No reply came.
She would get better. She had to. No room for despair.
He needed to make her comfortable. Pedro enveloped her in a towel and brushed her limbs. Averting his eyes to her nakedness, he removed the wet chemise and dressed her in one of his shirts. It fell below her knees, engulfing her in white cotton. Her locket shone, a heart-shaped lamp carrying her secrets. His hand tingled to open it, but he restrained himself. He had no right.
After shoving his legs in Cossack's trousers, he guided her to the bed. While he treated the cut on her forefinger, she stared at the merino covers, her shoulders wilted like a wounded doe.
With a heavy breath, he brought her a glass of brandy. "You will feel better."
He touched the chalice to her bleached lips, and she sipped. A cough racked her chest. He tried again, but she pushed the glass away.
"No more." Her voice rasped as if she had screamed her throat raw.
"Please."
She drank, holding the cup with two hands, and when he took the glass from her, she closed her eyes. She was too quiet. He hated seeing her fingers poised above her knees, immobile and hurt. The dim light cast shadows below her eyelashes, and even pale, her skin glimmered with an ethereal glow. Before his eyes, she wavered, incorporeal as a vision. What if his angel faded?
Unable to breathe, Pedro cradled her face and touched his lips to her forehead. "Meu amor, volta.Come back to me."
She opened her eyes as if released from a nightmare and took a ragged breath. A single tear left the corner of her eye, a silvery trail flickering in the cabin's tired light.
"Pedro?"
Embracing her as if he held the substance of light, he brushed the tear away. "I'm here."
"Locked." She sobbed. "Inside. The waves... I thought you dead."
Chin trembling, she stared at her hands, at the scraped skin and broken nails.
She had gone through the waves alone? Buried in her cabin? A roar rumbled in his throat. Pedro should have asked Cris to bring her to the bridge. With a shaking breath, he embraced her. He hadn't much comfort in him, but whatever he had, he vowed to give her.
After a heavy exhale, she sagged against him, but the sobbing ceased. "He locked the door. Why would he do that?"
Pedro shifted on the bed to face her, his gut tightening. "The captain?"
Her gaze dropped. With a finger below her chin, he brought it back to him. She nodded.
Pedro gripped the bedpost with enough force to rip the wood. "I asked Oliveira to see that you stayed inside. Thepulhalocked you in. I'll have him flogged."
She gasped and covered her throat. "No. Please, no. Don't leave me."
Pedro stared at the wreckage of his cabin and then at the girl wrecked on his bed. He shut his eyes, counting his rasping breaths. Rage would have to wait. He pulled the bed coverings. "I won't. Try to sleep."
She crawled over the white sheets. Her breaths were silent, tranquil, her cheeks regaining color. Her hair fanned over the bed coverings. Pedro deposited James at the bed's foot. The dog chased his tail once and dropped to sleep. He had done well this night and deserved his rest.
A heavy sigh escaped Pedro's lungs, and he circled to the bed's side and lifted the counterpane.
Anne gazed at him, a frown lining her forehead. "Friends don't share a bed, Pedro.”
He yawned. "Can we resume friendship in the morning? We'll just sleep."
She closed her eyes. "I... I can't understand what is between us anymore."
"There's nothing to understand." Pedro lifted his arms wide and dropped them at his sides. "You need me. I am here."
After what she had gone through, his company would be better than staying alone.
"I cannot come back and forth like this." She hugged the pillow. "It's too painful."
