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Bea moved back toward the rail of the ship, and the small boat rocking below. With her hands free and the gag gone, she could perhaps get down to the boat… And leave Wenna and little Gawan here to be sold into slavery?

No, she could not.

The men tugged Myghal, his head bleeding, his cheek scraped, to his feet. Passing his dagger from hand to hand, Pierre approached the sheriff. “Like I told my lady, I rule here. And since we shall not be coming back this way again, your usefulness is done.”

With that, he shoved the dagger into Myghal’s stomach. As Bea quickly looked away, the sheriff screamed in agony, then gasped as Pierre twisted the terrible knife. Myghal made a horrible choking sound and his body fell onto the deck with a sickening thud.

Despite what Myghal had done, tears started in Bea’s eyes and she could scarcely breathe.

“Throw that dog over the side,” Pierre ordered as he roughly grabbed Bea’s arm. “Now come, my lady, and join me in my cabin.”

“T HIS IS MADNESS , Kiernan, madness!” Celeste cried as she watched him adjust the girth of the saddle on one of the garrison’s horses in the courtyard, now lit with several flickering flambeaux.

“You won’t be able to see anything in the dark, and there are bogs and quicksand and all sorts of dangers out there. ”

“Would you have me stay here?” he asked, turning to look at her. “I don’t love Beatrice, but I value her as a friend, and her cousin loves her dearly. When I think of what Constance will feel if her cousin is never found…” He could only shake his head as he went back to his task.

“You care about Lady Constance more than me? How will I feel if something happens to you? I can tell you—my heart will break.”

Kiernan glanced over at Ranulf a short distance away, then answered her plea quietly, although it was unlikely that Ranulf could hear what was said over the noise of his men preparing to ride out. “I do care about you, Celeste, very much. You gave me the best night of my life.”

His voice grew resolute, and so did the look in his eyes. “But I must help find Beatrice.”

“Will you at least promise me that you’ll be careful?”

“I do. I will,” he vowed, looking down into the lovely Celeste’s anxious face and seeing the fear she had for him in her eyes.

He remembered the passion, the laughter, and the sense that more than mere desire had bloomed between them last night.

She was not Constance, the serenely unattainable.

She was certainly not the loquacious, unladylike Bea.

She was a woman who’d suffered, who longed to have a home.

Who needed him, as he needed her warmth, her desire, her admiration and respect.

Unable to resist, wanting to reassure her and to tell her that what they had shared was no mere brief, meaningless encounter, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately, regardless of who was watching.

B EA STUMBLED and nearly fell as Pierre shoved her into his dimly lit cabin. She sprawled upon the table bolted to the floor, then immediately rose and turned, leaning against it, ready to kick and bite and scratch if he so much as touched her.

“My lady!” Wenna gasped. She was huddled on the floor in the corner, her face scratched, the shoulder of her gown torn, her child cradled against her breasts.

Bea didn’t dare do more than glance at her as Pierre, who still held that terrible dagger, kicked the door shut. She quickly surveyed the rest of the cabin, seeking any kind of weapon.

There was nothing obvious—no knives lying unguarded, no mace, no spear, no arrow, no stick, no piece of metal, not even a cup or plate.

There was only the table, a chair, a cot against the wall and likely attached to it, and a lantern reeking of sheep’s tallow hanging by a chain from the ceiling.

She might be able to reach the lantern and pull that down.

The chair shifted a little every time the ship rocked; maybe she could pick that up and hit him with it.

Holding to the edge of the table, she began to sidle toward the chair.

“What are you doing, my lady?” Pierre asked silkily. “Do you think to put that table between me and you? Or to strike me down with that chair?”

She froze.

“You see how I anticipate you? You are not so clever after all.”

“Or perhaps you’ve been hit on the head with a chair before.”

He chuckled, the sound as monstrous as the rest of him. “Other women have tried to stop me from doing what I wish, but like them, you will not succeed.”

He raised his dagger, as if he were admiring it in the lantern’s feeble light. “You really ought to cooperate, my lady, unless you want that woman to lose her child, and possibly her life.”

Wenna groaned aloud and little Gawan began to wail.

“Shut that brat up or I’ll throw him over the side,” Pierre ordered with a harshness at odds with his former tone and more in keeping with his ugly face.

Trembling, Wenna opened her bodice and put her babe to suck.

Had Wenna been hurt? Or raped? Bea didn’t know, but at least she was no longer alone. Perhaps together they could somehow overpower Pierre and escape. As long as Myghal’s boat was still tied to this ship, there was a chance.

“Now, my lady, I think it is time we came to terms,” Pierre said.

“Terms?” Bea replied, forcing herself to look at him. “I don’t talk terms with murderers and pirates.”

“You should. Otherwise your journey will be very unpleasant. If you do as I say, it should be…better.”

“How can any voyage taking me to slavery be made better? ”

Pierre sat on the edge of the table and tapped the tip of his blade lightly on the top.

“You could have this cabin for your accommodation. Otherwise, I’ll put you below with the rest of my men.

I’m sure they’ll be very glad to have your company, and by the time we reach Tangier, all the fight will have been raped out of you. ”

Even though her stomach turned with revulsion, Bea’s mind worked quickly. There was no point appealing to this man’s mercy or kindness—he had none. What he appreciated was money and profit. “What sort of worth will I have if you do that?” she charged. “Very little, I think.

“At present, I’m a virgin,” she lied without compunction. “How much more will a virgin be worth to a man who has a harem?”

Pierre’s brow furrowed, and she pressed on.

“Treat me well, and you will get more for me. Treat Wenna and the child well, and the same holds true for them. Wenna’s pretty, and the child strong—any man of intelligence could see he’ll grow into a strong boy and a strong man.

But abuse and starve us and you might as well let us go home. ”

Pierre sniffed derisively. “You talk like a slaver yourself, my lady.”

“I’ve seen the difference between well-treated servants and those who are not.”

Pierre rose and sauntered toward her. Despite her wish to appear brave, she couldn’t help backing away, until her head hit the sloping cabin wall. “Clever as well as pretty, eh? Perhaps I should forget selling you and keep you for myself.”

“And what will you tell your crew? That you put them at great risk to get me and then changed your mind? Won’t they demand some sort of compensation?”

Pierre laughed harshly and shook his head. “ Sacrecoeur , you know men!” He tilted his head. “How did you come by this knowledge, I wonder, if you are a virgin as you claim?”

“A woman doesn’t gain wisdom by spreading her legs,” she retorted.

“Indeed, one could argue that in some cases, she becomes a fool if she gives her heart, as well. I can guess what your crew is likely thinking because my father was one of the greediest, most clever schemers in England. He planned for years to get what he wanted, and he couldn’t gain his ends alone.

He needed men like you and your crew, mercenaries who care only for the number of coins in their purse.

I was brought up listening to his talk of plans and deceptions— what one man would want to help him and what would satisfy another, who he would discard easily and why, and who he must keep close.

I sat like a dutiful daughter and learned duplicity at his knee. ”

Pierre’s suspicious gaze searched her face.

She saw his doubts and uncertainty, and a little flame of triumph flickered into life.

“And there is something else you’ve obviously failed to consider.

If you sell me as you plan, the man who buys me will be rich, and rich men have power.

I’m a beautiful woman, and beautiful women have been getting men to do what they want for centuries.

I’ll find a way to make that man turn against you.

I’ll make the man who owns me your enemy. ”

“I will be in Marseilles,” Pierre scoffed. “What harm could he do to me there?”

“Rich men can’t hire assassins? Rest assured, Pierre, I’ll make you sound like evil incarnate. I’ll tell my master a pitiful tale of the indignities you forced upon me and the things you made me do.”

She spoke with firm conviction, as if these things would surely come to pass, and gave free rein to her imagination.

“Do you doubt that if I tried, I could charm a man into doing whatever I wanted?

That in his bed I could pour such a tale of sorrow and mistreatment, and make you sound so terrible, that he would feel he was doing mankind a favor by killing you?

“Nor would I stop there. I’ll tell him you’re not just a smuggler, you’re a spy, one being paid to overthrow his country’s rulers. What might happen to my rich master if that happens? He would foresee disaster and do everything to stop you.”

“I’m a smuggler, not a spy! I have never worked for kings or noblemen!” Pierre struggled to regain his self-control. “Besides, I would be far away.”

“But who can say what schemes you set in motion before you sailed? I’ll tell him you’re a spider sitting in a web of intrigue in Marseilles, the center of a vast conspiracy against his country.

I’ll tell him things I heard you say aboard your ship—of the money you were going to get, how you laughed at his people and made sport of his religion. ”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Wouldn’t I? What would I have to lose? I’ll tell my master I’ve fallen in love with him, that his prowess in bed has won my heart, and I’m trying to save him from your schemes. Rich men are often vain, and what man wouldn’t believe his skill between the sheets has made a woman love him?”

Staring at her incredulously, Pierre backed toward the door. “You’re…you’re mad!”

Bea walked toward him, the prey having become the predator. “I’m a woman you’re going to sell to a rich man. I’m a woman who’ll do everything in her power to bring you to your death.”

“Stop talking or I’ll kill you!” Pierre roared, raising his dagger as if he would truly strike her down.

“What then would you tell your crew? Where would their profit be? And do you think my death would stop Sir Ranulf, Sir Henry and Lord Merrick from seeking you out and bringing you to justice?”

“Aye!” Wenna said suddenly from her place on the floor.

“The folk of Penterwell will be after you, too. They’ve guessed it’s you been doing all those terrible things.

They know your name, your ship, your men.

They’ll tell Sir Ranulf everything if you kill her—by God, they’ve probably told him everything already.

You took their lady, you stupid oaf, and they’ll want you dead just as much as he will! ”

His face full of fear, Pierre reached around and fumbled for the latch of the door.

“You’re already a dead man, Pierre!” Bea cried as he slammed the door shut behind him.