side to side, pounding my back, and pushing on my abdomen between agonizing intervals of wet coughs and tremors.
Minutes lasted hours as every muscle and organ worked to expel the burning water. When my airway finally cleared, I lay bone-tired and grateful to be alive with a wooden deck canting lazily beneath me.
The warship.
Blinking ocean tears from my eyes, I stared up at the rank and file of uniforms on the upper deck, where I sprawled like a starfish.
Gold buttons, hats cocked on three sides, navy-issued dragoon pistols, boots of the finest leather, stoic expressions… The soldiers stood as one, symbolizing England’s power.
I couldn’t see Jade’s mighty masts off the starboard bow. Couldn’t hear her sheets hissing in the wind. Couldn’t detect the stench of blood or the gunpowder smoke of battle. The navy sailors were all here, seemingly awaiting orders without urgency. Which meant they weren’t engaged with my ship.
They’d let her go.
By the teeth of almighty God, my ruse had worked.
Jade escaped!
Quiet jubilation startled into my throat and tumbled past my lips, rolling into hacking fits of laughter.
Two men stood over me, bowing their cocked hats together. Lieutenants, given their buckled shoes and powdered periwigs.
“Why is she laughing?” one asked. “Does she not realize her crew threw her overboard to save their own hides?”
“She’s mad as a March hare,” the second lieutenant said.
“Oh, my foolish lads.” Grinning maniacally, I pushed to a sitting position and straightened the shirt to cover my nudity. “You have no idea what you just invited onto your ship.”
They glowered down their bladed noses with all the haughtiness of English nobility. I yawned, losing interest.
Meanwhile, every muscle in my body continued to shake, reminding me I almost drowned. Or maybe I did? Which one of these pretty boys brought me back to life? Why was no one addressing me or slapping me in irons?
Perhaps I was the first woman to ever step onto this first-rate ship of the line. But every seaman in the vicinity stared as if I were a mystical, fire-breathing sea dragon they’d mistakenly hauled from the sea.
They’d caught a lady pirate and seemed uncertain about what to do next.
“Don’t put a ball through my heart.” I thrust my hands in the air. “I’m just going to stand.”
No one moved as I wobbled ungracefully to my feet and made a quick scan of the horizon. The silhouette of distant sails sent a flutter of relief through my chest. Beyond the range of the warship’s guns, Jade was already vanishing beneath the horizon.
Keep them safe, Reynolds.
Centering my bare feet on the rolling deck, I took a quick inventory of my body. Dripping wet, Priest’s shirt hung to my knees. The jade stone still sat against my throat. And that was the extent of what I carried with me.
I staggered toward the uniformed men. Numerous fingers twitched against pistol belts, but not a gun was drawn.
My fate didn’t reside in the hands of low-ranked soldiers.
I searched the sea of blue frocks, looking for the one with jeweled buttons and elaborate embroidery of gold curlicues.
There. Lord Ashley Cutler, the commodore of HMS Blitz, stood just aft from a short raised deck, his hat tucked under an elbow, and a big hand curled around the top rail, confident, patient, cool as rain in the warm sea air under the bluest of blue skies.
Stunning bright blue like his eyes.
How unexpectedly…gorgeous.
The shocking intensity of his gaze pushed against me, rudely, blatantly glaring, so distractingly at odds with the sweetness of his face. Mercy God, he had such an innocent-looking face. All marble-smooth skin, full rosy lips, thick heavy lashes, with the wind ruffling the black as ink strands of his short hair.
That sweet look, however, didn’t disparage the unsettling aura of his presence. He regarded me as if he didn’t care a whit if I lived or died or sprouted wings and clucked like a chicken. Apathy formed an impenetrable shield around him, and perhaps that explained why his face gave the impression of youthsome innocence.
With ordinary people, exhaustion sagged the eyes. Anger carved between the brows. Triumph etched around the mouth. But Lord Cutler showed none of that. No emotions. No wrinkles or lines. No expressions. He bore the straightest, smoothest, most polished mien of indifference I’d ever seen.
I wanted a closer inspection.
Soldiers quivered and stiffened down the line, but no one stopped me as I ambled aft, arrowing toward their commodore.
His passionless blue eyes didn’t waver from mine. Unnerving.