She bit his shoulder hard as her body convulsed around him, the undulation setting off his own release as he groaned and yanked himself from her. Supporting her limp body with one arm, he finished in his fist, barely able to keep them both upright.

“That was…” He couldn’t even speak.

“Outstanding.”

He couldn’t have agreed more. There weren’t many ladies who would have been up for an impromptu tiff in a cobwebbed public nook in a tavern, but she had been as amorous as he. Smiling foolishly, they put themselves to rights, cleaning up with a handkerchief, tucking in shirttails, and buttoning up trousers. In all the passion, her braid had unraveled and unpinned from its moorings, so he helped her secure the silky mass.

“I’ve never felt hair like yours,” he said, lifting a fragrant handful to his nose and inhaling deeply. The scent of jasmine invaded his senses.

“It’s just hair,” she replied self-consciously.

“Not yours. It’s like liquid silk through my fingers.” He deftly rebraided the sleek skeins into a thick braid, catching her astonished look. “I have a younger sister who forced me to comb her hair when we were little.”

“Forced you?” Sarani asked grinning.

“Have you met Ravenna?” He sighed and expertly pinned her hair to her scalp, taking care not to scrape her skin before fixing the cap back in place. “The little hellion had me learn all the fashionable girls’ styles one summer in the country when her maid quit because of newts in her bedclothes. Mother said that she would have to do without a maid since she chased Hettie away with her infernal pranks.”

Sarani laughed, her eyes twinkling. “Ravenna is my kind of girl.”

“She likes you, too.”

He pulled her back by the arm, wiping away the remnants of her smudged mustache with his thumb. Her lips were swollen, plump, and dusky red. He couldn’t resist kissing her one last time before they made their way back out to the main hall of the tavern.

Gideon, who was waiting, took one look at them and his brows shot upward. Sarani’s cheeks flamed, but Rhystan couldn’t help puffing his chest slightly. “Not a word,” he told his friend.

“Wasn’t going to say anything,” the quartermaster drawled. “Good to see you looking so hale, Princess.”

Her blush intensified. “And you, Gideon.”

They resumed their seats, and Rhystan ordered a new round of drinks before looking expectantly to his quartermaster. “Find anything?”

“Yes. Finn Driscoll lost a fortune with him when Markham claimed the ships containing his cargo were sunk at sea. But rumor is Markham stripped the ships himself.”

Rhystan had heard of Finn Driscoll. The Irish captain was as ruthless as he was cruel. “Good. Arrange a meeting. The quicker we muzzle Markham, the safer Sarani and my family will be.”