Page 58 of Stilettos & Secrets on the 7 Seas

Oh crap!

Ace trotted out, kicking up water along the way.

Once on board the boat, Ace leaned close and lowered his voice. “Doll, you do know I can’t cook?”

“Shhh. I know.”

“And did you hear ’em say heneededa cook?” Ace shifted uncomfortably. “That means the blond god is not aboard.”

“We’re going to find Marco. If he’s not on the ship, we’ll get off.”

“How?” Ace gaped at the massive ship our small rowboat headed toward and back at the long distance to the beach. “You going to swim?”

One of the men gave us an uneasy glare as if I had the black plague sewed onto my petticoats.

“I’ll think of something.”

“These men don’t play games. I hope you know what you’re doing.” Ace rotated his wrist toward the giant. “Just look at the captain—he’s menacing. Gorgeous but menacing.”

“Do you think he’s the captain?” I studied the giant. He stood at the helm of the rowboat, one knee on the bow, very George Washington crossing the Delaware-like. His dark hair caught in the wind, exposing a solid jaw and tanned skin.

“Of course.” A gust of wind rocked the boat as it angled toward the ship, and Ace grabbed his hat before it blew away. “He’s the most captain-looking one here. And he’s dressed better than the others. That jacket screams money. He probably stole it off a royal admiral.”

“The boatswain said the captain was sick.” I cocked my head and gave the captain a once-over. “He doesn’t seem sick.”

“It’s probably syphilis.” Ace pursed his lips. “Most of the pirates had it during this time.”

I looked at his crotch snug in tight breeches that hugged the muscular curve of his thigh. My eyes followed a well-defined torso through sinewy forearms and thick biceps that I recalled lifted me like I was cotton. As I reached his face, I realized he’d caught me staring. I looked away, but not before I saw the small smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“For heaven’s sake, love, don’t stare at the man’s privates. You’ll see them up close and personal for the healing.” Ace air quoted healing with his fingers. “Besides, I think he’s into you. I saw him check out your Nanny McPhee gown.”

“Would you get a grip?” I elbowed Ace in the ribs. “I have no intention of having a fling with a pirate. I’m engaged to Caiyan.”

“Fake engaged.”

The rowboat came to a stop at the gunnel. I knew this from memorizing an illustrated page on parts of a pirate ship.

The men grabbed ropes hanging from the top rail of the ship and began scaling up the side.

“Oi.” The pirate next to me pointed to a rope ladder.

I leaned back to see the long climb ahead of me. Before my jump, Gertie quizzed me on the different types of ships used in the 1700s. This ship was a brigantine. It wasn’t the biggest ship in the harbor. It wasn’t a Captain Hook ship.

Another resounding “Oi.”

I inched my way up the ladder with Ace climbing behind me, mumble-cussing about transporters staying on base. Ace’s quibbling faded away as I came to the top of the rope ladder. I paused. The top rung was missing.

“Oh, jeez.” The reach to pull myself over the rail required me to perform a fucking pull-up. I hated pull-ups. I had spaghetti arms. My forced time in the gym on Jake’s orders gave me tone, but I had no strength to pull my body up for even one pull-up. I tried and faltered.

Ace climbed up next to me. His head, even with my ass. “What’s the problem, love?”

“It’s missing a rung. I can’t boost myself over the damn railing.”

“I’ll give you a little boost on three.”

“OK, one, two…”

“Alley-oop.” Ace shoved my butt from below.

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