Rhystan flinched at his sister’s cool address, though Sarani saw remorse blanket his expression. Likely, he knew how much he’d hurt her with his high-handedness. Ravenna understood what was expected of her…but like most intelligent, independent-thinking girls, she wanted to have some say in her own future, no matter how small.

“It did not sound like nothing,” he said. “It sounds wonderful. Will you play it again for me, Ravenna?”

His sister brightened, relieved that she wasn’t going to get a scolding or perhaps even understanding that he was extending an olive branch. “Do you truly wish me to? It’s only the first measure of the song, but I’m certain that I can manage it now.”

The duke nodded and moved to sit on the sofa beside Sarani. She held her breath, his very presence stealing the air from her shrinking lungs, every inch of her body acutely aware of every inch of his. Heavens, he smelled divine. Like salt and storm and pure male, as though he’d just stalked from the quarterdeck of his ship.

Sarani fought the urge to breathe him in and commanded her body to be still. It was a losing battle. She could hear each inhale, feel every rustle of his clothing. If she listened hard enough, she was certain she could hear his pounding heartbeat. Or was that hers?

Winding her fingers into her skirts, she’d just decided to make her excuses and flee the room—and his presence—when he spoke.

“I’m sorry for what happened in the carriage. This, being both brother and duke, is new to me.”

Sarani peered up at him. “Ravenna only wants to be heard.”

“I know.”

The sultry notes of the shehnai wound between them like silken drapes, teasing her already frail senses. She had to depart before she did something truly untoward…like climbing into his lap and sealing her lips to his.

“I cannot stop thinking about you,” he whispered.

She froze in place. “I beg your pardon.”

“Since the ball, my nights have been torture.”

Hers had, too, if she was being honest. Sleepless, restless…waking with the sheets bunched around her waist and her body drenched in sweat, she was plagued by dreams that bordered on indecency. She didn’t dare think of any of them, or her face would give her scandalous thoughts away.

“Is that so?” she murmured, staring at Asha and Ravenna, who were lost in their own musical world and would not notice if the roof caved in over their heads.

As if determining the same, Rhystan leaned toward her ever so slightly, the side of his muscular arm brushing the sleeve of her dress, and Sarani swore that sparks arced between them. Her cheeks flamed. Ducking her head, she attempted to compose herself. Goodness, she wished she didn’t blush so easily. Or that her body wasn’t so…weak where he was concerned.