Crimson Rapture (26 page)

Indeed
the knife held to Carolyn's throat held bloodstains and John turned, bringing
her with him as he did so. Samuel lowered a torch to his friend's back and the
crowd gazed at the nasty, though far from fatal wound.

A
low angry murmur rose from the men...

* * * * *

Christina's
thoughts were nothing but a tumult of chaotic confusion and anxiously she
searched for some balance, an equilibrium if even temporary. She just needed
something to calm her fears and put her heart at ease long enough to know what
to do, what not to do. She found no such peace at the water's edge and she
started back to the caves in search of Cajun. Cajun would help her understand
and then, then maybe she could face Justin.

Christina
stopped dead in her tracks, and with wide eyes, she took in the horrifying
scene. All she saw was John holding a naked Carolyn Knolls before a crowd of
men.

"I
did try to kill him!" Carolyn suddenly burst in near hysterics as John
swung her back around to face the crowd. "I did! I will kill any of you
for coming near me! You're not fit to wipe my boots! Do you hear me? Not fit to
look at me!"

This
outburst caused no small amusement among most of the men. "We may not be
fit, but we sure are capable!" one man shouted.

Christina's
wits returned all at once and she rushed to Justin. She tripped facedown in the
sand, picked herself up, and ran, practically falling on Justin. "Stop
them! What are they doing? Justin—"

Justin
hardly glanced at her but he motioned to Cajun. "Get her the hell out of
here." And before she could react, Cajun was lifting her into his arms to
bring her quickly away from the scene.

Carl
stepped forward and in a low, nearly inaudible tone, he vented an anger he had
held in his heart for long years. An anger that rose from the fact she did not
consider any of them fit to wipe her boots; an anger rising from the cruelties
of an ancient class system.

"Not
fit to wipe your boots, ye say? I remember me own father was hung by your
kind... hung 'cause 'e broke 'is bloody back tryin' to feed eight mouths and
pay your kind's taxes, hung so that your dogs could eat better than people,
hung 'cause one day 'e gets so tired of watchin' 'is own flesh and blood die of
starvation that 'he goes out and shoots a partridge on some 'igh and mighty
lord's land! Hung! The poor bastard was hung 'cause of you and yours!"

Silence.
Then suddenly Carolyn, with a reddened face and a futile twist in John's arms,
simply spit in Carl's face. "That's what I care about your father!"

Carl's
gaze bore into hers as he calmly wiped his cheek. He straightened, raised his
arm, and swung hard into her face. Carolyn cried fury, struggled fiercely to
free herself from John's arms. John glanced at Justin for permission and an
almost imperceptible nod passed between them. And then it started.

John
laughed at her struggle and tossed his baggage to another man, who in turn
tossed her to another and so on. A loud ribald chorus rose from the men,
drowning her predictably desperate cries as she felt one set of greedy arms,
then another and another.

Justin
and Jacob turned away and, seeing the end, she cried hysterically, "No!
Don't leave me with them! Nooo! I'll... do anything... any—"

Jacob
shook his head in disgust. "Lord, if any woman deserves what she's going
to get, 'tis 'er."

"She
has indeed dug her own grave."

Beau
was oblivious to all this, still devouring the femur bone in blissful privacy
far down the beach, and after a few futile calls, Justin climbed the ladder. He
made his way around the ledge, under the waterfall, and into the torch light of
the cave. Obviously distressed, Christina jumped up and ran to him. "What
was happening? Did you stop it?"

Justin
first stared at her dispassionately, then somewhat incredulously. "Stop
it?" He strolled to the trunk and sat down to remove his boots. "No,
Christina, I didn't stop it."

"No?"
she questioned with incomprehension. "Why not? Is it over? Is she all
right then?"

Justin
made no reply, though he looked at her with some hint of amusement. Her
innocence still startled him and he was beginning to see he might have a
problem here.

With
confusion written on her features and not understanding why he wouldn't answer,
Christina moved to the opening of the cave to listen for sounds rising from the
beach. She could barely make out the chorus from the men above the waterfall.
"I—"

Suddenly
a scream broke over the island.

"Oh
my God!" she gasped, turning back to him. "They're hurting her! You
must do something." She ran to him, dropping to her knees in desperation.
"Why aren't you doing—"

"Shhh."
He gently laid a hand to her mouth. "I'm not doing anything. I'm going to
bed."

"But
I don't understand? I—"

"No,
you don't understand," he cut her off. "It's fairly obvious that your
innocence keeps you ignorant. And I'm not about to change that."

Her
eyes widened in bewilderment but she backed away shaking her head. The next
scream snapped her head around. She paused for a moment to listen and then
enlightenment came with a sudden gasp.

"Nooo,"
she whispered. "You couldn't... you wouldn't... I don't believe it—"
She was backing away from him in horror, then suddenly she turned and ran,
thinking only that she would stop it. Justin swore and rose to give chase,
catching her just at the waterfall.

"Let
me go! Let me go—" she half pleaded, half cried, prying desperately at his
arms. "If you don't stop them, I will! I'll do it—"

"You'd
likely become part of the meal. You're not going anywhere near there."

He
brought her back to the cave and sat her feet to the ground. She seemed to
collapse all at once and he loosened his hold as he watched tears filling her
eyes.

"How
could you?" she cried in a whisper. "How could you—"

"She
deserves it, Christina."

"Nooo!
No woman deserves such a thing—no one!" She shook her head. "Just
because she has a condescending manner—"

"That's
hardly the extent of her crimes. Among others are asking my men to build that
house in return for her favors, then denying them, doing her best to humiliate
them and finally trying to murder John. And had she murdered John, it would
have been her second murder. Christina," his tone emphasized the fact,
"she killed the poor old man who was foolish enough to marry her!"

She
looked up with disbelief and a pause. "How... how do you know that?"

"What
I haven't witnessed, she's told me herself."

"I
don't believe you. And, and it doesn't matter. No matter what she's done—"
She stopped at another sound of a scream—this one a half cry, and she felt all
the horror any woman would feel. "Oh please, Justin!" Her clenched
fists pounded haltingly against his chest. "Please, I can't bear it—"

"You
can bear it and you will. That's enough—"

"No."
She panicked. "If you don't, I'll—" Another scream caused her a
choked cry. "I'll never forgive you," she cried in a sudden passion.
"Never!" She tried frantically to twist away, hurt and angry and
afraid, afraid it was true. "You're mean and cruel and—"

"Is
that the best you can do? Mean? Cruel?" He questioned lightly. "It's
an embarrassingly poor performance sweetheart," he said as though she were
but a small child. "You must remind me to teach you... ah, more convincing
adjectives—"

Nothing
could have shocked or hurt her more than his sudden amusement and she half
cried, half gasped and twisted one arm free. With surprising strength, she
slapped him in the face. Now Justin was surprised. It was completely out of
character for Christina. He lifted her off her feet, and with two strides, he
lowered her to the low bed of moss and pinned her beneath him.

"Stop
fighting me."

Tears
streamed down her face but she could not stop fighting him. Fighting not just
him but all of it, the ugly cruelty of the men on the beach, the cruelty of
Carolyn Knolls that solicited such treatment. The cruelty of a harsh reality
she simply could not face.

Justin
was far more grounded in the here and now. The small body twisting beneath him
created a more immediate conflict, one that he would end.

"You
stop fighting or—" he warned, "I'll find some way to occupy
you."

The
threat brought a quick awareness of his desire. She stopped abruptly and looked
at him through the blurred vision of her tears, fearful that he actually meant
such a threat. The last thing she wanted was to be forced to make love to him,
for her mind was filled with ugly visions of what must now have happened on the
beach and the comparison was neither farfetched nor pleasant.

"Yes,
Christina, I want you," he said in an altogether different voice, suddenly
not caring, not caring about anything but her. And how could he not want her
so? Her hair captured the flame's red light and spread as a wide golden halo
around her head, her face was flushed, and her eyes wide, misty, still wild
with her fight; wild in a way that just begged to be tamed.

She
shook her head almost frantically but he laid his hands on the blanket spread
of her hair to still the motion. And then he kissed her, lowering his weight to
stifle her brief struggle. The kiss was long and thorough and she squirmed in
rebellion, trying to cry out against the tender assault of his lips. Until it
became clear that any movement only added fuel to his passion and, once
realized, she went limp, completely limp.

Feeling
this, Justin lifted partially from her. Amused eyes met enlivened, angry ones.
"It won't work, Christina," he whispered against her ear. His lips
caressed the long line of her neck and she closed her eyes as shivers passed
through her. "Other women might be able to participate passively, but not
you." He gently bit her lip. "Never you..."

Holding
her arms in one hand, he rolled partially from her and began slowly unbuttoning
the tiny buttons of the flimsy shift. She closed her eyes again and said
nothing as he untied the waist belt and parted the garment. And still she said
nothing, even as he released her to lift the shift from her, stopping only long
enough to drink the salty moisture of her tears.

* * * * *

It
was sometime close to the dark hours before dawn when he finally released his
claim on her and he pulled her unresisting body against him. She cried softly
and she trembled slightly, this despite the warmth radiating from him. She felt
her heartbeat spiral slowly downward, seeking a peace that could only come with
sleep.

Jacob
called Justin to Diego's hut early in the morning and Justin, thinking
Christina asleep, left without a word spoken. Which was fine with Christina,
for she had not a word to say to him. She rose and knew what she must do. While
the task caused no small amount of trepidation, it dictated urgency and she dressed
quickly, stopping only to take a quick cleansing bath and not bothering to take
the time necessary to get a comb through her hair.

She
made her way into the bright sunshine and found Hanna and Elsie finishing a
morning meal of fruit at the pond's edge. They both looked tired and solemn,
suffering the effects of a long sleepless night. Neither spoke nor offered
Christina a greeting as she approached.

"Will
you come with me?" Christina asked softly.

Elsie
diverted her gaze.

Hanna
looked at her feet and, distractedly, she buried them in the soft mud.
"Don't want anything to do with 'er," she explained in the same
solemn whisper. "Don't want to see her or to think about it. I just want
to pretend it never happened." And with that, she got up and left.

Christina
watched her go, then turned to Elsie. "Elsie?"

A
haunting minute of contemplative silence followed Christina's beckoning.

"I
suppose you're afraid to go alone?" she asked quietly.

Christina
nodded.

"I
am too. I know 'twill be a 'orror, it will." But she stood up. "I'll
go. Though I don't know why we're wastin' our sympathy on 'er. Lord knows, if
anyone deserves—"

"No,"
Christina said in quiet fortitude. "Don't say it, please don't say it. I
don't care what she's done. No one deserves that. Not the most wicked person in
the world."

Elsie's
soft dark eyes considered this. "You're too good, Christy, too good.
You're like a misplaced angel, you are, and sometimes I don't think you belong
here on earth with us. Come on." She stopped to pick from the basket of
fruit. "I don't suppose she'll be hungry, but just in case."

They
made their way to Carolyn's small hut and knocked softly on the door. There at
first was no answer, though they heard a shuffling from inside. They knocked
again, louder. "It's us—Christina and Elsie. Can we come in?"

There
was no answer and bracing for the worst, Christina slowly opened the door. It
was dark inside. The reed shades were drawn tight against the morning sun. At
first they saw nothing. The room looked vacant. Only a bed of moss, a chair
from Justin's ship, and a small makeshift table as furnishing. A bouquet of
dying flowers wilted in a coconut shell on the tabletop. As their eyes adjusted
to the dim light, they spotted her in the same moment and Christina could not
stifle a gasp.