Page 43 of An Imperfect Scoundrel

A small light flickered in the distance, fluttering like a firefly.Was it a Naval ship?His eyes flicked to the cannonball.

“No, please,” Mr. Dubois pleaded, clasping his hands together. “I swear to remain here, in this very chair, until you return.”

As Cedric debated Mr. Dubois’ words, the clanging bell repeated its urgent pattern.

If the Navy caught them, it didn’t matter what Mr. Dubois discovered in his cabin.He pulled his pistol and pointed the barrel at Mr. Dubois.

“Move before I return, and I will shoot you.”

CHAPTER NINE

ALANA

Captain Shaw spun and exited the room, his threat hanging in the air.

The door slammed behind him, followed by the light click of a lock. Waiting until his footsteps faded, she leapt up from the chair and hobbled to the window, her curiosity overpowering his warning.

What had he seen?

Pressing her face against the cold glass, she strained her eyes, searching the darkness. A tiny light appeared to her right, bobbing faintly in the ocean. Then a second beam emerged, smaller than the first but growing steadily.

They were being followed!Her heart leapt into her throat.It had to be the Navy. They were going to be rescued!

The ship lurched, and Alana stumbled, crashing into the window, then rebounded into the desk, knocking the chair aside as she struggled to maintain her balance. Her fingers wrapped around the edge of the desk as the ship gained speed, zipping across the water as though the ship wasn’t even touching the ocean.

But that wasn’t possible.

Regaining her footing, she released the desk and turned, her hesitant gaze returning to the window. She already knew what she would—or in this case, wouldn’t—see.

Dread settled in her chest. The lights had disappeared.

“It’ll be alright, Alana,” she said aloud. “It could be worse.”

“You swore to remain in the chair!” Captain Shaw’s deep voice rolled through the cabin.

She whipped around with a squeak.

“I fell.” Voice trembling, she pressed herself into the wall, her head knocking against the window’s cold glass.

“You fell?”

He kicked the door closed, keeping his dark gaze on her.

“The ship. It’s moving faster.”

She gestured at the window, hoping to explain her location, then darted around the desk, using the side for balance. Grabbing onto the back of her chair, she scooted around the side—thankful the cannonball rolled without resistance—and dropped into her seat.

His eyes followed her movement. “That it is.”

“Why?”

“You’ll learn soon.” His ominous words swirled around her.

He walked to the desk, apparently unaffected by the ship’s higher speed. His eyes paused on the chair, and a strange look passed over his face. Scooting the chair back into its original position, he glanced at her.

“Was Alana the name of your wife?”

Damn, he’d heard her!