Without waiting to see if she followed, he made his way back to his own cabin two doors down. Instead of resuming his seat behind the desk, he rolled up the maps and waited, hips perched on the edge of it. He debated pouring another drink but decided he’d had enough, and he needed to be somewhat clearheaded in dealing with Sarani, considering the mood she was in. Though his current state of sobriety was debatable.

“If I have to come out there and get you,” he warned, “you’re not going to like it.”

She entered the cabin a few seconds later, face defiant and hands clasped behind her back. Her sleek jet hair hung loose past her shoulders. Rhystan couldn’t help noticing that she had donned a soft, green muslin dress. It was a simple morning dress, but it suited her. The color set off the green-gold flecks in her eyes and made her honeyed skin turn luminous. While the sight of her in trousers made his blood heat, he couldn’t deny that she was lovely in a gown.

“No trousers?” he asked.

“They needed to be washed,” she said. “I tripped in the paddock.”

He clamped his lips together to keep from grinning. Red had reported that she had indeed fallen on her arse right into a steaming pile of cow shit while cursing up a storm, most of it directed at Rhystan. “You look nice.”

“What can I do for you, Captain?” she asked. “I’m exhausted, and I’m sure you didn’t summon me here to talk about my appearance.”

“You told Asha you were in danger. What did you mean?”

A host of emotions crossed her expressive face. “You were spying.”

“It’s my ship.”

She glared at him. “Yes, I’m well aware that a person can’t be expected to have any privacy in your presence.”

He arched an eyebrow, drumming one finger against the wood of the desk and holding her gaze in a silent battle of wills. Eventually, she sighed and her eyes fell away. They’d been full of wariness and vulnerability. He sensed her hesitancy, but he needed answers and he would have them.

“Sarani?”

She exhaled, hazel eyes flaring at the use of her given name, the words following in a rush. “The reason we left India is because my father was murdered. And I believe whoever killed him is on that ship that’s been following us. With the intent of finishing what he started.”

* * *

The confession wasn’t as difficult as Sarani had thought it would be, though Rhystan was still blinking in stunned surprise as if he’d been expecting something else. She assumed that he would have thought she was running from a scorned lover or an irate husband. Not a murderer.

“What happened to Lord Lockhart?”