Jade Star (Star Quartet 4)

“Yes, I suppose that’s it. But it’s paltry, Saint, to dislike a person—your own child, for heaven’s sake—all because she resembles someone else.”

It was more than “paltry,” Saint thought later; it was an illness that no physician could cure.

It was a beautiful, calm evening, the waves breaking gently onto the shore, their white crests gleaming nearly silver under the half-moon and brilliant stars.

“We’re married,” Jules said, staring out over the water from her perch on some volcanic rocks.

“Yes,” Saint agreed, wishing she weren’t sitting so close to him, “yes, we are. Is it all right with you, Mrs. Morris?”

“Yes,” she said, turning to face him. “I promise I won’t be very expensive, Michael. I like that—Mrs. Juliana Morris.”

There was humor in her voice and it pleased him inordinately. He took her hand in his without meaning to. Her flesh was warm and soft. “That’s a relief,” he said, smiling at her, “because I don’t have that much money. It isn’t unusual for my patients to pay me with favors.”

“I’m fortunate then,” she said with great insight, “else you might have had more trouble rescuing me, isn’t that so?”

“Yes, that’s so,” he said, releasing her hand. A strand of thick hair blew across her face, and without thinking, he reached up to smooth it back. She grew very still, her large vivid eyes unwavering on his face.

He rose abruptly, keeping his back to her. He looked down at his enthusiastic member, now bulging against his trousers, and cursed softly. “It’s late, Jules,” he said, his voice sounding harsh. “Go to bed.”

Jules stared at his rigid back. “I think I’d rather go swimming,” she said softly.

He quivered at that, remembering that night on the beach, her eyes on his naked body. He closed his eyes a moment, but he saw her in his vivid fantasy, saw his hands widening her legs, saw his hands stroking up her thighs to clutch her hips, to bring her down upon him.

“Go to bed,” he repeated.

“But don’t you want to—?”

He whirled around. “Damn you, Jules, get into the house! I am your husband, and you’ll obey me. Now!”

11

Jules woke up abruptly, disoriented for several moments. She stared about the small bedroom and for a brief instant thought that Wilkes was here, and she was again his prisoner.

When she read Michael’s brief note, propped up on the kitchen table, telling her he had gone into Lahaina to fetch some food, she felt at first profound relief, than a spurt of anger.

Why hadn’t he awakened her? She felt as if she were in some kind of quarantine. Was he afraid that she would be stoned for a harlot if she were to show her face again?

She stripped off her modest cotton nightgown, wrapped her swimming sarong around her, and left the house.

“Jules! I’m back!”

There was no answer. Saint saw her rumpled nightgown on the floor and shook his head. He knew where she was. He closed his eyes a moment. Please, he prayed, she wouldn’t, couldn’t, swim nude as he had done that night.

He strolled onto the beach, shaded his eyes against the bright morning sun, and searched for her bright head. He felt his heart pound uncomfortably for a moment when he finally spotted her. Dear heavens, she was out so far! Did she want to kill herself? He turned cold at the thought.

He was standing on the beach when Jules, having caught a big wave, was carried nearly to his feet on her stomach. She was laughing. He watched her stand and wring out her hair. The sarong molded her young body, leaving very little to the imagination—at least to his imagination.

“You swam out a good mile,” he said, his voice rough, hands on hips.

Jules smiled at him. “Good morning. Yes, I did. I had to, you know. The reef sharks like the deeper water on the far side of that coral reef.” He followed her pointing finger.

“I see,” he said. “Come along, I’ve got our breakfast. Can you cook, Jules?”

“I can try,” she said, giving him a sunny, guileless smile. She’d determined a good hour ago that she wouldn’t make him feel guilty for leaving her alone. She wouldn’t nag him or make him sorry he’d married her. She wouldn’t say a word about spending the night by herself. She would be the perfect wife.

“That sounds ominous. Perhaps together we can keep ourselves from starvation.”

She wanted to tell him how very handsome he was in his loose white shirt and black trousers. But he looked preoccupied, so she merely nodded and trotted after him into the small house.