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 mentioned that she’d then rule with the pirate capitaine. When Yellow Scarf and his crew had arrived, she’d torn off Adamo’s marriage collar and begged the invaders to murder Tristan for choosing Diana over her. Tristan, James, and the islanders had captured the pirates instead. Canela’s people banished her, Yellow Scarf, and his men to a distant isle where they would serve those people for life.
Children and adults chose their tables here.
Heath strode from the stone house, Tristan’s spirits in hand.
Relief flooded Aimee. Excitement and hard lust filled her too.
Netta padded to the closest table.
Aimee grabbed her hand and pulled her back.
“What are you doing?” Netta twisted her arm. “Let go.”
“In a moment.” Before they chose a table, they needed to know where Heath would sit. “I want to make certain we brought everything out that we should.” She made a show of glancing around.
Netta tapped her foot.
Heath placed the bottles on the table near Royce and sank to the empty bench opposite him.
Given Royce’s scowl, Aimee wasn’t convinced Heath would stay there long.
Royce eyed the brandy. “Some is missing.”
Heath smiled coolly. “Care to smell my breath?”
“Enough.” Simone elbowed Royce and frowned at Heath. “You two bicker worse than the youngest children. Try to get along.”
Royce wrinkled his nose. “With him? Never.”
She jabbed him again. “Have you forgotten how James wanted to shoot you when you brought the white devil here?”
“You mean Bishop.” Peter dragged his hair off his shoulders. Sun had bleached his dark locks and turned his skin golden. “Bloody swine. I haven’t forgotten what Royce did.”
“Nor have I.” James leaned across Gavra and Willy to glare at Royce. “You still deserve a good thrashing.”
He slumped. “I have apologized repeatedly.”
“As I have.” Heath drummed the table. “Unlike Royce, I didn’t know what Bishop had planned. I was an innocent bystander.”
Aimee pulled Netta to the bench. “I believe Heath. He meant no harm.” To hide Netta’s hand, she shoved her sister to his left.
Netta sprawled on the bench, her cloth falling away from her legs.
Heath stared at her thighs. His breathing picked up. “Allow me to help.”
She shrank back.
He lowered his hand. “Are you all right?”
Aimee answered, “She is.”
“I doubt that.” Royce pointed to a faraway table. “There’s room over there.”
Aimee
