Islands

By Samantha Kane

Two men, one island, and a world at war...

Lieutenant Commander Gabriel Conlan, United States Navy Seabees, knows he's not in Kansas anymore when he steps off the launch at the small island of Ile Dore and sees gorgeous Frenchman Rene Dubois waiting for him on the dock. The year is 1943, the place is the Pacific and the world is at war. Free from the censure of the military, Gabe has an explosive affair with Rene. But when the world intrudes, Gabe denies Rene and tries to forget what they could have together. The only westerner on his small Pacific island, Rene is desperately lonely. When the tall, lanky American steps onto his dock, Rene knows his life will never be the same. He teaches Gabe how to love a man and, unexpectedly falls in love. Rene will brave prejudice, Japanese Zeros and Gabe's reluctance to find love at last.

*This story was previously published as an ebook, and in a print anthology titled Esprit de Corps.
**For mature readers only.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Samantha Kane
• Release date: Jun 6, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311294494

Samantha Kane

Reviewers have called Samantha Kane “an absolute marvel to read,” and “one of historical romance’s most erotic and sensuous authors.”  Her books have been called “sinful,” “sensuous,” and “sizzling.” She is published in several romance genres including historical, contemporary, and science fiction.  Her erotic Regency-set historical romances have won awards, including Best Historical from RWA's erotic romance chapter Passionate Ink, and the Historical CAPA (best book) award from The Romance Studio.  She has a master's degree in American History and taught high school social studies for ten years before becoming a full-time writer. Samantha Kane lives in North Carolina with her husband and three children. http://samanthakanebooks.com http://twitter.com/skaneauthor http://www.facebook.com/AuthorSamanthaKane http://www.pinterest.com/kane2993 http://www.goodreads.com/SamanthaKane

Book preview

1

August 1943

Central Pacific, Île Dorée, southeast of the Ellice Islands

The boat came out of the sunset. He thought at first it was an illusion. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d conjured a ship from his imagination. He watched for almost an hour as it grew bigger and bigger. When it got close enough for him to determine it was indeed real and not an illusion created by his lonely, overactive imagination, René Dubois rose from the dock where he’d been sitting after his evening swim.

No ships other than canoes carrying information and refugees had stopped here at Île Dorée in over a year. There were no pleasure cruises going on in Polynesia in the spring of 1943. There was damn little business going on except that of warfare. So René thought it was safe to assume the boat was a military one. But whose military? It was small and came with very little fanfare.

Just as he was contemplating sounding an alarm, he saw the American flag painted on its side. Ah, Americans. René hadn’t met many, but those he had met he liked considerably. They were generally a loud, arrogant, healthy, entertaining lot. So different from the English and French. A bit similar to the Australians, however. New worlds make new men, René thought idly as he watched the boat slide into place beside the end of the dock.

René rubbed his bare stomach with regret. He was hardly dressed to welcome an American contingent of naval officers. He shrugged, the gesture so habitual that most of the time he was not even aware of the movement of his shoulders. Ah well, it was his island after all. If the Americans didn’t like the casual dress code here, he would refrain from being half naked in front of them in the future.

He walked toward the small launch. There were only four men aboard, so this was to be a brief visit. His chest constricted. He would make the most of their stay, invite them to dinner at the villa, open a few bottles of his best wine and ply them for information of the outside world. He was so hungry for news, for company, for conversation. He loved Île Dorée and the people who lived here. He had no desire to leave, but sometimes he felt like Robinson Crusoe with a hundred Fridays. He wanted the companionship of westerners. He longed for the sharp twang of an American. He’d even settle for the crisp tones of an Englishman or the nasal diction of his native France. Anything from someone who didn’t remind him he was a stranger in this strange and beautiful world.

When a lanky American hopped up onto the dock from the deck of the boat René went still, waiting. The American was tall and fresh-looking, young, handsome. For a moment, René felt as if he were in a Hollywood film watching the hero walk out of the sunset. Or did they do that at the end of the film? Yes, they saved the girl and defeated the villain, then they walked into the sunset. This American resembled a Hollywood actor.

René stood there immobile as the American walked over to him. He moved with an easy grace few could accomplish after just stepping off a boat. His arms and legs were long and lean. He was tall, almost as tall as René. René nearly laughed out loud with delight. He couldn’t wait to stand toe to toe with this American and look him in the eye.

He wore a naval uniform. But the cap shaded his face and made it impossible to see his hair or features. René got a glimpse of a strong chin and square jaw as the American turned to look left and right of the dock. René just stood there, watching. Part of his inaction was due to the pleasure of watching the American walk to him, but most of it was due to caution. René waited for situations to come to him. He did not seek them out.

Finally the American came to a stop a few feet from René. The sun was setting quickly, the light fading. But René could see light-colored eyes assessing him from head to toe. He hoped the American liked what he saw. René thought perhaps the other man had indeed found something he liked when he lingered over René’s chest and legs. Oh yes, American, he thought, look all you like. And if you see something you want, it’s yours for the taking. For if René hadn’t talked to a westerner in over a year, it had been longer since he’d had sex. And he suddenly desperately wanted to have sex with this tall, lanky, American movie star.

When Gabe Conlan stepped off the launch at Île Dorée and saw the Frenchman waiting for him on the dock, he knew without a doubt he wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Well, he’d known it already, of course. But, honestly, the Pacific so far had been rather anticlimactic. Other than the hot weather, he’d hardly noticed he was in Polynesia. He’d spent most of his time in conference rooms, aboard ship or on construction sites. But Île Dorée—no, this wasn’t like anything Gabe had experienced before. He was filled with a sense of excitement, of expectancy. And it was more than the thrill of a three-day leave. There was something waiting for him here.

Gabe shook his head with a wry chuckle as the man on the dock silently watched him. Clearly the heat and exhaustion were taking their toll. He needed this break badly. Although it wasn’t all R&R. He had a mission to fulfill before he could relax completely. He was here to negotiate with René Dubois. The US needed to use his island for an airfield and a hospital in their invasion of the Japanese-held Pacific. He still found it strange to think that one man owned the whole island. The dossier he’d been given on Dubois said that he’d inherited it from his uncle, who had bought the island thirty years ago.

Gabe came to a stop a few feet from the man waiting patiently and tried not to stare. He was slightly taller than Gabe, muscular and very tan with hair bleached almost white blond by the sun. He stood there wearing nothing but a pair of faded swim trunks, completely at ease with his near nudity. Gabe had never seen such a beautiful man in his entire life, or a man so at ease with himself and his body.

René Dubois? Gabe asked. He knew the answer, but he’d been taught manners by Marjorie Conlan and the US Navy.

"Oui, yes, the tall blond answered in a deep, smoky voice that made Gabe think of whiskey and cigarettes and sex. I am René Dubois. Welcome to Île Dorée. How may I help you?"

Gabe took a deep breath in through his nose, fighting an inconvenient arousal. He’d spent all his life fighting them; he was an expert when it came to suppressing his emotions and his desires. So when he spoke his voice was calm, even if his dick wasn’t.

Lieutenant Commander Gabriel Conlan, United States Navy Seabees. Gabe stuck out his hand to shake Dubois’. Gabe knew that if he kept his words clipped and the handshake fast and perfunctory, he could get through it without anyone noticing his dick getting hard. Because that was something he hadn’t learned to control yet, not even after at least ten years of trying.

Dubois slid his hand into Gabe’s, the glide slow and sensual, and Gabe’s gaze flew up to the Frenchman’s face. He could see dark eyes staring at him from a face full of the sharp, aesthetic features he’d come to recognize as French trademarks—long thin nose, sharp cheekbones, thin lips on a wide mouth. The overly long blond hair was an anomaly, as was his height. Perhaps he had some Norwegian thrown into the mix? When Dubois squeezed his hand just so, the pressure not too tight but prolonged, almost as if they were holding hands and not shaking them, Gabe’s heart raced. He knew the signals, but this was wrong. This time, this place, this man, were all wrong. Gabe couldn’t give in to that here. He was here on official business and that business wasn’t to fuck the goddamned best-looking man he’d ever met in his life.

Commander, he heard the midshipman call from the launch, you all set here? He heard a thump and turned to see his sea bag hit the dock as it was thrown over the side of the launch.

It took Gabe a second or two to realize he was still holding Dubois’ hand. He yanked it out of the other man’s grip and waved at the midshipman to hold on. He took another deep breath and turned back to Dubois.

Are you planning on staying on Île Dorée, Lieutenant? Dubois asked, his voice silky and smooth. It poured over Gabe’s skin like warm water, leaving trepidation in its wake. He shook it off and stood up straighter.

"Lieutenant Commander,