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day had stolen her words, seeing so much more of him bare now was stealing the very breath from her lungs. In the strong tropical sunshine his hair was a burnished red-chestnut, thick and curling and just touching wide, powerful shoulders that were bronzed and glowing with the faintest hint of sunburn. Hard-muscled arms, a lean and tapered torso laddered with muscle, and long, long legs completed a picture of perfection that, had the day not already been as hot as it was, would have elevated the temperature of Rhiannon’s Welsh blood considerably.
    And she’d thought his bare legs and feet were distracting?
    Compared to this ?
    As though feeling her admiring gaze upon him, he glanced over, grinned, and saluted her with his apple before returning his attention to his task.
    Rhiannon swallowed hard and wondered yet again what it would be like if he kissed her.
    What it would be like to have him look at her the way he’d done when she’d taken off her bonnet to the wind.
    Her mouth went dry, and she wished she could touch those bare arms just to see if the muscles beneath were as hard and powerful as they looked. . . .
    There was movement from shore. Already, a flurry of boats were coming out to meet them carrying customs officials, painted doxies, dark-skinned vendors selling fruit, and God only knew what else.
    “I hope we’re not stuck here too much longer,” Alannah said, trying to get Rhiannon’s attention on something other than the American. “I don’t know about you, but I’m just dying for a cup of tea and the chance to see my little nieces and nephew.”
    The captain, still munching his apple, walked toward them. “They’re my little nieces and nephew, too,” he said. “So what does that make us when it comes to relations, Mrs. Cox? Aunt and uncle-in-laws?”
    She just shot him a quelling glance. “We are not related.”
    He laughed and winked at Rhiannon, whose own lips began to twitch in response. Out of the corner of her eye she caught movement, and turned her head.
    “Oh, look,” she said, pointing out over the water. “There’s another boat, and that one sure doesn’t look like it’s carrying fruit!”
    Captain Merrick followed her gaze. “I’d beg to differ,” he said wryly.
    Amidst the small flotilla making their way toward them this one stood out for what it was, a British naval vessel. Smartly dressed tars in striped shirts and round hats managed each stroke of the oars with perfect precision and in the stern was an officer, his blue coat tightly buttoned, his gold epaulets blinding in the sun, his face in shadow beneath his oversized hat.
    “Well, would you look at that,” Alannah said proudly. “My dear brother has sent not only a smartly turned out boat and crew, but an actual officer to meet us!”
    “Who doesn’t have the sense to strip down in this heat,” Captain Merrick quipped, taking another bite of his apple.
    Alannah glared at him, but he merely shrugged, one corner of his mouth lifted in a teasing grin as he chewed.
    “Would you stop baiting her?” Rhiannon scolded playfully. “Make her angry enough and she could have that same officer take you off in chains.”
    He laughed. “Oh, I have all kinds of ways of making Mrs. Cox angry,” he said, and as though to prove his point, let his fingers brush Rhiannon’s shoulder; Rhiannon blushed, Alannah started sputtering, and at the moment, the Royal Navy boat was hailed.
    Soon enough, the officer, resplendent in his blue and white uniform with its blinding gold accents, was aboard the ship and striding purposefully toward them. He was tall, with cool gray eyes that, with the sunlight bouncing off the waves and striking light into the irises, looked almost amethyst. Upon seeing the women, he respectfully removed his hat, revealing curly black hair that was drawn severely back from his face and caught in a short queue. His shoulders filled out his uniform in a way that cut through Alannah’s sourness and brought a little