Cajun looked down at her. It was the first time she had ever seen anger in those dark eyes. "You should not have been here."
She searched his face, not hearing and not caring because, "He killed him!" she cried in a sudden rush. "Diego was begging for his mercy—"
"Yes." Cajun stopped her. "And finally it was given. You do not understand, la niña" he added softly in answer to her confusion. "You are but a woman and a young one. Until the gods paint the world black and white, until you have perfect understanding, you have no right to pass judgment against any man, especially the man who has chosen you."
Confused and frightened, she tore from Cajun's arms and cried, "How can you speak to me so, when it was Justin who so cruelly passed judgment on life?"
He just stared at her. She was too young and innocent for a man like Justin. He would do no more explaining; it was not his place. Justin would do so and in his own time.
Cajun merely shook his head in answer and turned away. Leaving her alone and frightened, frightened by a man and his harsh world, a world that offered no escape.
* * * * *
Christina was lost in a debilitating numbness that could not overcome an increasing anxiety. Justin had been gone for three days now and no one had seen him. For this she was glad and had it been in her power to snap her fingers and disappear, never to see him again, she would not hesitate. But she would see him again, and soon.
What would she do? What would she say? She didn't know; didn't know how she could know. She could not escape the nightmarish vision of that night: Justin standing over a man who had fallen to his knees, helpless with pain and begging for mercy. Then, Justin cruelly lifting him to deceive with an embrace before...
Christina started, realizing she had been staring numbly into the gray depths of the lagoon for nearly an hour, lost to the vision that haunted even her sleep. Fresh water rushed into salt. The morning's gray sky painted the lagoon and the ocean beyond gray, a bleak and dismal gray that seemed to offer no hope.
Christina had been sitting by herself on the beach for a long time, too long, Hanna thought. As she made her way down the beach toward her friend, she had known something troubled Christina for some time. Christy had been all to herself since Justin went hunting and the ill man had been buried. While Christy had taken a fancy to Diego, she seemed far more troubled than grieved. Something was wrong, she just knew it. She had tried many times to earn her friend's confidence but to no avail; Christina would only say it was of no real concern.
Hanna beckoned softly from behind. "Christy?"
Christina turned and saw Hanna. In that moment and for no apparent reason, the world suddenly came into sharp focus and she knew what she would do.
She would leave him. Until that was possible, she would avoid him. There would be times when avoidance was impossible; mayhap he would force his company upon her, physically or otherwise. There was little she could do to stop him. But she could disappear perhaps for days on end if she hid in the wilds and at least then, when the opportunity came to leave him, it would come as no surprise.
As for her love, a love she suddenly knew as real and passionate and undying, she would just have to accept it for what it was—a mistake. This was not a paradox, for she quite literally loved him against her will, but she would not submit to that love—no matter how powerful—with a lifetime of anguish.
"Christy?" Hanna beckoned again, disturbed by the determined stare, "why are ye lookin' like that?"
Everything came with the fresh vision of a babe in arms. Hanna, sweet Hanna. The island had transformed her as well. Whereas Lady Knolls had tumbled down the formidable class structure, Hanna had been elevated. Once merely a plump, jolly maid, now elevated to the lofty position of a sea captain's wife. A great equalizer this island was; shifting and shaping lives irrevocably.
"Have you noticed how much we've all changed on the island," she asked quietly.
Hanna could not fathom where this question arose from but determined to engage her friend in any conversation, she brightened and quickly agreed. "Oh aye." She first laughed, running a hand through her red curls. "I've lost my plumpness and gained a sea c'tain for me 'usband. As soon as we're back, I'm gonna purchase the fanciest rags imaginable, rags fit fer a queen. Then I'm gonna walk into the finest shop in all of London and I'm gonna say, 'I want this and that and this and oh heavens no! Silver 'twill never do, never. Must be gold, real gold, fer nothin's too good for the likes of me,' " and she curtsied, "a sea captain's wife."
Christina smiled at the song and dance, the first smile in what felt like a long time. Hanna was lovely now, no doubt about it and she was certain to do fine as Jacob's wife—provided she had voice lessons. Nothing separated class as much as elocution. Hanna lost weight and gained the status of a sea captain's wife; she lost her innocence and gained an unwanted love.
"Do come see your cave, Christy." Hanna tried again to cheer her friend with the news that Jacob just finished making a table and chairs for them. "All the fixin's are in and whilst the table and chair would 'ardly impress a lady, they be real nice and Elsie and I fixed a fresh bed for the two of you—"
That was the wrong thing to say. "I don't want to," Christina interrupted unkindly and abruptly turned back around.
Determined, Hanna tried again. "Then, what say ye, we go check the traps and pick some fruits?" There came no reply. So she added hopefully, "Jacob says 'twill be the last chance before the storm comes."
Christina translated this into the last chance she might have to escape. Justin would surely return with the storm and if she could lose Hanna in the forest...
"Very well," she said shortly.
Losing Hanna proved easy business. Once in the forest Hanna busied herself with the task, chatting amicably as though nothing was wrong and apparently not requiring response from her. With Hanna's back turned, Christina quietly slipped through the trees and was off, planning to return to the first wood tents three miles up the beach. The tents would provide shelter and no one would think to look for her there, at least not for a while.
A warm breeze blew strongly through the trees as she picked her way slowly through the forest, always watchful of the lizard beasts. The first sight of a small lizard scurrying over the ground almost sent her running back. Should she suffer one of the those nightmares alone...
She stopped, unconsciously rubbing the scar on her leg. No, she could endure it alone; she had to.
Suddenly, a muted cry—distinguishable from all outer exotic calls of jungle—broke the quiet. It came from the interior of the island. She listened, waiting at first, hearing only her heartbeat and even breathing against the backdrop of birds, trees rustled by the wind and a small stream burbling somewhere behind her. Then it came again.
Someone was in agony or pain...
Without thinking what it might be, she started toward the cry, at first moving slowly but then faster and faster as the sound grew louder. She began running as much as this was possible through the thickness of the jungle. Arms fought to clear a path through the overhanging vines, ferns, and towering rubber tree plants seconds before her bare feet touched moist earth.
A wide trunk, strangled by vines and thereby hidden, lay menacingly across her path and she tripped and flew crashing to the ground. She fell hard; her shift caught under her knees and ripped at the seams. For several seconds she remained on her hands and knees with her face reddening, staring at the large tear in the only "decent" garment left.
The next agonized cry bid her quick recovery and she scrambled to her feet and was off. She stopped after some distance and, realizing she had passed it, she waited for the next cry to orient directions. It was very close now. An animal in pain, she realized, turning toward it and now exercising caution.
She finally reached a small clearing along the banks of a trickle of a stream and she stopped, stared, needing several long seconds to grasp what it was. The cries seemed to come from the very earth itself. Nearby, hanging grotesquely from
a tree, was a dead bird. Its belly had been slit, blood and entrails spilled to the ground. Suddenly she saw there was a huge pit dug in the earth, camouflaged with leaves and twigs. Attracted by the bird, the creature had fallen into the pit and was now crying for escape. She slowly inched forward, afraid of what it might be.
Picking up a stick, she poked the earth in front of her, not wanting to make the same mistake as the creature of slipping on insecure ground. She came to the edge and peered inside, gasping instinctively.
It was a large piglike creature, wider and almost as large as Beau, another one of the island's boars. His cries had died to helpless whimpers and her heart broke as she watched his hoofed foot paw futilely at the loose soil of the earth. Sensing her presence, he turned his head and locked small dark eyes with hers. There was no fear or anger or threat from this her natural predator. Just a weak cry. A cry she knew as one for help.
She didn't know what to do. She should run to fetch Cajun, who could probably dig him back out, but she wondered if there was enough time. The poor creature could be injured from the fall but surely he would die of fright before then...
She looked around for a means to bring him water, hoping this would hold him over until help came. Finding nothing, she glanced at her skirt and never hesitated. She tore the skirt completely from the seams, doubled it over, and turned to the stream. Using the material like a cast, she filled it with water and hurriedly brought it to the edge of the pit, then lowered it by the ends until the knapsack of water reached the creature's head.
The distressed creature cried out at this new torment but then, realizing what it was, he thirstily lapped it up and Christina smiled.
"Get the hell away from there, Christina!"
Christina's startled eyes shot up to see Justin moving swiftly toward her. She dropped the wet skirt on the boar's head and stumbled back to a stunned sitting position. Tall and now so dark from the long months in the sun, clad only in breeches and with a bow swung around his chest, he looked like a savage. A dagger and a saber hung from a thick black belt at his waist.
Frightened and not knowing exactly why, she tried to scramble to her feet but not in time. Like an angry hawk, Justin swooped down upon her and lifted her to safe ground beneath a huge willowlike tree away from the pit.
"Have you no sense, girl?" He stared down at her furiously. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Fear mingled with alarm. He might indeed have been a savage, cursing in an alien tongue, the way she stared up at him in terrified incomprehension. She felt the unleashed violence radiating from him, barely controlled, and like the first time she saw those sharp features on his bronzed face, his devastating gaze, or felt his strength, she wanted to run.
"Well?" he demanded harshly.
"I... I heard him crying and I thought to bring him water—"
"Water?"
Another woman would have slapped the cruel grin that spread across his face as he considered this. She held herself perfectly still though and dared not breathe, for his gaze lowered to her bare form and made her at once acutely conscious of the absurdity of her half-naked figure. She had on only the torn bodice of an old nightgown and a loincloth, that was all.
Justin almost laughed as her arms crossed protectively over herself. She was the last person he needed to see here, dressed like that and performing the ridiculous stunt of bringing water to a doomed boar. He couldn't trust himself with her; she was the reason he stayed away. Until he found some peace, extirpated the seething emotions of his heart, he knew he could hurt her and badly.
After having lost a fine chase, Beau raced into the clearing. He sniffed out the boar and barked excitedly, prancing back and forth. Justin glanced at his dog and the pit, then turned back.
"Go back to the others, Christina," he said in dismissal as he released her and turned to the pit. "I'm in no mood to play the dashing gent out to win his maiden's affection."
His tone should have warned her but something held her to the spot. She realized in an instant that Justin had built the trap, that Justin was going to kill the poor animal just like—"Don't kill him!"
He swung back around to confront her, standing feet away and in a pleading pose.
"Please..." Her voice trailed off and her eyes lowered, both embarrassed and confused by the desperation in her request.
But Justin understood only too well. "Spare the boar and find redemption?" he questioned incredulously, then shook his head and chuckled contemptuously. "You are so innocent, Christina. It will take a damn bit more than a boar to give me redemption. Now get out of here."
He called Beau down. The dog sat back obediently as Justin straddled the pit. He removed his saber and using both hands, he raised the sword over his head. Wide-eyed, terrified, Christina clasped a hand over her mouth to stop the scream in her throat, refusing still to believe he would.
The doomed creature cried as Justin swung the sharp blade into his neck with all his strength, killing the creature instantly, mercifully. A fountain of blood spurted into the air, dying quickly, and the creature collapsed. With some effort, he pulled the sword from the flesh, wiped the blade on moss, and then knelt by the stream to clean the sword thoroughly.
Christina never understood what came over her but it was as close to a crazed madness as she would ever trespass. She forced herself forward until she stood at the edge of the pit looking down as though she had to see to believe. The sight sent her heart pounding frantically, her face reddened, and her fist clenched as she stumbled back beneath the willow tree in repulsion.
"You killed him!"
Justin was surprised she was still there. "Yes, Christina," he said calmly now, "I killed him."
"You killed him," she repeated in a demand for his remorse, guilt, anything but the calm acceptance of the unforgivable. "He was so helpless... begging you for mercy... and, and you killed him!"
"You don't know what you're talking about, Christina—"
"I do! I was there and saw it... I saw Diego on his knees, begging you... I heard him—"
"Stop it!" he yelled sharply. "I'm not going to listen to this from you."
"No." She shook her head. "No, you won't listen to me, like you wouldn't listen to him! Not when he called you his brother, when he said he loved you—"
The words triggered an explosive response that brought Justin to his feet, moving to her in two swift strides. All his pain and anger rushed to the surface, and he stared at her furiously, daring her to say a single other word.
She did not back away and instead cried, "You're cruel and vicious and I hate you for it... I hate—"
Justin grabbed her arm and clamped his hand over her mouth, stopping himself from shaking her senseless.
Christina tried futilely to pull free and then in desperation bit her teeth hard into his hand until she drew blood. His hand jerked back from her mouth but it wasn't enough. She was suddenly crazed, wild, sending her clenched fists pounding against his chest as she cried, "I hate you... I hate you! I'll never forgive you for—"
Justin grabbed her fists, forcing her assaulting arms behind her back and her entire body into a tight hold against his. Outwardly he seemed dispassionate, but inwardly he teemed with emotions as he watched her struggle for all she was worth. She would not cease, her own emotions fueling a strength she did not normally own.
He could not stop his response. He wanted to subdue her; an act to extirpate his own pain and guilt, if only for the moment. He held her arms with one hand, while his other grabbed a handful of her loosened hair, forcing her head back. She cried out once, the shock of it hitting her as his mouth crushed against hers. She clenched her teeth together but his tongue plunged savagely into her, prying the warm recesses of her mouth open to him.
She tried to fight him—oh how she tried to stop him—but his strength was inviolate and the kiss, given with as much pleasure as pain, seemed interminable. The force of it drained her as his strength consumed her and she felt herself growing limp, we
ak-kneed, and helpless.
His mouth left hers suddenly and she drew a gasping breath as he lifted her hair back to press moist lips along her neck. Chills dashed along her spine and she cried out softly, whether in protest or not she hardly knew, for she could not separate the fire from the fear and outrage pounding in her heart. Then he was kissing her again while his free hand tore open the buttons of her ripped bodice. A simple tug freed her from the loincloth. And his lips never left her, even as he pulled off his belt and shrugged from his breeches, even as he brought her to the mossy blanket beneath the canopy of a willow tree.
She didn't know when exactly the violence of his passion changed, transformed by the very act itself, but at some point after his joining, his tension and anger collapsed, dissipated, expelled. He began calling her, whispering impassioned words of love and never had she been so vulnerable to him. She could not resist, not mind, body, or soul. He sent her nearly swooning into blackness with waves of ecstasy only to return to feel his final release pierce her to the very depth of her soul.
When she finally lay still in his arms, shielded in the warmth of his body, listening to the steady beat of his heart, she heard the soft sound of a light rain falling against the earth. Like an umbrella, the swooping branches of the tree protected them and created a peaceful illusion of isolation from any profanity of the outside world, as if they were truly alone. Even Beau would not disturb this peace; he lay quietly at their side.
She loved him, and while her resolve was the same, the stirring of the depth of her love made it that much harder. The thought of just how much she loved him made her suddenly start to cry. Justin's arms tightened around her, his hand combed through her hair. "I'm sorry, Christina. I'm sorry."
"Why, Justin?" she managed to whisper through her tears. "Just tell me why?"
Justin remained silent for a long while. She deserved to understand, he knew. In a perfect world she would have known without being told; or at least her love would have bid her to trust. Trust him; trust him enough to know he would not take life ruthlessly. The odd thing was he knew—even before he told her—that her understanding would still bring condemnation. She would never speak it to him but her heart would condemn killing in any form, even as an act of mercy.
Horsman, Jennifer Page 21
