“They wouldn’t have found out.” She huffed and turned her back on him, pacing as far away as she could in the cramped cabin. Scowling, she yanked pins from her hair, wincing and rubbing her scalp. She did that most nights—the weight of her hair coiled and pinned in place was yet another small torture he’d played a part in inflicting upon her.

She shot him a sharp glance and dropped the hair pins on the dressing table. “And there is no we. I could’ve explained it away just fine.” She began to undress, shrugging off the top layer of her gown. “Thanks ever so much for your concern.”

He sighed and untied his cravat. There was a we whether she liked it or not. It might have been necessity, but it was still there. If they were going to make it back to Arawaké safely, they needed the Pevenseys as well as Billy and his crew to believe that they were indeed husband and wife, rather than fugitives—she a pirate and he a Navy deserter.

Deserter.

He held still as his stomach twisted again. Deserters were cowards. They fled their duty to Queen, country, and comrades. Yes, he’d walked away from his post, but he’d done it out of a sense of duty to right the wrong he’d done Vee.

No matter how much he turned the thoughts around in his head, the two things didn’t fit. Deserters were cowards.

He shook his head, running his hands over his face. However hard it was to reconcile, the outcome was the same—he was a deserter and the punishment for that was death.

At least he and Vee had that in common.

All stiff, jerky movements, she finished undressing and threw her clothes into the chest at the end of the bed, leaving just a chemise skimming her body.

He winced, first at the careless way she stowed her clothing, then at the lack of curves for that chemise to glide over. The hips he’d held on to, the breasts he’d worshipped, both diminished thanks to the torture of an iron cage.

His fault.

Breaths heaving, he turned away and hung up his jacket. His chest was hollow, his heartbeat echoing against his ribs.

“The Viscountess Villiers,” she muttered with a snort. “Well, at least Papa would be happy to hear that, albeit three years too late.”

He scrubbed his face again. Such a tangled web. Pretending to be married to his former fiancée … Lying about her name—Verity was the first name he’d come up with, easy to explain away if he slipped and called her Vee.

Plus the fact they’d ended up on Billy’s ship, of all places. Hopelessly tangled.