Using the pitcher at the side of the tub, she rinsed her hair and washed the rest of the suds from her body. Throwing another quick glance back to the door, Sarani hummed her delight and rested her arms along the sides of the tub. Goodness, she could stay there forever.

Sighing with pleasure at the sudsy warmth, her gaze wandered the room. She had tidied it earlier, though she’d meant to fill his whisky bottles with water. She’d do that tomorrow. Her eyes touched on the polished brass bucket that stood upon the desk and then stilled. They swiveled back in shock at the strange shape that was reflected in its shiny surface.

Why did that resemble a person?

And why did its arms just move?

Squinting at the reflection, she flung a look over her shoulder and nearly screamed at the silent man who lounged just inside the doorway to the privy, his thick arms across his chest, one ankle propped over the other. The duke wasn’t breaking down the sodding cabin door because he was already in the blasted cabin.

“Don’t let me stop you,” he drawled as their gazes collided, his eyes heavy-lidded and hers stunned senseless.

Sarani found her voice…and her modesty, clapping her arms over her exposed bosom and hunching down, despite knowing that he’d already seen all there was to see and then some. It hadn’t been more than a handful of minutes before she’d dropped her drawers faster than a doxy on the wharves for a florin. A heated blush roared its way up her neck and onto her cheeks.

She bit her lip. “What are you doing in here?”

“This is my cabin,” he pointed out. “And that’s my bath.”

“Why didn’t you announce yourself, then?” she snapped.

He smirked. “And miss all the fun?”

Shoving off the frame, he prowled into the room. Sarani’s gaze chose that inopportune moment to snag on his superbly bare chest and the rest of his body clad only in loose trousers. Her breath hitched, skin going hotter. She was equal parts panicked and aroused, her eyes gorging on that broad expanse of tanned skin and the fabric that stretched over bunched thighs with every step. Had he always been this enormous?

“Don’t come any closer,” she warned.

Horribly aware of her own nudity and the fact that the only things separating him from her were those thin linen pants that hid nothing—not even that thick bulge at a very grievous eye level—Sarani reminded herself to breathe. If she swooned, she’d never forgive herself. And if she kept ogling his groin, she’d have to kick her own arse.

She cleared her parched throat. “Turn around. I wish to get out.”