“I suppose I should thank you,” she said to the quartermaster. “For all your help these past weeks.” He gave another noncommittal grunt. “For what it’s worth, you have my gratitude. I better get back belowdecks, wake Asha, and retrieve our things.”
She retraced her footsteps, dimly registering that the ship’s nose pointed out to open water. Within seconds, sails were billowing and they began to gather speed. The shapes of other ships became smaller and smaller, and she could no longer see the outline of land. Sarani halted, blinking her confusion. Shouldn’t they be slowing?
“Gideon, do we not need more coal?” she asked, stalking back to the quartermaster.
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.”
* * *
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.”
“I have stewards to see to those duties, including my mother the duchess and her army of servants, who do a much better job than I could.” He sucked in a breath. “I return to see for myself that the lady’s health is hale, to check on my sister, and to offer gifts to my sister-in-law and my nieces. Then I intend to leave.”
She blinked. “You have a sister?”
“Her name is Ravenna,” he said. “The unfortunate youngest of four with three older brothers.”
“Brothers?”
His heart squeezed with forgotten sorrow and guilt arced through him that he hadn’t spoken of them to her…or to anyone. “Dead, along with my father.”
“I am sorry.”
Rhystan shoved the sentiment back where it belonged, down deep, and hardened his expression. “Your answer, my lady. Which is it? Do you wish to return to St. Helena? Or do you agree to my proposal?”