So here he was, at the civilian wharves, south of the Royal Dockyard. After changing from his uniform, he’d found some familiar faces in one of the taverns preferred by Navy lads and a few questions had got him the name of Billy’s vessel. The Swallow, a merchant barque that ran passengers and Albionic goods like lace and wool to Arawaké and returned with spices, tobacco, and other Arawakéan specialities.

He’d only planned to visit Billy to see if there was anything he needed, any way he could help. He hadn’t expected to hear he was still sailing, never mind that he ran a route all the way to Arawaké. Perhaps he’d have space for two more passengers …

When he spotted the ship, he froze mid-step. What was he doing? He hadn’t seen Billy since they’d landed in Albion after that fateful tour, and now he was darkening his door to ask a favour.

Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed more coffee. And willow bark—that helped with headaches.

He had to do this. Running away wasn’t an option. This might be the only way he could get Vee out of Portsmouth. If he could get her to Arawaké, she’d be out of the Navy’s grasp, just another pirate on the seas. And this time she wouldn’t have him hunting her.

Plus, he would pay for their passage. It didn’t have to be a favour. Billy wouldn’t be complicit—plausible deniability.

“Knigh?”

His spine straightened. He knew that voice. Gulping, he rubbed his eyelids before opening them.

With a broad grin, a tanned man hurried over the Swallow’s gangway, dark eyes wide and shining. “It is you.”

He’d grown a beard over the past two years, but there was no mistaking that smile, the round eyes—even his dimples were still visible through the neat facial hair.

Billy Hopper.

The Honeymoon

Knigh’s stomach turned, and it took all his willpower not to run or vomit. Or both.

“Captain Knighton Villiers,” Billy said, then snapped in a sharp salute. Grinning, he closed in and grabbed Knigh’s shoulder, giving him a good, long look. “I heard you’d made Captain. And the youngest ever, too. Congratulations, my friend.” He clapped Knigh’s back. “Always knew you would.”

My friend. Knigh blinked.

Lords, he was just staring at the poor man, wasn’t he?

He cleared his throat. “Thank—thank you.” His gaze skittered to the left cuff of Billy’s coat where a hand should’ve been. Where it would have been, if not for him. He swallowed back bile. “How—how are you? This looks like a fine vessel.”

If anything, Billy’s smile grew broader, and he gestured at the Swallow. “She is, she is! And, as for me, I’ve never been better.”