The pirate frowned. “What do you think, ladies? If he had tochoose, would it be the wife of his best friend?” He reached out and ran the back of his knuckles over Samantha’s cheek before swinging his weapon toward Josephine. “Or his new lover?”
Her pulse roared in her ears as the tip of the blade settled against her neck. The metallic tang of drying blood filled her nose and she swayed, the deck spinning around her. A hand closed around hers with a reassuring squeeze.Samantha.
Her breath shuddered as she focused on the planks beneath her feet, the hum of the wind in the rigging—anything but the man in front of her. The moment seemed to stretch into eternity, the steady thump of her pulse slowly bringing her back. Finally, Thorne shrugged and flicked the blade down, the razor-sharp edge slicing through the bindings at her wrists. She glanced at him, brows twisted as the ropes fell to the deck.
He waved her forward. “I think your dear lieutenant would enjoy some company during our trip.”
When she hesitated, the pirate captain gave her a push toward the gangplank. “Go on.”
Her heart beat wildly at the prospect of going back to Thorne’s ship. But when she raised her gaze, Isaac stood there, still flanked by the two pirates. She wouldn’t be alone.Hewouldn’t be alone.
So, she leveled her chin and stepped back out onto the precarious board. This time, her steps were even. She made it halfway across when the wood trembled beneath her feet.
Thorne stepped out. “A Caribbean girl such as yourself does know how to swim, right?”
Josephine froze as he closed the distance between them.
“Leave her be, Thorne.” Isaac’s voice rang through the air, heavy with command.
“Calm yourself, Lieutenant. I’m not always as heartless as you think.” Thorne scratched his chin. “Though, it’s been a while since I’ve made someone walk the plank. I’ve forgotten how very much I likethis.”
“Damn it! I had your assurance of her safety.”
“And here she is, alive and safe.” The pirate drew a circle in the air around her with his blade. “You didn’t specifywhere.”
Isaac jerked his arms, twisting from the grip of the brutes holding him. He swung, fist crashing into the jaw of the nearest one before two more jumped forward and held him back.
Thorne grinned. “That’s more like it. I was beginning to think I’d pegged you wrong.” He lifted his sword and pressed the sharp point between Josephine’s shoulder blades. “Go on now.”
She hurried the rest of the way across, vaulting over the railing to stumble onto the deck. As soon as she regained her footing, she flew straight to Isaac and threw her arms around him. His heart slammed against her cheek, the wild thumps betraying his rigid posture. The pirates dropped his arms and he folded them behind his back.
“Steady, Miss Montclair.” He murmured the words so only she could hear.
With a swallow, she released her grip and stepped back. His blue eyes looked over her shoulder, deliberately ignoring her while Thorne strolled across the plank and stepped onto the deck. He stopped short of them and met Isaac’s gaze. An uneasy silence stretched while he regarded them with sharp, calculating eyes.
Finally, the pirate’s lips twitched. “Welcome to theAvenger,Mr. Caldwell.”
Isaac’s lips drew into a thin line, but he didn’t respond to the captain’s intentional slight. He’d been demoted.
Thorne walked past him, nodding to his men in an unspoken command. They burst into life, climbing the rigging and setting the sails. “I apologize we don’t have a cabin for you on such short notice.”
Isaac followed him to the stairs leading to the quarterdeck. “Well, maybe you should have thought that through before dragging her back on board.”
Thorne’s eyes narrowed and he waved the two pirates back over. “Take them to the brig then. If they want privacy, they can have it there.” Without another look, he climbed to the helm, his silhouette dark against the setting sun.
One of the brutes grabbed Isaac’s arm and dragged him forward. Josephine swallowed and followed them to the main hatch. Down the narrow steps they went, into the bowels of the ship where the light faded and the stink of sweat and gunpowder grew thick. Another hatch and the brig loomed below—iron bars bolted to beams carved in the hull. The door creaked open on rusted hinges, and the men pushed them in.
After locking them in, one of the men hooked a lantern onto a crooked nail, and they both climbed up. The hatch cover banged shut and Josephine flinched. Dim light pulsed with each sway of the ship, breathing unease into the narrow cell. Every creak of the hull, every gust of wind through the planks, and the walls seemed to close in a little tighter.
Isaac stood with his back to her at the door, his head leaning against the bars. She stepped forward, but he lifted a hand. “Give me a moment.”
The lantern flame flickered, casting shadows that danced across the walls, painting his face in shifting hues of grief. She didn’t move. Couldn’t.
The silence between them stretched—thick, suffocating—wrapping around her ribs like iron bands. The cost of what he’d done haunted the damp air, heavy and unspoken. They stood that way for what seemed like hours, breathing in the same heavy silence, as though a single movement, a single word, might shatter them both.
The thud of boots came from above.
Josephine stiffened as the hinges groaned again and the hatch door swung open. He descended the stairs like a shadow given life, each slow step tugging the darkness after him. He didn’t speak as heapproached, eyes gleaming in the low light like a cat watching cornered mice. A crystal glass rested in his fingers with several fingers of amber liquid that caught the light like fire. A key dangled in his other hand.
