by Bobbi Smith
"I would touch you," he murmured as he pressed kisses against the slim line of her throat.
Without thought, Tikiru untied the sarong and let it drop. She was accustomed to nudity and found great pleasure in rubbing her breasts against his chest, but when Tommy suddenly stopped, she looked up at him wonderingly.
Tommy was looking down at her, totally bewitched. Things were happening so fast that he wasn't sure it was real. Before him stood the woman he'd desired from the first moment he'd seen her, and she, it seemed, wanted him. The memory of her seductive dance with the snake on the altar destroyed the last of his restraint. Swinging her up into his arms, he searched out a small grassy spot and lay down with her.
Tikiru was enthralled. She had no idea what she was doing, but she knew it felt right. His lips blazed a trail of fire over her more than willing body and when he lingered over the taut peaks of her breasts, she cried out in ecstasy. Many times during her ritual dances, Tikiru had experienced these same feelings, but she had never known what they'd meant. Now, it all came together . . . the heat . . . the tingling . . . the love . . . and when Tommy moved to mount her, she was ready.
Wrapping her legs about his hips as she had seen the island girls do with their mates during the fertility rituals, she urged him closer, wanting him to take what she was so urgently offering. Gone were all thoughts of her vow of chastity, or of the high priests and the possible consequences of her actions. She knew only a burning desire and a throbbing emptiness deep within her that clamored to be fulfilled.
Lost in the rapture of her sweetness, Tommy positioned himself and plunged deep within her. He did not realize that she was untouched until he broke the barrier of her innocence. The cry of agony that erupted from her as he breached her tight sweetness was like a knife to his heart, and he froze in horror.
"God, Tikiru, I didn't know . . . I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean to hurt you."
"It is good, my love. Do not worry. Take me to your fullest passion. I would know it now." She framed his face with her hands and kissed him, but Tommy was immobilized by what had just occurred.
How could it be that she was still a virgin? Surely every man on the island wanted her. He had seen that tonight at the ceremony. How had she remained untouched all this time?
"Please, golden one." Tikiru kissed him again, this time boldly slipping her tongue between his lips and challenging him. "Love me."
Tommy shuddered as his desire stirred to life, and when her hands moved lower to caress his back and buttocks, he could no longer deny his need. His movements were swift and sure as he possessed her completely, and moments later, he achieved his peak, emptying himself deep within her.
Tikiru lay still beneath his welcome weight, wondering at what had just taken place. Though he seemed totally content, she still felt a burning passion that had not been satisfied. Her breasts were throbbing, her nipples alive with the need to be touched. Deep within the womanly core of her, a pulse was beating that had only increased in tempo since Tommy had ceased his movements.
"Tommy . . . please touch me again. I need to know more of you. My body is still on fire," she pleaded.
Though his own desire was quenched, he kissed her deeply, and feeling her need, with great tenderness he began to rouse her to completion. His mouth sought her breasts, teasing them with heated caresses, while his hands stroked her lower limbs, skimming lightly over her hips and thighs before centering on her most vulnerable place. Tikiru began to move wildly as the flame within her grew, and when her world exploded in the blinding flash of feeling that pulsed through her body, she collapsed, sobbing, against him, no longer an innocent, but a woman well loved.
Together they drifted in languid peace, each having found total fulfillment in the other.
"I love you, Tikiru. From the moment I saw you at the temple, I knew I must have you."
The mention of the temple sent a chill through her, and she shivered.
"Are you cold?" he asked, concerned.
"No. I am warmed by the strength of your love, but I must go. Will you meet me again?"
"Of course, but can't you come to me in the village?"
"No. It is not allowed."
"Then when?"
"I will send word through Nelani."
"Do not make me wait too long." He leaned over her to kiss her again. "My desire for you has only grown more intense since we have been together."
She responded willingly to his kiss and then drew away.
"It will not be long, but you must promise never to tell anyone of our meetings."
"I would do nothing to endanger what we share. If you want my silence, you have it."
Tikiru took his hand and placed it on her breast, enjoying the feel of it on her body. "Your hands do marvelous things to me. It is as if we were made to be one."
"Yes, love. It seems that way."
Their eyes met and held in the moonlit darkness. Then, as she watched, he shifted his hand to cup her breast and gently kissed the peak, running his tongue across its sensitive flesh. Throwing her head back in rapturous wonder, she arched to him and surrendered briefly to the working of his lips and tongue. What joy! Only the realization that time was slipping away kept her from giving herself to him again.
"I must go." She tore herself from him and quickly rose to her feet, lest her body completely betray her.
"I will be waiting." His voice was solemn as he looked up at her, standing so beautiful and proud before him.
She nodded, then hurriedly picked up her sarong. She did not even bother to put it on, but hastened into the protective seclusion of the forest where Nelani waited, holding her cloak. She slipped it on.
"Your sarong?" Nelani asked.
"I do not need it," Tikiru replied quietly. She wanted only to return to the safety of her home.
Nelani bundled the garment under her arm, and they started off in the direction of their hut. They arrived there without incident, and when they were safely inside Tikiru stripped off the concealing cloak. It was then that Nelani gasped, terror on her face.
"What . . .?" Tikiru looked at her quizzically.
"By the gods! You have broken your vow!" Nelani pointed at the blood smeared on her slender thighs.
"If you value your life, you will hold your tongue," Tikiru hissed.
"But why? You have everything! Why risk it all? Even your life?"
"I love him, Nelani. Now, speak no more of this. What has happened is my choice. You will say nothing," she ordered.
"Yes, Tikiru." Nelani was dazed by the realization of what had just happened. She had suspected that it might, but she had never believed the other woman would truly forsake her vow. "Shall we go to the pool? It would be best to bathe the scent of the man from your body. Then I will anoint you again."
"All right," Tikiru agreed. She was nervous now that she was away from Tommy and the protective warmth of his embrace.
Together, the two women walked through the moon-kissed darkness to the private bathing pool, and in the quiet of the predawn hours, Nelani washed all traces of the man's possession from Tikiru's body.
Much later, when Tikiru lay alone in her sleeping quarters, she had time to think of her joining with the golden one, to remember the glorious splendor of his touch. Nothing in her young life had prepared her for the joy of their union, and she meditated on it as the birds began their morning song to welcome the dawn. Perhaps, she thought as she listened to their exultant song, she would feel that way about each new day now that she had Tommy. And with a smile curving her lips, she drifted off to sleep, exhausted in mind and body.
Chapter 11
The low-lying clouds that scudded across the moon in a gauzy veil momentarily blocked the purity of its light as the two lovers walked hand in hand along the path that led from the pool. Pausing occasionally to kiss and whisper endearments, they savored the intimacy of the evening they'd just passed, alone and isolated from the revelry that was going on in the village.
Espri's hear
t sang as Mitch's lips met hers in a tender exchange. No words could describe the perfection of what they'd shared, and any doubts she'd had about loving him had been erased. She wanted him with a passion that surprised her, and she vowed to find a way to win his devotion.
It was with much regret that Mitch ended the kiss. As he smiled down at her, he saw desire flare once again in her dark eyes. How sweet she was, and so giving. Her lovemaking had been so uninhibited that the memory of intimacy with any other woman faded. Caressing her cheek with an adoring touch, he pressed soft kisses to the corners of her mouth before drawing back.
Then he studied her face intently, wondering what it was about her that fascinated him so. She was beautiful, but he'd known other beautiful women. He frowned slightly at the realization that Espri touched him deeply, made him want her beyond all reason. It was becoming difficult for him to consider leaving her when a ship came.
"Mitch, is something wrong?" Espri saw his frown and wondered about its cause.
"No, love, nothing's wrong," he murmured.
His use of the word "love" thrilled her. "You are not unhappy?"
"No." Mitch grinned boyishly. He'd never been more content in his life. "I'm not unhappy."
"Good." Espri flashed him a bright, coquettish smile, and they started off in the direction of the village.
Even though she was surrounded by happy, celebrating islanders, Laiti was unhappy. Jacques had not returned to her since she had asked him not to drink that morning, and she had come to realize as the hours passed that there was little hope he would. He had used liquor as a crutch too long to be able to give it up now. She had thought that her offer of love, of a new beginning, might lure him away from it, but she had been wrong. Sighing in disappointed acceptance, she rose and walked toward her hut. She had had enough of the revelry. It was time to be alone.
Laiti did not see the man standing in the night's deep shadows, and only as she was about to enter her home did she hear his call.
"Laiti."
"Who is it?" She squinted into the darkness, but could only make out a male form.
"Jacques." He stepped out into the flickering firelight.
"You've come?" Happiness surged through Laiti.
"I've come," he said somberly, coming to stand before her. "I've done a lot of thinking today."
"I'm sorry if I was cruel this morning."
"Everything you said . . . was true," he admitted haltingly. "You were right . . . Tila is dead."
"Oh, Jacques!" She went tearfully into his arms. "Everything will be all right now, I know it!"
He lifted her chin, and though he smiled down at her, it was a smile tinged with sad acceptance. "I think so."
Konga had been drinking steadily since he'd argued with Tana, and he was now quite drunk. Sitting alone amidst the crowd of merrymakers, he stared leeringly into the flames of the massive bonfire, fantasizing about what he was going to do to Mitch. He hated him! Never before had he felt such unbridled bloodlust, and he was determined to kill the white man the first chance he got!
His hand moved exploringly to his waist, and he smiled viciously as he touched the knife strapped there. A quick death would be too easy for that man. Perhaps he would carve him into little pieces.
Konga did not see Mitch and Espri enter the village. Though it was very late and most of the islanders had had far too much to drink, the celebration showed no sign of abating, and the pair were immediately caught up in the revelry. Drums pounded out a wild, sensual rhythm, and many of the Malikan women danced before the men, proud to show off their talents.
"Look! There's Espri!" one of the dancing women called out. "Come, Espri! Join us!"
Espri wanted only to stay by Mitch's side, but the women giddily grabbed her by the arms and pulled her into their midst. They knew she was one of the finest dancers on the island so they wanted her to join them in the joyous fertility dance. Unable to escape them, Espri gave Mitch an apologetic look.
Mitch, however, was intrigued at the prospect of watching her dance, and he smiled his approval.
The drums switched to a different rhythm, their pagan beat arousing all the primitive urges Espri tried so carefully to control. She had always enjoyed dancing, and she found herself swept away by the sensuous music. Her body moved as one with the throbbing beat, drawing breathless approval from those watching and envious glances from the other females. Though they were good, Espri outshone them, her lithe figure taunting and retreating before some unseen lover in bewitching, erotic movements. When at last the drums rose to a crescendo and then suddenly ceased, she fell to her knees in supplication, her arms outstretched, her eyes, fixed on Mitch, leaving no doubt as to her feelings.
There was a clamor of excited adulation when she finished, but it stopped abruptly for Konga roared to his feet, throwing his bottle of liquor into the fire with crashing, explosive intent Nervously, the hushed villagers backed out of his way as he stalked toward Mitch. They knew Konga was a force to be reckoned with, and they did not want to incur his wrath.
"I let you go easily last night," the huge warrior declared as he approached his rival. "But you will not be so lucky now. I challenge you to prove yourself, white man." He eyed Mitch with obvious disdain.
A challenge, so issued, was rare on Malika for it usually meant that the fight would be to the death. The carefree islanders generally enjoyed life too much to get embroiled in such heated confrontations, and Konga's dare shocked them. They all knew how he felt about Espri, but they had never suspected that he would go to such lengths to try to win her.
Espri gasped. "Konga, no!"
"Shut up, woman." His words were a snarl.
Mitch was caught off guard by Konga's dare, but he showed no sign of it as he faced the warrior, his stony gaze subtly gauging the islander's strengths and weaknesses. Though he and Konga were about the same height, Konga outweighed him by at least fifty pounds, and Mitch knew that could be a deadly difference.
"I have no reason to prove myself to you," he replied with disdain.
Konga colored at Mitch's taunt. "Then you are less than a man!"
Mitch leveled a frigid gaze upon his flushed-faced adversary as he shrugged with seeming indifference.
"There are those who would argue the point."
Taking him to mean Espri, Konga lost control and started to launch himself at Mitch, but Espri threw herself before her lover.
"You allow a mere woman to protect you?" Konga chided. "It is as I said—you are no man."
"Espri," Mitch said quietly, "move. This is something I should have taken care of last night."
"Mitch . . . please . . ."
She looked up at him pleadingly, but she found his fierce expression frightening.
"Ha!" Konga laughed. "He listens to the counsel of women! He is a fool!"
A hushed silence fell over the group as Mitch gently shoved Espri to the side. "You are the fool, Konga. You are like a wild dog, baying at the moon. You want something that will never be yours. A wise man knows the difference between that which he can and cannot have, and he accepts his lot without anger."
Konga drew his knife and tried to lunge at Mitch, but two of the island men restrained him.
"You have issued a challenge, and according to custom, it must be dealt with as such," one of the men proclaimed. "Form the circle."
The crowd stepped back until they were standing in a circle, the fire at its center. Then one of the men thrust a long-bladed knife, similar to Konga's, into Mitch's hand.
"There are no rules," the man explained.
Mitch nodded his understanding. He felt no fear as he stared at Konga. During his younger days he'd been involved in many a brawl in the saloons on the waterfront, and he was quite familiar with knife fighting. His advantage over Konga would be his ability to move, and move quickly. He intended to make the most of it.
The two men who'd been holding Konga released him and stepped back, clearing the circle.
"Come, woman," Konga
mocked. "I am waiting."
"Mitch, be careful," Espri whispered as she watched him move cautiously toward Konga.
As soon as Mitch took a step forward, Konga threw himself at Mitch, hoping to fell his opponent immediately, but Mitch nimbly dodged the heavier man, then returned his jeering laugh.
"You are the woman, Konga. You are fat and slow!"
A low chuckle came from the people, but it was quickly silenced when Konga turned a threatening eye on them. Tossing his knife from hand to hand, his movements more deliberate now, he advanced toward Mitch once more. But Mitch was ready, and when Konga launched another attack, he kicked out, knocking the charging warrior's feet from under him. Completely enraged, Konga rolled to his feet, bellowing furiously. Maddened by his rival's unexpected prowess, he lashed out with the knife again and again, backing Mitch toward the crowd, who, according to custom, were forced to shove him back into the fray. Then Konga feinted to the right, but hurled himself to the left. Caught by the ploy, Mitch fell beneath his opponent's great weight. He tried to throw him off, but Konga laughed at his attempt.
"If you were not a woman before, perhaps I should make you one now, eh?" He laughed.
"You'll not have the chance," Mitch scoffed as he freed a hand and chopped at Konga's unprotected throat.
The warrior choked at the surprise blow and grabbed at his neck. In great pain, he could not stop Mitch from slipping free of his weight. It only took Konga a minute to recover, and he was more infuriated than ever as he again circled Mitch. Death gleamed in his eyes as he thought of how wonderful it would be to sink his knife into the white man's heart.
Mitch read the change in Konga and tensed, sensing that a headlong assault was coming.
"Now!" Konga bellowed as he lashed out with his weapon and lunged forward. His anger helped him this time; he made contact with Mitch, shoving him to the ground and wickedly slashing his upper arm. Then he fell upon him and they struggled fiercely, brawn against brawn, as they rolled about the arena; each desperately seeking an advantage; each determined to win.
