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edge of the trunk to comb out her hair and plait it, the cabin was quiet with just the slap of waves on the ship’s side, the creak of wood and ropes and the familiar sound of a man’s breathing. Peace. No more war, no more alarms and trumpets in the night. No more death and maiming.
    She unrolled her blankets on the deck, found the pillow and the sheet and settled down, blowing out the lamp. It was hard under her hip bone and shoulder, but she’d slept in worse places. This was warm and dry and safe…
    ‘What the devil do you think you are doing?’
    Meg sat bolt upright, clutching the sheet to her petticoat bodice. There was not much light to see by, but Ross was sitting up and sounded as though he was glaring at her.
    ‘Trying to go to sleep, of course!’
    ‘On the floor?’
    ‘Well, yes. Obviously. There is only one bunk and you are injured and I am perfectly fine down here.’
    ‘Get into bed.’ The sheet flapped as he tossed it back.
    ‘I will do no such thing! I thought we had dealt with this—I am not sleeping with you, Major.’
    ‘You most certainly are. I’ll not have you lying on the floor and I’m damned if I see why I should.’
    Meg huffed, lay down and drew the blanket up to her shoulders, her back to him. She was not going to argue with him. Overbearing man. Sleep in the same bunk with him, indeed! She knew what would come of that: men were not to be trusted. She punched the pillow and wriggled down. Behind her there was a muffled thump on the deck. She ignored it.
    Then a hand took hold of her shoulder and rolled her on to her back, another slid under her knees and she found herself rising through the air as Ross Brandon, apparently unhampered by his wounded leg, lifted her and deposited her on the bunk.

Chapter Three
    ‘P ut me down!’ Indignation won over the stab of fear and the arousing awareness of strength as she landed unceremoniously on the hard mattress.
    ‘I have.’ Ross climbed in beside her and adjusted the sheet over them both. Perhaps fear had been the right emotion after all. Trapped against the wall, she tried to wriggle down the bed and was stopped by one outthrust foot. ‘Stop panicking, Meg. I might look like a brute, but I do not force women. If I wanted you flat on your back under me, you would be by now, believe me.’
    ‘You, sir, are outrageous. And you don’t…’ Reassuring him about his appearance was the last thing she should be doing. And as for being flat on her back…it was precisely what her imagination was conjuring up. And her imagination was not as horrified as it should be.
    ‘Why outrageous? For not ravishing you?’
    ‘For even alluding to such a thing.’ He was still sitting up, looming over her, and Meg was beginning to feelhot, bothered and definitely panicky. If he decided to force her, she could not hope to stop him. She was not certain she really wanted to stop him, and that was the worst thing of all. It must be his size, she thought. She was frightened at going back and she wanted to cling to him.
    ‘It was what was worrying you, was it not? Best to have it out of the way.’ Ross seemed completely unembarrassed by the discussion.
    Shameless man, Meg thought, lingering fears of rape retreating. Which left the thought of willingly lying under him, the pair of them naked, about to make love.
    ‘Understand this,’ he continued when she did not respond. ‘I will not lie in a bed while a woman has to make do with the floor. If there was only room for one, then I would take the floor. As it is, it is ridiculous for one of us to be uncomfortable.’
    ‘You might be comfortable like this. I can assure you, I am far from being so.’ He was hot. And so close that one of them only had to take a deep breath for their bodies to touch. The disturbing pulse she had been attempting to ignore became insistent.
    ‘I give you my word, you will be safe.’ He sounded irritated now. Obviously she was keeping him from his sleep with her worries and