Page 39 of An Imperfect Scoundrel
“Murder.”
“It’s expected of me.” Yanking the bottle from Mr. Dubois, Cedric moved the container out of reach and set the glass firmly on the desk.
“You’re expected to be a pirate?”
“I’m expected to kill people who disobey me.” He slammed his hand down beside the bottle, causing Mr. Dubois to jump.
Pursing his lips, Mr. Dubois retrieved the needle and spool from the box. After several attempts, he threaded the needle and tied a knot at the end of the string. Lifting his eyes to Cedric, he held up the needle.
“This will hurt.”
“I’m aware.” He lifted the bottle, saluted Mr. Dubois, then drained the contents.
Mr. Dubois pinched the sides of the wound together, pushing the skin into a puckered line. Exhaling slowly, he stabbed the needle through Cedric’s arm and glanced up.
Cedric didn’t flinch.
Drawing the string through, Mr. Dubois repeated the slow process—stab, glance at Cedric, draw the string through—until the wound closed. Tying off the string, he returned the needle and spool of unused thread to the box, then closed the lid.
“I have finished, however…”
“What?” Cedric’s head whipped toward Mr. Dubois, his gaze dropping to the wound, inspecting the stitching. “I see no problem with your surgery. Perhaps you can replace Mr. Hayward in those duties. He lacks the ability to keep a straight line.”
Mr. Dubois forced a smile. “I have no intention of remaining in your employ if you attack another ship.”
Leaning over, Cedric’s hand wrapped around Mr. Dubois’ throat. “And what, pray tell, do you intend to do?”
“I will jump in the water.” Mr. Dubois stared back, refusing to blink.
Cedric laughed. The mirthless sound reverberated off the cabin walls.
“You cannot swim.”
“True, but I can float long enough to be rescued by the lifeboat.”
His hand tightening, he pulled Mr. Dubois closer. “What makes you think there will be a lifeboat this time?”
“You did release the boat!” Mr. Dubois’ jaw dropped.
“I have no idea to what you are referring.” He threw Mr. Dubois away and rose. The chair scraped across the floor, slamming into the wall. Snatching up his shirt, he yanked the cloth over his head.
Mr. Dubois was tied to the mast. He couldn’t have witnessed Cedric’s release of the lifeboat.
“If you rip open the stitches, I will have to sew your arm again.” Mr. Dubois’ quiet voice barely carried across the cabin.
“Where did you see a lifeboat?” Cedric spun.
“Off the stern of the ship.” Mr. Dubois gestured at the window and held out the box. “You saved those women’s lives.”
“I did not.” Ripping the box from Mr. Dubois’ hand as he turned, Cedric stalked to the armoire and shoved the sewing kit inside the battered piece of furniture.
“Why do you deny your good deed?” Mr. Dubois climbed from the floor and stepped toward him.
“Because I’m not a goodman.” Cedric slammed the armoire doors close. “You would do well to remember that.”
A knock echoed in the chamber.
“Enter.” Cedric’s gaze flicked to the door. Mr. Hayward lumbered into the room and set a tray on the opposite corner of the desk from the small trunk. “Mr. Hayward, your skills are lacking.”
