Page 62 of Forbidden Desire

Glancing at the door, I closed my pack and threw it over my shoulder. I wasn’t Desiree, and my fate wouldn’t be hindered by procrastination and indecision. I was getting away from these oddly intoxicating men, and I was taking my sister with me.

Nudging the wooden door open, I looked around, conscious I didn’t have a single ally in the village. If anyone spotted me lurking on my own, they would raise the alarm and send me back to the arms of the goliath who’d somehow mesmerized me. That wasn’t happening.

Stepping into the cold morning air, my heart was beating so fast, I feared it might jump into my throat, but I ignored its rampant fright. Panicking wouldn’t serve me. Closing Jeemie’s door behind me, I edged along the side of the buildings, searching for anything familiar. Desiree would be holed up with the moron in charge of this lunacy, and as their self-proclaimed leader, he would likely have the most impressive lodgings. My gaze skimmed the deserted place, looking for the most likely candidate. If I could find it and get inside, I still had a chance of fulfilling my mission and saving Des—

My thoughts scattered at the approaching male voices, my pulse soaring at the noise of heavy boots on the hard floor. Glancing left, I identified the culprits. Ducking down and inching around the side of one small hut, I watched them pass.

Eyeing the men, I was once again floored by their sheer size. They must both have been more than six and a half feet, their bodies sporting as much brawn as Jeemie’s. My breath increased at the unwelcome memory as I strained to hear their conversation.

“That hu a ‘ciallachadh gu—”

“Alban.” The larger of the two cut him off with one raised palm. As I stared, I realized it was Rasmie—the one who thought he could keep my sister. “In English, please. We have spoken about this.”

“So, I am forced to use this foreign tongue to impress your new wife?” The other guy’s voice dripped with disdain.

“You will do as you are asked with respect and reverence.” Rasmie’s tone was hard. “I accept the life of the third brother is vastly different from that of the first, but I will never accept insolence.”

“Yes, Maighstir.” The man with the reddish-brown hair bowed theatrically, his response sardonic.

“What query brings you to my door so early, Alban?” It was obvious Rasmie was unimpressed. “There is much to do, and I intend to get back to my bride before she rouses.”

Gasping, I acknowledged what should have been obvious from the start. If Rasmie was here, then Desiree was somewhere on her own. It was the perfect chance to get to her and make a run for the boat before the entire place came to life.

Glancing past the arguing men, I saw a building close to the hall I’d been taken from last night. It was discernibly larger than the others, and a lone man stood on guard outside. Brows knitting, I considered how best to get past him, concluding it would be simple enough to create some type of diversion and slip inside. The ground was littered with rocks and stones of various sizes. Presumably, if I hurtled enough of them in the right direction, I could pique his interest and draw him away from the entrance long enough to get inside. Once I was in there, I wouldn’t have much time, but my instincts told me the plan was sound. That had to be where my sister was being kept, and now I had a plausible scheme to escape.

Leaving Rasmie and Alban to their discussion, I crept around the back of the nearest building and headed toward my new destination. Each onward step hardened my resolve, convincing me I was on the right track, and by the time I approached from the back of the hut, I was exhilarated. If someone stopped me, I could always honestly answer that I was looking for Desiree, but if—as I hoped—no one noticed my advance, she and I could be back to the boat in a matter of hours.

Excitement furled in my belly, bubbling to my chest. This was what I’d come for—I was taking Desiree home!

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Desiree

THE FIRST THING WAS the noise, an odd sound every few seconds as if stones were being hurtled outside. Brow furrowing, my eyes flitted open, suddenly conscious it was morning. The next thing was the empty space beside me. Where was Rasmie, and why would he have left so early without rousing me?

I startled as the noise rang out again. It was coming from beyond the bedchamber but was still loud enough to disturb me. Sliding out of the covers, I realized, for once, the leather collar was not on my neck. I reached for my fur and wrapped it around me, needing to use the facilities. Normally, I had to ask my master for approval to go, but if Rasmie wasn’t going to be here when I woke, there wasn’t much he could do about it. The ground was cool as I raced to the small water closet and colder still once inside.

Perching on the edge of the seat, I relieved myself, my mind racing through everything that had transpired in the time I’d been on the island. It was difficult to place precisely how long that had been, but under the guidance of Rasmie, I had watched the stages of the moon and knew it was at least a month.

A month? The thought jarred as I reached down between my legs. If I had been here for that long, I was surely due a period? My cycle had always been like clockwork, never missing a bleed nor even a day or two delayed. One had finished before I arrived with my now ex-friend, Charlie, but there had been nothing since. My pulse sped up. There had been nothing since. After all the attempts Rasmie had made at getting me pregnant, there could only be one rational explanation for the delay—his plan had succeeded, and in some odd twist of fate, I’d conceived.

My hand slid to my belly as I tried to decide how I felt about the development. He would be beyond thrilled, but I hadn’t asked for this honor and had rarely even contemplated motherhood before I arrived. I couldn’t deny so many hours with my new lover had softened me to the idea, though. Rasmie had been good to me, bestowing pleasure, protection, and a lot more besides, but he had also been a swine, taking me over his knee and humiliating me in front of his men.

Because you enjoy it, the malicious little voice in my head whispered. He does it because it turns you on as much as him.

Lifting my chin, I dismissed her unpleasant rambling. It was of little consequence why he did it. Rasmie did whatever he wanted—a luxury he rarely afforded me—but the point was, he did it, and if I was pregnant, the baby would be another piece of the puzzle to reconcile. Could I stay with a man who treated me that way, even if I relished it? Could I raise a child with him in this strange barren place? And what of Charlie and now Elodie, who had unexpectedly landed after me? What life did I condemn them to if I remained here with him and bore his children?

The summit of every riddle only led me to the footstool of my next problem. I shivered lightly at the analogy, recalling the way Rasmie liked to use me as his footstool. Christ, I couldn’t reconcile my warped responses to the man, let alone consider him for fatherhood, but if I was pregnant, could I really take that away from him? He’d already grieved for his first wife and unborn child. I wasn’t sure he’d survive a second loss.

“Des?”

I straightened at her voice, knowing at once it was my sister. No other woman on this island would ever refer to me that way.

“El?” Leaving the water closet, I found her at the foot of the bed Rasmie and I shared. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come for you.” Her tone was resolute. “We’re getting away.”

“What?” My head ached with the weight of my competing needs—how to be loyal to my sister without tearing Rasmie into pieces and how to be free while potentially carrying his baby. Were these paradoxes reconcilable?