Page 98 of An Imperfect Scoundrel

“I believe you recognize this weapon, Mrs. Dubois. It was the same one you used when you attempted to take my life the first time we met, but you failed in that task as well.”

Grabbing her arm, he yanked her to his body, pulling her in tight, wrapping his arm around her chest. Placing the edge of the knife against her throat, he spun her toward the railing, pushing her over the ocean.

“I’m going to help you,” he murmured in her ear.

“I want to watch her blood spill.” Mr. Evans’ cruel voice floated over his shoulder.

Cedric stiffened, anxiety pouring from his body.

“I have no intention of cleaning the deck again.” Mr. Wickes’ deep baritone countered Mr. Evans’ request.

The crew agreed, several of them protesting the suggestion of additional work.

Stabbing the knife into the railing, Cedric pulled Alana away from the railing and spun around.

“Evans, I’m tired of being questioned at every turn. This ismyship. Perhaps you would like to explain your mutinous intentions.”

“I have none,” Mr. Evans replied, his voice filled with mollification.

“Speak against me again, and I will cut out your tongue.”

Mr. Evans bowed his head, confirming his understanding of the threat.

Turning around again, Cedric wrapped his arms around Alana, untied a rope wound around the railing, and attached that rope to the coils binding her arms, hiding his actions under the pretense of verifying the security of the knots.

“You’re going to get wet again, but you must trust me,” he whispered, pressing his mouth against her ear.

“How can I trust you?” she murmured, her eyes dropping to the water churning behind the ship. “You’re a pirate.”

“I’m also a man.” He touched his lips to her skin, brushing the softest of kisses across her temple.

“I’m frightened.” Her voice cracked.

“I know, and I’m so very sorry to put you through this ordeal.”

Jerking the knife from the railing, his arms constricted around her chest, and one hand slid into her hair, grabbing the strands and yanking. He bent her backward, exposing her throat, then spoke in a clear voice.

“This will hurt.”

The crew cheered.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

ALANA

Pushing Alana against the railing, Captain Shaw touched the blade to her throat, the cold metal caressing her skin. Her breath caught as a sharp twinge bit into her neck. Holding the blood-stained blade in the air, he waved the knife back and forth, encouraging the crew’s boisterous shouts.

She felt faint and swayed unsteadily on her feet.

That was odd… being cut didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would.

His hand slid to the center of her back, shoving her forward.

She tumbled over the side of the ship, somersaulting once, plunging feet first into the ocean. Pain greeted her, the ocean’s saltwater coating her torn skin in agony and ripping the gag from her head. Choking on a scream, she swallowed a mouthful of water and kicked her feet in a useless effort to swim.

The rope tied around her waist tautened, dragging her through the water like a fish caught on a hook. Jerking her forward, the cord dragged her back to the surface, and her head popped out of the water.

She sucked in a lungful of oxygen, grateful she didn’t sink back below the waves.