green eyes searching in the darkness for salvation, but finding only death, pain searing through his body. Blood. His face crushed. Imagining what his last thoughts were. His gasps for breath. Was he terrified? Desperate for someone—anyone? Desperate to not be alone as death took his last heartbeat?
Imagining Wes standing in a doorway, turning his back to Morton as he fell to the ground.
Her throat closed up, raw, painful, tears threatening once more.
Damn her imagination. Damn Wes.
She knew no such thing would have happened—Wes would have never willingly walked away from seeing Morton in trouble—yet she couldn’t stop the images in her head. Couldn’t stop blaming Wes. Morton had needed him and he hadn’t been there.
Swallowing the hard lump in her throat, she shook her head. She had to get her mind off Wes.
But a whole day without him at her side and she’d started to feel cold—exposed.
She had no doubt Rune could protect her just as well as Wes could. The man was strong and obviously fit and Wes wouldn’t have sent her on with a weakling. Yet that still didn’t settle the prickle of fear along her spine that she’d felt the whole day. A prickle she hadn’t felt when Wes was next to her.
Her eyes closed as she chastised herself. She needed something else to fill her mind.
She looked to Rune, studying his profile. The man was a copper-green-eyed Adonis. Aside from when she’d first met him and had gaped at him, she hadn’t truly studied him before this moment—hadn’t truly thought about him as a person. Completely rude of her. Not being around people for the last seven years, save for the servants, had tarnished her social skills. “You know Wes from the ship—from the Firehawk, correct?”
“Aye.”
“How long were you at sea with him?”
“More than three years. We fought side by side far too many times to count.”
“You’re loyal to him?”
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Aye.”
“Why?”
Rune’s head angled to the side. “One, he’s saved my life more times than I can count. If he hadn’t, I’d have shoved him into the sea on more than one occasion.”
A sharp chuckle cut up her throat. “What?”
Rune shrugged. “He used to be an angry son-of-a-bitch on the ship—angry at anything that moved with even the slightest whiff of offense. I’ve been on the receiving end of his anger more than once.”
“Yet you’re still here. Suffering as nursemaid to me, having to deal with my whining of all things.”
Rune shrugged. “His anger comes from darkness—something wicked that happened to him. That much was always evident. He’s a good man—he was loyal to every man on that ship. No questions. No reservations. Of course, he’s also punched each of us at one time or another. So he was a miserable shipmate at times. But he’d fight to the death to protect every one of us.”
Laney nodded, her gaze shifting past Rune to land on a cluster of sheep trailing along a rock wall a distance away. “Wes never told you what happened? With us?”
“Only just a day ago, and at that, only that you two were to be married but didn’t.”
“You didn’t ask more on it?”
“For deeper information as you are asking of me?” He looked directly at her, not unkindly, just curious. His gaze shifted forward. “I don’t ask questions of others and they return the favor. It was the way on the Firehawk.”
“I apologize. I did not mean to pry.”
He gave a slight shake of his head. “I take no offense. As for Wes, the anger has waned out of him. And three months ago, when I came ashore, it had all but dissipated. I imagine he was just tired of taking care of your brother.”
“You knew Morty?”
“I met him on a number of occasions, yes. Sat with him and Wes at length several times.”
Laney’s head swiveled away from him and she looked to the line of trees that hugged the river. Another person that had known more about Morton’s life than she did. Had she known her brother at all?
She cleared her throat, her voice quivering. “Is it true, what Wes has said and the rumors that had trickled back to me?”
“What rumors?”
Her gaze swung back to him. “That Morty was a wastrel. Racking up debts he had no intention of paying. Gambling. Whoring.”
“Whoring?” Rune looked at her, a pitying half smile on his face. “You’re not an innocent miss, are you?”
Her bottom lip jutted upward. “No. That was unfortunately not the