Free Practical Widow to Passionate Mistress by Louise Allen

told you to avert your eyes, wife.’
    Meg dragged her gaze from two pairs of pale, goose-pimpled buttocks retreating towards the companionway and laughed. ‘And, as always, husband, your judgement is entirely correct. I have never seen a more revolting sight.’

Chapter Five
    M eg stayed where she was, listening as the outraged shrieks from below died down. Her knees felt wobbly now as her amusement ebbed away. That had been a nasty little incident and it had left her more shaken than she expected. Uneven, limping footsteps on the deck made her look up. ‘What happened?’
    ‘They snatched up platters from the serving table to cover their modesty so most people were spared the worst of it. But they won’t dare show their faces for the rest of the voyage.’ Ross stood close, looking down at her. ‘Johnny saw them follow you and came to me. Are you all right, Meg?’
    ‘Yes, of course,’ Meg began, then found her voice cracking. ‘No…not really. It is very foolish, I just feel rather…’
    And then he stepped forwards, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. It was rather like being hugged by the bear she had compared him to, one smelling of river-soaked, badly dried cloth with a lingering whiff of gunpowder and smoke, but it was marvellouslycomforting. And utterly improper. Meg wrapped her arms around Ross’s waist and clung, her cheek pressed against the dark green broadcloth of his jacket, her toes bumping his boots. How long had it been since she had been hugged?
    He was big and strong and beautifully male. Appropriate female parts of her tingled disconcertingly at the realisation of just how good he felt.
    His chin was resting on the top of her head. He was certainly a very thorough hugger, but that was all this seemed to be, thank goodness. Thank goodness, she repeated rather desperately to herself as her body soaked up his warmth and the strength of his arms stirred the feelings that were nothing at all to do with relief and entirely to do with the effect of being held close by a very masculine man.
    She really should step away, now, before his thoughts began to run along the same path. Meg wriggled and said, muffled, into his chest, ‘I’m all right now, thank you.’
    ‘Mmm?’ Ross opened his arms a little, enough for her to lean back against his embrace and look up. It was hard to see in the light of the swaying lantern and she frowned, trying to make out his expression. It did not occur to her that this position, or the length of time she held it, was an invitation—not until he lowered his head and kissed her.
    It was not a subtle kiss, but it was a satisfying one, tingling right down to her toes. And it was a surprising kiss, not least because she was hazily aware that Ross was as taken aback as she was by what was happening. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him in return and he seemed to emerge from his shock and put his mind to what he was doing.
    And at that point the movement of his mouth over hers became subtle, intimate and far more assured and arousing than Meg could deal with. She much preferred him confused. And besides, she was not used to kissing like this. James had not been much given to preliminaries. ‘No.’ She pulled back. ‘Ross, we should not be doing this.’
    He did not release her abruptly as he might have done, finding himself rejected, but opened his hands and his arms so they still supported her. ‘No?’
    Meg found she could not reply. It was difficult, just at this moment, to remember why falling into bed with a troubled near-stranger she did not understand was not a perfectly rational thing to be doing. Then the ship rolled and she was back in his embrace, her hands reaching up to slide into the thick hair at the sides of his head. Oh, but this was good, this closeness, this heat.
    This time it was Ross who stopped. ‘Downstairs.’ He strode towards the companionway, one hand clasped firmly around her wrist. She allowed herself to be