“Yes, m’lady.”
“I never knew. I always thought of him as Monsieur Raillier. You must speak to him before he poisons the entire house. It’s something of a miracle no one else has taken sick.”
“That it is,” Janet said hurriedly. “I’ll speak to him. You have my word upon it.” She made a deep curtsy. “Shall I bring you some tea? I’m sure the doctor would approve of something light.”
“No. Nothing. I’d like to rest now.” When she was alone her doubts returned. How was it she was the only one in the house to take ill if the poisoning was accidental? It was useless to think on it now when she couldn’t concentrate on anything save the insistent ache in her temples. Another cramp seized her and she reached for the basin Janet had seen fit to leave on her nightstand. She held on to it, clutching it to her middle, but she had nothing to give up. The dry cramping was extremely painful and when it was over Kenna was exhausted. She pushed the empty basin away, buried her face in the pillow, and prayed for sleep.
It came effortlessly, but then so did the dream. There was nothing she could do to call back the moment when she caught Yvonne by the hand and dragged her toward the bedchamber so she could change for the masque. She saw her father and Victorine dancing in the ballroom and repeated her conversation with the mysterious devil. She hid in the gallery and witnessed Victorine kissing the highwayman and she took the same route to the summerhouse and to the cave as she had always taken. She crouched low in the antechamber, listened to the argument with growing wonderment, then, without warning, the threads of her dreams changed, creating a new tapestry of terror…
As Kenna watched from the crack in the rock Victorine began to cry, looking pathetically wretched as she buried her face in her hands. Kenna’s stomach churned as her father comforted the wife who had betrayed him in the gallery and held off the Frenchman and Rhys with his pistols. She was afraid for him and afraid for herself. Her fear paralyzed her, made her incapable of acting on her instincts to help her father.
Kenna struggled to her feet, clawing at the rock for support, and edged closer to the entrance to the antechamber. One of the Frenchmen moved almost imperceptibly nearer to her father and his fingers curled for the pistol tucked in the waistband of his breeches. Kenna glimpsed the movement and her breath caught as she waited for her father to respond. When he didn’t, she stepped into the entranceway, in full view of Lord Dunne, Victorine, and Rhys. Though Kenna did not spare a glance for anyone save her father, she saw enough to know neither Rhys nor Victorine recognized her in her highwayman garb. Not so her father. His eyes widened and Kenna swore his face drained of color. Both Frenchmen twisted their heads to see what had captured the attention of the others and when they saw Kenna, they froze.
Their shocked stillness lasted until they realized the intruder was without a weapon, but it was Kenna who leaped first, tackling the Frenchman closest to her. The lantern was knocked over and the chamber was plunged into complete darkness. There were shots and Victorine’s screams covered Kenna’s pained grunt as her nose was broken.
She woke in the quiet darkness, heard the gentle rush of water, and knew what she would find. Her hand had not even touched her father’s sleeve before she began screaming…
Kenna sat straight up in her bed, heart hammering. It took her several moments to orient herself. Her fingers curled around the sheets and found them only slightly damp. She wondered if she had really screamed or if she had merely imagined she had. Glancing at the window she saw someone had opened the drapes but that it was already dark outside. A few logs had been added to the fireplace and they burned brightly, casting distorted shadows on the walls of her room. Nick was leaning against the mantel, half turned toward Kenna, his profile etched darkly against the orange flames. His shoulders were slumped forward and in one hand he held a drink which he kept turning in weary thoughtfulness.
He looks so tired, she thought, and her heart ached for him. She had never considered before how heavily her nightmares weighed on her brother and now it occurred to her that in some way they had affected Nick’s decision not to marry. She had never meant to become a burden to Nicholas, but however unwittingly, it seemed she had. When she thought of how Nick had taken her side against Rhys, refusing to issue an ultimatum of marriage to her, her heart swelled with love.
“Nick?” She held out a hand to him. “Come here. See for yourself that I’m all of a piece.” When he didn’t move or respond in any way she retracted her hand and fingered the braid that hung over her shoulder. “I’m sorry about the nightmare, Nick. I wish it were different; wish I could control it. You’re very good to me, to come like this when you know I’m frightened.” Kenna took the ribbon from her hair and unwound the braid, threading her fingers through the damp tangles at her nape. “It was much the same dream,” she said thoughtfully, reviewing it in her mind.
“But?” he asked.
She smiled. “You know me so well. I remember stepping into the antechamber this time. The Frenchmen turned toward me, ever so briefly. God, how I wish I could recall their faces. Everything happened too quickly. Victorine was there—and Rhys—but they didn’t seem to recognize me. Papa did.” Her smiled vanished. “I’m afraid it’s why he didn’t fire his weapon sooner. Oh, Nick! I think I may have caused it all to happen.”
“No. You didn’t.” He stepped away from the mantel.
Kenna was going to deny his words but as he approached the bed she couldn’t find her voice. Her hand went from her hair to her throat. “Rhys!”
“Yes.”
“But I thought—”
“I know. You thought I was Nick.”
“You let me go on.”
“I wanted to hear about your dream. You’ve never told me about it before.”
Kenna pulled the comforter to her neck. “And I don’t want to discuss it with you now. Why did you come here? What do you want?”
“I thought that was obvious,” said Rhys. His steely gaze was partially shuttered by his lashes but he could see Kenna clearly and she looked incredibly lovely to him. He wanted the right to sit beside her, thread his fingers through her long fall of red-gold hair, and kiss the uncertain frown playing on her lips. He wanted to feel the fullness of her breasts in the palm of his hand and touch his mouth to the invitation of their hardened tips. It was too easy to imagine lying beside her, legs and arms twined in the aftermath of loving. Her head would rest on his shoulder and her slender, curious fingers would trace a narrow path across his chest, his abdomen, and finally lower where she would find him ready to love her again. His body responded to the tenor of his thoughts, swelling and tightening and aching. He would have given his soul for a like response from Kenna, but he saw only fear and quietly he cursed her and then himself.
Kenna shrank from the resentment she saw in Rhys as he stepped nearer. His body was corded with tension and a muscle leaped in his clenched jaw. Though she wanted to escape, she felt drawn to him, powerless to look away.
“How can I convince you?” Rhys asked, drawing up a wing chair and sitting on its very edge. He leaned forward, folding his hands on his knees. “I mean no harm to you, Kenna.”
She opened her mouth to tell him there was nothing he could do, yet the words she heard herself speak were vastly different. “If only you did not glower so. You are always so put out with me.”
“Am I?” He smiled slightly and relaxed. “Perhaps I am. But then there is a measure of self-defense in that guise. You are always angry with me.”
“I don’t think it’s anger.”
“What then? No, don’t answer. You think you hate me. Mayhap someday I will argue that hatred is not so deliberate as you practice it. I have never known anyone to use it as a shield the way you do. It makes one wonder what would happen if you were to discard it.”
Kenna could think of no reply to make to that, so she returned the conversation to his purpose in her room. “Your presence here is not obvious to me. Does Nicky or Victorine know you’re here?”
