But the feel of him when he was inside her had been sublime. So thick and long that the fullness of him had penetrated everywhere. A twinge throbbed from her well-pleasured center and a blush heated her cheeks at how wanton she’d been, propped up on the ledge like a doxy on the docks while a gentleman had had his carnal way with her.

Not that she was complaining. She’d wanted him, too, with a hunger that had shocked her. The salacious images in her head during their walk had been summarily banished for her own sanity, but they’d seen her bent over the ship’s railing with him plowing her from behind. This way had been infinitely better.

Bronwyn secured the pins in her hair that had come loose when his fingers had been buried in the strands. Heavens, had a little hair-pulling ever felt so wickedly divine? She sniffed and smoothed the tendrils away from her flushed cheeks.

Desperate for space and clarity, she cleared her throat and exited the alcove, walking to the rails at the rear of the ship to enjoy the cool sea air coasting over her hot, damp skin. “That was an interesting way of marking your territory.”

“I beg your pardon?” She felt him join her and she glanced up at him, a shuttered stare meeting hers.

“Your jealousy could not have been any more obvious, Your Grace.”

Those eyes narrowed. “I was not jealous. I simply did not think that a woman who is a prisoner and a traitor to the Crown should be surrounding herself with fawning admirers who have no idea of her true identity.”

“Oh, so you were concerned for their well-being? How generous of you. What was this, then?” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder to the nook they’d just commandeered, brows rising as anger tore through her. “Punishment? Your way of putting the prisoner in her place as judge and executioner? Seems rather self-serving to me, Your Grace, considering the gratification you gained from your methods.”

That muscle ticked to life in his cheek, a hint of his own ire flashing over his features at the awful accusation. “You know damn well that was not what this was.”

“Then what was it?” Bronwyn swallowed, her eyes falling to the glassy ocean and the white swaths left in the wake of the ship. Moonlight sparkled over the surf, the beauty of it distracting from the certain deadly hazards that lay beneath. That was what Thornbury was to her—attractive on the surface, mortal danger underneath. Like a deadly iceberg. She’d always known that, and yet, she’d been drawn to it…drawn to him.

“I can’t control myself around you,” he muttered and raked a hand through his already mussed hair. “I don’t know why.”