“You should sleep by the fire below.”
In the sheen of moonlight, she arched astubborn brow.
Blast it. Rónán accepted part of the blanket, willing himself not to think of her nearness, or how her soft scent of woman and night teased him as she shivered against the breeze. Damning his decision, one sure to make him suffer, he shifted closer. “Lean againstme for warmth.”
She hesitated, then lay her head against his chest, pulling the spread around them.
The rush of the sea rumbled against the bow as the cog cut into an oncoming swell.
She shifted, then again. “I canna sleep.”
The soft, silken sadness in her voice smothered his ire. She’d endured so much, and he suspected that although she would never admit it, was afraid. “We will do everything in our power to save your father.”
Her breath feathered against his neck. “I know, but there is so much that could go wrong.”
“There is. We will try our best; wecanna do more.”
The blanket rustled, and the play of moonlight outlined her as she angled her face toward him. “I remember him fighting his captors as he wasdragged away.”
“He is a warrior. If an option presents itself, he will escape.”
“I pray so. I wish he knewwe are alive.”
“He will learnsoon enough.”
For long moments she stared into the night, then released a weary sigh. “How long have you been awayfrom Ireland?”
His hand tightened on the rudder. “Sixteen years.”
The cog groaned as it angled up a swell. “’Tis a long time to be away from your home.”
“’Twas never a home,” he stated. “I chose to leave.”
“Why?”
Caught off guard, Rónán stilled an instant denial. After what she’d been through this day, if he could take her thoughts off her worries, however briefly, perhaps he should tell her. Besides, he and his torturous issues didn’t mean anything except to him. Soon she’d be gonefrom his life.
Jaw tight, he lifted his gaze to the moon. “I was an orphan, yet fortunate to be adopted at a young age. Or so I was repeatedly told.” Unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice, he closed his eyes against the blast of memories, damning each one. “Few knew that my supposed savior was little more than a vile man who spoke through his fists and drew pleasure from depriving achild of food.”
At her gasp, he glanced down to find her eyes widewith distress.
“Nay one tried to stop him?”
He grunted. “Nay one looked too closely at a bruised, gangly lad. After all, I was fortunate enough to have a roof over my head.” Rónán inhaled, the tang of the sea sharp as his mind tumbled to an ancient memory. “After years of living in fear, of doing whatever it took to keep alive, one night when I was seven summers, the man who’d adopted me stumbled in, well in his cups.”
“W–what happened?”
The anguish of that fateful night wrenched him down dark paths he’d vowed never to recall. Yet he forced himself to continue. “I hid beneath his desk, which I had learned was the safest place. Rarely did hefind me there.”
“And if he did?”
“Hewould beat me.”
She gasped. “What a detestable creature!”
“I loathed him,” he spat. “However wrong it may be in the eyes of the Church, I pray heis long dead.”
Eyes dark with compassion held his. “Understandably. Thank God you escaped.”
