Page 45 of Passion's Wicked Torment

“Murderer!” Kristin screamed, dissolving into rasping, hysterical sobs. Finally she turned away from Hunter, toward her dead brother. McShane released her. She went to Chad and fell to her knees beside him. She hugged him and put her cheek to his bloody chest. “Oh, Chad,” she cried hysterically, unable to stop. “Oh, Chad. . . .”

CHAPTER 25

Her brother’s death affected Kristin more deeply than she ever thought possible. She ended up in a sanatorium. This was surprising because she had already accepted the fact that he was dead, once before, mistakenly. During the entire time she was in Yukon, she thought Chad was dead, and she had not reacted so hysterically then. That was part of the reason she was going overboard now, her doctors told Hunter and McShane. It was much harder on her to resign herself to his death, then realize he’s alive and have her hopes soar, only to have him tom away from her again. Especially in such a violent manner, and right before her eyes.

It was so jarring to her emotionally, Kristin had not been able to handle it. She had let herself believe with all her heart, seeing him set foot on her ship, that they could be together again, and all would be well. And then, just as she was in the grip of such happiness, Chad had been cut down before her.

She did not blame Hunter—at least consciously she didn’t blame him. She understood that Chad had been made crazy from his tortures and drugs, and that Hunter had been forced to shoot him to save her own life. She knew that if Hunter had acted any differently, she would now be dead. Still, knowing this did not help. Deep in her soul she could not forgive Dallas Hunter. He had taken away her only living relative, whom she had loved dearly. And if the truth be known, she would rather have let Chad kill her than to be alive now, with her brother dead.

“That is not a reasonable attitude,” said the gentle, white-coated doctor who was attending her in her hospital room.

Kristin, who was just lying in bed, shrugged. “I didn’t say it’s reasonable. It’s just the way I feel.” She was weak and languid from the heavy sedation they had only recently stopped giving her. “I still feel that way.”

“That you wish you were dead?” the doctor asked softly.

“What do I have to live for? The hope of saving Chad was what kept me going these past months. Everything I did was for that end. Now he’s . . . gone.”

“You’re a beautiful, healthy young woman! You have the world before you! And what of that man who’s come to visit you every day? McShane? He’s in the waiting room now. He loves you dearly, that’s very clear. You love him too, of course?”

She lowered her eyes and did not answer. She did not want to admit the answer to herself. Maybe it was just because of the trauma that she was feeling this way. Maybe she would feel differently later.

“And what of Dallas Hunter? You know he beat up two of the hospital attendants when they refused to let him see you? It was only when I met him at the door and told him you didn’t want to see him that he actually went away.”

She saw the doctor looking at her encouragingly, wanting her to say something about Hunter. She refused. Finally he broke the silence. “You’re better now. Is it all right for me to let him visit you sometime?”

“No.”

“But—”

“No!” The anger in her reply alarmed the doctor, and Kristin could see he was worried about her suffering a relapse. Then more sedatives would be needed. Kristin didn’t want that. “I just . . . don’t want to see him. I told you to tell him that I don’t blame him. You told him that, didn’t you?”

“I told him.” The doctor paused. “It’s not true though, is it?”

“I don’t . . . blame him.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Not in my head,” she protested. “In my head I know he did what he felt he had to.”

“When will you see him again?”

“Never.” She spoke distinctly and clearly so there would be no doubt whatever. “I will never again in my entire life see Dallas Hunter. Tell him that. Tell him to please stay away from me.”

There was a knock on the closed door. The noise startled Kristin and made her eyes open wide. The doctor reached forward and patted her arm reassuringly. “Easy. Easy.” He went to the door.

It was the nurse. “The gentleman in the waiting room, doctor. He’s becoming very insistent, now that he knows she’s out of sedation.”

The doctor looked at Kristin questioningly. “Your friend McShane. Would you like to see him?”

She thought a moment. She knew what she had to do. She nodded.

“Kristy, lass! Oh, my darling!” excalimed McShane as he burst into the room a moment later. He went to her bed and hugged her in a bear hug, ignoring the doctor’s orders to go easy. “Are you all right now? Are you better?”

“Yes, Sean. I’m okay.” She tried to smile for him, but found that she could not do it. She felt distant from him. She had an insight into something at that instant. She knew that she was not feeling any less clo

se to him than she usually did. She was only more aware of how she truly felt about him.

“Lassie, you had me crazy with worry. I was, I was. . . . Kristy, I love you. You know that?” His face was strained with emotion, and if he were the sort of man who cried, she could see that he would be crying now.

She held his hand. Again she tried to smile at him, but could not. She was not the same woman anymore. The thing that had happened to her had changed her in such a major way, she felt almost as if her soul had departed, leaving only an empty, unfeeling body. If she had ever thought earlier that she would end up like this, the thought would have terrified her. Now, though, she felt . . . comfortable. It was as if there were no other way she could really feel. She wondered if she would ever get her soul back? Her feelings?

“Everyone on the ship is asking about you, lass. And they’re wondering when they’ll have a chance to see you.” He rambled on excitedly. “The doc, here, he says—”

“Sean,” Kristin interrupted. McShane looked at her. “Sean, I want you to do something for me. Sell the ship.”

“Sell it? Do you know how much money you’re making with that ship every single day?”

“Then you buy out my half if you’d rather do it that way. But I don’t want anything to do with it anymore. I’m leaving.”

He frowned in perplexity. “Leaving for where?”

“Paris.”

“Paris? Lass, that’s halfway around the world. You might as well go to the North Pole!”

“All right, the North Pole, then. I don’t really care where. I want to get away. Far away. The farther the better.”

McShane looked accusingly at the doctor. “Is this your idea?”

The doctor was as surprised as McShane. “Quite on the contrary. I think she’d be better off surrounding herself with the things she’s familiar with, the people she’s familiar with.” He turned to her. “Miss Fleming, in situations like this you need a chance to recover slowly in a supportive environment among people and—”

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