Crimson Rapture (30 page)

What
would she do? What would she say? She didn't know; didn't know how she could
know. She could not escape the nightmarish vision of that night: Justin
standing over a man who had fallen to his knees, helpless with pain and begging
for mercy. Then, Justin cruelly lifting him to deceive with an embrace
before...

Christina
started, realizing she had been staring numbly into the gray depths of the
lagoon for nearly an hour, lost to the vision that haunted even her sleep.
Fresh water rushed into salt. The morning's gray sky painted the lagoon and the
ocean beyond gray, a bleak and dismal gray that seemed to offer no hope.

Christina
had been sitting by herself on the beach for a long time, too long, Hanna
thought. As she made her way down the beach toward her friend, she had known
something troubled Christina for some time. Christy had been all to herself
since Justin went hunting and the ill man had been buried. While Christy had
taken a fancy to Diego, she seemed far more troubled than grieved. Something
was wrong, she just knew it. She had tried many times to earn her friend's
confidence but to no avail; Christina would only say it was of no real concern.

Hanna
beckoned softly from behind. "Christy?"

Christina
turned and saw Hanna. In that moment and for no apparent reason, the world
suddenly came into sharp focus and she knew what she would do.

She
would leave him. Until that was possible, she would avoid him. There would be
times when avoidance was impossible; mayhap he would force his company upon
her, physically or otherwise. There was little she could do to stop him. But
she could disappear perhaps for days on end if she hid in the wilds and at
least then, when the opportunity came to leave him, it would come as no
surprise.

As
for her love, a love she suddenly knew as real and passionate and undying, she
would just have to accept it for what it was—a mistake. This was not a paradox,
for she quite literally loved him against her will, but she would not submit to
that love—no matter how powerful—with a lifetime of anguish.

"Christy?"
Hanna beckoned again, disturbed by the determined stare, "why are ye
lookin' like that?"

Everything
came with the fresh vision of a babe in arms. Hanna, sweet Hanna. The island
had transformed her as well. Whereas Lady Knolls had tumbled down the
formidable class structure, Hanna had been elevated. Once merely a plump, jolly
maid, now elevated to the lofty position of a sea captain's wife. A great
equalizer this island was; shifting and shaping lives irrevocably.

"Have
you noticed how much we've all changed on the island," she asked quietly.

Hanna
could not fathom where this question arose from but determined to engage her
friend in any conversation, she brightened and quickly agreed. "Oh
aye." She first laughed, running a hand through her red curls. "I've
lost my plumpness and gained a sea c'tain for me 'usband. As soon as we're
back, I'm gonna purchase the fanciest rags imaginable, rags fit fer a queen.
Then I'm gonna walk into the finest shop in all of London and I'm gonna say, 'I
want this and that and this and oh heavens no! Silver 'twill never do, never.
Must be gold, real gold, fer nothin's too good for the likes of me,' " and
she curtsied, "a sea captain's wife."

Christina
smiled at the song and dance, the first smile in what felt like a long time.
Hanna was lovely now, no doubt about it and she was certain to do fine as
Jacob's wife—provided she had voice lessons. Nothing separated class as much as
elocution. Hanna lost weight and gained the status of a sea captain's wife; she
lost her innocence and gained an unwanted love.

"Do
come see your cave, Christy." Hanna tried again to cheer her friend with
the news that Jacob just finished making a table and chairs for them. "All
the fixin's are in and whilst the table and chair would 'ardly impress a lady,
they be real nice and Elsie and I fixed a fresh bed for the two of you—"

That
was the wrong thing to say. "I don't want to," Christina interrupted
unkindly and abruptly turned back around.

Determined,
Hanna tried again. "Then, what say ye, we go check the traps and pick some
fruits?" There came no reply. So she added hopefully, "Jacob says
'twill be the last chance before the storm comes."

Christina
translated this into the last chance she might have to escape. Justin would
surely return with the storm and if she could lose Hanna in the forest...

"Very
well," she said shortly.

Losing
Hanna proved easy business. Once in the forest Hanna busied herself with the
task, chatting amicably as though nothing was wrong and apparently not requiring
response from her. With Hanna's back turned, Christina quietly slipped through
the trees and was off, planning to return to the first wood tents three miles
up the beach. The tents would provide shelter and no one would think to look
for her there, at least not for a while.

A
warm breeze blew strongly through the trees as she picked her way slowly
through the forest, always watchful of the lizard beasts. The first sight of a
small lizard scurrying over the ground almost sent her running back. Should she
suffer one of the those nightmares alone...

She
stopped, unconsciously rubbing the scar on her leg. No, she could endure it
alone; she had to.

Suddenly,
a muted cry—distinguishable from all outer exotic calls of jungle—broke the
quiet. It came from the interior of the island. She listened, waiting at first,
hearing only her heartbeat and even breathing against the backdrop of birds,
trees rustled by the wind and a small stream burbling somewhere behind her.
Then it came again.

Someone
was in agony or pain...

Without
thinking what it might be, she started toward the cry, at first moving slowly
but then faster and faster as the sound grew louder. She began running as much
as this was possible through the thickness of the jungle. Arms fought to clear
a path through the overhanging vines, ferns, and towering rubber tree plants
seconds before her bare feet touched moist earth.

A
wide trunk, strangled by vines and thereby hidden, lay menacingly across her
path and she tripped and flew crashing to the ground. She fell hard; her shift
caught under her knees and ripped at the seams. For several seconds she
remained on her hands and knees with her face reddening, staring at the large
tear in the only "decent" garment left.

The
next agonized cry bid her quick recovery and she scrambled to her feet and was
off. She stopped after some distance and, realizing she had passed it, she
waited for the next cry to orient directions. It was very close now. An animal
in pain, she realized, turning toward it and now exercising caution.

She
finally reached a small clearing along the banks of a trickle of a stream and
she stopped, stared, needing several long seconds to grasp what it was. The
cries seemed to come from the very earth itself. Nearby, hanging grotesquely
from a tree, was a dead bird. Its belly had been slit, blood and entrails
spilled to the ground. Suddenly she saw there was a huge pit dug in the earth,
camouflaged with leaves and twigs. Attracted by the bird, the creature had
fallen into the pit and was now crying for escape. She slowly inched forward,
afraid of what it might be.

Picking
up a stick, she poked the earth in front of her, not wanting to make the same
mistake as the creature of slipping on insecure ground. She came to the edge
and peered inside, gasping instinctively.

It
was a large piglike creature, wider and almost as large as Beau, another one of
the island's boars. His cries had died to helpless whimpers and her heart broke
as she watched his hoofed foot paw futilely at the loose soil of the earth. Sensing
her presence, he turned his head and locked small dark eyes with hers. There
was no fear or anger or threat from this her natural predator. Just a weak cry.
A cry she knew as one for help.

She
didn't know what to do. She should run to fetch Cajun, who could probably dig him
back out, but she wondered if there was enough time. The poor creature could be
injured from the fall but surely he would die of fright before then...

She
looked around for a means to bring him water, hoping this would hold him over until
help came. Finding nothing, she glanced at her skirt and never hesitated. She
tore the skirt completely from the seams, doubled it over, and turned to the
stream. Using the material like a cast, she filled it with water and hurriedly
brought it to the edge of the pit, then lowered it by the ends until the
knapsack of water reached the creature's head.

The
distressed creature cried out at this new torment but then, realizing what it was,
he thirstily lapped it up and Christina smiled.

"Get
the hell away from there, Christina!"

Christina's
startled eyes shot up to see Justin moving swiftly toward her. She dropped the
wet skirt on the boar's head and stumbled back to a stunned sitting position.
Tall and now so dark from the long months in the sun, clad only in breeches and
with a bow swung around his chest, he looked like a savage. A dagger and a
saber hung from a thick black belt at his waist.

Frightened
and not knowing exactly why, she tried to scramble to her feet but not in time.
Like an angry hawk, Justin swooped down upon her and lifted her to safe ground
beneath a huge willowlike tree away from the pit.

"Have
you no sense, girl?" He stared down at her furiously. "What the hell
do you think you're doing?"

Fear
mingled with alarm. He might indeed have been a savage, cursing in an alien
tongue, the way she stared up at him in terrified incomprehension. She felt the
unleashed violence radiating from him, barely controlled, and like the first
time she saw those sharp features on his bronzed face, his devastating gaze, or
felt his strength, she wanted to run.

"Well?"
he demanded harshly.

"I...
I heard him crying and I thought to bring him water—"

"Water?"

Another
woman would have slapped the cruel grin that spread across his face as he
considered this. She held herself perfectly still though and dared not breathe,
for his gaze lowered to her bare form and made her at once acutely conscious of
the absurdity of her half-naked figure. She had on only the torn bodice of an
old nightgown and a loincloth, that was all.

Justin
almost laughed as her arms crossed protectively over herself. She was the last
person he needed to see here, dressed like that and performing the ridiculous
stunt of bringing water to a doomed boar. He couldn't trust himself with her;
she was the reason he stayed away. Until he found some peace, extirpated the
seething emotions of his heart, he knew he could hurt her and badly.

After
having lost a fine chase, Beau raced into the clearing. He sniffed out the boar
and barked excitedly, prancing back and forth. Justin glanced at his dog and
the pit, then turned back.

"Go
back to the others, Christina," he said in dismissal as he released her
and turned to the pit. "I'm in no mood to play the dashing gent out to win
his maiden's affection."

His
tone should have warned her but something held her to the spot. She realized in
an instant that Justin had built the trap, that Justin was going to kill the
poor animal just like—"Don't kill him!"

He
swung back around to confront her, standing feet away and in a pleading pose.

"Please..."
Her voice trailed off and her eyes lowered, both embarrassed and confused by
the desperation in her request.

But
Justin understood only too well. "Spare the boar and find
redemption?" he questioned incredulously, then shook his head and chuckled
contemptuously. "You are so innocent, Christina. It will take a damn bit
more than a boar to give me redemption. Now get out of here."

He
called Beau down. The dog sat back obediently as Justin straddled the pit. He
removed his saber and using both hands, he raised the sword over his head.
Wide-eyed, terrified, Christina clasped a hand over her mouth to stop the
scream in her throat, refusing still to believe he would.

The
doomed creature cried as Justin swung the sharp blade into his neck with all
his strength, killing the creature instantly, mercifully. A fountain of blood
spurted into the air, dying quickly, and the creature collapsed. With some
effort, he pulled the sword from the flesh, wiped the blade on moss, and then
knelt by the stream to clean the sword thoroughly.

Christina
never understood what came over her but it was as close to a crazed madness as
she would ever trespass. She forced herself forward until she stood at the edge
of the pit looking down as though she had to see to believe. The sight sent her
heart pounding frantically, her face reddened, and her fist clenched as she
stumbled back beneath the willow tree in repulsion.

"You
killed him!"

Justin
was surprised she was still there. "Yes, Christina," he said calmly
now, "I killed him."

"You
killed him," she repeated in a demand for his remorse, guilt, anything but
the calm acceptance of the unforgivable. "He was so helpless... begging
you for mercy... and, and you killed him!"