“Pure selfishness on my part. I only had to ask myself how things would be different without you.”
“Then I thank you for being so selfish.” Kenna brought her head up and searched Rhys’s face. “I’m going to be a very good wife to you, Rhys. I know why you married me and I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you don’t regret it.”
Rhys’s brows drew together. She knew why he married her? She knew he loved her? He hesitated a moment, hoping she would say she loved him. When she said nothing else he realized his expectations were too great. He was already regretting that she knew how he felt. Nothing would be served if she made promises because she was grateful to him. He wanted more than that from her. He said the only thing he could. “Just be you, sprite, and I doubt I shall regret anything.”
Sprite! He was ridiculous! She was talking about being his wife and he was treating her like a four-year-old again. It was not to be borne! Kenna could not get off his lap quickly enough. She walked away from him, her arms hugging her middle, and missed the look of pure bewilderment crossing Rhys’s features.
“Kenna?”
She spun around, hands on her hips. “I’m Kenna now, am I?”
Rhys shook his head as if to clear it. “What in the devil’s name are you talking about?”
She stamped her foot. “Do not be clever!” she snapped. “The devil’s name has nothing to do with this. It is my name that is in question.”
Rhys’s eyes widened. He could not make any sense of her irritation but he saw that it was real enough. “Perhaps if you repeat the question,” he suggested.
“There isn’t any question, at least in my mind. I do not pretend to understand what goes on in yours.”
Before Rhys could form a response there was a knock at the door. “Thank God,” he said feelingly, welcoming the interruption. He told their visitor to come in as Kenna sat down on the window seat and picked up her sewing.
The cook’s assistant came into the cabin carrying a large tray. “O’Malley sent me to clear the table if you’ve finished.”
Rhys motioned to the remains of their meal. “All done, Hank.”
The room was quiet except for the occasional clatter of the dishes as the helper stacked them on the tray. Kenna was stabbing at the hem of her gown and Rhys was leaning back in his chair, deep in thought. Hank could not get out of the cabin quickly enough.
“Cap’n says to tell you to secure everything, Mr. Canning,” he said in a rush as he backed out the door. “This squall is going to get worse afore it gets better.”
Rhys nodded shortly and looked past Kenna to the darkening sky outside. His glance returned to Kenna. “What aboutthissquall? Is it going to get worse before it gets better?”
She shrugged. “I’m sure I couldn’t say.”
Rhys pushed himself out of his chair and crossed the room to stand in front of Kenna. Without any warning he took the material from her hand and threw it on the seat.
He grasped her upper arms and pulled her to her feet, then put one arm beneath her thighs and swung her in his arms.
Kenna had no choice but to grasp Rhys’s shoulders else risk being dropped to the floor. “What are you doing?” she demanded as Rhys carried her over to the bed.
“You heard Hank. The captain says to secure everything. And you, my dear Kenna, are the only thing worth securing.” He tipped her out of his arms onto the bed. While Kenna struggled to sit up and sputtered some sort of unintelligible protest, Rhys locked the cabin door and turned back the wicks on the lantern lights. The cabin, the furniture, even Rhys, dimmed into shadow.
Kenna watched Rhys warily as he approached the bed. She noticed that though the ship was rolling with greater force than it had even minutes before, Rhys’s steps were sure, his balance faultless. “Rhys?” Her voice had lost its confident quality. “What are you doing now?” His brief laugh, totally lacking in humor, unnerved her. She scrambled back toward the wall.
“Even in this poor light it should be obvious. I’m taking off my clothes.” He drew his linen shirt over his head and carelessly tossed it on a chair.
“But why? It is not much past eight. You surely don’t intend to go to sleep now.”
“You’re right. I don’t intend to go to sleep.”
“But…” Her thoughts faded to nothingness as Rhys bent closer and she caught the flinty gleam in his eyes. His trousers and socks went the way of his shirt and when he sat down on the bed he was naked.
“Come here, Kenna.”
She didn’t, couldn’t, move.
Rhys could, and did. He caught Kenna’s arm and pulled her away from the wall while he moved backward on the bed. His hand made a fist in her hair, tightened, and drew her head up so that her parted lips were near his mouth. She was breathing shallowly, clearly frightened by what she did not understand. He laid one palm between her breasts and felt the wild fluttering of her heart.
“Why are you so angry with me?” she whispered.
