“Some of the most bloodthirsty—and loyal—upon the seas.” He slipped his arm around my waist as we stepped down the tumbledown stairs together. “Red?”

“Yes?”

Jack looked down at me with such intensity, I feared he may hoist up my skirt and have his way with me, right there on the stairs that led down to our cabin. I shifted my weight. Under the bulk of his stare, I realized then and there that I may be the one to immodestly hike my skirt for his pleasure, without any worry as to who might wander onto the stairs to the captain’s quarters and bear witness. A blush warmed my cheeks, but something else flamed hot between my thighs.

What is this side of you, Red?

Jack paid my obvious bewilderment no mind. “Not all pirates are princes, Red. And not all pirates are seers and guardians like The Poison Lightning. And not all pirates are simple like Tommy. You’re keen witted and brave. Trust those wits.”

I nodded as the flash of want for my pirate husband drained from my face and body and a chilled fear replaced it.

He smiled again and wrinkled his nose at me. “I’ll be down later. Keep the bed warm for me.”

Our thick wooden door scratched slowly across the floor. I struggled to open my sleep-heavy eyes. “It’s about time,” I attempted to tease. “I was beginning to think you’d rather spend the night with your ship’s mates than with your wife.”

Jack didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped inside and pushed the door shut, hard. His steps were heavy and offbeat.

“Sounds like you’re tipsy, Jacky.” I sat up and rubbed my eyes. The darkness was too thick to make out anything other than his shape. “Come on now and lay down.”

Jack’s heavy steps stopped at the side of our bed. Still, he had not spoken a word.

I shifted on the mattress. “Was the rum good?”

He grunted as I heard his britches slide down to the floor.

I sucked in a breath.

He’s certainly acting odd.

“Jacky?”

“Jacky, bleh.”

I froze. The blood in my veins went icy.

That is not Jack’s voice.

“Is that what you call the fearless leader of The Black Otter Fleet? Jacky?” The voice’s owner coughed deeply and spit on the floor. “Before you think about doing something stupid and opening your fool mouth, you ought to know I have a blade at your neck right now. Move or cry out—and you’ll feel it.”

All the new faces from The Spanish Rose, and even the old ones from The Black Otter, flashed through my mind. I kept my mouth shut and tried to visualize the room I shared with my husband. Surely daggers were stashed about, here and there. Like the cutlass under the mattress. The swords over the door. But that was too far to grab in a pinch like this.

Jack had his cutlass on him, as he always did, and the only other blade I knew for sure was hanging over the door, with mine. If the mysterious intruder truly had a blade to my neck, I’d be dead long before I could reach my steel no matter which blade I went for.

“Jacky went on and on about you. About his Red. What an angel you are—” His words, thick with a jealous hatred as he climbed onto the bed beside me. “Well little angel. You are about to get a taste of the devil.”

The sword he promised met the skin of my neck as he climbed shifted his weight and climbed on top of me. His manhood’s hardness pressed against my inner thigh like a weapon in itself. I shifted my hips to keep it as far away from me as I could.

Please, don’t.

The contorted face of the one-handed man came to mind, followed by that of the smarmy Charles Swan.

No, the voice wasn’t squirrelly enough for Swan and his thin moustache. Dark Water William, perhaps? The tall African hadn’t spoken a lick to me or where I could hear since I’d been on board. Maybe, but this voice sounded like it belonged to a white man.

“My, you’re a wiggly little whore, aren’t you?” He pressed his knee against my thigh and sent a shooting pain down my leg. “That’s all right, I like a little fight in my whores.”

The skinny one-eyed man with the maniacal laugh? The bearded starer, Red Legs Roberts? Icy fingers of fear gripped my backbone as the sharpness of the blade bit deeper into my neck.

I struggled against his weight, but he dug his free knee into my other leg. “Ah, there we go now. Get ready to buck, little whore.”

You’re dead, Red. Dead Red. He won’t let you live, even if you let him have his way with you.

I sucked in as deep a breath as I could manage as he maneuvered his body and struggled to enter me.

I held my breath.

It’s now or never. You’re dead either way.

“Help me,” I shrieked. “Somebody—”

“Now you done it.” My attacker grabbed my hair and positioned the blade under my chin. “You don’t know how stupid you are. Nobody in The Black Otter fleet gonna believe your word over mine.” He jammed the blade against my neck. “And adultery?” he seethed. “On the high seas, it’s punishable by death.”

The door to my room slammed open with such force that it banged into the wall with a sickening crack. Somebody roared an angry roar before the dagger fell away from my neck. A body thumped on the wooden floor of the captain’s cabin I called home. When the clouds wisped away from the moon and a silvery light lit our room, I found myself staring into the dark, staring eyes of Red Legs Roberts.

He sheathed his sword and offered me a nod. “Ma’am.”

We looked in tandem at the unconscious man on the floor. “It was the one-eyed man,” I squeaked. Tears moistened my eyes, but I willed them not to fall.

Red Legs Roberts’ voice was more scratchy than I figured. “Might want to put something on that neck.”

Sure enough, blood dripped down my chest and arm in a steady, sticky stream. “Oh.”

A lantern lit the doorway. “What in God’s Blood?”

“Jack, thank heav—” The words squelched on my tongue when I saw Russian Jack’s lantern-lit face. Those piercing green eyes were fiery black, while the gentle, boyish features I’d admired just this morning were contorted in angry, stormy planes. If not for his tell-tale fur hat, he would have been near unrecognizable, even to me.

“Solo,” he growled, “bring these three up on deck.”

Jack whirled and the light he carried faded as he disappeared up the steps. The one-eyed pirate’s words buzzed in my ears.

Adultery is a killing offense. He won’t take your word over mine.

“You’re already dead, Red,” I whispered.

Solo didn’t look at me as he grabbed the one-eyed pirate by his collar. His britches were still around his ankles. “Up you,” he commanded.

“He’s called Piranha, Solo,” Red Legs said. “Used to sail with Captain Kidd.”

Solo ignored him. “Both of you who can walk. Best get up to the deck like Cap ordered.”