7
Dominic lay still, scarcely breathing as he listened to Roberta shift and struggle. He couldn’t believe she’d actually taken the floor. He had expected her to cry, or beg and plead to have his bed. He was willing to give in, depending on how pretty she was with tears in her eyes.
But it turned out the little minx was made of iron. She sniffled a few times and muttered some delightfully foul curses, then after a time, her breathing evened out. Unable to resist his curiosity, he rolled to the edge of the bed and peered down at her.
She lay on her side facing him, her body curled like a nautilus shell. The blanket covered most of her, but one hand extended out, palm up. A gash marred the flesh of her palm. Rope burns. The woman had gone and hurt herself by climbing the rigging. Her prett
