Pearls of the Past Page 15

  “You think a piece of paper proves anything?” His words were said with resignation, but he offered no further details.

  Her stomach plummeted with disillusionment. There was someone else in his life!

  She was on the verge of telling him he was despicable, the way he had kissed her and encouraged her to forsake all the common sense she had been born with, when he added, “No one has prior claim on me.”

  She had been rescued from utter despair. And why this realization should shake her, Corrie found herself puzzling over.

  “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m getting tired of holding this chest. So if you’re still interested in it, could you please open my door?”

  Understanding nothing good would come of more discussion, Corrie continued ahead of him. She opened the door to his room, a room that reflected the colors of his cabin on the Lady B.

  He walked directly through the room to open folding louvre doors onto the wide, private balcony, placing the chest on a low cane table. “I’ll shower and change, and then we’ll have a cool drink before we start. Make yourself at home.”

  Make herself at home? Oh, how easy that would be. She was immediately drawn to the end of the balcony overlooking the wharves. Lady B was in full view, a man scrubbing the decks, and an island woman appeared carrying a bundle of white towels. Further on was Tern Island; the turquoise waters of the channel separating it from Endeavour Island held her meditative gaze, and she closed her eyes for long minutes. She didn’t want to think about leaving tomorrow, it had become too painful. Perhaps she should have eaten the fruit of the Wongai.

  “What are you thinking?” he softly inquired.

  “That I should have eaten the Wongai fruit to make sure I return. You once spoke to me of déjà vu.” Corrie, with a small dose of apprehension at what the results of the words she was about to utter would be, turned to see him dressed in shorts and a dark green polo shirt. “I have a confession to make, Britt. I did understand, but denying it made me feel safer from the already strange, unfathomable sensation that I somehow have an inherent tie with this island. Your island.”

  His eyes had become brilliant green, and when Britt’s hand tenderly touched hers Corrie withdrew. She knew there was more to be said right now and the opportunity would be lost if she succumbed to the wild rush of longing to be in his arms that flooded through her.

  “On the wharf when we first arrived on the island, a sudden wind held me frozen to the spot and there was a weird whistling in the air. No one else was aware of it as all remained normal. It happened again at the motel. The night I watched the sun set behind Edward Island with Victor, I knew as well as I know my own name that I had seen that brilliant phenomena before. Many times, right here, because I belonged.” Hugging herself, she gave a weak smile, waiting for his reaction, not knowing what it would be. He could very well laugh!

  He did. It was soft and one of triumph, then she was crushed to him, her name murmured over and over as he buried his face in her hair. “Oh, Corrie, I’ve been so desperate, thinking that you didn’t understand. I’ve contrived devious ways to keep you here with me, praying if you were given the time you would begin to understand this unaccountable feeling of having known you before. I want you to stay for my lifetime.”

  What was he saying? She just wanted to explain about the déjà vu that had touched them both. “I can’t stay here with you. Not for always,” she gasped.

  “You can.” His lips claimed hers, tenderly at first, then as her rigid body softened and her mouth gentled, she willingly gave him what he was asking for.

  Corrie was lost in a whirlpool of emotions all foreign to her. His sensuous lips gently adoring hers negated the shock of his actions, and she wanted more, wanted to give him pleasure, wanted him not to stop the magic he was weaving. Tentatively, she relaxed against him, her hands clutching his shirt. His arms tightened, and his mouth opened slightly, encouraging hers to respond.

  She could taste him as his warm breath entered her willing mouth. The tip of his insistent tongue delved beyond her lips, and Corrie gave a loud moan, second only to the one that left Britt as she opened her mouth wide under his, begging for it to be plundered.

  She wanted to dissolve into him, needing the sustenance he alone could give. It was denied her, and she moaned with annoyance as his moist mouth slid from hers to rest against the pulse under her ear, his breath ragged and uneven.

  “Corrie, darling.” His arms tightened even more. “You have to stay! I know we belong to each other, totally, forever.”

  Corrie was lost for words, not to mention coherent thoughts. This couldn’t be happening, not to her, vocal disbeliever of the quicksilver emotion of falling in love within days of meeting someone. She was hallucinating, but Britt’s arms and the taste of him still on her mouth negated that logical thought.

  With desperation, she reverted back to the words of wisdom she had given to Rusie...she had gone troppo! Why, she didn’t even like the man!

  No, that wasn’t right. Apparently she was falling in love with him, warts and all, arrogant, odious, obnoxious creature that he often was! The revelation hit her so suddenly it shocked her.

  She buried her face more tightly into his neck, the roughness of his jaw sensitizing the tender flesh of her cheek, not at all comfortable with the revelation of her feelings toward this Nordic giant but still needing the comfort his presence provided. She had to have time to come to terms with this other self she was confronting.

  Was this the same Corrie Nelson who only minutes ago was aghast at his sanctioning of Matt and Rusie sharing a room?

  “At least moan, if only with disgust at my ravings, to assure me you are still breathing.” His words were laced with self-recrimination.

  She eased away from his arms and immediately began to tremble like a leaf locked in the trade winds as reality caught up with her, one hand rising to her face. She felt herself being led forward and then lowered into a huge, saucer-like cane chair before he crouched before her.

  She reached up to cover her face, but he stopped her, gathering both her hands in his. “No, don’t.” He gave her a small smile. “I’ve frightened you.” His fingers squeezed reassuringly as Corrie went to speak, wanting to deny his claim. “I have, and that’s hardly the way one friend treats another.”

  She wanted to lean forward, to ease away the tiny furrow of concern between his thick eyebrows. To say it was her own emotions that frightened her. But she restrained the urge. Instead, she managed to say, with a slight tremor, “Not quite,” willing to take some of the blame because of the abandoned response she had given.

  His hand tightened even more. “Forgive me?”

  She nodded; how could she disagree?

  “I’ve told you before, you are much too forgiving, and if by asking you the next question, which I admit has come somewhat belatedly, you become annoyed, I’ll have to take that risk.” For a moment he paused, his intent eyes revealing unease. “Surely a lady as lovely as you has a special someone waiting at home?”

  She tried to draw her hands free but failed, but his golden hands completely engulfed hers, which looked so intrinsically right. Uneasiness rose in her again, culminating in a need to exert some quality of willpower.

  “Do you think, if I did have someone, I would kiss you the way I just did?” She wanted to moan with distress at her words for they had come out all wrong. She had wanted to convey she felt insulted. Now he would think she had been a willing participant, which truthfully, she had been. Guilty heat invaded her cheeks, and she wrenched her head sideways. Suddenly, her hands were free and Britt rose to his feet.

  “I’ll get that cool drink I promised you earlier. Then we had better start on delving into my ancestors’ shady past.”

  Corrie looked up quickly as a finger of apprehension slid down her spine at Britt’s words. “You really don’t think they have, do you?”

  “What, a shady past? Bound to. Most families have at least one skeleton in the cupboard.” He
chuckled as he turned away.

  “No!” Her one vehement word stopped him. “Britt, for some reason I don’t understand, I feel we shouldn’t joke about this.” She sprung to her feet in agitation. A shiver rent her whole body. “I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I? Tell me I am.” She needed his reassurance so desperately.

  Britt was beside her in an instant. “You really do feel something?”

  “Something ominous? Yes. I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. And after our separate déjà vu experiences, both connected in some way to this island...” Corrie’s words trailed off. She wasn’t quite sure what else to say.

  “Well, the only way to lay these ghosts to rest is to open this minefield.”

  Both looked to where the chest rested on the cane table. It was black with brass bindings. Smaller versions of its kind were often found in interior decorator shops. It appeared quite innocuous with no signs of ill-use, except for the oversized, battered padlock that secured the curved lid. But the size of the lock seemed more than significant to Corrie’s heightened sensitivity.

  The message was: forbidden! But the huge key hanging from it was an insidious temptation, beckoning the unwary.

  Corrie’s hand tentatively touched Britt’s arm, her words strained and soft, “Should you?”

  His eyes burned down into hers. “Not if you don’t want me to. Just say the word, and I’ll bury it at sea next time the Lady B sails.”

  “You would do that?”

  “For you, yes. I care about you, Corrie, want to protect you, and if opening this upsets you, then out it goes.”

  “Why haven’t you ever opened it before? You did say you haven’t.”

  Britt looked back at the chest for long minutes. “I was never interested enough. No need to. I was too busy with my present, narrow world, selfishly ignoring the blood, sweat, and tears my ancestors gave so I could inherit what I have today. All nicely legal, nothing dishonorable to be answered to.”

  Corrie felt another apprehensive shiver creep down her spine. Dishonorable! He really didn’t believe there was something sinister in the past they were intruding into, did he?

  Britt slowly lowered himself down into the Papa-San cane chair, his chin cupped in his linked hands as his elbows rested on his knees, his gaze still on the chest. “I’ve had no right taking all this for granted without one question of where or how it came to exist. It’s my past, and I’m part of that. Everyone is an individual? Well, that theory is fine as far as it goes. But what has come before has shaped our lives, our world of today, and I have denied that fact. So, it’s about time I had enough backbone to face the music. Whatever it may be.”

  Corrie knelt quickly beside him, concerned at the depth of feeling his words held.

  Britt turned his head then lowered his lips to touch her forehead before giving a soft quaff of laughter. “Surprised, Corrie? So am I, labeling myself selfish. Maybe I have some redeeming qualities after all.”

  “Did your father never speak to you of the past?”

  “My grandfather did. Vague stories of the war. How the island was given a day’s notice to be evacuated, and Gran went to live in the Blue Mountains behind Sydney with relatives. How half the fleet of our pearling company had been destroyed by Japanese bombers. But they never bombed Endeavour Island because of the belief that one of their princesses was buried here, and because of the hundreds of graves here of Japanese pearl divers who were victims of the dreaded ‘bends’. They continually bombed Tern Island because of the Aussie and American planes stationed there. Apparently, my grandfather was a coastwatcher in the Torres Strait.”

  Corrie’s mind was whirling with Britt’s barrage of information. It was hard to believe this beautiful island, her beautiful island, had played such a dramatic role in being part of the Allied frontline. Her Da had never spoken of those years in the stories she had been privileged to hear. Where had he been then? Was it here? Was he also one of those brave coastwatchers?

  “All these facts were great adventure stories to me. Of course I knew how the mother-of-pearl industry fared with the introduction of the plastic button, but apparently we were ready, and the cultured pearl industry took its place within Arafura Enterprises. My grandfather was an expert technician in seeding the pearls and passed that expertise on to my Da, and he to me. And that brings me to the point I have something to show you.”

  He stood up and, bending, lifted her up from where she knelt to place her in the chair he vacated before he walked away. Corrie looked at the black chest.

  There were so many questions to be answered, and how many of those answers would be found within arm’s reach? Again, a finger of apprehension feathered her spine. Or had it turned into veiled excitement now that facts about those distant years were to be exposed?

  “For you.” Standing beside her, Britt handed her a small silver covered box. Corrie’s questioning gaze flew up to meet his smiling, sea-green eyes. “At least look at it before you pass judgment, please?”

  Her fingers tentatively lifted the lid. What Corrie found herself looking down at made her breath catch. Her face slowly lifted, and Britt quickly came to crouch in front of her.

  “Please don’t be annoyed,” he said, his words laced with panic. “I saw it in Cairns, and it practically shouted to me for Corrie.”

  “For me?” she said in wonderment. She gently lifted the exquisitely fashioned crystal oyster, which was no larger than a plum. At the base of the two halves nestled a small rich cream, perfect pearl. Tenderly cupped in the palm of one hand, she extended her other to touch the back of his clenched hand as he waited on her judgment. “It’s exquisite. So lovely.”

  His hand turned to enfold hers. “Corrie,” he said, her name a tortured whisper. “Like I said, I saw it and it was you, definitely exquisite. And tell me if I’m wrong, but had I given it to you when I arrived home from Cairns, you undoubtedly would have thrown it at me. You’re not going to do that now, are you?”

  A grin tugged at his mouth, and Corrie, unable to say what possessed her to do so, knowing what would follow, leaned forward and placed her softly parted lips on his.

  Chapter 12

  Britt’s long denied need exploded. Previous thoughts of control forgotten, his possession was total. Gentle yet dominant, taking completely, but giving, devouring her with his mouth, his hands, his body, as he lowered her to the Indian cotton rug. His hand took the crystal oyster from her clenched fingers.

  “We’ll put this over here, shall we?” He placed the crystal on the coffee table. “Then you can push your fingers into my hair, drive me totally wild. Crucify me.”

  His last words groaned into her willing mouth with Corrie’s moan of supplication entering his. Britt rolled on his side, molding her slim curves to his body, one leg curving to entwine her long, shapely legs with his. One hand traced the smooth, soft skin from mid-calf up her molded thigh and under the navy linen of her shorts until his fingers caressed the swell of her firm bottom.

  “I knew...I knew you would feel like this. The moment I laid eyes on you I knew. My body knew we would fit like this. Your soft mounds filling my hardness, making me whole. My exquisite Corrie, I need you.”

  There was no reason to deny this fulfillment...for them both. Her eyes closed as she arched her body more firmly against him, and immediately she was under him, making her silver-gray eyes fly open. He looked down at her, his eyes studying her thoughtfully.

  “You have the most beautiful sea-green eyes, Mr. Hendricks.”

  “My darling Corrie, that’s the only time I’ve loved you calling me Mr. Hendricks.” His mouth took hers in a hot exploration, and in a response, quite astounding, Corrie joined him, wildly. Her tongue danced in and out of his mouth while her fingers discovered the shape and depth of the muscles either side of his spine.

  Time literally stood still until a sob of frustration suddenly left Corrie. Her legs desperately fought to untangle themselves, and Britt eased away slightly, and when she opened her legs to offer a cradl
e for his thrusting hips he filled them willingly.

  “Why didn’t this happen this afternoon. Why in God’s name did I ask the others to come?” he groaned as he buried his face in the curve of her neck. “And now...”

  His body stilled. He levered himself away from covering her. Corrie attempted to follow him, but he gently put her aside as he got to his feet.

  * * * *

  Corrie was unable to contain the whimper of disappointment and thrust herself up on her elbows to glare accusingly at him.

  He was the Nordic god again. The casual, canvas shorts he wore strained across his hips, revealing his muscled legs, slightly apart, taut with masculine virility. The dark green of his shirt showed off the bronze color of the skin of his throat and face, emphasizing the emerald glitter of condemnation behind his thick, curling lashes. Yet her femininity responded.

  “Do you want me to take you here?” he lashed at her. “Of course you don’t! What are you playing at? Setting the scene to prove without a doubt I’m the obnoxious beast you labeled me? Playing the temptress again? I’ll lock the bedroom door. Will you come to me then, knowing Russella is just next door?”

  “Yes.”

  “You won’t, because I won’t let you! I’m sure as hell not taking you like some one-night stand.”

  “That’s precisely the impression you have given from the moment I arrived. I may not have the experience you’re used to, but I’m certainly not that naïve!”

  He stooped and Corrie found herself pulled up into his arms, her face covered with passionate kisses. “I want you to be my wife. To adore you. To cherish you. I’m going demented, a raving fool with need. You’ve got to marry me, Corrie.”

  The tall body she was clinging to was shaking as if attacked by a cyclonic wind, his heart pounding like a jackhammer against her cheek, and she loved him with all the love possible.