Free Dark Before the Rising Sun by Laurie McBain

for Dante and the awkward position he was in because of her, she had waited, acquiescing to his wish to clear himself of the kidnapping charge before he faced her family.
    Besides which, he had added with that mocking smile of his, she was his most important witness, and the only one who could completely prove his innocence. She didn’t want to see him gallows-bound, did she? he had asked.
    Dante could be most persuasive when he wanted something, and he presented his last argument quite convincingly. Would it not be better to travel to Camareigh and be reunited with her family there, rather than send an impersonal letter informing them of her arrival? Why make them travel to London, where the long-awaited reunion would have to take place among strangers? Surely they would come as soon as they heard the news. And, of course, the rest of her family would still be at Camareigh, and what kind of celebration would that be?
    Rhea, never one to suspect ulterior motives, had believed in his sincerity, and had been touched by Dante’s consideration for her family. It would not be until later that she would fully understand the deeper emotions conflicting within Dante. Houston Kirby would not have been so easily gulled, for he knew the captain too well not to question his actions, especially when they seemed wholly innocent. That was when it was best for a person to be on guard.
    But Rhea was unsuspecting. And uppermost in her mind was the reunion with her family. She was anxious to return to them, and to Camareigh. She was homesick for the familiar sight of their faces and the sound of their voices. There was so much to say, so much to explain.
    Rhea frowned slightly as she anticipated that reunion. Suddenly she was afraid of not being the same Rhea Claire they had once loved. So many things had happened to her. Would they think her too changed? Would they be able to accept what had happened? Could they accept the fact that she…?
    â€œRhea?”
    She turned her head, her mind still miles away.
    â€œRhea? Are you ill? You’re so pale,” Dante asked sharply.
    Rhea gave a guilty start. She had momentarily forgotten her whereabouts, and with a look of surprise she noticed that the room was empty except for the two of them.
    Dante was sitting at the table, cleared of cutlery and china. Spread out before him were several sheets of foolscap. A quill pen was held poised above one of the sheets already partly filled with neat lines of script.
    â€œI am feeling quite well, thank you,” Rhea replied politely. “I was just thinking about something.” And still caught up in her private memories of Camareigh and her family, she didn’t realize that the vagueness of her reply seemed to exclude Dante.
    The scratching of the quill pen continued for a moment longer, then Dante carefully replaced the pen in the inkstand before methodically sprinkling fine sand from the pounce box over the slanting black letters.
    â€œWhat are you thinking about?” he inquired casually while folding the parchment into a neat packet. Melting the sealing wax, Dante pressed his signet ring into the soft resin spreading across the two folds and firmly affixed his seal to the document.
    Rhea sighed, shrugging. “About my family. About going home,” she admitted, and to the man watching her, the soft smile of remembrance curving her lips bespoke a secret she was sharing with herself.
    When Rhea became aware of Dante’s fixed gaze, her smile widened to include him, but he didn’t return her smile. In the flickering shadows of the firelight his expression seemed brooding, and for an uncomfortable instant Rhea felt as if she were staring into a stranger’s face again.
    Suddenly Dante smiled, and Rhea found herself letting out her breath, unaware that she had been holding it. To break the tension she felt growing between them, she glanced over to the letter.
    â€œTo whom have you been writing?” she asked