“Yes,” he said. “But first, I must secure my place among these men or risk murder or mutiny. And we need to establish your character as one on which these pirates mustn’t prey.”
Satisfied by her small nod, Percy resumed his focus on theSapphire.
“This is mutiny!” the earl blustered, as men marched past, their arms laden with items from the hold. “Put that back! Those are my?—”
Percy’d had enough. “Bind the earl,” he called. “Be sure to clear the magazine and armoury, but leave the earl’s wardrobe. Collect abandoned weaponry and ammunition and, for God’s sake, raid the cabins.”
He couldn’t risk the earl knowing the documents were on the pirate ship, or hell would be on their tails. The blackguard’s wardrobe—crates of boots included—mustremain with the earl.
“Aye, Cap’n,” several of the pirates replied in chorus.
A jolt of pride, followed by a swift thread of panic, burst behind Percy’s ribs, and he gritted his teeth and nodded. He couldn’t—bloody wellcouldn’t—be pulled into the ocean life again, regardless of how the pirates’ piety made him feel.
I killed Butcher. The panic in his chest swelled.Fuck.
“Y’want us t’kill ’im, Cap’n?” one of the crew asked.
Percy gave a sharp shake of his head. “No. That won’t be necessary.” He wasn’t the pirate they thought he was. Not anymore.
A noise of agitation came from beside him, and Percy turned toward the source. Heather’s gaze was fixed on theSapphire, herbrow furrowed in concern and her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.
He followed her line of sight to several pirates carrying wilting potted plants across the deck. They were in a sorry state, indeed.
“What environment would be best for their revival?” he asked in an undertone.
Her pained green gaze flicked upward to meet his. “Partial sunlight and fresh water.”
He nodded, then called to the men carrying the pots. “Put the plants in my cabin.”
Steadfastly resistingthe urge to press herself into Percy’s side as the pirates passed with items from theSapphire, Heather focused instead on the warmth spreading through her chest. Even while he was embroiled in piracy politics that were beyond her understanding—Was he truly the captain of the pirates simply because he killed that Butcher fellow? Did the position not fall to the next in line?—Percy had considered the well-being of her plants.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He gave another nod, his gaze still on the trussing of the earl. They’d gagged him as well, but his face had grown so alarmingly purple it appeared about to burst.
“Look wha’ we found quiverin’ in th’ ’old!” one of the pirates exclaimed, dragging a tearful Berta out of the companionway.
Percy stiffened beside her, and Heather’s breath caught in her throat.No!Berta couldn’t be caught—she wouldn’t be safe among the pirates!
“No,” Heather whispered. “No, Percy, they can’t.”
“Leave her and the other women!” Percy bellowed. “Do as you’re told, or you’ll join the dead when we give them their sea burial.”
The men worked quickly and efficiently, gathering items from theSapphireand bringing them aboard the pirate ship, and Heather couldn’t help but notice the stares the pirates gave Percy as they passed. To her astonishment, they watched him with not only wariness but…awe. It made her wish she shared their knowledge.
“Percival,” said a low voice behind them.
Percy whirled and blinked, first in confusion and then in shock, as he took in the man before them.
“Hell’s tits, Donovan!” His teeth gleamed in a broad smile as he clasped the pirate’s large hand and shook it.
“It’s bloody good to see you, friend.” The wide man nodded vigorously and smiled, revealing only slightly yellowed teeth in return.
The pirate was nearly as tall as Percy, though he had more breadth, and where Percy’s smooth, slightly tanned skin glowed rosy in the sunlight, Mr. Donovan’s was a deep, glorious mahogany that seemed to absorb the sun. They grinned at each other, but while their dark gazes locked, Heather sensed that a wealth of unspoken words passed between them.
At last, Percy cleared his throat. “Heather, this is Donovan. I’ve known him since boyhood. Donovan, this is Miss Morgan, a fearsome and highly respected runner from London.”
Another burst of warmth flared in Heather’s chest as she greeted the pirate. He ducked his head, his eyes curious and also filled with what seemed to Heather like profound sadness, and perhaps relief.
