Page 54 of Once an Angel
Finding Justin occupied with the toothless old man to his left, she reached for his cup.
His stern hand closed around her wrist. "Tsk, tsk. Are you being a naughty little girl again?"
"I'm not a little girl," she retorted, crossing her eyes at him. "I'm thirsty."
They both knew his cup of icy spring water had been laced with rum, while hers was plain.
He tilted his head thoughtfully. "I suppose one sip wouldn't do you any harm."
"No, but denying me might do you harm."
He held the cup out of her reach. "Patience, love. Allow me the honor."
Emily was so stunned by his chiding endearment that the press of the cool cup against her lips startled her. The noise and confusion seemed to fade, leaving her alone, trapped in the golden heat of Justin's eyes. He tilted the cup and she drank deeply. Liquid fire spilled through her veins, intensifying with each slow throb of the pulse at the base of Justin's throat. He drew the cup away, leaving clear drops of flame pearled on her lips. Her greedy tongue lashed out to extinguish them, and his breath caught in a groan.
The old man tugged on his arm, begging his attention.
Emily summoned a shaky smile. "There. I promise not to be naughty anymore."
She waited until he'd set down the cup, then deftly switched it with her own. She took care to sip, not gulp, knowing the rum was more exotic and far more potent than the cooking sherry she and Tansy
used to pilfer from the seminary kitchen.
A line of oil-sheened warriors leaped into the center of the torchlit circle, their wild gyrations telling of battles won and battles still to be fought. Emily swayed to the chant of their mighty war song. They used no drums, but kept the tempo by stamping their feet. The packed sand reverberated with their masculine fervor, churning Emily's blood to a dangerous pitch. She shifted in the sand, feeling acutely the press of Justin's hip against her own.
She was almost relieved when the women of both tribes appeared, weaving a dance to a lilting melody as they twirled balls of plaited flax between their graceful fingers. Her relief vanished as a dusky-eyed stranger broke from their ranks and started for Justin.
Emily slumped with a long-suffering sigh, awaiting the deferent bow, the adoring squeal of "Pakeha!"
"Justin, my darling!" the woman cried, her voice a musical purr.
"Rangimarie! I didn't know you were coming," he answered, breaking into a boyish grin.
Emily sat straight up.
The woman flung herself to her knees, enveloping him in her embrace. He disappeared in the straight
fall of her silky black hair. Emily dazedly touched her own coarse curls. The humid air had tightened them into corkscrews.
The lush Polynesian beauty spread her skirt around her, speaking rapidly in Maori. Justin answered in kind, bringing her hand to his lips in a gesture so civilized, so purely English, Emily found it as damning a confession as if he'd laid the woman on the sand at her feet and bedded her. Their intimacy was obvious. The woman shook her hair in a seductive motion. Emily glared at it, wondering what sort of war she would start if she yanked it out by its ebony roots.
She nudged Trini, nearly overturning his cup. "She's rather pretty, isn't she? If you fancy women with tattoos."
In truth, only the woman's chin was tattooed. The etched wings emphasized the pouting tilt of her lips, the exotic slant of her eyes. Reaching across Emily, she plucked a passion fruit from a tray and snapped half of it away with her straight white teeth. Golden juice trickled down her chin.
"Did you see that?" This time Emily did tumble Trim's cup, spilling cold water down his bare chest. "What horrid table manners. The brazen wench wouldn't last through tea at Miss Win—" She bit off the word, casting him a nervous glance. Trini didn't seem to notice her slip. He was too busy sponging off
his chest with his feathered cloak.
Her mouth fell open in hopeless shock as the intruder tucked the other half of the passion fruit into Justin's mouth, her tan fingers lingering against his lips as if in memory of past delights and a promise of future ones. A jagged spear of pain plunged into Emily's heart. Feeling small and ugly and freckled, she bowed her head, wishing for hair long enough to hide behind.
The song of the dancers swelled to a new rhythm, hypnotic and sensual. Laughing, the woman pulled away from Justin's hands and rose to join the sultry dance of her native sisters.
Justin leaned toward Emily, forced to yell over the music. "Now you can see why I find the Maori so irresistible. They do nothing without singing."
"Nothing?" she bit off acidly.
He hummed under his breath, blithely unaware of the petite volcano seething at his side. "Rangimarie
