Page 26 of An Imperfect Scoundrel
“Who are you?”
“My cabin boy,” Captain Shaw said, his harsh tone causing Mr. Evans to cringe. “And he has issued you a command.”
“Yes, Captain.” Mr. Evans nodded. Jerking the trunk from the floor, he turned and stiffly walked toward the bow of the ship.
Alana glanced back at Captain Shaw. “Your cabin boy?”
“Boy. Man. You’re youthful enough to carry either moniker.” He drew a finger down her cheek. “You must be the youngest of your family.”
“I am.”
His hand slid to her arm, and he squeezed the muscle, clucking. “A few weeks at sea will add some strength to you.”
“Weeks? I thought…”
“What did you think?” He tilted his head.
He was laughing at her.
“I thought you’d put me ashore at the next port.”
“Why would I do that?”
She faltered, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. “Because I can’t swim.”
“And I haven’t thrown you into the ocean.” He shoved her forward. “But I never promised to return you to land.”
“You expect me to be your cabin boy forever?” she said, catching sight of her image in a brass railing. She gasped, shocked by the deep purple discoloration of her cheek.
How hard had he struck her?
“Forever seems quite a long time, Mr. Dubois. I have no intention of continuing my career into forever.”
“Do I have another option?” She stopped walking and spun around.
The pistol crashed into her breastbone, and she grimaced, expelling a low moan.
“Instead of working for me?”
“Yes.”
His mouth crooked into a half-smile. “Allow me to show you the other choice.”
Wrapping his fingers around her upper arm, he pinched the skin and dragged her across the deck, stepping over broken bits of wood—pieces of the mast. Pushing her toward a group of men, he flung her at Mr. Evans.
“Mr. Dubois has decided he’d rather not join our crew.”
An evil grin slid across Mr. Evans’ face. “That is a pity.”
“Wait!” Alana twisted around, but Captain Shaw had vanished.
After winding a thick rope around Alana’s wrists, Mr. Evans shoved her down on her butt, lifted her arms above her head, and tied her hands to the main mast. Kicking her foot, he stepped over her legs and grabbed another man, shoving him toward the mast. The man fell beside Alana, blood dripping from his nose.
“Mr. Parker?” she asked, unable to hide her shock.
He waited until Mr. Evans lashed his hands to the mast and walked away before leaning closer. “I had hoped you and my wife managed to hide yourselves. Does she look as frightful as you?”
“I don’t know. They separated us.” Alana’s gaze followed Mr. Evans as he lashed another man on the opposite side of Mr. Parker.
