Forbidden Desire

by Tina Donahue

He kissed them a final time and bolted toward the vessel.

  * * * *

  Ismay gestured to the two fires and cooking pots. “Why is there more than one?”

  “I woke early and did this to surprise you.” Canela offered her sweetest smile. “Do you like it?”

  “Is the smaller one for the children?”

  “No, the bigger pot is for those born on this isle, young, old, male, female. The other holds the slaves’ food. Why should they share with free men and women? They never earned the right.” She lowered her face. “Nor have I. Whatever the prisoners eat, I will too.”

  “You can share mine. I want no argument. How did you think of this?”

  Vincent had insisted Canela separate the food. He didn’t trust her to keep the sleeping herbs from his bowl and promised to expose her if she didn’t follow his plan. He wasn’t as stupid as she’d hoped. Nor as pliant as Adamo had been. Destroying Vincent would be a challenge and her greatest joy, as soon as she didn’t need him any longer. “If not for your people, the slaves would starve or boars would eat them when they sought food outside the community. None deserves your kindness, especially me, a foolish, stupid girl. I keep trying to learn and promise to be better. Tell me what I did makes you happy.” She pressed Ismay’s hand to her face. “I beg you.”

  “With your help, I sleep more than I ever did and have little to do when I wake. I like everything you do.” She stroked Canela’s cheek and crouched. “I can stir the larger pot now.”

  “You should rest. I put water and a soft pillow in the stand.” Canela pointed. On such a warm day, the drink and shade would seduce the strongest man, even Tristan.

  Ismay squinted. “Where did the red sacks come from? What did you put in them?”

  “While you slept, I picked herbs and spices. You can choose the best for you and the islanders’ meals and leave what remains for the prisoners. They hardly deserve anything except water and the smallest vegetables, but if you want I can make their fare tasty.”

  “They need to eat or they may grow too weak to work.”

  “They should accept whatever you give them. When my hunger’s at its worst, I eat berries and sometimes leaves to keep my belly from hurting for more.”

  “We have enough food for the islanders and you.” She scooped the vegetable stew into a bowl and handed it to Canela.

  “No.” She poured it back into the pot and barely filled her bowl from the smaller cauldron. “What I eat must be fit for a slave.”

  “Do you truly want that?”

  Canela nodded. She had to accustom them to her not eating what they did so they wouldn’t ask questions later. If Tristan’s crew intended to reach these shores when they claimed, they’d leave his isle this morning. In days, they’d be here and she’d have to implement her plan.

  This would surely be her only chance.

  A scheme she and Vincent had decided together, though not the part she had yet to tell him.

  * * * *

  Islanders unfurled the Lady Lark sails. Wind filled them and pushed the ship toward the open sea. Its tang overwhelmed other scents Aimee preferred. Heath’s musk, heated flesh, sweet breath, the flowers, forest, and earth surrounding them that made up their home. With him gone, the isle smelled different.

  Her heart cramped. Terror pressed close. She wanted to scream that something was amiss, danger waited, and beg him to return. He wouldn’t listen. Men never did. They challenged the devil or the demons her people feared and believed they would win.

  Perhaps Englishmen could.

  Hoping for that, she lifted her hand in farewell.

  Heath smiled and mouthed, ‘Je t’adore.’

  The same as he had on the hill and in her dream last night. Once the words left his mouth then, the ship sank.

  She ran.

  Netta called, “Where are you going?”

  Aimee bolted past others who watched the men depart. She tore through forest into a glade and up the gentle slope where Heath had made love to her and Netta. Birds fought the wind and changed direction so they wouldn’t run into her. As she passed, thick insect swarms darted left and right.

  Panting, she faced the water.

  The Lady Lark leaned left. What Heath called east when he showed her and Netta his drawing by the fire.

  Aimee climbed higher and pushed to her toes. Near the shore, the ship had loomed larger than she’d expected. It towered over the men and gave her hope they could seek shelter and protection inside. They’d be safe and would return. From up here, the Lady Lark became a mere speck again, surrounded by endless sea. Tiny. Helpless. Vulnerable.

  She covered her mouth.

  Netta raced through the grass and shook Aimee. “Nothing will happen to him. You must believe that. Say it.”

  Aimee couldn’t. “Did you dream last night?” Their parents and the elders had thought Netta might have a gift for foresight. As a child, she’d predicted when a certain crop would fail or an animal would take ill. She’s wasn’t always right. She hadn’t cautioned about the pirates. But her forewarnings on other matters were frequent enough for the men to take action to stop trouble before it arrived. “Tell me.”

  “I never slept or closed my eyes. I watched over Heath.”

  “Why? What frightened you? What did you see? Will he be all right?”

  “I told you he will.”

  “I dreamed his ship sank.”

  “No.” Netta backed away. “Never say that again.”

  “We have to beg the goddess for help. Ask her to ward off any evil that follows him.” Aimee ran to bushes covered with fat, scented petals. The bracelet fell from her hand. She’d forgotten it and gestured Netta over. “We should offer the gold to the goddess, along with sweet flowers and herbs. Our gifts will please her enough to protect him.”

  “We also have our silk cloths. The goddess would like those.”

  “And our fruit, the grain, and bacon.”

  “She can have it all. The priest’s god too. We can save some for Him and light candles as the priest told us. Come.” Netta took Aimee’s hand and pulled her down the slope. “We have much to do and many prayers to say.”

  “Wait.” Aimee held back. “Did you dream last night? Tell me the truth.”

  Netta regarded the sea. The ship was on a straighter course now, what Heath called north. “No, I did not.”

  “Look at me and say that.”

  She wouldn’t.

  Chapter 14

  Fresh bread, platters with meat, and fruit in bowls overflowed Netta and Aimee’s table.

  Even though they’d always provided for themselves, ever since Heath sailed everyone wanted to feed them. First, Adamo and Zola had come to offer food. At Diana and Tristan’s request, Peter, James, and Royce brought more. Each day was the same. All smiled and asked if matters were well. If they could do anything else to make things better.

  Netta resisted screaming at them to bring Heath back. He shouldn’t have gone. Her dreams turned darker each night. She wanted him, not this feast.

  Aimee scarcely ate. She stared at something only she could see.

  This morning, Netta had reached her limit. Despite everyone’s smiles, the gifts were a bad omen. Even the goddess didn’t want them. Instead, she sent warnings during Netta’s sleep that awakened her with a gasp and left her covered in sweat. “We need to go to the stone house and speak to Tristan.”

  Aimee pushed off the mattress. The dark circles beneath her eyes were worse. “About Heath?”

  Netta gestured to the bacon, pineapples, boiled eggs, and more. “This. Why is everyone giving us so much? They tell us to eat but the amount they bring and keep offering makes no sense. The table is already full. Next, the chairs, mattress, and floor. You and I could never finish this.”

  Aimee brightened. “Perhaps Heath will return sooner than he cla
imed. This is their way to tell us.”

  “Why not speak the truth to ease our heartache?”

  “They want to surprise us when he comes home.”

  “And worry us to death before he does? None of them is that cruel, especially Adamo. Even if they were, Tristan would never allow such a thing.”

  Aimee’s mouth turned down. “Then they want us to offer these things to the goddess for Heath’s safe return. The priest’s god too. Neither has listened to us or accepted our gifts and brought him back sooner.”

  Netta tied a red cloth around her hips. “Tristan and the others are keeping something from us. The food soothes their guilt and stops us from asking too many questions.” She put out her hand. “Come. We need to go to the stone house to find out what’s going on.”

  Sun grazed the courtyard walls and streamed inside. Children played quietly, hair mussed from sleep. Mothers prepared areas where they worked. Something smacked loudly in the kitchen.

  Gavra looked up from a bacon slab, her knife in hand. “Good. I could use your help. Laure’s still asleep. Peter keeps her up too late.” She muttered a French oath. “Put on the water for tea and—”

  “Not now.” Netta pulled Aimee past the table. “We have to speak to Tristan.”

  “Before he eats? Why?”

  Netta had no patience for anyone’s questions. She had her own that demanded answers. “Tell James not to bring food to me and Aimee. We have more than we need or want. Give it to the other islanders so they can rest rather than cook.” She led Aimee into the cool, darkened hall.

  Feet slapped behind them. Gavra watching.

  Netta didn’t care. She reached Tristan’s bedchamber and knocked forcefully.

  Merry shrieked.

  Tristan hollered English words.

  Netta could shout too. “Je ne comprends pas ce que vous dites!” I do not understand what you say!

  “Netta?” He spoke French. “What do you want?”

  “Aimee and I must speak to you. Now. Not later. Now.”

  “Why?”

  She hit the door so hard her fist hurt.

  Aimee covered her face. “Anger him and he may not tell us anything.”

  “Then you and I will stay here until he—”

  Tristan yanked the door open. He wore breeches and a hard scowl, his face whiskered, hair uncombed, eyes mere slits from too little sleep. “What’s wrong?”

  Merry wailed. Diana crossed the room, her violet gown wrinkled, hair in disarray, face weary. She bounced Merry and paced. Merry wouldn’t calm.

  “Keep holding her as you are and her crying will never end.” Netta brushed past Tristan to Diana.

  She stepped back, eyes wide, but spoke French. “What are you doing?”

  “I mean no harm.” Netta calmed as much as she could and spoke slowly so Diana would understand. “I only want to show you how to quiet Merry’s cries.”

  Tristan touched Diana’s arm. “Did you understand that?”

  She nodded.

  Tristan gestured to Netta. “Allez.” Go on. “Say what you must. If Diana has trouble understanding, I’ll translate. Show her what you mean.”

  “I would, but my hand…” She held up what the pirate had left her with, no longer ashamed for anyone else to see. Heath’s love had made her strong. She wanted him back here today, now. Tears threatened. She pushed her emotions back. “Aimee can show her.” Netta gestured her inside. “No harm will come to Merry.”

  Diana smiled. “I know. I trust you. Are you certain you don’t want to do this?”

  “Aimee would be better.”

  Diana handed Merry over.

  Merry squirmed and screamed, her face darker than Netta’s cloth and Aimee’s cheeks.

  “You fold her arms in front.” Aimee showed them.

  Diana watched carefully and nodded.

  Aimee went on. “And put your hand lightly on her neck like this.” She circled Merry’s throat with her thumb and forefinger while also keeping the babe’s arms down. “Hold her here, as I do.” Her other hand cupped Merry’s bottom. “Then you bounce her, but not too much.” Gently, she moved the infant up and down.

  Merry calmed.

  Diana’s eyes widened. “What you did was a, ah…” She breathed hard then brightened. “A miracle. I must say, a much needed one.”

  Tristan leaned against the door. “Why didn’t we know about this sooner? The island women could have told us. Better still, Gavra.”

  Netta tapped her foot. “Did you ask them?”

  “No.” He scratched his neck. “My fault entirely. But it still doesn’t explain about Gavra. Willy keeps James up many nights. Why didn’t she do this too?”

  “Perhaps she did but Willy is like his papa and wants her attention constantly and cries for it.”

  Tristan roared. “That could be.”

  Diana looked at them. “Ce qui?” What?

  They’d talked too quickly.

  He told Diana what they said and spoke to Netta and Aimee. “I can’t thank you ladies enough. I must repay you both for this kindness.”

  Netta waved her hands. “We want no more of your food. Most will spoil before we can eat it. Why are you giving us so much?”

  “Heath asked us to watch over you in his absence. We said we would. We thought you’d like to take a rest from gathering food and cooking. It goes no further than that. He’s an excellent mariner. He’s fine.”

  Diana touched Tristan’s arm and spoke English. They conversed quietly.

  He nodded. “Diana wanted to tell you this herself, but she thought I could convey the thought with less trouble. She said my assurances about Heath don’t ease your concern and if I wasn’t by her side, she wouldn’t be calm either. We do understand how you feel. She suggested while Heath is gone, you both might want to stay in this house. With people around, you’ll have someone to talk to. I’ll be here. You can stop me whenever you want and ask whatever you wish. Would that ease your burden?”

  Aimee nodded.

  So did Netta. “We promise not to bother you too much and we could help Gavra in the kitchen as we do when she needs us.”

  “I have a better idea. Let me confer with Diana first.” He spoke to her in English.

  She beamed. “Oui, oui, oui.”

  He laughed. “Seems she agrees with me. But you two must do so also. If you don’t mind, you can care for Merry while Diana rests. She’s gotten little sleep these last days. We can give you the chamber next to this one. Would that be all right?”

  Netta couldn’t imagine a more perfect solution. With Tristan close by, she and Aimee could question him about Heath whenever their worries arose. “Caring for Merry would be our pleasure. With us, her crying will be at an end.”

  Tristan closed his eyes. “I won’t be able to thank you enough for that.”

  * * * *

  Heath checked the stars against the map in his mind. His course proved steady. Despite the deep water and meager wind, he ordered some sails furled to slow the ship further. No need to race headlong into trouble, even if the nightly delays annoyed him.

  At times, it seemed they crawled across the water rather than glided. He hadn’t realized how much he’d miss Aimee and Netta. Everywhere he went, whatever he did, they loomed close, yet were too far away. He fingered the medallion and wished Adamo’s carvings could bring him enough luck to reach home far sooner.

  Michel joined Heath. “Capitaine.”

  Although Heath liked the title the crew used, he wasn’t convinced he deserved it and certainly wouldn’t have demanded the address. Their willing respect touched him and provided hope they, like Adamo, would see nothing wrong with him loving two women. “Oui?”

  “The men you asked for are in the great cabin.”

  “Merci.” Heath pulled his hair off his neck. The moist wi
nd brought it back. “I’d like you to join us.” Michel would have another tale to tell Ourson.

  Before going below, Heath called to Phillipe in the crow’s nest. “Everything all right?”

  “Oui. Nothing is in our way.”

  Except too much blasted time. At the wheel, Heath spoke to Gérard. “Don’t push yourself too hard. If you need relief or sleep, ask another man to take your place. I’ll be in the great cabin.”

  Upon his arrival, Etienne, Rollan, and Julien stood. All young and strong with islander coloring and their people’s handsome features.

  Heath gestured them and Michel to their seats and took his. “I asked you here because you’ve been to Faucon before. You know their customs. We have only another full day before we reach land. What can we expect?” He should have asked before he left, but his concern over Netta and Aimee distracted him from practical matters.

  Twenty-year-old Rollan sat shoulders above the others. “The community lies close to shore, not like our people’s. They have few fine things to match what we have. Far less islanders. Half, I would say.”

  “No, even less than that.” Julien spoke to Heath. “They barely survive with their poor crops and the sickness they had in the past.”

  Heath didn’t like that. “What sickness?”

  “The fever. Their chief said the priest brought it to them because their god was greater than his, who was jealous. The islanders killed the chief for those shameful words and a new leader arose.” Julien rested his hands on his muscular stomach. “They have yet to recover from losing so many, especially the children. Without Tristan’s help with the seeds and food, they may perish.”

  “So they’re eager to see us. They’ll be friendly.”

  “Oui. They need the wonderful things Tristan always gives them.”

  “What weapons do they have?”

  Etienne spoke up. “Spears and knives. Also pistols Tristan gave them for protection from pirates should they come. They never have, but they might.”

  If they were smart, they had an armed lookout on their shores as Tristan did on his. “When we’re in the longboat and have their beach in sight, do we need to do anything special so they know who we are? Some sort of signal for the lookout to keep him from firing on us?”