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walking toward the place where she’d heard the laughter. Perhaps there she would find the help she needed.
    Within minutes, a man tried to grab her arm. As she jerked away from him, two more clutched at her skirt; the fabric tore in three places.
    â€œNo,” she whispered, backing away from them. The smell of the fish seemed to be overpowering, and the darkness was as heavy as velvet. Again she started to run, the men following her closely.
    As she looked back, she saw that there were several men behind her—just following her, not really hurrying, seeming to tease her with their pursuit.
    One moment she was running, and the next she felt as if she’d slammed into a stone wall. She hit the ground, landing on her seat as if she’d been dropped from a window.
    â€œTravis,” a man above her said. “I think you’ve knocked the wind out of her sails.”
    An enormous shadow bent over Regan, and a rich, deep voice asked, “Are you hurt?”
    Before she could think, she was swept from the ground and held in strong, safe-feeling arms. She was too exhausted, too terrified to consider proprieties but hid her face in the deep shoulder of the man who held her.
    â€œI think you got just what you wanted for the night,” another man chuckled. “Shall we see you in the morning?”
    â€œPerhaps,” said the deep voice against Regan’s cheek. “But I may not come out until the ship sails.”
    The men laughed again before continuing on their way.

Chapter 2
    R EGAN HAD NO IDEA WHERE SHE WAS OR WHOM SHE WAS with; all she knew was that she felt safe, as if she’d awakened from a terrible nightmare. As she closed her eyes and let her body sink against the man who held her so easily, she felt as if everything was going to be all right. A burst of light made her close her eyes more tightly, and bury her face more deeply into the hard shoulder.
    â€œWhatcha got there, Mr. Travis?” came a woman’s voice.
    Regan felt a deep chuckle run through the man. “Bring some brandy and hot water to my room—and some soap.”
    The man seemed to have no trouble climbing the stairs with the extra weight of Regan in his arms. By the time he lit a candle, she was nearly asleep.
    Gently he set her on the bed, her back propped against pillows. “All right, let’s have a look at you.”
    While he seemed to inspect her, Regan got her first look at her rescuer. An extraordinarily thick crop of soft, dark hair topped a handsome face with deep brown eyes and a finely shaped mouth. There were little sparks of laughter in his eyes, tiny lines at the corners.
    â€œSatisfied?” he asked as he went to answer the knock at the door.
    He had to be the largest man she’d ever seen—a totally unfashionable figure, of course, but at the same time fascinating. The depth of his chest was probably twice the circumference of any part of her body. No doubt his arms were as big as her waist, and she could see that his snug buckskin trousers clung to massive muscles in his thighs. Tall boots reached to his knees, and she wondered at them because she’d only seen men in silk hose and little kid slippers.
    â€œHere, I want you to drink this; it’ll make you feel better.”
    When the brandy was too hot in her throat, the man urged her to sip it slowly.
    â€œYou’re cold as ice, and the brandy will warm you.”
    The brandy did warm her, and the golden candlelit room, and the man’s quiet power all reinforced her feeling of security. Her uncle and Farrell seemed far away. “Why do you talk so strangely?” she asked softly.
    His eyes crinkled further. “I might ask you the same thing. I’m an American.”
    Her eyes widened in a mixture of interest and some fear. She’d heard many stories about the Americans—men who declared war on their mother country, men who were little more than savages.
    As if he had read her thoughts,