Kenna followed the lead of the men around her although in her heart she doubted if the thrashing sail could ever be tamed. But it was just as the self-appointed leader said. WhenCaraseashifted downward she shook off the wind as if brushing aside a bothersome pest and her sails flattened. Kenna reached with the others and grasped the lines.
“Heave again!”
Their combined efforts rolled the sail less than a yard before the ship swung upward and wind filled the canvas again. Kenna thought she would suffocate as the billowing sail enfolded her body. She held onto the line with white-knuckled determination and no small amount of strength born of fear. At the next lull the order came again and she heaved with all of her might. It seemed an eternity before the final demand on her strength was made.
“Once more! Heave lively, men!”
Kenna pulled on the wet line with everything she had and the sail was furled. Quickly, before they lost it again, five pairs of hands tore at the sail and lashed it to the yardarm. Euphoria lent Kenna the stamina to scramble down the rigging behind the others. On the mizzenmast and foremast more sails were being lashed. TheCaraseaput her shoulder to the sea, riding in the trough between the waves as secure as a babe in arms.
Kenna jumped down on the deck, amazed at the difference in the ship’s motion now that the sails were secured. Someone slapped her on the back, nearly knocking her to her knees.
“Damn good job, laddie.”
Kenna grinned rather stupidly as she faltered on her feet. Her shirt was molded to her breasts and she pulled it away as she straightened. “You too,” she said hoarsely. Rain continued to blind her, stinging her face and shoulders. Someone else brushed past her and gave her a congratulating shake on her arm.
A familiar voice rose above the lashing wind. “We can go below now! There’s nothing else to be done. She’ll ride this out!”
Kenna looked up, startled to hear Rhys beside her. “Rhys!”
Rhys slid a little on the slippery deck before he was able to halt his forward motion. “Kenna!” He turned and astonishment etched his taut features as he came face to face with his wife. “What the hell are you doing up here?”
“I fell out of bed!” she shouted back as if it explained everything. “Did you see, Rhys?” She pointed at the mainsail secured on the yardarm. “I helped do that!” Her eyes traveled upward to the spot on the rigging where she had been perched. How was it that the height seemed more dizzying now than when she had been clutching at the lines? When she faced Rhys again she felt lightheaded. “Oh my!” she said giddily.
“Kenna?” Rhys stepped forward.
Kenna was not certain if the ship pitched or if her knees buckled. It mattered not. She fell into Rhys’s strong arms in a dead faint….
* * *
Kenna was in the gallery at Dunnelly again but this time she was not hiding behind the sofa, nor was she thirteen any longer. She spun around as the door opened and her beloved highwayman entered the room. When he shut the door and leaned against it Kenna ran to him. Rhys did not hesitate to fold her in his embrace. He touched her upturned face with his fingertips and caressed the length of her back before he kissed her full on the mouth.
“You make a lovely Cleopatra,” he said, teasing the blunt black ends of her shoulder-length wig. “But I prefer your own hair. This is rather too dark for your fairness.”
“Silly! I am not Cleo. I’m a highwayman, as you are.”
“Look again. It is an odd sort of rogue who shimmers when he walks.”
Kenna drew back and looked down at herself. Amazement struck her every feature. She was indeed wearing a close-fitting, narrow gown of spangled gold. There were sandals on her feet. She touched her forehead and could feel the gold leaf circlet that held her coal black wig in place. On her bare arms were bracelets, fashioned like snakes, that were fitted above her elbows. She glanced up at Rhys and bewilderment etched her smile. “How odd,” she said slowly. “I am certain I intended to be a highwayman this evening.”
Rhys’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed. “No matter. I much prefer this guise. Come. How may this rogue be of service to the Egyptian queen?”
Kenna slid her regal arms about Rhys’s neck. “You may kiss me, sir. And go on kissing me until I call a halt.”
“My pleasure,” he murmured as his lips sought hers.
Kenna was pulled against his hard body and clutched his shoulders for support. His kiss was demanding and hungry. His chest offered her breasts all the comfort of sheer rock. Kenna closed her eyes and pressed against him, trying to make him yield to her softer contours.
When her eyes fluttered open she was no longer in the gallery but had been magically transported to the cave. She lay flat against a damp stone wall, gripping its sheer face so that she might hear everything going on in the chamber beyond. Kenna wanted to leave the cave and return to the safety of the gallery but she could not turn away. She was compelled against her will to go through the same motions she always had…
* * *
Rhys touched Kenna’s forehead, brushing back a wayward curl that had fallen over her brow. She moved restlessly beside him, tossing and turning, finding no comfort in any position. Rhys wrung out the damp cloth he had in the basin on his right and bathed her perspiring face.
Kenna had come out of the faint shortly after Rhys had put her in bed. She was so pale and appeared so vulnerable that he hadn’t the heart to upbraid her for this latest escapade. She was safe, all of a piece, and it was enough for now. She fell asleep shortly after Rhys helped her strip off her wet clothes. He slipped in beside her and theCarasearocked him to sleep with Kenna curled securely against him. When he shut his eyes he was certain a veritable tidal wave couldn’t wake him, but he hadn’t counted on Kenna clawing at his chest or kneeing him in the groin. Pain brought him sharply awake and his initial effort to rouse Kenna was unsuccessful. That was when he grabbed the basin and began bathing her face. Now he wondered if he should try to wake her again.
He touched her shoulder and said her name with gentle insistence. She said something but Rhys could neither make out the words nor be sure she was really responding to him.
“It’s a dream, Kenna. A dream.” He drew the cloth over her neck. “Wake up, darling.” Droplets of water trickled on her flushed cheeks, mixing with the tears that were squeezing out from under her closed lids. Rhys put the basin on the floor and dropped the cloth in it. He picked Kenna up and embraced her as she began to sob uncontrollably. Repeating her name in a soft litany, he rocked her in his arms.
