He had been writing in his log for about forty-five minutes when the first restless noises came from the hammock. At first he was mildly amused that she talked in her sleep and tried to ignore it. She’d say something indistinguishable then quiet down. Thirty seconds or a minute later, she’d mutter something else equally as distorted. It was nearly impossible for him to concentrate.
Suddenly, she started screaming. He jumped up from his seat and stared at her. A moment later, his door burst open and Daniel ran in, his hands clenched in fists.
“She’s having a nightmare,” Jaxon told him. Seconds later, Arthur and Vinnie appeared at the door as well.
“Maybe you should wake her up,” Daniel suggested.
“Maybe you should all leave. Vinnie wait.”
Jaxon handed the boy the half-eaten plate of food. “Take this to the galley, then make sure anyone on deck who heard her, knows it was only a nightmare.” Jaxon pushed everyone out and locked the door.
Charlie was mostly just whimpering now. Her face was tear-stained, but she still slept.
He reached up to stop a tear’s progress. She woke up with a start, disoriented and obviously frightened to see him standing so close. Charlie forced her eyes to stay open, resisting the blinking urge the light caused.
“You were having a nightmare,” he said quietly. He could tell in that moment the dream rushed back to her.
She ran her hands over her face and was surprised to find wetness. “I-I haven’t had that one in a while.” She threw her feet out of the hammock, stood up and cast an accusing look at it, as if the hammock had caused the dream.
Jaxon could tell she was shaken to her core. She looked so vulnerable he just wanted to take her in his arms and hold her until the tough little firebrand returned. Criminy! What this woman did to his senses, “Can I get you some water?”
“Do you have anything stronger?”
“No,” he chuckled.
“Water would be fine.”
She paced the floor while he poured her a glass of water, blowing the breath out of her mouth and shaking her hands in the air as if she could shake the tension from her limbs.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked handing her the water.
“It was a dream. What is there to talk about?” She threw back the water like a man in a summer desert then set the glass down. When he didn’t say anything, she knew he wasn’t going to let her dismiss it that quickly. She pointed at her scarred arm. “Child. Fire. Nightmares. It’s as simple as that.”
“And you don’t want to talk about it?”
“Do you want to talk about whatever happened to you?” she lashed out gesturing toward the scar on his face he was so sensitive about.
His eyes narrowed.
“Don’t change the subject. You didn’t mind discussing the fire earlier. You’re hiding something.” His gaze was locked on hers as he tried to figure it out. His eyes narrowed and his brows lowered. She had told him she was only five years old when she was burned. It must have been traumatic to suffer such a large burn at that age, but surely it didn’t pain her still. So why…? “Oh.” He knew her secret. “You started the fire.”
At her sharp intake of breath, he knew he’d hit the mark. He watched as her eyes filled with tears she blinked back, unwilling to let herself cry.
“That’s a pretty nasty scar. I bet you never played with flint after that.”
Charlie turned her head away and looked at the floor. For once she couldn’t meet his gaze. She had no desire to correct him. “No, I never did.”
“So your mother shipped you off with your father because you were too much to handle. Damn, what did you do, burn down the whole house?”
Charlie’s head jerked up, her eyes wide with surprise.
“You burned down your house? I can see why your mother shipped you off.”
“My-my mother didn’t ship me off. She died when I was little. My father came home from sea, found the house burned down and took me with him.”
This man did not need to know all the details. If it wasn’t for the way she involuntarily reacted when he guessed she’d been responsible for the fire, she would not have told him anything at all. But she needed his protection and didn’t want to do anything that jeopardized her fragile position.
“I bet next time you’ll be more careful with whom you share your cabin.”
She wished she could leave. He just kept looking at her.
“That’s a great deal of guilt for a little child to carry around—that’s a lot of guilt for anyone,” he said after a minute. “And what did your father say?”
“He never knew I was responsible. I-I never told him.” A single missish tear fell over her lash. Angrily, she wiped it away with the back of her hand. “He wasn’t the sort of man who one approached for a conversation. It’s too late now. As I told you earlier, he was killed this morning when the warship fired on us. He covered my body with his and was hit with grapeshot that might have hit me instead.”