ISLE ESME
Chapter One - The First Night
Disclaimer: I own nothing Twilight; it all belongs to the talented Stephenie Meyer.
A/N: We've finally reached the honeymoon. These chapters have less original text and more of my own words.
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"Houston?" I asked, raising my eyebrows when we reached the gate in Seattle. Our honeymoon was in hot, sunny Texas? I didn't think so!
"Just a stop along the way," Edward assured me with a smile.
It felt as if I'd barely fallen asleep when he woke me. I was groggy when he pulled me through the terminals, struggling to remember how to open my eyes after every blink. It took me a few minutes to catch up with what was going on when we stopped at the international counter to check in for our next flight.
"Rio de Janeiro?" I asked, with a lot more surprise.
"Another stop," he told me, grinning at my little huff of frustration. "Be patient, love."
The luxurious first-class seats were comfortably wide, something I appreciated even more after the seat belt sign went off, when Edward pulled me onto his lap. His arms cradled around me and his cool lips placed discreet kisses on my hair.
Every touch sent a thrill along my nerves, until finally I used the cover of the blanket draped over us to undo the lower buttons of his shirt. I only wanted to feel his skin under my hand, but once I touched that marble perfection, I couldn't resist the allure. Almost of their own accord, my fingers began caressing the hard planes of his flawless torso, slipping around his waist to stroke his back. My breath came faster and I leaned forward to kiss his neck.
He inhaled on a low hiss, and I felt a tremor run through him. "Bella," he whispered, "this is a very long flight, and if you keep doing that it's going to seem endless. Also, the flight attendant is coming to take our meal order."
Sighing, I withdrew my hand after one last caress, then rested my head against his shoulder for a moment before reluctantly sliding back into my own seat.
It was probably just as well we were being interrupted, I told myself, while Edward switched on the overhead light, then took out the menu and opened it for me to read. No reason to drive myself – or Edward - crazy with longings that couldn't be satisfied until we were on the ground again. However, I watched with regret as he re-buttoned his shirt with one vampire-quick motion.
Our flight attendant, a slender young man with café-au-lait skin and dark hair, had a knowing smile tugging at his lips as he took our order. That, and the veiled look of amusement in his eyes, made me uneasy. After I ordered, Edward requested a shrimp appetizer and a glass of white wine – keeping up the human charade, I supposed.
"Why was he smiling like that?" I whispered softly after the attendant moved to the seats behind us.
"He's guessed that we're newlyweds," Edward whispered back, then chuckled. When I raised an enquiring eyebrow, he added, "The attendants are taking bets on whether we'll attempt to join the Mile High Club later on."
"No, thank you," I muttered, feeling the usual blush cover my cheeks. "I don't know how anyone manages in those tiny bathrooms."
Edward chuckled again. "I bet we could find a way."
I saw the gleam in his eyes, and for just a second I was tempted. Then I shook my head, but I smiled. "Maybe on the flight back home."
He lifted my hand to his lips, kissed my wrist, then looked at me through impossibly thick lashes. "I'll remind you."
My lips parted as I got lost in the golden depths of his eyes and the sweet, dizzying scent of his breath. Then he whispered, "Breathe, Bella," and moved away, just far enough that I could regain my senses.
"Not fair," I whispered, blinking. I took a deep breath.
Edward looked apologetic. "I'm sorry. That wasn't nice of me."
"Actually, it was very nice," I corrected him, still breathless. "It just wasn't fair."
He smiled. "I won't do it again." Leaning forward, he kissed me briefly, and added, "Until we're alone."
Which of course took my breath away again. Once I regained it I leaned back in my seat, determined to act as normal as possible. Then, as I looked around the cabin, I realized we had attracted a bit of attention. Several people were smiling at us, although a young woman across the aisle was shaking her head in disapproval, her lips pursed. Her seatmate, on the other hand, was grinning. As I glanced at him, he gave me a wink, reminding me of Emmett. Flushing again, I looked away.
Edward's eyes flickered and the corner of his mouth turned up.
"More bets?" I guessed, with a sigh.
"Just speculation, but, yes – several others are wondering about the same thing."
Groaning, I closed my eyes, only to have to open them a minute later, when the attendant came with our drinks and Edward's shrimp appetizer.
After sleeping the entire flight to Houston I hadn't expected to feel sleepy again, but to my surprise I found myself yawning while eating the delicious chocolate mousse that followed the equally delicious meal of sole amandine and surprisingly fresh vegetables.
Maybe it was the wine, I mused as another yawn overtook me. I wasn't used to drinking wine – or anything alcoholic. After pretending to take a few sips from it, Edward had given me his glass of white wine, as well as the shrimp. Switching off the overhead lights, Edward cocooned me in the blanket and held me in his arms again. He began humming my lullaby, very softly, and my eyes closed.
I slept myself out and awoke unusually alert as the plane began its descent into the airport, with the light of the setting sun slanting through the airport's windows.
Instead of connecting with another flight, as I'd expected, we left the airport and took a taxi through the dark, teeming streets of Rio. Unable to understand a word of Edward's fluent Portuguese, I guessed we were off to a hotel before the next leg of our journey. A thrill of anticipation ran through me at the thought. The taxi continued through the swarming crowds until they thinned somewhat, and we appeared to be nearing the extreme western edge of the city, heading to the ocean.
We stopped at the docks.
Edward led the way down the long line of white yachts moored in the night-blackened water. The boat he stopped at was smaller than the others, sleeker, obviously built for speed instead of space. It was still luxurious, though, and more graceful than the rest. He leaped in lightly, despite the heavy bags he carried. He dropped those on the deck and turned to help me carefully over the edge.
Then he took me in his arms and kissed me. For a moment his lips totally distracted me, and I melted against him. Then a wave slapped the side of the boat, rocking it. His arms steadied me as I staggered, clutching at him to keep my footing, and he smiled apologetically down at me.
"Sorry, love. I couldn't help myself. Here, sit down while I get everything ready."
I gratefully accepted his assistance over to one of the two comfortable-looking seats at the front of the boat – the one without a wheel, of course – and sat down with a sigh of relief. Suddenly he looked at me with concern. "Bella, I should have asked before – do you get seasick?"
I smiled. "No, somehow I lucked out on that one. I've never had a problem with it."
"That's a relief." He kissed me again, and then grinned at me. "I'd hate for you to be all doped up tonight."
I returned his grin, then watched in silence while he prepared the boat for departure, surprised at how skilled and comfortable he seemed, because he'd never before mentioned an interest in boating. But then, of course, he was good at just about everything.
As we headed due east into the open ocean, I reviewed basic geography in my head. As far as I could remember, there wasn't much east of Brazil – until you got to Africa.
But Edward sped forward while the numerous lights of Rio faded and ultimately disappeared behind us. On his face was a familiar exhilarated smile, the one produced by any form of speed. The boat plunged through the waves, and I crouched down to avoid getting showered by sea spray.
Finally the curiosity I'd suppressed for so long got the best of me. "Are we going much farther?" I asked.
It wasn't like him to forget that I was human, but I wondered if he planned for us to live on this small craft for any length of time.
"About another half hour." He glanced at my hands, clenched on the seat, and chuckled. Twenty minutes later he called my name over the roar of the engine. "Bella, look there." He pointed straight ahead.
I saw only blackness at first, and the moon's white trail across the water. But I searched the space where he pointed until my weak human eyes found a low black shape breaking into the sheen of moonlight on the waves.
I kept squinting into the darkness, and as we grew nearer, the silhouette became more detailed. The shape grew into a squat, irregular triangle, with one side trailing longer than the other before sinking into the waves. We drew closer, and I could see that the outline was feathery, swaying to a light breeze.
And then my eyes refocused and the pieces all made sense: a small island rose out of the water ahead of us, waving with palm fronds, a beach glowing pale in the light of the moon.
"Where are we?" I murmured in wonder while he shifted course, heading around to the north end of the island.
He heard me despite the noise of the engine, and smiled a wide smile that gleamed in the moonlight. "This is Isle Esme."
The boat slowed dramatically, drawing with precision into position against a short dock, its wooden planks bleached into whiteness by the moon. The engine cut off, and the silence that followed was profound. There was no sound but the waves, slapping lightly against the boat, and the rustle of the breeze in the palms. The air was warm, moist, and fragrant – like the steam left behind after a hot shower.
"Isle Esme?" My voice was low, but it still sounded too loud as it broke into the quiet night.
"A gift from Carlisle – Esme offered to let us borrow it."
"A gift?" I repeated, stunned. "Who gives an island as a gift?"
Edward laughed. "Carlisle."
I shook my head. I hadn't realized Edward's extreme generosity was a learned behavior.
He placed the suitcases on the dock and then turned back, smiling his perfect smile as he reached for me. Instead of taking my hand, he pulled me right into his arms.
"Aren't you supposed to wait for the threshold?" I asked, breathless, as he sprang lightly out of the boat.
He grinned. "I'm nothing if not thorough." Gripping the handles of both huge steamer trunks in one hand and cradling me in the other arm, he carried me up the dock and onto a pale sand pathway through the dark vegetation.
For a short while it was pitch black in the jungle-like growth, and then I could see a warm light ahead. It was at the point when I realized the light was a house – the two bright, perfect squares were windows framing a front door – that my heart thudded audibly against my ribs, and my breath seemed to get stuck in my throat. I felt Edward's eyes on my face, but was feeling strangely shy about meeting his gaze, so I stared straight ahead, saying nothing.
He set the suitcases on the deep porch to open the door, which was unlocked. He looked down at me, waiting until I met his eyes. "Stage fright?" he inquired, a touch of uncertainty in his voice.
I smiled. "Not even a little."
He chuckled, then brought me up to meet his kiss. Still kissing me, he stepped across the threshold, and then carried me through the house, flipping on lights as he went. My vague impression of the house was that it was quite large for a tiny island, and oddly familiar. The pale-on-pale color scheme preferred by the Cullens – or at least by Esme – was repeated here; it felt like home. Then Edward stopped and turned on the last light.
The room was big and white, and the far wall was mostly glass – standard décor for my vampires. Outside, the moon was bright on white sand and, just a few yards away, the glistening waves. But I barely noticed that part. I was gawking at the absolutely huge white bed in the center of the room, hung with billowy clouds of mosquito netting.
Edward set me on my feet. "I'll go get the luggage." He took my face in his hands and kissed me until my head swam, then vanished out the door.
This room was too warm, stuffier than the tropical night outside. A bead of sweat dewed up on the nape of my neck. I walked slowly forward until I could reach out and touch the foamy netting. I'd heard of mosquito netting, but I'd never actually seen it until now.
I didn't hear Edward return. Suddenly, his wintry finger caressed the back of my neck, wiping away the drop of perspiration. "It's a little hot here," he said apologetically. "I thought that might be better . . . maybe the cold wouldn't bother you as much."
His cold body, he meant. "Thorough," I murmured approvingly, remembering all the times a romantic mood had been ruined because my teeth started chattering and he'd insisted we stop.
He chuckled. "I tried to think of everything, though I'm sure we'll find out otherwise." He moved my hair aside and touched the nape of my neck with his arctic lips. The slow, lingering kiss sent chills up and down my spine, and I shivered – but not from the cold.
"I was wondering if maybe you'd like to take a midnight swim with me?" he whispered, his hands stroking down my arms. "The water will be very warm and the sand is soft. This is the kind of beach you like."
"That sounds heavenly," I sighed, "but first I need a few human minutes."
His lips brushed against my neck, just below my ear. He chuckled once and his cool breath tickled my overheated skin. "Don't take too long, Mrs. Cullen."
The sound of my new name made me jump a little. Mrs. Cullen. It sounded strange.
His lips trailed down my neck to the tip of my shoulder. "I'll wait for you in the water."
He walked past me to the French doors that opened right onto the beach sand. On the way, he shrugged out of his shirt, dropping it on the floor, and then slipped through the door into the moonlit night. The sultry, salty air wafted into the room behind him.
Did my skin burst into flames? I had to look down to check. Nope. Nothing was burning, at least not visibly. Swallowing, I reminded myself to breathe, and then I went over to the giant suitcase that Edward had opened on top of a low white dresser.
It must be mine, because my familiar bag of toiletries was right on top, but I didn't recognize even one article of clothing. As I pawed through the neatly folded piles, looking for my robe, it came to my attention that there was an awful lot of sheer lace and skimpy satin in my hands. Lingerie. Very lingerie-ish lingerie, with French tags.
Alice.
Disconcerted – and more than a little fascinated by the variety of items – after a moment I gave up and went into the bathroom, where I peeked out through the long windows opening onto the same beach as the French doors. I couldn't see him; maybe he was there in the water, not bothering to come up for air he didn't need. In the sky above, the moon was lopsided, not quite full, and the sand shone as white as snow under its light.
A small movement caught my eye – draped over a bend in one of the palm trees that fringed the beach, the rest of his clothes were swaying in the light breeze.
A rush of heat flashed across my skin again. I took a couple of deep breaths and walked over to the mirrors above the long stretch of countertop. I looked exactly as if I'd been sleeping on a plane all day.
Great.
I found my brush and yanked it through the snarls at the back of my neck until they were smoothed out and the bristles were full of hair. Then I brushed my teeth, something I'd been longing to do ever since leaving the plane, took a quick shower, and finally felt human again.
I left my hair clipped up on top of my head – the thought of getting it soaked with sea water made me shudder - then hesitated. What should I wear? Not clothes, obviously, and a swimsuit seemed silly, but I wasn't ready to consider the things Alice had packed for me.
Not yet.
Even more quickly I dismissed the notion of going out just as I was. Definitely not ready for that! Then I hesitated. Was I being silly? It wasn't as if Edward hadn't seen my body before. Okay, it was only a few times, but why did I feel so much more . . . naked . . . exposed, really . . . standing upright than I had when we were lying together in the meadow, or in a bed?
It didn't make sense, but that was the way I felt. So I took a deep breath, grabbed the huge white towel I'd just used, wrapped it under my arms, and hurried out of the bathroom, past the huge white bed and the suitcase full of French lace, and out the open glass door onto the powder-fine sand.
Everything was black-and-white, leached colorless by the moon. I walked slowly across the warm powder, pausing beside the curved tree where he'd left his clothes. I looked across the low ripples, black in the darkness, searching for him.
He wasn't hard to find. He stood, his back to me, waist-deep in the midnight water, staring up at the oval moon. Its pallid light turned his skin a perfect white, like the sand, like the moon itself, and made his wet hair as black as the ocean. He was motionless, his hands resting palms down against the water; the low waves broke around him as if he were a stone. I stared at the smooth lines of his back, his shoulders, his arms, his neck, the flawless shape of him. . . .
The fire was no longer a flash burn across my skin – it was slow and deep now; it smoldered away the last lingering traces of shyness or uncertainty. Without hesitation I slipped the towel off, leaving it on the tree with his clothes, and walked out into the white light; it made me as pale as the snowy sand, too.
I couldn't hear the sound of my footsteps as I walked to the water's edge, but Edward could. He turned and watched as I let the gentle swells break over my toes – and found that he'd been right about the temperature; it was like bath water.
Feeling his gaze on me as if it were a physical touch, I stepped in, walking cautiously across the invisible ocean floor, but my care was unnecessary; the sand continued perfectly smooth, sloping gently toward Edward. I waded through the weightless current until I stood in front of him, then I placed my hand lightly over his cool hand lying on the water.
"Beautiful," I said, looking up at the moon.
"It's all right," he said, but he didn't seem impressed. His eyes looked silver in his ice-colored face, and he hadn't taken them off me since I entered the water. He twisted his hand so that he could twine our fingers beneath the surface of the water. It was warm enough that his cool skin didn't raise goose bumps on mine.
"But I wouldn't use the word beautiful," he continued. "Not with you standing here in comparison."
I half-smiled, then raised my free hand and placed it over his heart. White on white; we matched, for once. He shuddered at my warm touch, and his breath came rougher now.
"We're together now, where we belong," I murmured, abruptly overwhelmed by the truth of my own words. This moment was so perfect, so right; there was no way to doubt it.
His arms wrapped around me, holding me against him, summer and winter. It felt as though every nerve-ending in my body had suddenly come alive. "I love you," he whispered, bending down.
"Forever," I agreed in the moment before he claimed my mouth. The kiss was long and slow and intense, and when I had to break away to catch my breath, Edward gently pulled us into deeper water. Time seemed to stop as we floated there under the bright moon, exchanging soft, unhurried kisses, the dark water lapping quietly around us, each gentle swell rocking our bodies together in a very interesting manner.
Our caresses began softly, sweetly – the light touch of a hand tracing the curve of a waist and hip, brushing against a breast, gently stroking sensitive flesh under the warm water. Then, as urgency grew, we returned to shallower water, where Edward demonstrated the advantage of not needing to breathe by ducking beneath the warm waves and remaining there for long minutes while his cool tongue did things to me I'd only read – and guiltily dreamed – about.
His arms caught me just as my knees buckled. He carried me back across the white sand, kissing me all the while, and set me on my feet in the bathroom. Still breathing raggedly, I leaned against him, trying to find some strength in my legs, while he turned on the shower. When the temperature was to his liking, he lifted me over the lip of the enclosure, careful to keep my hair out of the spray; and we let the warm water stream over our bodies, rinsing away every last trace of salt water and clinging sand.
"You seemed to like that," he murmured in my ear. I knew he wasn't referring to the shower, and I blushed furiously. His voice sounded a bit smug, so I decided on a little revenge.
I kissed his chest – so beautiful it made my throat ache – and found a nipple, running my tongue across the tiny granite nub. He inhaled sharply, and then let the breath out with a soft sound as I slid my hands down his body and stroked him.
His already firm flesh expanded rapidly with my caresses, and when I knelt in front of him and hesitantly took him in my mouth, he gasped out loud, his fingers tightening in my hair. Of course, I had only the vaguest idea of what I should do, and so I felt incredibly awkward and unsure. All too soon, Edward gently pulled my head away, much to my consternation.
"Didn't I do it right?" I whispered as he pulled me to my feet.
His laugh was jagged as he held me against him and kissed me, his breathing rough. I felt tremors running through his body. "Sweetheart," he whispered unevenly, "if it was any better, I'd be in danger of destroying this shower."
I remembered the wrought-iron frame of his bed at home, mangled during our "practice" sessions, and the deep furrows his hands had gouged in the ground of the meadow where we'd first made love; and I forced myself to step away from his arms and out of the shower.
The drying-off process was probably the fastest on record; I don't think thirty seconds elapsed before the towels lay in a heap on the floor and I was in his arms again and being carried into the next room.
"I can walk, you know," I protested, half-laughing.
"Not tonight," he told me with a smile, and smoothly slid us both into the middle of the huge bed. He deftly removed the clip from my hair, then ran his fingers through the heavy mass as it tumbled over my shoulders. His cool lips were urgent on mine, as imperative as the hands now moving over my body, stroking and caressing . . . sending my heartbeat into overtime as I tried to keep up with the overload of sensations.
Edward had always been fascinated by the reaction of my skin to his touch, and would often stroke my cheek or neck for the sheer delight of seeing the blood rush close to the surface. Now, however, more than my face was involved; my entire body was flushed pink and I was making incoherent little sounds by the time he stopped his explorations. Finally, he moved above me and, with excruciating care, slid into me and made us one.
Then he shuddered and stopped moving, holding very still. "Bella," he gasped/groaned, "I'm sorry. I don't - think – I – can – wait." Tiny shivers ran through his tense body.
"I don't want you to," I gasped in turn, almost out of my mind from the feel of his cold length inside me. I wrapped my legs around him as tightly as I could, trying with all my strength to bring him even closer- which didn't seem possible.
He shuddered again, violently, and his arms slid beneath me, crushing me against him as he thrust into me, not nearly as carefully this time. That final pressure shot me over the edge as well. I was only dimly aware, through the convulsions shaking me, of his choked cry somewhere around my ear. Some unknown time later – seconds? – minutes? - I gradually became conscious of his arms holding me close, though not as tightly as before, and of the pressure of his lips on my hair.
"I love you," I managed to whisper through the lassitude turning my muscles to jelly.
"You are my only love, Bella," I heard in return. "For now and for always."
That sounded exactly right, but sleep claimed me before I could tell him.
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END OF PART ONE
