Crimson Rapture (28 page)

* * * * *

Christina
still fumed over Justin's morning shenanigans as she bent over beside Cajun to
pick roots. They were lost in the jungle's forest in search of herbs, roots,
and plants that Cajun might use for medicine. She was thankful for the task,
more thankful for Cajun's silent companionship. She thought she would cry
should she have to talk.

Patches
of huge billowing clouds pushed against an expansive blue sky, a bright
afternoon sun. Like shades drawn against light, the moving clouds caused
intermittent darkness and bursts of sunlight to fall over the island. It was
still warm, even hot, and the ever-present humidity was a challenge to endure
uncomplainingly.

Cajun,
who often had to use his saber to hack a way through the profusion of lush
growth, exercised his keen sixth sense to discover things she would never have
found by herself. He constantly amazed her. He stopped but rarely, knowing
exactly what was worth picking to place in his fishnet and what was not.

The
outing was proving to be an ordeal. She eyed the thick foliage distrustfully,
startled by every slight sound and watchful of the changing areas around her
feet. Ever since her attack, the jungle had become dangerous and frightening as
well as beautiful and exotic. Though she knew she would always be safe with
Cajun nearby, every small lizard—and the island was covered with them—sent her
heart pounding in fright.

She
had to force herself to keep moving. She never would have come on such a
venture had she been able to bear seeing Justin after the morning's
humiliation. She had met his laughing eyes only once and she knew she had to
escape, if only for the day.

Cajun
spotted something and leaned over to lift a blanket of moss from a moist bed of
earth. His deep chuckle drew her attention and she hastened to his side to peer
over his shoulder. Tiny, queer-looking mushrooms grew in the moist bed. Cajun
pulled one from the dark soil, turned it around for a close examination, and
then chuckled again while shaking his head.

"What
are they?"

"Mushrooms."
He stated the obvious. Mushrooms for which men will pay a fortune to own. A
small sack could bring as much as a thousand licras in some places. He had
never known where the valuable toys—for he thought of them as such—grew. It was
a well-guarded secret.

"Well,
what are they good for?"

"Many
things." Cajun smiled strangely. "Primarily for increasing one's...
ah, appetite."

"Oh,
like a spice? Are they tasty?" she asked as she reached to pick one of the
tiny globes.

Cajun's
hand came over hers to stop her. "I wouldn't know. But you,
la niña
—"
and this made him laugh, "do not need such things. We will leave them for
now."

Cajun
turned and moved away to a promising group of rubber trees, but Christina was
hardly deterred. Her appetite was indeed fine and she might not need them, nor
Elsie nor any of the men. But, on the other hand, Hanna had lost all her
pleasing plumpness. Hanna simply could not eat enough on the island and more
than once Jacob complained, threatening to turn Hanna in if she lost another
ounce—just as soon as trades were possible.

The
mushrooms might be just what Hanna needed.

Christina
knelt and picked one. She plopped it into her mouth, wondering if the taste
dictated it be mixed in Hanna's food or given to her directly. She chewed and
chewed, then swallowed. They seemed curiously bland. She put another one in her
mouth and chewed and suddenly—

"Uuugh!"
she gasped as suddenly a horribly bitter aftertaste hit her palate. They were
awful, just awful! She wouldn't give one to Hanna if it were covered in
chocolate! After a quick glance around, she spotted Cajun nearby. While his
back was turned to her, it would hardly do to spit in front of him—in front of
anyone.

She
swallowed and got it over with. She needed something to wash it down with.
Already she felt her stomach turning in revolt.

Definitely
not a spice.

* * * * *

Sometime
later Christina sat on the beach with Hanna and Elsie, sipping coconut milk and
finally feeling her stomach settle down. Her friends were engaged in a heated
discussion about Carolyn Knolls's latest predicament. It seemed John had
decided she was to be his personal servant. He made her see to his every
need—washing his clothes, fixing his food, even carrying his fishing pole,
giving him back rubs and the like, fetching this and fetching that.

Yesterday
the men had a good laugh upon catching sight of Carolyn walking a respectful
distance behind John, carrying his fishing pole and net.

"It
seems we have a real live taming of the shrew," Justin had laughed.

Christina
remembered her absolute fury at the remark, the situation—as if the poor woman
hadn't suffered enough, and she demanded that Justin stop it.

"Stop
it?" he had chuckled. "Why, Christina, I'm thinking of adopting his
method."

Hanna
and Elsie were still upset over it and Christina thought she should be but why
something so upsetting to her yesterday seemed humorous today, she didn't know.
But it did and she giggled suddenly, the idea of the grand Lady Knolls carrying
a fishing pole for a man like John striking her as somehow wonderfully absurd.

"What's
tickled ye?" Elsie asked, unable to see anything funny in the situation.

"She
is a shrew!" Christina cried. The idea made her fall back over with
laughter. "Why, I bet she ends up in love, just like Katherine."

Hanna
and Elsie exchanged shocked glances.

"That's
not very funny."

"No,
it 'tisn't," Hanna agreed, confused. "After that 'orrible night, I
don't see anything funny a'tall."

"No,
no, you're right," Christina quickly agreed, trying somewhat
unsuccessfully to humble her laughter. Oddly, she could not seem to focus on
the horror of that night at all. It seemed a distant vision, elusive and yet...

"What's
wrong with ye?" Hanna suddenly asked, looking at Christina's wide, vacant
eyes, her flushed face.

"I
don't know... I feel so... so warm," she decided. Her blood seemed to be
warming in stages and she had the strangest sensation of actually feeling her
blood flow through her veins. She felt excited and agitated and ever so happy
all at once.

Hanna
reached a hand to Christina's forehead. "Well, you're cool to the touch.
Don't know w'at it could be."

"Island
fever," Elsie explained in a heavy sigh. "We're all gettin' stir
crazy here, trapped on this rock. If we don't get rescued soon..."

And
the conversation shifted easily to this popular subject.

But
Christina's thoughts had already traveled miles away. She was acutely conscious
of all things: the warmth of the sun on her face and the warmth of the sand on
her feet, the sweet taste of coconut milk in her mouth, the delicious
fragrances of flowers and earth and sea, the soothing rush of the river water.
And she was thinking that life suddenly seemed pleasant, so pleasant indeed.

She
shifted uncomfortably, abruptly remembering the morning. How effortlessly he
had conjured her passion and how effortlessly she had succumbed! She remembered
his warmth, his caress, his lips...

Her
heart started beating faster, her blood flowing furiously, and a blush spread
across her cheeks.

She
best not think of that now...

She
couldn't seem to stop though. For a long while and despite her best effort, she
found herself lost to memories of his lovemaking. She was so lost to memories,
such vivid memories that she suddenly sat up and crossed her arms over her
bosom, glancing at her friends. They were oblivious to her oh-so-obvious train
of thought. She glanced out over the lagoon to where Jacob and Justin sat
fishing in the lifeboat. Justin...

She
didn't care anymore.

She
stood up in a rush and skipped to the shoreline, waving and calling out to him.
She suddenly just wanted to see him. She had an irresistible craving just to
look at him.

The
thought of seeing him made her so excited that she never wondered at the sense
of it.

Justin
finally looked up and caught sight of Christina waving on the shoreline. He
stared for a moment, surprised by her summons considering the week-long animosity
and then the trick he played on her this morning. Something must be amiss.

Justin
dove in and quickly swam the mile or so. He reached the shore and came quickly
to Christina's side.

"What
is it? Is something wrong?" he asked, breathing deeply and glancing behind
her and around for something amiss.

"Nooo,"
she said too slowly, staring not at his face but at his body. His skin was so
smooth and bronzed, small beads of moisture sliding off his muscles. His
muscles! She felt suddenly fascinated by his muscles, muscles everywhere. He
was so strong...

"What
is it?" he asked again.

"Your
muscles..."

"My
what?"

"Your
muscles..." She raised her arm to run a single finger from his shoulder
down his arm.

Justin
watch the finger in confusion. "My muscles?" he repeated, following
her gaze over his body. He looked behind her again, thinking, "You want me
to lift something for you?"

"Nooo,"
she said, again too slowly. She looked up to his lips. She reached a hand to
her own lips, vividly recalling the taste of his kiss and suddenly all she
wanted was for him to, "Kiss me!"

"Kiss
you?" He stared for a long moment in disbelief. "Oh no,
Christina." He shook his head, laughing. "If you think for one minute
I would let you get away with the trick I played on you this morning—"

"Oh
no! No trick..." She stopped, finding it difficult to talk because it was
impossible to think. She giggled at herself. "I only want you to kiss
me." She reached a hand to his chest, and ran a single finger teasingly
there. "If you kiss me, then I'll—" and she reached up on to her
tiptoes to whisper something he simply could not believe came from her mouth.

He
stared at her in stark disbelief, confusion, and no small amount of amusement.
There was something wrong here. She would never say that. Until now he would
have bet his life she didn't even know the word for it. He was all for the
suggestion and to say the least after this long week, he would more than
happily comply but there was something wrong with her. Even if she wanted to
make up, even if she suddenly found herself desiring him as much as he did her,
she would not have said that.

He
continued to stare down at her, waiting for some explanation.

Christina
giggled at his obvious stupefaction. "What's wrong?" She reached her
arms around his neck and lifted back on her tiptoes so that her hips pressed
against him and the tips of her breasts touched his chest. She felt his quick
response and giggled again. "You do want to kiss me, don't you?"

This
was too much. Too unbelievably much. Something was definitely wrong.
"Yes," he said, "but after I find out what's wrong with
you." And he lifted her into his arms, calling for Cajun even as he moved
to their cave.

Justin
had just set her to her feet inside the cool darkness of their cave when Cajun
appeared at the opening. He bent his huge weight and stepped inside,
straightening to stand in wait.

Justin
was staring down at her, trying to hold her at some small distance long enough
to get to the bottom of it. But he could not seem to turn from the seductive
mischievousness in those eyes. "There is something wrong with her,"
he explained. "Christina, say something to Cajun."

"I
don't want to talk to Cajun." She could think only of his kiss, how much
she wanted to feel his hands on her again. Though abruptly it occurred to her
how rude that was! "Oh, Cajun," she giggled, not understanding the
sudden feeling of dizzying excitement, how she couldn't get her mind off...
"I don't mean to hurt your feelings and, and I always love talking with
you but, but—" She looked back to Justin with a smile, "right now I
just want—"

"I
know what you want," Justin quickly interrupted. He stared at the sultry
desire in those wide gray eyes, a smile that all too easily revealed her
thoughts and he suddenly laughed, trying to keep control just long enough to
know what happened. "What I want to know is how come?"

It
required but a few moments for Cajun to know what must have happened.
"Christina," he said with a smile already lifting to his dark eyes,
"did you taste any of those mushrooms I pointed out to you?"

Christina
was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything but Justin.
She stared intently, confused and frustrated by this long wait for his arms,
all these questions, Justin's own curious mixture of confusion and amusement.
Every inch of her skin seemed waiting to feel his touch, his kiss—

"Christina,
sweetheart, can you answer Cajun's question?"

"What
question?"