Desire in the Sun (26 page)

After a while he propped himself up on his elbows to look at her, a considering expression on his lace.

“There’s no taking it back, you know. Whatever happens.”

“I don’t want to take it back.”

“You gave yourself to me. You’re mine now, and your bloody precious Keith can go whistle himself up another fiancée.” His eyes were brilliantly green in the otherworldly light as they fixed on her face.

“Mmm. I love being yours.” That sensuous response, coupled as it was by her hands stroking over his broad shoulders, seemed to satisfy him. She saw no point in pointing out that his name was Kevin, he was likely drowned, and that whether he was or wasn’t, the gulfs between herself and Joss were still as enormous as ever. Not tonight. Tonight was special, a magic few hours out of reality. Besides, it was always possible that they would never get off the island, that they would live out the rest of their days here, marooned together. It was amazing just how appealing that idea suddenly seemed.

His face relaxed, and he rolled off her. She curled cozily against his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder. One arm rested on his flat, furred belly. Her fingers busied themselves by walking through the soft wedge of curly black hair that stretched across his chest. They marched down the line of his ribs, across the ridged hardness of his abdomen, found his belly button and dipped teasingly inside. When that provoked no response other than a slight flicker of his eyelids she delicately tickled his belly.

That broke through his pensive inattention at last. He shifted sideways slightly to escape her mischievous ministrations even as he grunted a protest. She followed, tickling his side this time, and he caught her hand. His
slow-dawning grin earned him an answering smile and a soft kiss pressed against the stubbly side of his cheek.

“If you don’t watch yourself, I’ll be making love to you all over again before you even have a chance to catch your breath:” His eyes glinted at her threateningly.

“I’d like that,” She twinkled back at him.

He laughed then, the sound a trifle rusty but definitely a laugh, and hugged her closer, her hand still safely imprisoned to prevent further assaults on his ribs. “Shameless little thing, aren’t you? Whoever would have guessed it?”

Lilah looked up from her interested inspection of his chest to frown at him. His words caught her by surprise, stung. It was a moment before she spoke, and when she did her voice was low.

“Joss, am I truly—shameless? Aren’t … well, most Ladies like me? When it comes to—to …” She broke off, her eyes troubled.

“No, my darling, most ladies are definitely not like you. In my experience, most
females
are not like you. From ladies to whores.”

“Oh.” Her voice was very small, and she felt a sickening wave of humiliation. She had been too bold, too frank in her enjoyment of him. He must think her wanton. …

Joss saw the look on her face, and quickly scooped her up and rolled with her so that he was on his back and she sprawled on top of him. His hands cupped her bottom, his fingers lightly stroking the soft, rounded flesh,

“No, most women are not like you,” he said again, holding her in place when she would have wriggled off him to find a more dignified posture. “You’ve been given the gift of passion, and I thank God for it. It’s a rare gift in females, precious and beyond price.”

“Truly?” she asked, her eyes still faintly troubled.

“Truly,” he answered gravely, then he pulled her face down to his.

His mouth was warm and gentle and softly persuasive. He held his passion in check, letting her set the pace of the kiss. She grew bolder, her tongue urging his into playful battle.

When at last she lifted her head his eyes were turbulent with passion, Lilah smiled into them, feeling a drowsy heat spiral through her loins. But when she would have bent her head to kiss him again, he eluded her with a shake of his head, his hands catching her shoulders and pushing her upright. As she obediently sat up his hands slid down the front of her body, moving intimately over her breasts and belly and the soft thatch of hair between her legs. Then he showed her how to straddle him.

With her hands resting on his chest for balance, Lilah frowned down at him, confused. Was this his way of putting a brake on their passion? Perhaps men could only pleasure females once or twice before needing a rest? She realized anew how very little she knew of men.

“If you’re tired …”

Her words were hesitant, wanting to offer him a way out without damaging his male pride, which she knew from hearsay was very sensitive in this area. He looked up at her then, shifting his eyes from their interested study of her body. The heat in his eyes was only intensified by the slight smile that quirked his lips at her words.

“Not yet,” he said, the words husky even as his smile broadened until it was a lopsided grin. “We’ve hardly gotten started. You’ve still got lots to learn. If we’re going to be lovers, you need to know what I like.”

“What you like?” He sounded as if he were a gourmet at a feast, choosily selecting his menu. Surely there was not more than one way to perform the physical act. He must mean something else. …

“Mm-hm. For example, sometimes I like to see you—all of you—when we make love. So every once in a while I’ll want you to be on top—just like this. So I can see your beautiful breasts. …” As he spoke he reached up to cup them. Lilah’s lips parted slightly as he seemed to weigh them, then ran his thumbs teasingly across her nipples. Shafts of pure fire shot through her.

“Joss. …” His name as she moaned it was half protest, half pleasured cry.

He abandoned her breasts to slide his hands over her ribcage, over her small waist and the delicate curve of her hips, over the slight roundness of her belly. Heat followed in the wake of his touch, melting her bones until all she wanted was to collapse on top of him and have him make the exquisite ache he had caused inside her go away.

Although Lilah had often, guiltily, tried to imagine what it would be like to perform the marriage act with a man, in her wildest imaginings she would never have pictured this: herself naked, slender and pale and washed by moonlight, sitting on her lover’s chest as he lay sprawled in the sand as naked as she, the wind blowing her hair in a silvery cloud around them both and the night enclosing them in a cocoon of mystery. It was something out of a dream, though she would never have dreamed of such a thing. Her dreams of love were gentle things, as sheltered and innocent as she had been herself. If she had lived a thousand years her dreams would never have included anything like this pagan lovemaking.

Not before tonight.

She gasped as the warm strength of his hands touched her knees, slid from them up the silk of her inner thighs. She froze as exploring fingers found her soft nest of hair, stroked over it softly, burrowed to discover secret wellsprings of passion that Lilah had not even guessed she possessed. As his fingers pressed against her she
cried out, moved, her head falling forward and her eyes closing at the intensity of her desire. Only her hands braced against his chest kept her from collapsing.

“Now I want you to love me,”

His husky whisper came as she was on the verge of failing into the vortex that awaited her. Lilah’s head lifted and her eyes struggled open as she tried to make sense of what he had said. He must have seen the incomprehension in her eyes, because his fingers pressed against her one last time before his hands moved to her hips, lifting her bodily away from his chest and lowering her carefully onto him. Lilah gasped as she felt the fiery heat probing against her. Then he was inside the first little bit and his hands on her hips were tugging her down, down until he filled her and she was squirming against the hugeness of him.

“Love me,” he muttered again, the words thick. His eyes were glazed, his face flushed with passion. The muscles of his arms and chest stood out in corded relief beneath his bronzed skin as he fought to keep himself in control so that she could set the pace. Gasping, Lilah did as he asked, clutching his wrists as with his hands he guided her hips in the motion he sought. When she had learned the motion to his satisfaction he released her hips to find her breasts.

Lilah cried out as his hands closed over them.

As if that small sound had snapped something inside him, he groaned and pulled her down to him so that he could take her breasts in his mouth. He suckled with savage hunger, his hands hard and hot on the silken roundness of her bottom as he held her still above him and ground himself upwards into her. Helpless to do anything but respond, Lilah gave herself over to the fierceness of his passion. Finally with a hoarse cry he clutched her close, trembling in her arms. As he held himself inside her she cried out too, swept away on that firestorm of passion that had claimed her before.

Then at last they lay quietly in each other’s arms, quivering with exhaustion and sated passion. The warm breath of the wind caressed them, the moonlit stillness of the beach stretched all around them, the surf rolled in to kiss the shore in a gentle rhythm. But the two entwined together in the sand were aware of nothing beyond themselves.

Caught up in the drugging aftermath of passion, they slept.

XXXI

R
ough hands grabbing her beneath her armpits and dragging her out of the warm cocoon in which she slept woke Lilah. She had a single shocked instant to register that it was no longer night but dawn. Pink and purple pinwheels spiraled out from the pale yellow sun just peeking over the eastern horizon. The tide lapped far up the beach, dangerously close to where she had been lying, narrowing the strip of sand to a width of less than a dozen yards.

Then in the same instant she realized that she had been sleeping in Joss’s arms on the beach, and she was now being dragged away from him, her bare skin scraping over the gritty sand. A grinning, dirty-looking man in a scarlet shirt and black breeches whom she immediately took for one of the pirates stood with his bare foot on Joss’s shoulder, aiming a pistol point-blank at his face.

Joss, too, seemed stunned by what was happening. As Lilah looked on in horror, Joss’s head rose an inch or two from the sand, swiveled in her direction. The pirate holding the pistol said something, cocked the pistol, and Joss’s eyes swung back to the pistol and the man who held it. Joss froze, every muscle in his body seeming to tense. The pirate’s grin broadened. His finger seemed to tighten on the trigger. …

Lilah then understood that the hands holding her belonged
to another pirate, one with a lush red beard and a missing front tooth, who was leering at her nakedness as he dragged her farther along the beach. Lilah had no doubt that in a matter of seconds the pistol in the hand of the first pirate would explode, Joss would be killed, and she would be brutally raped by one and possibly both men.

The reality of what was happening sank in at last and she screamed.

The sound was as loud and shrill as a steam whistle. The man dragging her jumped and cursed, kicking her in the back with his bare foot. Lilah barely felt the blow as she struggled to escape his hold. Her scream had apparently distracted for a vital instant the pirate bent on murdering Joss. Even as she fought to break free of her captor, she was aware of Joss’s hand closing over the hand holding the gun, of the pirate who had threatened him twisting through the air. … Suddenly there was an explosion, and then she was free. The red-bearded man abandoned the fight and took to his heels as Joss came running toward them. The other pirate lay motionless in the sand. Lilah sank to her knees, shaking. After a single glance at her that seemed to register in a millisecond that she was unharmed, Joss chased the red-bearded man along the beach and into the forest. And it was then that Lilah thought that even if Joss caught and killed the other man, the pirates would certainly miss two of their number. They would come looking for their crew-mates. More pirates might even at that moment be watching her.

Eyes wide, Lilah looked around, fear causing a sour taste in her mouth.

Except for the dead man, the beach was deserted. She was alone. At least, she seemed to be alone.

Her eyes scanned the forest. If they were watching her, they would come out. They had no need to fear a lone woman. On the contrary. …

The memory of the fate that had befallen that other
woman taken prisoner by the pirates flashed into her mind as vividly as if it was happening before her eyes at that very moment. Lilah shuddered.

She was naked. Her eyes swept the beach for her clothes.

Funny how different everything looked in the brightening light of dawn. Some half-dozen yards away, just beyond the dead man, loomed the rock from which she had watched Joss swim. The tide had almost reached it. Her dress lay in its lee.

Whatever happened, she would face it fully clad.

Barely taking time to brush the sand from her body, she shook the clothes out and pulled them on, doing up the buttons and lacings with a frantic haste slowed only by trembling fingers.

She had no sooner swept her hair out of the back of her dress than Joss emerged from the forest. Heart pounding, she ran up to him.