Cold if marginally sheepish eyes met hers. “Already done.”

Because they weren’t putting into port…they were leaving port.

“Done?” The word emerged as a shriek. “But I’m to disembark.”

“Too late.”

Her mouth fell open. What did that mean? Had they somehow already refueled? Confusion was followed by awareness of the fact that they were leaving the shipping port—her only avenue for escape. “Turn this ship around! I demand it.”

“Can’t. Captain’s orders.”

Hissing a foul curse through her lips, Sarani grabbed the wheel, but the damned thing wouldn’t budge beneath Gideon’s hold. Not that she expected she could turn the blasted ship with a flick of the wrist, but she wasn’t just going to stand there and be told she couldn’t leave. She was a grown woman and she’d made up her mind, damn it to purgatory.

Damn him to purgatory. Captain’s orders, her foot.

“Where is that insufferable horse’s arse?”

In a fit of rage, she whirled and nearly collided with the broad, hard chest attached to the insufferable arse in question. Her gaze slid up to the smirk on his full mouth, and she very nearly punched it. “I wish to get off.”

His smirk widened at her unfortunate choice of words. Blast it, was everything an insinuation with him? Rhystan planted his hands on his narrow hips.

“No.”

“No?” she repeated, fury sparking. “You cannot keep me a prisoner on this ship. I demand to leave immediately.” Rhystan’s gaze slid to Gideon, and the man left after their silent exchange until she and Rhystan stood alone on the quarterdeck. Sarani’s hands hovered over her blades, the meaning clear enough. “Explain.”

His brow lifted infinitesimally at the threat, looking more amused than afraid as he took the wheel, and she scowled. But then he let out a measured exhale, steel-gray eyes capturing hers. “It’s not safe, Sarani. I used the rest of the coal stores to get here under cover of night so that we could resupply and leave quickly. You should know that there are reports of a man looking for someone of your description and willing to pay heavily for information on your whereabouts.”

Her anger instantly deflated. Oh, no. How had the murderer caught up to them? The winds had been favorable, but they would have been for his ship, too, and the route they’d taken would have led straight to St. Helena. She swallowed, her legs threatening to collapse.

“England is the safest choice for you,” Rhystan said quietly. “I can turn this ship around if that is your wish, but I urge you to reconsider my proposal for both our sakes—an engagement for the sake of mutual convenience, no strings attached.”

Her eyes fastened on him. “What do you mean?”

“If you won’t marry me, then pretend to be my fiancée, Sarani. That’s all I ask.”

* * *