“It’s all right,” she lied, not wanting to be demanding of his time. “I understand you have responsibilities.”
Did she have to be so gracious? The muscles in his back bunched and he realized he was in danger of instigating a fight with her simply to ease his tension. “Give me the sponge,” he said abruptly. “I can wash myself.”
Kenna tried not to show her hurt. What had she done wrong? She gave Rhys the sponge and scooted back from the tub, curling her legs beneath her. Out of habit she reached for her hair, trying to draw a strand of it through her mouth as she had done as a child when she was worried or upset. The cropped curls thwarted her and she sighed.
“It will grow back,” Rhys said.
“I suppose so.” Her hand dropped to her side. “I do not mind the shortness of it as much as I mind the color. Mason ordered Sweet to chop it but it was Mrs. Miller who dyed it. I couldn’t stop them.”
“Of course you couldn’t,” he replied. “But I’ll wager you gave them pause about doing it to someone else.”
Kenna smiled faintly. “I hope so. I fought as much as I was able. I like to think they could not have done it without the drug.”
Rhys lifted one leg and began soaping his calf. “Tell me,” he said casually. “I know Sweet and Mrs. Miller, but who is Mason?”
Kenna stared unabashedly at Rhys’s leg until she saw amusement in the lift of his lips. She dropped her gaze quickly and studied the pattern in the carpet instead. “He’s the man who abducted me from Robinson’s. Didn’t you know?”
“Mason Deverell,” Rhys said slowly, tasting the name on his tongue. “It must be.” He rinsed one leg and began on the other. “No, I didn’t know his full name. I knew of Sweet. There was another one who helped, wasn’t there? Jeb Thompson?”
“Yes. I suppose that’s the one. I only heard his first name mentioned.”
Rhys was thoughtful. “They were very certain of themselves, weren’t they? It didn’t occur to them that you could ever name your abductors.”
Kenna nodded. “Mason was the one who was certain. He was the leader. It was his idea, I think, to take me to Mrs. Miller’s.” She shivered slightly at the fleeting memories of her time there. “Who do you think sent Mason and the others to the ale house?”
“I don’t know, Kenna.”
“Do you really think that somehow I know the answer.”
“Yes.” He stretched out an arm and touched her face, willing her to look at him. “Yes, I really think you do. But as long as you are with me, as long as those at Dunnelly think you’re dead, you’re safe. It doesn’t matter if you ever stumble upon the truth, or even if you believe me. The only thing of importance is that you are protected now.”
Kenna wanted to hold his hand to her face but she was afraid he would pull away. She leaned away from his touch and got to her feet, not realizing that it was she who had pulled away instead. She hung up her coat in the wardrobe and found her nightgown. “I hadn’t realized everyone thinks I’m dead. It doesn’t seem right somehow. Not everyone at Dunnelly is guilty in this.”
While Kenna’s back was turned Rhys got out of the bath and toweled himself dry quickly. “It cannot be helped,” he said, shrugging into his robe, “It would be dangerous to trust any one person.”
Kenna turned just as Rhys was belting his robe and a warm flush spread across her cheeks. “But Nick…” Her voice died as Rhys shook his head firmly and his mouth thinned warningly.
“Not even Nick must know.”
“It couldn’t be Nick,” she said, more to herself than to Rhys. “He’s my brother. He loves me.”
Rhys crossed the room and stood in front of Kenna. His large hands gripped her upper arms as if he would shake her, then there was a hesitation and they simply glided to her wrists and held her loosely. “He is my dearest friend, Kenna. It is not that I don’t want to trust him, but simply that I cannot. Love is no indicator of innocence here. Someone wants you dead.”
“Please, just hold me,” she said, a catch in her voice. “Hold me. I have never been so alone. I might as well be dead.”
This time he did shake her and then held her so tightly he could feel the beat of her heart against his chest. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.”
She shuddered against him, caught in his warm embrace, and tried to think of nothing save the security of his arms as he rocked her gently and murmured her name in her ear. Her hands were trapped between their bodies and as his strength seeped into her she gradually pushed him away. “I’m sorry,” she said, recovering a measure of her reserve. “I’m being selfish. I don’t mean to burden you.”
Rhys’s hands slipped inside his dressing gown’s pockets. In the left one he felt the gold band he had given Kenna and pocketed when it fell off her finger once too often. He wondered if this was the time to give it to her. “You’re no burden, Kenna, and I never want you to think you can’t turn to me. I understand you feel alone, but you’re not.” Rhys decided to wait to return the ring to her.
“I shouldn’t have said that. I know better. Thank you.” She picked up her nightgown from the bed and twisted it uncertainly in her hands. “If it weren’t for you I would still be at Mrs. Miller’s.”
He had no desire to pursue that topic. She obviously did not realize what had waited for her in Tremont’s bed. Rhys watched her turn the nightgown over in her hands and a brief smile touched his face. “Turn around so I can play the lady’s maid. How did you manage to dress yourself?”
Kenna turned obligingly, bending her head forward so he could reach the uppermost fasteners. “It was difficult. I merely persevered.” She felt Rhys’s fingers touch her bare skin, pause, then begin working on the back of her gown with brisk efficiency. She would not allow herself to dwell on how many times he had performed a similar service for other women. “Thank you,” she said politely when he had finished.
“Would you like me to ask for fresh bath water? It’s a mix of rain and salt water, but it serves the purpose well enough.” He pointed to the copper tub. “I confess that was meant for you, but since you weren’t here when it arrived I was not going to let it go to waste.”
