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A strong wave shook the ship, and Michael skidded backwards. His head struck one of the masts, and he grimaced at the impact. Salt water sprayed the deck while in the distance, he heard the crew shouting orders to one another.

When he scrambled to the place where he’d been attacked, there was nothing. Not a trace of the man, as though his assailant had been a phantom. Only the raw abrasions on his throat gave any evidence that he’d very nearly been strangled.

“Lieutenant Thorpe?” Lady Hannah called out to him. She hadn’t seen what had happened, from the questioning tone of her voice.

Michael didn’t turn, his attention fully upon the shadows. He didn’t want to endanger Hannah if his attacker returned.

“Is everything all right?” she inquired, drawing closer to stand beside him. “You seem distracted.”

“I’m fine.” His voice came out hoarser than he’d intended, and he coughed to disguise it. He withdrew her handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and offered it back. She took it, handing him his watch. Her fingers lingered upon his palm.

Behind him, he heard a slight shuffling. He didn’t know whether it was another passenger or the assailant, but he didn’t intend to remain standing about.

“We need to get off the upper deck. Now.” Without waiting to find out who the intruder was, he grasped Hannah’s hand and pulled her through a door.

The stairs led to the private state rooms, and Michael continued through the maze of first-class rooms until he located hers.

Thankfully, she didn’t argue with him but let him escort her back.

“Where is your maid?” he demanded. “Why are you alone?”

“I dismissed her to our room a few moments ago. I didn’t think—”

“It’s not safe for you to be alone on this ship. Not ever.” Though he didn’t mean to snap at her, he didn’t want her risking her well-being on his behalf.

Before he could open the door to her room, Hannah reached up to his neck. “Dear God, what happened to you? You’re bleeding and the skin is raw.”

“Don’t concern yourself over it.”

He was about to leave when she held up her hand. “Wait over there while I send away my maid and Mrs. Turner. And if you disappear, so help me, I will seek you out. We are not finished talking.”

He didn’t doubt that. She was stubborn, far more than was good for her. But after she entered her room, he ducked behind the corner to wait.

Several minutes later, the cabin door opened, and he saw her maid leading the way down the hall, followed by Mrs. Turner. Michael waited until the women reached the far end and then approached Hannah’s door.

She stood waiting for him, her expression hesitant. He knew, as she did, that it was entirely improper for him to even be near her cabin, much less inside it.

“You didn’t need to send them away.”

“You wouldn’t tell me the truth if they were here. And it’s best if no one knows about our conversation.” Hannah steeled her posture, nodding. “Come in and let me tend that for you.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned and went to her dressing table.

She poured water into a basin, dipping her handkerchief into the liquid.

When she risked a glance at his neck, she gave a perceptible wince.

Though her intentions were good, he doubted if she’d ever tended a wound before in her life.

To avoid embarrassing her, he took the damp cloth from her and swabbed at his throat, surprised that there was more blood than he’d thought.

“Tell me what happened,” she demanded, keeping her gaze firmly fixed upon his eyes and not the abrasions. “I want the truth.”

“Someone tried to strangle me, just before you came.”

“Were they trying to rob you?”

“Trying to kill me, more like,” he admitted.

She froze, her hands falling away. Her complexion paled, and she clenched her fingertips. “Do you really believe that?”

“It’s not the first time someone has tried to do so,” he admitted. “Usually it was someone on the opposite side of the battlefield.” Reaching out for one of her hands, he asked, “Are you afraid he’ll come after you as well?”

Her hand was cool within his, and she swallowed, as if trying to find her courage. “Would you protect me if he did?”

His lips curved slightly. “What do you think?”

She didn’t answer but tried to pull her hand back. He retrieved the damp handkerchief and touched the raw skin at his throat again.

Hannah stopped him, her hand bumping against his. “Wait. You’re missing it.”

Without asking permission, she loosened his collar, untying his cravat to reveal his skin.

Though the water was probably cold, he hardly felt the temperature.

Instead, he was intensely aware of Hannah standing between his legs, her hands upon his skin.

He was growing aroused just being near her.

The green gown she wore accentuated the swell of her breasts, the curve of her waist. But it was her innocence that was even more alluring.

She didn’t seem to understand what her simple touch was doing to him.

Awkwardly, she dabbed at his flesh, her lower lip caught between her teeth as though trying to overcome her distaste for blood. He held himself motionless, willing himself not to respond.

“Why would anyone want to kill you?” she asked. A slight shiver crossed over her before she studied his skin, searching for any other wounds.

He didn’t answer, offering a shrug.

“Maybe because someone believes it’s true,” she murmured. “That you have royal blood.”

Michael didn’t acknowledge her guess, though he agreed with her prediction. There was no other reason for anyone to kill him.

“Fairytales aren’t true, Hannah. A common soldier doesn’t simply become a prince.”

He could smell the faint scent of jasmine, and when she’d finished washing his throat, she kept her hands upon his shoulders. “Unless he already was a prince. And didn’t know it.”

Catching her wrists, Michael drew her hands away. “Don’t do this, Hannah.”

Confusion clouded her gaze. Then abruptly, she seemed to grasp his meaning. Her face colored, first with embarrassment, then anger.

“Were you trying to make a fool of me?” she demanded. “Bidding a thousand pounds for a handkerchief?”

He kept his mouth shut with no intention of explaining himself.

“You made them believe that we were lovers,” she continued. “That I’d given myself to you.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” He stood up so suddenly that her hands fell away. He needed her to realize that she was tempting the devil, whether or not she intended to do so. Possibly frighten her a little, so she wouldn’t risk coming too close.

“You had no right to blemish my reputation before all of those people,” she whispered. “I left London to start over again. And now they are talking about us.” She stepped backwards, her hands clenched at her sides.

He stared hard at her, willing her to see the truth. “You don’t want your freedom as much as you think you do. You like the rules you pretend to despise.”

She held still like a wild animal about to flee. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand perfectly.” He closed the distance, resting his hands on the wall behind her. “You want it both ways, don’t you? You want them to believe you’re a lady when you secretly desire something else.”

“No. That’s not it.” She shielded herself with her arms, hugging them to her chest.

He let his hands slide down to her small waist, feeling the tightness of her corset beneath the gown. “Why did you bid on the pocket watch?”

She looked guilty. “Because I didn’t want the women treating you that way. Like a piece of meat fought over by dogs.”

“I don’t care about what other people think of me.”

“Perhaps you should.” Her breath hitched when his hands slid up her spine once more. “You’re not at all the man you pretend to be.”

“I’m the kind of man you shouldn’t be alone with.” Lowering his mouth to her chin, he let his mouth nip the edge of her flesh. He tasted the light sweetness of sherry upon her mouth and waited for her to strike out at him. The kiss made her tremble, but again, she didn’t order him to leave.

Instead, her eyes filled with indecision, almost as if she were considering letting him ruin her.

“You’d better find that candlestick,” he warned. “Or I won’t be responsible for what happens. I’m going to take that forfeit now.”

“You would never harm me,” she whispered. To emphasize her prediction, she rested her palms upon his heart. The slight touch made the muscle contract faster within his chest.

He wasn’t quite so confident. Just being near her, touching her in this way, was making it difficult to concentrate.

Her scent was shredding his restraint, and he realized she was waiting for him to act. Her mouth was softened, slightly open in anticipation. But he didn’t take her offering. Not yet.

He pressed his mouth to her throat, kissing a path down to her exposed collarbone. She shuddered in his arms, not offering a single protest.

The taste of her skin, the way her palms moved up to cup his neck...he wasn’t certain he would be able to stop if she let things go much further.

Michael removed his gloves, letting them fall to the floor. His hands moved to the back of her gown, unbuttoning the first few buttons. “This isn’t part of the forfeit any more.” He grazed her shoulder with his teeth, kissing the soft place and evoking a sigh from her throat. “Order me to leave.”

One word, and he would go. She could lie in her nightdress tonight and remain untouched.

“I’m going to take my forfeit, too,” she whispered. “You’re going to make me forget all the rules.”

Deliberately, she caressed his head, bringing her hands back down to his shoulders. Her touch made his body tighten with a greater frustration.

He unfastened another three buttons, baring more silken skin before tilting her face to look at him. Her body had been touched by no other man, he was certain. Only him.

He didn’t know why she was letting him take such liberties, but he suspected she wasn’t thinking clearly. “Do you want another kiss as your forfeit from me?”