He felt the urge to lash back at her, to make her heart ache as much as his did, but he found he couldn’t bear to do that. There had been far too much grief already this night. He had no idea if Jean Paul even lived at the moment, he only knew that by now they would have reached the Mistral—that he and Jessie, too, must reach the Mistral. He desperately needed her help. “Jess...” God, he loathed the thought of telling her. “Ben was shot tonight.”
Her expression transformed before his eyes, from fiery abhorrence to liquid fear. “Shot?”
“Aye... and Jean Paul, too.”
“The same Jean Paul?”
Christian nodded slowly, his jaw taut. “Aye.”
“Is—” Her voice broke. She shook her head, choking on her words. “Ben...”
Christian knew instinctively what she was asking. “He was alive when last I saw him,” he told her, trying to be merciful, but truthful. “I’ve no idea how he fares just now.”
Jessie’s eyes glistened with tears as she stared up at him. His anguish deepened as he acknowledged her tormented expression. “If I release you,” he asked softly, averting his gaze momentarily, “will you promise to sit quietly?”
She nodded dumbly, and Christian removed himself from atop her at once. Comfort was there within his grasp—within her arms—but they were not alone, nor did he feel she’d welcome his embrace. She sat slowly, hugging her knees to her breast, staring numbly into the darkness. Unsure of what to say to ease her, Christian retrieved her cloak, tossing it about her shoulders.
“How?”
She couldn’t seem to bear to look at him.
“You’ll have to ask Ben,” he told her softly. “If he wishes you to know, he’ll tell you himself.”
Jessie nodded glumly, and Christian wondered if he was making a mistake involving her.
Could she be trusted?
Though she’d betrayed him once already, the truth was that he had little choice in the matter: Jean Paul needed someone to nurse him, Ben, too, and Jessie, inexperienced as she might be, was all that was available to him. He could trust no one else—sad state of affairs, but these were treacherous times.
He told himself she had every reason to keep silent... for Ben’s sake. And judging by the sorrowful look upon her face, he had nothing to fear; she cared for her cousin.
The question was... how much?
His gut twisted at the thought of the two of them together.
Night sounds filled the air. Frogs and crickets that only moments before had been silent croaked and trilled so loudly that their din overwhelmed all other sound.
Hugging herself against the crisp night air, Jessie turned to meet Christian’s gaze. He was watching her with an odd intensity, his dark hair gleaming in the moonlight. His jaw taut,and his mouth set determinedly. However much she loathed him, now was not the time for it, she decided.
Ben needed her.
“What of Jean Paul?”
“Alive,” he revealed with a shrug that attempted to conceal his pain. “I really don’t know.” With a glance toward McCarney, he shook his head and repeated softly, “I really don’t know.”
The Mistral was anchored offshore, far enough that there was no light to guide them, yet close enough that they dared not use a lantern for fear of discovery.
The faint glow of a single lantern illumined one of the portholes of the Mistral, and by that light, Jessie could make out the rope ladder that had been left for their use.
McCarney maneuvered the skiff alongside it, and with a curt nod and a wave of his hand, Christian motioned for her to climb it. She hesitated and he asked her, “Perhaps you’d like to remain with McCarney, instead?”
That veiled warning sent Jessie scrambling up the ladder at once. God’s truth, but she had no wish to be alone with that man ever again! Certainly he’d not needed to employ such appalling violence to gain her compliance. He might have simply tried explaining Ben’s predicament. She would have flown to his aid.
She reached the top rung and started to feel Christian’s hand suddenly upon her, steadying her until she was safely over the railing. She’d not realized he was following so close behind. Even as she planted her feet firmly upon the decking, he heaved himself over the side after her. He said not a word, guided her instead, toward the feeble light belowdecks. He led her within a cabin at the midway point along the dusky passage.
Clasping her cloak together, she froze upon entering the room, tendrils of fear clutching at her heart. Two cots occupied the small cabin. Jean Paul lay so very still upon one, Ben upon the other. Christian at once went to his father’s side, his profileas rigid as steel as he stooped over his still form. His jaw twitched, only slightly, though enough to reveal his pain. Jessie’s heart ached for him.
Taking a deep breath, she followed within. Ben turned to face her at once.
