“I’ll live on the beach eatin’ seaweed and turtle eggs before I’ll roll over and play puppy for you,” he informed her. “I’ll flag down a boat.”
“Good luck. Not many come by this way.” She smiled, although she felt weak in the pit of her stomach. Thena had to give him credit for determination. That was something she admired deeply, even if it did make the situation much more difficult.
“When you lose your desire to play Robinson Crusoe, there’ll be a clean bed and good food waiting here for you.”
“It’ll be a cold day in hell.”
“That’s too bad. The next cold day here won’t be until January.”
He advanced again, stopped again at the dogs’ fierce bristling, and jabbed one forefinger at her. “When I get my hands on you, I’ll tie you to that big ol’ bed of yours and let you watch while I tear this house apart. I’ll find that radio part or the boat key.”
“You’re free to go anytime you want.” She whipped a hand out in a gesture of airy dismissal. “Swim to the mainland.” Tie her to the bed? Would he really stoop to a personal attack? she wondered breathlessly. And if he did, would he be a gentleman? Or could the term “gentleman” even be considered for someone who’d tie a woman to a bed?
“I could come back here,” he began, “with my gun—”
“Pooh. You wouldn’t really shoot me, and you know it. Stop talking like a cowboy, cowboy.”
“What do you want from me, lady? You don’t want my body, that’s for sure. I got that message loud and clear.”
He was so wrong. She loved his build and the way he moved, quiet and easy, but with power. He was the kind of man who wouldn’t have to jostle his way through a crowd. He’d just amble between people, twisting those wide shoulders gracefully, always conscious of his movements but nonchalant about them. He was a man who thought of his body as a tool, not an ornament. She found that very appealing.
“I want your cooperation,” Thena answered. “I want your attention—”
“Go swimmin’ nekkid again sometime, and you’ll get it,” he challenged.
She covered her mouth in dismay and blushed
deeply. “You were here the other afternoon when I went swimming on the west shore?”
He was seething, and he wanted to provoke her. “Oh, yes, ma’am, and let me tell you, I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed a show more. You’re a filly with mighty fine conformation. Good legs, trim ankles, a beautiful chest, a delicate neck, a strong back, and a solid rump. ’Course, it’s too bad that you got a lame knee.” He disliked that cruel choice of taunts immediately when he saw wounded bitterness touch her eyes. “But that doesn’t matter, ’cause you’re the kind of pretty filly a man would want to use for breedin’, not workin’.”
Thena looked down her nose at him. “Most men remind me of a particularly ugly variety of pig. And I’d say that you’re king of pigs.”
“I’d say there’s somethin’ funny about the way you acted when I smooched you today. I’d say that there for a minute you wanted to take a wild wallow with the ol’ king of pigs here.”
“What lovely analogies. What a lovely person you are. I usually have to go to a stockyard to meet a man of your quality. How thoughtful of you to bring such brilliant repartee to my island.”
He held out both hands in angry supplication. “I don’t want to be here. You don’t want me here. There’s a durned fantastic solution to this problem. You call ol’ Farlo, I wait for him on that excuse-for-a-boat-dock you got, and he takes me far away from here, back where the gals talk sense and appreciate a good man.”
“I appreciate a good man who appreciates the beauty of my island,” she retorted. “And you’re going to stay here until you do.”
“I’ll be deaf, dumb, blind, and senile by then.”
“Which won’t be much of a change, I’m sure.”
In a battle of words, she would always win, Jed acknowledged glumly. “Dammit!” he said in frustration.
“What a marvelous vocabulary.” She nodded politely to him and walked back down the hall to her studio. Thena heard the screen door slam and his heavy footsteps leave the porch. Her knees trembling, she sat down in a chair by her easel and debated her chances of changing his mind. He was certainly a roughneck cowboy, but she’d never met anyone with a more gallant heart. Thena realized suddenly that she had taken him prisoner for her sake, as well as the island’s.
After she didn’t see him for two days, her curiosity and a traitorous amount of worry for his survival goaded Thena to slip quietly among the beach pines and spy on him. She saw him standing in knee-deep waves, trying to fish with a long length of twine. He’d tied a handful of seashells to the twine as a sinker and created a makeshift hook somehow. He was a magnificent sight, shirtless, the legs of his jeans cut off a little above mid-thigh to reveal dark-haired legs molded by sinewy muscles.
She’d missed a great deal of normal human interaction, growing up on Sancia with reclusive scientists for parents, and having Jed here made her ache with regret for never learning the easy social aplomb so many mainland women seemed to possess. She’d just have to rely on what she’d seen in the movies. Now, if she were Marlene Dietrich in
Destry Rides Again
, she’d sidle up to Jed and purr, “Vee oughta be friends, you know, mister. Goood friends.” And he’d do anything she wanted.
But she wasn’t Marlene, and he wouldn’t give in. If his fishing luck didn’t change, he was going to starve. Thena hurried back through the forest, making plans.
The next morning Jed found a canvas bag in the sand next to the remnants of his campfire. So Miss Witch moved on silent feet, he thought. Not bad. For
years he’d prided himself on the fact that his senses were so keen that no one could sneak up on him while he slept. “Probably a bomb,” he muttered wryly, as he opened the bag.
But inside were rolls, fruit, homemade chocolate chip cookies, two big chunks of cheddar cheese, sunscreen lotion, fishing line, hooks and sinkers, a jug of spring water, and a note. The note said, “I’m not the enemy and you’re not John Wayne. Please take a little help. Thena. P.S. Wouldn’t you like a shave, an ice-cold beer, and a comfortable bed?”
Jed picked up each food item with loving care. He inhaled the aroma of the fruit and stared at the cookies a long time. Then he put everything back in the sack. Sighing, he sat cross-legged in the sand and rubbed a weary hand over the beard stubble that had turned his jaw into an itchy Brillo pad. Then he began to laugh. He loved this crafty woman. He loved her, but he wouldn’t give in.
Thena found the sack on her front porch when she returned from the south marshes, where she’d gone to check on a nest of birds. She kicked her muddy walking shoes off and sat down by the bag. He hadn’t taken a thing, not even the fishing gear, she discovered. What a man. What a tenacious, hardheaded, wonderful man. He was becoming very easy to adore.
Three more days passed. Thena began to grow edgy as the battle wore on her nerves and concentration. She never heard gunshots, so she knew he wasn’t hunting the island game. He must be living on what few fish he could catch. And she knew that his only water supply was the slightly brackish creek that ran across his side of the island.
On the morning of the fourth day, she went to one of the inlets and gathered a few oysters for dinner. Rasputin and Godiva went with her, and as they neared the house on the way back, their ears perked up and they began to bark. Both big dogs bounded
ahead, and Thena hurried after them. When she reached the porch, she halted, her mouth opened in alarm.
A haggard-looking Jed was stretched out on the rough plank floor, his ankles crossed and his head pillowed on his rolled-up sleeping bag. He wore nothing but his cutoffs and the old leather sandals she’d given him. He squinted at her for a moment, then raised one work-scarred hand and saluted. The gesture appeared to take effort.
“John Wayne surrenders,” he murmured weakly. He put his hand down and closed his eyes.
“Oh, Jedidiah.” Thena ran up the porch steps and sat down beside him. He had lost at least ten pounds off a frame that had been as lean as a runner’s anyway. His face, neck, and arms, already bronzed by the Wyoming sun, were the only parts of him that the Georgia sun hadn’t burned. The thick mat of hair on his chest was now more blond than brown, and a fine pattern of blisters ran across the tops of his shoulders. His jaw was covered in thick bristle, and he had new squint lines around his eyes. His lips had cracked from the constant beach wind.
“Go ahead and say it,” he murmured, his eyes still shut. “I look like hell.”
Thena disregarded common sense and patted his cheek tenderly. “L’homme magnifique,” she whispered under her breath.
“What? Who’s home?”
“The beard makes you look like that actor on
Miami Vice
.”
He smiled at that kind remark and looked up at her wearily. “Just give me something to fish with. I’m tired of trawlin’ for minnows with my leg hairs.”
“Why didn’t you hunt? You could have killed a deer, or a rabbit.”
“I figured you’d never forgive me if I blasted one of the inmates here at Eden,” he grumbled.
“You mean you went hungry just so you wouldn’t hurt my feelings?”
“Pa always said I was dumber than a rock.”
Thena’s eyes glistened with tears. Now she was certain she could change his mind about her island. He had a huge, soft heart that he could no longer keep hidden from her. She took his face between her graceful hands and looked deep into his eyes. Her mind very carefully ignored the surge of physical desire that made her tremble inside. She concentrated instead on a sweet sense that she could trust him, that she liked him more than she’d ever liked anyone in her life.
“What a cowboy,” she whispered proudly. Then she leaned forward and brushed a gentle kiss across his forehead.
“Well … well damn.” His voice was a low rumble. “If I’d known you were gonna act like this, I’d have surrendered three days ago.”
Thena smiled wistfully and sat back. “Stay put,” she ordered. She went inside. When she returned a few minutes later, she carried a glass of milk, a bunch of bananas, and a quart-sized coffee can. “Sit up and eat while I rub something on your shoulders.”
He gulped the milk down and ate a banana before she even had time to kneel behind him and open the coffee can. “What is that stuff? Can I eat it? I could eat the hind leg off a mule, right now.”
“You don’t want to eat this. It’s an herbal poultice that I keep in the refrigerator. My friend Beneba Everett made it.”
“Huh. I’ve heard of her. Farlo Briggs says she taught you everything you know about bein’ a witch. That stuff’s gonna turn me into a frog, I bet.”
“Farlo thinks she’s a witch just because she grows the best garden in this part of the state. He’s jealous.”
“Aaaah. That’s cold. It feels great. I won’t mind bein’ a frog.”
He ate several more bananas while she smeared
the pasty concoction over his well-formed shoulders and back. He was too worn out and sunburned to be a threat, but still Thena felt uncomfortable touching him. His muscles bunched and relaxed under her fingertips, and she had to control the urge to massage the poultice in a little more than required. His skin was disturbingly hot from the sun.
When she finished, she handed him the coffee can. “You do the rest. I’ll get you something else to eat.”
“How ’bout a side of beef and a dozen of those ice-cold beers you kept temptin’ me with?”
She laughed. “I get the idea.”
He settled for two thick cheese omelets and a half pound of bacon. It seemed to her that he ate for hours. Plus, he drank two beers and two more glasses of milk with a gusto that made her want to cry.
“I’m so sorry you stayed out on the beach for five days,” she blurted. “You’re a very dauntless man.”
“Yeah, the sun burned my ‘daunt’ off the first day.”
She laughed, but sounded more upset than amused. “I’m really sorry,” she emphasized.
He gulped down a last swallow of milk and smiled carefully so as not to hurt his mouth. With a milk mustache on his upper lip and his brown hair tousled, he looked like a teenager. “If you’re really sorry, you’ll finish rubbin’ that cool goo on me. I haven’t got any on the front of my legs, and they sting like crazy.” He made himself look pitiful. “I’m so … so weak and kind of … woozy.”
“Can the chatter and lie down, you cheap con artist.”
“Where’d you learn such tough talk?” He stretched out slowly, and it seemed to Thena that every muscle in his stomach moved in a way calculated to draw her attention.
“Edward G. Robinson.” She spread the ointment
on his feet, first. “Good heavens, Jedidiah, the membranes between your toes are red. Are you sunburned all over?”
“Will you put ointment everywhere, if I say yes?”
“We’ll get along a great deal better if you don’t flirt with me.”
“You kissed me, wildflower. Right between the eyes. I’m allowed to flirt.”
“That was a … friendly gesture. Sympathy from one human who admires another.…”
“Then explain to me where admirin’ ends and lovin’ begins.”
Thena’s fingers slipped awkwardly over his knees. She ignored his request. Love? This cowboy was pulling her leg. “Bony. Your knees are bony. And you have scars all over your legs.” Oddly enough, they weren’t unattractive to her. Oh, no, Thena thought. When you start to like somebody’s little imperfections, then you’re a goner. She cleared her throat roughly. “What did you do when you were growing up, sir? Play skip rope with barbed wire?”
She rubbed a little ointment on his thighs, feeling the long muscles quiver as she did. Thena plunked the can down. Breathing too fast, she scooted away from him and leaned her back against the side of the house. He rolled over on one side and locked her eyes in a serious, intense gaze.
“I grew up mean and I grew up fast,” he told her. “I quit school in the tenth grade. My father was a drunk and he died in a knife fight. I’ve seen a lot of ugly things and I’ve done a few myself. But I’m honest, and I don’t hurt anybody or anything unless they try to hurt me or someone I love. I don’t drink much and I don’t do drugs. I’m generous with what I’ve got, whether it’s money or food or kindness.” He paused, his eyes searching her face. “I know you and me are light years apart in some ways, but in others I feel like I’ve never been closer to another soul in my whole life.”