Page 66 of An Imperfect Scoundrel

“Tell me where you hid the gold.”

“What gold?”

“Goodbye, Mr. Dubois.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ALANA

“Ididn’t take anything!” she screamed, tightening her grip on Captain Shaw’s arms. “I’ll prove it to you.”

He lifted his eyebrows, staring at her for a long moment. Behind him, the crew waited, silent witnesses to her execution.

“How do you intend to prove that?” he asked.

She glanced down at the swirling water beneath her.

How much longer could he hold her over the water before his arms gave way?

“Search my trunk,” she replied. “It’s the only place I could have hidden anything.”

He stepped backward, bringing her over the railing, and dropped her onto the deck. She cried out, pain radiating through her limbs, and curled into a ball, pressing against the side of the ship.

Leaning forward, his arm on one leg, Captain Shaw murmured, “Are you sober now?”

She was going to kill him. She was going to take that cannonball and smash the heavy iron into his smirking face… if he didn’t kill her first.

“Up, Dubois.” Captain Shaw turned to Mr. Evans. “I want the ship searched again.”

“He stashed the items in his clothing,” Mr. Evans muttered, his dark gaze sliding over Alana. “Force him to strip.”

“No, please,” she pleaded, shrinking away from him.

“Why do you protest?” Captain Shaw asked. He jerked her to her feet by her shirt, then brought her level with his face, her feet dangling an inch above the deck. “Is Evans telling the truth?”

“I don’t want to disrobe on deck,” she whispered, her face burning.

“Are you shy?” Mr. Evans asked from her right shoulder.

She glared at him and said as sharply as one could while hanging from someone’s fist, “I have no intention of allowing you to enjoy my discomfort further, Mr. Evans. I’m not denying the request. I’m asking for privacy.”

Captain Shaw held up his hand, stifling Mr. Evans’ retort. “The gentleman has asked for accommodation. As it is I who have accused him of theft, I will determine if he is the culprit.”

Mr. Evans drew his thumb across his throat, unmistakable glee gleaming in his eyes as Captain Shaw flung her toward the ship’s stern.

“March,” Captain Shaw commanded, following her closely.

She could feel his breath on the back of her neck. Anger rolled from him, singing her skin.

“What do you think I took?” she asked softly, afraid to turn around.

“Gold coins.”

“I didn’t take them.”

“Then you should have no difficulty proving that to me.”

He leaned around her, unlatching his cabin door, and pushed it open. Alana slid under his arm, stepping into the room.