Roarke's Kingdom

“I’m an idiot! I’ve walked you too far. Wait here. I’ll go back and get the Jeep.”

“No,” she said quickly. “No, I’m fine. I just—I guess I was thinking about the jaguar. The one the island’s named after.” She looked up at him and smiled. “Tell me more about voodoo. Do the islanders still practice it?”

“Yes. There’s a plateau on the west shore, overlooking the sea—I’ve seen the glow of the bonfires there a few times. In fact, I’ve been invited to attend the ceremonies.”

“And have you?”

“No, not yet.” He smiled. “Why? Would you like to watch?”

She tilted her head back and looked at him. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “Although—yes. I think it would be fascinating.”

“Well, then, the next time I’m invited, I’ll accept for the both of us. How does that sound?”

A delighted smile curved across her mouth. “It sounds wonderful! Are you sure they won’t mind if I—oh!” Her face fell. “Thank you for asking me. But I’ll be leaving the day after tomorrow.”

Roarke held back the heavy branches of the rhododendron as they entered the garden.

“The day after tomorrow,” he murmured. “That’s right. I almost forgot.”

She had forgotten too.

The day after tomorrow. How could that be? It seemed impossible to think of seeing San Juan again, with its crowded streets and hotels, and the thought of Chicago, lying buried beneath the snow, was even more foreign. She would be there, a million miles away. And Roarke—Roarke would be here; she would never see him again, she would—

“Jennifer.” Roarke stopped walking and turned toward her. “Are you happy here?”

All around them, thousands of tiny lights hidden in the branches of the trees blinked to life, as pale as the moon rising overhead.

She looked up at him. She knew it would be best to lie. To tell him she couldn’t wait to return to what she increasingly thought of as the real world.

But she couldn’t lie.

Not when his hands cupped her shoulders. Not when his eyes were filled with questions.

“Yes,” she said softly. “I’m very happy here.”

“You don’t think the island is a prison?”

“A prison? No! Why would you even ask me such a…” A flush rose in her cheeks. “Juan told you what I said about the parakeets. But that was before I really knew you.”

“And you thought, ‘Aha, here’s a rich man, playing at being God.’” He nodded. “Well, in a way, you were right.”

“Roarke—”

“The birds are from a species that lives in a rainforest that borders Brazil. A friend—a guy I went to school with—did his doctoral thesis on the flock. He knew they were doomed—that between the burning of the rainforest and human encroachment their population had dropped from—”

“You mean, you had them brought here to save them?”

He smiled thinly. “I’m not a complete altruist. I brought them here because it was good for both of us, the flock and me. It saved them, and it gave me pleasure. Do you understand?”

Yes, she thought, she did. He was telling her that he was a man who took what he wanted, if it suited him, and that he did not always do things for reasons that were immediately clear.

But she knew that already. His complexity had frightened her at first; perhaps it still did. He could be moody and removed one moment, charming and warm the next. He could be demanding, almost arrogant in his single-mindedness. But he was always exciting, always filled with life…

“Jennifer. You really do like it here, don’t you?”

“Yes. Very much. Especially since everyone’s stopped treating me like an invalid.”

He smiled. “You’ve managed to get on Constancia’s good side. I’m impressed. That takes some doing.”