Forbidden Desire. Tina Donahue
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here.”
“He’s a good man. You should follow his lead.”
“By wedding an island woman and getting her with child?”
Tristan planted his hands on his hips. “You bloody well know what I mean. Keep away from the women while I sort this out.”
“I want to leave with the islanders who come to trade. They should be here in weeks, surely no more than a few months. They have to travel before the cyclone season begins. To get rid of me even faster, Royce and the men here could take me to Mozambique in the Lady Lark or to the other natives’ isle as they did Bishop’s crew. Blindfold me. Keep me in the hold so I don’t know the route. Bishop never told me. I wasn’t his captain or quartermaster. Without the knowledge, I could never repeat it to another soul. Not that I would anyway. I give you my word.”
“Which counts for nothing if pirates waylay the ship and beat what information you do know out of you or scuttle the sloop and everyone drowns. At that point, I’d have Simone’s and the other women’s grief to contend with, plus worrying about a possible attack on these shores. No thank you. Why didn’t you consider this before you agreed to stay here?”
Heath could barely contain his outrage. He squeezed his fists to keep from shaking. “What choice did you allow me? It was either give you my allegiance as a free man, or be a slave for life to the other islanders, the same as Canela and the pirate everyone calls Yellow Scarf. No one said I’d never lie with a woman for the rest of my days. If they had, I would have spared you this trouble and shot myself.”
Tristan’s mouth jerked again.
Heath clenched his jaw. “This isn’t funny.”
“No one is laughing. Nor do I wish you ill. You have proved repeatedly you can be a good man, but that doesn’t give you license to behave as an islander. This is their land, not mine. We must respect their people, in particular, the women. If we don’t, they could revolt, then where would we be? There are no habitable islands around here, save this one. I expect you to remember that while I speak with James and Royce to determine the best course. I’m sorry for the suffering you have to endure, but these things can’t be rushed. You’ll simply have to understand and behave yourself. That above all.” He left the room.
Heath sagged against the wall, no further now than he’d been days before. Tristan could drag this out for months, clear to the storm season when the weather trapped everyone here. After that, he could conveniently forget the problem. By then, Diana would most likely carry a second child. So would Simone and Gavra and countless other women. Peter could be wed. Aimee too. And Netta, despite her hand. They’d have children. They might expect him to care for the babes until he died from loneliness or old age.
He tore into the courtyard.
The women looked up from their looms, the wash, and the potter’s wheels.
Heath raced to the wall.
Gavra shouted, “Where are you going?”
Heath had no idea. He dashed into the forest. Bushes and trees rushed past. The cliff came up sharply. He veered before he shot over the side, bolted the way he’d come then back once more. A futile race to nowhere that he couldn’t stop until his calves ached, feet hurt, and lungs burned.
He sank to the ground and could have cried. Despite his fatigue and pain, the clean, sweet air reminded him of Netta and Aimee. Their lips on him. Hands searching, arousing, comforting.
Everything he could never have.
Chapter 4
The morning dawned brighter than any other, the sky clear, breeze warm. A good omen Aimee wasn’t about to waste. She hurried to the basin in her and Netta’s mud house, washed, combed her hair, and rubbed fragrant petals over herself.
Netta tied a yellow cloth around her hips. “If you take all my flowers, what will I use?”
Aimee snatched two silk sacks and tossed the bright red one to Netta. “We can pick more.”
“Before we eat?”
Excitement chased away Aimee’s hunger. Yesterday, she’d learned where Heath would be this morning. “We can bring food with us and eat as we work. Diana wants berries for her bread. In the loaf, I think. If what Gavra makes tastes good, we can have as much as we want.”
“If Diana chooses the right words in French. Many times, she still doesn’t. Gavra’s berry bread could end up feeding the birds. We best stuff our bellies before we gather anything.”
“I can see to what Gavra needs. You should pick leaves and petals for Simone’s potions.”
Netta sagged. “They look the same no matter what she says. What if I choose poisonous ones rather than those that heal?”
“She always knows which to use. You have to at least try or things will never change.” After their kiss with Heath, Netta had refused to leave their house for days unless she absolutely had to assist Gavra in the kitchen or mothers with their children. Once she finished those tasks, she raced back here.
“You do it.” Netta held out her bag. “Being a healer is too hard. I like helping others with their work, not their good health.”
“Then help me.” She padded to the cowhide that served as their door. “And stay close no matter what happens.”
Netta drew back. “What do you mean? What do you expect?”
Aimee couldn’t tell her the truth. They’d never leave. “I expect lemurs, lizards, even flamingoes. No end of animals that could make you bolt.”
“What are you talking about? I like the pink birds and the other creatures never bother me if I do the same with them. You always jump and squeal when an insect buzzes too close.”
“Then you best protect me. Come.” She gripped Netta’s wrist and pulled her from their home.
“Wait. We forgot our food.” She ducked back inside and took too long to gather their morning meal.
During their walk to the stone house, Netta ate bread and fruit. Aimee declined her share. Her stomach fluttered too much to eat.
Heath’s scent, warmth, and strength lingered in her thoughts.
Netta stopped.
Aimee strode past, unwilling to delay their arrival.
“Where are you going?” Netta stood near the courtyard wall.
Aimee hadn’t seen it or anything else except her fantasies: Heath in her and Netta’s home, them in his, each sharing laughter, converse, meals, evenings, love.
Sun spilled past trees and drenched the courtyard in a golden glow. Earth gave up its rich morning scent. Dew clung to grass and leaves.
Near the looms and potter’s wheels, women hugged each other in greeting and smiled. Children dashed around vegetation or played quietly in the shade. Infants fed at their mother’s breasts and waved their tiny fists aimlessly.
Aimee’s chest hurt. She yearned for a real home, a large family, a future no one could take away. When the pirates had invaded, she’d lost everyone except Netta. During those dark times, she dreaded having a babe. After what those beasts had done to her, she wasn’t certain she could.
Melancholy pressed close. She pushed it away, ready for a new future even if she had to pull Netta into it kicking and screaming.
They greeted their friends and exchanged pleasantries.
Simone shuffled into the birthing room.
Aimee elbowed Netta. “Maybe you should give healing another try. Or at least helping Simone. Go on and ask her what the plants and petals should look like so you can collect what she needs.” Troubling over them in the forest would keep Netta busy before they ran into Heath.
“I think not.” She shoved the remaining bread in her