“I’m not in the mood to be shouted at right now,” she told him before she drank again. “If you need to vent your temper, you’ll have to save it.”

“I’m not going to shout.” Because he felt every bit as unsteady as she did, he sat beside her and lifted the bottle, drinking straight from it. The brandy ran hot and strong through him. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m not going to apologize for what I did.”

“I should thank you.” He drank again and felt the nerves in his stomach ease. “The point is, you had no business doing what you did. Nothing but blind luck kept you from being torn up down there.”

Turning her head, she stared at him. “I should’ve stayed safe and sound on the bottom while you dealt with the shark—with your diver’s knife.”

He met the look levelly. “Yes.”

“And you’d have done that, if it’d been me?”

“That’s different.”

“Oh.” Glass in hand, she rose. She took a moment to study him, that raw-boned, dark face, the dripping hair that needed a trim, the eyes that reflected the sea. “Would you care to explain that little piece of logic to me?”

“I don’t have to explain it, it just is.” He tipped the bottle back again. It helped to cloud his imagination which kept bringing images of what might have happened to her.

“No, it just isn’t, and that’s one of your major problems.”

“Kate, have you any idea what could have happened if you hadn’t lucked out and hit a vital spot with that spear?”

“Yes.” She drained her glass and felt some of the edge dull. The fear might come back again unexpectedly, but she felt she was strong enough to deal with it. And the anger. No matter how it slashed at her, she would put herself between him and danger again. “I understand perfectly. Now, I’m going up with Marsh.”

“Wait a minute.” He stood to block her way. “Can’t you see that I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you? I want to take care of you. I need to keep you safe.”

“While you take all the risks?” she countered. “Is that supposed to be the balance of our relationship, Ky? You man, me woman? I bake bread, you hunt the meat?”

“Damn it, Kate, it’s not as basic as that.”

“It’s just as basic as that,” she tossed back. The color had come back to her face. Her legs were steady again. And she would be heard. “You want me to be quiet and content—and amenable to the way you choose to live. You want me to do as you say, bend to your will, and yet I know how you felt about my father.”