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will win.
    Across the room, Jon searched the crowd of tired, weary faces.
Where the devil is she?
He ran a hand through his hair. He hoped she hadn’t been on the lifeboat that sank. He couldn’t imagine Danielle not fighting like hell to safety, but then, he’d known many a strong sailor bested by the frigid waters of the North Atlantic.
    Then he saw her. She stood with a blanket wrapped around her willowy frame, her auburn hair slicked from her forehead and hanging in a tangled rope down her back.
    He caught his breath, not because of her bedraggled appearance, but rather because of the way she stood, so straight and tall. He grinned.
Courageous
. What a woman.
    She looked regal in her woolen blanket, her face set with determination. Her chin lifted as if in defiance. As he watched her, his pulse quickened.
    When he moved closer, he saw the brilliance of her eyes as she glanced about the room. Looking for Max, he assumed. Her eyes were the color of Colombian emeralds, with fiery sparks and the intense gaze of a lioness that would make any man think twice about crossing her. Heat gathered in his belly.
What a beautiful woman.
    He stopped, and checked his thoughts.
What a fool I am, she’s a married woman
. And he was practically engaged to Victoria. But a man could look, couldn’t he?
    No, Danielle’s appearance wasn’t what unsettled him, except that she was an undeniably lovely young woman. He loved her incredible eyes, ached to stroke her honey-colored skin. But no, she had something else, something within her. She moved with grace, she was entirely feminine, and yet, she possessed an inner strength that was alarming for such a young woman. He nodded to himself. She was a most capable woman, indeed.
    If only I’d met her before she married Max.
    He let out his breath, chastising himself for his thoughts at a time like this.
    Against a bright overhead light, Danielle saw the outline of a man as he approached her, a man who moved with assurance and vitality. She knew his commanding height, the broad span of his shoulders, and his thick chestnut hair. Danielle waved and pressed through the crowd, her heart surging.
    “Jon, Jon!”
    “Danielle, I’m so relieved.” Jon caught her by the waist and hugged her close. His lips brushed her forehead.
    Jon’s warm embrace was solid and reassuring, but it was a long moment before she pulled away to put a proper distance between them. “They can’t find Max’s name on the list. Is he all right? Have you seen him?”
    Jon looked down at her, his bleary eyes bloodshot and damp.
    She caught her breath.
Not Max!
“No, no,” she murmured.
    “Don’t worry, Max is fine, Danielle.”
    She released her breath. “Oh, thank God.”
    “He was incredible. He helped so many people to safety. Along with the captain, we were the last off the ship.”
    “Where is he?” Danielle gripped his jacket lapel. “I must see him.”
    “He’s being questioned.”
    Her shoulders tensed.
This wasn’t good.
“Why?”
    “He has a German passport. I tried to vouch for him. He gave them quite a start, though. They think he looks just like Edward, the Duke of Wales.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “He’s not a German spy, is he?”
    “How could they even think that?” Danielle was appalled at the thought. “And his mother is Polish.”
    “That’s what I told them, but they need to see you, too. Come with me.”
    Jon continued talking as they walked. “About your lodging, my parents already have a full house, but you can stay at our friend’s home, the Leibowitzes. They’re like family.”
    * * *
    Max sat at a rickety table in a small dim room and struggled to keep his composure. “No, I am not, nor have I ever been, a member of the Nazi Party.”
    Two uniformed male officials stood before him, inspecting his passport and travel documents. Three others in stark black suits spoke in hushed tones at the far end of the room. They hunched over a stack of papers and cast glances