Page 34 of An Imperfect Scoundrel
Laughing, Captain Shaw straightened and turned his attention to Mr. Evans. “Chain Dubois in my cabin.”
“Are you certain?” Mr. Evans asked, his black eyes dropping to Alana. “He seems to be a bit of trouble. We don’t want to bring any bad luck aboard.”
“Evans, are you questioning my mind?”
“No, Captain,” he replied instantly.
“Then do as I ordered.”
“Yes, Captain.” His malice-filled eyes flicked over Alana.
This was going to be a problem.
Mr. Evans grabbed his knife and slid the blade across the ropes binding Alana to the mast, nicking a section of her skin. She winced but held her tongue, glowering at him. With a grin, he yanked her to her feet, pulling her forward by her bound wrists. She stumbled, and he shoved her at another pirate with an exasperated growl.
“Wickes, this prisoner is assigned to the captain’s cabin.” Sending Alana a final sneer, he turned his attention to the three men still bound to the mast.
Mr. Wickes caught Alana, spun her around, and marched her toward the railing, his large hands clamped over her arms, pinning them to her sides. Pointing at a small board connecting the two ships, he pushed her against the railing.
“Over you go.”
“I cannot cross with my hands lashed,” Her eyes flicked down. Pieces of wood and sail bobbed in the water, highlighted by the flames overwhelming the ship’s stern.
Nor can I swim if I fall.
She doubted this man, or any other aboard this ship, would care if she drowned.
“For your sake, I hope you figure it out,” he replied, lifting her easily and setting her on the opposite side of the railing.
Alana twisted around, wrapping her hands around the worn wood. She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut, and trembled, her fingers refusing to release the railing.
“What’s the trouble?” Captain Shaw’s deep voice rumbled.
Her eyes flew open.
He did not look amused.
“I’m going to fall.” She swallowed, staring up at his unforgiving face.
“How do you know?” He tilted his head.
“My hands are bound.”
“That could potentially cause a problem.”
“You’re not going to do anything.”
“No.” He pointed his pistol at her. “Start walking.”
“But—”
“Dubois,” Captain Shaw snapped, chewing up her last name. “You have taken more time than any other captive I have encountered in my career. We have a short amount of time before this entire ship is ablaze. Perhaps I should shoot you and end my suffering. There are other men who wish to live through the night.”
Alana’s mouth snapped shut.
Pushing her shoulders back, she forced herself to release the railing, then she turned around and slid one hesitant foot forward on the board. She wobbled, fighting to retain her balance as the ships pitched. Scooting the next foot forward, she inched across the make-shift walkway.
The ships rolled, separating from each other and threatening to drop the plank into the ocean. With a shriek, she dropped to the board, balancing precariously as the ships continued to rock.
