Lady Alexandria Cassel scorned London’s frivolous social whirl, seeking adventure as a stowaway aboard a merchant ship. Drake Barrett was the vessel’s powerful captain—and a cynical duke who disdained a noble’s shallow life. At sea he revealed neither his origins nor his wealth, and to Alexandria he was simply a man who made her cool reserve fly with the winds… whose desire for her was as wild as the ocean they sailed.

Caught in the crossfire of war, they were shipwrecked on an idyllic island, where they tasted perfect passion… and tenderness. But Drake dreaded the day of their rescue—when his love would discover that the virile man she adored was at the pinnacle of the aristocracy she despised. Hardly did they suspect the base treachery that would soon threaten them… and the dangers each would brave to join forever their hearts and lives!

“WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY CLOTHES?”

No storm could be as fierce as the one that raged in Alexandria’s flashing eyes as she faced Drake across the cabin. Her expression was murderous, her small hands clenched at her sides, her tone lethal.

Drake closed the door behind him with a firm click. “By ‘your clothes’ I presume you mean that dusty gown and shredded chemise you discarded on my cabin floor?” He leaned nonchalantly against the wall, regarding her with amusement.

Alex was too angry to be shocked at his casual mention of her undergarment. “You know damned well what clothes I mean!”

“Now, now … such language, my lady. I am truly shocked.”

She looked as though she might strike him.

“I demand that you return my things at once!”

His brows went up. “You demand? Careful, princess, your snobbish airs are showing. Remember, on this ship the only one who demands is me.” He crossed the room, ignoring her as if she were no more than an annoying child.

She stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

“Did you want something, my lady?” He paused, studying her livid expression. She was as transparent as glass, her anger and exasperation clearly evident on her beautiful face.

Drake grinned. “Your clothes are no longer with us.”

The color in her face deepened. “What?”

“They were torn from your adventure.”

“Liar!” she shot back. “There was no reason for you to discard them … at least not for the reason you just gave.”

Her accusing tone made him chuckle. “You are quite correct, princess. The real reason is that I cannot have you parading around in your finery. My men are already lusting after you quite openly. We wouldn’t want to further intoxicate their senses, now would we?”

“The only one on this ship who has treated me with any disrespect is you!” she retorted.

“Then be grateful that I have limited you to men’s attire. Perhaps you will be safe from my lecherous advances.”

Drake moved away, and Alex turned her back as he took off his shirt and tossed it carelessly onto the chair. Tossing his breeches next to his shirt, he put an end to her torment by climbing into his berth.

The cabin was silent. Drake could sense Alex’s presence nearby, and he knew instinctively that she was not in bed.

“Princess?”

He heard her jump. “What is it?”

He cleared his throat. “Is there some problem?”

“No … yes …” She paused. “May I use your basin and some water to wash the dirt from my face?”

Drake smiled in the darkness. “Go right ahead. And, princess … if you can find your way around in the dark, help yourself to one of my shirts. They are clean and more than large enough to protect your modesty.”

Again, silence. Then, “Thank you, Captain.”

Her bare feet padded across the room. Drake listened to her opening the heavy chest, taking out one of his shirts, and slipping it on. Splashing sounds told him she was washing, followed by her soft footsteps as she returned to her cot. Then a thud and a cry of pain.

Drake was out of bed in an instant, moving toward the sound of her choked cry.

“Alexandria? What is it?”

“I walked into the cot,” she whimpered.

“Are you badly hurt?”

In truth she was not. It had been a sudden painful blow, yet already the pain was subsiding to a dull throb. But it was more than she could withstand after her emotionally taxing day. Hot tears filled her eyes, spilled down her cheeks. Try though she would, she could not control the sobs that shook her.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I never cry … and it is not that bad a bruise … I just can’t …” She shook her head helplessly, covering her eyes with trembling hands.

There was no forethought. Drake reacted instantly, pulling her into his arms.

“Shhh,” he soothed, pressing her head against his chest. He felt her tears drenching his bare skin, her narrow shoulders shaking. “It’s all right, sweetheart … don’t cry,” he murmured, raising her chin with his forefinger, wishing he could see her face. He stroked his other hand down her back, pressing her closer to him.

They became aware of each other at the same moment. He was totally naked. She was clad only in a thin white shirt. She needed comfort. He needed more.