I annoyed him. It must have been the beard incident. Evidently, he still blamed me for that unfortunate show of disrespect. If I had my voice, I would explain to him that I wasn’t his enemy, and I wouldn’t interfere in his plans to raise hell on the high seas with Blitz. I couldn’t, however, speak for the man beside me. Ashley wanted his ship back.

Perhaps it was for the best that my stoically simmering commodore was gagged.

“Do you ken this officer?” Madwulf thrust his chin at Ashley, his question directed at Priest.

“I know he’s the reason I lost her trail a month ago.” Priest prowled toward me, but his glare was all for Ashley. “I was so close to catching her. So. Damned. Close. I daresay I wasn’t keen to learn that the Royal Navy had plucked her right out of my reach.”

Ashley glared at him, emotionless. Utterly unmoved. Meanwhile, my vital organs worked themselves into a frenzy.

Whatever game Priest was playing, I would go along with it. I trusted him with my life. It was Ashley’s odds of survival that shook me to the core. Priest wouldn’t protect him. If Priest discovered our relationship, he would gut Ashley himself.

“Let’s hear the story, Priest.” Madwulf walked a circuit around us, watching, analyzing. “What did this puny bit of skirt do to drive you to the extremes of a murderous desperado?”

“She killed my father.”

Well, that much was true. Priest would’ve done the deed himself. I’d just happened to thrust the blade first.

Madwulf narrowed his eyes, pouted his lips, and gave a sharp nod. Kin was invaluable to the Highlanders. It was a Scotsman’s duty, a war cry in his blood, to avenge fallen family members.

Priest knew that as he stood over my outstretched legs and leaned down. With a hacking sound, he expelled a wad of spit onto the floorboard between my thighs, missing the hem of the shirt by a hairsbreadth. Then he backhanded my face for good measure.

Despite the ringing in my ears, I had to give him some merit. His stellar performance sent the room into cheerful approval.

Beside me, Ashley didn’t move. He’d been under the impression that I’d spent one night with Priest Farrell two years ago and hadn’t seen the libertine since. Hopefully, we would live long enough for me to explain.

With any luck, the audience of ten or so armed pirates would move out soon and finish plundering the island. Priest could overpower and kill a few men by himself. But not this many.