“Captain FitzRoy,” he said in a voice that carried, “I’ve come to offer a letter of marque signed by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth IV.”

Oh, that was brilliant. Even better than a pirate hunter calling for parley. She’d been trying for three years to persuade FitzRoy to turn privateer, and for three years he’d refused. This would be no different.

She snorted. “Good luck with that.”

“What an interesting proposal, Captain Blackwood,” FitzRoy said. “I assume you’ll have your men stand down if I ask mine to do the same, then we can go and discuss this in my cabin.”

Discuss this? “FitzRoy”—she whirled on her heel—“what the devil do—”

“I assume you meant to say Captain.” He gave her a flat look, mouth a straight line.

Urgh, he wanted to make an impression in front of these Navy men, in front of Captain Blackwood. Nostrils flaring, she forced a smile in place. “Apologies, Captain.”

“Quite forgiven, Vice.” He spread his hands in a magnanimous gesture. “I imagine the heat of battle made you forget yourself.”

She gritted her teeth, cheeks tense—her smile probably looked more like a grimace.

“Now, Captain Blackwood,” FitzRoy stepped to one side and gestured for the pirate hunter to join him, “let us retire.”

“But—Captain”—she fell in beside Blackwood, trying to outpace him but his long legs let him keep up without effort.

“Yes, Miss Vice?” He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Not you,” she hissed. “Captain FitzRoy, with all respect”—inwardly she cringed, but he couldn’t say she wasn’t playing along with his wishes, however stupid they were—“I don’t like this. This man’s Navy through and through and, even worse, he’s a pirate hunter. What if this is just a ploy to get you alone?”

FitzRoy scoffed and shook his head. “Ah, my dear, what an imagination you have.”

She ground her teeth. If he called her my dear one more time …

One corner of FitzRoy’s mouth rose in an odd smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “Despite the insult you do him, I’m sure Captain Blackwood will be happy to surrender his weapons to you. As a gesture of goodwill, I’ll do the same.” He unbuckled his sword belt and bandolier and passed both to the nearest marine.

The rest of The Morrigan’s crew and the Venatrix’s men sheathed their weapons.

“Only too glad to oblige,” Blackwood said, flashing her a showy smile that seemed so out of place on him it irritated her almost as much as Fitz calling her my dear. “Miss Vice.”

His grey eyes stayed on her while he flicked his belt buckle open.

Something about the way he did that, maybe the slowness, maybe the eye contact, made her face heat. It was far too much like a lover beginning to undress.