vie felt the worries in her shoulders fade away as he held her. She could swear she felt tears, but she had to be mistaken. A man like him wouldn't cry. She wondered how he could be so different from the man who had been so brutal only hours before.

 His remorse was genuine. She knew well the look of fake tears and cunning kindness. The way he held her was gentle and repentant. It didn't make what he did forgivable, but his explanation made sense. These men were accustomed to violence in their dealings with others. She knew his reasons, but she didn't deserve the pain. There had to have been another way.

 She hoped she wasn't getting carried away with her kind and understanding nature again. She had lost count of the many times she had tended to Edgar when he was passed out drunk so her uncle wouldn't know. How many times did she wash his vomit or blood from the expensive foyer rug? He would stumble in late at night, ill from ingesting things she was certain were dangerous or after fighting at the gambling house.

 She didn't know why she felt doing so was her responsibility. She supposed it was her upbringing that taught her to be a good person even if everyone around her was evil.

 Garson wasn't evil, though. No matter how many priests said he was. He was a man in his own prison of pain, though she didn't have to accept his abuse because of it. Perhaps if he truly never harmed her again ...

 "It's late," he suddenly remarked.

 He pulled away and carefully shifted her to the bed. He had to stop himself from falling into the comfort of her kindness. He couldn't have that luxury. He didn't deserve it.

 "The sun's already down," he continued as he stood.

 He walked to a lit lantern hanging from the wall. She watched him blow it out, then blow out another, and another until there were only two beside the bed. When he approached them, she shook her head and waved her hands.

 "No, please don't put them out," she begged.

 He looked at her and saw she was afraid again.

 "I told you I won't hurt you," he responded wearily.

 "It isn't that," she replied. "I'm ... I'm afraid of the dark."

 He tried to smile for her.

 "I'll be here with you," he assured her, hoping his words wouldn't frighten her more. "No one can enter because the door is bolted."

 She shook her head and her lip trembled when he blew out another.

 "It isn't that," she repeated frantically as he reached the last one. "I'm truly afraid of the dark. I know it's childish," she chided herself with a fearful, sad expression. "If I can't see where I am and what's happening around me, I become frightened. I have to see."

 She began to cry into her hands, and he sat on the edge of the bed beside her.

 "Leaving candles and oil lit while asleep is dangerous on a ship," he tried to explain. "One could tip over or any manner of things could happen to cause the fire to spread before we wake to stop it.

 The moon is full tonight. Once your eyes adjust, you'll see this whole cabin lit in its soft glow."

 She looked at the windows that stretched almost the entire length of the back of the cabin above the bed, and at the windows on the sides of the room. What he said about the dangers worried her, as she knew it should. She certainly didn't want to die in a fire, so she nodded in acceptance.

 He blew out the last one and slid beneath the blanket beside her. She scooted away from him until she was as far on the edge of the bed as she could be without falling. She sat up as he made himself comfortable and looked around in wait for her eyes to adjust.

 "Sleep," he commanded. "You must always rest when you have the ability to do so. No one knows how quickly the tides will change and what will arrive with them."

 She took a deep breath and sighed as she settled down among the pillows. She watched as he turned his back to her and wondered if it was to help her feel safe beside him.

 Before long, the cabin was bathed in the lovely blue moonlight, just as he had promised. She looked toward him and knew he was asleep. His body relaxed into the mattress and his breathing became slow and shallow. She shut her eyes and allowed the gentle rocking of the ship and warmth of his nearness to lull her to sleep.