A small mercy for which she was grateful.
Back in her cabin, where Asha was tidying the cramped space after patching a small mountain of men’s clothing, Sarani had the thought that Asha and Tej did not look worse for wear. For the most part, her servants had been treated well, which gave her hope. Tej had been tasked with helping the ship’s cook. He stirred oats and broth two times a day. And when he wasn’t helping in the kitchen, he was mending sails, braiding ropes, and shoveling coal with the other deckhands, or emptying ducal chamber pots overboard.
She hadn’t spoken to either of them about what had happened in the palace since they’d left, keeping her lingering fears buried. And her worry that her cousin Vikram had to have allies who’d been opposed to her father. Deposing him would not have been easy if her cousin didn’t have support. Getting an assassin inside wasn’t the issue, it was making sure that he would be championed by the British regent as the new maharaja. Sarani grimaced. Talbot undoubtedly would have been salivating at the thought of more control. Pockets would have been liberally lined…enough to commit regicide and enough to ensure Vikram’s new station.
That craven, heartless bastard.
Though she mourned her father deeply, fretting about the past wouldn’t help her now. Even though they were well on their way from India, Sarani couldn’t be sure that trouble wouldn’t follow them, especially since she’d involved the harbormaster in Bombay to help her secure passage. And to be truly safe, Sarani had needed to vanish. Without any trace.
The harbormaster was a trace. A loose end and someone who had seen her. And that worried her.
She hadn’t been exactly silent in the past five years…sticking to her vow to fight where she could. She funneled every cent of her pin money to the local militia and kept her ears open for information. What she’d been doing was easily treason, but her people deserved a chance to fight for the freedoms that had been stolen from them. Even if they didn’t trust her completely, they accepted the little she could do. Sarani had the sneaking suspicion that her father suspected her illicit rebellion, but he’d never done anything to stop her. He might have bent a knee to Britain’s mercy to protect the people of Joor, but a man like Vikram, however, would be nothing but a self-serving lackey.
And he would want her dead.
Putting her worries aside, she washed up at the basin, grumbling to herself about dirt, and shrugged into her night rail and robe that Asha had set out. Though the maid’s duties had changed, she still insisted on serving Sarani as she had in the palace. While Asha drew a brush through her heavy, lank hair, Sarani sighed and absently scratched at her torso. Even her favorite jasmine oil did little to mask the grime. Were there vermin in her clothing? Goodness, for the life of her, she could not stop dreaming of having a bath. If only to remind herself that she was human and to feel clean from her skull to her soles.
“What I wouldn’t give for a bath,” she groaned.
Asha’s hand stilled. “Haven’t you had one?”
“No, why would I?” Sarani’s eyes popped, looking past Asha’s wrinkled nightclothes to her freshly scrubbed skin that shone like polished umber and her clean, shiny hair. How had she not noticed that Asha was cleaner than she was? Because she’d been too busy scratching and being miserable, that’s how. She blinked. “Have you had one?”
Asha blushed, her eyes downcast and full of guilt. “Yes, yesterday. I’m so sorry, my lady. I thought you would have as well, but His Grace mentioned that you were focused on your ship tasks and would have one later.”
Snarling under her breath, Sarani shook her head and clenched her fingers. She could easily have had a bath as well. Rhystan had offered her lady’s maid a bath before extending the same courtesy to her. Not that she begrudged Asha the bath. After all, she was more family than servant. But that devious, underhanded bastard had known exactly what he was doing!
This was just one more move on the chessboard between them. He wanted to torment her. To gain the upper hand. To make her beg. Several of those choice oaths she’d learned rose to her lips as she thought of his last words to her about begging and saw red.
She shoved open the door and crashed into Rhystan’s chamber, intending to blister the hide off the man. And froze.
Good gracious.
It was the most seductive thing she’d ever seen in all her life.
For the love of all things holy, it was unseemly how light-headed she became at the sight of the long, narrow copper tub, shaped like a hollowed-out boat and full of steaming, scented water. A jar of soap and a washcloth sat on a nearby stool along with a pile of toweling.
Sarani glanced around the empty cabin. She stared at the mesmerizing scene and actually moaned. Glancing around, she didn’t hear a sound. Perhaps Rhystan had been called above decks for some urgent matter. Would it hurt if she dipped in and out quickly?
She could be lightning fast.
Oh heavens, she couldn’t!
Rhystan would know, though it would serve him right if she took the bath obviously drawn for him. Sarani scowled. That dratted man didn’t deserve this glorious slice of heaven. The soft slosh of water nearly made her swoon as the ship rolled slightly. And that was all it took for her scruples to disappear like smoke on the wind.
Sod it!
Bolting the cabin door, Sarani stripped off her robe and night rail and climbed in, uncaring that the pernicious rotter of a duke could return at any minute. The minute her feet touched the warm water, she was past the point of reason or caring.
It was divine.
The water soaked in her salt-weathered, moisture-starved skin, and without a second thought, Sarani shimmied down and dunked her entire head beneath the surface. Bliss didn’t even begin to describe what she felt. She’d died and gone to heaven.
As much as she wanted to luxuriate, she also didn’t want to be caught sans clothing in the captain’s bath, so she availed herself of the soap and scrubbed her hair and skin as fast as she dared. She threw a look toward the door, but it was still locked with the bolt thrown. It wouldn’t keep an irate man from kicking it in, but she was hoping that Rhystan would still be a gentleman. Even if she’d broken in and stolen his bath.
Though given the strain between them, it was unlikely.
She hadn’t exactly been the most obedient or accommodating boatswain. In fact, she’d gone out of her way to be contrary, plucking his temper like a master of strings. At first, it’d been to get back at him, but then it became a matter of mulishness. He was determined to break her with menial work, and she was determined to show him he couldn’t.
Using the pitcher at the side of the tub, she rinsed her hair and washed the rest of the suds from her body. Throwing another quick glance back to the door, Sarani hummed her delight and rested her arms along the sides of the tub. Goodness, she could stay there forever.