by Tina Donahue
Bananas, pineapples, and grapes overflowed large bowls. Next to them were trays heaped with dark bread, bacon, and cooked fish. Her mouth watered at the bounty and splendid aromas.
Tristan ushered her to a seat across from the others. “Glad to see you two left us some food.”
James glanced up from the banana he peeled and took in Tristan’s shirt on Diana. The garment was so large the hem hung below her knees, covering a good deal of her canvas trousers. James’s reddish eyebrows lifted but he didn’t comment.
Peter snickered. “Ain’t you never going to dress like a girl anymore?”
“Tonight.” Tristan smiled.
She elbowed him.
James lowered his face to hide his grin and blush.
Peter took in everyone. “What?”
“Never mind.” Tristan pointed at the boy. “And the word you should have used would be aren’t, not ain’t.”
He slumped in his seat.
Tristan helped Diana into a mahogany chair boasting cushions in dark blue silk, then took his spot at the head of the table. A casual observer might have believed he wanted to prove he was lord and master. She knew better. Seated where he was, she couldn’t get a good look at his scarred back. Sorrow for his brutal past and tenderness for their future overwhelmed her.
He took a slice of bread. “So, Peter, have you done your lessons?”
“Already? I just got up. I haven’t even had nothing to eat.”
“You haven’t had anything. We’ve had this discussion before. In fact, just a few seconds ago. From here on out, it’s proper English, as you were taught as a young boy, do you hear me?”
“Aye, Captain, but I don’t rightly understand why. This ain’t—isn’t England.”
Diana gave him a stiff smile. “We’ll pretend it is.”
Outside the windows, several native girls passed, speaking French, their youthful voices sweet and animated, their naked breasts bouncing with each step.
Peter craned his neck to follow them once they stepped away. “I never saw anything like that in England.”
Diana turned to Tristan for help. He ran his fingers over his mouth, trying not to laugh. James did the same.
A young woman carried a silver tea service into the room. She seemed familiar. Of course. James had kissed her upon arriving.
“Bonjour.” She smiled sweetly at Peter, Tristan, and Diana, then winked at James.
His face flushed pink.
She poured his tea last. Her naked breast brushed his arm. His face colored so badly his freckles were lost in the deepening red.
Grinning like a fool, Peter faced the window. Framed within the space were the young women who’d called him Pierre, both winking and smiling.
This was too much. Even though Diana had engaged in wanton pleasures with Tristan, for Peter to entertain the same with those young women wasn’t something she could abide. Of course he was heading for manhood, but there wasn’t any reason to hurry him along.
She leaned toward Tristan. “Why not mention the gowns now?”
He stopped cutting his fish. “To whom?”
She inclined her head to the young woman who exchanged soulful gazes with James.
“That’s Gavra, James’s woman.” Tristan shook his head. “Not my place to mention her clothing. James likes her as she is.”
The man practically frothed at the mouth every time she was near. “You could ask her to mention the frocks to the others. Perhaps they’d like to try something new.”
Tristan finished his tea and stared at his cup.
“Please?”
On a sigh, he spoke to Gavra in French. She listened without comment, glanced at James, then nodded to Tristan and left the room.
James shook his head. “Canela’s surely going to love this.”
Diana’s belly cramped. She didn’t understand why he’d specifically mentioned Canela. She was hardly the sole woman here, simply the only one actively and deliberately pursuing Tristan despite his marriage. Though that was horrid enough, she wasn’t ever going to leave. She belonged on the isle, always would. Diana was merely an interloper brought here by Tristan, who was trapped here for life. Given his piracy, if he dared sail from this place, he risked capture and hanging. What she’d prayed for a short while ago.
So much had changed these last days, including her feelings. Her heart already belonged to him. For her to come into his home and demand anything was unconscionable. He knew the islanders far better than she did. Her designs for the clothing might upset the men, especially if the women displayed themselves to honor a native tradition. They might revolt against Tristan because of her.
What an idiot she’d been. She was supposed to support her husband in his decisions, not cause him grief.
She rested her hand on his. “Perhaps I spoke too rashly before. If these women are comfortable dressed, or rather undressed as they are, I have no right to suggest any new designs for their clothing.” She spoke to James. “Please tell Gavra she’s not required to wear anything over her… What I mean is she doesn’t have to cover herself any more than she already does.”
Confusion swept over his face.
Peter snickered.
She frowned at him. “Stop behaving so abominably. Pay attention to your food, not adult conversation.”
“I’m not laughing about her breasts, Diana.”
Good Lord. She gripped her cup, her face and chest burning. “You will not speak about such matters in polite company.”
“What are you going on about? It’s just Tristan and James here. Nothing polite about them. We discuss these matters all the time.”
Tristan cleared his throat.
Diana looked from him to her brother. “Not any longer. Confine your interest to your lessons.”
Peter crossed his arms over his skinny chest. “You might learn some French yourself.”
James chuckled.
She threw up her hands. “Will someone please tell me what is going on?”
James didn’t say a word.
Peter smiled smugly. “As I said, you should learn some French yourself. Then you’d know what Tristan said to Gavra.”
“Peter.” Tristan gave him a hard stare.
The boy lifted his shoulders. “What? Diana won’t quit until she gets the truth out of you.”
Tristan shot him a harsher frown, then spoke to her. “I merely asked Gavra to tell Canela she has to change her manner of dress.”
Heat prickled Diana’s cheeks and throat. “Just Canela, not the others?”
He leaned in, his mouth on her ear. “I knew she was the one making you uncomfortable, so I thought if she covered up, everything would be all right.”
Canela ran into the room, her tinkling laughter filling the air. “Oh, Tristan, how generous of you.”
The gowns hung over her arm, the deep rose one on top. His favorite.
Diana couldn’t believe it. The only way Canela could have known Tristan’s preference was if she’d resumed eavesdropping or had looked into their windows.
Canela threw her arms around his neck and showered him with kisses. He jerked his face before she could capture his mouth. Undaunted, she kissed his cheek and ear. Her fragrance surrounded them, a combination of the wind’s fresh scent and the musky odor of sex.
Of all the things Diana had feared when Tristan had broken free on the ship, she hadn’t considered this. Unable to stomach the scene any longer, she pushed to her feet.
He pried Canela from him. “Leave. Now.” He grabbed Diana’s wrist. “Sit down.”
She didn’t want to but wasn’t about to make a spectacle, and sat.
He spoke to Canela. “I told you to leave.”
Hurt welled in her eyes. “Before I eat? I can no longer take my meals in this room? Do you want me to sleep in the courtyard now, too, on the dirt rather than my mattress? Have you ordered me to wear these gowns so they might protect me from the night when
I sleep outside?”
Tristan slouched. “You can keep your bedchamber but take your meals with the other women, not here.”
“Today?”
“Ever.”
She ran from the room.
James lifted his eyebrows. “That went well.”
Peter looked bewildered. “Are you serious? I thought it went quite badly.”
A loud crash sounded down the hall.
“Bloody hell.” Tristan left the room.
“Diana.” James gestured her back into her chair. “It’d be best if you stayed here.”
She flushed at his interference, her embarrassment complete. “Why? I’m already aware he’s going to Canela.”
James elbowed Peter. He shoved his bacon into his mouth, then fled the room and coming trouble.
James smiled sweetly at her. “Tristan wed you.”
Indeed, he had and had promised his fidelity, proving he was a good man. However, even a saint couldn’t avoid temptation forever, especially with someone as persistent and cunning as Canela. She’d lure and bewitch, playing to Tristan’s honor, his need to be fair. She’d pretend hurt, encourage his pity, and would seek comfort.
Diana didn’t want to consider what would happen then. She’d never been more disheartened or afraid and had no idea how to fight the woman. “Yes, I know he wed me. I wear his marriage collar so I can hardly forget my place. If you’ll excuse me.”
She left the room in the opposite direction Tristan had gone.
* * * *
By the time Tristan reached Canela’s bedchamber, she’d already broken a large vase and had taken her dagger to the gold-colored gown.
Breathing hard, she stopped slashing the fabric and glanced over.
He focused on her blade. “Lower your weapon.”
“As you wish.” She lifted the dagger above her chest, the point directly over her heart. “Should I bring it down now?”
He strode into the room and caught her wrist. “Stop it.”
“No. I want to die.”
He was tempted to challenge her lie but took the weapon and threw it into the hall. The thing clattered across the floor. “Quit behaving so foolishly, understand?”
She yanked her wrist from him. “I understand nothing. I am no more than a servant now. I must dress in these gowns. Very well, I shall.” She untied her bright red cloth and tossed it aside.
He backed into the hall.
Diana hadn’t followed him. Yet.
He had to end this before she did show up. “Put the cloth back on.”
Canela held her hands behind herself, flaunting her nudity. Youth made her skin smooth and plump, its color flawless. The delicate curls between her legs were as dark as her hair. Although breathtaking, she wasn’t Diana.
He fought his rising temper. “Cover yourself.”
“Why?” Her eyes widened. “Will the gowns protect me from the night’s cold wind when you make me sleep on the dirt outside?”
“I’ve already said you can remain here. That hasn’t changed, nor will it as long as you behave yourself.”
“How?”
She wanted to play. He wouldn’t with her. Ever. “By keeping your hands off me. I’m wed now and it’s time you thought of doing so yourself. Adamo adores you. He’ll be a good husband.”
She curled her upper lip. “He is a fool who does not live in this house. He is nothing. He has nothing. Not the diamond marriage collar, nor silks and jewels.”
Tristan couldn’t hide his surprise. It wasn’t like Canela to speak the truth or lose control.
Her color drained. “I did not mean what I said. I was hurt. You hurt me.”
“I’ll give you silks and jewels as a dowry when you wed Adamo. You can also have one of the larger rooms in the other wing as a wedding gift. There’s no reason for you and Adamo to live elsewhere on the island.”
Canela stepped back. “He would never agree to live here.”
“Then we’ll build a house for you and him when you’re wed.”
“A house of mud, not stone.”
“Damnation, be grateful for what’s being offered to you.”
Contempt turned her beautiful features ugly. “I am most grateful you offer me what the Englishwoman does not want.”
“There’s enough for all. None of this luxury matters to Diana, only to you. Now, get dressed and don’t force my hand. If you do, I’ll put you out of this house.” He left.
“You will regret choosing her.”
He looked over. “Are you threatening me?”
“I speak only the truth. You have chosen the wrong woman to rule beside you.”
“No one rules here.”
“Then why did you order me to wear the gowns? Why do you keep threatening to turn me away from this house?”
He had no ready answer.
Canela smiled, her manner seductive and assured. “Do not worry. I know the Englishwoman is jealous of my beauty, so I will wear the gowns, but I will not wed Adamo. I will save myself for you. Only you. I will wait until my time comes to be at your side where I belong.”
“In that case, you’ll have to wait an eternity.”
Her smile faded and her eyes grew cold. “My people wanted me, one of their own, to rule beside you. For the moment, you have denied them.” She advanced a step. “Think of what they will say if you do turn me away from this house. Do you want them to know how you treat me? How you wound me?”
He strode away.
She shouted, “Do you?”
He stopped. For the first time he considered what the other islanders would think if he denied her this luxury. Would they accuse him of merely using her until an Englishwoman arrived, then hate Diana for his sins, and demand he choose Canela instead?
A chill raced through him.
He’d never discard Diana for Canela, and worried what the islanders would do at that point. This was their land by birth, not his. There were nearly two hundred adults. They could easily force him, Diana, Peter, and James to leave with nowhere on God’s earth for them to go. England was completely out of the question. Islands reachable by the skiff might not have enough fresh water, game, or arable soil.
Days ago, bringing Diana here had seemed perfect. Not once had he considered these complications.
At last, he looked over.
Canela’s smile was icier than her eyes.
If she did anything to harm Diana, he’d kill her no matter the consequences to him. For the moment, though, he had no choice except to allow her in the house. At least while she was here, he could keep an eye on her. “I’m warning you, stay away from my wife.”
He left the hall before she could respond.
Chapter 7
As the new quartermaster, Vincent stood next to Captain Montgomery on the main deck. They and the crew waited for Roger Beemer to speak.
Like the other pirates, Beemer was a young man who looked older than his years. “We’ve been at this fool task for days. We ain’t getting nowhere. I say we forget Miss Fletcher and Tristan. Surely, they’re at the bottom of the sea by now or in the belly of a fish. We need to set sail and take another prize.”
The crew exchanged glances.
The men had now checked two uninhabited islands and had grown reluctant to waste their efforts on a third, increasingly convinced it was a lost cause.
Vincent knew better. Although he hated Tristan for escaping with Diana, he also respected the man’s determination and intelligence. Tristan understood the sea as no other mariner did. He wasn’t likely to have taken a route where he might have starved or drowned.
No, he was still out there, and they had to find him. A moment Vincent coveted. Last night, he and Montgomery had made a pact to split the ransom between them and to take Diana in the same manner. To hell with the other men. Vincent needed them to run the ship and to fight Tristan wherever he may be. Afterward, they wouldn’t share in any prize.
The
other pirates grew increasingly animated and shouted “Aye!” to Beemer’s newest complaints about how they’d worked for nothing.
Beemer put up his hands for silence. “I say we now take a vote on where we should—”
Vincent’s shot tore away the man’s forehead, his blood spraying the main deck, the report lingering in the muggy air. Oddly enough, Beemer remained standing, seemingly frozen in place.
The ship rose on a gentle swell.
Beemer dropped like a rock.
With his other pistol in hand, Vincent pointed its muzzle at the crew. “The next fool that suggests giving up the search receives the same.”
Although the men were armed, they were still like sheep, waiting for someone to lead them. They voiced no opposition to the original plan. If they had, Vincent would have executed them without pause until they cut him down. He had no desire to be evenhanded and fair as Tristan had always been, which only wasted precious time. Hard violence always worked faster with complete obedience the reward.
He kept his weapon trained on them. “We sail for the third island.”
* * * *
In the last moments before waking, Tristan had an overwhelming sense of Diana watching him.
Days before, he would have pulled her into his arms and kissed her savagely, enjoying her surprise and desire. Now the promise of her quiet scrutiny annoyed rather than aroused. Here of late, Diana did little except look at him, her expression neutral, thoughts unknown. During their lovemaking, she searched his face to the point where he wanted to shout, ‘What?’ but was afraid her answer would hurt. The times he’d smiled to coax out her playful side, she’d answered with the saddest looks he’d ever known.
When he spoke to her, which was necessary, as she never initiated converse, she answered politely and succinctly. No wasted words. No sweet teasing. Her behavior drove Tristan quite mad. This had to be about the incident with Canela and the gowns. How dare Diana refuse the closeness he wanted and needed when he’d tried to mend the situation. After he’d promised Diana his fidelity, she had no reason to be jealous of anyone or to wonder if he lied. She couldn’t have believed he’d ever enjoyed a woman as he had her, or had the desire, not to mention the stamina, to make love hour after hour with anyone else as they had.
