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The channel ahead of them became more narrow, and without a word, Rosie handed Ian the cup of coffee. He sat down on the bench close to the wheel and watched her expertly maneuver the yacht. She skillfully used the throttle to carry the boat with the current that seemed suddenly fast, a feat that would have been impressive during the day. In the dark, it was damn near miraculous.

Almost at once, they emerged from the channel into a much broader one, one that looked as though the closest islands ahead of them were miles and miles away. He turned on the flashlight and looked at the map dotted with the islands of Alaska’s inside passage. "This is Sumner Strait?" he asked.

She nodded, turning on the running lights and eliminating the need for a flash light. Behind them, Kantrovich Island could no longer be seen. Ahead, in the far distance, there were couple of other boats, their own running lights making them look like sparkling gems on black satin.

"You did it," he said, giving voice to his relief. If they didn’t make any mistakes, they had a good chance of simply disappearing until after Lily had testified and it was safe to return. "Good job." He handed her back the cup of coffee.

She didn’t reply, but took a long sip. "You thought Marco would show up, didn’t you?"

"I had a hunch," he admitted.

"Why?"

Ian stared into the night for a long moment and finally settled on the truth. "I’ve known a hundred guys just like him. Hell, I could’ve turned out just like him--except I got lucky.

She looked sharply at him and he shrugged. "I grew up running with a gang filled with guys like Marco. He’s paid well enough to be loyal. He gets high from violence and power."

Rosie shuddered.

"You’re looking more tired by the minute," he said a little while later.

"I didn’t get any sleep today, which is why I’m going to show you the controls. Sooner or later, I’m going to need a nap."

"If I were you, I’d want more than a nap." He joined her at the wheel, so she could show him. The principles she explained were the same as he was used to in aircraft, and he soon found himself more focused on the woman than on what she was saying.

This close, he was again aware of the scent of roses. Mostly, he was struck by how small she was, something he had a tendency to forget when she was attacking him or keeping him at a distance with her sharp words and sharper looks. This morning, he had been reminded of a frightened kitten putting on a show of ferocity, an image that returned now. An image he was positive she would take issue with if he were dumb enough to share it.

The tension that radiated from her couldn’t be disguised. When he accidentally brushed against her and she once again started, he would have bet all he owned that she was scared of him — not leery, not nervous, but bone deep frightened.

He moved slightly away, giving her more space, but the fine trembling of her body didn’t lessen.

Without speaking, he refilled her cup up with the thermos and offered it to her.

As he had known she would, she made sure she didn’t touch him when she took the cup. He figured asking her about it would only lead to an argument, so he didn’t ask. Standing behind her, he watched as she continued to explain about the autopilot and the GPS system, and he thought about how assured she was on one hand and how edgy he made her on the other. Somehow, he had to make her understand that he wouldn’t hurt her, despite their earlier physical altercations.

He had watched her reassure both Annmarie and Sly with her touch. An obvious answer. All he had to do was show her that she had nothing to fear from him.

He placed his hand at the back of her neck. She started. He caught her shoulders with his hands, holding her still.

"Shh," he softly urged, gently massaging the tendons with his thumbs and fingers, relieved that his hands were warmer than her skin. As for her skin--it was far too soft for his own peace of mind. The truth he didn’t want to admit was that he wanted to touch her.

"I don’t--"

"Shh." Positioning his thumbs on either side of her nape, he massaged the muscles of her neck, then worked his way down each shoulder to her arms. If her muscles were any tighter, she’d break.

"Ian. I don’t need a massage."

"Don’t talk. I’m not going to hurt you."

"You already have."

"Sorry." He hadn’t in this moment, so he knew she had to be talking about earlier. He figured her pride had suffered most of all. His own had certainly taken a bruising. He’d never before been bested by somebody he outweighed by a hundred pounds.

He gentled the pressure of his touch, rubbing away one knot at a time in her neck, then moving on to the next.

"You’re not going to stop, are you?"

He smiled, realizing that she hadn’t asked him to. Instead of answering, he adjusted his touch to what he sensed she preferred and continued working the muscles of her neck and shoulders, pleased that little by little they became softer.

She stood very still, as though to acknowledge what he was doing in any way at all would somehow be a betrayal. His intent was to relax her, but he found himself thinking about how nice she felt and about how much nicer it would be to touch more than her neck and back. With considerable effort, he kept his fingertips from running down the full length of her spine, or from turning her in his arms so he could hold her.

"We’ll be on this heading for a while, won’t we?" he asked, forcing his thoughts away from the dangerous ground of seduction, which was his usual intent when offering a massage.

A moment passed before she answered. "Yes." Her voice was little more than a whisper, as though she had dredged it from deep inside her.

"Trust me enough to take the wheel for a while?"

Slowly, she turned around to face him, tipping her head back so she could meet his gaze.

He grazed the back of a finger down the side of her face, a touch he couldn’t have stopped if his life had depended on it. If he hung onto the last shreds of his discipline, he’d keep from kissing her. "You need to get some sleep," he added.

She nodded.

He bent and pressed a kiss against her temple without touching her otherwise. So much for discipline. "Go get some sleep, Rosie. You’re safe, I promise."

Her heart thudding, Rosie stepped past Ian and made her way to the ladder. She turned around and found his attention on the smooth water ahead of them. She watched him a moment, wishing she understood what had just happened between them. Something she wouldn’t think about if she wanted any peace of mind at all.

Moments later, she collapsed on the bed, gathering Annmarie close, and arranging the blanket over them. More tired than she cared to acknowledge, she admitted just how much Ian’s gentle massage had made her relax. She would have never imagined he could be so gentle or so generous.

And so the day ended as unusually as it had begun, her sweet Annmarie in her arms, and her thoughts on a stranger--a man who felt oddly safe in spite of all that he was.

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