She was too busy pointing out features of the island and bombarding him with questions. Most of which he answered with a noncommittal grunt.
“Do you see the palm trees?” Anne hugged herself, barely able to contain her happiness and relief. “Fresh coconut. Won’t some coconut milk taste wonderful?”
“Aye.” He no longer sang, now whistling the same tune through his teeth.
“Do you suppose there’s fresh water? And something to eat? And people?” She did look around at him now. “What if the island is populated? With houses and beds and... Oh, wouldn’t that be grand?”
But the closer they got the more obvious it was that this was one of the multitude of islands that dotted the Caribbean, uncharted and unpopulated. Beyond the stretch of white sand rimmed by palms was an interior of scrub pines and bushes, molded by their exposure to the constant trade winds. Not exactly hospitable surroundings, but after days at sea in a small boat, the island looked like heaven.
Anne’s exuberance was such that when the bottom finally skimmed sand, she leaped from the boat, splashing through the surf to dance around on the shore. “What a beautiful island,” she sang, throwing her arms out and twirling about. “What shall we name it do you think? Something magical. Camelot, perhaps? Or Heaven?”
“What about Dolphin Island?”
Anne stopped turning about and faced the captain. He still sat in the boat, hands wrapped around the oar handles, body slumped forward, as if his muscles had turned to stone when he finally reached shore. She took a step toward him. “You must be...” Anne hesitated, she couldn’t think of a word to describe how tired he looked. “Come, let me help you.”
“I can manage, Annie, thank ye.” He moved then, slowly pulling in the oars and standing to survey the beach. Then he, too, leaped into the gentle waves and pulling the boat with him, stumbled onto the beach.
He barely cleared the froth of surf when he sank to the sand. He sprawled out, and before Anne’s surprised eyes fell into a deep sleep.
“Captain?” Anne inched closer to him, at first worried that perhaps he died. But her hands settled at her waist when she heard his first deep snore. She bent down to shake his shoulder. “Don’t you think we should look for water?” No response except his continued even breathing. “Or find something to eat?” Again nothing. “Or build some sort of shelter?” This time he mumbled something, but Anne couldn’t make it out. And it was obvious he wasn’t going to wake up.
So she stood and looked around herself. She was hungry, but not brave enough to explore the island’s interior on her own. So she settled for sorting through the coconuts she found on the ground, shaking each in turn, and collecting three that sloshed with milk.
Using her knife she gouged out the holes and gulped down the milky liquid. Again she tried to wake the captain to offer him some, but he wouldn’t budge. So she drank all three.
Then with a sigh she snuggled down on the beach beside the captain. She supposed building a shelter would have to wait until morning.
~ ~ ~
She awoke late and alone. Anne stretched, digging her hands into the sun-warmed sand to assure herself that finding the island wasn’t just a dream. Taking a deep breath she sat up, annoyed with herself that she missed the captain’s bulk beside her.
The sun was nearing its zenith, a fact that made Anne jump to her feet. She never slept this late. Never. And especially when there was work to be done. Twisting around she searched the area for the captain.
At first all she could see was blue sky, turquoise sea, white sand and when she looked behind her, the shadowy green of the interior. Just as Anne was ready to call out, she heard a splash near one of the curving arms of coral rock. Shading her eyes against the glaring sun, Anne made out the captain. And Lucy, the dolphin.
“So, they’ve found each other,” she mumbled as she walked purposefully toward the shore. When the lapping surf licked over her toes Anne paused. Cupping her hands she shouted his name.
After the second time, he heard her and threw up his hand. But he seemed in no particular hurry to return to shore. Anne stood, her patience growing thinner as he continued to swim and cavort with Lucy. By the time he finally began a leisurely paddle toward the island, Anne had worn a path in the sand with her pacing.
He emerged from the water, his body, the hard planes and muscles, the wide expanse of bronzed skin, sleek with moisture. He was wearing breeches, but they molded sensually to every part of him. Anne tried to swallow, but couldn’t.
“Well, of course my mouth is dry,” she said almost belligerently. “I’m thirsty.” Being annoyed with the captain seemed preferable to swooning at his feet, which was what Anne thought she might do when he lifted his arms to rake the long hair back from his face. “You should have awakened me,” was all Anne said before proceeding to tramp back and forth in her footprints.
“Ye seemed to need the rest.” Jamie picked up his shirt where he’d tossed it on the beach and dried his face.
“Well, yes,” Anne conceded. “I suppose I did.” She angled him a look. “But I don’t usually sleep so late. Especially when there’s so much to be done.”
The captain merely shrugged. “I caught some fish.” He nodded toward a pile of seaweed farther down the beach. “But I didn’t think they’d last long in this sun.”
She was glad to see he’d done something besides play with the dolphin. Though she did expect the sea creature deserved their undying thanks. Not that she thought it purposely brought them here, but it was lucky that the captain believed in myths enough to head south.
“What about water?” Anne faced him again.
“What of it?” Jamie settled down in the sand and tilted his head to look up at her.
“Is there any fresh water on the island?” Anne tried to keep her exasperation from seeping into her voice. It was difficult when he merely shrugged. “Don’t you think we should look?”
“Aye,” he said but made no sign of getting up. “Though we might want to eat something first.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Anne walked beside the captain as he ambled toward his stash of fish. “Then we can explore the island and see about building a shelter, and—”
With one finger pressed to her lips Jamie silenced her. “Let’s just think about breaking our fast first.”
All Anne could do was nod. What was it about him that made her feel so tingly all over? She stepped away from his touch, nearly tripping over her feet in the process. She needed to free her mind of this affliction. After all, they were stuck here alone on this island. “You’re right, of course. We’ll eat first.”
“Actually, I had something else in mind to do.”
“You did?” Anne’s voice came out as a squeak because he reached forward and began unhooking her jacket.
“Now I know ye thought ’twas necessary to disguise yourself with dirt before. But we seem to be the only people here, and I know your little secret.”
He was undressing her as a mother would a child, first one arm out of the coat, then the other. And Anne just stood there entranced, letting him.
“Ye have yourself a giant tub of warm water, there. Now I realize ’tis not fresh, but I assure you ’tis better than nothing.”
“You want me to bathe?”
“Aye, ’tis the general idea.”
“But... there’s no privacy.”
His grin was naughty. “I’ll turn me back.”
She didn’t believe him for one minute, but the idea of being clean was too tempting. Even if the water was salty and there was no soap.
But when he reached for the tie on her shirt, her hand covered his. “I think I can manage from here,” she said, her smile sweet. Then she turned and walked toward the surf, leaving him holding her coat.
Wearing breeches, socks and shirt she stepped into the water.
He was right. It did feel good. Anne waded out until the gentle swells lapped about her waist, then leaned forward and splashed water onto her face.
“You’d get yourself cleaner with a few less clothes,” she heard him call out, and laughed.
“I’m saving time by doing my laundry, too.” Anne sank down until her shoulders were submerged, and reached up beneath her shirt to wipe her hand over her skin. The warm water swirling around her body felt so good. She tingled all over. Anne’s eyes closed and she sighed as her fingers skimmed down her stomach. This was wonderful.
Her head dropped back letting the water seep up through her curls and she realized the fantasy that engulfed her thoughts as her hand lifted over her taut breast.
Anne’s eyes shot open and she jerked upright. My God, she was thinking about the captain. About him touching her, running his large hands over her body.
He was standing onshore yelling something and Anne whipped her head around, wet hair slapping her face. “I am not taking my clothes off.”
“What did ye say?”
He appeared so bewildered that Anne had an uncomfortable feeling he hadn’t been saying anything to her about clothing. He was holding something in his hand, but it was too small for her to see. She turned and sloshed through the water toward him.
“Why didn’t ye tell me ye had a tinderbox,” he was saying, and Anne could only shrug. “I didn’t know.”
“Well, ye must have put it in your pocket, and I’m thankful for it.”
“I guess I must have,” Anne began, then shook her head. “No. Keena put it there.” She quickened her step. “When the pirates were pushing me toward you he bumped against me. I remember now that he slipped something into my pocket.”
“He had more faith in us reaching land, than I did.”
“I don’t know about that. You did follow the dolphin.”
The pirate’s laugh mingled with the rattle of wind through the palm fronds. “Ye finish your bath, Mistress Cornwall. Now that we have flint and steel I shall gather some wood and build a fire. Then we shall have a breakfast fit for a king.”
He wasn’t far from wrong.
The smell of roasting fish drifted over the beach, drawing Anne from the water. She’d managed to clean herself and her clothes pretty well, even without soap. Her hair hung down her back in streaming ribbons. There was no toweling, except her coat, but Anne couldn’t bring herself to dry with the dirty fabric. Besides, the warm, tropical air would accomplish the same thing in no time.
“It smells wonderful. I can barely keep from—” Anne stopped, her mouth suddenly too dry to form words. The captain was squatting, his back to her, in front of the small fire he’d made on the beach. When she spoke he shifted to look at her. His stare seared her as surely as the flames danced around the stick-skewered fish.
He couldn’t speak, and he couldn’t look away. Jamie had seen his share, hell, more than his share of naked women. He’d even seen a fair amount of Anne, though his mind was so fogged by drugs, he couldn’t remember clearly. But he’d never seen anything as erotic as the fully clothed woman before him.
If she only knew how the wet shirt molded to her breasts. How he could see the dusky circle of her firm nipples through the nearly transparent fabric. The breeches were fashioned of sturdier material, but the weight of the water pulled them low around her hips. He could see the curve of her body, the mysterious indentation of her navel.
It was all he could do not to leap toward her and strip away the barrier to her womanhood. He was hard and aching, ready to take her willing or not, on the sand.
It was only the memory of the man he’d once been, the civilized man, who would protect a lady’s honor with his life, that kept him from doing it. Instead he jerked his head around toward the fire, gritting his teeth against the pressure in his loins.
He would have her.
There was no doubt in his mind about that. They were alone on a tropical island. Chances of anyone ever finding them was as remote as this tiny cay. He wanted her. There was no way they wouldn’t become lovers. But he would not force her. He would wait. And then he wouldn’t have to.
“Sit and grab yourself a leaf.”
Anne glanced around, wondering why he suddenly seemed in such a foul mood. As far as she could tell their circumstances were definitely improving. Just the thought of eating cooked fish made her almost giddy. And being clean was wonderful.
She sat on the flattened surface of a small outcropping of rock, spreading one of the large palm fronds across her lap. He used her coat to shield his hand as he reached for the skewered fish.
They were hot, but that didn’t stop Anne. Burned fingers seemed a small price to pay for such a succulent feast. “Mmmm.” She sucked the tip of her thumb. “I never really cared for fish before. But these are delicious.”
What was delicious was the way she ate. Jamie tried to concentrate on his food, but as hungry as he was, he realized he’d rather be kissing her lips than eating. Which was absolutely ridiculous.
“What do you think we should do first?” Anne wiped her hands down her damp breeches and leaned back. For the first time in three days her stomach was full.
“Explore the island, I suppose.” Jamie took a swig of coconut milk.
“What of a signal fire?” Anne scooped out a shallow pit in the sand and slid her fish bones into the hole, glancing up when he questioned her.
“What about it?” His eyes narrowed. “What are ye doing?”
“Burying the bones.” She patted the sand down after covering her garbage. “It makes it neater,” Anne brushed her hands off. “Don’t you think we should have a signal fire? I mean if a ship should come near us, we want them to know we’re here, don’t we?”
“It depends.” Jamie tossed a fish skeleton over his shoulder.
“On what?” Her eyes followed the flying bones.
“On who’s doing the rescuing.” Jamie pushed to his feet. “Personally I’d as soon stay here as have the French Whore sail into sight.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
Jamie shrugged. “I imagine they think we’re dead, but...”
“No, you’re right, of course.” Anne took a deep breath. “Do you suppose anyone will ever find us? No.” She held up her hand. “Don’t answer that. I realize you don’t know.” Anne stood up. “We simply must make the best we can of the situation.” She straightened her spine. “Let’s see what we can find.”
“’Tis no need for you to come. I doubt this will be an easy trek.”
“I’m coming with you.” Anne slipped on her shoes.
Jamie slid the knife into his waistband, the tinderbox into his pocket and they started along the beach. When sand gave way to coral rocks, they climbed, still keeping to the shore. The west side of the cay, like what they could see of the interior was thickly vegetated with small scrub trees.
“Do you think any animals live here?” She accepted his help over a jagged rock; beneath them the ocean was much more energized than at the sheltered beach.
Jamie straightened and stared into the shadowed underbrush and trees. “I doubt it.” He glanced down at her. “Sorry, no roast pork.”
“I suppose that’s what I was thinking. Pigs run wild over Libertia.”
“Probably descendants of animals brought by some Spanish galleon.”
“But you don’t think a Spanish galleon ever found this place.”
Hands on hips, Jamie stared out over the wide expanse of deep blue water. “It doesn’t seem likely.”
She knew he didn’t say it but she felt he was answering her earlier question as well. Chances of anyone ever finding them were very remote. But Anne refused to dwell on that possibility. They were on land, with food to eat and hopefully fresh water to drink.
The captain spotted the small trickle of water seeping between the rocks. He dipped two fingers into the stream, and stuck them into his mouth, then smiled. “I think we’ve found it,” he announced as he brushed away the dense underbrush that covered the water.
“It’s cool.” Anne cupped her hands, bringing the water to her lips. She sipped, then
caught up in the feel of the clear liquid on her tongue, upended her hands splashing droplets over her face. Her laughter bubbled forth as sparkling as the small stream. It wasn’t until she settled down on her haunches that she glanced up at the captain.
He stared at her, his eyes so intense and looking dark green in the shadowed light, that Anne sucked in her breath. She couldn’t seem to break the pull of his gaze. The smile faded from her lips. Diamondlike droplets clung to her chin. In the background the ocean sang on, adding its eternal melody to the universe. And still they seemed caught in some mysterious trance.
It was Jamie who first broke away, releasing her. He let out a pent-up breath he hadn’t even realized he held and gulped in another, then scrubbed both palms down across his face. “We best be on our way.”
Scurrying to her feet, Anne rushed to catch up as he pushed forward, following the meander of the stream. He seemed impervious to the rough path, though he conquered it barefooted. Anne felt twinges of guilt wearing her shoes, when she wasn’t engrossed in the more consuming question of what had happened between them. And why he hurried so now.
It seemed completely foreign to his nature, to tramp ahead so. It was all Anne could do to reach out and grab his naked arm. She pulled back the moment he turned. “Why did you stare at me like that?” She hadn’t meant to ask that question. She simply wished to inquire why he was in such a hurry. But her mind obviously didn’t have control over her speech.
After a moment he gave her a twisted smile. “Ye surprised me ’tis all.”
“Surprised you?” He started walking again, eating up the ground with his long strides, and Anne darted after him. “You didn’t think I would be excited about finding fresh water?” He stopped and turned so suddenly Anne almost plowed into his broad chest. She barely had time to back away.
“Nay, Annie. ’Tis that I didn’t know ye could laugh.” Or that the sight of her giggling in all innocent pleasure could affect him so.
She blinked. “Of all the ridiculous things to say! Of course I can laugh. Everyone can laugh. I do it all the time.” Her eyes opened wider as he slowly shook his head.
My Seaswept Heart Page 18
