aren’t as effective against Mother Nature as they are against wood and sails.” A memory snaked down her spine. When corsairs had captured the Merry Sea ten years ago and taken her captive, she’d thought Captain Warre would prove her savior. But Captain Warre hadn’t cared about saving anyone. His cannons had sunk the Merry Sea and one of the Corsair xebecs, while the other xebec slipped away with Katherine bound and gagged in its hold. There was no doubt he would have sunk it, too, if he’d been able. “Pity it wasn’t the good captain himself who washed up against our hull,” she added. “I would have relished the opportunity to finally meet him.”
“Ha!” Phil leaned forward. “To slit his throat, more likely, and then where would you be upon our return? Dangling from the end of a rope, that’s where.”
Upon their return, she would already be dangling—at the end of Nicholas Warre’s bill of pains and penalties. The Lords might well strip Dunscore from her before she could set foot inside those ancient walls again. Cousin Holliswell would smugly accept the title and the estate, and she would have once again failed Anne.
That would not happen. Not if Katherine had any say in the matter.
“Poor sod’s been through a hell of an ordeal,” William said, standing. “Suppose I’ll go talk with him. Probably beginning to wonder if he’s the only man on board.”
“Assure him we shall see to it that he suffers no more,” Phil said.
William laughed. “Still waiting for you to ease my suffering, Philomena.”
“The moment my desperation becomes that unbearable, I shall certainly let you know.” There was nothing between them, but William found no end of amusement at suggesting there should be.
“I won’t have you turning sympathetic with the prisoner,” Katherine called after him.
“Course not.” He grinned from the doorway. “I mean only to tighten the shackles—hold down the circulation and all that. Might solve the problem for next time.”
Next time. Good God. “My bed, a haven for deviants,” she muttered, and called after William, “See that you do!”
“Shackles aren’t all that deviant,” Phil commented after he left. “If you don’t want him chained to your bed, I’ll happily allow you to chain him to mine. Even in this sorry state, that man has more virility in his little finger than most men have in their—”
“Enough! As soon as we’re through the strait, he won’t be chained to anyone’s bed.”
Just then, India stormed into the cabin. “Millicent says she hopes we’re captured by Barbary pirates in the strait!”
“Millicent is a fool,” Phil snapped. “Does she think they would return her to Malta?”
“She’s just angry.” India plopped down at the table. The dark waistcoat she favored fell away from her hips, revealing the gleaming pistol that was her prized possession.
“She’ll thank Katherine one day,” Phil said.
Katherine doubted that—not after she’d resorted to trickery to force Millicent to return to Britain with them. Even had Millie succeeded in her plan to gain admission to Malta’s School of Anatomy and Surgery by applying as a young man, eventually the truth would have been discovered. She would have been expelled from the school and left to fend for herself on Malta, and Katherine refused to be responsible for that.
“We shall sail on tonight’s tide,” Katherine said.
A smile spread across India’s face. “Just imagine how infamous we shall be in London.”
“Just imagine how ruined you’ll be,” Katherine said. The thought of returning to Britain turned the screws on every nerve. Society would accept neither her nor Anne. All the reasons why she had shunned her homeland after escaping Algiers still existed—all but one.
When you are countess of Dunscore, Katie...
She slammed the door on Papa’s old, familiar words. Dunscore meant nothing to her now except a means to Anne’s security.
India gave a haughty shake of her head, managing to look regal even in her ridiculous tricorne. “I am the daughter of an earl, and still a virgin, and my chaperone has been ever with me,” she said. “I am not ruined—just well traveled.” Katherine looked at Phil. Life aboard the Possession would not be regarded merely as travel.
“How is the castaway?” India asked.
“Not still a virgin, I daresay,” Phil answered slyly.
“Blech!” India made a face and covered her ears. “Auntie Phil, you’re disgusting. I’ll wager he’s fifty if he’s a day!”
“Certainly not.” Phil’s blue eyes twinkled like the sea on a clear day. “Do you think so, Katherine? Fifty?”
“I shall leave such judgments to your expertise.” Thirty-five or forty, more like. And judging from the smile playing at Phil’s lips, bound to be a distraction. Of all the dangers she had considered, that one was easily addressed. As soon as Mr. Barclay recovered, she would either lock him in the brig or put him with the crew under the boatswain’s supervision.
Either way, Mr. Barclay and his virility would be out of sight and out of mind.
“BOY-O, JAMES.” The sound of the door and a familiar voice jolted James out of near sleep. “Sounds like you could use another dunking—perhaps in the waters of the Arctic. Got the ladies all in a tither.”
A blond, blue-eyed corsair stood grinning at him. James took in the turban, gold earrings and billowing trousers. “Good God. Jaxbury?” A slightly apprehensive relief eased through his weak body. “Haven’t seen you since...” His mind raced to remember. “Good God. That time in Marseille.” And before that, not since their youth.
“Ah, Marseille. Fine wine, finer women.” Jaxbury dragged a small chair closer to the bed and straddled it backward. “Devilish good fun we had. Must have had—I barely remember it.”
“Had no idea you’d taken up—” James dragged in a breath “—with Corsair Kate.”
“Don’t let her hear you call her that,” Jaxbury laughed. “Things won’t go easy. Of course, you haven’t heard. Those of us of the masculine persuasion aboard the Possession aren’t the stuff of wild stories. Nothing interesting about us at all.”
James tried to raise his hand but couldn’t fight the iron. “I don’t suppose you’ve come to unlock these shackles.”
Jaxbury shook his head. “Never hear the end of that one. Especially not after the show you put on for the ladies.”
Bloody hell.
“Nothing to worry about,” Jaxbury said. “Weakened state, some things hard to control—don’t have to explain it to me, old boy. I’ll sound you a caution, though—Phil’s been two years without an affaire d’amour, and she’s getting damned restless.”
