“Yes, I have. Well? Do you deny it? Do you intend to leave me behind? You promised that we’d be together, Steve. This time there were to be no secrets between us, nothing to keep us apart. Have you forgotten, or did you ever mean those promises?”

“It’s late, Ginny. I’m in no mood to get into this discussion. We’ll have plenty of time on the ship to talk about promises.” He eyed her darkly for a moment, a frown hardening his mouth. “You aren’t turning into a shrew again, I hope.”

Rising to her knees in the middle of the bed, she glared at him with renewed ire. “You’re avoiding the issue. This is important, Steve. What are you not telling me?”

He dropped to the bed next to her and rolled to his side without replying. Goaded, she put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back to face her.

Immediately, his hand clamped onto her wrist, held her in a steely vise, fingers digging into her skin firmly but not painfully. “Let it rest, Ginny.”

“I can’t—I have to know if you’re going to run off on me again, or leave me to the mercy of whatever forces come along. Oh, let go of my arm, Steve.”

To her surprise, he did, eyes narrowed and glinting darkly up at her. He stretched lazily like a big cat, folded his arms behind his head and lay there with a maddening half smile on his mouth.

“You’re quite fetching in that gown, my love. It shows off your breasts and that creamy skin. You know, I think I prefer you looking all white and soft—virginal. How do you manage to look so innocent after having two children?”

It was an attempt to cloud the issue, and she sat back, legs folded, crossed arms holding her knees against her chest as she stared back at him.

“I refuse to be drawn into a discussion of anything but an answer to my question. What are your plans?”

Before she could avoid it, his hand flashed out, snared her wrist again and yanked her forward so that she fell across his chest in an inelegant sprawl. He held her, one hand splayed on the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her hair to hold her still. His skin was warm; he smelled of bourbon and tobacco.

“I plan,” he muttered against her mouth, “to make love to my wife.”

“Steve, damn you—stop that!” But Ginny found herself swiftly pushed onto her back with him over her, his weight holding her down despite her angry struggles.

Oh, why did she bother to fight? He held her down so easily, with a competent strength that summoned memories of all the other times he had done this, of the times he had taken her against her will, and the times they had come together like two animals….