The howling wind outside was silenced as she navigated her way through the narrow corridor to the control room. The crew was all gone, no doubt drinking or whoring before they would have to leave on their mission, and the hum of the engines and the hiss of steam through the piping were the only sounds. Miranda’s stomach flopped as she approached the closed porthole door. On the other side was the captain, her captain, the man she’d wronged more than any other. Flexing her fingers, she quickly rapped on the door before she lost her nerve. “Come!” The captain was bent over an air chart with a glass on the navigation area, muttering softly. He’d shed his military greatcoat and waist jacket, and he’d rolled up his shirtsleeves, exposing the pale skin and lean muscles of his forearms. The blue
