Mystic Memories by Gillian Doyle, Susan Leslie Liepitz

the vision of the boy being stripped of his clothing. But she couldn’t stop it. She saw it all. Sobs of pain erupted from her throat.
    “BLAKE . . . !” cried Cara, reaching through the black fog of his hideously grotesque memory. Instead of fighting him, she wrapped her arms around him, held him tight against her.
    “Don’t do it, Blake,” she whispered between choking tears. “Don’t hurt me the way you were hurt.”
     
     
     
     

 
    Chapter 6
    T he brutal violence ended as abruptly as it began. Blake’s tense body collapsed onto her. He breathed in great gulps of air, his chest pressing down upon her breasts.
    Cara held him until she felt his heartbeat slow to normal. He silently shoved himself off her and got up from the bed, turning away in shame and humiliation. “I can never apologize enough for what I have done.”
    “I’m unhurt. And you stopped before—”
    “There’s no excuse for my behavior. I don’t know what came over me.”
    “You were reliving your past, taking out all the hurt and anger and revenge.”
    Caught up in his own private hell—the hell she’d witnessed—he wasn’t hearing her. “How can you ever forgive me?”
    “It wasn’t me you were trying to hurt, Blake. I saw it in your eyes. You didn’t know it was me.”
    He gave her a bewildered look. “You’re talking nonsense.”
    “You don’t remember it, do you?” she asked him as he buttoned his shirt, tucked it into his trousers, and fastened his belt. “You were abused as a child, Blake.”
    “Those are ludicrous speculations.” He spoke barely loud enough for her to hear. “I told you I remember nothing.
    “Even now?”
    “Even now.”
    Since they were no longer touching, she couldn’t be certain if he was telling the truth or lying to cover his shame.
    “I will return with this shirt as soon as I borrow another from Keoni.” As he started toward the portal, he said over his shoulder, “Lock the door when I leave.”
    Surprised by his lack of trust in his crew, she tried to make light of his warning. “And when you return, what will be your special signal so I know it’s you?”
    “Two short knocks, a pause, then a third.”
    “I was only joking.”
    “And I am not.”
    An icy finger of dread traced a wicked line down her spine. “In that case, hurry back.”
    “I will.”
    She started toward the portal to lock it as he had asked, picking up the blanket on her way. As she wrapped herself in it again, the door popped open, startling her. It was only Blake, much to her relief.
    “Inside, Bud,” he ordered softly. Without so much as asking her if she wanted the protection of his huge black dog, he let Bud enter the cabin, glancing at her with an odd expression of apology, pain, and confusion.
    And suspicion.
    Then he closed the door a second time. His voice came back from the other side of the wooden planks. “Lock it anyway.”
    Doing as he asked, she shoved the iron bolt with the base of her palm, then looked down at her bodyguard sitting at her feet.
    “So you’re supposed to protect me, huh, boy?”
    Bud’s tail slowly wagged back and forth, sweeping the polished floor. From the size and shape of his large head, he appeared to be a Labrador Retriever, but she wasn’t sure the breed had been introduced in America yet. The captain might easily have picked up a puppy in his travels, though. It was a beautiful dog with soulful dark-brown eyes. He had an intelligent face, too. She had a special affinity for four-legged creatures, most of whom possessed more unconditional love and compassion than many of the two-legged variety.
    As the dog seemed to smile at her, she spoke to him with a playfulness she didn’t quite feel. “I suppose your master taught you how to look sweet and innocent. I bet you aren’t interested in me at all at this moment. You’re just hoping you’ll get some leftovers.”
    His tail thump-thumped, sounding a little like the way her heart pounded when Blake . . . Captain