Rhystan held his breath, watching the myriad of emotions play over her expressive face. He gave no quarter to the small but necessary lie he’d told. He had given the order to shorten the remaining distance to the port and to restock in the dark, which had cost him more than a pretty penny and a few favors, but they had been for his own plans.

He needed her.

The slight fabrication was simply a means to an end. The more his own strategy to avoid wedlock and the caprices of his mother solidified in his head, the more he needed Sarani to cooperate. Forcing her hand would not lose him any sleep. The lie he’d invented about reports of a man searching for her would be the clincher.

Sarani was clever and sensible; it was only a matter of time before she saw the benefits of such an arrangement. Once she got past the emotion, that was. He knew where her concern stretched from… He hadn’t exactly won her friendship or loyalty. Or treated her with a modicum of respect or fairness. He had given her no reason to trust him, not with his recent behavior.

And she didn’t. Rhystan could see it in her eyes.

But he didn’t need her to trust him; he only needed to convince her to agree to what was on the surface a logical solution. Though he had to admit that a dark part of him was deeply elated at the idea of having her in his grasp under the guise of an engagement. To anyone who mattered in the ton, she would be his. And when it was all said and done and he’d gotten what he wanted, he would walk away…just as she had.

Two birds, one stone.

A pair of suspicious hazel eyes narrowed on his as though she’d sensed his train of thought. “What do you get out of a sham engagement?”

He debated telling her the truth and then shrugged. She would see through anything else. “My mother has grand plans to thrust me into ballroom upon ballroom of debutantes on my return. I’d rather avoid such torture if possible.” He exhaled. “That’s where you come in. If I arrive with a fiancée, it hinders her plots.”

“You don’t wish to marry?”

“I belong to a demanding mistress.” Rhystan saw the stark confusion on her face before he waved an arm at the surrounding sea. “The ocean owns me, body and soul.”

“But you’re a duke,” she said, a frown pleating her brow. “You have…duties.”