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She put on a new shirt, unblocked her door, and went out looking for answers.
Desmond sat on the couch, cradling his daughter on his lap. Her head rested on his shoulder, her midnight black curls mingling with his. The noise must have woken her from her nap, as she was dressed in a red and yellow play suit and bunny slippers. One small fist rubbed at her eyes, and she yawned and snuggled closer to her father. Her bunny-clad feet kicked at nothing, and she sighed back into sleep.
Rebecca studied the girl. Gillian. The reason she'd been imprisoned. Even the softness of sleep couldn't hide the faint blue shadowing under the child's eyes, or conceal the pinched look of her face. Rebecca didn't know much about children, but she knew they weren't supposed to fall asleep so easily in the middle of the morning.
Desmond looked up and met Rebecca's gaze. A wistful half-smile played upon his lips.
"She's already forgotten she was frightened." He stroked his daughter's hair, careful not to wake her. "Life's a lot easier to deal with when you're only three."
Rebecca didn't want to intrude on the private scene, but she had to know. "What's going on here?"
"I apologize. Philippe didn't expect to find you here, and jumped to the wrong conclusion."
"He thought you...and I...?" She looked away, feeling the heat flush her face. She'd pictured the same thing herself, last night, when Desmond's warm hands woke her from a sensual dream. But she'd dismissed the thought as the product of too little sleep and unusual circumstances.
She gathered her wits.
"That still doesn't explain why he tried to tear my shirt off. Or why he threatened me."
"He threatened you?" Desmond's emerald eyes riveted her gaze. She could lose herself in their depths.
"He blamed me. For what, I don't know, but I didn't want to provoke him, so I just agreed and said I was sorry. He said I wasn't sorry yet, but I would be." She frowned and shook her head, unable to express the scene still so vivid in her memory. "It wasn't his words, so much as his expression. He looked like he wanted to kill me."
"Don't worry. Philippe's harmless. He would never hurt you. He just needs some time to cool off."
"Oh." Despite her doubts, Desmond's words reassured her. She smiled. He'd spoken in the same soft tone he'd used to comfort Gillian, and it obviously worked just as well on her. She wouldn't mind curling up against his other shoulder. Of the two brothers, Desmond was clearly the more dangerous. But not to her. Never to her.
"Dr. Chen is expecting you around noon. Would you like coffee or breakfast before you go?"
"I was hoping I could stay up here." How else would she get a chance to search Desmond's room? And she really didn't want to return to the lab. She tried to look pathetic and play on his sympathies. "I don't want to go back underground."
"You won't be alone. Either Evan or Dr. Chen will be keeping you company the whole time. And the labs are very well lit. Besides, the tests will be done much more quickly with your help."
The threat was subtle, but Philippe's actions had sensitized her. Desmond might not let her go if she didn't cooperate. She didn't have a choice.
"All right, I'll go. But I'd better have some coffee, first, or I'll be less than useless to him."
Desmond put Gillian back in bed, and fetched Rebecca an earthenware mug of coffee from the kitchen. It was black and barely warm, but she drank it greedily. She'd just finished when someone knocked on the front door.
Desmond unlocked the door, his keycard provoking a buzz-click from the scanner. She hated that noise. It grated on her nerves like the constant chiming of an elevator that stopped on every floor when she was riding all the way to the top, reminding her that other people walked freely in and out while she was trapped.
The shaggy-browed brute she suspected of tampering with her car stood outside.
"Evan, escort Ms. Morgan to Dr. Chen's lab. He's expecting her," Desmond said, his voice returning to the cold formality of last night. It was almost as if he didn't want the guard to know he'd been nice to her.
"Yes, sir."
Desmond prodded her out the door, leaving her stranded in the hall with Evan.
"Let's go," Evan said.
"Yeah. Sure." She glared back at the door. Every time she'd just about decided that Desmond might not be so bad after all, he started ordering her around. He could have asked politely. He didn't have to threaten her, then hurry to get rid of her before she changed her mind.
She didn't move fast enough for Evan. He grabbed her arm and pulled her after him.
"Hey, let go! I'm coming."
He looked at her, then dropped her arm.
