Page 36 of Vengeance Becomes Her

Rhiannon awoke in the dark to three gentle knocks. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness that illuminated her room. The silver moonlight allowed her to see just enough as she fumbled to light the candles on her bedside table.

Flames licked into the air taking their first breaths. She picked it up and walked to her door as another knock poundedinto the frame.

Rhiannon sighed in frustration. “Go. Away.”

“But I brought you dessert.” Tristain’s voice was muffled through the door but the hopeful lilt tugged at her heartstrings.

She warred with herself but curiosity and an empty stomach won out. “What kind?”

“I guess you’ll just have to come see.”

She stomped the rest of the way to the door, hesitating with her hand hovering over the knob.

“I know you’re standing there. Just open the door. Dessert awaits just six inches away.”

She begrudgingly cracked the door open, allowing her to peer through at the plate in his hand. Strawberry shortcake. An odd choice for fall, but it was one of her favorites. She reached for it through thesmall opening.

“Ah, ah, ah…not so fast,” Tristain teased. A sly smile lifted the right side of his lips as he moved it just out of her reach. He drew his arm from behind his back revealing a bottle of red wine and two glasses precariously balancing between his fingers.

Rhiannon eyed him suspiciously as she weighed the consequences of letting him in. Her indecision must have been clear on her face.

Tristain rested his forehead on the worn cherry wood frame, his eyes searched hers in the flicker of the candlelight.

“Rhiannon, please let me in. I want to apologize. I didn’t mean to upset you, I was genuinely worried about you. I gotcarried away.”

The way his eyes bore into her own broke down her remaining resolve. She opened the door the rest of the way. “Fine. But only for one glass, and I’m not sharing my cake.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded in soft laughter.

Rhiannon busied herself with addressing the lack of light—awaking the half-melted candles that sprawled across every surface—while Tristain served the wine.

“Thank you.” She took a seat at the elaborately carved wooden table and pulled the plate of cake toward her.

“It’s a start. But what I’m really here for is to apologize.” He nervously tugged the hair at the back of his neck.

Rhiannon didn’t take her eyes off her dessert but she listened.

“I never want you to feel uncomfortable or threatened around me. And I promise not to call you that again. I didn’t mean to be overly familiar.”

Rhiannon sighed, moving a bit of cake around the plate mindlessly.

Tristain reached out his hand as if to take hers but stopped midway, folding his fingers under his palm.

Rhiannon swallowed hard, trying to think of what to say. Looking back, she realized she had overreacted. There was no way he could have known that was what Silas had called her. She had to admit that part of her liked that he had wanted to give her an affectionate nickname.

The entire time she tried to find the words to say, Tristain simply sat there waiting quietly. There was no impatience in his expression, only longing.

She inhaled deeply before breaking the silence. “I appreciate you coming here, but I’m the one who should be apologizing. It’s not your fault. You were only trying to comfort me. You couldn’t have known that was Silas’ nickname for me.” She ran her fingers nervously over her long white braid. “In the moment, I panicked. Sometimes I have a hard time keeping you and Silas separate in my mind. I know you’re nothing like him, who he really is. But you have to understand, he fooled me for months. He was kind to me. He was affectionate. He made me feel safe. And he was actually none of those things.” She forced herself to meet his eyes. “I accept your apology, if you’ll accept mine.”

Tristain’s face was tentative, his jaw tense. “I hate that I remind you of him. I never thought aboutit. I’m sorry.”

“I remind you of someone too.” Rhiannon reached over and laid her hand on top of his. “I guess we’re even.” She gave him a sad smile.

He nodded. His eyes had grown glassy momentarily.

“If Rhiannon is truly too much of a mouth full for you, you can call me Rhi. My mother refuses to shorten my name, but sometimes friends call me that.”

A hint of a smile replaced his somber expression. “Rhi.”

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