Page 48 of The Duke With the Dragon Tattoo

She glanced over toward Barnaby, pleading at him withher eyes. Now was his chance. If he had the pistol, he could train it on the Rook and convince him to let them all go. If any of the crew showed up, it would be too late.

What if Barnaby shot the Rook?

The thought lanced a confounding fear and grief through her chest. She’d not overtly mourn a violent murderer. But to watch a man with Ash’s beloved features die would crush her spirit into the dust.

What to do?

The Rook slid closer, lifting her chin, though her eyes darted anywhere they could to avoid his empty gaze. “You have more courage than you used to.”

She really didn’t. She’d always been timid. Afraid. She’d cowered beneath the heel of a tyrant her entire life and would rather freeze at night or starve at mealtimes than displease her own servants. A dive into the treacherous sea sounded far more comfortable than a verbal spar with anyone, let alone a pirate.

If she could dissolve into the very mist that surrounded them, she’d sell her soul to do so now.

“I—I didn’t mean to steal from you. I’m sorry.” Was shereallyapologizing to the man who’d murdered her brother, kidnapped her, her family, her favorite employee,andher kittens? “T-to be fair, you ruined my bodice,” she reminded him hesitantly.

A few masculine chuckles erupted from the mist, and Lorelai’s heart sank further as she realized they were surrounded.

Surrounded… by pirates.

The Rook’s fingers tightened on her wobbling chin. “You should have stayed where I left you.”

Veronica whimpered from behind her, and poor Barnaby’s head dipped so low, he looked as though he wanted to disappear into the basket with the kittens.

Somehow, their fear emboldened Lorelai, and she rested a hand on the Rook’s thick wrist, her resolve clicking into place. “What if I made you an offer?”

His gaze flicked to where her hand rested on his skin. “I’m listening.”

“Let Veronica and dear Barnaby go, and… and I won’t try to escape you again.”

More laughter. That didn’t bode well, at all.

His fingers stroked from her chin to her jaw, testing the downy skin there. Oddly, she salivated, and was forced to swallow as a wash of foreign awareness poured over her like warm honey.

“There is no escaping me, Lorelai.” His silken voice deepened to a husky velvet. A threat of inevitable seduction. A promise of possession.

Lorelai’s knees trembled, and she could have sworn the calm seas had become decidedly choppy beneath her.

Barnaby stepped forward, one hand out. “Don’t you give a worry for me, m’lady. There inn’t no need to—”

One look from the Rook silenced him, and he took a step back.

“Barnaby needs no saving,” the Rook said. “He’s been a loyal member of my crew for almost a decade, now.”

The wash of warm awareness became a splash of cold betrayal as she gaped at her employee. “Barnaby?” He’d been a plant? A spy sent to inform on her to his ruthless captain? Tears pricked her eyes. She’d thought they were friends, that she’d saved him from the workhouse.

Was there no one on this earth she could trust?

“I needed someone loyal in your household,” the Rook explained dispassionately. “And onlyyouwould hire a doddering old waif over an able-bodied or handsome young hand.”

Barnaby’s stooped old bones straightened, and he tookoff his cap, suddenly losing ten years. “Forgive me, m’lady.”

Pain and humiliation pricked and tore at her resolve, but still she fought for composure, “Veronica, then.” Her voice was harder now. Colder. “She goes, and I’ll stay.”

Veronica clutched her arm. “Lorelai, no!”

The Rook snorted and released her, gesturing to the expanse of the ship they still could not quite see through the fog. “You are both in my custody. You’re hardly in a position to make a bargain. This isn’t a trade deal, it’s me collecting what’s mine.”

“Veronica is not yours,” Lorelai argued.