Beyond paradise (27 page)

"But how . . ."

"Like this." He swiveled just a little so he could thrust into her. His full lips cushioned hers, one hand squeezing her buttocks while the other cradled her head, fingering her cottony tresses. The very tip of his manhood touched her, making her long to shy away. But he reassured her by pulling back from her lips and looking her straight in the eye. He smiled, stroking her hair until she smiled back. "Are you ready?" he asked, his eyes squinting in joy. Just gazing into his warm, brown eyes and feeling his smile like a kiss put her completely at ease. She nodded, knowing she would trust him with anything. So he sealed their union by once again joining with her lips, and squeezing her against his chest, warming her, shielding her, and restraining her all at once.

She was moist and open to him, returning his hug with all her might and passion. In response to his gentle, careful entrance, she rocked her hips forward. At first, he restrained himself, making sure that his intrusion was gradual even as her enthusiastic response grew bolder. He brushed the hair

Elizabeth Doyle

from her face and kissed her forehead, his eyes thoughtful. She demanded he return to her lips, catching one of his between her teeth. He replied with a kiss that was devouring and forceful, as he could tell she wanted it to be. Soon, she had grown so slick that he was piercing her to the hilt. Their arms entwined, their hips moved quickly in a silently agreed-upon rhythm.

Jacques pulled away from the lingering kiss and smiled at her. They gazed at each other like friends, like smitten, love-struck friends. "I like it this way," she sighed, her hand brushing up and down his strong, bare waist.

"It's rather more equal, isn't it?" he asked with a smile. She nodded and grinned.

The lantern flickered out. It had given all the light it had in it, and announced its retirement with a few last sputters and then darkness. The moonlight became brighter in its absence, casting a silvery glow upon the lovers, whose smiles crowned their otherwise savage lust with a halo. Jacques felt himself lose control, clutching her bottom with a painful grip that only brought her closer to her own passionate release. She became aware of a hollowness deep within her womb which longed to be touched by him. She thrust harder against him, forcing him deeper and deeper, squeezing him between her legs, nibbling on his lips to claim him for her own.

He was the first to lose control. He spilled into her with heat that made him moan huskily and helplessly. At the feel of his salty passion bursting in her womb, she, too, found release. She rubbed her breasts against his rugged chest, massaging them with the hardened muscles there. She forced him to stay inside her even though he felt he had nothing more to give, using his manhood to rub an itch she would never have been able to reach without him. Then she cried out, her whole body shuddering against him. They cradled one another and sighed, stroking each other's backs as though in

BEYOND PARADISE

257

promise, a sacred agreement about the privacy of what they had just shared.

Sylvie felt sleepy and dreamy. It had been emotionally exhausting. She had never loved someone so fiercely before, had never admired someone to the point that it made her heart swell just to look at him. She was madly, unbearably in love. And it was exhausting. He rolled to his back, letting her go with a kiss. He strained to make the reach for his snuff, which he stuffed under his lip before tossing its box away. "I love you," said Sylvie. At first, he did not reply, and she imagined it was because he was on his back and couldn't see her. So she tapped his shoulder and repeated, "I love you."

To this, he gave the most tender and most heartfelt of replies. He slid one casual arm under her shoulders, and rolled her toward him. Then he took her hand in his free one, and shaped it into a fist. "What are you doing?" she laughed, but he didn't answer. He freed one of her fingers and held it out in a crooked position. Then he closed it again and lifted a different finger. Sylvie started to understand, and it made her breath quicken. She stopped blinking and merely watched, her hand trembling slightly in his firm grip. His hands worked with surety and gentle but uncompromising intent as he forced her fingers to take the shapes he chose. Softly, in a deep, but somewhat sleepy voice, he began to say words. "Stop," he said, holding her palm open. "Come," he said, flipping it over. "Tomorrow."

He sat up a little and scooted her into his lap so he could use both hands on hers now. "If you're speaking quickly, you can use shortcuts. Like this." He led her hands in a series of movements which she watched with eyes that were tearing up.

"What did I just say?" she asked, looking up.

"You said you're my love slave and you're here to serve me.

Elizabeth Doyle

She elbowed him in the gut, making him burst into a fit of laughter. "All right, all right," he grinned. "You didn't like that one. Let's try something else." He moved her hands in another dance, and finished it by dropping them gently in her lap.

"What did I say that time?" she asked daringly.

He lifted her chin with his knuckle and said, "You said you forgive me." He swallowed awkwardly. "You said you forgive me for forcing you to the altar like that, and for being so callous with such a nice lady who deserves nothing but kindness."

The repentance in his eyes made her want to weep. But instead, she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed. "Sylvie," he said, pushing her away with gentle hands, "will you marry me properly? Will you marry me when we reach Paris?"

Her lips trembled in confusion, but strangely, her eyes were fixed with certainty. "Some day," she said, brushing back his silky hair, "I shall look back on this moment as being either my hour of greatest weakness, or my hour of greatest strength. I'm not sure which." She laughed nervously. "But yes, Jacques. I will put aside what I'm told is right for what I know is right. I will marry you when we reach Paris. I will be your wife."

He embraced her in a hug so powerful, she thought she would break unless she melted against him. So that's what she did. They stayed up into the wee hours of the morning, grinning at each other, imagining themselves as truly husband and wife, and feeling so giddy about it. Their hands joined over and over as Sylvie rehearsed the secret language that would bind them forever. The language that would forever separate them as a couple, upon whom no outsider could intrude.

Twenty-seven

"I assure you, I know how to captain my own ship." Etienne had been on board for only a few hours, but already, his crew was thinking of mutiny

"Sir," said Captain La Croix, tugging at his small white beard in agitation, "with all due respect, I tend to think of the Island Storm as my ship."

"Pshaw! That's preposterous. Who paid for this vessel?"

The captain's eyes drifted warily about the deck. It was no small matter to be scolded before his men, and though the lads pretended to pay it no heed as they went about their chores, they were listening intently He was sure of it. "Your family did," the poor man admitted, "but they also hired me to captain it."

"Then I am officially unhiring you," said Etienne haughtily, tossing his faux curls over one shoulder. "I am perfectly capable of commanding a ship, and frankly, I don't like the way you're doing it."

"I've more than twenty-five years experience," grumbled the proud captain.

Elizabeth Doyle

"And I," said Etienne, hooking a fist on his hip, "used to help my father sail his fishing boat. So if you will pardon me, I plan to take charge of what is rightfully my vessel."

"Sir, I have to ask you not to do this. Your parents said specifically—"

"I am a grown man! Out of my way!"

"But sir .. r

"Be gone!" Etienne spoke loudly enough to humiliate the old captain in the eyes of his crew. The poor man looked up and around him warily, shamefaced though the men turned away one at a time, pretending they had not been staring.

"Aye, sir," he said pitifully.

"Good. Be gone with you. It's about time I take charge of this mission to rescue my bride. It seems no one else has been able to rise to the task. Don't worry, men!" he called, waving at them all. "The ship is now in good hands! Now stop gawking! That's right. Get to work. Very good." He fumbled with a rolled-up map, nearly losing it in the wind, and then crumpling it upon its retrieval. Oh, blast it. How hard could this be?

Jervais crossed his bulging arms against his barrel chest. He stood on the deck of his ship like a warrior. All around him, men were scurrying and tending to their chores, but he was so staunch and proud and forlorn in all of his black garb that he stood among the crowd like a lone black flag. "Sir," said Pierre, his first mate, the only man who dared speak to him without groveling since Sylvie's escape, or "capture" as Jervais preferred to call it. "Nobody seems to have seen them. We've checked a number of ports, we've stopped every ship we've encountered. Nothing."

Jervais never looked people in the eye anymore. It was as

BEYOND PARADISE

261

though he felt all of humanity had betrayed him, and he could no longer bear to look at it. His squinted gaze fell upon the distant gray sky where he searched for solace for his broken heart. "We're not giving up," he informed Pierre sternly.

"I would not even have suggested it, sir." And it was the truth, for he knew his captain would die rather than suffer injustice. "What I am suggesting is that they are no longer sailing the islands."

Jervais showed interest with a tilt of his head. "You think they're crossing the ocean?"

"If that ship can make it, sir. I believe someone would have spotted them if they were still here, either in a port or at sea. Chances are that we would have encountered someone who'd at least seen them in the distance."

"But these are Caribbean pirates. All of their bases are here. These islands are their life."

"It could be they're planning to hide overseas until we stop chasing them, and then come back."

Jervais wrinkled his nose. "Do you think?" He snatched a map and traced the most ship-friendly path with his finger. "That's an awfully long voyage for men with no food or coins."

"Well, sir, they are pirates, after all. Perhaps they plan to rob their way across."

"I would have thought they'd at least stop in a port for supplies before engaging in something that arduous."

"Everyone says nay. They must have gone without."

Jervais sighed heavily, casting a defeated glance at his crew. "I hate to make the journey. I hate to set out without knowing for certain which way they've gone."

"We don't need to happen upon them, sir. We only need to happen upon someone who has seen them and can tell us which way they headed. I'm sure we can do that much."

Elizabeth Doyle

He seemed to worry about the risk, though in truth, he was mainly disappointed. He had hoped it would take less time, that he could have Sylvie in his arms without spending weeks crossing the ocean. "What if they're still here and we just haven't found them?"

"What if they're not, and they're getting farther away as we make circles round the islands?"

Jervais took comfort in his first mate's confidence. "All right," he said with scrunched eyebrows and a firm nod, "I'll take your advice. We'll head out."

Both men lifted their chins and gazed curiously from one horizon to the next. "Did you hear something?" asked Pierre.

Jervais was still looking, his fierce brow furrowed.

"I could have sworn ..." They heard it again. It sounded like a human cry, carried on the wind like an echo. Pierre called to the lookout. "Try to find where that sound is coming from! It sounds like a distress call!"

But Jervais had already spotted it. "What in the name of—"

Pierre followed his captain's line of sight and saw a tiny ship far to the west, adorned with a strange, flapping shape on its mast that appeared to be human. "Help!!!!" cried the curly-wigged man, waving his plumed hat, his own body blowing in the breeze.

"What is that?" asked Jervais in disgust.

"It appears to be a sinking ship!" called the lookout. "It seems it has hit a rock."

"No. I mean what is that?" asked Jervais, nodding at the screaming man clutching the mast.

"It appears to be a cowardly man trying to captain a sinking ship."

Jervais groaned. "That's what I thought. Oh, very well. Let's rescue them." He turned on his heel and moved to the bow very impatiently, for he could barely stand to rescue a coward.

BEYOND PARADISE

263

When none other than Etienne Peridot boarded the ship, tossing his long ringlets proudly over his shoulder, Jervais's expression changed from one of scorn to one of sheer amusement. "Ah, you found us," said Etienne, sniffing in recognition of the captain. "I told my crew that if I climbed the mast and called out, someone would surely rescue us. I'm glad to see I was right."

Jervais laughed rudely, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Your crew?" he asked. "What made you think you could captain a ship?"

"HI have you know, I'm quite experienced," he said, "and in any case, it is my bride we are seeking."

Jervais thought he would rather have Sylvie marry a pirate than the likes of a coward like Etienne, and that was quite a strong sentiment for a pirate-hater like Jervais. He just couldn't bear to think of her possessed by such a weakling. Pirates may have been demons, but at least they were strong demons. "We are seeking nothing," Jervais was quick to inform him. "I am leaving you at shore where you belong, and then / am hunting Sylvie."

"But you begged me to come! You told me it was my place to find my bride—you and my mother both!"

"That was then," said Jervais, "that was when I was of a mind to pretend you would be wed. But I am no longer hiding my intentions." He gazed challengingly into the slender man's bony face. "I am going to hunt her, I am going to find her, I am going to bring her on board this vessel, and then . . . I plan to keep Sylvie for myself."

Etienne was rendered momentarily speechless. It was clear he wanted to say something very biting indeed, but his eyes kept falling upon Jervais's enormous physique, and he continually silenced himself. He looked about him for assis-