She made to leave just as the cabin door crashed open and Asha cried out with a shriek, burying her head beneath the thin woolen blanket. Sarani’s heart slammed into her throat at the looming sight of the windblown captain crowding the doorway. Anger and frustration brimmed in his eyes, and a part of her wanted to join her maid in cowering under the covers.

“Don’t worry, Asha,” Sarani soothed the girl. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” With a glare, she walked to where the silent, seething duke was waiting, his harsh features unreadable. “Was that necessary? You scared her half to death.”

“My ship, my rules, my doors.”

“Your poor temper, too, clearly,” she shot back.

His mouth tightened. Sparing the maid the obvious confrontation, Sarani followed him into the narrow corridor, crowded by his bulk. Another even larger man with a shaved head waited at one end, blocking the way. She blinked. Did Rhystan think she would run? Flee overboard?

A sudden heave of the ship had her careening toward him, and rough hands reached out to steady her. She felt the leashed strength in his fingers, smelled the sea on his clothes, and forced herself to look up. His lips were flat, those steely eyes guarded. Neither of them spoke, a thousand hours of raw memory ricocheting between them.

Sarani’s entire body hummed with awareness.

Gracious, he only had to touch her and she was ready to launch herself into that solid chest. Strip herself bare and throw herself at his mercy, though a hard man like him would have none to spare. He would use her thoroughly. That dissolute thought made her burn hotter.

The captain shook his head, droplets of water catching her face. One flicked to her lips, and she tasted salt. Swallowing hard, she raised her eyes to his damp hair. “You’re soaked,” she murmured.

He blew out a breath and released her, a muscle beating in his jaw. “You’ve won.”

“Won?”

“There’s a cyclone on our heels,” he gritted out. “If we turn back now, we’ll be blown off course. So you get your wish, Princess. Passage to St. Helena at least.”

She blinked. “St. Helena? The shipping port?”

“When we stop at the coaling station there to refuel,” he said, “you’ll find alternate passage, I’m sure.”

It was more than she’d expected. “Thank you.”

He scowled. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ve cheated me of two of my much-needed men, and you will need to take their place. It’s a long journey, and we need every sailor onboard to pull his weight.”

Disbelief replaced relief. “I’m not a boatswain—”

“Clearly,” he said. “But you owe me. An eye for an eye. A man for a man.” Rhystan smirked. “Or woman as the case may be. You’ll have to get those delicate hands of yours dirty.”

“I’m not afraid of hard work.”