Nathaniel flicked the hair from his face and caught his breath, happy he had dissolved the situation without injury. “’Tis just a bit of sand, Major. You will recover.”
“Scads, Major.” Mr. Hendrick rushed to his friend and helped him up. “Quit blabbering like a fool.”
Shaking off Mr. Hendrick’s grasp, Major Paine narrowed his streaming eyes upon Nathaniel. “You shall pay for this affront.”
Nathaniel chuckled and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Though he would like nothing more than to challenge the man to a rematch, he had more important matters to deal with than feeding his pride and belittling the major. Turning, he tossed the sword, hilt first, to Mr. Keese, who caught it with a wink, then pressed the tip into the sand and leaned on the silver handle.
Hope’s wide blue eyes, beaming with admiration, caught Nathaniel’s gaze. A rush of warmth flooded him, and he tore his gaze away, returning his focus to Major Paine.
“Now, apologize, if you please.”
“I meant no insult to you, miss,” Major Paine whispered to the sand beside his feet.
“Very well. You may have your sword back, sir, when you promise to behave.” Nathaniel grunted. “We are all stuck on this island for the unforeseen future, and we can best survive if we cooperate.”
The major shifted his shoulders as if trying to regain his dignity. “You may do as you wish, Mr. Mason, but I intend to build a raft and leave this savage place as soon as possible. With or without you.” He puffed out his chest and glanced first at the ladies, then behind him at the sailors. “Who is with me?” Water streamed from his reddened eyes.
Mr. Hendrick clapped a hand on the major’s shoulder. “You can count on me.” He peered around Nathaniel toward his wife. “I have no intention of living under these barbaric conditions until a ship happens along. Absurd! Come along, dear.” He crooked a finger toward his wife.
With a groan, Mrs. Hendrick labored to her feet, took Elise by the hand, and joined her husband.
The major raised a brow toward Hope and Miss Sheldon, pasting on what he perhaps assumed was the alluring smile of a courtier, but instead it made him look more like a court jester.
Turning, Nathaniel faced the ladies, stepping aside to give them a pathway toward the major should they desire to go with him, but neither made a move.
The two sailors ambled over to stand behind Nathaniel.
The major’s crimson face broke out in a sweat. Swerving on his heels, he marched away, kicking up sand as he went. Mr. Hendrick gave them all a haughty look, grabbed his wife and child, and followed after him.
***
Nathaniel plunged into the forest, hacking his way through the vines and branches with his sword in one hand and swatting them aside with a bucket in the other. If Mr. Keese hadn’t gathered a bundle of weapons from the ship and passed them around in the cockboat, they’d be defenseless. Of course, Nathaniel had not carried a weapon on his person earlier in the day when Major Paine had decided to make himself king of the island. But then, a swordfight was the last thing Nathaniel had expected.
He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
He slashed through a moss-covered branch, venting some of his anger. Tie him to a tree, indeed. If Major Paine had succeeded with his plan, they all would be lost. For he doubted the man knew how to survive in the tropics, let alone how to make a raft seaworthy enough to sail to Puerto Rico. Drawing a deep breath of the moist, earthy air, he pushed aside a thicket of ferns. He knew he was supposed to love his fellow man, but how did one love such a portentous mongrel?
And Mr. Hendrick was no better. For some reason, Nathaniel had expected more of him. Surely a man of Mr. Hendrick’s position and accomplishments should possess some measure of wisdom and benevolence. Yet he conducted himself with no more judicious civility than that dunderhead, Paine. A vision of the blundering look on Major Paine’s face when Nathaniel had dispatched with him so quickly filled his mind. He grinned.
But a gentle nudge within put a halt to his thoughts. Lord, forgive my pride.
Still, both men had made their position clear. And that position was in direct opposition to Nathaniel. He grunted. Not only must he protect and provide for the survivors of the storm, but now he must battle an enemy camp.
Nathaniel stopped to catch his breath, and the buzz and whine of insects filled his ears. He waved them off, forming the only hint of a breeze in the stifling forest. Sweat streamed down his back, and his shirt, which had just begun to dry after the storm, grew damp again.
Major Paine’s peevish face filled his vision, and he slashed through another leafy branch and forged ahead. All his life, men of position and power had looked down their haughty noses at him—the son of a trollop, a pauper, a poor merchantman—assuming he had no more brains than he had money. All his life, he’d fought against their disdain, their disfavor, trying to prove his value, his ability, his intelligence. And wasn’t he well on his way? He had built two ships of his own, and if he hadn’t been forced to sell one...
His thoughts drifted to Hope, and he tried to conjure up further anger to fuel his expedition through the tangled forest, but the vision of her tossing her pert little nose in the air as she stomped away from him and Miss Sheldon cooled his humor.
Jealous. Why did the thought delight him so? Birds chirped overhead, and he gazed up at their bright colors: red, purple, and blue—stark against the dark green canvas. Beautiful, colorful creatures, just like Hope, creatures that drew all admiring eyes their way, creatures who basked in the attentions they received. No, Hope wasn’t jealous of Miss Sheldon. No doubt she was simply envious of any attentions not tossed her way.
The gushing sound he’d been listening for reached his ears, and he slashed his way toward it, finally bursting into a small clearing. A cascade of white, silky water spilled from a cliff nigh ten yards high into a large pond of liquid emerald. A pristine image of the myriad trees and colorful flowers reflected off the pond as if proud to display God’s creation back to heaven. Amazed at the beauty of the Creator’s handiwork, Nathaniel dropped to his knees and scooped handfuls of the liquid to his mouth and then splashed it over his head and neck and eased it over the blisters on his hands. At least they’d have plenty of fresh water to drink.
He sat for several minutes, breathing in the musky smells and relishing his time alone. The rustle of leaves reached his ears.
“Mr. Mason!”
He jerked around at the sweet sound of his name on feminine lips. An “ouch” chirped from a cluster of giant fig leaves, which then parted, and Hope stumbled into the clearing.
She glanced over the scenery and let out a sigh of delight. “’Tis like paradise.” She looked at him, then bit her lip. Eyes as blue as the sea gripped him, and Nathaniel sensed that just like the sea, they covered a depth no one suspected. Her golden hair the color of the sun fell to her waist in a mass of tangled curls. She shifted her bare feet over the sandy soil and fingered the torn lace dangling from her neckline, in a futile attempt to put it back into place.
She appeared like a fallen angel, who against all odds had fought her way into heaven. Shaking the image, he tried to quell the sudden beating of his heart and turned to face the pond. He perched on a boulder under the pretense of stretching his legs “What are you doing here?” he said a bit too harshly. “’Tis not safe for you to be wandering about.” Fire and thunder, the last thing he needed was to be alone in the forest with this enchantress.
“Why did you come here, then?”
“To find fresh water.” He grabbed the bucket and dipped it in the pond. “You could have gotten lost.”
Her soft footsteps approached.
“Oh pah. I followed your trail. ’Twas quite clear. Besides, I knew you were hurt.” She pointed to the streak of red on his shirt where he’d shoved aside Major Paine’s blade. “And I...” She looked down. “I thought I’d tend to your wound.”
He stared at her creamy skin tinted pink from the morning’s sun. “Why?” He co
uld think of no rational reason she would struggle through the bugs and vines to dress a scratch on his arm—no reason save the one that frightened him the most.
A flicker of pain accused him from her eyes. “You were injured defending my honor. It’s the least I can do.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” He set the full bucket between them, water sloshing over the sides.
“I owe you everything, Mr. Mason.” She glanced his way, then swerved around. “I owe you a ship, for one thing; my life, for another.” He heard the tearing of fabric. “And now I owe you for standing up to that bully, Major Paine.” He thought he saw her shudder before she faced him. “I do not trust him.” She angled around the bucket and knelt beside him, two strips of cloth in hand. “Nor Mr. Hendrick. Their behavior toward you was inexcusable.”
She dipped one cloth into the bucket and wrung it out. “Now let me see your arm.”
“It is quite well, I assure you.” Nathaniel inched away from her, not at all pleased with the way his body suddenly heated. He should be angry with her, furious. She’d caused him nothing but grief since the day he’d seen her on St. Kitts. He wouldn’t even be on this island if not for her. And now he’d be forced to do the one thing he sought to avoid the most. Spend more time with her.
Birds fluttered and squawked overhead as though warning him about something.
“I promise I won’t bite.” Her eyes sparked with playfulness.
Her lips angled slightly in a pert little smile. He licked his own, remembering the kiss they’d shared on board the merchantman. Her lingering look suggested she had remembered it, too. “I’m not so sure.” He grinned.
She blinked and glanced away as her cheeks reddened. “If you’re referring to our kiss, I assure you it will not happen again.”
Her words plummeted to the bottom of his gut.
“I am determined to change, Mr. Mason. Now, are you going to let me tend to your wound, or have I floundered through this swamp for no reason?”
Nathaniel gazed at the determined look on her face and decided the sooner he complied, the quicker they could part company. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the ground.
Hope’s gaze lingered on his chest, and she fumbled with the cloth.
He shot her a playful look. “Have I offended you?”
“Of course not. ’Tis not like I haven’t seen a man’s bare chest be—” She slammed her mouth shut and dabbed the cloth on his wound. “Well, you know what I mean.”
Yes, he did. And the reminder poured a bucket of cold water onto his simmering passions. She was a woman who toyed with men like playthings, a woman familiar with the intimate affections of men.
A woman not to be trusted.
She dipped the cloth into the bucket again, then squeezed it and finished cleaning his cut, the features of her face pinched in concentration.
Swatting at an annoying fly, she grabbed the dry cloth and wound it around his arm. “You were brave today. I’ve not seen anything like it. Not many men would have handled things so well with a sword pointed at their neck.”
“It was nothing.” Then why did his chest surge at her praise?
“Nevertheless, I find great comfort knowing you’ll be looking out for us until a ship arrives.”
Nathaniel’s breath took a sudden leap into his throat. Was she flirting with him? After she’d announced her determination to change? He stared at her. But she remained focused on his arm, wrapping his wound with care, seemingly unaware of the effect her words had on him, not to mention how his skin heated each time her fingertips brushed across it. Purely a physical reaction to a beautiful woman. That was all. Nothing more.
“Why have you really come out here?” he asked, hoping to dissolve the mist of allure that hovered around her.
She gave a ladylike snort, crossed two ends of the cloth together, and tightened his bandage into a knot.
“Ouch.” Pain shot up his arm, and he jerked away.
“That should take care of it.” She struggled to her feet, hiding her face from him. “Good-bye, Mr. Mason.”
Nathaniel grabbed her hand before she could turn away. Tears swam in her eyes. Perhaps she had come to help him out of the kindness of her heart. He was a cad. He should apologize but changed the subject instead. “You stood up to them well.”
“Who?” She jerked from his grasp and turned her back to him.
“Major Paine and Mr. Hendrick.” Nathaniel stood. His arm burned, and he rubbed his wound. It hadn’t pained him before Hope had attended it.
“Not very ladylike, I suppose.” She huffed.
“Ladylike or not, I appreciated it.” Hope may not be a saint, but she had spunk, to be sure. Nathaniel’s mother had been unable to stand up to anyone—had allowed men and women alike to abuse and take advantage of her. But not Hope.
“Truly?” She swerved about, and her hand slammed against his wounded arm.
He winced and let out a ragged breath.
“Oh, I am so clumsy. Please forgive me, Mr. Mason.” She reached out to touch him, but he backed away, his arm still stinging.
When the pain subsided, he drew in a deep breath. True concern burned within her blue eyes, and an overwhelming urge to protect her rose within him. She exuded a charm, an appeal that transcended her beauty. Coupled with her ill reputation, it made her easy prey. He saw the way Major Paine looked at her, not to mention Mr. Keese’s playful flirtations. He must protect her and provide for her—if she didn’t kill him first. He grinned. A weight settled on his shoulders like none he’d known before. Many years had passed since he’d been responsible for the welfare of another. Not since caring for his mother as a young boy.
And that hadn’t turned out well at all.
“Shall I see to your chin?” She reached up to touch him, but he jerked away. “Nay, it’s fine.” He doubted his body could handle any more of her close ministrations.
“I don’t have the plague, Mr. Mason.” She blinked and dropped her hand to her side. “You treat me in the same manner as Mrs. Hendrick does.”
“That is not my intention. It’s simply that ... well...” Nathaniel rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve suffered more misfortune these past five days than I’ve suffered in several years.”
Her brow puckered. “And you’re saying it’s my fault?”
“There was my ship, of course.”
“I suppose you’re still angry about that.” She kicked the sandy soil.
“I’m trying not to be.”
“Try harder.” She mimicked the same words he’d said to her back on the merchantman when she’d announced her efforts to behave. “Besides, I told you my father would give you another.”
“Hmm. Then, I was nearly crushed by a bundle of crates on board the brig.”
“You can hardly blame me for that.”
“And I lost all of my belongings.”
She pursed her lips and looked away, her face reddening.
“Then the hurricane.”
“Now storms are also my fault?” Her bottom lip quivered. “Next you’ll be blaming me for droughts and famines and wars.”
“You haven’t been to Spain lately, have you?” He grinned, picturing the havoc she might have wreaked amidst Spain’s recent attempt to conquer Italy.
“How dare ... of course not!”
“And let us not forget that Major Paine nearly sliced me in two.” He raised a brow.
She hugged herself and thrust out her chin. “I didn’t ask you to defend me.”
Moments passed as Nathaniel studied her. The laughter of splashing water and the warble of happy birds did naught to ease the tension between them. She stared at the pond, her eyes misting, and Nathaniel swallowed his rising guilt. He’d wanted her to know what he’d suffered at her expense, but found the sorrow lining her face brought him no pleasure. He opened his mouth to apologize when she shot eyes that now sparked in anger his way.
“Since you find my company so dangerous, I shall relieve you o
f it.” She clutched her skirt and swung about, stomping toward the edge of the trees.
“Wait. You shouldn’t go alone,” Nathaniel yelled after her, but the wall of green swallowed her whole.
“I am not your concern.” Her sharp voice warbled from the thicket.
Grabbing the bucket and his shirt, Nathaniel trudged after her, wishing with all his heart that her words were true.
CHAPTER 15
Hope blew out a sigh, annoyed at the constant prickling over her skin. She lifted the hem of her skirt to scratch the tiny red marks sprinkled over her legs—courtesy of unseen fleas that lived in the sand and feasted on human flesh. Just another amenity of this tropical paradise. Flipping down the filthy fabric, she drew her knees to her chest. Before her, the Caribbean Sea shimmered like a giant sapphire in the noonday sun. Wavelets formed intricate designs along the smooth shore, but despite her efforts to admire the scenery, her gaze kept wandering to the tall, bare-chested, sun-bronzed man with wavy hair the color of a dark walnut, who stood knee-deep in the surf with spear in hand. The muscles of his arms bulged as he tensed for the kill, reminding her of their time in the untamed forest four days ago when he’d doffed his shirt so suddenly. She hadn’t expected to find such a firmly muscled chest and finely chiseled arms beneath his scraps of soiled linen. Nor had she expected the sudden heat that claimed her when his bare chest came into view. And he’d noticed her reaction, only adding to her mortification.
But from beneath the shade of this tall palm, she could admire Nathaniel discreetly. Certainly there was no harm in that.
“He presents quite a handsome figure, does he not?” Abigail’s teasing tone jarred Hope and brought her gaze to the girl sitting beside her, weaving thin, pointed leaves into some sort of basket. Was there nothing Abigail couldn’t do? She had been so quiet, her presence had slipped from Hope’s mind.
Feeling her face heat, Hope started to deny she’d been gazing at Nathaniel, but why bother? Apparently Abigail had been doing the same. Hope dismissed the familiar jab of jealousy. How could she blame her friend? Especially when she was a far more suitable match for Nathaniel than Hope would ever be.
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