by Tina Donahue
“No, of course not. I haven’t been asleep or hurt. I’m fine.”
His nonchalance surprised Netta, turning her worry to quick irritation. “Fine? You keep Aimee and me waiting all day, you tell us nothing, you hide until dark while we worried you had hurt yourself, died, or left, and you say everything is fine?” She turned her back to him.
Aimee rushed to them. “Heath. Nothing happened to you.” She threw out her arms.
Netta stood in her way. “He has no bump on his head, no cuts either, nor is he bleeding anywhere. He says everything is fine.”
“We should praise the goddess for her kindness.”
“Or ask Heath why he kept us waiting during the midday meal and after our work for the new mamas without one word to calm our worry.”
“Sorry.” He ducked into his house.
Aimee followed. Netta preferred to nurse her anger but joined them.
Heath stared at his favorite foods they’d set out for his midday meal. The bread was hard, meat cold, pineapple dried out. “You shouldn’t have done this.”
“What?” Aimee padded to him. “Feed you?”
“Go to so much trouble.”
“You have to eat.”
“I…” He backed away from her, bumped into the bed, and twisted to keep from falling. Not once did he look at them.
Netta felt sick. “A ship is coming. You plan to sail with the islanders. You want to leave.”
“No.” He ground his hand into his forehead. “I didn’t want to have to tell you this. I tried to find a way to avoid it, but there is none. Tristan spoke to me earlier today. He said I can never leave the isle.”
Netta’s spirits couldn’t soar. Heath’s face held too much sadness. “Aimee and I can make you happy here. We can help you forget your land. This will become your home for all—”
“Tristan said I couldn’t be with any woman here. I’m not an islander like you. I came to your shore with Bishop to hurt everyone. No matter what I do or how I behave, many of your people still don’t trust me. Tristan mentioned hanging.”
Aimee gaped.
Netta shivered. “He threatened to kill you because of Aimee and me?”
“He said he doesn’t care what I do, but the islanders might turn violent if they found out about us. I don’t care for myself, but I don’t want either of you to suffer.”
“How could we?” Netta put aside the torch. “Our people have never been cruel.”
“In the past, before the pirates came here. White men like me. My kind taught your people anger, brutality, and vengeance.”
“No.” She pressed her fingers to his lips. “The boys the pirates hurt are now grown, all kind like their fathers and grandfathers. Yellow Scarf and the others nearly beat Adamo to death and disfigured him for life. He’s still the gentlest man I know save you. Even if anyone here wanted to bring you harm, Aimee and I would never allow it.”
Aimee hugged his arm. “Netta and I would protect you.”
“What if everyone treats you like outcasts because of me?” Heath lowered his face. “Could you bear to lose your friends and standing in the community?”
Netta stroked his whiskered cheek. “How could they be our friends if they refused to understand our happiness?”
“Easily, I would say. Happens all the time where I come from.”
“Not here. Gavra tried to keep Simone from Royce. She told Simone he was no good for her and he should leave the isle. I think she may have said he should drown.”
“She did.” Aimee kissed Heath’s shoulder. “Royce brought the white devil here. A terrible time.”
Netta leaned into him. “Simone and Gavra argued so much everyone tried to keep them apart. Then they stopped speaking. Simone did what she wanted and now carries Royce’s son or daughter. Gavra forgot what happened before. She and Simone love each other again.”
Heath sank to the bed, pulling them with him. “How did Royce get everyone to trust him after what he’d done, other than apologizing repeatedly as he’s said?”
“He offered his life to protect the islanders. Simone cried but he went to meet Bishop alone on the beach even though Bishop had a hundred mariners with him who carried swords, pistols, and clubs.”
Heath arched an eyebrow. “That’s not the way I recall it. I was there.”
Aimee cupped his hand. “Whatever happened, the English died that night but no islanders did. Simone said it was because of Royce’s bravery.”
He kissed her knuckles. “I have no white devils to fight to convince your people to trust me and allow us to make a home here.”
Netta fingered his breeches. “Ourson’s mother said he likes you nearly as much as his papa.”
“He’s a wonderful child.”
“So are the others, boys and girls, women and men. All you have to do is show them how kind you are, as you do with Ourson and us.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “That’s nearly two hundred people, not counting the infants. Thankfully, those sweet souls have no opinion of me. If they did, it would take months, perhaps years to gain everyone’s respect and trust.”
“A gentle word, a helping hand, and understanding how someone feels works quickly.”
“I’ve done that without end.”
“You have to do more. No one thought they could forgive Adamo but they did.”
“The man with the limp arm and crooked face?”
“Oui.” Aimee eased Heath’s hair behind his ear. “He accepted everyone’s anger and told them he was wrong in what he did for Canela. The women forgave him first and then the men. They knew in their hearts he was good.”
“The same as you.” Netta pressed her cheek to his chest. His warmth and musk thrilled. “Aimee and I can tell the women how wonderful you are as Simone did for Royce. You can speak to the men. Then we can share your bed as we should, no?”
“There are still two of you and one of me.”
“Oui. The perfect number.”
He laughed.
Netta covered his mouth and stole the sound. She kissed him deeply, for as long as she could before giving him to Aimee.
Tonight had to be the last one they kept themselves from love.
Chapter 8
Heath greeted the new day with dread. Winning over a community once abused by white men wouldn’t be easy or perhaps even possible for him. He had no political skills, wasn’t a smooth liar, and lacked effortless charm to reach his own ends. If things had been up to him, he would have gathered the group, stated his case, promised his loyalty to Netta, Aimee, and their people, and hoped for everyone’s blessing.
In England, the crowd would have laughed at or hung such a fool.
“Eat, please.” Aimee offered him the choicest bananas, grapes, and pineapple.
Netta laid out fresh bread and bacon she’d brought from her and Aimee’s house. He had no stores here, had never cooked for himself, preferring to trade his work for the islanders’ fare.
Despite the appetizing smells, he stuffed himself for Netta and Aimee’s benefit. The food went down hard and didn’t want to stay in his stomach.
They watched him carefully. He forced a smile. “I’m quite all right. No need to fret.” No one had ever worried over him. He wasn’t certain how to react.
Netta combed his hair. Aimee gathered his razor and soap.
“You plan to shave me?”
“After you eat. My hand is steadier than yours.”
He fisted his fingers. They trembled from reckless desire lashing through him. Cool morning air had tightened Netta’s and Aimee’s nipples and rosed their cheeks. They’d bathed, washed their hair, and used something to give them a sweet scent. Both must have woken well before dawn to cook and tidy themselves.
Next to them, he was an uncivilized animal. “I should wash.”
Aimee peeled another banana. “We can bathe you.”
If each morning began like this, he’d find their ardent care impossible to resist. He ate more hurriedly than he’d planned, eager to have them tend him.
Netta poured water into his basin, dampened a linen cloth, and ran it over his neck, chest, and beneath his arms.
Heat surged in places she stroked. He filled himself with her scent.
Aimee guided his head back to expose his throat, her touch lighter than an angel’s would be. She spread bubbles over his whiskers. “Take care not to move. The blade is sharp.”
Not nearly as much as his senses. Her and Netta’s hair glided over his arms and tickled him in the most provocative way. Their fresh breath sweetened the air.
His lids slipped down, weighted by too much need churning inside him. He had to brace himself to keep still.
Aimee proved more than competent with the razor, the sharp edge scarcely touching his face.
Netta tended him lovingly, her cleansing strokes particularly pleasant on his nipples and groin.
Both behaved as women born to the task. Perhaps all islanders shared the same morning ritual with their mates. If so, that strengthened Heath’s hope that desire wasn’t as forbidden here as in the civilized world. There, government and religious doctrine turned everything natural into something wicked. “Where did you two learn to care for a man this way?”
They stilled.
Not the reaction he’d expected. He forced his eyes open.
Color had drained from Netta’s beautiful face. Aimee’s cheeks burned.
He’d reminded them of the past. What the pirates had most likely taught and made them do with numerous men. “Doesn’t matter. You’ve pleased me greatly. No fellow is as lucky as I am. However, I am curious about something else.”
Aimee stared at the razor, Netta her dampened cloth, both cautious.
He wanted them to smile. “How is it that neither of you find me vile. I’m far too hairy, uncouth, and have abominable manners.”
Netta tilted her head. “What do you mean by abominable?”
“Dreadful. A child behaves more properly at the table than I do.” He showed them his fingers coated with bacon grease, and gestured to his torso and thighs. Breadcrumbs dotted them.
Aimee leaned against him, her nipple close to his mouth. “You eat as a man should, filling your belly, enjoying yourself.”
“We have ways to clean you.” Netta sucked his fingers.
Aimee sank to her knees and licked food particles from his thigh.
His toes curled, cock hardened.
They tended him with their delicate touch and heated mouths. Netta suckled his neck. Aimee licked his crown. Unbearable need jolted through him. He couldn’t bear another second, much less a lifetime, separated from them.
Restraint evaporated. He grabbed their wrists and led them to his mattress.
Their cloths drifted away.
Animal hunger radiated from Netta. “Fill me.”
“And me.” On the bed, Aimee went to her hands and knees, head lowered, arse raised, her tightest opening displayed for his use.
Netta did the same.
Moisture shimmered on their dark curls and turgid folds. He stroked their clefts. Hot. Damp. Ready for him.
Aimee moaned throatily. Netta breathed hard.
The scent of sex filled the small room.
He couldn’t focus on anything else. Not honor. Caution. Good sense. A future that might never be.
No moment was more precious than this or another woman as giving as them. They made him a man more than power or riches ever could.
He dipped his fingers in their musky dew and used it to lubricate their tight, pink rings. “I won’t hurt you.” He’d die first.
Netta wiggled her rump quite saucily. “I want you.”
“And I.” Aimee pressed into his touch.
Their softness and heat seized his breath. He didn’t know who to mount first. Wouldn’t ask. They’d bow to each other’s needs as they always did.
He stroked Aimee’s tiny nub, swollen now and hard.
She shivered.
Heath guided his crown to Netta’s opening and entered her as easily as he could, lest he do harm.
Her passage relaxed around his sex. She rocked into him with more grace than he owned and coaxed his rod inside.
He trembled at her intense heat, the tight fit. Collecting his thoughts proved impossible. He barely remembered to arouse Aimee. With all his will, he rubbed her fast and slowly. Hard. Soft.
Wanton noises poured from her.
Netta was far too quiet for his taste. He claimed her precious kernel.
She bucked.
He slid into and out of her with care, each pump meant to please and excite no matter his own need. His balls throbbed, wanting relief. His rod pained him in a bad yet good way. He gritted his teeth and endured.
Their pleasure came first.
Aimee cried out joyously and shuddered. Her newest moisture warmed his fingers.
Netta whimpered and beat his mattress with her maimed hand.
“Am I going too fast?” He slowed.
“This can never end. I have to fight against it so it goes on and on.”
He would have laughed proudly if he could have drawn enough breath. Sweat streamed down his face and chest. His shoulders burned. Chest hurt. However, his cock and sac knew real agony. He couldn’t find release within Netta then expect to take Aimee immediately. She’d have to wait while he recovered and gained strength. He’d disappoint and perhaps wound her with his selfishness.
That wouldn’t do.
He thrust faster and stroked Netta quickly.
Her loud moan tore through the room, signaling her release.
Heath could barely maintain control. He eased from Netta, mounted Aimee, and nearly died. She proved far tighter than Netta unless his delayed passion had thickened his rod even more.
Perspiration stung his eyes and clouded his vision. He clenched his jaw so hard his neck ached.
Her passage couldn’t have been warmer or smoother. Pure torture for a man as far gone as him.
Netta gulped air and touched his thigh. “Are you all right?”
Any second he’d explode or would go mad. His ears rang. Skin burned. He’d never hurt in as many places at once. “I’m fine.”
“Your face is red. Your shoulders are bulging.”
“I’m showing off. Forgive me, I must…”
He lost control and spilled his seed inside.
* * * *
Sated, shaved, and clean, Heath trudged toward the mansion already exhausted before his day began. Too easily, he’d crossed a line with Netta and Aimee that he swore he never would. No telling what tonight with them would bring. Certainly not celibacy. He wavered between delight and fear, unable to calm down.
His mood sparked Aimee’s protectiveness and Netta’s resolve. They’d insisted on accompanying him rather than arriving separately.
He questioned their wisdom. “What if the others see us together?”
“They should.” Netta stopped and plucked a wildflower.
He halted. “Why is that?”
She tucked the blossom behind Aimee’s ear. “They need to get used to us being with each other. Once we wear the marriage collar, they have no choice.”
She already had them wed.
Aimee smiled dreamily.
Their happiness wouldn’t last once the priest was here to lecture them on their sinful ways. They’d surely get an earful with none of it the vows they longed to hear.
Heath would have done anything to make their hopes, and his, a reality. First, though, he had to win over the masses, dodge death, and guard Aimee and Netta against banishment. “Who will you help today?”
Aimee
walked backward. Or rather, she skipped, her breasts and hair jouncing. “Gavra. While I make bread, I can tell her what a wonderful man you are.”
Netta turned in circles, arms flung out. “I plan to do the same with Simone.”
Aimee wagged a finger. “Not if you never listen to what her potions do.”
“I have but it’s hopeless. I told her I would gladly collect the plants and herbs she wants, but I never want to heal anyone.”
“What did she say? Will she take her anger out on Heath?”
“Please, not that.” He halted well away from the courtyard walls and kept his voice low. “I’m finishing up a crib today and starting another. Best neither of you say anything to me or do anything either.”
Netta stopped spinning and struggled to maintain her balance. “What would we do to you?”
Kiss and touch him. Tear off his clothes. Precisely what he longed to do with them. “Nothing, I’m sure. Forgive me for jumping to the wrong conclusion.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” With no one around, he swooped down and captured her mouth then enjoyed Aimee’s. His kisses were far too swift but would have to do. “I must go.”
They held on to his hands with surprising strength. Netta spoke first. “Will you return to your house for the midday meal?”
“Will you and Aimee be there?”
They nodded gravely as a man does when taking a sacred oath.
“I’ll join you then.” He broke free, raced to the wall, and slipped inside the courtyard.
With the sun scarcely above the horizon, there was less activity than usual. His tools lay where he’d left them yesterday. Nothing disturbed as Ourson had promised.
Poor child probably wondered what had happened when Heath hadn’t returned. He’d been damn thoughtless and would have to make it up to Ourson. A tasty banana or juicy grape cluster might do as a peace offering. He hurried toward the storage room where Gavra kept the foodstuff that she prepared for Tristan, Diana, and the others who lived in the house. Surely, Gavra wouldn’t mind if he took something for Ourson.
Aimee’s voice sounded in the adjoining kitchen.
