Christian thought of the exchange he’d had with the scraggly boy one week earlier. At first, he’d scoffed at the whelp’s insistence that he knew where she would be. The reward had brought forth all manners of unprovable claims. Christian had ordered him tossed back out onto the street, unwilling to listen. Until the boy had pulled out a black leather mask.
The child refused to tell how he’d come across the info and, when Christian gave him his reward, had run like the hounds of hell were after him. Christian’s men had followed the boy to no avail and the brat lost them among the warehouses lining the docks.
Christian tugged his hat down. “We’ve got at least a dozen guns on that ship.”
Isaac gave him a sideways glance. “That didn’t stop her last time.”
Christian growled and shoved the spyglass at Isaac. He stalked to the wheel.
“Ready the cannons.” A flurry of activity filled the deck as his men followed the order. “And set extra sails. She’s not getting away this time.”
Isaac chuckled from the railing and lowered the spyglass. “No need. Looks like your prey is going to meet us.”
Christian narrowed his eyes and strode to where his friend stood. He yanked the glass back. Sure enough, the brigantine had done an about-turn and pointed straight their way. His pulse jumped. It was her.
It had to be.
He stood there as the distance closed between the ships. And when he raised the spyglass once more, his breath caught. Hair streaming behind her in the wind, she stood at the forecastle. A jolt of awareness surged through him. Her spyglass was trained directly on him. She lowered it and gave a jaunty wave.
“Damnation,” he muttered, spinning to Isaac. “She knew we were coming.”
Isaac shot him a knowing look. “What are your orders?”
“Load the guns. If she tries anything, we take her out.”
He turned his attention back to the approaching ship. The wench had disappeared and he crossed his arms. If she meant to hide from him, he would tear the vessel apart until he found her. He’d have his justice if it was the last thing he did.
The ship neared enough for him to assess the threat. Three dozen men above decks. No cannons visible. He frowned. No weapons at all.
The men’s faces were disguised with leather masks, same as before, and he remembered the frightening speed at which they’d breached his defenses last time. He wouldn’t be caught unawares again.
“Heave to,” he ordered. By the time the sails were lowered, the pirate ship had already done the same and crept toward them at a crawl. Her crew had them beat with their efficiency.
Christian rapped his fingers against the hilt of his sword. What would he do with her? His scalp prickled, and he pushed his unease away. He’d worry about that once she was safely locked away in the brig.
Silence fell over both crews as the ships drew alongside each other. The older man who had presented himself as captain last time stood at the wheel, his face like stone.
Christian left the quarterdeck and strode toward the bow. “Surrender now and the charges you face might allow you to escape the noose.”
The man didn’t move, other than to clench his fists at his side. Christian lifted a brow. The pirate was livid. Before he could ponder why, Isaac’s shout rose from the quarterdeck.
“Behind you!”
The sing of a rope through the air preceded a thump on the deck and he drew his sword as he spun to face his attacker.
“What the...” His breath hissed out. Where the hell had she been hiding?
Her eyes glinted from behind the black mask hiding her face and his gaze raked over her. The shock of seeing a woman in breeches had not lessened and his throat suddenly went dry. They clung to shapely legs and left nothing to the imagination. The top three buttons of her blouse were unbuttoned, leaving a scandalous “V” of skin bared on her chest that her jacket did little to hide.
Desire shot through him, hard and hot. He swallowed as a wave of heat coursed through his veins. God above, he was attracted to her. His lips settled into a scowl. Unacceptable.
It had to be the breeches.
What red-blooded man wouldn’t react like this to those legs? Thatshapely bottom on display for all to see? With a cough, he raised his gaze. She’d tied her hair into a haphazard braid and a black hat pressed low over the coppery locks. A single red feather jutted from it.
She shifted on her feet and gave a pointed look at his blade. He blinked at her empty hands and his gaze flew to her belt. No sword.
“What’s the meaning of this?” he growled.
