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She leaned back, feeling a vibration as she painlessly thumped her head once against the wood. She could not traverse the room and reach the bell pull. Her feet wouldn’t let her.
The room didn’t feel safe. She couldn’t stay long enough to summon a maid. The pirates would not go away. She could not make them leave her dreams and in her dreams she had nothing to fight with.
Soundlessly, she opened the door and put one foot into the hallway. Nothing. Still darkness. No movement.
She couldn’t shut the door behind her. Even though the room could trap her, she couldn’t close even one possible way of escape.
Sliding her body out, she moved down the hallway. If she called from the library for a servant, the butler would arrive. He stood tall and she could ask him to check her room for a mouse. She’d heard something. She’d heard a squeak or a creak. A noise had stirred her from the terror.
Or perhaps she’d only dreamed it. The figure of the man squeezing her neck had vanished as she woke, disappearing, as the nightmare always did, taking the stench of death with him. Leaving her room as quiet and still as a crypt covered in dust.
Standing, she waited, making sure she heard nothing again. She forced her imagination away. Those endless fears that plagued her had merely returned, but she didn’t want to be alone.
She clutched the knife close to her body, and ignored the chills seeping through her thin shift.
‘What—’ A gruff voice—behind her—right behind her. Her mind froze, but her body did not. She swirled around, bringing the knife up. His hand rose, clamping on her own, holding her clutched fist with the strength of a vise. In the same instant her hand was caught, he moved forward, pushing her, her right shoulder crashing into the wall. He trapped her with his size.
Neither moved.
‘Bellona,’ the duke gasped out. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
She could not speak. She could not.
‘Bellona.’ He called her name again.
It was Rhys. Her brain knew it. But her body wouldn’t move. Her pounding heart took all the power from her voice. Pushing against him made no more difference than hurling herself at the strongest rock on Melos. Fear overpowered her, and her mind could not free itself from the terror.
‘It’s me. It’s Rhys,’ he said. ‘Bellona.’
Shudders racked her body.
He still held her knife hand, but his other arm pulled her into an embrace. ‘You’re safe.’ His voice rumbled softly, a caress in words. ‘It’s me. I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you.’
The bulwark of his strength didn’t frighten her, but terror still controlled her even though her mind translated the scene into the reality of the moment. She rested her head against his shoulder. The only movement she could make.
He pulled her even closer. He murmured to her and he lightened his clasp, cradling her now. Her body shook and he didn’t speak again, just held her.
Minutes passed. The knife handle was pulled from her hand. She had no strength to hold it. She didn’t have the ability to stand without his help. His other arm went around her.
Her face stayed buried against him, the silken threads of his waistcoat against her cheek. His male scent soothing her. He didn’t clench her tightly, but she burrowed into him, regaining her composure as the shaking stopped and her heartbeats slowed.
‘I thought...’ she whispered.
‘You thought to hurt me?’
‘No. I did not know. I could not think,’ she said. ‘I did not know it was you.’
‘Who else would it be?’
She whispered again, ‘I did not know...’
He kept her folded into his arms, crushing her against the fabric of his clothing, surrounding her with the fortress of his strength.
His chin rested against her forehead. ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you.’
‘I didn’t recognise your voice at first.’ She shut her eyes, taking solace from his hands clasping her back, holding her.
‘Sweet, much as I’d like to hold you, I have something I must attend to.’
‘I don’t want to be alone.’
‘I understand.’ He squeezed her. ‘We can talk about it later.’
She gripped him. ‘I could have hurt you.’
‘I know.’ He mumbled the words, his lips against her hair. ‘You could have.’
He pushed himself away from her. ‘But you must get to bed now.’
She reached out, unable to let him go, and confusion hit her mind. She felt the sleeve of his arm, but he jerked back.
Something was wrong.
‘I...’ She clenched her right hand, letting her own fingers brush her palm. Wetness.
‘I— Did I—?’
