She lifted a hand to her face, her eyes clenched shut in a grimace. Then she slammed suddenly into him, holding on to him tightly. “Where am I?” she demanded dazedly.

“Out on deck. Sleepwalking, I think. I woke up and you were gone. Let’s get inside.” Rain sluiced down his bare back and plastered his cotton trousers to his body. It made points of her fine hair and ran in streams down her face. She clung to him, making no effort to escape the deluge as she shivered.

“I had a dream,” she said disorientedly. “It was so vivid, for just a flash, and now it is gone. I can’t recall any of it.”

“Dreams are like that. They come and go. They don’t mean anything.” He feared that he spoke from experience.

With a roar, the storm renewed its fury. The pelting rain made a hissing sound on the water on the open river that reached them even here.

She didn’t move. She looked up at him, blinking water from her eyes. “Brashen, I-“

“I’m drowning out here,” he announced impatiently, and swooped her suddenly into his arms. She leaned her head against his shoulder as he carried her. She made no protest even when he bumped her head in the narrow companionway. In his stateroom, he kicked the door shut and lowered her to her feet. He pushed his hair back from his face and felt a fresh trickle of water down his back. She stood blinking at him. Rain dripped from her chin and eyelashes. The wet cloth of her nightgown clung to every curve of her body, tempting him. She looked so bewildered that he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her. But she would not want that. With difficulty he turned away from her. “It’s near morning. I’m getting into some dry clothes,” he said gruffly.

He heard the wet slap of her nightgown falling to the floor and the small sounds of her rummaging through her clothing chest. He would not turn. He would not torment himself. He had learned to rein himself in.

He had just found a clean shirt in his cupboard when she embraced him from behind. Her skin was still wet where she pressed against him. “I can’t find any clean clothes,” she said by his ear. He stood stock-still. Her breath was warm. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take yours.” The kiss on the side of his neck sent a shiver down his back and put the lie to her words as she took the shirt from his hands and tossed it to the floor behind them.

He turned slowly in her arms to face her and looked down into her smile. Her playfulness astounded him. He had almost forgotten she could be like this. The boldness of her expressed desire set his heart racing. Her breasts brushed his chest. He set a hand to her cheek, and saw a shadow of uncertainty cross her face. He instantly took his hand away.

Dismay washed her smile away. Tears suddenly welled in her eyes. “Oh, no,” she pleaded. “Please don’t give up on me.” Some decision came to her.

She seized his hand and set it to her face. The words broke from her. “He raped me, Brashen. Kennit. I’ve been trying to get past it. All the time that… I just wanted you,” she said brokenly. “Only you. Oh, Brashen.” Some emotion suddenly stole her words. She pressed herself against him, hiding her face against his chest. “Please tell me it can still be good between us.”

He’d known. On some level, he’d known.

“You should have told me.” That sounded like an accusation. “I should have guessed,” he accused himself.

She shook her head. “Can we begin again?” she asked him. “And go slowly this time?”

He felt a thousand things. Killing fury for Kennit. Anger at himself that he had not protected her. Hurt that she had not told him earlier. How was he to deal with all of it? Then he knew what she meant. By beginning again. He took a deep breath. With an effort, he set it all aside. “I think we have to,” he replied gravely. He resigned himself to patience. He studied her face. “Would you like to have this room to yourself for a time? Until you feel differently about… everything? I know we must go slowly.”

She shook tears from her eyes. The smile she gave him seemed more genuine now. “Oh, Brashen, not that slowly,” she disagreed. “I meant we should begin again now. With this.” She lifted her mouth to his. He kissed her very gently. It shocked him when he felt the darting tip of her tongue. She took an uneven breath. “You should get out of these wet trousers,” she chided him. Her rain-chilled fingers fumbled at his waist.

PARAGON TURNED HIS FACE UP TO THE SKY. RAIN RAN OVER HIS CLOSED EYES and into his mouth. The chill of winter eased from it as the sun touched the day more surely. He blinked his eyes open and smiled. As the rain suddenly pattered into cessation, a bird sang questioningly in the distance. Closer to hand, another answered it. Life was good.