CHAPTER 12

Hoshi cried softly into Reed's shoulder. She'd never really broken down after receiving the news that Matthew was dead, but now she had. All it had taken was one sympathetic ear and she'd gone to pieces. How could she possibly be more pitiful?

Through her grief, she gradually became aware of Reed's warm presence. His strong arms were wrapped around her, and one of his hands was rubbing small circles on her back.

As her crying subsided, she heard him whisper, "Ssssh," and her sniffles changed to a tiny giggle. A Starfleet commander was comforting a pretend pirate, and she was getting his sleeve all wet. There had to be stranger things in the universe, but right now she couldn't think of what they were.

She slowly pulled away but he didn't loosen his hold. She gazed into his eyes, which had taken on a deeper hue. She could see his concern, but also his desire

"I shouldn't--"

His lips cut off her protest. They were gentle and caressing, not probing or forceful. Without thinking, she began to respond. Then, as she began to compare his kiss to Matthew's, she stiffened and broke away.

She backed away from him until her legs came up against the bed. She stood still, one hand to her mouth, not knowing what to do. She didn't trust herself to speak.

"Hoshi, I..." Reed started to say but stopped. He moved quickly to her, taking her in his arms once more. "Stop, Hoshi," he said as she began to struggle against him. "All I want to do is hold you."

When he didn't do anything but hold her securely, she relaxed. It had been so long since she been able to take refuge in strong arms protecting her from everything else. Her heart began to slow its rapid pace, and she luxuriated in the unaccustomed feeling of safety.

They stood like that for a long time, neither one speaking, and eventually her eyelids began to droop.

"Lie down," he told her, gently maneuvering her onto the bed. "You're exhausted."

"You can't--"

"I'll just stay here and watch you sleep."

She looked up at him. Something made her want to trust him, even with this.

And she was tired. Everything had finally caught up with her -- Matthew's death, the decision to seek revenge, the time aboard the Falcon. She'd been so strong and sure the entire time. She needed this brief respite, knowing someone was watching over her.

She closed her eyes.

Reed sat on the edge of the bed until he was sure she was asleep. Even after he was certain, he continued to sit there, watching.

He couldn't take advantage of her. No matter how much he wanted to, it wouldn't be right. But, he could be her guardian and ensure that she got a night of restful sleep. After what she had been through, she was entitled to it, and it was the least he could do for her.

He wondered how she had managed all this. Her husband's death alone was a devastating experience. For her to wind up captaining a band of renegade Klingons in an insane quest for vengeance was almost beyond his comprehension.

And then he'd come along and complicated things even further.

He couldn't deny she radiated an inner strength. He'd seen it the very first time they'd met, staring at each other across the freighter's bridge. He had been obsessed with her ever since. Each facet of her personality which was revealed -- her sense of humor during their confrontation in the restaurant, her dignity which commanded the respect of Klingons, her cleverness in concocting this wild scheme to avenge her dead husband -- only impressed him more.

A crick in his neck reminded him of how tired he was himself. He carefully eased off his boots and slid down on his back beside her where she lay curled on her side, her back to him. He'd rest for a few minutes, he decided, then resume his vigil.

Hoshi woke slowly. She was disoriented for a moment, not used to being so close to the wall behind her bunk when she woke. Her eyes flew all the way open when she realized the reason for her position.

Looking down, she saw the feeling of weight on her waist wasn't her imagination. As her mind screamed for her to get up, her body had other ideas. Heat began to pool in her loins, and she stifled an involuntary moan.

She turned under his arm, careful not to jostle him, until she was on her side facing him. Some time while she had been asleep, he had laid down beside her. He was on his side, his arm thrown protectively over her.

She was mesmerized by his features, softened in sleep.

His dark eyebrows and thick eyelashes caught her attention first. Women would kill to have lashes like that, she thought with a sly inner grin.

With her eyes, she traced the slope of his nose down to his lips, which were slightly parted. She could remember the feel of them from a few hours before, and she licked her own lips at the memory.

She had gotten to his chin when he shifted in his sleep and his leg thrust against hers, startling her into a muffled exclamation. She remained still, holding her breath, not wanting to wake him.

The specter of Matthew suddenly loomed in her mind. A tear slid from her eye as she wrestled with her conscience, still loving Matthew and missing him, but lying in bed with another man whom she desired.

Matthew was gone. She never again would hear him laugh in delight when she'd said something to amuse him, or catch him smiling at her when he thought she wasn't looking. She'd never again have the satisfaction of working side by side with him, seeing their company thrive, or look up to see that he had thoughtfully placed a cup of coffee on her desk as she worked on the company books.

Much as she had loved Matthew, she didn't want to share her bed with a ghost.

With a silent apology to her dead husband, she lifted her hand to Reed's face and caressed his cheek with her fingertips.

He had every intention of remaining awake when he reclined carefully next to her. He felt a surge of protectiveness toward this woman whom he barely knew but who had bared her soul to him.

Wrapped up in thoughts about her past, he drifted off to sleep without knowing it, dreaming he was commanding a British warship in the Caribbean. They came alongside a buccaneer ship they had been fighting, the smoke from cannonshot fouling the air. He and his men were preparing to board as the grappling lines were thrown when his attention was caught by a small figure on the pirate ship. He -- no, she! -- grabbed the hook at the end of one of the grappling lines, pulling it free from the pirate ship's railing. As she turned to throw the hook overboard, their eyes caught.

He watched as she raised a flintlock pistol and aimed at him. As happens sometimes in dreams, he couldn't move. He watched helplessly as she pulled the trigger. He felt the ball sear across his cheek--

His eyes snapped open to stare into the same eyes from his dream, and the hand which had held the gun in the dream was stroking his cheek gently.

He could see the hunger in her eyes, and felt a corresponding desire spark within himself. He reached up slowly to grasp the hand on his face, and moved it to his mouth where he gently kissed its palm.

He watched as her eyes closed and heard her slight intake of air. Moving her hand away, he leaned toward her and put his lips over hers, tasting her, and felt her hand go behind his head, encouraging him to continue.

Ever so slowly, he increased the pressure, pushing her onto her back, and was gratified when she yielded. Drawing back from her a fraction, he looked into her eyes, which had opened at his hesitation.

"Hoshi, are you sure you want this?" he asked, desire making his voice husky.

At her nod, he began to plunder her mouth with his.