Page 14 of Ruthless, But for Her

He was thinking, for reasons he did not examine, about his mother.

“I'm thinking,” Ashton said, “about Roland Heron.”

Ryker said nothing. The oars kept their steady rhythm. Somewhere at the bow, the Irishman was coiling a line, moving the way a man moves when years on deck have made it instinct. Good. He needed steady hands on this crew.

He needed steady hands for what came next.

His brother knew when a decision had settled over Ashton. He'd seen it enough times, and he didn't ask again.

CHAPTER 8

Cassia

She would wait for the first opportunity to escape.

Sheltered her whole life, raised in the small village of Grantchester with occasional outings to the market, but otherwise closeted in the manor house, Cassia had, in books, traveled the world three times over. She knew things her circumstances would never allow her to learn any other way. But she knew this much: a prisoner who moved too soon was a prisoner who failed.

The door swung open.

He stood before her, a man Cassia had little idea how to reconcile. Was he a ruthless murderer, as the tales of him and his crew would suggest? Or one whose promise of leaving her unharmed had thus far come to pass?

“The sea is steady, if you'd prefer coming on deck.”

She would prefer it. Before the interception, Cassia had enjoyed the salt air and the steady, soothing roll of the sea beneath her feet. She could almost forget the journey was to return her to her husband.

But she didn't dare move. There were even fiercer-looking men outside the cabin, ones she had no desire to remind of her presence. She would take her chances with this one.

“I'd rather remain here,” she lied.

Closing the door, Ashton took the same seat he'd occupied earlier. He moved as men do when they've spent years aboard a ship, easy and unhurried, taking up no more space than he needed.

“We had no knowledge of you or your maid being aboard,” he said. “Your escort's transfer was an incidental occurrence.”

He spoke well for a sailor.

“Escort's transfer. A pretty way to describe my kidnapping, sir.”

She refused to give in to the fear bubbling within her and kept her chin raised.

“You are a temporary guest. If you will it, when we make port, your husband will be summoned. You will be returned safely to him.”

“I would prefer...” She stopped. There was nothing in her that wished to be reunited with Roland.

“I spoke with your maid.”

Cassia went very still.

“I know your husband has not been gentle with you.”

He spoke with Nell? How was that possible? She'd assumed Nell had been escorted home already, that she was safe and away, that Cassia was entirely alone in this.

He was well-spoken and intuitive, having sensed that not all was well in her marriage. It was not what she would have expected from one of the Black Sails' crew.

“Were you not in danger, crossing back to that ship to speak with her?”

He said nothing.

Cassia had never felt comfortable in silence. It was a flaw her father had pointed out more than once, and she felt it keenly now, the urge to fill the quiet with something, anything, just to keep from having to sit inside it.