Henderson Sands (Romance in the Mediterranean)

By Paula Freda

Henderson Sands is a nickname that Harriet Henderson and Thorvald Sands christen the island in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in the Mediterranean, on which they are stranded. Since late childhood Harriet a New York waitress, remembers fearing and disliking the opposite sex. Recurring nightmares haunt her anytime she comes close to becoming involved with a man. With Val (Thorvald) the nightmares have not come, not yet, possibly because she finds him the most intense, most handsome, vital man she has ever met. Undeniably he holds a strange fascination for her. But as for seriously considering the endearments he lavished upon her each evening while they strolled the decks of the ocean liner cruising the Mediterranean, she accepted his smooth words with a grain of salt. A shipboard romance. Once the ship docked in New York, she would never want to see him again. Then fate steps in, and Harriet finds herself stranded alone with Val on an exotic island in the Mediterranean. Besides saving her life, Val proves himself an excellent hunter and ingenious trapper, building his own weapons and tools from nature's own resources. On the ship he had seemed human; on the island he is a gentleman's version of a Viking warrior. He appears to be enjoying himself, tackling with gusto the task of creating a habitable dwelling for them. Harriet cannot deny her attraction, yet how can she permit herself to find him devastatingly appealing? Isn't he like most men, fundamentally interested in — she refuses to think further. And then the nightmares return....

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paula Freda
• Release date: Apr 24, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458120519

Paula Freda

About the AuthorDorothy Paula Freda, is also known under her pen names Paula Freda and Marianne Dora Rose. Herbooks range from Fiction and Non-fiction Adventure, Romance, Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Poetry, Articles, Essays and How-to-Write Instructional complete with Lessons and optional assignments.Homemaker, mother of two grown sons, and former off-the-desk publisher of a family-oriented print small press, (1984 thru 1999), The Pink Chameleon, that she now publishes on line, Paula was raised by her grandmother and mother, and has been writing for as long as she can remember. Even before she could set pencil to paper, she would spin her stories in the recording booths in the Brooklyn Coney Island Arcades for a quarter per 3-minute record. She states, "I love the English language, love words and seeing them on display, typed and alive. A romantic at heart, I write simply and emotionally. One of my former editors kindly described my work, '...her pieces are always deep, gentle and refreshing....'" Paula further states, "My stories are sensitive, deeply emotional, sensual when appropriate, yet non-graphic, family fare, pageturners. My hope is that my writing will bring entertainment and uplift the human spirit, bring a smile to your face and your soul, and leave you filled with a generous amount of hope."

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Henderson Sands

by Paula Freda

Cover and Story Copyright © 2005 by Dorothy Paula Freda

(Pseudonym - Paula Freda)

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction, names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. This novella appeared in my book Roses in the Dark (ISBN 978-1-4523-6176-5) that comprised four interwoven love stories, written by the same author, Paula Freda.

Henderson Sands

by Paula Freda

CHAPTER ONE

A gentle man has no need of iron gloves

and magic hammer;

rather gentle springs and warm streams.

Thor of lightning and Neptune of the sea,

Let sunrays bathe sea nymphs

and wandering angels.

Henderson Sands was an island in the middle of nowhere. The fact that it was a lush paradise did nothing to endear it to Harriet, who sat on the edge of one of its jagged cliffs and scanned the pale yellow and blue horizon for a plane or a ship, for anything, mechanical or living, that could bring hope of rescue.

Deliverance was a better term - deliverance from Thorvald Sands, the other occupant of this uncharted five square miles of wild vegetation, steep cliffs and sandy beaches.

Hey, Harry.

Harriet pretended not to hear.

How about frying some of that fish I netted this morning? Val called. Harriet visualized him in her mind’s eye, standing legs apart, hands on hips, shirtless, a brawny blond Adonis, with well-browned shoulders and a short-cropped beard, his slacks in tatters, like her own.

When she didn’t answer, he asked, much nearer, Is it that time of month again, or are we in one of our ordinary black moods this morning?

Harriet swung her legs off the cliff's edge and climbed to her feet. She met the smile teasing his mouth and his eyes, a light brown. He was a hulk of a man whose father claimed descent from Norsemen of old. She tugged at what was left of her blouse. Two ends of its hem were knotted securely in front and had a habit of riding up.

Sea breezes blew through his medium-length hair, cut irregularly because of the honed stone he used in the absence of scissors.

You know I hate fish, she told him and cantered past him bare-footed. There was no chance she would go hungry. The island abounded with fruits, besides the meat that hung in the smokehouse that Val had built. He hunted regularly, building his weapons and tools from nature’s own. The island might be devoid of people, but it teemed with small wildlife.

Before entering the forest on her way to their lodgings on the other side of the woods and close to a sandy beach, she glanced over her shoulder. He was not far behind her. She recalled his appearance on the ship - smooth shaven and clean-cut, his tall broad frame elegantly suited in a muted mint-green colored jacket and white pants — he owned several pastel colored sports suits, each one soothing to the eye. Smitten with her from their first meeting aboard the luxury liner, Thorvald Sands politely opened doors for her to pass through or pulled out chairs for her to sit, and dined and danced her across the Atlantic and the Mediterranean.

She had not minded the attention. After saving up for several years from the measly salary and tips she earned as a waitress in a decaying hole the proprietor called a diner, she was ready for all the diversion at hand. As for seriously considering the endearments Val lavished upon her each evening while they strolled the decks and gazed at the foam crested waves, she accepted his smooth words with a grain of salt. A shipboard romance. Once the ship docked in New York, reality would set in and she would never want to see him again. When it came to men, Harriet Henderson leaned towards misandry. Men were an odious lot, all of them after one objective - to lure some poor unsuspecting female under their bedcovers. She classified Thorvald Sands under that category and he would now be simply a memory if the windstorm had not intercepted their ship.

She had decided to forego the pleasure of Val’s company one evening for a visit with the placid sea gone insane. Against the Captain’s orders that all passengers remain in their cabins until the storm passed, she crept on deck. Bracing herself against the rail she inhaled the wet, tangy smell of the sea, and reveled in the blustery, watery wind spraying her face. Excitement filled her veins and she laughed as the ship rocked and listed perilously.

For heaven’s sake, woman!

Startled, she turned, letting go of the rail. Val was coming toward her. It was the first time she had seen him lose his composure. An explosive wave hit the ship broadside and the vessel