Ocean's Ride Read online

  I reached William's side, noticing for the first time that what I'd thought were crab holes in the garden exhaled gusts of air that smelled of the salty sea below. No crab could do that. Not crab holes – sinkholes into the caves beneath the island. No wonder Dubhan's cave had been so well aerated – he'd undoubtedly had many air holes to the surface, hidden in the jungle.

  William offered me his arm and I took it, feeling the heat of him through his shirtsleeve and my white glove. Home. With him, I felt like I was home. Not in the watery world at Cocos where I'd spent my childhood...but here.

  We strode down the road together, the mud fighting me every step as it sucked at my shoes or tried to help me slide a little faster down the incline to the cove. If it weren't for William's steadying arm, anchored by his heavy boots, I'd have slid into Flying Fish Cove on my muddy backside, I was sure of it. But when we rounded the final bend, I stopped dead of my own accord. The cyclone I'd swum in so happily had destroyed the port.

  Hearing William's despairing description of the damage in the security of the Grotto was nothing to seeing the devastation with my own eyes.

  The storage sheds beside the White House were smashed to kindling, flattened as though some huge creature had stepped on them and squashed them flat, while leaving the brothel intact. One of the piers was missing altogether – swept away by the storm swell that had raged where the calm waters rippled now. Not the triangular one where the Islander had unloaded, but the short one beside it where I'd seen the phosphate ships loading.

  "Was anyone hurt?" I asked when I managed to find my voice.

  William's eyes held sympathy. "No, by some miracle everyone was fine. Even when boulders came down the cliffs." He pointed at the inland cliff where brown cascades of mud and rock had tumbled down the hundred-foot precipice, turning it into an incline of sorts, though an impossibly steep one.

  I drew in a sharp breath. Landslides. I knew he'd mentioned them, but never had I expected they'd be so big. Some of the rocks sticking out of the mud looked bigger than Tony's truck and when I imagined the speed at which they'd hurtled down the cliffs to the land below...William was right. It was one of Merry's miracles that no one had been hurt.

  William headed unerringly for a two-storey building that seemed to have taken very little damage at all, as it towered over the wrecked storage sheds. I climbed the stairs and froze when I reached the top and saw past the wrecked port to what had been the group of workers' houses known collectively as the kampung – the Malay word for village. The pier wasn't missing at all – the swell had strewn it along the beach, smashing it against palm trees and leaving bits on the eroded bank that had once been the kampung road. No more – the waves had washed away the road and the foundations beneath the rail line. From the debris washed up on the kampung verandas, it looked like the waves had licked the houses themselves. Between the landslide behind and the swell pounding their front doors, it seemed the ocean had truly tried to swallow the kampung.

  I glanced at William, whose expression had hardened at the sight of the cove. He'd said it was his curse that had caused the damage. As if one man could call a cyclone. Not even one of the ocean's gift could call down a storm of this magnitude. Though if I'd been so inclined, I could have worked with the waves to destroy the other piers...

  Think human, not mermaid. I shook myself and said softly, "It's not your fault, you know. The ocean doesn't curse people. It was just a storm. A bad one, but nothing out of the ordinary for this part of the world."

  "It was the worst storm on record at Christmas Island. How is that ordinary?" William snapped.

  I wondered what sort of storms my grandfather had experienced here, and how humans had survived on the surface then. "How long have humans been living on the island?" I asked absently, then held my breath as I realised what I'd said. I should have said people, not humans.

  William didn't seem to notice my slip. "Forty years, give or take a few. The worst storm in forty years!"

  "The worst storm to reach a tiny rock in a huge ocean in only forty years? And no one died? William, that's no curse – that's good fortune. I grew up at Cocos and it's a far different story there. We saw storms like this every summer, and sometimes more than once. I remember when I was a little girl, one cyclone levelled every building on Home Island. There were so many palm trees floating in the lagoon, along with planks from the houses, they could have made a raft big enough for the entire Cocos population." The raft William had found me floating on had been constructed from washed up cyclone wreckage – I'd watched the children lash it together and take it on short voyages between islands, before I'd stolen it in a fit of fury at my mother, my people and anyone else who was allowed to remain at Cocos when I was cast out.

  William's voice cut through my bitter thoughts. "That must have been terrible for you. How did you survive, lass?"

  On the raft, I'd survived on sheer fury alone until I'd succumbed to despair at my exile and the loss of all those I'd known and loved. When the Trevessa had spotted me, it had been days since I'd last been able to force myself to sing up a meal. But William wasn't talking about my banishment. What was his sympathy for?

  The cyclone? I'd been all of three years old and my sister had taken me into deep water to tumble in the swell, giggling together as we let the power of it carry us home. Duyong had taught me to ride the waves better than even dolphins could. Until Mother had found out and scolded us both. Ah, more painful memories and William was still waiting for a response.

  I shrugged. "I was very small. I only remember that the houses were gone and it seemed all the fish in the ocean wanted to hide under the floating wreckage. There was food aplenty for weeks."

  His expression seemed to hold awe. "It's a wonder you're still alive, given all you've been through. You're a survivor, that's for sure. I only wish I had your courage." He stared out to sea, blinking furiously.

  What? William had courage in spades. He'd waded fearlessly into fights without showing anything but his certainty of a successful outcome. "I'm stubborn, not brave, William. It took a lot of courage to try to come after me in shark-infested waters when the Trevessa sank."

  "If only I'd had your stubbornness then, I might have done more than try," William said darkly, then cleared his throat. "Come on, let's choose the film for tonight's cinema showing. Your choice, if you'll come to the cinema with me."

  They had a cinema on this tiny island? "Of course! I used to go to the cinema in Fremantle with Merry or Tony. Well, I only went once with Tony. He took me to see this film about monsters that drank blood. Dracula, I think it was called. You wouldn't call me brave if you'd seen me then! It was a dark night with no moon and the cinema's outdoors, so you hear all sorts of noises, and then a frightening film to boot...ooh, that was the last time I went to the cinema with him!"

  William's eyes blazed as he grasped my wrist. "Who is Tony?"

  I didn't understand his anger. "The man I worked for in the fish markets. Tony Basile." At his start of recognition, I remembered when they'd met. "Ah, the man in the cross-country motorcycle race who took a tumble in the river with you on the last lap."

  "That idiot? You walked out with that idiot?" It seemed I'd only thrown fuel on the fire of his fury. "He cut me off in the race and I'd have damn near killed him if I hadn't swerved and gone into the river instead. Damn near lost my motorcycle, too. Now I want to kill him more than ever for even thinking he had a chance with you, lass. My God..."

  My temper flared up. "Tony was my employer and my friend, William. Yes, he wanted to be more. I was lonely and I enjoyed his company and while you were busy ignoring me all over Fremantle, he asked me to marry him."

  "But I...but you...I wanted you to be my wife. What did you say to him?" William demanded.

  I yanked my arm from his grasp. "You never asked me. Not once. You spoke of what you wanted on the ship, but you never asked me."

  The anguish in his eyes broke my heart. "But you didn't understand. You didn't speak E
nglish. How could I have asked you to marry me when you didn't know what I was asking you to do? I consider myself an honourable man. I couldn't coerce you into a marriage you might not want." He swallowed. "Maria, what did you tell him? When he asked you, what was your answer?"

  "I didn't answer him. I bade him good night and that's all. The following day, I boarded the Islander in Fremantle and you know the rest."

  His eyebrows scrunched together as his face grew as thunderous as the sky last week. "I'm beginning to think there's a lot I don't know, and I aim to find out. Now you're my wife, there should be no secrets between us and –"

  A grinning Chinese man burst through the door and out onto the veranda. "Tuan! The Islander brought Frankenstein's monster!" He triumphantly held up a film reel. "This isn't even in Singapore yet. Can we show this at tonight's cinema?"

  William made a vague, affirmative reply that made the man grin more widely than ever.

  "Will you come to the cinema to watch the scary monster movie, Mem?" the man asked politely. "You are Tuan's sister, yes?"

  William coughed. "This is my wife, Mrs McGregor. My sister, Mrs Whyte, is still in Scotland, as far as I know, though she keeps writing and telling me how much she'd like to visit."

  His sister? The woman he'd talked about on the ship? The true owner of my precious tortoiseshell comb.

  William nudged me and I realised the Chinese man was looking at me expectantly. Awkwardly, I apologised and asked him to repeat his question.

  "No question, Mem. I only said I was honoured to meet you and I hope you enjoy your stay on Christmas Island."

  "A pleasure, Mr – " I realised that neither he nor William had told me the man's name.

  He flashed another grin. "Ong, Mem. If your husband had warned us of your arrival, we'd have planned a banquet in your honour."

  I managed an answering smile. "A pleasure, Mr Ong."

  A glance at William's scowl stopped me from saying more as he seized my arm and hustled me back down the stairs.

  Five

  William muttered under his breath most of the way up the road, and I caught phrases like, "Nosy Chinese bastard," and other less than complimentary terms which seemed directed at the innocuous Mr Ong. It wasn't until we were halfway back to the house, with no one within earshot, that William finally released my arm.

  "William, please stop cursing that man and his ancestry, and tell me what the problem is. I'm beginning to see why they call you Grumpy. I'm surprised they don't call you anything worse."

  He made as if to grab my arm again, but I stepped back, out of reach.

  "I crossed the ocean for the William McGregor who risked his own life to rescue me from a raft, a kind man who did his utmost to protect a girl he knew nothing about. One who talked and laughed and promised to take care of me. One who loved me, or said he did. Not some hard, grumpy man who never smiles and refuses to explain his rude behaviour." I stood my ground and lifted my chin, as I had the first time he'd argued with me on the Trevessa. This time, I wouldn't back down.

  If anything, William's scowl deepened. His breath hissed out. "I didn't like the way he looked at you." My disbelief must have been written clearly across my face, for he continued, "He was staring at your legs. You're...wait, you're not even wearing stockings? Lass, I thought you said you knew what you were doing!"

  He expected me to wear stockings in this heat? They'd be soaked with sweat within moments. Even in summer in Fremantle I'd gone without. "Ladies don't wear stockings when it's this hot," I mumbled, but he didn't seem to hear me.

  "He looked at you like he wanted to buy you, and he was guessing your price. First Basile, now Ong...and I remember how the men on the Trevessa looked at you, too. I mean to protect you, Maria, just like I promised." His expression softened.

  I sighed. Ocean preserve me from jealous husbands. And stockings. "So the problem is that you're jealous of other men even looking at me with admiration? Mr Ong was friendly, no more. William, I do know the difference. If you object to men looking at me, then I suggest you learn to ignore it. All men look at me and most of them admire my appearance." A sudden thought struck me. "Don't you find me attractive? Am I ugly to your eyes?"

  "God, no!" When he grabbed my shoulders, I didn't resist. He stared deep into my eyes. "I know you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, far too beautiful to be my wife. And when others see it and want to take you away from me..."

  I stretched up and lightly kissed his lips. "They'll find themselves in very deep trouble, because there's only one man I crossed the Indian Ocean for, and I want no other. I'll fight for you as fiercely as I've seen you fight for me, William. Now, when were you going to tell me about your sister's visit?"

  His gaze dropped to his shoes. "I'd completely forgotten, to be honest. All the excitement at finding you again and then the cyclone... James' father died recently and his mother moved in with them to help Sarah with the children. But now the children are at school for the term, Sarah wants to leave Morag to take care of James so she can make good on her promise to visit me. I've written so many letters, telling her about you and the Trevessa and all the strange things here on Christmas Island, she's been saying for years that she'd take ship across the world. I didn't believe her at first, but she won't let go of the idea. I haven't given her a date yet, but if I know her, she won't be put off for much longer. Before I know it, she'll be on her way to Singapore. The first news we'll have of her arrival in Singapore will probably come on the Islander...with her aboard."

  I managed to smile, though I felt more nervous than I had any reason to be. "Then we should get going on this island tour you've promised me. Your sister will surely want me to show her around the island and if we delay much longer, she'll arrive before I even know the most picturesque spots."

  William's smiled seemed more genuine than mine and it oozed relief, too. "Very well. Shall we?" He held out his arm and I took it for the climb back up to his bungalow at Rocky Point.

  Six

  When we reached the house, William said, "I should go change. You don't happen to have a pair of riding pants, do you?" He eyed my skirt.

  Riding pants? I tried not to laugh. "Of course not. The only riding I intended to do here is best without pants."

  To my delight, William reddened. "I meant on a motorcycle," he mumbled.

  It was my turn to blush. "No. Merry and I didn't own a horse, and though I rode my bicycle to work, I did so in a skirt. Though if I'd gotten around to buying a motorcycle like I wanted to, I might have bought appropriate clothing. Perhaps...perhaps I could wear some of yours?"

  William choked. I took his discomfiture as a no.

  "Where can I buy my own here, then?"

  He coughed and cleared his throat several times before replying, "You can't. I'll have to take you to Singapore to buy clothes. When the Islander returns, I will. Until then...I suppose a skirt will have to do."

  "Better than naked," I ventured, though I didn't mean a word of it. Just as long as he didn't try and insist I wear stockings again.

  "Yes. Absolutely, a million times yes," he said fervently.

  I followed him into the house, wondering why he felt the need to change. His present pants were perfectly practical for cycling – was motorcycling so different? I settled on the bed while he dropped his trousers. Sadly, his drawers stayed on, as he pulled on a pair that fitted more tightly than the ones he'd just shed. In fact, it didn't look like fabric at all. I stretched a hand out to touch his leg. More like... "Leather?" I asked, stroking the stuff as it warmed with his body heat.

  "Yes," he said shortly, pulling his boots on again. He led the way back outside, where I could hear the putter of a motor. The sound stopped before I reached the veranda, but I slowed my approach all the same, for now I could hear men's voices speaking Chinese.

  William charged down the steps, congratulating the men. I managed a more decorous descent, keeping one hand on the railing until I reached the ground.

  "What do you
think?" William asked, waving at his motorcycle. The men moved aside so I could see it.

  The wire shelf I'd refused yesterday now sported a bench seat of sorts. It looked like a plank wrapped in a piece of worn leather, then nailed in place behind the existing seat so that a passenger could sit behind the rider. The thickness of the plank made the springs no longer an issue – the only thing between my legs would be William. Hoping to hide my smile at that thought, I glanced down. A pair of additional footrests had been added to the frame, too.

  When I raised my eyes, it seemed everyone was still waiting for my reaction. I tried to channel a little of Merry's dignity and composure to stop myself from thinking about sex, for surely it would show in my expression. "I think it's quite an improvement. Thank you."

  This seemed sufficient, as William repeated my words in Chinese and the other men grinned.

  William lifted me in his arms and carried me to the Triumph, setting me sideways on the seat so my legs hung off one side and threatened to unbalance the motorcycle. William was quick to take the driver's seat in front of me, grabbing a pair of goggles off the handlebars and shoving them down over his eyes.

  "Hold on, lass!" he shouted, stomping down on the kickstart lever.

  The engine coughed irritably.

  He stomped twice more before the motor stopped expectorating and cleared its throat. It settled into a steady ticking, which seemed to satisfy William, so he shoved the kickstand, dropping me and the rear tyre with a jarring bump before the tyres found traction in the mud and we started to move downhill. I wrapped one arm around William, for sitting side-on to him made anything else too difficult, and clutched at my hat in my other hand as each bump and rut in the road seemed set on prying it loose from my head, four hatpins or no.

  We lurched through a pothole and I rose almost a foot off the seat before smacking back down again. "Stop!" I shouted at William. No way in water was I riding a motorcycle like this. I'd rather walk.