Forbidden Desire

by Tina Donahue

  Ismay didn’t move from the tree-shaded ground. Her hands pillowed her head. Legs hugged her chest.

  Fanette ran to Yoland’s house, waving her arms, screeching for help.

  Canela had put too many herbs in the fish stew she’d given Ismay. A test to see how the sleeping herb worked and if Ismay would notice an unusual taste.

  She hadn’t. For the moment, she still breathed, though barely.

  Canela sickened with fear. Not for Ismay’s possible death. With her gone, control over the cooking would fall to Canela. A delightful prospect, unless Fanette accused her of poisoning the food and the others discovered the herbs she’d collected.

  She’d never leave the isle then. They might cut her heels to make her a cripple or blind her so she’d be helpless.

  Terror made her hot then cold. Shivering, she crawled to Ismay and shook her. “Wake up. Please. What is the matter with you? Are you sick? Tell me what to bring you to make you better.”

  Ismay’s lids fluttered. She stared blankly at Canela as one would a stranger.

  Canela shook harder and slapped Ismay’s cheeks. “You have to wake up and breathe.” She dumped stew from the bowl, filled it with water, and brought it to Ismay’s lips. “Drink.”

  Yoland ran up.

  Fanette followed and yanked Canela’s hair.

  She cried out.

  “What are you doing to Ismay?” Fanette tugged harder. “Are you trying to drown her?”

  “No!” Canela gripped Fanette’s wrists to keep the hag from tearing her hair out. “Ismay opened her eyes. I gave her water to help wake her.”

  Yoland crouched near them, her form skinny and skin sagged with age. “Ismay, what troubles you?”

  She swigged the water. “I fell asleep.”

  “Why?”

  Canela yanked away from Fanette. “She works too hard. Put the burden on me. I can cook so she can rest. Heed my words or next time she may not wake up.”

  “Liar.” Fanette spat. “You poisoned her.”

  “No. I love Ismay. She’s kind and gentle. If the stew poisoned her it will do the same to me.” Canela darted from Fanette, filled another bowl, and ate quickly despite the heat and foul taste. Finished, she ran her hand across her mouth. “Now all you have to do is wait for me to die or tell me I spoke the truth.”

  Yoland stroked Ismay’s hair. She slumbered again. “You proved your words are true. Go back to the cooking. Fanette will leave and see to her tasks.”

  “I will not. She’s lying. Why can no one see that?”

  “You see only darkness where there is nothing except light.” Yoland turned her back to Fanette. “Go.”

  “You will regret trusting her.”

  Canela made her face a mask and stirred the stew.

  * * * *

  Heath carried both sacks filled with rocks, many far from the description and color the book stated. He hadn’t the heart to tell Ourson the pretty ones were unusable for their purpose. Childhood wonder only lasted a few years and should be encouraged not berated.

  Ourson flapped his arms to mimic the birds flying overhead. “Are we finished?”

  “For the time being.” Heath could barely haul this load. His feet hurt from trying to keep up with Ourson and make certain he stayed far from trouble. “I promised your parents to get you back before the sun was too low.” It skimmed the shortest treetops. “There’s always tomorrow.”

  “I want more bacon and bread.”

  “Of course you do. You’re a growing boy, but you ate the last we had a while ago.”

  “We have more at my house. Come with me. You can eat with us tonight.”

  Sleep beckoned, not food or polite conversation. Heath had fought desire and dejection during every quiet moment. There weren’t a lot with a spirited child around, but enough to exhaust him. “Merci, but another time. I’m quite old, you know. I need my rest.”

  “Are you going to die?”

  He halted. An animal rushed into the bushes next to him. Butterflies scattered. “What?”

  “Kaarle said old people die when they’re unable to work any longer.”

  “Who is Kaarle?”

  “My friend. His papa told him our grandparents are gone because they were too old to work on the isle.” He held Heath’s hand. “Can you keep working? Please?”

  “Of course. Many years will pass before I die. You may be an old man then.”

  Ourson grinned. He’d lost another tooth.

  They traveled with ease. Ourson chattered endlessly, Heath nodded and made occasional noises to prove he was listening.

  He stopped at a path that veered to the left. “Here we are. Your home is just ahead. Be sure to tell your mother you behaved yourself and learned much today. Do you still have the pretty stone you chose for her?”

  Ourson opened his hand. Bacon grease and crumbs coated the speckled pebble.

  “What a fine lad you are. I’m sure she’s going to love it. Now off with you.”

  “See you tomorrow.” He ran, his feet kicking up red dust.

  Esme and Michel waved.

  Heath returned the greeting and shuffled home. An endless walk, the rocks and books a burden.

  He dropped everything on his mattress, quaffed his remaining water, and cursed at having to go out for more. If he’d had any sense, he would have dug a well rather than making daily trips to the stream like the women did for their families. Perhaps he could install wells for everyone so they’d accept him and wouldn’t mind that he wanted two women who kept their distance no matter how much that wounded.

  A bullet wouldn’t have hurt worse than Netta and Aimee turning from him. He couldn’t suffer through more.

  The urge to run hit him as it had when he’d been a child. Then, circumstances conspired to keep him in place, powerless to flee pain. As a man, he refused to accept the same restrictions.

  He slapped the cowhide away and hurtled headlong into deepening gloom. Monstrous trees kept the remaining sun from bleeding through. On the shore, brightness lingered. Here, night began its approach.

  Wind cooled, nocturnal animals stirred.

  His feet pounded reddish earth, his chest pumped, and his side ached. Panting, he trampled wildflowers, stumbled past bushes and small trees, heedless of flaying branches or thorny growths.

  Light pierced the darkness, dishes clinked, baking bread and frying bacon pleased as only civilized scents could. He didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight. Not ever.

  The fire illuminated Aimee and Netta.

  Heath rushed into the light.

  They stood.

  He clutched his side and sank to his knees. “Please understand my reasons for going and try not to be cross that I must. I adore both of you. I’ve never missed anyone so much in all my days. We must fix this. Say you’ll try.”

  Chapter 11

  Netta cradled Heath’s face. His longing and sorrow matched hers and Aimee’s. They were all one soul, the refuge she’d needed for too long. Shamed by her doubt and selfishness, she kissed his forehead, eyelids, and both cheeks.

  He drew her down to him. “Not enough. I want more.”

  Her tongue filled his mouth. Their combined heat, dampness, and taste renewed her. He smelled better than she recalled. Somehow each touch, breath, and caress seemed new tonight and miraculous.

  He suckled her tongue and held her tightly.

  Aimee joined them. Together they formed a family no country, man, or woman could deny or defeat. They’d belong together until time ended.

  Netta wanted to linger in his embrace past dawn, but couldn’t refuse Aimee the same pleasure she knew. “What are you waiting for, dear sister? Greet our man as you should.”

  Aimee smiled and settled into his arms.

  Heath kissed her soundly.

  Sounds flowed from Ai
mee that a woman in love must make. Ones expressing excitement, anticipation, yearning so deep nothing mattered except closeness and coupling.

  Heath couldn’t possibly deny them or himself any longer.

  He pulled his mouth from Aimee, gathered Netta close, and lowered them to the ground. “I must have you both tonight and every day that follows. Loving you as a man should do with a woman. Tell me you agree.”

  Netta wanted nothing else but held back. “Not yet.” She twisted from him.

  Surprise and sadness crossed his handsome face. “I thought you’d forgiven me.”

  “I have. Can you do the same?”

  “With what?”

  “Me. I was wrong and willful when we spoke, thinking only of my hurt.”

  “We both behaved horribly. It’s finished and forgotten.”

  She scooted back.

  He reached for her. “Where are you going?”

  “The fire. Our bacon and bread will burn. Once they do, the flames could destroy more than our meal.”

  “Of course. How stupid of me. Let me put it out then we can make love beneath the stars.”

  Aimee snuggled against him. “Our bed is better.”

  “Wherever you want. I shan’t leave till dawn, if that’s all right.”

  Netta laughed. “If you try to go, Aimee and I will hold on to your legs. She can be quite strong. So can I.”

  “I’ve no doubt. Here.” He took the pan from Netta, put it aside where it could do no harm, and doused the fire.

  Steam and smoke rose, mingling with the bacon aroma.

  Heath removed the bread pot from the coals. He poured dirt over the glowing embers and extinguished fire. “Everything’s done, including me interrupting your meal. I must make it up to you.”

  Netta kissed his strong fingers and weakened further. “Forget the food. I hunger for something more.”

  “I do too.” Aimee held his other hand to her breast.

  Together, they brought him into their house. An oil lamp lit the snug interior. Flowers delivered their sweet fragrances. His scent joined them to make this place his as much as theirs. Even without the priest’s sacred words, they’d become one tonight, their love lasting until their last breaths.

  Netta unbuttoned his breeches.

  He tugged at the knot on her and Aimee’s cloths.

  Everyone’s clothes fell at the same time, as they should.

  Heath cupped Netta’s buttocks and kept her close to him, away from escape.

  She had no plan to leave. His calloused palm and sheer size aroused her as much as his good heart and tenderness. He used his strength with care, mindful of a woman’s heart, her need to feel safe.

  Within his embrace, Netta found freedom to be herself and a sanctuary against any cruelty the world offered.

  She claimed his mouth with less restraint than she’d used at the fire.

  He grunted and pulled her into him, his grip unbreakable yet protective.

  His shielding her and Aimee bred loyalty more effectively than harsh words and a raised fist. Netta softened against him and cradled his thickened cock. It flexed within her touch. Her power was as great as his. She smiled.

  Heath did too, the corners of their mouths lifting as one. He made a deep, satisfied noise, eased away from her, and kissed Aimee.

  She gave her all, as she should.

  Netta stroked his smooth, hot shaft, mesmerized by its beauty. She dipped to his crown and bumped Aimee’s hand fondling his sac.

  He freed his mouth and panted. “You’re giving me too much to enjoy. I wager no man could withstand such temptation. No more delays. I must have you both now.”

  Netta pressed her furry mound against his thigh. “We have always been yours to take. Why are you still waiting?”

  “I shan’t.” With them in his arms, he fell onto the mattress.

  The wooden frame creaked loudly from their combined weight. The silk sheet fluttered. Delicate fragrances floated up and merged with their musk. The perfect place for love, the bed unusually large. Long ago, the islanders had built it for two young girls, women now. Its width and length accommodated a man’s considerable size.

  This had to be the goddess’s work. Despite what Netta had said, her prayers hadn’t gone unanswered. The goddess had brought Heath here.

  Netta suckled his throat and worked his cock. Her hand and leg kept bumping into Aimee’s who gave him her love.

  He moaned and broke free. “Do I choose who to have first or would you ladies rather decide?”

  Aimee smiled. “Love Netta.”

  She should have protested but couldn’t. “Merci.” She and Aimee shared a hug and kiss.

  Heath settled between Netta’s legs. “I’ll take care. I won’t hurt you.”

  As the pirates had. She pushed the past away and smiled gently. “I welcome your love.”

  His eyes glittered with adoration and male need, the mightiest forces on earth. “I must get closer.” He settled her legs on his shoulders to expose her opening fully to him. “Is this all right? Are you comfortable?”

  “Excited.”

  He laughed. Faint light softened his strong features. “I am too.”

  His breathing came hard, face flushed, muscles corded.

  Netta gave him her most devoted smile, an invitation to have him inside her where he belonged.

  Aimee watched with delight, no longer touching him. Instead, she squeezed Netta’s hand in encouragement.

  Tonight, she required none. Her dreams had never been as kind or wonderful as these moments. She needed to burn them into her memory, a reminder never to doubt him again. Too many days had passed. Hours lost when they could have been together.

  She wouldn’t repeat that mistake.

  With skill and care, Heath entered her. His rod sank deeply within. Their curls touched.

  His shaft stretched and filled. She could scarcely contain his full length and snatched a breath.

  “Everything all right?” He searched her face. Worry pinched his.

  His concern deepened her love. She cradled his cheek. “I never knew I could be so happy.”

  Heath’s eyes filled, the same as hers. He kissed her deeply, affection and respect in his passion.

  Their mouths enjoyed and explored. Tender delight turned to fierce lust. She craved his strength and animal need, no different from hers.

  He pumped, slowly at first.

  Testing her?

  Netta squeezed her channel around his shaft.

  Heath shuddered.

  She cupped his sac.

  He groaned, the sound muffled by her tongue in his mouth. He lifted his head and stared, eyes wild. “Continue to do that and you’ll keep me from satisfying you. I can’t last a moment more.”

  For the first time since childhood, Netta felt playful. “What am I doing? This?” She ran her nails teasingly over his lightly furred sac.

  His moan filled the room. “Very well. Do what you must, same as I.” He thumbed the hard kernel between her legs.

  Delight struck from every direction. Her skin tingled and burned, limbs grew unsteady, the world careened out of control. Not wanting the pleasure to stop, she gripped the sheet rather than his sex and gave him peace.

  A pleased sound rumbled from him. He stroked her nub quicker, pumped his sex into her faster. Their bodies met repeatedly and made faint smacking noises. His balls tapped her buttocks. The bed squeaked.

  Her sheath dampened more than it ever had and hugged his impressive length and girth. The room smelled of sex. They wore each other’s scents.

  Longing, wonder, and joy battered her, stoking her passion. A carnal storm built between her legs and reached deep inside. Netta tried to resist the exquisite delight. She wanted this to continue without end.

  Willful need defeated h
er and delivered intense release. Her channel quivered, the beats rhythmic, similar to an islander playing a drum. Though fevered, she trembled as she would when chilled. She couldn’t lift her lids or hands. Helpless, she submitted to ecstasy.

  Heath’s breath warmed her cheek. He gasped nearly as much as she did. “You all right?”

  She nodded, unable to do more.

  He eased from her and fell to the side.

  With her remaining energy, Netta touched his cock. Still hard. Ready for Aimee.

  * * * *

  The pleasant ache between Aimee’s legs intensified and insisted on satisfaction.

  Heath sprawled over the mattress, face crimson, neck and chest damp with sweat, breathing ragged.

  He needed to rest.

  She stroked his bottom lip. “Let me take care of you.” Loath to have them separated another moment, she straddled him, positioned his stiffened cock on her opening, and sank over his flesh until they touched.

  Her head fell back.

  He choked out English words she didn’t understand.

  Aimee pretended he hadn’t said anything and squeezed his shaft gently.

  Heath grabbed her hips. “Bloody hell. I don’t think I can take it.”

  “This?” She tightened her channel.

  His French came faster than his English, the words bumping into each other.

  She brushed her lips over his. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No.” The ridge in his throat bobbed with his hard swallow. “But do take things easy at first. I’m only a man, not an invincible god.”

  The greatest being couldn’t compare to him. “I promise to take care.”

  She slid up his shaft and down, an easy rhythm meant to please, not drive him past restraint.

  His breathing didn’t quiet. His complexion matched James’s when someone embarrassed him.

  That wasn’t supposed to happen. “Should I go slower?”

  Heath blinked repeatedly and shook his head. “This is lovely. Do continue.”

  Recovered from her pleasure, Netta patted Aimee’s leg in approval.

  Bursting with confidence, Aimee not only pumped, she squeezed her breasts and thumbed her nipples.

  Heath grinned. “Wicked girl. Do that again. I like it.”