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total stranger? Rage pulsed through his veins. He thrust the server at the old woman, knocking them both to the floor. Further venting his rage, he launched the silver coin at the woman. She yelped as the coin hit her cheek, but scrambled after it a heartbeat later. If he hadn’t been so angry, he might have been amused by her desperation to keep what she felt she’d earned.
    His anger so hot it was close to pain, the conde left the inn. “To the wharf,” he directed his men. He would have to commandeer a ship that could overtake the fishing vessel Jessamine had hired. He had to find her and take back what was rightfully his.
    The conde mounted, then led his men toward the smattering of boats just beyond the whitewashed inn. He curled his hand into a fist. When he found the bastard who was posing as Jessamine’s husband…The man would be no good even for fish food, when the conde was done with him.
    The next morning, after waking from an exhausted sleep, Jessamine stretched her neck, trying to ease the kinks left by a long, cold night. Mediterranean nights were cool and clear, and Jessamine had spent half of the last one staring up at the stars, wondering what she could do to sway the knight’s opinion.
    The ship was silent except for the gentle slap of the waves against the hull. By the first light of dawn, nothing had come to her. So she’d decided to simply be near him. Her presence seemed to irritate him. And she much preferred to irritate and annoy than to be dismissed.
    She sat at the edge of his pallet and waited. A whistlesounded, signaling the change of watch. The silent seamen who had seen the ship through the night moved belowdecks as others, fresh from sleep, emerged.
    As each man stepped on deck, his gaze turned to her. Interest flared in their eyes. And lust. Her heart leaped. She glanced down at the knight. He was still lost in sleep, and her heart pounded jerkily with a queer sort of panic. No one had ever looked at her in such a way before. Not even the conde.
    The men didn’t take their posts, but stepped closer to her and Alan. Jessamine shivered with uneasiness as her hand slowly moved toward the knight’s sword, which lay near her knees. Nervously, she counted them. Eight bearded men looked at her with lust, insolence, and anticipation.
    Her gaze flew to the water. She could see the faint outline of land in the distance, but the ship was still too far away to hope for help from that quarter. Her fingers touched the sword’s hilt, and she grasped the weapon. “Don’t come any closer,” Jessamine warned. When two of the sailors did, she leaped to her feet and held the lethal sword before her, hoping they didn’t see how her fingers trembled.
    The two men laughed. “We’ve decided your jewels weren’t payment enough for this voyage.” A young sailor with pale, beady eyes edged closer.
    An older man with a hard, square jaw leered at her. “You’ve got other treasures we plan to enjoy.”
    Jessamine’s stomach lurched. How could she have been so foolish to believe she’d be safe with a partially unconscious, injured man?
    The shortest man in the group stepped closer. “This will be the easiest spoils we’ve ever earned.”
    Jessamine clutched the hilt, aiming the sword first atone man, then another. She couldn’t fight them all. She could hardly keep the heavy sword upright.
    In a heartbeat, the knight surged upward from right beside her. He drew a dagger from his boot and jabbed one man in the shoulder while he kicked the second in the kneecap. Both men groaned from their pain and staggered backward, collapsing on the deck.
    He turned back to her, extending his hand. “My sword?” he asked politely as he placed himself between her and their attackers.
    Her heart hammering, she handed him the weapon, then watched him engage the men who’d rushed forward with deadly intent. The sound of steel echoed loudly in the silence of the morning. Alan caught one man with a blow to the back,