Elusive Dawn (13 page)

Robyn gave him a speaking glare. "Which was?"

"Enjoy the show," he stated solemnly.

She decided very sanely that the first chance she got, she was going to brain him. Or hang him from the mast like a flag. Or-what was it?-keelhaul him. Or feed him to the sharks.

"So it was funny, huh?" she asked mildly.

"Not funny.
Amusing."

"Some difference."

"A distinction, actually.
A small distinction."

"Did you ever read that story 'Murder on the Boat'?"

"No." His lips were twitching.

"Stick around," she gritted.

The emerald eyes gleamed at her. "Actually, you make a pretty fair seductress," he commended judiciously.

Robyn's sense of humor suddenly began producing giggles.
"Really?
Then tell me, O knowing judge- what was wrong with my technique?"

"Wrong?" he asked innocently.

She watched as he rose from the bench and stepped over to the stove, expertly keeping his balance as he began to make a pot of coffee. "Yes, wrong. Obviously, I did something wrong."

"Well, there's one thing you didn't realize," he drawled, keeping one hand on the pot's handle as he held it over the burner.

"Which was?"

"All you had to do was ask," he explained gravely.

Robyn stared at him a bit wildly, totally oblivious now to the rocking of the boat.

"Coffee, Robyn? I think it's going to be a long night."

"You can say that again," she muttered.

As the night wore on, Robyn drank black coffee steadily, watched lightning flash outside the porthole, and listened to the heavy rain and booming thunder. The rough motion of the boat didn't bother her, but she didn't try to get up from the bench to test her sea legs.

She was obstinately determined not to ask Shane to explain his cute little remark.

Shane seemed content to sit in silence, occasionally getting up to fill their cups or make more coffee.

By the time midnight crept by, with the storm still raging outside, Robyn was too sleepy to care much about anything except her inviting bunk in the cabin across the hall. Making a fool of oneself, she decided wryly, was certainly tiring.

With a certain perverse pleasure, she jabbed Shane in the ribs with her elbow, and murmured, "Move, will you, please? You have to get out before I can, and I'm going to bed."

Shane slid out from the bench and got to his feet, rubbing his lean ribs and staring at her ruefully.

Robyn held on to the table until she found her balance,
then
looked up at him. "Since you obviously can't sleep on deck tonight, you're welcome to the other bunk."

"I can sleep in here."

She stared rather pointedly at his six-foot length and then at the miniscule floor space.
"George
couldn't stretch out in here, let alone you. Take the other bunk. I only hope you don't snore."

"You couldn't hear it even if I did," Shane retorted as another crash of thunder rattled the boat.

Not finding the remark worthy of response, Robyn carefully made her way out of the galley and into the cabin, grabbing an occasional doorframe or wall for support. Trusting that Shane would give her time enough to get ready for bed, she closed the cabin door, flipped on the light, and rapidly encountered problems.

For instance, it was damnably hard to balance on one foot with a boat heaving underneath that foot. And pulling off the knit top she had changed into after her nap gave her a giddy sense of vertigo and caused her to sit down rather abruptly on the floor.

Changing took much longer than usual, so that when Shane tapped on the door, she was just pulling her sleeping gear-a large white T-shirt-into place. "Come in," she muttered, her back to the door while she tried to pull her hair out from under the shirt.

"Need some help?" Shane asked in amusement when he opened the door and stepped into the cabin.

"Never."
Robyn wasn't particularly in charity with him at the moment, and didn't care if he knew it. Having finally won the wrestling match with her hair, she picked up her brush from the chest she was hanging on to and then stepped rather carefully over to the bottom bunk. Pushing George off her pillow, she crawled under the light blanket, still pointedly ignoring Shane.

There was barely room enough for her to sit up without banging her head on the top bunk, so she had to bend her neck a little. Brushing her long hair steadily, she murmured vaguely, "Get the light, will you?"

Leaning against the chest containing his clothes, Shane sighed. "Are you going to sulk all night?" he asked dryly.

"Probably," she reflected calmly, shooting him a guarded glance from the corner of her eyes. "By tomorrow, though, I'll probably be good and mad. Are you going to get the light?"

"In a minute.
I think I should explain something first."

"Don't go to any trouble on my account," she advised politely.

He sighed again. "Robyn, before you waste a lot of energy getting mad at me-"

"I thought you wanted me to get mad. You told me not to be afraid to get mad at you."

"I meant for a good reason. This isn't."

"Funny, I thought it was."

"
Dammit
, are you going to listen to me?"

Robyn tossed her brush to the bottom of the bunk beside George, plumped up her pillow, and lay back. "What choice do I have? I can't walk on water, either."

Shane rested his weight on the low chest while he pulled off his sneakers, tossing them into a corner before beginning to unbutton his short-sleeved shirt.

"I thought you might be curious," he said casually, "to know why I've apparently been cutting off my nose to spite my face these last few days."

Robyn linked her fingers together behind her neck and stared fixedly at the underside of the top bunk. "So you're going to enlighten me?" she asked just as casually, but with her entire attention riveted on him.

"I think it's time." The light went out, and Shane climbed easily into the top bunk, murmuring, "Some things are better said in the dark.
Especially when they're being said to an indignant lady."

"Don't bother being polite. Actually, I'm mad as hell."

He chuckled softly above her. "I know. That's why I want to lay all my cards on the table and be completely honest."

Robyn felt more than a little nervous when he said that, but her voice was calm when she responded, "Shane, if this trip has showed you that you really don't want to get involved with me, just say so."

"You know better than that. Robyn, when we met that night, I thought you were something I'd dreamed up. And after we'd spent the night together, I wouldn't have willingly let you go for any reason I could think of."

A peculiar hot-cold sensation churned in Robyn's middle at the seriousness of his deep voice, and she felt a fleeting sense of panic. The entire situation was about to come to a head, she knew, and she still wasn't ready to confess her fear... or her love.

Shane continued quietly, and even though they weren't touching and couldn't see each other, Robyn was aware of a strange, almost painful intimacy between them in the darkness.

"When I believed that you had a husband lurking around somewhere, I wasn't sure what I felt.
Rage, jealousy, even betrayal.
But stronger than anything else was the desire to see you again, to find out if you'd been struck by lightning that night the way I had."

"Lightning?"
Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Didn't you feel it, too?" He sighed roughly. "Songs and poems are written about it, psychologists try to analyze it, scientists try to explain it logically,
skeptics
say it doesn't exist." He paused for a moment, then went on huskily, "I was never in that last group, honey; I always believed in love. But I never expected to look across a crowded room and fall head over heels in love with a tiny, raven-haired, golden-eyed mystery lady."

"Love at first sight?" she asked unsteadily, a part of her wanting to see his face for the truth, and yet already knowing that he was speaking it.

"Why do you think I've been chasing after you like a madman?" He swore softly, roughly, his voice half amused and half pained. "I wouldn't admit this to anyone except you, honey, but my dreams of romance were just that-dreams.
Vague, impractical things.
I never expected to have to deal with the memory of another man, or those fears of yours that are keeping us apart."

Robyn swallowed hard, her throat dry.
"Fears?"

"We both know you're afraid. I was hoping this trip..." His voice trailed away, and he cleared his throat. "I don't know what you're afraid of, Robyn- whether something about your marriage has you afraid of a commitment, or whether it's me-"

"Not you," she interrupted quickly.
"Never you."

"Well, that's something." He shifted restlessly in his bunk. "I hope you'll tell me what you're afraid of when you're ready to. All along, I've felt as though I were... fighting something in the dark. It seemed best to just take things one day at a time, to give you time to get to know me. I didn't think I was getting anywhere until you started your seduction act on Friday."

The amusement in that last sentence brought a flush to Robyn's face, but she was curious. "You knew... that I wanted you before that. You knew the first day on the boat. Why did yesterday make a difference?"

Shane answered slowly, as though he were working it out in his own mind. "The first couple of days on the boat, you were... aware of me. The electricity, or whatever it is, between us wouldn't let it be any other way. But you were still running scared. Then something changed. You admitted that you wanted to touch me, needed to, and instead of taking me decision out of your hands and making love to you, I told you that I wanted you to be sure."

He chuckled suddenly. "I'm just guessing, honey, but I think that's what made you mad. You stopped running long enough to turn around and fight. But you still wanted me to make the decision, so you started pushing me."

Listening, open-mouthed, in the bunk below, Robyn realized abruptly just how childishly she'd been acting. Shane was right, damn him! She'd wanted to be absolved of the responsibility, swept off her feet and able to make only a token protest.

"Are you psychic?" she mumbled.

"I'm right, then?"

"Bull's-eye."

His voice was warm with amusement. "That's when I realized I was getting someplace. Even though you didn't want to commit yourself, you still wanted me badly enough to be a bit reckless."

"Oh, God, I feel like a fool!" she moaned, grateful for the sheltering darkness.

"That wasn't my intention, honey," he murmured, his voice becoming serious. "But I wasn't kidding when I said you only had to ask. I'm not trying to punish you for anything, and I hope to God you don't think that! I just believe that you should be sure enough about what you want to throw away the games and face up to how you feel. When you tell me what you want, honey, I'll know that you're willing to take the first step toward commitment."

Robyn drew the blanket up around her shoulders, suddenly feeling chilled in the hot, stuffy room. "And what do you want, Shane?" she whispered.

Very quietly, he answered, "I want you to marry me, honey."

Panic ricocheted through her mind, leaving bruises and pain. "Shane, don't-"

"
Ssshh
," he interrupted soothingly. "I'm not trying to pressure you, Robyn. I'll wait as long as it takes. I just want you to know that I want you to be my wife more than anything in the world. And we'll take all the time you need to work out those fears of yours."

Robyn wanted very badly to touch him, her hand lifting almost instinctively toward his bunk and then falling back. She wanted him to hold her and reassure her and tell her everything would be all right. But she knew that, once in his arms, sanity would vanish... and he wanted her to know exactly what she was doing.

"We only met a week ago," she murmured finally, trying to be rational, reasonable. "How can you be so sure that-
that
you want to marry me?"

"I'm sure." His voice was very certain. "I've been looking for you all my life, Robyn. I think you've lived in my dreams for years. And I'll walk barefoot through hell to keep you."

After a moment, he continued softly, "I've waited too long for you to lose you by impatience, honey. Now, we'd better get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Good night."

"Good night," she
whispered,
her mind on everything but sleep. She lay awake for a long time, staring at the underside of Shane's bunk, her thoughts, dreams, and desires confused and uncertain.

Her last clear thought before sleep ruthlessly claimed her weary mind was the vague realization that Shane had chosen to tell her of his love in the darkness because he believed that she was
unable,
or unwilling, to return that love.

Hours later, she woke with chilling suddenness, her hand lifting to cover her mouth and muffle the cry that would have disturbed Shane. She found herself curled into a tight ball on the bunk, her heart thudding painfully, the nightmare as vivid as though it were still replaying before her eyes.

The cabin was hot, stuffy, and suddenly stifling, and she had to have fresh air. Carefully, she straightened her cramped limbs and eased herself from the bunk. Only dimly aware that the boat was almost motionless, the storm over, she crossed the cabin to the open door, closing it behind her softly.

Wearing only the T-shirt, Robyn climbed the steps in darkness, knowing her way instinctively by now. The light, cool breeze on the deck was a blessing, and she knelt beside the padded bench, resting her elbows on the vinyl covering.

She stared out over the water, her gaze fixed on the still-blackened eastern horizon. Her nightmare hovered like a relentless nemesis, demanding to be seen, to be faced.

She bit her lip, her mind's eye re-creating the nightmare, just as it had really happened on the small television screen she had watched dumbly.
Brian's crash.
The twisted, flaming wreckage held in cruel focus by the camera. Firemen and paramedics...