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H e was hard and thick , and when she sheathed him, she groaned with pleasure.

She leaned back, savoring the feel of him, never wanting this to end.

Somehow she knew how to move, how to angle her hips to give herself the most pleasure.

Judging by the way his head was thrown back, he was enjoying this as well.

She didn’t deserve this man—not based on what he’d told her of her behavior before she’d been hit on the head.

But she could spend as long as he’d allow her making up for that bad behavior.

Not that it was any punishment. He was undeniably handsome, and she enjoyed running her hands over his broad chest and the hard muscles of his abdomen.

And the way he looked at her.

She loved how, when his eyes swept over her, they darkened with appreciation. Her entire body warmed at the obvious desire in his gaze. What woman didn’t want to be gazed at like that?

She’d already climaxed once, but she could feel the pleasure rising again.

She undulated faster, racing to meet it, and Simon’s hands took hold of her hips as though she was his last grip on sanity.

She certainly felt mad in this moment, and then she felt drunk, elated, and ready to take flight as the orgasm crashed through her.

She cried out, clenching her legs around his hips, and collapsing on top of him.

She hardly knew what happened when he rolled her over and added to her pleasure by thrusting inside her several more times before pulling out and groaning as he spilled his seed on the coverlet.

Now Barbara would have to wash it again.

He collapsed beside her and pulled her into his arms, kissing her temple, her hair, and the top of her head. She wrapped one leg about him, feeling safe in his embrace. His heart thundered against her ear then slowed gradually, but she dozed off before the beating returned to normal.

When she woke, the room was dark. Simon had closed the drapes and built up the fire. He’d also covered her with the crocheted blanket from the sitting room. She pushed her hair out of her face and sat, spotting him standing near her portmanteau, using a small mirror on the wall to tie his cravat.

“Why are you dressed?” she asked.

He turned, and his gaze dropped to her naked breasts. She hadn’t bothered to pull the blanket up to cover her nudity. That would defeat the point. “Come back to bed,” she said.

“You have no idea how much I’d like that, but we have company arriving soon.”

“Who? Barbara can come back later.”

He grabbed his coat from where it hung on the screen and pulled it on, no small feat considering how form-fitting the tailor had made it. Simon Burrows was a bit of a dandy, no doubt. “Not Barbara,” he said. “The smugglers.”

She sighed. “They’re coming for the rendezvous point.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve remembered it.”

She shook her head. “Still nothing.”

“I’ll tell them to come back before the morning tide then. Nothing else to do.”

“And if I don’t remember by morning?”

“I have no idea. Melbourne didn’t prepare me for that eventuality. I’ll have to write to him and ask. He’ll want the arms back. Perhaps another attempt can be made to re-supply the soldiers in a few weeks.”

Marjorie tossed the blanket aside and climbed out of bed.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll dress and join your meeting with the smugglers.”

“I’m not sure that’s wise.”

She tossed a look over her shoulder, and he held both hands up in surrender. “Never mind. Might I offer one word of advice?”

She bent and retrieved her shift. “Go on.”

“Don’t tell them you have amnesia or that you were the one with the knowledge of the rendezvous point. It’s better if they think neither of us have the information and can’t give it to them because we haven’t received some secret missive or other.”

“I can do that.” She picked up her stays and began to fasten them in the front. “Don’t you trust these men?”

“Not any more than I have to.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Could you help me with all these fastenings? Otherwise, it will take me all night.”

He raised his brows. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’m not concerned. You seem to know your way around women’s clothing.”

“I’m no saint.” He began gathering her clothes from the floor.

“Based on what happened earlier, I don’t think I am either.”

He looked up grinning. “I’ll add that to the list of things I like about you.”

By the time a knock sounded on the door, she was dressed—barely. His hands tended to roam, and then she wanted to kiss him, and they almost ended up in bed again.

But now she smoothed her green skirts as he went to open the door and admit four smugglers.

She didn’t know what she’d expected to see, perhaps dashing young gentlemen.

But these four were grizzled old men with taut weathered faces and shaggy white or salt and pepper hair.

They dressed in simple clothing and walked gingerly, almost as though they expected the floor beneath them to shift as a vessel might do out on the water.

The men removed their caps when they entered the sitting room and spotted her.

She gave them a brief curtsey and watched as they looked to Simon to begin the meeting.

She could feel in the way her body tensed that the sailors’ deference to Simon—the man—annoyed her.

She was the one with the information they sought.

Except that information was locked away in her mind, and she hadn’t yet managed to find the key.

Better to allow Simon to take charge and stand back and observe.

Simon thanked them for coming and then cut straight to the point. “I’m afraid I have bad news for you.”

“Oi, not again,” the shortest of the men said. He held his cap in both hands and twisted it when he spoke. “I don’t expect a landlubber like you to understand, but the sea is an unpredictable mistress. If’n I don’t sail tonight, I won’t guarantee you I’ll reach the Continent in time.”

“I’m afraid I have no choice but to take that risk. I don’t have the information yet.”

“Wot’s this now? You said you’d ‘ave it tonight.” This was from the man who stood behind the others. He was taller and sunburned. She remembered hearing his voice that first day when she’d thought Simon a traitor.

“I hope I shall have it by the time the tide comes in tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning?” A third captain said. He was the shortest and the one with the higher voice. Again, she recognized that voice from before.

“You ‘ope?” The first captain crossed his arms over his chest. “Are we doing this, Burrows, or nay?”

The fourth captain hadn’t said anything, and Marjorie watched him while Simon tried to placate the men.

This captain was very still, and almost as though he felt her eyes on his back, he turned slightly to look at her.

He was a big man, probably three stone heavier than each of the others.

He also looked younger or perhaps that was because his face wasn’t as weathered.

He turned back to face Simon, and she studied his back.

He stood straight, and his faded blue coat reminded her of those Navy officers wore.

The other captains were arguing as Simon reiterated that they should return in the morning, but the fourth captain said nothing.

The dull pain in the back of her head seemed to move to the front, and she put her fingers on her forehead to ease it away.

She tried to focus on Simon, but every time she caught a look at that fourth captain, the hammer in her forehead took another swing.

She reached for the back of a chair to steady herself as the room had begun to spin, and Simon was suddenly beside her. “Are you unwell?”

“Just a headache,” she said as he helped lower her onto the chair cushion.

“Sit here a moment. I’ll bring you a cup of tea shortly.”

Then he was walking away, his voice full of command. “That’s that, captains. Come back an hour before high tide. I’ll have the rendezvous point then and you can depart.”

“Will be a bleedin’ miracle if we can make it in time,” the short man said, but he followed the others as they clomped out. Marjorie looked up just in time to see the silent captain glance back at her before stepping out of the room.

She took a breath, and her headache had tapered by the time Simon returned from closing and locking the door. “I’m fine now,” she said.

“Your color is coming back.” He took her shoulders and looked at her critically. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. Usually, it’s the back of my head that hurts, concentrated on that knot.

But the front began to pound. It’s passed now.

” She sighed. “Those captains will be furious in the morning when we have nothing to tell them.” She paced away from him and stared at a decorative bowl on the table where they’d eaten last night.

“There’s nothing for it. We’ll arrange to take possession of the arms, and the Foreign Office will try again in a few weeks. They’ll be out the second half of their payment, but if he can, Melbourne will use them for the next attempt.”

“And what about the soldiers waiting on the Continent for the weapons? They’ve put themselves at risk by leaving their regiments behind and for what? No ships with arms will arrive. They will have been counting on those to help them defeat the French.”

“It’s not your fault.”

She rounded on him. “It is my fault! Men may die because of me.” She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Why can’t I remember?” She slammed her hands on the table and reached for the bowl. Simon moved quicker than she expected and plucked it from her hands.

“Let’s not throw anything breakable.” He set the bowl on the table again, and she paced away, but he caught her hand when she paced back. “You’re frustrated.”

“Of course I’m frustrated!” She snatched her hand away and turned to pace again.

“You want to hit something.”

“I’d tear this room apart if I didn’t know I’d feel worse afterward.”

“Hit me.”