“Yes.” Her breath caught on a harsh sob. “I cannot forget how he looked at me. There was so much grief in his eyes that I was paralyzed by the enormity of what I had done. I used to believe Victorine diverted his attention so the lantern light was knocked out, but I know it was me. Do you think this is what I don’t want to remember? That I am the one who killed my father?”
“Kenna! No! You’re wrong.” Rhys let go of her hand and cupped the side of her face, brushing away salty tears with the pad of his thumb. “You did not kill your father. Think back. You told me much the same thing the night I came to your bedchamber at Dunnelly. Remember? You mistook me for Nick on that occasion. There is something else you do not want to recall, something more painful perhaps than your father’s grief at seeing you in the cave.”
“I don’t know what it is, Rhys! I don’t!”
“Who is the man who stood at Victorine’s side, Kenna?”
“I don’t know,” she said miserably. She closed her eyes tightly and turned her head side to side in negation. “I can’t remember. The lantern goes out. It’s dark. So dark! I can’t see anything. If only it would stay lighted longer. I would see his face clearly. But I can’t see it now, Rhys. Don’t make me try to see it now.”
“All right. That’s enough.” He slid off his elbow and put his head next to hers. One arm embraced her shoulders and his even voice calmed her. “You don’t have to remember anything. I told you, you are safe here and I meant it. It’s all in the past.”
“Then why must I go on reliving it?” she asked. “I want in to be done.”
The only answer Rhys had was one she didn’t want to hear. He doubted she would ever be free of her nightmare until she knew with certainty who murdered her father. He wisely kept his counsel. A short time later her question was forgotten as she fell asleep in the security of his arms.
The pleasant, familiar aroma of coffee woke Kenna. She opened her eyes and saw Rhys sitting at the table, drinking from a steaming mug while he read the captain’s log book. Some movement she made must have caught his eye because he looked up and smiled at her. He raised the cup slightly.
“Would you like some? There’s plenty.”
“Please. It smells delicious.” She threw back the covers and went to the wardrobe to find her dressing gown. “I thought you would be on deck,” she said, tying her sash.
Rhys handed her a cup. “Careful, it’s hot.”
She sipped it gingerly and made a face. “I don’t think I shall get used to this. I much prefer tea.” She glanced out the window and saw that the sun had barely lifted above the horizon. The sky was as sharp as blue crystal and without a single cloud to bear evidence of last night’s storm. “I had no idea it was so early.”
Rhys laughed at Kenna’s wistful sidelong look at the bed. “Put it out of your mind. If you truly want to begin learning at my side, it starts at daybreak. You had only a few minutes more sleep left before I rolled you out of bed myself.”
“Brute. You would have done it, too. And no doubt taken pleasure in it.”
“I’m not about to deny it and have you call me a liar,” he said pleasantly. “I admit there would have been a certain amount of satisfaction in it after last night.”
Kenna paled as she lowered herself into a chair. “I’m sorry about the nightmare, Rhys, I couldn’t help—”
Rhys’s gray eyes widened in alarm. “Kenna! I wasn’t referring to your dream. Have I given you cause to think I would not let it rest?”
“No,” she said guiltily.
“Well then, what I was referring to was your presence on deck, or should I say, above deck?”
“Oh, that.”
“Oh, that,” he mocked. “Thatlikely caused me to lose a score of years. What possessed you to do such a dangerous thing? And don’t tell me again that you fell out of bed. One event does not necessarily lead to the other.”
Her chin lifted a notch. “Of course one does not lead to the other,” she said loftily. “I am not such a foolish chit that I would climb that rigging because I fell out of bed. I was on deck because I fell out of bed. I was in the rigging because at the time there didn’t seem to be any choice but that I help.”
“I vow I am an old man, growing older by the second.” Rhys sighed, lifting his eyes heavenward above the rim of his coffee mug. “I may have understood that explanation ten or more years ago when a certain Miss Scrapegrace offered it so charmingly, but I believe time has addled my brain. More clearly, if you please. And more slowly.”
Kenna took a quick gulp of her coffee to brace herself for a full explanation, then had to fan her open mouth with her hand.
“I warned you it was hot.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Strive not to always be right. It could become frighteningly boring.”
“Point taken. Now your explanation, please.”
“Very well. I woke when I fell out of bed.”
Rhys feigned dismay, shaking his head. “That effectively puts a period to my sleepwalking theory.”
