could go.
She threw open the door. A half-naked savage sprang into her path, swinging his club in a whistling arc. Emily froze. He shoved his face into hers. She recoiled from the fishy stench of his breath. The sunlight shining through her hair seemed to mesmerize him. Muttering under his breath, he wrapped one of her curls around his grubby finger, baring his yellowed teeth in a fearful grimace.
When he released the curl, it sprang back and hit her in the nose. Nodding as if satisfied, his chant swelled to a wail and he began to roll his eyes and wag his tongue in time to the wild gyration of his hips. Emily didn’t know if he wanted to kill her or marry her. A churning throng of natives milled behind him, their gleaming teeth sharpened to menacing points.
Emily slammed the door in their tattooed faces and threw her back against it.
Cannibals! Oh, dear Lord, Justin had been telling the truth! Moaning under her breath, she pressed her eyes shut, feeling sick. Perhaps they’d go looking for fatter prey. Where was Penfeld when she needed him? She easedthe door open and peeped through the narrow crack. A bulbous brown eye peered back at her.
Muffling a shriek, she slammed the door and backed away from it. Miss Winters had always warned her that disobedience would lead to a dire fate, but Emily thought being eaten by cannibals a trifle too dire. She could well imagine the superior smirk on Justin’s face as he toasted her demise with Penfeld.
I tried to warn her
, he would say, shaking his head sadly.
The obstinate little vixen just wouldn’t listen
. Mock tears would well in his golden eyes. Penfeld would snort into his own starched handkerchief and pour him another cup of tea.
Anger stiffened Emily’s spine. She forced her frantic hiccups into slow, deep breaths. Damn Justin. Damn them all. She’d never met fate gracefully, and she wasn’t about to start now. A beam of sunlight caressed the sleek stock of the rifle hanging over the door.
She dragged herself over the rum barrel and climbed on top of it. It teetered beneath her weight as she drew the rifle from its hook. She’d never held a gun before. Running her hand over the cool barrel gave her a heady sense of power.
Her gaze darted between the door and the window. She had little advantage except the element of surprise. If the natives had surrounded the hut, she was done for.
She tiptoed across the hut and poked her head out the window. Bushy fronds waved in the breeze. She might be able to slip out undetected and run for the beach. But what glory was there in running to Justin’s arms, screaming like a hysterical chicken? Wouldn’t he be far more impressed if she captured an entire band of hostile marauders alone? If she proved she could look after herself, he might grant her the freedom to roam the beach undisturbed.
Emboldened by that thought, she heaved herself out the window and slunk toward the front of the hut, the riflecradled awkwardly in the crook of her arm. Sheltered by a fat bush, she peeped around the corner.
The savages’ attention was focused on the door. The one who had threatened her with his club had melted back into the crowd. They jabbered among themselves in low musical cadences. Almost every man carried some sort of weapon, except for two who bore an iron pot between them. Emily flared her nostrils indignantly. The arrogant wretches, she thought. What were they going to do? Boil her on her own doorstep?
Her finger curled around the cold trigger. Before she could move, a burly warrior wearing dangling jade ear pendants had a heated exchange with an older man whose shock of white hair contrasted sharply with the green furrows dug into his wizened skin. The muscled cannibal made a dismissive gesture toward the door. They argued briefly, then the old man demurred, baring his yellowed teeth in a smile that conveyed respect without obeisance.
As they turned toward the hill, Emily plunged out of the bush, waving the rifle wildly. A
She threw open the door. A half-naked savage sprang into her path, swinging his club in a whistling arc. Emily froze. He shoved his face into hers. She recoiled from the fishy stench of his breath. The sunlight shining through her hair seemed to mesmerize him. Muttering under his breath, he wrapped one of her curls around his grubby finger, baring his yellowed teeth in a fearful grimace.
When he released the curl, it sprang back and hit her in the nose. Nodding as if satisfied, his chant swelled to a wail and he began to roll his eyes and wag his tongue in time to the wild gyration of his hips. Emily didn’t know if he wanted to kill her or marry her. A churning throng of natives milled behind him, their gleaming teeth sharpened to menacing points.
Emily slammed the door in their tattooed faces and threw her back against it.
Cannibals! Oh, dear Lord, Justin had been telling the truth! Moaning under her breath, she pressed her eyes shut, feeling sick. Perhaps they’d go looking for fatter prey. Where was Penfeld when she needed him? She easedthe door open and peeped through the narrow crack. A bulbous brown eye peered back at her.
Muffling a shriek, she slammed the door and backed away from it. Miss Winters had always warned her that disobedience would lead to a dire fate, but Emily thought being eaten by cannibals a trifle too dire. She could well imagine the superior smirk on Justin’s face as he toasted her demise with Penfeld.
I tried to warn her
, he would say, shaking his head sadly.
The obstinate little vixen just wouldn’t listen
. Mock tears would well in his golden eyes. Penfeld would snort into his own starched handkerchief and pour him another cup of tea.
Anger stiffened Emily’s spine. She forced her frantic hiccups into slow, deep breaths. Damn Justin. Damn them all. She’d never met fate gracefully, and she wasn’t about to start now. A beam of sunlight caressed the sleek stock of the rifle hanging over the door.
She dragged herself over the rum barrel and climbed on top of it. It teetered beneath her weight as she drew the rifle from its hook. She’d never held a gun before. Running her hand over the cool barrel gave her a heady sense of power.
Her gaze darted between the door and the window. She had little advantage except the element of surprise. If the natives had surrounded the hut, she was done for.
She tiptoed across the hut and poked her head out the window. Bushy fronds waved in the breeze. She might be able to slip out undetected and run for the beach. But what glory was there in running to Justin’s arms, screaming like a hysterical chicken? Wouldn’t he be far more impressed if she captured an entire band of hostile marauders alone? If she proved she could look after herself, he might grant her the freedom to roam the beach undisturbed.
Emboldened by that thought, she heaved herself out the window and slunk toward the front of the hut, the riflecradled awkwardly in the crook of her arm. Sheltered by a fat bush, she peeped around the corner.
The savages’ attention was focused on the door. The one who had threatened her with his club had melted back into the crowd. They jabbered among themselves in low musical cadences. Almost every man carried some sort of weapon, except for two who bore an iron pot between them. Emily flared her nostrils indignantly. The arrogant wretches, she thought. What were they going to do? Boil her on her own doorstep?
Her finger curled around the cold trigger. Before she could move, a burly warrior wearing dangling jade ear pendants had a heated exchange with an older man whose shock of white hair contrasted sharply with the green furrows dug into his wizened skin. The muscled cannibal made a dismissive gesture toward the door. They argued briefly, then the old man demurred, baring his yellowed teeth in a smile that conveyed respect without obeisance.
As they turned toward the hill, Emily plunged out of the bush, waving the rifle wildly. A
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