Paradise Island (20 page)

“My dear friends, how it pains me to see you like this,” Estelle said. She felt so powerless, so helpless against the great force that threatened to end her world.

“I thought you were dead,” Claire whispered.

“I have been helped by a witch, and there is so much deep, strong magic.” Estelle looked into her friends clear blue eyes. “My father is here!”

“Oh, Estelle. He is alive?” Claire gripped her hand to her chest.

Estelle nodded. “Barely. He didn't recognize me. He was under some sort of spell or enchantment.”

“What of Gregory Marshall.” Dalia stared at her.

Estelle kept her eyes from her friend. “He is also with me.”

“It is a sign,” Dalia said. “This is something that both of you need to do together.”

“You cannot trust him,” Claire said.

Estelle paused. “Things … have changed.”

Dalia straightened, bringing her hand to Estelle's shoulder. “You trust him,” she said.

“He has given me reason to change my mind,” Estelle said.

“That is good. That makes you stronger,” Dalia said.

“Still, how am I to help you?” Estelle said as a wave of helplessness crashed on her.

“You are strong. You will find a way. There has to be an answer on this land. There is a reason why you first chose this island amongst so many. You are the only one who can save us,” Dalia said.

“I don't want to leave you,” Estelle said. “I am home and I am staying. I will protect you here. I will protect Paradise and everyone living here.”

Claire uttered a low sob, bending double around a pain in her stomach. “They know you are here,” she said.

“But how?” Estelle asked.

“It is the magic. You are bound. I can see it linked to your fate and your soul. You must leave us,” Dalia said.

“I don't want to go. I am not going,” Estelle cried. She laced her fingers though her friends fingers, one hand with Claire one hand with Dalia.

“You must. You were chosen. There is a journey you have to follow.”

“I need to be here,” she said.

“There is no choice. They will find the village if you stay,” Dalia said. She closed her eyes and a tear fell from the corner, running down her cheek.

Estelle's body was picked up by invisible hands. She drifted towards the roof, clinging to Claire and Dalia's hands. “I will not go. I want to be with you.”

“Be safe my friend,” Dalia said.

“Be strong,” Claire whispered.

They let go of her hands and the mists closed in.

The fire had died and the predawn morning held its chill. Gregory stirred. Estelle slept with her back to him, spooned tightly against his body. Her bottom was pressed against his groin and looking at her, stretched gloriously naked in his arms his body kicked into an immediate heated reaction.

Their lovemaking was more than mere physical attraction. It had gone far further than that. His response to her, wanting, desiring, to give her all that he could so that she may feel safe, cherished. Loved.

She breathed lightly in her sleep. He brushed aside a stray wavy strand. Her lashes created auburn shadows beneath her eyes. Her mouth was rose bud pink, full and sensuous and entirely kissable. As she was, her features relaxed in sleep, she looked young. Vulnerable. None of her life's experiences pressed onto her face as they did when she was awake. Asleep, she was as she should be, carefree and unscathed by life.

He wanted to keep her here in safe in the cocoon of his arms, safe within a fire's light and the magical circle of the runes the old woman had provided them with. He was overwhelmed with the need to protect her, even knowing that she could more than look out for herself.

The woman who had been ignited with such passion by his touch that it swept his own consciousness beyond words to a world filled with touch, sensation, tenderness —
love
. It was the only word he could name to that feeling that had him wanting to hold her in his arms until the end of his life, to not let her out of his sight for even a moment, to heal her wounds, physically and mentally, to keep her by his side, not as a possession, but as a companion, a partner, a soul mate. For the first time in his life he was content to lie still and just
be
, to stop the constant searching, the relentless duty, his marriage to the Navy.

He had found something that would make his life worthwhile.

It was all thanks to this woman that lay sleeping, just as secure in his arms as he was protected in hers. And now he knew what it was like to be in love, the headiness, the breathless intensity. The realization that in their predicament, the world really could harm him if anything should befall her.

Gregory watched her sleep. Her hair fell in disarray over her shoulders and over his arms where she used him as a pillow. He couldn't remember lying this way, sleeping with her pressed so intimately against him, but they must have fallen asleep together like that. Secure in each other's arms.

Her skin was alabaster white. Scars marred the perfection of her skin, some small, other had left a pink jagged line. She was a china doll. Fine boned, smooth skinned, toned, hardened. But her nipples held all the magnificent color of her hair. He was drawn to the nubs that had hardened with the cool air, realizing it would soon wake her as it did him.

Beside them were some neatly folded blankets beneath their pile of clothes. A sardonic smile touched his mouth. Conveniently left buy the old woman, no doubt. He reached for their clothes that lay crumpled next to them, drew a blanket over her, and reached for his own. Tangled in the arms of his shirt was her satchel. He shook his shirt, pulling it towards him to try and dislodge it so as not to wake Estelle. He carefully withdrew his arm from beneath her head so that he could look further. She stirred, but was soon asleep once again. The satchel upended and the contents scattered. He picked up the folded map that fell to the ground.

Gregory unfolded the map, uncreasing the recent folds and crinkles that it had endured while in the satchel. The sketches he had made on the landmarks now crystallized into meaning. The topography showed the same land undulations as the island they were on. Seeing it as Estelle had discovered on the edge of the cliff left no doubt in his mind. He quickly located the scoop in the mountain range and the course that would take him directly to a cave.

This must be the same cave from the ancient legend. The same cave that could save Elias and bring an end to Jack Cutlass's tyranny. The same cave that would let him end his constant searching, his duty to the Navy and let him start a life with Estelle. For the first time in his life he knew that —
somehow
— he could make it all work.

The night had given way to the new grey light of dawn, before colors pricked the sky to wake the world for the day ahead. He saw that they were next to the stream that was the center of the map. There was no sound of the waterfall, so they could be much further along the river than he might have thought.

He stood, pulling on his clothes, searching for a landmark that could identify their location. As he watched, rays of sunlight broke through the grey and he saw the golden glow on the top of the mountains lighten. There was not a trace of doubt in his mind. The scoop that was so clear on the map was now backlit by the sun, the edges glowed a pure gold, a shining beacon on the path to the cave. It was no more than a mere mile away. Gregory's smile widened into a satisfied curve. The end of the day would mark the end of this nightmare.

He would just have to make sure that they both got through this alive. If there was a chance of survival, a chance to live the life he now wanted to firmly grasp with his two God given hands, no matter what it took, he would do it. He wanted to tell her how strongly he felt, needed to find the right time and space so he could tell her how important she'd become to him. When she woke, he would be sure to find the right moment.

Estelle stirred, throwing her head to one side. She murmured something unintelligible in her sleep. Gregory knelt beside her. Her body was tense now, so at odds as she had been in the soft pliancy of sleep. A frown marred her forehead as she tossed her head again. A thin sheen of perspiration layered her skin.

She started to moan and thrashed her arms. Her features contorted into a look of fear. Gregory held her and called her name softly to save her from the grip of a nightmare. Her heart beat at a rate of knots, she breathed as though she had run a mile. And still she slept.

“Estelle, wake up,” Gregory said.

She cried out and raised her hands as if fighting. “Claire! Dalia!” she said. She woke, flushed and bathed in perspiration and looked directly at Gregory, catching her breath.

“You've had a nightmare. You're all right now,” Gregory said, holding her to his chest, waiting for her to recover.

“No nightmare,” she gasped.

“Sometimes they seem so real, but believe me, you were here all along,” he said.

Estelle pulled away from him, just enough so that she could speak to him face to face. “I know nightmares. I've had enough of them. This was real. It was Dalia. She was in my head, talking to me, telling me what is happening, right now as we speak. My friends, Dalia, Claire — they're in trouble. The village is in trouble.” She grasped his forearms. Her eyes were clouded with fear. “There is a power. A dark magic. It's after them. It wants to destroy the village. Dalia is hiding it, but she's getting weak. There's no telling what the dark magic will do to them.”

“Is Dalia strong enough to hide a village?” he asked.

“I don't know. She was strong enough to hide my ship the night when … ” Estelle gnawed her bottom lip.

“When you kidnapped me,” he finished.

Estelle nodded. “But a whole village … She's weakening. We have to go. I have to help them,” she said.

She went to stand, but Gregory held her to him. “We need to think things through. How are we going to protect them from this magic?”

Estelle shook her head, her mind in clear turmoil and wiped her hands over her face in desperation. “There has to be some way to stop the magic, stop Jack before he gets to them. Maybe if Jack thinks we are alive, he'll leave them alone and come for us.”

“And what if he succeeds in finding us? He'll attack us again and we might not be so lucky as to have the old woman on our side to keep us safe. Or alive,” Gregory reasoned.

“We have to end this curse.” Estelle grasped Gregory's upper arms, fingers digging into his skin. “We have to try. I don't care if I die, but I have to try and save them. There are so many innocents living in that village and Jack will destroy them all.” A broken sob fell from her lips.

He wanted to wipe away the painful anguish that was clearly written on Estelle's face. He felt her pain, knew her torment and realized her desperation. Jack Cutlass was on his way to wipe out everything she knew. There were hundreds of lives at stake.

“We will do it together,” he whispered.

With a cry she melted into him, desperately finding comfort. She wound her arms around his shoulder, pressing herself against him. Her lips found his and she was kissing him with all the aching grief that poured from her. He wanted to take it away, help her stop feeling her agony. He kissed her back, desperately, urgently, meeting her touch for touch. This was a kiss of anguish, a needing of each other on that one true level when two can only be as one. This kiss was the true melding of souls, of reaching out, of taking in, of answering a call so deep, so passionate that it bound them together.

He took her to the ground. There was no asking, for both took, needing the comfort that the other could only provide, the understanding of two of the same, the completing of two halves. Estelle fell back beneath him, tossing her wild hair so that it fanned around her head like a fiery halo. There was no concealing the look of need on her face, the way her lips opened and her eyes narrowed. She knew what she asked of him, and he could not refuse his firebrand devil-angel.

He positioned himself between her legs. The tip of his erection found her ready entrance and he pushed inside. She gasped, throwing her head backwards in exquisite agony. Fully sheathed, her heat seared. Her tense muscles surrounded his erection, wet and tight.

He withdrew to his tip and plunged into her honeyed sheath, the head finding the end of her womb. She groaned, called his name, clutched his shoulders, dug her fingernails into his skin, branding him as hers and he willingly let her.

He rocked against her, grinding his hips to hers, finding the internal top of her womb with every powerful plunge. Estelle rocked beneath him with each thrust, her breasts quivered as she moved, the nipples tightened into hard nubs. He took one between his teeth and flicked his tongue over the top.

She screamed, jerked and he took her breast fully into his mouth, sucking, tasting, pounding. She tensed, gasped, wound her legs around his hips, locking her ankles together, grinding herself around him.

He plunged into her once more and exploded. He ground his teeth, enjoying the exquisite, unbearable torture his own orgasm that seared through his body. He closed his eyes, riding out each shiver that coursed through his body. He sank boneless over her, nuzzling her hair, smelt their lovemaking mixed with her own perfume and accepted the post coital waves as it engulfed him in a light slumber.

Half asleep, he managed to roll to his side so as not to crush her with his large frame. He carefully removed himself from her, taking his arm from beneath her head and placed the blanket over her to keep her warm.

He quickly dressed and stoked the fire once more so that the flames supplied the heat to keep her warm against the morning chill. Gregory picked up with sword and sheathed it in his belt while he watched Estelle sleep.

This was not the way he would have planned, but it would be for the best.

He wouldn't have her hurt by Jack Cutlass again. If it meant that he would traipse through the island to the cave then so be it. Jack was on a mission to destroy not only her, but everything she had worked for and if Jack knew she still lived would come to kill her with all a dark vengeance. She would not be safe. Not if Jack knew she was alive, but here, in the safety of the runes, she would be.