Wedded another.

It was Gideon who found him half drowning in drink and opium and convinced him to join the privateering ship leaving Bombay. Rhystan had kept the small miniature of her that he’d had on his person—inside a locket he’d intended to gift her—but before he left, he’d written a reply to the princess of perfidy herself. His sentiments had been less than kind, but he’d left the note behind with most of his Royal Navy trappings, not caring whether it reached her or not. Obviously, it had. That pompous, bigoted arse of a vice admiral must have delivered it to her.

Not that Rhystan had cared.

But now she was here. On his ship. As intoxicating as ever. She’d always held some mystical sway over him, though he was older now. And wiser. She’d had her chance and thrown him over for a marriage to a peer. Lady sodding Lockhart.

Once he outran the storm, Rhystan intended to get some answers. Namely why she needed passage so bloody quickly to England, why she was traveling only with a maid and a houseboy, and what had happened to her husband. Other burning questions like why she’d chosen to turn her back on him would never escape his lips.

She’d made her bed, and he’d made his.

Doesn’t mean you can’t share one now.

The sly thought made his raging desires flame anew. He thought of her straddling him on the bunk, the feel of her trim ankle in his fingers and the heated rise of her bosom. He’d been a hairsbreadth from yanking her down on top of him when he’d realized who she was. The comprehension had been like a bucket of ice-cold water to his brain. The rest of his sex-starved body, however, continued to march on, despite reason.

Even now, drenched in salt and frigid spray, he wanted her.

Perhaps he should have sought out willing female company before they’d left port that last night in Bombay and braved the consequences. Anything would be better than the lust eating away at him. Rhystan shoved a hand through the wet clumps of his hair, ignored the demands of his stiff nether regions, and focused on the matter at hand—steering them out of the path of the oncoming storm.

“You truly intend to put her to work?” Gideon asked, piercing his thoughts.

He ignored the man’s tone. “Yes. They took the places of two boatswains. Everyone contributes onboard.”

“She’s a lady, not a servant.”

Rhystan scowled. “She’s a goddamned princess. But she came here under false pretenses, and she’ll pull her weight like everyone else.”

“And the men?”