Shipwrecked

by Ashley Ladd

  After drinking of her nectar, he came up for air and leaned his forehead against hers. Her eyes looked incredibly blue, bluer than the lagoon water. “Um. You taste sweeter than pineapple.” The flower tucked behind her ear fluttered to the ground so he stooped to pick it up and put it back. Taking her hand in his, he kissed her palm. “Are you ready to say our vows?"

  She gazed up at him, joy and excitement pooling in her eyes. Anticipation trembled on her lips. “Let's do it.” She looked to the horizon. “Now's the perfect time, when the sun's sitting on the sea.” Clucking, she held out her hand to Friday who leapt onto her arm and climbed onto her shoulder, looping an arm around Katie's shoulder.

  Scott inclined his head at his furry little nemesis. “You were serious about him being your bridesmaid?"

  "He's giving me away, and he's my ring bearer, and my bridesmaid, all rolled into one. You two will just have to make nice and learn to be friends."

  She squeezed Scott's hand, and led him to the cove where they stepped into the water. She led him until they were waist deep and waves lapped against them gently.

  Looking mildly confused and embarrassed, the apple of her cheeks blushed, and she looked up at him. “I need to know your middle name so I can recite my vows."

  "Scott is my middle name.” He smiled down into her confused expression. “I'm really William Scott Vanderhorne IV. Scott is the lesser of the evils."

  "I prefer Tarzan.” She swallowed a smile and averted her eyes. “When is your birthday? I think I should know my fiancé's birthday before I marry him, don't you?"

  "I'm a New Year's baby. And you?"

  "July 7th, 1975.” Muscles strained in her delicate throat as she looked undecided. Finally, she asked, “What year were you born?” She didn't exhale, as if his answer mattered very much.

  "Would it make any difference if I were younger than you? Would you love me less?"

  Her eyes wide, she shook her head. Air whooshed out as she let out a pent up breath. “I suppose not. Year please?"

  His perverse side seemed to want to tease her a little. He crossed his arms across his chest. “I don't think I'll tell you till after we're married—to make sure you love me.” Bending down so that he was eye level with her, he asked, “Will you still marry me, taking the chance I'm younger than you?"

  "Of course I will.” She chewed her lower lip. “You're not ten years or more younger, are you?"

  "I promise you I'm not that.” A wicked smile curved his lips. He enjoyed teasing her. Crossing his heart with his finger, he said, “Hope to die."

  "Don't you dare, mister! What's Jane without her Tarzan?” Her lush lips pouted. “I don't mind being alone here with you and Friday, but don't you dare desert me!"

  He laughed, pulling her to him and hugging her, crushing her breasts to his bare chest. “Never, sweetheart. We're going to have too much fun to stop for a long time. But could you do me a favour?"

  She looked at him suspiciously. “What?"

  "Call me by my real name in the vows—and not Tarzan?"

  "So long as you don't call me Katydids. Deal?” She stuck out her hand to shake.

  Instead, he bent her over backwards, almost to the water's edge so that her flower leis shifted sideway. Friday climbed onto Scott's back.

  She swatted at his shoulder playfully, her feminine core catching fire from the fire in his eyes. She parted her lips to him as he plundered them, delving his tongue deep. After several mind drugging minutes, she tore her lips away from his. “You're not supposed to kiss me like that till after we say ‘I do'."

  "Who says? Besides, we already did—more than once.” Mischief danced in his gaze. Slackening his grip on her, he let her sink a notch closer to the water. “For someone in such a vulnerable position, you're mighty brave."

  "You wouldn't dare dunk me on our wedding day!” Alarm shot through her and she clutched his arms lest he fully release his grip on her.

  He let silence reign, just smiling at her. “Wouldn't I?” he finally asked, a chuckle in his voice. “Pay the ransom or you're getting wet."

  "No more kissing till after we say our vows.” Or else she feared they'd skip the vows and head straight into the honeymoon. His erection already teased her belly unmercifully where it bulged against her.

  "And then I'll ravage you all over."

  "You'd better.” She wrapped his glorious long hair around them, sighing contentedly. Then, quirking her brows at him, she struggled to stand tall and put their hair back into some semblance of order. She could wrap his long flowing hair around them soon as their vows were said and they were man and wife.

  "If you didn't want me to ravage you, you should've worn more than a bikini and flower leis. You drive me wild, woman!"

  She slid him a sly glance and laughed a deep, throaty laugh. She planned to keep him off-balance as long as they both should live.

  Her kissed her chastely on her lips and then parted slightly from her and nodded her to start. “You first, baby."

  "I, Kathryn Michelle McLaughlin take thee William Scott Vanderhorne, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to love, honour, and cherish for the rest of my days. Together we will conquer this jungle, laugh, and rejoice in our love. We will protect each other and our children.” Taking his hand, she poised the breathtaking shell ring over his wedding ring finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.” It was a perfect fit and glee danced through her.

  Sliding the wooden ring onto her finger, Scott looked so deeply into her eyes that he touched her soul. “With this ring, I thee wed.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers. “With these lips,” he teased her lips, her cheeks and her eye lids with feathery soft kisses. “I will adore thee all my life."

  Splaying his hand over his heart, his voice reverberating with tenderness and love. “With this heart, I will cherish you all my days."

  She sighed dreamily and leaned against him, moulding against him perfectly, her hips fitting against his groin, her hands resting lightly and easily on his shoulders. A devilish grin played about his lips, curving his cheeks. “Under God, I now pronounce us man and wife.” He spanned her tiny waist with his hands and dipped his head. Against her lips, he murmured huskily, “I may now kiss the bride."

  When he claimed her lips, she tasted the tropical mixture of pineapple, coconut, and mango, she'd concocted to tantalize him. He incensed her with his scent, his flavour, and his exquisite masculine beauty.

  Friday screeched in Scott's ear, hopping onto his head, burrowing his furry hands into her fiancé's hair as he jumped up and down.

  "My head's not your trampoline, monkey!” With a wholly masculine, guttural growl, Scott reached up to fling the creature away. “Three's a crowd. Find your own girl and give us some privacy."

  But Friday shrieked louder, piercing her eardrums, jerking his furry finger frantically out to sea.

  Katie turned to follow Friday's gaze, all blood draining from her face. Her eyes dilated with fear when they settled on three men, one burly, his bulging muscles swathed in tattoos, one small and bald but scrappy, and one so loaded down in gold, she had to look away before she was blinded. Then a fourth swaggered around the bow, toting a shot gun. “Omigod, Scott! Pirates. Here!” She swallowed and tried to speak but her lips moved without making a sound. Her gaze stay glued to the monstrous weapon.

  * * * *

  By the time Scott spun around, it was too late. They were surrounded by four frightening men, emerging from the sea, brandishing knives and guns. A primitive need to protect his woman made him thrust Katie behind him to protect her and he was scared to death for her.

  Hell, he was just plain scared to death.

  The closest pirate pushed him aside roughly and grabbed Katie. The swinging leis parted to reveal her bared breasts.

  Scott burst forward, ready to kill the tattooed bastard for putting his grimy hands all over his wife.

  The pirate put a knife to her throat, pressing against a pulsing artery. “No fight or your
woman dies.” The man dragged her to shore and Scott felt castrated, thwarted from fighting by fear the man would carry through his threat. Not one shred of humanity sparkled in his obsidian eyes.

  One slice, one slip of the hand, and she'd be dead.

  Two of the pirates grabbed Scott under his armpits and wrenched his arms. When he flailed his legs, they dunked him underwater and held his head down until he thought his lungs would burst.

  Just as he began losing consciousness, they jerked him up and air spilled into his lungs. Gasping for air, his knees gave out and only the enemy hands held him up.

  A growl emanating from his chest, the man dripping with gold bent down to Scott, baring teeth that were more gold than enamel. “Try that again and we'll drown you and feed you to the sharks. Your bitch, too.” The man looked him up and down disdainfully. “Who you think you are? Fabio?"

  A gun clicked by Scott's ear, sounding like an explosion. Then a lyrical voice in total contrast to the violent sound, asked, “Where's your boat? Your money and valuables?"

  Still struggling to breathe, Scott glared up at the gunman. “Shipwrecked. Boat—went—down. No money."

  The man flung back his head and roared with rage. Fury smouldered in his eyes. Putting the gun square in Scott's face, he cocked the trigger slowly. “No boat. No money. No jewels ... You mad stupid if you think we're gonna keep you around. Your woman, now, might provide a little...” he looked at Katie and licked his lips, “...entertainment."

  "Wait!” Disgust flooded him. He couldn't lie down and die and he especially couldn't let them touch his wife. “My family's very wealthy. They'll pay a very large ransom for our safe return."

  Both men squinted at him, peering into his face. “What's your name, fool? Spill. Don't make me shank you."

  Gold brilliance nearly blinded him as the man spoke. “William Scott Vanderhorne IV of Boston."

  "That dude's dead. He's been missing for almost three months. He was shark bait long ago.” Tobacco drooled out the side of the man's mouth, leaving a brown trail down his chin.

  "Because we've been marooned here. My family will pay big money for our safe return.” Scott watched the other two pirates shove his wife around by the cooking fire on shore. They groped at her, and he vowed revenge. His hands itched to get around the sadistic beasts’ throats.

  "You don't look so fly now, rich boy."

  The gun barrel lowered to his chest, poking and prodding him ashore. “My finger's itching to pull this trigger. One false move and we blow your guts clear to the other side of this island. Your old man had better hand over a big bankroll if he wants to see you this side of heaven again."

  The leader glared at them as they approached, dripping water everywhere. He thrust his chin forward. “I ain't asking you no more. Where's the money? The boat? You rich?"

  One man hawked a wad of phlegm at Scott's feet. “Their ride went down to Davey Jones locker."

  The man stomped and pointed a shaky finger at Scott. “I'm going to drop you, motha fucker."

  "No!” Katie yelled, breaking away from the fourth pirate. Fire flashed in her eyes and fine perspiration formed a sheen on her forehead. “Kill us, and you don't get a dime."

  The man turned the gun on Katie. “Yo sister, go disrespecting me again, I'm liable to split some wigs."

  Scott's heart stopped and he couldn't breathe. His gaze was glued to the unreal scene.

  "Cool it, Boss.” Greed gleaming in his eyes, the scrappy man licked his lips. “We struck diamonds. We found that missing millionaire, Vanderhorne.” The man grabbed his chin and jerked his face around. “He's a lot hairier, but it's him all right. His old man'll front us a million Benjamins easy."

  "Twenty million dollars if we're both delivered safely.” Sickened by the way they ogled his wife, bile rose in Scott's throat. How he wanted to fight, and if it was only his own hide at stake, he'd be punching the closest man in the face already.

  Another of the bandits stroked his stubbled chin, looking thoughtful. Sun reflected off the dagger he whipped around to point at Scott's heart. “Tie him up."

  Pivoting on the worn down heel of his boot, he grunted at Katie. “Feed us.” To one of the heretofore silent pirates, he said, “Guard her. Tie her up if she tries anything."

  * * * *

  Katie gulped, long and hard, the acid in her oesophagus gurgling. It killed her to watch Scott being roped up like a rodeo calf, his hands behind his back, his legs stretched in front of him.

  The only thing she knew to do was to watch and wait for one of the vile pirates to slip up. Her karate skills were no match for four animals with firepower and tied up like an animal, Scott was in no position to help her.

  "What's that?” Her guard asked sniffing the air.

  "Our wedding feast.” Any dryer and her tongue would turn to dust. She hoped they'd choke on it. “Swordfish stuffed with crab and tropical fruits, poi, and your choice of coconut milk or pineapple juice."

  The man rubbed his stomach as he licked his lips. Leaning over, he snatched a piece and popped it into his mouth. “I ain't getting any younger. Give me more food.” It was little more than a grunt.

  She bit back a stinging retort having to do with manners, realising they wouldn't be pirates if they had manners. “Okay.” She drew out the second syllable. So be it if it wasn't fully cooked. Let bacteria kill them. She dished up four separate helpings and handed one to each man silently.

  "Fresh fruit,” he commanded, practically growling the words as he stuffed his mouth full of food, disgusting her.

  She reached for the platter of partially cut up fruit when she spied the succulent looking fruit tree next to it. Praying they weren't familiar with the fruit that Friday refused to eat, and praying it was poisonous to humans, she picked six unopened globes and arranged them prettily on the dish.

  When she held out the tray, she schooled her features to be expressionless, lest they be suspicious. If God had any mercy, these men wouldn't know she served hopefully deadly delights.

  Chapter Four

  The pirate shoved a huge hunk of fish into his mouth, flakes dropping to the ground around him in a slovenly mess, juice dripping down his chin. He grunted appreciatively. “At last, edible eats,” he said around a mouthful of food. The man pinched Katie's bottom, bruising her skin. “You taste as good as you cook, honey?"

  A few feet away Scott squirmed uneasily, chafing. His eyes narrowed on the man's hands on her. She could imagine what he was thinking and his excruciating agony that he couldn't rescue her from the pirates.

  "Give me some fruit."

  She jerked away, itching to slap his filthy hand away. The pirate's voice rasped against her nerves. She willed him to take it and held out the platter, letting him choose his own selection so as not to raise any suspicions. So far, none of them had called her on her scheme.

  He took a piece of the fruit and bit into it, taking off a big chunk, exposing the three black seeds.

  She held her breath, waiting, watching. As none of his companions commented, she presumed none recognised the poisonous fruit even though it looked very distinctive.

  Nodding, he grunted to his friend, “Good. Try it."

  If only they'd all eat it, their problems would be solved. Could they be so lucky? She wondered how long it would take for the poison to act and how severe it would be. Would they keel over dead or merely be nauseous?

  She kept them in her peripheral sites as she broiled more fish over the coals. Her muscles tensed, waiting for a reaction to the poison.

  The leader moaned loudly and clutched his stomach. He fell to his side writhing, his legs kicking in the air. Within seconds, the second man who had partaken of the suspect fruit did likewise.

  The third pirate spit out a mouthful of the poison, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. “Bitch! You're trying to poison us. You're going down."

  When he lunged at her, she kicked hot coals at his face then whirled into a flying karate kick. Now that the odds
were only two to one, she could overpower them.

  Clawing at his eyes, sparks catching fire in his long, matted hair, the pirate screamed. “You're shark bait.” Stumbling, he lunged at her with his knife.

  Her foot caught him in his soft underbelly and he doubled over and fell to his side, writhing.

  The last pirate grabbed her from behind, his bulk easily double hers. “Gotcha. The sharks will get a feast tonight."

  Friday leapt onto the pirate's back, screeching and covering the man's eyes with his hands.

  "Thanks.” She winked at her little friend. “I'll take over now.” Clutching the attacker's wrist, she flipped him over her head and into the midst of the others. His bones crunched loudly as he moaned in agony.

  Gasping, Katie knelt by Scott, untied him, and ungagged him. She pulled him to his feet, whispering loudly, “Get their guns. We're getting out of here."

  She looked around, her brow furrowing when Friday was nowhere in sight. Whistling loudly, she called him as she tied up the pirates. When that didn't work, she yelled, “Friday!” She didn't want to leave her friend behind.

  "Come on, Mrs. Rambo.” Scott grasped her hand, tugging her to her feet. “This is Friday's home. He wouldn't be happy where we're going."

  Walking sideways, she kept whistling, hoping Friday would come anyway. In her heart, she knew her husband was right. The animal needed wide open spaces and others like him. A free spirit would be caged in so many ways back in civilization. But she would miss him fiercely.

  Would she be any happier in a cage? Gilded to be sure, but a cage, nonetheless.

  Her step faltered for a second, then she pulled her thoughts up short. She couldn't afford self-indulgence. Maybe later.

  Lifting the rifle he held, Scott murmured, “There's the pirate's boat. We need to be careful in case there's more of them."

  "More?” She practically choked on the word as she trudged through the sand and waves by Scott's side.