His hand rose toward her, and Sarani held her ground. His thumb swiped across her cheek in an unbearably soft stroke, wiping away the stray drops of seawater that had landed there. She wanted to lean into that wide palm, remember the way he used to cradle her jaw, but she kept still, reminding herself that this wasn’t the same man she knew. He hated her, scorned her, thought her a jezebel. He’d written as much.

She let out a breath. “What do you expect of me?”

“One of the men was supposed to be my new cabin boy,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll come to a suitable arrangement, Lady Lockhart.”

The carnal smile that slid across his lips was decidedly predatory. Sarani couldn’t hold back the shiver that chased down her spine, but she straightened it until it felt like the bones might snap. He might be the captain here, but there were still rules of decorum that needed to be followed. She was a lady…and he was a duke. Modesty would have to be maintained, for both their sakes. She might be at his mercy for the moment, but she was not his plaything.

Or a helpless pawn.

She made her voice as haughty as possible, stepping out of reach of the palm resting against her face. “I am not a boy. And my body is not for your consumption.” Not that she hadn’t been above offering up said body in her private thoughts a few minutes ago.

Heat flickered in his gaze, his hand poised in midair between them. “I am well aware. Don’t worry, my lady. I won’t ask you to do anything that breaks with civility. Much.”

Holding her gaze, he raised his thumb to his lips and sucked the salt water he’d gathered from her cheek. The act was blatantly sexual, and transfixed by the lush lick of his tongue, Sarani felt her mouth go dry. She felt that decadent swipe right at her core and squeezed her legs together beneath her skirts. Though he couldn’t see that reaction, his lip tilted in a smirk as if he knew exactly how flustered she was. Goodness, was it sweltering in here?

“Then I consent to these terms.” She gulped.

“Unless, of course, you desire it. Consumption, that is.” His voice was reduced to husky gravel that made her nipples tauten and push through the silk of her gown. Rhystan’s eyes dipped to them, his hot gaze as palpable as if he’d yanked down her bodice and dragged his tongue over them. Sarani bit back the moan that crept into her throat.

“I will never desire it. You. Anything.” The lies tasted bitter in her mouth.

He knew it, too. His smile widened.

“Sweet dreams, Princess,” he said, turning on his heel toward the deck ladder at the far end. “Don’t catch a chill.”

Sarani frowned. “What?”

“You’re soaked through, too.”