She was late, dammit. Tristan checked his watch again. Three whole bloody minutes late. He fought not to pace the deck, not to give the impression that he cared one whit that his passenger might have changed her mind. He should have borrowed Sebastian's coach and stopped by her residence to provide assistance if needed.

The fog was rolling in. It distorted sounds, gave everything an ominous feel. The ship's lanterns were lit, but they would not hold the encroaching gray at bay. He wondered if the weather had turned her back, but she hadn't struck him as one who was easily intimidated. He wasn't usually a poor judge of character, so why wasn't she here?

Because she'd come to her senses and realized that he would take advantage of her. He wouldn't force her, but by God, he'd certainly work to seduce her. Although he suspected a woman who had been loyal to a man for four years would not succumb easily to his charms. She obviously loved the scapegrace. What sort of man could stay away from her and still hold her heart?

Someone far better than you, mate, more worthy. It didn't bear thinking about. She'd struck a bargain. That was all that mattered. Or so he'd thought.

Damnation. He should have taken the kiss from her when he was in her bedchamber. He was a merchant, a trader. He knew better than to set sail without payment in hand. Payment first, services second. It had been his motto from the moment he'd begun to barter his skills. Always money first. Then if someone decided to back out on the bargain, he still had his gain.

Now, he had nothing to show—

Not exactly true. He removed her glove from his pocket and stroked it through his fingers before bringing it to his nose. After she turned toward the door, he'd stolen it from where she tossed it. He didn't know what had possessed him, except that he'd wanted it and he wasn't accustomed to not taking what he wanted. Her scent of lavender with a hint of citrus wafted around him. He suspected it was a perfume made especially for her. If not, it should be. He couldn't recall ever smelling it on another woman.

What was this insane obsession with her? Why should he care if she had shown herself to be a coward, if she had decided not to make the journey?

He glanced at his watch again. Five blasted minutes. She wasn't coming. His men were waiting for his order to set sail. What was he to do now in order not to look like an absolute fool?

He could leave, decide later exactly where they would go. Or he could tell his crew to stand down, while he disembarked, hired a hackney, and confronted the treacherous—

Through the thickening fog came the unmistakable sound of rapid footsteps, determined, a steady cadence echoing over the wooden planks of the docks. A woman's steps. A slight woman. Seven stones worth. Others followed, more distant.

He fought back the jubilation as she became visible. He wasn't going to give her the upper hand in this encounter. She was fortunate that he hadn't already cast off. Stuffing the glove back into his pocket, he strolled nonchalantly across the quarterdeck and descended the steps to the main deck. Then he sauntered down the gangway to the dock just as she came to a stop, breathing heavily. Even in the dim light, he could see she was flushed. She would be even more so when he claimed his kiss.

"You're late," he said in as flat a voice as he could muster.

Her silvery eyes widened. "I daresay, not even ten minutes."

"Ships run on a schedule, my lady."

She angled her chin. "Yes, well, as I'm paying for this voyage, I expect it to run on my schedule. If you didn't understand that was my purpose in hiring you, then perhaps I should look elsewhere."

He couldn't stop the smile this time. He should have known she'd not apologize. "Unfortunately, any schedule involving a ship is subject to tides and winds."

"Oh, my dear. Will we not be able to leave tonight?"

He wondered at the urgency, but didn't comment on it because it worked to his advantage for them to be underway as soon as possible.

"I think we can manage." A dark–haired woman who didn't seem to be much older than Anne was standing slightly behind her, her eyes blinking continuously as though she couldn't quite believe she was here. Her maid, her chaperone no doubt. He nodded toward the two men carrying her trunk. "Are they coming with you?"

"No, only the trunk."

"Peterson! Get the lady's trunk on board."

"Aye, Captain."

Peterson was a big brute of a man. He took the trunk from the liveried footmen as though it contained little more than feathers. As he passed back by, Tristan said quietly, "My cabin, Peterson."

"Yes, sir." He trudged up the gangway.

"He doesn't sound pleased," Lady Anne said.

"He's a grumbler. You'll get used to it. The men who are on board are there because they choose to be. Those ruled by superstition are remaining behind."

"Will that cause a hardship for you?"

"For you, Princess, I'd suffer any hardship."

She laughed, a sweet sound that wove around him, and he wondered if she were descended from Sirens. He thought he might gladly crash upon rocks just to hear that clear pure tinkling. "You're not going to wait until we're at least on the ship before beginning your absurd flirtation?"

She wasn't going to fall easily, but then he'd known all along that she wouldn't. "Your words are like a dagger through my heart."

"I doubt you can be so easily wounded, Captain." She spoke briefly with the men who had accompanied her. When they left, she indicated the woman who remained. "This is Martha, my lady's maid. She comes with us, of course."

"Of course. Allow me the honor of escorting you aboard." He called out for Jenkins and when the young man joined them, instructed him to escort Martha up the gangway. Tristan extended his arm to Anne.

She wrapped her hand around the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead her up the corridor. He'd thought Lady Anne might tremble, if not with his nearness, then with the anticipation of the journey. Instead, she seemed to become almost somber as she stepped onto the deck.

"Peterson, get us underway."

"Aye aye, Captain."

While Peterson began shouting commands and men began scurrying around the ship, Tristan said, "I'll show you to your cabin."

"I'd rather stay out here while we leave."

"As you wish, but let's get you out of harm's way. Up the steps there."

She did as he bid, and he followed her up, his eyes level with her swaying hips. Once up top, she crossed over to the railing. Joining her there, he realized that the maid was right behind him. She was going to be an inconvenience, but he could work around her.

"Why Revenge?" Lady Anne asked quietly.

"Pardon?"

"Why did you name your ship Revenge?"

Planting his elbows on the railing, he clasped his hands together and stared at the black water beneath them. He'd done similarly the first time the ship that Sebastian had left him on had drawn away from the harbor. He'd thought the sea mirrored his soul. The next morning it had been a brilliant blue that had given him hope once again. "For a good many years the need for revenge gave purpose to my life. It seemed an appropriate name for a ship that would bring me untold wealth."

"It's bad form to speak of money."

"You asked." He shifted his gaze over to her. She, too, was looking out, and he wondered if she was imagining her meeting with her fiancé.

"Whom did you wish revenge against?" she asked.

"I don't know you well enough to share that tale with you."

She did glance over at him then. "I suspect you're a very complicated man, Captain."

"Not really. I see something I want and I take it. It doesn't get much simpler than that."

She looked back out as the ship gave several creaks and moans. A sudden lurch and it was moving slowly through the water.

"I was under the impression you had a fast ship," she said.

"Not when we're in the harbor. We have little moon by which to see. You could have hardly picked a worse night. A daytime departure would have been better."

"Yet you didn't try to convince me to hold off for a better time. Why ever not?"

"Because, Princess, I'm not certain you've been quite honest with me, and you required a midnight departure for a reason."