“Allons!” Mason demanded impatiently. “Come out of there!Vite!”
Kenna shielded her eyes from the lantern light that blazed at Mason’s side. How dare he order her to hurry! She raised her chin a notch and straightened her shoulders.
Mason’s laugh mocked her. “A pathetic show of defiance, Mrs. Canning. Do you recognize this?” He held up a vial, thrusting it into the light so that she might see it. Her absolute stillness told him that she clearly understood its contents and its purpose. “Good. It would be awkward if I had to use this, but I assure you I will if you do not cooperate of your own accord. Now come here. Bring your valise.”
Kenna stood and walked slowly toward him, picking up the valise. He stepped away from the door and ushered her into the empty passageway. Mason closed the door, put a hand at the small of Kenna’s back and urged her along the corridor. Her legs were weak as she climbed the narrow stairs to the upper deck awkwardly and Mason finally took the valise from her. He stopped her in front of the door to his cabin, opened it, and motioned her inside. Kenna glanced at the cabin’s single porthole as Mason set down the lantern on a trunk. It was dark outside. She wondered what time it was, what day. “Why am I here?” she asked.
Mason pointed to a wooden tub sitting in one corner. “I want you to wash.” He put the valise on the bed and opened it, rifling its contents until he found the clothing he wanted. He laid out clean undergarments, smoothed the wrinkles from Kenna’s gown, and put her kid slippers on the floor. When he turned back to Kenna he saw she hadn’t moved. She was watching him warily. “Undress. Wash yourself.”
“Why?”
Mason ignored her question. He walked toward her, turned her around, and began undoing the fasteners at her back.
Kenna pulled away. “I’ll do it.”
“As you wish.” Mason sat on the bunk.
“May I have some privacy?”
“No. There are some matters we must discuss.”
Fingers trembling, Kenna began to undress, keeping her back to him. The water in the tub was cold but Kenna entered it quickly, hunching her shoulders to keep Mason’s eyes from violating her any more than they already had. She found a sliver of soap and a cloth and began washing.
“Do you know where we are?” he asked.
“No. Near Paris?”
“Near Dunnelly.” He saw her grow still with shock, then resume washing again. “You and I are going ashore in a few hours. I have already arranged the meeting. There will be an exchange—you, for a great deal of money.”
“I see,” she said slowly. It explained the bath. Mason did not want her to look as if she had been mistreated. “If money was your objective all along then why not ask Rhys for it?”
“Your husband is a wealthy man, but not nearly so wealthy as your brother. It is Dunnelly funds I want. You and I will be met in the caves. You’re familiar with the caves, I believe.”
Kenna nodded.
“Bien.I will expect your cooperation. I regret that it will be necessary to bind your wrists. However, you will be able to walk on your own. The entire affair will be accomplished in a few minutes and I will leave. I hope, for your sake, that no one tries to stop me. You would do well to consider that before you take it upon yourself to play the heroine.”
Kenna closed her eyes briefly to hold back the rush of tears. She willed herself not to cry in front of this man. Kenna dipped her head in the water to wet her hair then began to wash it, digging her fingers into her scalp painfully so that she could think of nothing else. When she finished rinsing she rose from the tub and clumsily wrapped herself in a towel. “Nicholas will not give you money.”
Mason shrugged, getting to his feet. “I’ll be back in an hour. Make yourself comfortable.”
“Bastard,” she said under her breath. “Satan’s spawn.”
Mason opened the door to the cabin, laughing shortly. “You are not the first person to call me a devil, Mrs. Canning. But in your situation one should practice more discretion. It would not cause me the slightest inconvenience to break your nose a second time.”
Kenna stared mutely at the door as it was locked from the other side. Too late she found her voice. “Wait!” she cried, running to the door and pounding on it with her fists. “Come back here! I want to know what you meant!” There was no reply, not that she had expected one. Kenna sagged against the door, fists clenched.
* * *
Nicholas was pacing the floor in Victorine’s room. Without fail he would glance at the mantel clock as he turned sharply on his heel to resume pacing in the opposite direction. “I cannot let you do it, Victorine. It’s too dangerous.”
Victorine’s fingers plucked nervously at the folds of her dress. “There is no other way. The note is very specific. I must go to the caves myself with Kenna’s ransom. If I do not—”
“I read the damn message,” Nick said, barely holding onto the threads of his temper. “I know what it said. What I don’t understand is why. Why you, Victorine? Why must you be the one to deliver the money?”
“I suppose because I am a woman. I do not present the same threat as you.” Victorine’s hair had become markedly gray in the weeks that followed Kenna’s funeral services. For years she had given the appearance of being much younger than her age. It was no longer true. There were deep lines about her mouth and eyes and her normally clear complexion was now simply colorless. “I wish I had not called you down from London,” she said. “I knew you would argue. I would have done this thing myself if it were not for the fact that you control the money and there was no time for me to sell my jewels.”
“Thank God you did send for me. I would not for the world wish you to do this thing alone. But, Victorine, you may be risking yourself without cause. Can either one of us be certain that Kenna is truly alive and that this message you received is not some cruel joke? Let me go in your stead. If I have the money with me do you really think Kenna’s abductor will turn me away? Of course he won’t. And if Kenna is there I am better suited to protect her from further harm.”
