Worse, FitzRoy was so possessive, even though they’d stopped bunking together, that there was no way she could satisfy her need with someone else in the crew. Not without winning them a tough time from him—Aedan had learned that lesson the hard way.

“Well, anyway,” she said, voice coming out strangled, “Barnacle doesn’t like anyone but me, so I’m sure she won’t bother you, Navy boy.” She backed away, calves slamming into the low edge of her sea chest, making her wince. “She’s far smarter than FitzRoy—whatever you did to persuade him to trust you won’t work on her. And I don’t trust you, either.”

His back and shoulders straightened, squared, just like the ridiculous desk in his cabin on the Venatrix, all hint of flirtation and informality snuffed out. “An excellent position, madam. I suggest you maintain it.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, I will.” She shoved the door open and gave him a sardonic smile. “Enjoy sleeping with the cat—she likes having her belly rubbed.”

Barnacle hated having her belly rubbed by anyone other than Vice. She’d scratch the man’s hands to ribbons.

Vice bit back a laugh and left, slamming the door in her wake.

It was a wonder her skin didn’t sizzle in the night air, it was so hot. She sank against the door and huffed out a long breath.

Gods, please say Captain Knigh Blackwood’s presence on The Morrigan was only temporary while they gained the Navy’s trust. If it went on too long, there was a good chance either she or he wouldn’t survive.

Adjustment

It was worse than Vice had feared.

Far, far worse.

Scratching Barnacle’s chin, she watched Blackwood doing—

“What is he doing?” she whispered to the cat.

Wynn and Effie stood at his side, heads bowed, looking at a short length of rope in his hands.

Knots? A bloody Navy officer thought he could waltz on deck and show the pirate sisters how to tie knots? She laughed, the sound somewhere between amused and frustrated.

This was the third time in a week she’d spotted him changing things. Yesterday, he’d raised a query with Perry about the efficient stowing of hammocks. His second day aboard, she’d watched as he’d checked and adjusted every single spare line on the ship. He’d coiled it afresh, tying a new hitch, and hanging it up, perfectly neat.

FitzRoy had let him on the ship and given him her cabin, but interfering with the crew was taking liberties. He might still have the title Captain, but he wasn’t The Morrigan’s captain. He wasn’t even really part of the crew—Perry had told her that part of the deal meant he wasn’t to take part in any attacks since this wasn’t officially a Navy ship. He was only here to observe.