top, fore and aft. In the bed, on the chairs, over the rail, against the walls, on the floor—if the surface was strong enough to support us, we broke it in.
We were so caught up in each other, we lost time, lost our bearings, lost our sense of the end. In the back of my mind, I knew it was coming. New Providence couldn’t have been more than a day’s journey away.
I’d been on this ship for twelve days. Long enough for Priest to seize a fast sloop, take over its command, and catch up to HMS Blitz.
I knew in my bones that he was close. I also knew it was time to press Ashley about what needed to happen next. Whatever that was. I didn’t have a plan, and that terrified me.
We’d begrudgingly dressed that morning, knowing a third day secluded away in his private quarters would raise suspicion.
Sitting on his lap, I finished a quiet breakfast with him, my belly filled with clam fritters and sour milk biscuits with blackberry preserves. I set down my napkin and pulled in a bracing breath.
“Ashley…” I shifted on his hard thighs and met his stunning eyes. “We need to…”
His lips twitched, his gaze dipping. “You have…some…” He slid a finger along the corner of my mouth. “Preserves.” The finger went into his mouth, and he licked it clean, casting me an innocent grin. “What?”
I was going to say something, something important, but my brain broke.
“Sugary sweet.” He was still staring at my lips. “Addictive.”
Then he put his grin there and kissed me senseless. I twined my fingers in his hair and yielded beneath his irresistible mouth. How could I do otherwise? I’d been collecting his smiles for two days. Smiles he gave to me and no one else. Each one made me feel like anything was possible.
Until an urgent knock pounded on the door.
“Lord Cutler?” Sergeant Smithley called from the other side. “Lieutenant Wallers is here with urgent news.”
My pulse exploded. Was it news of an approaching sloop? Had Priest been spotted?
Ashley stood abruptly, holding onto my waist until I found my feet. He gave my gown a quick inspection, ran a hand through his hair, and turned toward the door.
Shoulders squared, hands folded at his back, feet braced apart, expression blank—the transformation of his demeanor completely rebuilt him from top to bottom in less than a second. I’d forgotten what this fine-mannered commodore looked like. And felt like. His severe presence choked the air.
“Enter, Lieutenant.” His aristocratic voice made me shudder.
An older man in a white periwig stepped in and clapped a hand to his wrinkled brow. “Good morning, my lord.”
“Good morning, Lieutenant. What news do you bring?”
“A ship approaches off the larboard bow.”
I drew in a quick, silent breath and gripped the top rail of the chair beside me.
“One of ours.” Wallers lowered his hand. “A command flag flies at the fore-topgallant masthead.”
“Which command flag?”
“Admiral of the White Squadron, my lord.”
“Sir John Dycker.” Ashley’s fingers twitched at his side.
“Who?” I asked quietly.
He pretended not to hear me as he collected his blue frock and shrugged it on. “Prepare to receive him and his lieutenants.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Wallers stepped out, closing the door behind him.
“Who is John Dycker?” I gripped Ashley’s arm, startled by the tension in his muscles.
“Admiral of HMS Ludwig. My superior.” He pulled away and grabbed his hat, his tone calm, void of emotion. “Play-time is over.”
He headed toward the exit.
“Ashley.” My heart ached as I waited for him to turn. When our eyes connected, I stood taller, my voice fierce. “Change your course and set me free. This is our happiness. Yours and mine. Take it.”
“I cannot.” He opened the door and swept out in a blear of royal blue. “Sergeant, escort Miss Sharp topside if you please.”
He vanished around the corner, without a backward glance at my fractured expression.
There were three things certain in life—disappointment, death, and the pompous presentation of English admiralty.
Sir John Dycker strutted his important self across the upper deck of HMS Blitz, paying no attention to the rolling drums, strident pipes, and booming cannons that lit up the overcast sky in his honor.
His superior rank allowed him to walk among these men as if he were the king himself. Adorned in rich silks, brocades, and embroideries of gold and blue, he reeked of wealth and status.
Lines of soldiers stood in perfect formation around me, regarding the admiral with unconcealed awe and great fear.
As the sailors had escorted me topside, I’d heard their