When the door opened, his tongue nearly dropped from his mouth and his eyes from their sockets. His new wife wore one of his shirts and nothing else. Her loose curls cascaded over her shoulders and past the peaks of her breasts, hiding them from his view. His gaze lowered along her white-linen-clad form to where the shirt ended just above her bare knees and calves and farther, to her dainty, bare feet.
She had to know what wearing something like that would do to a man.
The cat skittered out of the room, and he entered quickly, before any of his crew might happen by. He slid the bolt home, then turned to face her.
“Sarah.” The word came out on a sigh, and even to his own ears it sounded weak and vulnerable to her presence.
“I want to return with you Ian. And…” She paused, as though cons
