Good God, his thoughts were all over the place. Valentine was all for any woman following her dreams and doing whatever she wanted, but he was thinking like a caveman when it came to Bronwyn Chase for some reason. He wanted to protect her…by keeping her under lock and key. Would he have done the same with Lisbeth? He knew the answer before he even finished the question. Of course not. Lisbeth was a seasoned, trained assassin, if she had to be. She could speak half a dozen languages, blend into any situation, and seduce the hell out of anyone.

Bronwyn is capable all those things.

Of course she was.

She was the fucking Kestrel.

Valentine scrubbed a palm over his face. That thread of guilt beneath all the self-recrimination pulled taut. The tangled web seemed to constrict with him squarely at the center. His unruly emotions veered from being furious that he hadn’t recognized her for what she was more quickly…that he had been so blinded by his lust for his best mate’s sister that he hadn’t been aware of what was right in front of him all along. She dulled his very reliable senses, and perhaps that was the most frustrating part of it, because she also made him feel the most alive than he had in months. Years, even.

Good Lord, the audacity of her in that bath.

He’d wanted to pluck her from the water like a rosy, freshly washed fruit and devour her. Show her how to make that luscious body writhe and squirm. But the lady was squarely off-limits. At least until he decided what to do with her. The ship had already left port, so unless she jumped over the side into frozen water, she wasn’t going anywhere.

Damn and blast. He raked a hand through his hair and palmed his nape.

Valentine had to figure out how much to say and who to confide in because if the gossip got out, the scandal of an unmarried, unchaperoned lady being on her own in America would be insurmountable. Loose lips would sink more than ships. They’d sink whole futures. And while Bronwyn had deceived him and led him on a merry chase, he was loath to bring more ruin down upon her head. He really was going soft.

After finishing up in the bath and dressing in a new set of clothing, he made his way toward one of the lounges where he’d arranged to meet Lisbeth. She would have to know the truth in order to keep an eye on his clever little captive. Lisbeth sat at the pianoforte, fingers drifting over the keys in a lively melody. As usual, she was surrounded by a throng of admirers, male and female. She wouldn’t have lacked for company even though he was unforgivably tardy.