Authors: Candice Proctor
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General, #Erotica
He stared down at the sandy, damp package in his hands, and such was his state of distraction that it took him a moment to understand what he held.
The
Lady Juliana's
charts and log.
Palm fronds and low tree branches slapped India in the face, whipped against her legs, but she kept running, her breath soughing in and out as the trail steepened, her hands scrabbling for purchase on twisted roots and rocky outcrops as her boots slid in the thick, rich humus. She was driven, desperate to make it up to the point for one last glimpse of the ship that was carrying Jack away from her.
Up and up she climbed, until the trail emptied out onto the grassy bluff and she felt the gusting force of the trade winds blowing cool and sweet against her sweat-streaked face. Out at sea, the wind kicked little whitecaps off the tops of the waves and filled the sunstruck, billowing sails of the
Barracuda
as the corvette heeled to port. India felt her steps slow, falter. At the tip of the point she stopped, one hand creeping up to hold back her windblown hair.
Her breath was coming hard and fast, her heart pounding fierce enough to shudder her chest. She felt overwhelmed by a sickening succession of unbearable possibilities: that she might never see Jack again, that he might somehow fail in his quest to clear his name and win his freedom. Or that, if free, he would turn away from her, because when he had needed her the most, all her old, suffocating fears had reared their heads and she had been unable to give him the reassurance he had sought.
She gasped, her arms wrapping around her waist, her chest aching as if a great rending tear had cleaved her heart in two and left her shattered and bleeding. And she knew then with sudden, awful clarity that she had made a terrible mistake, that she had allowed her fear of the unknown and the unknowable to stop her from reaching for what she really wanted. Because what she wanted was him, and she thought she had probably known it from that first moment when she had looked up to see him standing at the end of his dock, sun-bronzed and wild and free.
Oh, she had fought it, denied it, tried to escape it. But the reality of it, the inescapable rightness of it had been impressed upon her, over and over again. In these last weeks, they had faced a lifetime of dangers together, had known fear and joy and bitter defeat. She had learned she could trust him with her life, her heart, her soul. Only, she still hadn't learned to trust herself.
Out at sea, the trades were freshening, the corvette now only a flash of white in the distance, soon lost. Yet still India stood at the tip of the bluff, the tropical sun fierce on her bare head, a terrible weight of sadness and regret lying heavy on her heart.
Chapter Thirty-eight
He came to her early on a sunny afternoon, when the mango trees were in bloom, and the sea swelled gentle and achingly blue into the distance.
She had sailed over to an island in the Marquesas with Patu and Ulani, to investigate reports of stone statues and record examples of the local folklore. They'd been there almost a week when she discovered the existence of another collection of carvings, high on an open hillside above the deep, violet-blue bay where they had anchored the
Sea Hawk,
rescued from its watery grave and lovingly repaired and refitted by Patu.
She was sketching a giant statue of a turtle, her notebook balanced on one hip, her forehead knotted with the effort of getting the proportions right, when a movement on the hillside below caught her eye. She paused, her head lifting, her pencil stilling. So many times, over these past months, she had caught herself doing this, watching, waiting, hoping. She didn't want to let herself believe it might be him, but her heart was thumping, her breath coming suddenly so hard and fast that she was shaking.
A breeze gusted up, warm and sweet with the scents of the sea and the damp earth and a luxuriant tangle of green growing things. A lock of hair blew
into
her eyes and she brought up one hand to brush it back, the sun fierce and golden on her upturned face as she squinted into the distance.
It was a man, she saw. A tall man with a long, easy stride and dark hair that fluttered against the collar of the shirt he wore open at the neck. Her notebook slipped from her fingers. For a moment, she didn't think she could move. But then she was running, her hands fisting in her skirt, her knees kicking up high, her legs reaching, reaching.
"Jack,"
she cried, her heart soaring, bursting with joy and love, so much love. "Jack."
He paused, his head falling back as he looked up at her. Something flashed in his eyes, something bright and hot. He laughed, his arms opening wide to scoop her up as she flung herself at him, his embrace warm and strong, lifting her high, so high her feet left the ground and her momentum spun them both around and around. She braced her arms on his shoulders, her neck arching, her head falling back as her laughter joined his. Then his laugher died, the skin pulling taut across his cheekbones as he let her slide slowly down the length of him. Her feet touched the ground, and she found herself feeling suddenly shy, and more than a little afraid.
She reached up and slid her fingertips across his tightly held mouth. "You came back."
"I said I would." His eyes narrowed, his features tense as he searched her face. He took in a deep breath, his chest lifting as if he was bracing himself, steadying himself for something he didn't want to hear. "Do you still want me?"
She felt her lips tremble into a smile, although her heart was thumping wildly with the terror of what she was about to say, what she was about to do. "I have lived every hour of every day since you've been gone wanting you. I want to wake up in the middle of the night and watch you sleeping next to me. I want to have your babies, and spend the rest of my life laughing and fighting with you, and growing old with you. I want you like I have never wanted anything in my life. But—" Her voice cracked, so that she had to stop and swallow, hard. "But I'm still afraid. So afraid."
And then she felt a curious lightening, deep within her, as if by saying it out loud, she had somehow robbed that fear of its hold on her and made it, oddly, less terrorizing.
His features had softened, relaxed. "People are always afraid, India." He caught her hand in his and brought it to his lips, although his gaze never left hers. "I'm afraid. Afraid of not being the man you think I am, of not being the one man you can love, forever."
He was looking at her with all of his love naked in his eyes for her to see. She thought she had never known anyone so brave, so comfortable with his feelings for those he loved, so comfortable with himself. It came to her that he was everything she wanted to be, and more. And that forever wouldn't be enough time to get to know him, enough time to spend loving him.
"I love you," she said, trembling with the awful courage of what she was saying. "I love you so much it scares me." She laughed, and he laughed with her, catching her to him, his fingers spearing in her hair to hold her head steady, his eyes growing narrow and intense in that way they did just before he kissed her.
And she knew then that he was right, that fear was a part of life. And she thought that the
worst
fears were the ones that kept you from doing what you knew was right, or from seizing what you really, truly wanted.
"Marry me," she said suddenly.
He froze, his lips just inches from hers, his eyes flaring wide. "What?"
She laughed, buoyed up by a wave of joy and hope and contentment that seemed to wash over her, warm and good. "I said, marry me. Marry me at a Polynesian luau, or in a colonial courthouse, or on the deck of the next ship that passes by, but just... marry me."
Jack took her chin in his hand, his gaze locked with hers. "You don't need to marry me, India, if you're not comfortable with that. I'll understand."
"I know." She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close. "This is what I want."
He took her mouth in a kiss that was long and hot and went on forever. Then he lifted his head so he could look at her, and the smile in his eyes warmed her heart and healed her soul, and sent her spirits soaring wild and free.
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