Th
e potent liquor burned like fire. Aurora shuddered as she swallowed, then pushed it away. Bending her head, she covered her face with her hands.
"I told you he was safe," Nicholas finally said.
Her shoulders quivered with involuntary trembles. "I know. I was just so afraid…"
"You didn't truly think I would harm him?"
Mutely, Aurora shook her head. She knew Nicholas wouldn't hurt even a strand of Harry's blond hair, yet he was the worst kind of influence on an impressionable boy…
"You said you meant to teach him a lesson," she said, her muffled reply more a question than accusation.
"I do. In the morning I intend to put him to work swabbing decks and checking rigging."
"Why?"
"Because he needs to learn just how difficult life at sea can be."
Lifting her head, she stared at him. "Harry cannot possibly become a sailor, Nicholas. It is too dangerous. By keeping him on your ship, you will only be abetting his ambition – "
"It is far more dangerous to leave him to strike out on his own." Putting down the brandy glass, Nicholas sat beside her on the bunk. "The boy has a fever, Aurora. A burning desire that won't be quenched. Believe me, I know. I was just like him when I was that age. Perhaps it's hard for you to understand since you've never experienced anything like it, but Harry will have to pursue his ambition until either it burns out or it's satisfied. Either way, you cannot cure his fever by sheltering him from life. He will only resent you for it – the way he now resents his mother. The way I did my father."
"But I am responsible for him."
"And certainly you want to protect him. But he needs the guidance of a man, Aurora. I can give him that."
"He doesn't need the kind of guidance you could provide. You will only teach him violence. I abhor violence, Nicholas. After seeing all the terrible things my father did – "
"I have no intention of teaching Harry to be violent, sweetheart," he said gently. "Only to stand up for himself." When she was silent, Nicholas added more forcefully, "You cannot keep him wrapped in cotton wool forever, Aurora. Certainly not by keeping him imprisoned in the safe little sanctuary you've built for yourself."
Her throat tightening in despair, she looked away. "But… he is just a boy. I couldn't bear it if something happened to him and I was to blame."
"Then you should allow me to determine the safest way for him to explore his ambition."
When she wouldn't reply, Nicholas tilted her face back to his with a light touch of his fingers. "You said you trusted me."
She returned his gaze helplessly. His eyes were deep and quiet and searching, the strong planes of his face intent.
Aurora swallowed convulsively as pain congealed in her chest like a deep bruise. "I do trust you," she whispered.
His face softened, while his thumb brushed her lower lip with a featherlight pressure. At his gentleness, she blinked, and a tear slid down her cheek.
Closing her eyes, she brushed her cheek with the back of her hand. Crying never solved anything. Tears were useless in stopping the pain.
And yet she couldn't help herself. A sob escaped her, followed by another. And suddenly she couldn't stop.
When she felt Nicholas's arms come around her, she turned her face to his shoulder and wept as all the tension of the past day – indeed, all the dark emotions of the past year, fear, grief, loss – came pouring out.
Her body shook in racking sobs while the tears came. Nicholas simply held her, cradling her trembling body in his arms.
When finally her tears subsided, Aurora realized she was lying on the bunk with him, her head pressed into the curve of his neck. His hand gently stroked her hair as she clung to him, and she could feel the night stubble on his jaw grazing the softer skin of her cheek.
Eventually she took a deep, quavering breath. "I am sorry…" she murmured, her voice husky from crying.
"Don't be." His lips brushed against her temple. "Here."
He drew a snowy handkerchief from his pocket and used it to wipe away the dampness from her face.