“You had better be careful or you will not only have a sore hand tomorrow but a hangover as well.” Rhys moved it from her reach after he took a deep drink, then splashed some on the stitched hand for good measure.
“I suppose I just sit here like this with my palm up and watch it heal?”
“That would be rather inconvenient, as well as boring, now wouldn’t it,” he said as he returned to the cabinet where he kept bandages and Dover Powder, which she would likely need tomorrow.
“I will have you know that I have a very high tolerance for alcohol,” Tempest insisted as he wrapped a bandage about her hand.
“You do?” He chuckled.
“Yes!”
She was already tipsy and would likely pass out before he was finished. At least she would be oblivious to the pain in her hand.
“Are you done?” she asked as he secured the end of the bandage.
“I am,” Rhys answered as he put everything away and cleaned up the table. The only thing remaining was the bottle of rum, of which he took another drink.
“We should go out to the terrasse,” she suggested. “It is much nicer outside and we can watch the sunset. Have you seen the sunset Rhys. It is quiet breathtaking.”
“I have seen it nearly every night.” From his hammock.
“Then we should watch it tonight, together.”
“If you insist.” There was no point in arguing with Tempest when she was slightly inebriated.
The girls had waited on the terrasse, and their worried eyes darted from him to Tempest.
“It was only a cut to her hand. I stitched it.”
Each of them gasped.
“She also drank rum in the process to help with pain.”
“We are going to watch the sunset,” she told her sisters.
“I will see about preparing supper,” Nicoll offered then sent her younger sisters into the hut. “Tempest tends to be maudlin when she has drunk more than one should.”
Rhys pulled back in surprise. “She has gotten drunk?” Nothing could have surprised him more.
“Not often and certainly not drunk enough to be stumbling about and slurring words, but when she has drunk only a little more than she should, she grows regretful and takes on blame and there is no reasoning with her.” Nicoll sighed and retreated into the hut.
A sappy, teary inebriated Tempest was not what he was expecting this evening, but it could also prove to be interesting.
She wandered over to the stairs and took a seat and Rhys joined her as they both looked out over the sea and the sun as it was nearly touching the water.
“If it had not been for me, they would still be alive.”
“Who would be alive?” he asked.
“The sailors, Captain Goodard and Cornelius,” she answered. “Had I not been on that ship with my sisters there would have been room in the ship’s boat.”
“There was not enough room for all of them,” he pointed out. There was barely enough room for Tempest and her sisters, and him if he needed to join them in an escape, as Cornelius had.
“My sisters and I used all the seats and they went down with the ship and all because I had wanted to holiday with my uncle,” she continued as if she had not even heard him. “If I had not insisted, if I had not wanted…” She shook her head and sighed.
“What did you want?” Rhys asked quietly.
Oh, she should not have drunk so much rum, and Tempest knew that she should stop talking and just watch the sun set, because Rhys did not need to know about her regrets. She also knew that when she drank spirits she tended to share too much.
