His fingers opened, and the smashed wedge of an orange rolled off the mattress and into the shadowed corner behind the bed.
The plate of oranges on the table, Ashley’s hands between my legs… My senses heightened with comprehension. Priest had given Ashley the fruit while opening his breeches behind me, and somehow Ashley had known what to do with it.
Priest grinned, an impish curve of sensual lips. “I didn’t realize you fancied me that way, Madwulf.”
“If I dinna see your cock in the next two seconds, there won’t be any of it left to hold onto.”
I held my breath as Priest dropped the smile and exposed himself beneath the barrel of an unloaded gun.
“Syphilis.” The ogre made the sign of the cross with three fingers and backed away.
Not syphilis. The same red blisters that I’d inflicted on Priest’s hands a month ago now covered his groin. Christ, it looked excruciating. No wonder he hadn’t gotten an erection. He must have been in horrible agony, burning and inconsolably itchy.
Ashley’s features gave no reaction. Except for the glint in his eyes. He definitely knew about Priest’s affliction from oranges.
“What have you done?” Madwulf gripped his brow and retreated, too. “You’re infected. You… You contaminated her!”
Everyone knew about the infinite numbers of syphilis patients clogging hospitals and infirmaries throughout the West Indies. Without a cure, the plague tortured its victims with pestilential rashes and sores, facial disfigurement, blindness, madness, and hair loss.
Fear of baldness swept the high seas, and that was precisely the concern among every sea robber here.
Faces glistened with nervous sweat. Eyes widened. Hands flew to beards and long braids of cherished hair. No pirate wanted to be bald. It was a fate worse than losing a limb.
Priest fastened his breeches, his expression strained with pain. That part wasn’t fake. He’d hurt himself to protect me. None of Madwulf’s men would touch me now.
Every pirate in the room was standing, looking at the exit as if ready to bolt.
“Captain.” An older man burst into the cottage, oblivious to what was unfolding inside. “Cargo’s loaded. She’s ready to weigh anchor, and we got a perfect wind to let her sheets fly and push us straight past the island.”
Madwulf’s glare swung coldly to Priest as he spoke to his crew. “Tell everyone to return to the ship and prepare to weigh. Four of you will stay with me until I finish this.”
No one argued. Most of them looked relieved to not have to handle the diseased prisoners.
As the room scattered, my muscles and joints locked up, bracing for battle. Five of them against the three of us? We could overpower them, especially with the element of surprise. If we killed them quietly, without gunfire, we had a real chance of escape.
“Do you ken what she did the day I met her? When I grabbed her filthy cunt?” Madwulf yanked the neck of his shirt to the side, revealing the fading pinkish imprint of my teeth marks. “I was looking forward to collecting my retribution.” He spat a wet clump of phlegm on the floorboards at Priest’s feet. “You tricked me, libertine.”
Priest stepped over the spittle and bent to collect his weapons. “Perhaps you should learn how to negotiate.”
Ashley had said those exact words to me once.
Careful with the knife, I gripped Ashley’s hands between us and soaked in the calmness on his face. Whatever Priest was up to, Ashley showed no signs of concern.
Warmth filled my chest as I pressed my gagged mouth against his neck in a gesture of oneness. We would live together or die together. The three of us. Their happiness would be the most important thing I ever fought for.
“We had an agreement.” Securing his daggers to his baldric and belts, Priest met Madwulf’s stare. “Fuck her or leave. Either way, the prisoners stay with me. I’m nowhere near finished with them.”
“Cutler is mine. He was never part of the agreement.” Madwulf turned and strolled toward the door, addressing his men. “Kill the pirate hunter.”
“Without a vote, Captain?” the ogre asked.
“Vote if you want. I’m leaving this bloody island.”
My fingers twitched to curl around that bastard’s neck until he soiled his breeches with the stink of fear. I tracked his gait through the cottage, hoping he would stick around long enough to fight me.
The ogre turned toward us and raised the flintlock. “Better move, Miss, or you’ll be eating powder, too.”
He didn’t wait. His fat finger squeezed the trigger. The flint struck the hammer, and nothing sparked. Just as