Even now, after all she knew about his plans to destroy her family, she still couldn't control her desire for him. It was like a drug, insidious and addictive, destroying her self-control. Keely was certain if she looked for a lifetime, there would never be another man like him, a man who could make her ache with desire just by looking at him. Instead, she'd be left to compare each man who stumbled into her future with Rafe Kendrick and what they'd shared in the past.

A soft knock sounded at her bedroom door and Keely sat up, clutching the comforter to her nearly naked body. "I'm awake," she called out.

Rafe slowly pushed the door open, then stepped inside. He held out a pair of oversize boots as if they were a peace offering. "I thought you might want to use the outhouse," he said. "I shoveled a path."

Keely nodded. "Thank you. Are you going to accompany me or can I go on my own?"

"You can go on your own," Rafe said. "And I've filled the bathtub for you. It's in the kitchen when you're ready." He turned and walked out the door.

Keely jumped out of bed and quickly pulled on her clothes, then slipped her bare feet into the warmly lined boots. She clomped out into the living room and found her jacket, then hurried outside.

The snow that had begun on their arrival had continued through the night and the windblown drifts blocked the driveway and nearly buried one side of Rafe's car. Fat flakes still fell, so thick that she could barely see the outhouse or the end of the drive. She dismissed an impulse to run up to the road and flag down a passing car. Rafe would see her from the cabin window long before a car came by.

When she reached the outhouse, she slowly opened the door, checking for wild animals before she stepped inside. The keys were still at the bottom of the hole and she wondered how difficult it might be to fish them out. If she was successful, she could hop into his car and drive away right now.

But even if she could find a stick or something long enough to use, the task would take time and a strong stomach. And Rafe would come looking for her after she was gone for more than a few minutes. And with the drifts as high as they were, she'd probably get stuck before she even reached the road. Maybe she ought to resign herself to listening to his story. Once she did, he'd take her home and that would be the end of it.

"The end of it," Keely murmured.

Is that what she really wanted? To walk away from Rafe Kendrick and never see him again? She had to make a choice. Once her father and brothers made the connection between their troubles and Rafe's manipulation, they'd hate him forever. And Rafe already hated the Quinns. No doubt, she'd be caught in the middle of a terrible tug-of-war if she didn't make a decision. But then that was assuming she had a future with Rafe. She'd be better off putting her money on a future with the Quinns.

Keely quickly finished her business in the outhouse, then ran back down the path. When she got inside the cabin, she kicked off the boots and slowly walked into the kitchen. "It's still snowing out there," she called.

Rafe held a bucket in his hand and slowly dumped steaming water into an old-fashioned copper bathtub. The tub looked so inviting, the hot water a chance to chase away the early morning chill. But she would have to take her bath out in the open. She wondered if this was another one of his games.

"I hope this is all right. The tub came with the cabin. I think it's probably an antique. I built a shower in the back, but it's kind of cold and drafty. And I remembered that you liked baths." He poured another bucket into the tub, then stepped back. "That should do it." He pointed to the counter beside the sink. "Soap, shampoo, and towels. And there's a bucket here for rinsing. You can just fill it from the sink. I'll just be in the other room if you need anything."

This wasn't a game. "Thank you," Keely murmured, surprised by the generous gesture. She shrugged out of her jacket. "You can stay if you want. It's not like you haven't seen it all before. And you can fetch more hot water for me." She started to strip out of her clothes and was surprised when Rafe turned his back to her as she did.

When she was completely naked, she slipped beneath the steaming water, sinking down until it touched her chin. "Oh, this is wonderful." She closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the edge of the tub. A long silence grew between them and Keely opened one eye to find Rafe staring at her, an uneasy expression on his face. "Would you like to tell me now?"

"Tell you?"

"About your father."

"Are you willing to listen? With an open mind?"

Keely met his gaze. "I'll do my best."

Rafe grabbed a chair from the table and pulled it closer to the tub, then sat down. He braced his elbows on his knees and hunched over, silently contemplating what he was going to say. After a long while, he finally spoke.

"I remember the day that they came to the house to tell us my father was dead. They'd radioed in from the boat and the local sheriff came to break the news. We didn't know any details, but later, after the boat had come in, some of my dad's friends came by and explained how my dad got caught in the line and dragged under. From that moment on, I suspected it wasn't the truth. My father didn't make stupid mistakes like that."

Rafe went on, telling Keely about the aftermath of his father's death, the funeral, his mother's emotional breakdowns, the insurance money that seemed to evaporate in the face of Lila's medical bills. "When I was a teenager, my mother was rattling on and on about my father's death and she mentioned something about Seamus Quinn and murder. At first, I thought she was just delusional, but I was curious. I never forgot what she said, and when I got older and had a little more money, I started to do some investigating. A few months ago, I finally tracked down one of the crew members who was on that run with my father. And he told me what really happened on the Mighty Quinn."

Keely listened closely as the rest of the story unfolded. Rafe told it in a cold, unemotional voice, as if he were recalling the death of a stranger rather than his own father. When he finished, he released a long breath. "So you can see why I have to know what happened. My father's death changed my life-it made me the person I am today. And sometimes I don't like that person very much. There's this…rage that I can't seem to get rid of. If I finally know the truth, then maybe I can let it go."

"Even though it means ruining another man's life?" Keely asked.

"If he wasn't your father, would you feel the same way, Keely?"

Keely considered his point and was forced to concede. In any other case, she'd be behind him one-hundred percent. "Probably not. But the fact is Seamus is my father. And if you get what you want, I may never know him."

"When I started this, I wanted revenge. But now I just want the truth. If you can understand that, Keely, then I'll understand if you have to side with your family."

Keely nodded, then reached out her hand. "Shampoo."

Rafe stood up from the chair and grabbed the bottle. Keely slid down beneath the water to wet her hair, then popped back up. She waited for Rafe to hand her the shampoo, but instead he stood behind her and began to wash her hair himself.

"I don't believe my father is capable of murder," she said. "I know him. It's not possible. And nothing you say to me is going to make me believe that."

"I hope you're right," Rafe said as he lathered her hair.

Keely closed her eyes again and relaxed into the luxurious feel of his fingers in her hair. Though the feeling was incredibly sensual, the task was ordinary and it made her feel closer to Rafe than she ever had making love to him.

"I'm sorry about last night," he murmured.

"I know you are."

Keely tipped her head back and Rafe rinsed her hair. Then he set the bucket down and wiped his hands on his jeans. "Well, I guess I should get things cleaned up around here. The plow should be coming soon to clear the drive and I'm sure you want to get back to Boston."

"How are we going to get back? We don't have any car keys."

He turned and reached into the kitchen cupboard, then withdrew a key ring. "I always keep an extra set up here. Just in case."

Keely couldn't help but smile. "And I was actually trying to figure out a way to retrieve the keys from the outhouse." She paused, playing with a mound of soap bubbles near her shoulder. Now that Rafe was ready to take her home, Keely wasn't sure she wanted to go. Somewhere, deep in her heart, she knew that this might be the last time she and Rafe would see each other.

He was right. She had to make a choice-either him or her family. But she wasn't ready to make that choice just yet. If they left now, she'd have a few more hours with him and that would be it. Keely closed her eyes. Now or later, it wouldn't make much difference.

"Good," Keely said. "I'm going to be glad to get back to Boston."

CHAPTER EIGHT

RAFE STOMPED his feet on the rug just inside the door, noting that his ankle only gave him a twinge of pain now. He carefully balanced the load of firewood in his arms as he kicked off his boots. Peering over the top of the wood, he found Keely where he had left her an hour ago. She was curled up on the sofa in front of the fireplace with a book she'd found-his dog-eared copy of Dickens's Great Expectations.

"The snow hasn't let up," Rafe said. "The roads are probably pretty bad. But we should be plowed out soon."

"It's going to be dark soon. If you hadn't thrown your phone away, you could have called and found out when he'd be here."