Island Fire

by Bobbi Smith

  The sun was edging above the horizon, reaching out gold-and pink-streaked tendrils of light to erase the night's black velvet possession of the land. Songbirds, roused by the dawn, soared gracefully through the air, their warbling calls an accompaniment to the sun's long-awaited reappearance.

  In the village, Jacques awoke, his head throbbing from the aftereffects of the liquor he'd consumed the night before. Though the hut he was sleeping in did not look familiar, the bottle at his side did. He tilted it to his lips, groaning in dismay to find that he'd consumed every drop the night before. Cursing, he rose to stagger outside in the hope of discovering where he'd passed the night.

  Short in stature, her figure plumply rounded, Laiti, a widow for many years, stood in her cooking hut a short distance away. She smiled to herself as she saw Jacques emerge from her home. For a long time she had been hoping to attract his attentions, and last night had provided the perfect opportunity. Drunk as Jacques had been, she'd had no difficulty encouraging him to spend the night with her. She waved a greeting, then watched him frown in confusion as he tried to sort out what had passed between them the night before.

  Her greeting was merry as he strode toward her, her expression welcoming. "Good morning, Jacques."

  "Is it?" he asked brusquely, still trying to recall exactly how he'd ended up in Laiti's bed.

  "After a night of love, the world is always more beautiful." She smiled shyly at him. Laiti had been in love with the silver-haired Frenchman for many years, but only recently had she decided to take matters into her own hands. She knew Jacques had been devastated by Tila's death, but she felt he'd grieved enough. Though she was aware that she would have to be patient if she wanted to win his total devotion, she felt that the time had come to make him aware of her feelings.

  At her words, he looked up, shocked.

  "A night of love?" he croaked in disbelief.

  "It was a beautiful night, Jacques. Thank you." Laiti's black eyes glowed with warmth.

  Jacques shifted uncomfortably as his mind raced through the events of the previous evening. He found that he could barely remember the gathering, let alone what had occurred afterward. Had he really spent the night making love with Laiti? The prospect shook him. Since Tila's death, he'd had no interest in women, finding his relief in the bottle instead.

  "Please, don't feel uncomfortable," she continued easily, her casual manner successfully hiding her fear that he would quickly leave and never return. "I have cared for you for a long time, Jacques, and I'd always hoped that we could share a closer relationship."

  Jacques desperately needed a drink. Had he truly betrayed Tila's memory with Laiti? The thought screamed through his brain, but he fought against acknowledging it.

  "And please, don't feel as though you've done something wrong, Jacques," Laiti went on insightfully. "I invited you here. It was my idea." From beneath lowered lids, she watched him as, at her words, his expression grew less wary. Feeling more certain that he wasn't going to bolt from her presence, she gestured to the platter of hot, appetizing food she'd just prepared. "Will you join me for breakfast?"

  Bewildered by the situation he found himself in, Jacques nodded in assent. "Yes, thanks."

  Jacques's manner was reserved as he sat down beside Laiti to share the delicious meal. He felt a great need for a drink, but he also wanted to know more about the past night. Guilt lurked in the back of his mind, but Laiti's constant, interesting chatter held it at bay as they breakfasted. Soon, to his surprise, he found that the meal was over, and he admitted to himself that the time had passed pleasantly. Knowing that he had to find out exactly what had transpired between them, he was about to broach the subject when he heard someone approach and looked up to see Konga drawing near.

  "I had heard that you'd remained all night in the village, Duchant," Konga stated matter-of-factly, ignoring Jacques's sudden look of acute discomfort. "I am glad you are still here."

  "Oh?" Jacques lifted an eyebrow as he regarded the rich young islander.

  "It is time that I spoke with you. Leave us, woman," Konga ordered.

  Laiti glanced from one man to the other, wondering what business Konga had with Jacques, before she moved discreetly away.

  Getting to his feet, Jacques followed Konga to the edge of the forest, some distance away. When the younger man was certain that they were alone, he came straight to the point.

  "I am ready to marry, and I want Espri for my wife," he stated bluntly.

  Having known of the warrior's interest in Espri, Jacques was not surprised by the statement, and he nodded his understanding. "You are a fine man, Konga. Have you spoken of your desire to Espri?"

  Konga answered flatly, "I have spoken to her."

  "And?"

  "And she says that she is unwilling to marry now."

  Jacques considered the situation thoughtfully. He was well aware that Konga was rich and brave, and that many of the island maidens were in love with him. The man would make any woman a fine husband, and he would no doubt father many strong sons.

  "I have no objection to your marrying Espri."

  "That is good." Konga's expression grew smug now that he was sure Jacques would offer no resistance to his plan to claim Espri. "Your daughter is a prize beyond compare." His dark eyes gleamed in hungry anticipation.

  "Indeed, she is," Jacques agreed. "And I would see her treated as such."

  "I will cherish her as no other," the young man answered "She will be Konga's woman."

  As he watched the warrior stride away, Jacques wondered just how Konga could be so confident that he would win Espri when she had told him plainly that she had no interest in marrying. Shaking his head in confusion, he moved to rejoin Laiti.

  "You have finished your discussion with Konga?"

  "Yes. What he had to say did not take long," Jacques informed her.

  "There is trouble between you?"

  "No. He only wanted to know if I would approve of a marriage between him and Espri."

  "And what did you tell him?"

  "I told him that I had no objection. He is young and wealthy. She could do much worse." Jacques shrugged.

  "I am not so sure," Laiti remarked under her breath.

  "What do you mean?"

  "While it is true that Konga is a powerful man, I have always felt that you can judge a man's heart by the way he deals with those who serve him."

  "And?"

  "And his servants are treated cruelly. He is a hard taskmaster, Jacques, and I feel he would treat his wife with disdain."

  Not wanting to concern himself, Duchant dismissed her opinion. "It is not my concern. Whether she marries him or not is entirely up to Espri. It will be her decision. I only told Konga that I had no objection to their marriage. I did not agree to help him."

  Laiti fell silent. The pleasant interlude that they had shared during breakfast was over, and they now stood awkwardly before each other, not quite sure what to say or do.

  "I must go," Jacques finally declared, wanting to put an end to the stilted moment.

  Laiti voiced her concern. "Will you be back?"

  "I don't know," Jacques answered honestly.

  She nodded wisely, accurately reading his thoughts. "I will be here, Jacques. And know that I will always be glad to see you."

  Their eyes met for a moment, hers revealing her love for him and his reflecting his own deep uncertainty, before he hurried away.

  The cup of rum had really helped. Mitch could almost feel the sharp edge of his pain dulling beneath the liquor's soothing onslaught. A slight sigh escaped him, and for the first time in months, he knew a moment of real peace.

  Espri, ever sensitive to his well-being, heard his sigh and feared that something was wrong. "Are you all right?"

  Mitch was startled to find that he'd attracted her attention. "I'm better than I've been in a long time."

  Espri smiled at his words. "I'm glad. Last night I didn't know whether you were going to make it or not. Do you feel like eating
something? It might help you get your strength back."

  "Yes, I think so. Thank you."

  She started to go to the cooking hut to prepare some food, but it occurred to her that he might enjoy sitting in the sun for a while.

  "Would you like to sit outside? The day is still young and the heat is not yet intense."

  The long days in the damp hold had left Mitch with a distinct aversion to the dark, and he was eager to feel the warmth of the sun again. He quickly agreed to her suggestion and was starting to get up, when the sudden drop of the blanket effectively halted his actions.

  "Do you have my pants?"

  "No, I'm sorry. They were all but ripped off while you were in the sea, but I can fashion you a pareu, of sorts, if you'd be more comfortable in one."

  "Please."

  "You'll have to stand so I can secure the cloth about your hips," Espri instructed as she came to him and grasped his arm in order to help him to his feet. Though she had known Mitch was tall, his upright male presence was overpowering her. As a quiver of excitement raced through her veins, she scolded herself for her reaction to his nearness, and she attempted to keep her touch impersonal. Trying to ignore the feel of the firm muscles rippling beneath her hands, she efficiently adjusted the cloth about him and, taking great care to avoid intimate contact, knotted the material over his hip.

  In spite of Mitch's efforts to ignore her closeness, the slight press of her body to his as she fixed the material about his waist had an electrifying effect on him. He wanted to move away from her as quickly as he could before his body betrayed his desires, but a brief moment of vertigo forced him to hold onto her for support and his good intentions were undermined. He knew it was foolish to desire a woman he'd never seen, but he couldn't help himself. He bent to her, whispering her name in a hushed plea.

  "Espri . . ." His lips found hers with unerring accuracy, brushing them softly in a tentative caress which became more urgent.

  Espri was taken by surprise, but after a stunned instant of immobility, she responded fully, knowing that this was what she'd been wanting, what she'd been waiting for, ever since he'd touched her, thinking she was Fifi, the day before. Looping her arms about his neck, she strained nearer, needing to feel again the hardness of his manly form. When his mouth slanted demandingly across hers, a flush of heat flowed through her, sending her senses soaring. The burning hunger within her became uncontrollable, and she began to move restlessly against him, seeking some unknown, yet exciting, resolution to these feelings he'd aroused in her.

  The sweetness of her scent enveloped Mitch, and he was lost in the rapture of their kiss. When she started to stir in his arms, he lost all semblance of restraint. His hands, which had gripped her for support, now moved with deliberate care down over the silken expanse of her shoulders, coming to rest at her hips and pressing her more tightly to him. Then his mouth left hers to seek out the softness of her throat, to find that place where her pulse fluttered in frantic rhythm.

  The touch of his heated mouth sent shock waves of pleasure through Espri, and her breasts swelled with desire, their peaks tautening in invitation. Only vaguely did she realize that the low moan she heard was her own, and when his lips returned to hers she sighed in breathless ecstasy.

  Espri's will was dissolving in the power of Mitch's embrace, but the distant sound of her father calling out to her stopped her runaway emotions. Stiffening, she pulled back from Mitch's kiss, suddenly conscious of what she'd been about. Her color heightened by the force of her desire, Espri tried to break away from the possessive encirclement of his arms, but Mitch refused to release her.

  "Please . . . you don't understand . . . I must go." Her words came out in a rush, and she was relieved when he set her free.

  "Espri?" Mitch was puzzled by the change in her.

  "Wait here," she told him quickly as she hurried outside to greet her father.

  "Espri!" Jacques's voice was louder now.

  "Espri, what is it?" Mitch called out. He wanted to know why she was so nervous, why she responded so quickly to this man's call.

  It occurred to him that this man must be her husband, and the thought rankled. Mitch wanted to deny that possibility, but judging from Espri's fear of being found in his arms, he knew it must be true. Anger flared. Women are all alike, he said to himself. Not one is satisfied with just one man.

  Disgusted, he resented having been aroused by Espri, and he cursed the temporary sightlessness that put him at a disadvantage. He should have been more cautious. He should have realized that she was probably just as treacherous as all the other women he'd ever known.

  Espri heard Mitch call out to her, but needing time to compose herself before she faced her father, she did not respond. Taking a moment to calm down, she clasped her trembling hands together in an attempt to regain control of her runaway heart; then she hurried toward the path.

  "Espri!" Jacques emerged from the forest.

  "Good morning, Papa!" She forced a smile as he stepped into the clearing.

  "How are you this morning? Did everything go all right? How is the white man?" he asked quickly.

  "Mitch's fever is gone," she confided, relieved to find her father completely sober.

  "Mitch, is it?"

  "Yes. Mitch Williams. It was a long night, but I think he's going to be fine now. He's awake if you'd like to speak with him," Espri offered.

  "I'd like that very much. How is his head wound?"

  "The bandage is still on and he was having some pain when he first awoke, but I gave him some of your rum to ease the discomfort."

  Jacques nodded his approval. "Did it help?"

  "I think so. He's looking much better."

  "Good." Stepping into the hut ahead of her, he addressed Mitch. "Espri tells me, monsieur, that at last you have decided to rejoin the living." Jacques's deeply accented voice was tinged with seeming good humor. "My name is Jacques Duchant and yours, I understand, is Mitch Williams?"

  "Yes, sir. I'm Mitchell Williams." Mitch extended his hand in the general direction of Jacques's voice.

  Jacques shook it, and then sat down on Espri's mat while she hovered nearby. "Espri, prepare food and drinks. I'm sure Mitch could use something substantial after his long bout with the fever."

  "I was about to do that when I heard you call. I'll be right back." Espri had noticed a certain tenseness in Mitch when he'd shaken hands with her father, and she wondered about that as she left to prepare the meal.

  When Espri had gone, Jacques turned his attention back to Mitch.

  "I'm glad to find that you're recovering," he told him. His original concern about this man being around his daughter had not lessened, and he would be relieved when Mitch was gone from their lives.

  "I thank you for all your kindness. I'm sure I wouldn't have made it without your help." Mitch's words were spoken smoothly, and they revealed none of his rancor over Espri's betrayal.

  Jacques was pensive as he considered Mitch. Though Mitch seemed articulate enough, he still bore the marks of the lash, and they didn't lie.

  "How did you come to be washed ashore here?" he ventured.

  "I was aboard the Seastorm out of San Francisco. We were caught in the storm and started taking on water. The seas were rougher than any I'd ever seen, and I was washed overboard while trying to get to a longboat." He paused a moment to dwell on the memory of that fateful day. "Espri mentioned that another man was washed ashore and is being tended in the village. Do you know anything about him?"

  "I spoke with Anuitua, the woman who is caring for him, early yesterday and she said that the man is young and has blond hair."

  "My friend Tommy fits that description. He was washed overboard at the same time I was."

  "Well, you'll be glad to know that he is better too. Last night at the gathering, Kohea, Anuitua's husband, said that the man had regained consciousness and was doing well."

  "Can you take me to him?"

  "In a day or so, when you're feeling stronger. It i
s some distance to the village," Jacques explained. Then he asked, "How many men were there in your crew?"

  "There were over twenty others, but they had managed to get off the Seastorm before we did." Mitch's thoughts darkened as he remembered the fury of the ocean and the long desperate hours he'd spent clinging to the wreckage of the demolished ship.

  "I haven't heard of any other survivors. The rest of your crew was probably lost, although there is a slim chance that some of them made it to a neighboring island."

  "I'm not familiar with Malika or its location. Is it part of a chain?" Mitch was suddenly anxious to learn all he could about the island.

  "Not many people know of our existence," Jacques answered. "We're part of a small island group southwest of Tahiti."

  Mitch nodded. "I take it from your statement you don't get many trading vessels here."

  "Very few," Duchant replied. "I take it you're anxious to return home as quickly as possible?"

  "Yes," Mitch answered quickly. "I've been away too long." Thinking of San Francisco and of his home lifted his spirits considerably, and he smiled at the realization that he might soon be on his way back.

  Jacques was briefly puzzled by his answer. Surely, this man had known when he'd signed on for the voyage that he'd be at sea for an extended period of time. He was about to question his remark, when Espri returned.

  "The food is ready," she announced. "I thought Mitch might want to eat in the dining hut. It's more open there, and sunny."

  "I would, thank you," Mitch replied with cool precision.

  Hearing the difference in his tone and wondering at it, Espri started forward.

  "Let me help you," she said. She took Mitch's arm, and though it was totally innocent, the simple contact sent a thrill of excitement through her. Espri frowned. She had never felt this strong an attraction to a man before; and the force of it was disturbing. In the past, when she had heard the village women talk of their passion for the men they loved, their words had had no meaning for her. Now she realized this feeling was what they'd meant—this all-encompassing desire to touch and be touched.