Oh, Lords and Ladies. Something like that. That was a ship of beauty. A perfect vessel for piracy.

A perfect vessel for her.

How had she even thought of captaining that slaver brig when something like the Venatrix existed?

Skin buzzing with excitement, she tucked the spyglass away and hurried down the shrouds. She jumped the last few feet to the deck and compressed into a low landing.

Perry pulled up short as Vice blocked her path. She raised one eyebrow, lips pursed to one side—her withering look, as Vice liked to call it. “What’s got you so excited?”

“Did you see that—that”—what to call it?—“I suppose it’s a miniature frigate? The Venatrix.” She grabbed Perry’s shoulder and pulled her to the rail, pointing to her intended. “Isn’t he gorgeous? I think it’s love.”

Perry snorted and pulled the spyglass from her. “You, talking of love? Never thought I’d see the day.” She scanned the ship, a sound of approval in her throat. “He cuts a mighty fine line, I’ll give you that. You could fall in love with a worse fellow.”

Vice fished in her pocket for a cashew nut and tossed one in her mouth, munching as she watched the moored ship.

There had to be a way they could take the Venatrix. FitzRoy could be persuaded, surely. He’d been prickly recently—something had soured his mood, maybe the continued elusiveness of Drake’s treasure, maybe something else. Maybe it was the fact he wasn’t laying anyone currently, since their liaison had ended half a year ago.

Maybe she could use her feminine wiles to persuade him—he had to be susceptible after such a long drought.

“What’re you grinning at?” Perry nudged her in the belly with the spyglass, releasing it into her grasp.

“If we take that ship”—another nut in her hand, she gestured to the Venatrix—“the Captain will have to give it to me.” The slaver wasn’t suitable for piracy, but the Venatrix? “It’s perfect—the start of FitzRoy’s own fleet.” She flashed a grin and popped the cashew in her mouth.

“Hmm.” The skin around Perry’s eyes crinkled, and she looked away to the Venatrix again. “You want to captain it? You think you’re ready?”

Chewing, Vice frowned and searched Perry’s profile. What did she mean by that? “Of course I’m ready. I’m brave, bold, clever—my idea to chase the brig into the wind worked like a charm, didn’t it?”

“But what if it hadn’t worked? What was your back-up plan?”

She laughed and clapped Perry on the shoulder. “Back-up plans are for people without confidence in their first plans. And for people who can’t command the waves.” She winked and glanced down at the froth forming against their hull as they glided into place between a wharf and a tall brigantine.