“Very well.” He untied the boat tethers. “Get in. We’re not waiting for the crew. They can cram into the second jolly boat when they catch up.”
My hands trembled as I patted my hidden dimity pockets. My fingers found the hilt of my dagger, but my other pocket was empty.
Empty. Empty. Empty.
A gasp strangled in my chest. “My compass. It’s missing.”
“God’s blood, Bennett. How?”
He knew it had belonged to my father and that I treasured it above all else. But he didn’t know it was the only map in existence that led to Edric Sharp’s infamous treasure. I’d only ever told two people. Charles was dead, and that left…
“Priest.” My stomach sank. “In the tavern, he sneaked up on me from behind. He must have taken it then.”
“We’re leaving without it.” Reynolds grasped my waist and moved to lift me into the boat.
“No!” I pushed back and planted my feet onto the pier. “Release me at once!”
He jerked his hands back with a growl. “I overstepped.”
“Yes, you—”
Footsteps sounded behind me, the tread of a single pair of boots approaching from the shore.
Beads of sweat trickled between my breasts and gathered beneath the stays. I knew that lazy, arrogant gait. I feared it.
So did Reynolds.
“Get in the boat.” He removed the cutlass from the sash at his hips. “Please, Captain.”
Fastened on the shore, his eyes confirmed who was coming, and a war waged across his savage expression.
“I’m not leaving without my compass.” Pushing back my shoulders, I girded my spine and turned to face my biggest mistake.
A few paces away, the pirate leaned against a wooden post. His thumb hooked casually in the straps of leather that wound around his trim hips. His other hand hung at his side, dangling my compass by the chain.
Rancor battled longing. Scorn collided with sadness, and my outrage bowed beneath the helpless, banal attraction I’d always felt for him.
His brown breeches fit him like a glove, the threads molding around powerful thighs and the sizable bulge of his groin. His loose shirt tucked into multiple belts at his waist and laced up his chest to open at the neck. A strong neck, covered in scruff and sinew.
I swallowed thickly, my entire body pulsing with an unwanted ache as my gaze rose to his.
Eyes glinting like polished steel glared down at me. Moonlight cast his prominent features in stark relief—stern forehead, defined cheekbones, perfect nose, full lips—leaving the rest of his face in shadow. The severe straight line of his mouth amplified the intensity in his expression.
He was furious. Seething with two years’ worth of blistering, unresolved ire.
My heart died a thousand deaths before I found my voice. “Priest.”
“Bennett, my love.” He spilled the endearment into the air, each syllable a vicious growl of torment. “How I’ve missed my beautiful, infuriating wife.”
Three years ago, a confident, sexually charged, uncommonly handsome pirate strolled onto my ship. Little did I know, his sinful gray eyes and traitorous mouth would twist my entire world wrong-side-out.
Priest had joined my crew with Reynolds, who was looking for work. But Priest had a different agenda.
He was on the prowl for his next conquest.
Within a fortnight, I found myself pinned beneath his thrusts in my cabin, screaming, writhing, delirious in the throes of the most profound, erotic, and emotionally penetrating coupling of my life.
The raw, uninhibited magic I’d felt with him hadn’t been one-sided. Entangled in sweaty limbs, stripped to the skin, and deeper still—deep enough to expose our hearts—we were buried so far inside each other there would be no unraveling.
What began as an unstoppable explosion of passion forged into something pivotal, essential, and more.
We’d become addicted to each other. Insatiable. Inseparable. We couldn’t keep our clothes on, our hands to ourselves, or our hearts closed off. It had happened so suddenly it knocked us off our feet and fundamentally changed us.
How quickly I’d trusted him with my secrets and my future. Even more shocking was the intoxicating intensity in which the hedonistic king of libertines had returned my love. It was widely known that his cock had been under more skirts than a dressmaker’s needle.
But not once did I try to trap him or tie him down with marriage. He was the one who demanded commitment and monogamy while swearing off his profligate lifestyle.
I just want you, he’d said. Only you.
I’d believed him, joyously and blindly.
A year after we met, we’d made it official and exchanged matrimonial vows aboard Jade.
Since my love for him was my greatest liability, we kept our marriage hidden. Outside of Reynolds and a few other loyal members of my crew, no one knew.
In Charleston, I was Benedicta Leighton, granddaughter of the ninth Earl Leighton.
Everywhere else, I was Bennett Sharp, daughter of the notorious Pirate Edric Sharp.
The only living person who knew Benedicta and Bennett were one and the same was my husband.
He knew everything about me.
Every.
Vulnerable.
Weakness.
Exposing our relationship would’ve made both of us susceptible. Then and now. Didn’t matter that I no longer looked at Priest through the lens of blind love. If he were captured by an enemy and tortured as a means to control me, I would surrender to any demand.
Pathetic, wasn’t it? He’d hurt me in the worst way possible, and I would still exchange my life for his.
Even more pathetic, I’d gone as far as amending the Articles drawn up by my crew on board Jade to include: If any man shall harm Priest Farrell, whether in aggression or defense, that man shall be marroon’d or shot.
I stood by that code today. If he died, it wouldn’t be on my watch. I would protect him at all costs.
There was a time when I was certain he would die for me, too. But that was before.
Before he betrayed me.
“Have you broken our agreement?” A hot prick of resentment smarted at the base of my throat. “How many know we’re married?”
“I told no one. But I would’ve announced it to the world if it had aided my search for you.” He set the compass into a lazy spin on the chain, taunting me with it. “Turns out, I only had to wait for Charles Vane to hang.”
My chest tightened. “Go to hell.”
“Been there since the day you left me in Nassau.” His expression contorted with fury as he stretched out his arms. “I have nothing left, my love. You must know I’ve exhausted every resource at my disposal, coin in my purse, and tarnal breath in my body pursuing you.”
Irrational guilt tried to surface, but I shoved it down. “What about the breaths you dribbled upon the bosoms of tavern wenches? Were those for me, too?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a despicable liar. The biggest scoundrel of them all.”
“You’re angry.” His silver eyes flared in the moonlight. “You’re not alone in that.”
Reynolds remained quiet and vigilant at my side. He would guard me with his life, but he couldn’t protect me from Priest. The damage my husband inflicted on me was never delivered with steel or gunpowder.