Page 11 of An Imperfect Scoundrel

“They were on my ship.” The menacing growl emanating from Rowland’s throat chilled Cedric’s blood.

He exchanged a glance with Mr. Hayward.

After the failed mutiny, Rowland sailed to Ceresus and replaced his entire crew—those that survived his wrath—refusing to work with any of the men again. That was the reason both Cedric and Mr. Hayward gained employment on the notorious pirate’s ship. Rowland had accepted anyone who hadn’t previously sailed with him.

“Is that your only motivation for refusing them?” Cedric asked, his voice quiet.

“Yes.”

“Even with them, we still don’t have a sufficient crew.” Cedric pointed at the list.

“Ah, the true reason you’ve both appeared at my door.”

“Let’s describe this as a mutual exchange of benefits,” he said, lifting his gaze to Rowland, “Cheswick’s head for a reliable crew.”

Rowland leaned back in his chair, taking his glass of whiskey with him. He sipped the liquid, his eyes moving between Cedric and Mr. Hayward.

“It’ll be difficult to convince anyone to sail with you after this last incident with the Navy. They’d either have to be deranged or desperate.”

“I’ll take both.”

“It’ll take some time before I can convince anyone,” Rowland replied with a snort. “Once they’ve spent their gold, they’ll be more apt to forego reason and sign. Cheswick’s ship isn’t due for two weeks.”

Two weeks. The expiration date of his life.

Either he’d succeed, return to England under a new guise, and rescue his sister. Or he’d fail and end up shark food on the ocean’s floor, leaving Dinah to the mercies of an arranged marriage, wheels he was certain his father had already put into motion.

“Even with my help, you’ll still need more men to outrun the Navy after you attack the vessel conveying Cheswick to Boston,” Rowland added, setting his glass back on the table.

Cedric frowned. “What do you suggest?”

“When given the choice between his life and service on a pirate ship, most men will choose to work on the ship. Build your crew with the hostages.”

Leaning forward, Mr. Hayward set his elbows on the table. “Wouldn’t that increase the chances of a mutiny?”

“It would.” Rowland’s gaze flicked to him. “But without the additional hands, you’ll be captured before that happy event could occur.”

Mutiny or arrest—neither option boded well with his plans. Cedric shifted in his chair, a minute gasp escaping as the skin around his wound separated, pulling against the stitches.

Was he a fool tempting fate?

CHAPTER THREE

ALANA

“Abeautiful lady, such as yourself, shouldn’t be traveling alone.” A hand slid over the small of Alana’s back, dipping dangerously close to her butt. “It’s unsafe.”

She jumped, startled by the whispered words brushed against her ear, and the intimate—almost inappropriate—caress. Fire in her eyes, she turned and stepped backward, her arm raising to strike the man.

“Which is why she isn’t alone, Mr. Cheswick.” A woman slid in front of Alana, captured her hand, lowering her fist, and spun around, tucking Alana’s arm behind her back.

“Mrs. Parker.” Mr. Cheswick greeted her with a cold nod. “I wasn’t aware the lady was a friend of yours.”

“She is.” Mrs. Parker jutted out her chin. “And she also happens to be married.”

“Of course.” His eyes slid to Alana, who’d moved to stand beside Mrs. Parker. “I should like to meet your husband, Mrs.—”

A dark grin crossed his thin lips, as if he knew Mrs. Parker had lied for Alana.