Island Heat (A Sexy Time Travel Romance With a Twist) (11 page)

Her face hardened. “They treat me like I’m a child.” She stood and extended one hand for my empty bowl. “We’ll clean up here, get Harold settled, and then we’ll find some proper clothing for you.”

I handed her my bowl and watched as she bustled around the small cave, rinsing out the bowls, giving the remainder of the stew a good stir, and then heading over to one of the nooks and waking the elderly Harold. Watching her, one could easily see how she would resent being thought of as a child, when she was clearly the one running the house here.

Harold stumbled over to the fire with Olivia’s help, his arms shaking with frailty, and I felt immediately sorry for him. He needed a doctor – his face was drawn and thin, and covered with myriad wrinkles under the white puff of beard. I wondered how old he was, and how long he’d been here. “Did you all come from the same wreck?” I asked. “The same plane?”

Harold shook his head at me and smiled, showing a few crooked, yellow teeth. “A shipwreck for me, mistress. All three of us came from ships.” His voice rattled in his throat so much that I was afraid he’d gasp his last breath at the end of every sentence.

“Oh,” I said, and watched as Olivia fed Harold.

“We’re going to find some clothing for Diana,” she said, patting the old man on his shoulder and fussing over him like a daughter. “We’ll be back shortly. Stay here and tend the fire for us?”

At Harold’s nod, Olivia rose in an elegant gesture, and inclined her head. “If you’ll follow me, please?”

I smiled at the queenly motion, feeling the absurd urge to curtsy.

Olivia led me to a small storage nook in the back of the cave, and to my surprise, there was a treasure-trove of things stuffed in there. “Most of the things we’ve found washed up on the beach from wrecks such as your own,” she explained, digging through a series of crates and pulling items out. “Some of it we can’t use, but don’t have the heart to throw away. Some of it we can’t make out. So we keep it all.” She glanced back at me. “We have an agreement with the cavemen – because they used to fight us over what washed up – that everything on the north beach is ours, and the south beach is theirs. That is why they were so upset that Salvador took you – he took you from their territory.”

“But I’m a person,” I protested. “You can’t own someone.”

“Of course you can,” she said easily. “On this island, people are possessions just as surely as anything else, and women are a valuable commodity. If you can’t protect yourself, you’re better off under someone else’s protection.” She turned back to give me a wistful look, her arms full of faded fabric. “You’re lucky that Salvador wants you. He’s the strongest man on the island.”

I eyed the trunks as she shoved past me with the armful of fabric. “I don’t suppose there’s a radio shoved away somewhere in here?” I wanted to stay and look at things. I picked up a small compass and frowned down at it as the needle spun in circles on its own. Well, that wouldn’t do me much good. I walked past a massive sword, still in its scabbard, and peeked at another pile of discarded things. There had to be something useful in the storage room. “Maybe a transistor of sorts?”

“A what?” she called back mildly to me. “Come out here to the light and pick out something.”

“Never mind,” I said under my breath, making a mental note to go and dig through everything later. Another day wouldn’t hurt anything.

Olivia began to spread the clothing out near the front of the cave – where the sunlight was brightest – and I watched as she picked through them with gentle hands. “I would only pick out one or two things,” she said. “We can use those until they wear out, and then once they’re completely done-for, we can go back for something else.” She glanced over at me. “It’s stingy, I know, but we have to make things last.”

“That’s fine,” I said, not wanting to bother her about it. I didn’t care as long as it was clean.

She gestured to a pretty, lacy dress with a high collar and long, tight sleeves. “Something like this would be acceptable, perhaps.”

I eyed it with distaste. “Won’t that be hot?”

Olivia shrugged. “A lady must be modest or she incites men to think bad things about her.” She gave me a pointed look.

Geez, that wasn’t obvious of her at all. I ignored her little comment and dug through the clothing a bit longer. I found a coral-colored blouse of sorts that had one sleeve ripped off – I ripped the other off to make it match, despite Olivia’s horrified look. It went nearly perfect with a long, flowing skirt of white. “This’ll do for me for starters.”

Olivia gave me a traumatized look. “That is a petticoat. You have to wear something over it.”

I frowned at her. “It’s too hot to wear something over it, though I wouldn’t mind something under it.” I gestured at the clothing, noticing the sad lack of undergarments. “No bras or underwear or even a clean swimsuit?”

She shook her head, mystified at me, and I sighed. Well, at least most of the men were gone and I could go around loosey-goosey until my bikini was clean and dried. “I’ll go change, then.”

I used Salvador’s room as a dressing-room and when I emerged, dressed in my new clothing, I felt like a different person. My grimy swimsuit was huddled into a ball in my hand, and the new clothes felt wonderfully clean against my skin, even if I felt every bit as scandalous as the looks that Olivia was giving me. My breasts swayed under the thin fabric of the blouse, and I hoped nobody could see through my dang skirt. “Is this better?”

“I suppose,” Olivia said dubiously.

I glanced over at Harold and watched him as he took another slow bite of soup, staring into the fire. I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. It felt odd to not be on the run for the first time in days, and I moved to sit back down on the stool I’d claimed as my own. Olivia washed the helmets as they were emptied, and placed them back on the stone nook on the wall. There were three of them, I noticed, and one rudely carved wooden bowl. I drank a cup of water (made out of a half-coconut) as I watched her sit down by the fire and used a carved wooden needle to sew shut a hole in a ragged looking garment that I would have normally thrown away. I noticed her own equally ragged clothing, and felt a bit humbled as I sat there in my new, clean clothing while she wore rags.

And then I thought of Salvador’s loincloth and blushed. He didn’t even bother with the clothing.

The comfortable silence went on for some time. Olivia mended, Harold ate quietly, his hands shaking with every lift of the spoon, and I sat and watched the fire and drowsed, thinking about my journey here. I thought about the wreckage, the half-eaten pilot on the beach. I even thought about the footsteps in the sand and wondered why that image still bothered me.

When the sun was high in the sky, Olivia got up to roll the palm-covering back over the cave, setting everything into cool shade and shielding us from the heat of the day. Harold wasn’t much of a talker; he headed back to his small cave and slept the afternoon away, and Olivia continued her mending. I noticed she was piecing the rags together to make a crude blanket of sorts.

I was surprised when a sound came from the lip of the cave, and I stood up in anticipation. Salvador climbed up the rope ladder, tossing a few small animal carcasses down on the ledge.

“Welcome back,” Olivia cried out, rushing over to him. “Is Eustace with you?” She looked eagerly over the edge of the ledge and I watched her mobile face fall a little when she did not see him.

“He will be back eventually, Olivia. Do not worry for him.” Salvador reached over and tousled the girl’s head, and I watched the adoring look she gave him.

She had a crush on the man, that was obvious. Not that I blamed her. Hell, I had a bit of a crush on him myself, and it wasn’t at all girlish. It was a dirty, nasty, flustered sort of crush that involved lots of daydreamed sex.

He glanced around the cave, looking for someone in particular, and when his gaze slid to me, he stopped, and I watched as his eyes roamed over my newly-covered form possessively. My nipples hardened at the look on his face, and I crossed my arms over my chest, hoping he wouldn’t notice them poking through the thin fabric. “Hello Salvador,” I said, forcing my voice to be cool and nonchalant.

He strode over to me and I bristled, wondering if he was going to toss me over his shoulder again and drag me to his room. I hated how my body flushed with desire at the thought, too. I took a step backward as he approached, then paused, mindful of the fire and my flowing skirt. To my surprise, he reached out and gently touched my face, the edge of my cheek where it still stung at the slightest touch and felt puffy. “How are you feeling?”

Just those simple, softly accented words were enough to make my knees liquefy. I pulled away from his hand, noticing that his own eye was puffed up and swollen from where Eustace had gotten him good. “I’m fine. Your eye...”

He shrugged. “It is well enough.” His hand slid from my face to my bare arm.

Olivia stood behind us, and cleared her throat, and when I looked over, she clutched the brace of rabbit-looking creatures in her arms like they were the only thing saving her from flinging herself bodily over the cliff. “I’ll start on dinner while we wait for Eustace to return.” She hurried to the far end of the cave and I could hear her rummaging in the small trunk that they kept the wooden utensils in.

“Eustace is coming back?” I glanced over at the bronzed Spaniard.

Salvador gave me a meaningful look. “Eventually. She is merely hoping that he will return soon. I do not think he will return for weeks, if that.”

“Will he be all right?”

Salvador grunted. “He will survive.”

I felt guilty that he was gone, and it was my fault. Poor Olivia. “Maybe I should help her with dinner,” I said, feeling uncomfortable to be standing so close to him. I glanced over to where Olivia stood, and watched as she used the knife to behead the kills. I heard the soft crunch of bones and winced, swallowing the revulsion.

He chuckled at the expression on my face. “I take it that you do not work in the kitchens, where you are from?”

I wrinkled my nose with distaste. “Not hardly. I’m a realtor.”

He slid an easy hand around my waist. “Shall we help her with dinner in another way? Perhaps to go and retrieve some fruits?”

The funny, slightly stilted English had a way of endearing him to me, and I found myself smiling up at him. “Sure, we can go get some fruits.”

Salvador called out something to Olivia in Spanish, and I watched as her face fell slightly, but she nodded. We headed to the rope ladder, and Salvador went down first. “To guard for you,” he explained. It was fine with me, and I watched his easy motions as he went down the ladder first, and then I followed.

My muscles protested in weariness as I went down the ladder, reminding me that I was not nearly in as good a shape as even slight Olivia. Still, I managed my way down – slowly – and we headed into the jungle. There was a dirt path near the cave, and Salvador led the way, and I followed close behind him. He was nearly silent as he moved through the underbrush; I, unfortunately, was noisy and stepped on just about everything in creation.

When I landed on a hard twig, it jabbed my foot. I cursed at the pain that shot through me, and Salvador turned in my direction. “Your feet? They are still tender?”

The way his lips caressed the word ‘tender’ made me blush in the late evening sky. “I’m fine,” I said. “Just not used to running around without shoes on. It’ll take me a bit to toughen up.” At his speculative look, I decided to change the topic before he wanted to get up close and personal with my feet and check for himself. “Are we close?”

“Here is fine,” he said, gesturing to the bushes. “Let me show you.”

I crept forward, and with his body leaning all too close to mine, he showed me how to brush aside the odd leaves of the short, squat plant and look for the small green fruit nestled at the base of each stem. I leaned over and plucked the one in reach. “How many do we need?” I glanced over at him.

His lips were perilously close to my ear, and judging by the fascinated look on his face, he hadn’t been paying much attention to the fruit. “How many do you think you will eat,
encantadora
?”

I felt flushed and hot at the intense look on his face. “Will you think me a pig if I say twenty?”

He chuckled. “If you eat twenty, I will indeed be surprised.”

“Prepare to be astonished, then,” I said dryly. “I’ve been so hungry lately I could eat my own shirt.”

His hands slid around my waist, feeling the soft, ticklish skin and sending abrupt shivers through my body. “The material is thin,
belleza
, and would not make much of a meal.” I felt his hands snake around me, pulling me closer to his hot, hard body. His fingertips brushed the undersides of my breasts, so close to my nipples that they hardened instantly, and the familiar ache started between my thighs. His breath lingered, hot and seductive on my throat. “And then what would you wear?”

I groaned, leaning back against his body and letting the sensations sweep over me. “Don’t touch me,” I said, feeling like a sham even as the words slipped out of my mouth, because I pressed up against his hard body and lifted my arm to twine my fingers in his hair.

“How can I see your beautiful body and not want to touch it?” His hands slid lower, grasping my hips through the thin material and sliding them against the hardness that strained against his loincloth. “How can you dance before me and not allow me to touch you?”

I whimpered against him, arching my neck when his lips pressed against my skin. His hands slid up to cup my breasts, loose and straining in the thin shirt, and I felt him groan against me. “
Belleza
, Diana,” he whispered. “Tell me you want this too.”

His fingertips brushed against my nipples and shockwaves floated through my body, rippling outward and making my toes curl. The fruit dropped to the forest floor and I panted as he pressed his body against mine, erection straining against my buttocks. The man felt like a dream.

Abruptly, the image of us in the waterfall filtered through my mind, and I remembered how quick he’d been to leave me then. Back when he’d been pretending not to speak English, rather than whispering sultry Spanish platitudes in my ear.