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intended to remedy soon.
    Gabby awakened the next morning confused and disoriented. Slowly she became aware of a gentle rocking motion. At the same time, she heard the creaking’s of the ship and rattling of the helm wheel chains and remembered that she was on a ship bound for Martinique accompanied by her husband. Her husband! Hesitantly, she reached a hand out beside her and was relieved to find herself alone in the bed and fully clothed. Philippe had chosen to sleep elsewhere! Dared she hope he would continue to do so?
    She raised her stiff body to a sitting position and stretched, working out the cramps caused in part by the arduous journey and in part from being laced into a tight corset for days on end. She eyed the rumpled, sweat-stained dress she still wore with distaste, longing for a hot bath.
    A noise drew her attention to the door and she was surprised to see Philippe lounging in the doorway. “Good morning, ma chere ,” he greeted gaily as he appraised her disheveled appearance with raised eyebrows. “I hope you slept well. Does the ship’s motion upset you?”
    “No, Monsieur… I mean Philippe,” she corrected hastily as she rubbed the place where his fingers had bruised her flesh the night before. “I find the motion most soothing.”
    Philippe moved aside and two men entered carrying a large tin tub into the cabin followed by two others bearing buckets of hot water. Gabby was speechless. Though Philippe had gone out of his way to remain cool and aloof toward her, he still thought of her comfort. She watched with trepidation as he approached her once they were alone, his eyes clouded with a strange, smoky haze.
    “You cannot take a bath with all your clothes on, ma petite ,” he admonished gently. “Hold still and I’ll unfasten your dress.”
    “I can manage quite well by myself,” she insisted, taking a step backward.
    “Nonsense! If your father wasn’t so tightfisted he would have provided you with a maid. But then,” he murmured huskily, “I would have been denied the pleasure of undressing you myself. I wouldn’t, ma chere ,” he warned sternly when she attempted to pull away from his questing hands.
    Soon he had the row of tiny buttons down the front of her dress undone and the heavy material pushed from her shoulders, over her breasts and down past her hips where it spread out in a dark pool around her feet. He uttered an oath at the ridiculous number of petticoats she wore as one by one he loosed the strings at her waist until they, too, billowed around her ankles.
    “Please, Philippe,” Gabby pleaded as streaks of crimson stained her cheeks, “allow me to bathe in private.”
    “There is no need for privacy between us, Gabby. We are wed,” Philippe informed her boldly. “Mon dieu, do you always wear so many layers of clothing?” She still wore corset, corset cover, chemise, and pantalettes. “You will soon learn that on Martinique it is much too hot for such encumbrances. This you have no need for at all,” he said, wrinkling his nose with distaste as he pulled off her whalebone corset. Then to Gabby’s dismay he walked to the porthole and tossed the offending garment into the sea. Dismissing her gasp of shocked outrage, Philippe turned once again to the pleasurable task of disrobing her. With deliberate calmness, belying the inferno raging within him, he added her pantalettes to the pile of discarded clothing. Only the thin chemise now covered Gabby’s flawless skin. Philippe nearly lost control when he saw the pink ups of her breasts peeping through. Though Gabby protested violently, she could not prevent him from removing her remaining garment, leaving her exposed to his hot gaze. He reacted instantaneously. The full impact of pink-tipped, softly rounded globes tilting deliciously upward from tiny waist rising above gently swelling hips caused a painful tightening in his groin. His eyes fell to the junction of her thighs and the softly curled, pale hair, then slid down