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“Apologies, lads. A warm bed with the accompaniment of a skilled bit of muslin is hard to leave.”

The men around them broke into leers and laughter, mugs of ale already being lifted and lewd comments being shouted. He felt Lisbeth stiffen, but tapped his fingers over her torso. She’d changed into a pretty blue dress with a modest neckline and long skirts. Raphael knew that shewould have blades strapped to her legs, and the thought of her armed while looking so deceptively harmless made his blood heat.

He liked the thought of that. She was a woman who could take care of herself.

A lethal force.

He’d never met anyone like her…so able to put on any face as though she’d done it many times before. Right now, she looked innocent and sweet, but she would cut her way through half the men in this hall before they could lay a finger on her or Narina. For her part, the girl was wide-eyed, taking in the great hall that had been designed like a medieval gallery, complete with sweeping tapestries and the heads of mounted game.

“Bugger my eyes,” she whispered to herself, and Raphael smothered a laugh. The child’s untoward tongue could rival those of some of the filthiest deckhands.

“Nari,” came the swift whispered reprimand from Lisbeth.

He wished he and Lisbeth had had longer on the beach and hadn’t been interrupted, and not just because the addictive taste of her was embedded in his senses. He had spilled his secrets, but she had yet to share hers. Raphael would bet his entire ill-gotten fortune that whatever she was hiding had to do with Dubois. But what? How had he wronged Bonnie Bess?

She hasn’t always been Bonnie Bess.

The voice in his head was sharp. Who was Lisbeth Medford? He’d have to have his men look into who shewas, once they arrived with his ships. He leaned down to press a kiss to her hair after he’d seated her and Narina in places at the first table near the dais. He wanted to be able to see them at all times. His lips grazed Lisbeth’s ear. “I like you like this. Quiet and biddable.”

Raphael had to bite back a laugh at the flash of ire in those green eyes before it was hidden by her lashes. Mouth flattened, her fingers clutched convulsively over her thigh as though they were on the cusp of reaching through the fabric for whatever weapon was concealed beneath. With a grin, he moved away before she could give in to the temptation of making him bleed.

He sprawled indolently in a chair at the main table and folded his arms over his chest before eyeing Dubois. “What the hell was so pressing that you had to call a meeting of every soul on the island?”

Dubois’s expression slipped and his face soured at Raphael’s tone. No one else had the audacity—or the power—to speak to him like that, and he resented it. “The ship that has just arrived in the harbor is one of mine. The captain received word that there were customs agents waiting at port so he pulled in here for a spell until things died down in a day or two. He was en route to Tampa.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Raphael asked.

Dubois tutted. “So impatient, my dear boy. Patience is a virtue.”

“So is pleasure,” Raphael shot back and blew a noisy kiss at Lisbeth. Amid a new round of raucous cheering, she pretended to catch it midair, eyelashes fluttering, andclutch it to her breast. God, she was good. Narina made a gagging sound and rolled her eyes.

“Well, my boy, since youlostyour own ships and cargo in Tobago, I thought you might be itching to get your sea legs wet again. My captain has taken ill, you see. And you’re a captain without a ship at the moment.” Dubois paused and steepled his fingers. “Some of the goods are perishable,” he went on. “I’ll give you a cut of twenty percent.”

If Raphael hadn’t been looking right at Lisbeth, he would have missed the sharp flare of interest in her gaze at the offer. No doubt it had to do with the destination of the ship. Was that a coincidence? That his uncle’s ship was headed to Tampa…the same port as theSyren?

Or perhaps her interest was only out of concern for Narina and getting the girl off the island. He shared the sentiment. This was no place for a child. Exuma had a slim code of conduct, yes, and it was a neutral zone, but some of these men were hardened monsters who’d traded in flesh before. In the years leading up to the American Civil War, Dubois himself had supported the slave trade and supplied the Confederate Army with arms. The man hadn’t cared where his fortune came from or whether it was steeped in blood.

Yet another reason to rid the world of his ilk.

Soon.

Raphael pretended to consider the offer. Like the unfortunate events that had led him to incarceration in Tobago, it was most certainly a trap. There was no way that Dubois would offer up twenty percent of the value of the goods in the cargo hold if he didn’t have someulterior motive. Would customs agents be waiting to take him into custody?

“Why can’t you take the ship in?” he asked.

Dubois sighed as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Alas, I have urgent business in Nassau that calls for my attention. One of my crews was decimated by yellow fever. And I’m scheduled for a delivery in New York by the end of the month.”

“And no other captain here is capable or headed to Florida?” Raphael pushed. “Delaney? Madge?”

Both men shook their heads and stared into their cups as if they’d been instructed to refuse. “They are otherwise occupied with their own ships, and I need someone I can trust,” Dubois said. “And you’re the only one.”

Raphael quirked his lips upward and canted his head as though appreciative of the praise. “Fifty percent, Uncle, and I inspect the hold and choose my crew.”

Dubois’s fleeting look of triumph solidified Raphael’s suspicions. “Very well, dear boy. You drive a hard bargain, but I’m in your debt.”

It was an easy promise for Dubois to make, considering his motives.

If Dubois had his way, there’d be no debt to repay…because Raphael would be dead.