“What happened to you?” she blurted out, a slender hand going to her throat.

His brows cinched in disbelief. “You have to ask?”

“Rhystan—”

“As you have so cleverly discerned, Countess, might I remind you that the appropriate form of address is ‘Duke’ or ‘Captain.’ And you were about to tell me what you were doing on my ship.” His frown deepened. “Are you alone?”

“No, of course not,” she said.

He pushed off the desk, rolling his shoulders. “Please don’t tell me that Lord Liverhart is somewhere on this ship, or I will be forced to ferret him out and cast him overboard.”

His unwelcome guest worried the corner of her mouth between her teeth in a gesture that made him desperate to kiss her once upon a time. Now, it only made him want to throttle something. He chose the bottle instead and lifted it to his lips to take another long swig. He then turned to lean over the desk, narrowing the distance between them.

Her eyes lowered to his bare chest and jerked away as if scorched.

“For heaven’s sake, can’t you put on a shirt?” Her cheeks flamed with bright spots of color. “You’re indecent.”

“You are in my cabin, Sarani dearest, on my ship.” He smiled and flexed his pectoral muscles. He’d fantasized for years about how he’d receive her if their paths ever crossed, and while this wasn’t one of the creative ways he’d imagined, he still took perverse delight in her maidenly discomfort. “And I was sleeping until you decided to climb into my bed.”

“I didn’t climb into your bed. I simply mistook the cabins because your men were outside,” she snapped. “And it’s Sara now.”

“What?”

“My name is Sara.”

He smirked. “So English. So tepid. Decided to deny your heritage, have you, Countess?”

“Desperate times,” she said flatly.

Something in her voice made his eyes clash with hers, but he didn’t care enough to delve further. At least, that was what he told himself. He was curious why she was running from India, but he would rather castrate himself than ask.

“You have yet to explain why you’re here and whether I need to feed your earl to the sharks.”

“I have…no husband.” She sucked in a breath. “I’m here with my maid, and you’ve met Tej.”

Rhystan blinked, his thoughts momentarily derailed. No husband? If she went by Lady Lockhart, did that mean she was a widow? He frowned. There’d only been a handful of titled English peers in Joor—a few earls and barons—but he hadn’t cared to make their acquaintance or learn their names. No, the only obsession that had consumed him stood not a foot in front of him.

“Where is he then?” he asked and wanted to kick himself.