Forbidden Desire

by Tina Donahue

  “What risk?” Aimee grabbed his arm.

  Netta grasped his hand. “Pirates? Men like the white devil? A storm?”

  Possibly all three. It wasn’t cyclone season but squalls did happen without warning. Anything was possible. Simply being alive exposed one to death. “I’ve no desire to die. I’ll—”

  “Die?” Netta covered her face.

  Tears brimmed in Aimee’s eyes.

  He couldn’t fathom how his promising news had turned dreadful. “The trip’s short. Waters calm. Few mariners travel this area. It’s not on the usual routes ships take for trade or piracy.”

  Netta smacked her maimed hand into her palm. “The French came here. Then the English. Both to destroy us. What if they return with you away?”

  “They won’t. They found this isle and the other by accident. It’s unlikely that will happen again. I wanted to make you and Aimee happy. Convince your people I’ll do my part to make everyone safe so they accept me being with you and we can bloody well wed.”

  Aimee backed up. “I would rather you never wed us than have you leave.”

  “I feel the same.” Netta swiped away tears. “You must stay on this isle to protect us.”

  “Tristan’s here to do that. So are James, Royce, Peter, and eighty or more armed men.”

  “Do they love us? No. Stay.”

  “Sorry. I can’t.”

  “Another lie.”

  “Very well. I won’t. You’ll have to understand.”

  Netta ran from his house.

  Aimee looked at him pleadingly.

  Heath held out his hands to her. “You do understand, don’t you?”

  She covered her mouth and bolted after Netta.

  Chapter 10

  Heath had never seen so many blasted books in his life, dozens in languages he’d didn’t know, and none in an order he could discern. Medical texts mingled with those on agriculture and furniture design. That one he could have used rather than struggling to build the cribs on his own. Hating Tristan’s library, Heath shoved another volume back into place. “Where the bloody hell are they?”

  Chair legs scraped. Peter stood. “What?”

  Royce tugged him back to his seat and tapped the papers on the table. “Do your lessons.”

  “With Heath muttering and making a racket? It’s impossible for me to think.” Peter leaned toward the bookcases. “What are you ranting about?”

  “Tristan said they’d be to the left. To the left of what?” Heath ran his finger over spines. Some had titles. Others numerals. None useful. He crouched to check the lower books. Hopeless. The gold lettering had worn off most covers. “Do either of you know where I might find information on rocks and metal?”

  Royce glanced up from his message to the other islanders. Today, he’d send the pigeon back. “You mean geology and metallurgy?”

  “How would I know? I’m a barely educated mariner. I’m sure you studied at Oxford University. The workhouse was hardly that. I fled the wretched place as quickly as I could and had to make do with what I could learn on my own.”

  “You’ve done far better than most in your situation. Be grateful for that.”

  Easy for a former noble to say. Royce had survived a few years as a lowly commoner before landing in this splendor. Heath had never had a proper meal until he’d come here. Once he’d filled his belly, everything else turned dark. No one trusting him. Happiness out of reach. Netta and Aimee treating him with little consideration and no understanding when he’d done everything he could to have them.

  He clenched his jaw to keep from shouting. If the library had been his, he would have thrown volumes everywhere. “Where are the damn books on how to extract metal from rocks?”

  Peter pushed his chair to its two back legs and balanced there. “Why?”

  “So the islanders can make tools like blades, knifes, and such.”

  “We already have enough. If we need more, we can gather a crew and sail to secure them and other things. Jewels. Silks. Whatever we come upon.”

  “You make piracy sound as easy as purchasing the items from a merchant.”

  “Absolutely not. It’s far harder.” Peter grinned. “But more fun.”

  Royce grabbed Peter’s arm and tugged him forward. Chair legs smacked the marble floor. “Keep talking like that and Diana will have your head. Once she’s done with you, Tristan would finish you off then Laure would have a go. No one on this isle will ever engage in piracy again. Particularly you. How many times must we tell you that?”

  “Things change. One day we may need to survive that way.”

  “Not if the women have anything to say about it. Trust me. They’d see us men dead first.”

  Or the women would stop speaking and make themselves so scarce they’d be more memory than reality.

  Days had passed since Netta had stormed from Heath’s house. Aimee’s initial hesitation gave him hope she’d return so he could reason with her and she’d do the same with Netta. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Wherever they kept themselves, it was well away from him.

  Another lonely night and he’d go mad.

  He pulled out a volume on the top shelf. Those on either side came with it and tumbled on him. “Damnation.”

  “I can’t think. I need a break.” Peter jumped from his chair and backed away from Royce. “I’ve been at this all day.”

  “Scarcely two hours.” He pointed his quill at a gold clock in the corner, one of Tristan’s prizes from his pirate days. “You may go but only to walk around the courtyard or down the halls to shed your pent-up energy. I expect you back here shortly. Don’t make me come looking for you or your next lesson will take four hours. Understood?”

  “All too well. One day you and everyone else here will have no choice except to treat me as the man I am.”

  “We look forward to it far more than you ever will.”

  Peter made a face and slammed the door on his way out.

  “Lucky for him I’m not one to draw my pistol hastily. That goes for you too.” Royce crossed his arms. “Getting Peter to sit much less study is a constant battle. Your interruption hasn’t made it easier.”

  “That wasn’t my intent. I thought I’d find the text by now and be gone.”

  “The section you’re in has Arabic works. I trust you can’t read that language. Try all the way to the left.”

  “I have. The only thing remaining in that direction is the wall.”

  “And volumes on the earth.” He joined Heath and pulled out a large book with a brown leather cover then a slender one in red. The geology and metallurgy texts.

  “Why didn’t you tell me where they were from the outset?”

  “I didn’t know what you were looking for and I was trying to pen my message.” He returned to the table. “If you’re having second thoughts about the journey, speak up. No need to behave like a petulant child. Or even worse, like Peter.”

  Heath’s frustration drained away. He chuckled. “The boy does try one’s sanity. I haven’t changed my mind, no matter what they think.”

  “They? Ah…” Understanding flashed across Royce’s face. “You mean Aimee and Netta.”

  “I thought this would make them happy. I’m doing it so the islanders accept me, us, our situation. How is that wrong? I barely got the words out and Netta went quite hysterical, as Diana did with Tristan and Gavra with James when neither man had even considered leaving this isle for the other. Aimee wasn’t any better. I haven’t seen them since. I have no idea how to make things better, except to forgo the journey, which I can’t. I won’t. I gave my word and I intend to keep it no matter what.”

  Royce gestured helplessly. “If I knew how to make things better for you, I’d say so, but I don’t. When women get something in their heads, there’s no changing how they think. I do wish you luck.”

&n
bsp; That meant a lot. “Think I’ll need it?”

  Royce laughed. “Oh yes.”

  * * * *

  Heath read the volumes well into the evening. The oil lamp drew colorful moths inside. He’d hope to entice Aimee and Netta. Had even pulled back the cowhide so they’d see the light if they happened to stroll past.

  A furry animal no larger than his hand scurried inside. After a tense moment for the creature, it dashed back into the darkness.

  This was pure idiocy. Within weeks, he’d leave. Netta and Aimee wasted precious time they could all spend together, living, laughing, loving. He understood how they felt, or he tried, but some things a man simply had to do. If they had full say in his actions, he’d never leave his cramped room or face anything more dangerous than breathing. It was one thing to civilize him. He surely needed that. Hobbling was quite another.

  They’d have to see things his way this time.

  After finishing the portions he needed in the geology text, he tackled the metallurgy book. Thankfully, Royce had encouraged him to take along a dictionary to understand unfamiliar words.

  The scientific terms proved elusive. As with his other endeavors, Heath pieced things together on his own.

  Peter should have this difficulty. Might make him understand how fortunate he was to have such dedicated teachers in Royce, Tristan, and Diana.

  One day, Heath had hoped to teach Aimee and Netta English, both written and spoken so they could converse or argue more easily with him.

  He left further study until morning.

  At dawn, he finished reading, packed the volumes along with his meager stores for a midday meal, and tromped to the mansion, by way of Netta and Aimee’s house. Their cowhide was down, no oil lamp or candle lit inside, no activity either.

  Uncertain what to do, he carried on to his work.

  Ourson met him at the courtyard wall and jumped with youthful enthusiasm. “The cribs are done. Are we going to look for rocks today and make things with them?”

  “We are. At least, we’ll look for the rocks we can use.” Heath ruffled his hair. “If your parents agree.”

  “They will. Even papa is here so you can talk to him. Come.” Ourson pulled him to the couple. Gentleness and acceptance radiated from them.

  In his earlier years, Heath would have been envious another child had such wonderful parents. As a man, he wouldn’t have wanted anything less for Ourson.

  “Mama, Papa, I need to help Heath find rocks. Please say I can go. Please.”

  “Bonjour.” Heath bowed slightly to mama Esme and offered his hand to papa Michel. “The rocks have metal in them the islanders can use to make knives, arrowheads, blades, and other things. I planned to collect them today. If you don’t mind, I could teach Ourson what to look for. I assure you, he’ll come to no harm.”

  “Please, please.” He tugged their hands. “I must go. Heath made me his quartermaster.”

  Michel smiled. “What is that?”

  “My helpmate.” Heath squeezed Ourson’s shoulder. “I’ve yet to find another who follows what I say so quickly and well. You have a wonderful son.”

  Esme blushed and looked at Michel. He cupped Ourson’s chin. “You may go, but you must also behave. Listen to everything Heath tells you.”

  “I will. Tell them that, Heath.”

  “He always does. I’ll have him back before the sun dips below the shortest trees.”

  “Wait.” Esme held up her finger. “Give me a moment to return.” She ran to the mansion.

  “I must tend the horses.” Michel embraced his son. “Be good.”

  “Oui, Papa.”

  Esme emerged with three sacks. Two hemp. One green silk. She gave it to Heath. “Bacon, bread, and fruit for you and Ourson’s midday meal. The sturdier sacks are for your rocks.” She kissed Ourson’s cheek and waved them on their way.

  Outside the courtyard walls, Ourson copied Heath’s stride.

  To have Netta and Aimee give him boys like this…

  His longing returned with such speed and power, he could scarcely stand much less walk.

  Ourson shielded his eyes from the rising sun. “Where are these rocks?”

  “Some are in water. Others in swamps. Some near large hills and within them like the one over there.” He pointed to a greenish peak in the distance. “That’s a volcano.”

  “No. It’s Fue de la Montagne.” Mountain Fire.

  “That’s the name you call it. Like everyone knows you as Ourson, but you’re also a boy. A volcano is a mountain that spews liquid fire, steam, and ash. It’s all in here.” He patted the geology book. “The material we’re looking for today…I forget what it’s called…is actually everywhere on this isle. It’s a deep red color. I read that in the book this morning.”

  Ourson regarded the path they took through the bushes. “The dirt is red.”

  “Quite right. However, what we need are concentrated metals in rocks we then heat. A simple fire might not work to pull out the materials. We’ll probably have to build a smelting furnace.”

  “Today?”

  Heath wrapped his arm around Ourson’s shoulders and shook him. “In the future. It will take many men to do so. Right now, you and I are gathering raw materials to begin the process. The book has drawings and descriptions on what we should look for.”

  “We already know. The rocks have to be red. Like those.” He swung his finger to the right.

  Within a clearing stood several boulders stacked next to and on top of each other. Possibly marking an ancient burial or religious site. Nature hadn’t placed them like that.

  “Those are a bit large for us to…”

  Heath forgot what he intended to say. Colors flashed within the adjoining forest. One blue. The other green.

  He stopped and wished he’d brought his spyglass.

  Ourson tugged Heath’s fingers. “What are you doing?”

  Yearning. Across the expanse, Netta and Aimee faced him. Their hair floated on the fragrant breeze, cloths billowed then smoothed. Flowers and plants peeked from their silk sacks.

  Netta turned away and disappeared into the forest. Aimee lingered.

  Heath advanced.

  She left and slipped past trees.

  * * * *

  “Wait.” Aimee grabbed Netta’s arm.

  She pulled free. “If you want to go back then go. Talk to him. Be with him.”

  “By myself when you want Heath too?”

  Netta spun around. “Has he come to us and tried to make things better? No.”

  “You want him to stay. I do too, but he’s going. Are we supposed to let him sail without showing him our love? Is that what you want?”

  She covered her eyes. “I fear for him. If he gets hurt or dies…” She shuddered.

  Aimee didn’t want to imagine sorrow. She’d had too much. “He will return.”

  “What if he likes the other isle? What if he misses his England home and wants to go there?”

  Aimee would never be the same, part of her heart and soul lost. Despite the heat, a chill ran through her. She wrapped her arms around herself. “He loves us. He said so.”

  “Now. Will it last? His people have different ways than ours. Not gentle and kind. Peter told Laure fathers scream at their children and beat them when they misbehave. Men rage against women and treat them worse than animals. White men have power and riches but they have no idea how to love.”

  “Some. Not Heath. He knows how to be different. Look how he treats Ourson. The same as the islanders with their sons.”

  “What choice does he have? If he dared hurt any child, the men and women would beg Tristan to hang him.”

  “You believe that threat alone keeps Heath from hurting anyone? He disagreed with us and now you consider him as bad as other Englishmen?”

  “No!” Nett
a sagged against a tree, her forehead to it. “I love him so much I ache. I can barely draw a breath.”

  “Then tell him. I will too. We can catch up and say what we hold in our hearts.” Aimee offered her hand.

  Netta cowered against the trunk. “I want to speak to him if he comes back from his journey.”

  “When he does.”

  “Can you promise that?” Tears hung on her lashes. “Can anyone, even him? In one morning, our parents, relatives, and friends died, leaving us to the beasts who changed our lives. We prayed to the goddess faithfully, but she never heard or saw, and offered no protection. Why should she do so now with him? I could never live through such sorrow again. I would rather be alone.” She tore through the forest toward the courtyard walls.

  * * * *

  Royce fed his pigeons and cleaned their cage. A thankless task but he dreaded going to the library to tackle another lesson with Peter.

  To Royce’s surprise, Tristan was there, checking on Peter’s schoolwork. “Well done. No errors.”

  “Can I take my ride now?”

  “Only to the pastures and back. I want to tackle geography and history next.”

  “In the same day?”

  “What say we add Greek too? And accounting. Royce may have other subjects he’d like you to undertake.”

  “I do. We can begin with mathematics, move on to literature, and end with science.”

  Peter hung his head. “I shall return shortly for history and geography.”

  Tristan closed the door and gestured to his charts on the table. “What are these doing out?”

  “When Heath returns from his rock adventure, I want to show him the quickest and safest route to the other isle. Netta and Aimee are giving him a hard time about leaving.”

  “My, you have taken a liking to him to concern yourself with his love life.”

  “I was being unreasonable before. You know, as women often are. We men have to stick together.”

  “I’m with you on that. Did you get the bird off the other day? I forgot to ask.”

  “I did. It should return from Faucon before the week ends.”

  * * * *

  “Ismay, Ismay, Ismay!” Fanette kicked Ismay’s foot.