LITMIR.BIZ

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Tristan. Speak to Heath. I know you want to.”

      “Not without you.”

      Netta joined Simone at the table. “Teach me what to do so I can help.”

      “With Diana?”

      “Other women too and the men. I can heal as you do. When Aimee’s time comes, I can keep her safe and present her husband with his new son.”

      Simone glanced at Aimee, her gaze questioning Netta’s sudden desire to heal.

      Netta had never shown interest before. Sickness frightened her. She, like the other islanders, had known too much death from pirates.

      “What of your infant when you have one?” Simone regarded Netta. “Do you intend to look after yourself during that time rather than have my help?”

      “For me, that time will never come. There will be no children or marriage to any man. Aiding others is all I ask. Make me a healer like you.”

      Aimee’s throat constricted. Simone had saved many but she couldn’t give Netta back what the pirates had taken from her. Heartsick, Aimee left the birthing room and stilled.

      Heath had remained with the other men.

      He looked at her.

      The world stopped and then spun too swiftly.

      Sun blanketed his broad shoulders and turned his bronze skin to gold. Light brown hair fell in soft waves to his shoulders. Stubble shadowed his face, intensifying his masculinity.

      She locked her knees. Her tightened nipples stung.

      Even next to Tristan and Royce, a capitaine and a man of noble birth, Heath stood out. Hard labor on ships had sculpted his powerful body. Tall and sinewy, he had large hands that could destroy anything or provide great pleasure.

      Instinctively, Aimee recognized his gentle nature and longed to see mischief and lust flare in his hazel eyes. For her to experience his protective embrace, heated skin, and breathtaking scent would be heaven.

      Netta should be here, seeking what every woman needed, a good man to comfort and cherish her. Wasn’t fair or right to deny herself. Nor would Aimee let it stand.

      Tonight, she’d change things for her sister, herself, and Heath. Somehow.

      Uncertainty and her inherent shyness ate at her. She pushed her unease aside and marched to Tristan to tell him what she’d learned about Diana.

      * * * *

      Simone pointed. “Tell me what this is.”

      Netta had no idea other than green leaves, similar to the others on the table. She hadn’t listened to Simone’s endless droning about plants that cured and flowers that saved lives. To Netta, blossoms made a woman smell good for a man. “Ah…”

      Diana shouted vile oaths.

      “You should go to her.” Netta gestured. “The pain seems worse. Her language certainly is.”

      “The infant gets closer to its new life. Nothing to worry about. Pay attention. This is the soothing plant.” Simone shook it. “After I crush the leaves, I mix their juice with the others I showed you so I can…”

      Tristan spoke loudly, the distance muting his exact words. James or Royce laughed. Others joined in. Perhaps Heath.

      Netta ached for his voice, the briefest touch. Madness. Wanting him would only frustrate and hurt. He belonged to Aimee, looked at her alone. The few times he’d glanced Netta’s way, she hadn’t the courage to remain and search his expression. He’d never crave her. Men wanted perfect females, especially if those women weren’t white like the English.

      Simone shook Netta’s arm.

      She pulled away. “What?”

      “I asked you about this plant.”

      “Is something wrong with its leaves? Should it have flowers?”

      “No. Tell me what it does.”

      “It stops blood or soothes pain?” Most seemed to do so even though they resembled each other.

      Simone dropped her head.

      “I can guess again. Does it cure rashes like Henri had before you treated him?”

      “Are you certain you want to learn this? You barely listen to what I say.”

      She’d focused too much on the courtyard, Aimee and Heath possibly leaving together for a private moment. Netta loved her sister more than life but she didn’t want to witness Heath embracing or kissing her. Their intimacy would wound too deep. “Forgive me. Can you repeat what you said?”

      “Later. The infant is coming.”

      Its head had crowned.

      Unneeded, Netta backed to the doorway.

      Children played boisterously, chickens clucked and squawked, feet shuffled, men grunted.

      Royce and Adamo hauled a long table across the courtyard. Other men did the same or hoisted plank seats. Near a stand of palms, James and Tristan spoke quietly. Tristan’s color had returned.

      Aimee must have convinced him all was well, yet she wasn’t around.

      Heath was.

      Unrelenting heat poured through Netta and curled deep within her belly. The folds between her legs dampened.

      He carried two seats, one on each shoulder, and barely puffed from the weight. Scars cut across his back.

      He’d known the same cruelness Tristan and Diana’s brother Peter once endured. The English had much to learn about kindness and decency toward others. Netta longed to stroke the horrible marks and bring Heath joy.

      He faced her. His eyes widened in recognition. Perhaps surprise or maybe revulsion.

      Shamed, she hid her hand as best she could and ran to the stone house.

      Chapter 2

      The setting sun streaked distant clouds orange, purple, gold, and rose. A mild breeze ruffled palm leaves and delivered wonderful scents: roasted beef, bacon, rice bread, bananas, pineapple, and other island fare for the celebratory feast.

      Aimee prayed tonight would turn out joyous for her and Netta. No one could find a better evening for love. She delivered grapes to a courtyard table.

      Netta placed a tray with sizzling fish next to the fruit.

      Men lit numerous torches. Musicians played their reeds, lutes, and drums. Younger children bounced in place to the tune. The older ones wove in and out of the adults, getting in everyone’s way.

      No one scolded. The goddess had created these moments to rejoice over a new life.

      Tristan, Diana, and their daughter Merry had yet to leave the birthing room. To Tristan’s delight, the infant had Diana’s dark hair and lovely violet eyes.

      Royce and Simone took seats at an empty table. Gavra sat to their side. James handed Willy over to her and settled close. Laure and Peter joined them. They barely stopped kissing to sit.

      Heath wasn’t about.

      Aimee hoped he hadn’t offered to keep watch for pirates or mariners who might approach the isle. If he did, she’d have to drag Netta to the point on the pretense of bringing him food. Hardly the romantic mood to strike.

      She stopped her friend Follie before she passed. “Who watches the shores tonight?”

      “Adamo. Zola went with him.”

      Of course. Zola adored her man and Adamo would willingly give up the festivities to prove his loyalty. Nearly a year ago, he’d betrayed his people for Canela who’d said she loved and wanted no one except him. All lies. She persuaded him to watch for pirates and direct them to these shores so the islanders could take back the land from Tristan. She hadn’t

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