, totally—the odors of salt and tar just as she had imagined earlier and the heat and rigidity surging from his loins. His hands were hard on her back, kneading the soft cashmere and fur even as his lips and tongue caressed her mouth. Soon her arms stole around him and she clung to him, wondering what in life had ever given her this much pleasure.

  She had never been kissed before, and her head went light and muddled. Confusion took possession of her brain. She should fight him, of course. After all, he was a stranger and a brash one at that. Europa, she knew, would swoon under these circumstances. But Persia was not like her sister.

  When he released her at last, Persia stood very still, staring at the serious lines of his face. She had half expected that he was making fun of her, taking advantage of a “silly child,” as her sister called her. But there was no mockery in Zachariah Hazzard’s expression, only an intense, burning look of desire. An expression that made her body tense and pulse with a mingling of dread and wanton longing.

  “You shouldn’t be here with me.” His voice was hard, edged with contained rage.

  Her own answer was little more than a whisper of breath from her swollen lips. “I know, Zack.”

  “Then why don’t you run away? I won’t stop you.”

  Persia hung her head for a moment, trying to sort out her confused feelings. She should go… yes! It was the only proper thing to do. But she didn’t want to go. She had enjoyed his kiss. Even now, she was experiencing the most delicious fires torching her whole body. She had never felt so alive… so much a woman.

  Why must everything wonderful be forbidden? she raged silently.

  “Last chance,” he said darkly. “Go now or…”

  Persia’s confusion fled. She looked up, gazing directly into the smoldering eyes trained on her face. Slowly, her hand came up and she twined for fingertips through the wrought-gold beard.

  “I don’t want to go, Zack.”

  Chapter Four

  So this was the secret wonder of being a woman. This was what it was all about. How marvelous!

  Persia’s head was still spinning and her blood pounding, but her mind was made up. She wanted to know everything! Until tonight, she had known almost nothing of life and love. But she had always been a bright pupil, and Zack was an extraordinary teacher.

  His hands were on her shoulders now, tightening and relaxing his hold rhythmically as he took deep, steadying breaths. All the while, his eyes searched hers, seeming to probe the very depths of her soul. His gaze made her wonderfully weak. She felt as if she were standing naked and defenseless before him. There was something utterly alluring about being so totally under this man’s spell. She wanted him to kiss her again. Desperately!

  “Zack, please…” she began, not knowing exactly what she meant to say.

  “Sh-h-h. Don’t break the spell. I’ve been a long time waiting for this moment.”

  He leaned down toward her, and his warm breath singed her flesh. She quivered. She sighed. She closed her eyes and waited.

  He touched her cheeks with gentle fingers, letting his thumbs brush over the trembling line of her mouth. Then, slowly, his hands slid inside her hood, forcing it to fall away. His fingers twined through her thick red hair—tugging, massaging, sending fire to her brain before it surged through the rest of her.

  Tenderly this time, he took her lips. Although he had been almost brutal in his hunger before, now he soothed her burning flesh, gliding the moist tip of his tongue over her full lips until she quaked and shuddered in his arms. She felt as if her body were melting where she stood. In the morning, the citizens of the village would come looking for her, but they would find nothing more than a smoldering pool of bright blue liquid here behind the fir tree where Zack had kissed her. She was sure of it!

  His tongue grew bolder, urging her to imitate his actions. Persia felt as if some other being held control over her body. Surely she was not the one allowing her fingers to steal through the coarse hair at the nape of his neck. And no proper New England lady would press her breasts so firmly to a stranger’s chest or feel such pleasure from the sweetly aching contact. Nor could Persia Whiddington’s delicate pink tongue be boldly gliding between his lips, searching the mysterious cavern of his mouth for its delicious hidden treasures. But he urged her on with his kiss, his touch, his very masculine nearness.

  When Zack released her from their second kiss, Persia felt the glowing night spinning around her. Her emotions seemed as bright and swirling as the aurora borealis still draping the night sky. She stared down at her body, amazed to find that it appeared exactly the same as before. She was sure she had changed in some way.

  He smiled suddenly and cupped her chin with one big hand. “We’d better join the others. I’m not sure these woods are safe, Persia.”

  Not understanding what he meant, she replied, “There’s no danger. There hasn’t been a panther seen in these parts in some years.”

  He took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes, unsmiling. “It’s not panthers you need to fear, my love. As for me, I’m sure the man in your life would dispatch me in short order, if he found me with you here.”

  Without another word, Zack took her arm in a gentlemanly fashion and guided her toward the skating pond.

  As much as she enjoyed skating, Persia had no desire now to join the others. She wanted more time with Zack. Hoping to slow his progress, she said, “There’s no other man in my life, Zack.”

  He stopped dead still and looked down at her. “You mean such a beauty isn’t spoken for?”

  She shook her head.

  “Are all men in York County blind, or has your family kept you locked in the attic your entire life?”

  “Neither,” she answered, suppressing a giggle. “I simply haven’t received any proposals.”

  “Well, we’ll soon fix that,” he replied in a voice half-teasing, half-serious. Persia couldn’t decide which, but she hoped he meant it. “There’s a man in your life now, Miss Persia. You can consider yourself spoken for. I won’t rush you, of course. I know that certain amenities are required. I must meet your parents, flatter your sister, and bide my time until I’m accepted by one and all. I plan to court y
ou good and proper.” He seemed to be talking to himself as much as to her.

  She looked up but couldn’t read his expression in the darkness. Now she was more confused than ever. Was he mocking her or proposing to her?

  Seeing her staring up at him, Zack broke into a broad smile, his teeth even and startlingly white against his dark skin.

  “Aye, it’s a lucky man who comes home from the sea to find a good wife waiting for him, so I’ve been told. When I marry, my bride will have treasures from around the world. And during the lonely years away, I’ll write to her faithfully—long love letters to make her weep with wanting me. I’ll make her a scrimshaw pie crimper out of a whale’s tooth. Mrs. Zachariah Hazzard will never want for fine silks or surprises.”

  Persia believed him totally. He seemed to be a man much like her own father—thoughtful, loving, born to the sea. He would make a wonderful, exciting husband. As for the surprises he promised, she had known him scarcely an hour and he had given her the greatest surprise of her life—first his kisses, and then his promise to court her. She could hardly wait to experience all the others he promised. If marriage followed, that was fine, too.

  Suddenly, she was frightened. What would her parents say? How would she explain to them that she was perfectly willing to marry a stranger who had literally accosted her on the front stoop and swept her off her feet and into the woods, where he had stolen her heart with a kiss?

  Never mind, she thought. He had promised to court her. Obviously Zack was a man of the world who knew the right way to go about things. She would trust him to win her parents over just as he had won her—instantly, totally, and forevermore.