Whatever she might have said was drowned out when the door to her cabin swung open and slammed against the wall. She and Petey sprang apart at once, but it was too late. Gideon was staring at them with thunder on his face.
“You and I had a bargain, Hargraves. And it appears you aren’t keeping your end of it.”
Though the blood drained from Petey’s face, he pulled himself up straight. “It wouldn’t have been right to leave without sayin’ goodbye. An honorable man wouldn’t have done it.”
“An honorable man wouldn’t have sold her out for gold, either. Did you tell her that? Did you tell her you were more than happy to take wealth over her?”
When Petey merely shrugged, the look on Gideon’s face made Sara’s heart skip more than one beat.
He comes, so I must go. But be bold. He is your husband, no? The worst he can do is wound your pride," she pointed to Eleanor's chest. " he cannot hurt your heart unless you let him
Sabrina JeffriesWill it do?” he asked as he folded his arms over his chest.
She turned to him. Her eyes grew shuttered and any sign of pleasure vanished from her face. “I suppose I can endure it.”
As if he couldn’t tell she liked it.
No one had ever told them they were worth saving, and they were taught to believe they were forever lost to a world of thievery, prostitution and murder. But it wasn’t true. They were capable of more. She could tell from the way some of them helped each other, the way others sat down at once to begin sewing, the way Ann took aside one of the little boys and patiently showed him how to pick a pocket—
Sabrina JeffriesHorns. The skull had horns His heart sank. Only one pirate ship bore that flag—the Satyr.
To make sure, he looked for the figurehead. When he saw the telltale carving of the mythological half-goat, half-man, he groaned aloud. Then he lifted his glass, and saw the black-haired man standing in the bow. It was the Satyr, all right. And its demon owner Captain Gideon Horn.
“Tis the Pirate Lord himself!
Good day, ladies,” he said with a distinctly American accent when all the women were above decks and the hatches closed. With a grin that took some of the edge off his fierce looks, he surveyed the crowd and added, “We’ve come to rescue you.”
His words were so unexpected, so completely self-assured that Sara bristled. After all his blatant methods of intimidation, after he’d stood there surveying the women like cattle before the slaughter, he had the audacity to say such a thing!
“Is that what they’re calling thievery, pillage, and rape these days?” she snapped.
She realized she’d been staring only when he said, his voice lower and huskier, “Who are you looking for?”
His words snapped her out of her terrible trance. “I . . . I . . .” she thought furiously and said the only thing that came to mind. “For you. I was looking for you.”
Suspicion flashed in his sea-blue eyes. “In the rigging?”
“Yes. Why not?”
“Either you’re very ignorant about what a captain does, or you’re lying. Why is it?”
Ignoring the plummeting sensation in her stomach, she forced a smile to her face. “Really, Gideon, you are so suspicious. Last night you accused me of plotting behind your back, and this morning you accuse me of lying. Who else would I be looking for but you?
If we don’t get a good day’s work out of you, we’ll maroon you.”
He ignored Barnaby’s raised eyebrow. They’d never marooned anybody before, even the English nobles they hated, but Gideon meant to put the fear of God into the man.
If you put it up, I’ll just take it down again.” His voice lowered to a throaty hum, “And you know what happens when I take your hair down.
Sabrina JeffriesHow dare you give the poor woman trouble over those nasty biscuits! If you made biscuits worth eating, sir, perhaps she wouldn’t throw them to the fish!”
He blinked his eyes in astonishment. “Biscuits worth eating? I’ll have you know, madam, that I bake the best biscuit on the high seas!”
“That’s not saying much, considering that ship’s biscuits are notoriously awful!”
“It’s alright, Louisa, you needn’t defend me—“ Sara began.
Louisa just ignored her. “Those biscuits were so hard, I could scarcely choke them down. As for that stew—”
“Look here, you disrespectful harpy,” the cook said, punctuating his words with loud taps of his cane. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with Silas Drummond’s stew, and I defy any man—or woman—to make a better one!
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