suppose I would want to poison you?'
'What sort of a monster do you think I am? Do you fear and hate me so much?'
'No. No, that is… I know you have been kind to me. But…' She drew in a breath, and he could see that she regretted her foolish accusation. 'I didn't say poison. I just know that I sleep too deeply, and awake still groggy. My head is always heavy; I never feel alert.' Her head swayed a tiny pattern of unsteadiness although her feet remained planted in one spot.
He knit his brows in grave concern. 'Did you strike your head when you fell overboard? Is there a tender spot?'
'No, that is, I don't think so…' She set her hands to her head and pressed gravely.
'Allow me,' he insisted, and pushing the chair back, gestured that she should take his place. She moved stiffly and sat very straight as he set his hands to her head. He stood in front of her so she could see his face as his fingertips gently explored her head. With feigned casualness, he loosed her hair, and searched her skull. He frowned to himself. 'Sometimes a blow to the back of the neck or on the spine…' he muttered thoughtfully.
Then he stepped behind her and pushed aside the sleek black flow of her hair. He leaned close to her and traced the line of her spine down her neck to her collar. She sat submissive before him, her head bowed, yet he could feel the thrumming of tension in her muscles. Fear? Apprehension? Perhaps, anticipation? Her hair held a trace of some fragrance, but the shirt smelled of Wintrow. The combination was intoxicating. He let his fingers slowly trail down her spine. 'Any pain?' he asked concernedly. He halted his fingers at the waistband of her trousers but did not remove his hand.
'A little,' she admitted, making him smile at his good fortune. 'In the middle of my back.'
'Here?' He walked his fingers gently up her spine until she nodded. 'Well, then. That might be your problem. Have you been dizzy at all? Fuzzy vision?'
'A bit,' she conceded reluctantly. She lifted her head. 'But I still think that there is more to my sleepiness.'
'I think not,' he contradicted her gently. His hand still rested on her back. 'Unless…' he paused until he was certain she hung on his words. 'I am so sorry to suggest this. I am sure you know what I speak of when I mention a bond with the liveship. She senses my moods, and shares her own with me. Perchance, if the ship is angry with you, or hostile toward you, if she wishes you ill-there, I am sorry I even suggested such a thing.'
He had intentionally reinforced her apprehension, but her face had paled beyond his expectations. He would have to be more careful; he did not want to take all the fight out of her. A little struggle might add piquancy to the conquest. He smiled reassuringly. 'Eat something. Regain your strength.'
'Perhaps you are right,' she conceded huskily. He gestured at the food and she turned back to the table. As she took a bite of food from the spoon that had recently been in his own mouth, he felt a sharp jab of lust such as he had never experienced before. The intensity amazed him and it was all he could do to keep from gasping.
THE FOOD WAS EXCELLENT, BUT THE PIRATE WATCHED HER EAT SO INTENTLY that she could not relax. Neither, however, could she wake up all the way. She sipped at the wine, and almost immediately, her vision doubled. It went away when she blinked, but she was suddenly too tired to eat any more. She set her spoon down. It was so difficult to hold her thoughts still. A word from Kennit could send them drifting away. But there was something important, something she was missing-
'Please,' he said solicitously. 'Try to finish your meal. I know you are feeling unwell, but food is what you need to recover.'
She managed a polite smile. 'I cannot.' She cleared her throat and tried to focus her thoughts. His words kept carrying her ideas away. When he had first come in, there was something very important she had wanted to ask him… as important as wanting to get out of the room and speak with her ship. Brashen! Pulling him back into her mind seemed to steady her thoughts. 'Brashen,' she said aloud, and felt she gained strength from just saying his name. 'Captain Trell. Why has he not called on me, or taken me back on board the Paragon7.'
'Well. I am not sure what I should say to that.' There was deep concern in Kennit's voice. She had to turn her head to see him, and it made the cabin rock. The dizziness was back. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth.
'What do you mean?'
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 'I thought you would have seen it from the water. I am so sorry to tell you this, my dear. The serpents did great damage to the Paragon. I'm afraid the ship went down. We tried to save those we could, but the serpents are so voracious… Captain Trell went down with his ship. There was nothing we could do. It was a miracle we were able to save you.' He patted her shoulder gravely. 'I am afraid this ship must become your home again. Now, have no fears. I will take care of you.'
The words swept past her in a flood. Their meaning reached her mind after the sounds of them came to her ears. When she understood what he had said, she shot to her feet. At least, she thought she had. Then she was standing, her hands braced on the tabletop to keep from falling. She hated the dizziness because it was distracting her from a pain so great it could only be death. She could not comprehend its source and then she knew that her world had ended. She had gone on alone without it, or it had somehow left her behind. Brashen. Amber. Clef. Haff. Poor old Lop. Paragon, dear mad Paragon. All dead, on her foolish errand. She'd brought them all to their deaths. She opened her mouth but the agony was such she could not even weep.
'Here, here now,' Kennit was saying, trying to help her to her bunk. She had forgotten how to make her knees bend, and then they suddenly buckled. She half-fell, banging her ribs on the edge of the bunk, and then scrabbled into the bed that had so often been her refuge. 'Brashen. Brashen. Brashen.' She could not stop saying his name, but her throat was so tight that no sound was coming out. The room swayed around her and she was choking on the word. Perhaps she could die with his name caught in her throat.
Kennit suddenly sat down beside her. He hauled her to a sitting position. She leaned on his chest and he put his arms around her. 'Here. I am here. There, there, there. A terrible shock, I know. How clumsy of me to have told you this way. How alone you must feel. But I am here. Here. Take some wine.'
She sipped at the cup he held to her mouth. She did not want as much as she took, but the cup would not go away and she seemed to have no determination left. Kennit spoke gently to her all the while he tipped the cup against her mouth. When the wine was gone, he set the cup aside and held her. Her face was against the fine lace of his shirtfront. He stroked her hair and rocked her as if she were a child and said nonsense about taking care of her now, and that she would be fine, fine in time, all she had to do was trust him and let him make her feel better. He gently kissed her brow.
He was doing something to her throat. She reached up and discovered he was unbuttoning her shirt for her. She pushed at his hands to stop him, knowing dimly that something was amiss. He set her hands gently aside and smiled sympathetically. 'I know, I know. But you have no need to fear me. Be sensible. You cannot go to sleep dressed. Think how uncomfortable that would be.'
As before, his words pushed her own thoughts away. He undid the little buttons carefully and opened her shirt. 'Lie back,' he whispered, and she obeyed without thinking. He lowered his face to her breasts and kissed them gently. His mouth was warm, and his tongue skilled. For an instant, the dark head bent over her was Brashen's, and it was Brashen's hands unfastening her trousers. But no, Brashen was gone, drowned in the cold dark sea, and this was not right, she could take no comfort here. As warm and gentle as his mouth was, this was not something she wanted. 'No!' she wailed suddenly, and pushed Kennit away. She managed to sit up. The lantern light behind him was dazzling. She squinted at his doubled face.
'It's just a dream,' he told her reassuringly. 'It's all just a bad dream. Don't worry. It's just a dream. Nothing that happens now matters. No one else will know.' For a moment, she could see the man. His pale blue eyes were foreign to her. She could not read them. His words washed away her certainty. A dream? She was dreaming this? She closed her eyes against the too-bright light.
Something nudged her shoulder and she fell back limply. Somewhere, someone tugged at her body. She felt the rasp of cloth past her legs. No. She dragged her eyelids up and tried to find sight. His face was inches from her own but she could not make her eyes resolve his features. Then she felt his hand slide up her thigh. She cried out in protest as fingers probed her, and the hand went away. 'Just a dream,' the voice told her again. He pulled up the blanket and snugged it around her. 'You're safe now.'
'Thank you,' she said in confusion.
But then he bent and kissed her, his mouth going hard on hers, his body pinning hers. When he let her go,
