“Then why?”
After a brief pause, he said, “Because it seemed the best way to protect you.” He could not lay himself open to more hurt at Kenna’s hands. “When I found you at Polly’s, everyone at Dunnelly was already mourning your death. Taking you back there would have only meant another attempt on your life. I had to go to America and it struck me that your safety depended upon you being with me.”
Kenna felt a heaviness in her breast as she listened. He talked of protection and safety, never once of love. It was as Victorine suspected, Rhys was sacrificing his own happiness. An image came to Kenna of another woman. She was petite, with platinum curls and an abundance of feminine curves, not so different from Victorine. Vaguely she could recall Rhys holding this woman in his arms, kissing her full on the mouth. There was a sadness in their parting and Kenna wondered about her, wondered if this perhaps was the woman Rhys loved.
Suddenly Kenna wanted to be alone, to think, to plan. She could not bear a marriage to Rhys that was prompted out of some misguided noble kindness. “Could we speak of this another time?” she asked. “It’s difficult to manage so much in my mind.”
Rhys supposed that it was, but he hardly rejoiced at Kenna’s withdrawal. He stood and pushed back his chair, placing his hands firmly on the top rung. “Before I go topside, Kenna, there is something else you must know.”
She raised her face to him. “What?” Surely everything had been said.
“There will be no divorce.” Before she had time to respond to his announcement Rhys left the cabin.
How could he have known the direction of her thoughts and then put a period to them? What sort of marriage could they possibly have? It was hardly one of convenience, for it convenienced no one. Kenna thought rather forlornly that she was bringing nothing save trouble to this union. She stared at her naked hands. Rhys had not even given her a ring. If she had been drugged when she accepted his offer, he must have been foxed when he made it.
Dinner was a very quiet affair. Neither of them mentioned what had passed at lunch. Kenna could not recall feeling more miserable and Rhys took her reticence as a sign of her unhappiness.
“I see you found the material and fashion book,” he said, lifting his chin in the direction of the bed. A bolt of pale blue muslin lay on top. Scattered next to it were scissors, needles, pins, and thread.
“Yes. It was kind of you to think of me.”
Her stilted reply bothered Rhys and he wished he were not so sensitive to her every word. A simple thank you on her part would have sufficed. She had a way of expressing herself that made him feel as if his thoughtfulness surprised her.
“The material is lovely,” she added a moment later when he made no response.
“I’m glad you like it. The modistes were certain they could not fail to please you.”
Kenna felt deflated. She had hoped he had chosen the fabric himself. What a pea-goose she was. She came out of her self-pitying contemplation when Rhys’s chair scraped jerkily against the carpet.
“I’m going to find Captain Johnson,” he said. “There are some matters I must attend.”
Kenna gave him a brief nod, biting down the questions that came to her lips. Was he going to climb the rigging again? Could she walk with him on deck? Why was he seeing the captain? What sort of matters did he concern himself with? Could she help? Above all, where did she fit in his life?
After the kitchen assistant cleared away the remains of their dinner, Kenna laid out the blue muslin again and began cutting the pattern she had chosen. She worked on the dress for two hours before the confinement of the cabin became more than she could bear. Taking out her redingote, she draped it over her shoulders and went on deck.
The night was clear and colder than she first imagined, but she was determined to stay topside even if her fingers and nose turned blue. She glanced around, looking for Rhys, and when she couldn’t find him she decided to stroll the deck on her own. It was not long before she had two escorts, one on each arm, and several men following her at a respectful distance. Her entourage was unfailingly polite and Kenna realized they were starving to hear a woman’s voice and share her company. She chatted gaily with them, forgetting her own concerns as they let her hold the great wheel of the ship and teased her about sailing the ship into the treacherous North Atlantic icebergs. She asked about their families and their homes, about life in Boston, and she listened thoughtfully to their replies. Without consciously setting out to do so, Kenna conquered the men with her genuine interest in everything that touched their lives in America. When she finally insisted she had to return to her cabin their long faces told her clearly how much their time together meant to them.
The companionway outside her cabin was crowded with men bidding her good evening and Kenna had to slip quickly through the doorway before she found herself inviting them in for tea. She turned away from the door when she heard them shuffling off and smiled to herself.
“I take it you’ve finished holding court,” Rhys said dryly. The secretive, dreamy smile on her face taunted him.
Kenna gasped softly at the sound of his voice, never suspecting until he spoke that he was even in the cabin. Rhys was sitting in a copper hip bath near the stove calmly soaping his chest and shoulders while his head rested against the rim of the tub. His eyes were nearly closed though Kenna could see he was watching her. She wondered what he was thinking. There was a weariness inherent in his posture that tugged at Kenna and she walked over to the tub while the mood to offer some small comfort was upon her. She took off her coat and set it on the back of the chair, then knelt beside the bath.
She held out her hand for the sponge. “I’ll do your back,” she said.
Rhys’s expression turned wary. Could he stand it if she touched him? Could he stand it if she didn’t? He gave her the sponge and sat up a little, leaning forward so she could reach his back.
Kenna inched forward on her knees, avoiding Rhys’s eyes as she took the sponge. She dipped it in the water then squeezed it over his shoulders, watching the rivulets of warm water run over his smooth back. “I wasn’t holding court, you know,” she said as she touched the sponge to the top of his spine. “I went on deck to look for you.”
“I was in the captain’s cabin.”
“I realized that later. The men…they were very kind. I didn’t think it would be wrong to speak with them.”
The gentle circles she drew on his back were sweet torture. His eyes closed completely. “It wasn’t wrong.”
Kenna let out her breath slowly. “I’m glad. I thought you were angry.”
Jealous as hell, he thought. Didn’t she know? “No, I’m not angry. I shouldn’t have left you alone for so long.”
