Island Heat (A Sexy Time Travel Romance With a Twist) (15 page)

One hundred and seventy years Olivia had been here.

Four hundred and eighty-nine years for Salvador.
Four hundred and eighty-nine fucking years
.

I have waited lifetimes for you
, he’d said to me, and I’d brushed it off as the romantic musings of a lonely man. Now, it struck me with stark clarity.

I would be stuck here for all eternity, waiting for a rescue that would never come, stuck in a cave, afraid for my life because of the giant man-eating dinosaurs that existed just outside the cave walls.

The reality of it crashed around me. I buried my face in the furs and sobbed.

*** *** ***

I drifted in and out of consciousness, long enough to hear the occasional low conversation in Spanish. The sound of voices, and the realization that I had woken up in the exact same terrible spot, rather than waking up and realizing this was all a nightmare, caused me to burst into fresh tears, and I cried myself back to sleep.

At one point, Olivia woke me up with a rough shake, and I glanced up to see her looming over me, a bowl of hot soup cradled in rags to keep her hand safe from the overheated metal. “Wake up, Diana. You must eat something.”

I turned away from her with a jerk, burrowing under the blankets again. The sight of the conquistador helmet-turned-soup-bowl turned my stomach, reminding me of my situation yet again. “No, I don’t.”

“You must,” she insisted.

“Why? It’s not like I can die,” I said bitterly, and ignored her until she went away.

I was being a horrible baby and a martyr, I knew it, but I didn’t care. The thought of spending four hundred years stranded on a deserted island was enough to bring about a fresh onset of tears and despair, and in the end, I didn’t care what she thought of me.

*** *** ***

I don’t know how long I continued in this pattern, only that I woke up at one point, my belly pinched and hungry, and felt like I’d been wrecked. Figuratively, this time, instead of literally.

I sat up in bed, wondering why I’d woken up, when the curtain parted and Salvador entered, one of the trunks from the storage area of the cave tucked under his arm, the other holding the old lantern, lit with a tiny flame. The scent of coconut oil grew thick in the small room.

“May I enter?” His voice was soft, thick with his intriguing accent.

“Sure,” I said tonelessly. I wasn’t going to stop him; it was his room, after all.

He set the lamp down on the small corner stool and sat down across from me, on the far end of the bed, careful to give me my space. Salvador ran a hand along the wood, clearly cherishing it, and then turned and offered me the small trunk.

I pulled up my legs underneath me, straightening. “What is this?”

When I didn’t reach for the trunk, Salvador set it down between us. It was no bigger than a banker’s box, really, and the wood shone with age and care. “This is all I have left of my original ship,” he said. “I wanted to show it to you.”

All of a sudden, I didn’t want to see. I shied away from the thing like it was a nest of vipers. “No thank you,” I said.

Salvador didn’t move, only gestured at the chest. “Please, Diana. I would share it with you.”

Reluctantly, I undid the worn leather buckle that kept the trunk closed, and opened it, turning it to the side so we could both look into it.

The chest was almost empty. I don’t know if I’d expected it to be brimming with treasures like a pirate’s booty, but the few objects it contained must have been that much more precious to its owner.

I reached inside the chest and pulled out a large, flat leather book. The pages were rippled and thick with water damage, and I ran my fingers over the delicately embossed cover. There was writing on the front, in an unfamiliar script. “What does it say?”

“Captain’s log,” he replied.

A log book of his journey, then. “You were the captain?” I flipped open the book, letting the pages slide apart, and to my surprise, they were empty, all except the first few.

“I was not,” he said, a rueful smile touching his mouth. “I was but a poor soldier, no one of note. The captain was an officer of the royal navy, a far greater man than one such as me.” After a moment, he admitted, “I found out later that the captain could not read or write. Our written logs for the trip were not recorded, which made me very sad.”

I flipped to the front of the book and looked at the list there. Names scrawled across the lines of the page, in many different hands and many kinds of ink. Some were smeared across the page thanks to the water damage, but others were preserved. A few just had an ‘X’ in the spot, showing that they could not write their name.

“That is a listing of the soldiers on our ship, the
Joanna Reina
. Everyone signed their name just before the journey, so we would be paid after the voyage ended. I was promised a parcel of land once we had finished exploring the new world.”

The list of names were Spanish as well, and while I could not make out a great deal of the handwriting and the letters, I could distinguish a few names. Enrique de la Rocha. Juan Gabriel de Soto. Near the bottom, sandwiched between a few Xs lay a neatly lettered name in a handwriting breathtakingly familiar to the one on the wall.
Salvador Diego de la Cuerva
.

The year 1521 was written out to the side in the same ink. “I see your name,” I murmured, touching the page as if it might make me understand the strange world I found myself thrust into. A portion of the page flaked away under my fingertip, dissolving with age, and I held my breath and closed the book again, determined not to disturb it further.

Salvador said nothing, his green eyes watching me intently.

Next in the chest was a mariner’s compass, very old and beautiful. As soon as I pulled it out, I noticed that the needle still spun in slow, wobbling, endless circles. “I kept that with me for a long time,” Salvador said. “After we landed here, I had hopes that we might be rescued, or that we might build a raft and escape here.”

“We?” I asked.

He shook his head and gestured at the chest. “Please, continue.”

There was not much else in there. A pair of spurs prompted an interruption by Salvador. “We had a knight with us on board the ship, a very great man,” he said. “We were all jealous of him, and aspired to be like him. I found them washed up on shore, later, and kept them.” When I pulled out a rosary made of wood, he only smiled. Last in the chest was a small, oiled pouch. I touched it hesitantly, and glanced over at Salvador.

The expression on his face was pained, but he nodded at me. Curious, I opened the delicate pouch and pulled out the small object inside.

It was a painting, the edges covered with a hard metal framework. It was small – no more than the size of a postcard, and dark with age. The picture was of a young woman, smiling serenely for the picture, dressed in a pale pink gown. Her black hair cascaded over her back and she had lovely, bright eyes and pale skin.

“She’s very pretty,” I said, unsure what I was looking at.

“We were to be married when I returned from the expedition,” Salvador admitted. “She promised to wait for me to return, even though it would be at least two years before I came back. Her family was...better than mine, shall we say. They had an aristocratic background, and mine was nothing but poor farmers. They did not like that we were engaged, but Bianca was very headstrong.”

I sucked in a breath, studying the small portrait. A small stab of jealousy shot through me, and I stared at the smiling face of the young woman. “Do you think she waited for you?” My voice was small. I’d never given a thought to what Salvador might have had to leave behind.

He gave me a small smile. “I like to think that she did not. Bianca was very impetuous, but she was also not very patient. I told myself that she might have waited a few years, perhaps, if that long, and married a young man that would not have gone to sea chasing a soldier’s dreams.”

I thought of the helmets in the main part of the cave. “You were a conquistador.”

Salvador chuckled. “It was not a very romantic job, I am afraid. Most of my conquering involved fighting the rats in the hold of the ship for my share of the bread. It was a terrible thing.” He rocked backward, thinking. “I was never so hungry as I was on that ship, you know.”

Fascinated despite myself, I re-wrapped the small portrait in the oiled pouch and lay it gently back in the trunk. “How did you...you know. Get here?” I hated to use the term ‘crash’ because it seemed so...final.

He settled in, becoming more comfortable, and leaned over on the blankets. “We had just left Bermuda a few days earlier, when one of our masts snapped in a storm. It was not a main mast, but a smaller one, and even though we fell behind the other ships, within a few days of repairs, we thought we would be good as new. Our captain decided that we should continue on, and we fell behind the rest of Ponce De Leon’s ships. Not long after that, the waters became perfectly calm, and we floundered in the ocean for many days. The men began to talk witchcraft, but that is a silly thing. We were very far from land, and to turn back meant just as many days voyage, and failure. We wanted to be paid, so we continued on to the New World.”

“After a time, the winds returned, but they were not the regular winds that we were used to. They were very, very strong – like that of an immense storm, and I remember there was no rain, only a great deal of wind. The skies turned an odd, greenish color.” He grew thoughtful, staring up at the walls of the cave as he spoke. “I remember that we prayed a great deal, praying to God to deliver us to safety. I remember staying below-decks, because the ship was pitching about, and the men screaming that the astrolabe and compass were no longer working.”

He glanced over at me. “The next thing I remember, I was here on the shore of this island, with three other crewmen. We did not know what happened to the others.”

“Three other men?” I looked at him in surprise. “What happened to them?”

The lines of his mouth grew thin, grim. “We learned that this land is not an easy one, and that the monsters here like the taste of human flesh all too well. Before the end of the first day, two of the men had been eaten by the creature with the short arms and long teeth.” He made a gesture with his hands, imitating the stubby forearms of my least favorite dinosaur.

“The tyrannosaur,” I said.

“We called it the demon lizard,” he said, his smile grim. “Or at least, I did. The other man lived for a time, but he drowned.” Salvador shook his head. “We were here for many weeks and it got to him – he became crazy with the loneliness of the island and missed his family. One day, we were hunting and he dropped his spear and decided at that moment to swim out to sea. He thought that would be preferable to staying here, waiting for someone to come back for us. I watched him disappear into the ocean, and he never came back.”

What a sad story. Pity swelled in my heart for Salvador, and the hard times he’d had. All this time, alone, waiting for company, struggling to live on the harsh island. “But you stayed.”

A hint of a smile touched his mouth then. “It is not so bad. I have always been a solitary man,” he admitted. “So I was not too lonely at first. I counted the days on a stick, deciding I would simply wait for someone to come looking for the remains of our ship. Perhaps it would take a few months, perhaps longer, but they would not forget about us. We carried a great deal of riches on our ship, riches that De Leon intended to bribe the local natives with.”

“When the days turned into months, and the months turned into a year, I began to count here on this wall.” He gestured behind me. “The rest you know.”

“That is a horrible story,” I said vehemently.

He seemed surprised by my reaction. “Why is it so horrible?”

My hands curled into angry fists against my legs. “You’re stuck here! You can’t escape! The island is crawling with man-eating dinosaurs!” I threw my arms wide. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

Salvador shrugged. “Perhaps at first. But no life is without risk, is it not? If I had made it to my destination, perhaps I would have been killed by the savages of the New World. Perhaps I would have caught a sickness, or died of starvation. Even if I had made it back home, I would have been nothing but a gentleman farmer, dependent on the weather for my good fortune, and perhaps lovely Bianca would not have waited for me after all.” He glanced over at me. “So who is to say that this life is better or worse than another? It is different than what I would have thought for myself, but I cannot say I am unhappy. I am healthy, my companions are healthy. I have not aged one day since I came to this island, and remain as fit as I ever was. We have good things to eat here, it never snows. Yesterday, I kissed the most beautiful woman in the world all over her body. Life is good to me. No, I cannot complain about what God has seen to give me.”

I blushed at the hot look in his eyes and the reminder of what we had done so recently. “You only say I’m the most beautiful woman in the world because right now I’m the only woman in the world,” I grumbled.

He chuckled at my peevish words. “Just because you are the only woman does not make you any less beautiful, my
belleza
.”

“It’s just so...hard,” I said, my voice breaking again. I thought of Olivia, forever stuck in a child’s body. She had it the worst of all. I remembered the sad, longing looks she’d given Salvador, and wondered if he realized how much she loved him. It wasn’t sisterly by a long shot, but it couldn’t be anything as long as he thought of her as a child. “I liked my life,” I admitted, fighting back disappointed tears. “I don’t like this island. It scares me. I don’t want to live forever...especially not in the jungle. I miss everything. I miss my job, my car, my apartment.” My voice broke a little and I felt stupid. “I even miss my cat.”

“You have a cat in your house?”

I nodded, sniffling. “Just a small one. My friend is looking after her while I’m gone, at least. Poor Becky,” I said, thinking of my friend. “I don’t think she realized I’d be gone so long. She’s going to have to buy more cat food.” I gave a watery laugh at the absurd words coming out of my mouth.