Madwulf’s attention stayed on Ashley, his tone goading. “She took up with Lord Cutler in his cabin for nigh two weeks. His men—who are now my men—claim the two of them fucked like rabbits.”

My heart hammered so hard I saw black spots.

Priest’s head snapped toward Ashley, his ruse of revenge morphing into blatant jealousy. I’d seen him castrate men for touching me without my permission. He would have no qualms about killing Ashley first and asking questions later.

Except he didn’t go for any of the weapons on his person. His hands didn’t even twitch for them. If he had, one of these pirates would’ve ran a blade through him. There would be a vote on who got the privilege of murdering the commodore.

Even so, Priest never exercised self-control in these situations. How was he reining in his jealous, impulsive reactions now? I didn’t know what it was, but something about this niggled.

I needed to send a message to him without Madwulf suspecting our relationship. I had to get through to my husband the same way he’d tried to get through to me a month ago.

My mind sprinted through every argument Priest and I had exchanged about his adulterous relationship. I’d asked him why he protected his lover and remembered his response.

“Yes, he’s my lover.” My voice drew his eyes to mine. Then I threw his words back at him. “I protect what I love. Simple as that.”

We stared at each other, entangled, inseparable. I watched him recall our conversation and slowly process what I hadn’t said aloud.

I love Ashley Cutler. Killing him would be the same as me killing your lover.

Comprehension flashed across his face, there and gone in a blink.

Message received.

He stood and paced toward the table, running a hand down his face, hiding his expression.

Ashley sat stiffly beside me, eyes straight ahead and lips clamped around the gag. I couldn’t imagine the state of confusion he was drowning in right now. He didn’t have a clue about my history with Priest. Christ, he didn’t even know we were married. No one in this room knew.

With our hands bound to the beam at our backs, he stretched out a finger and hooked it around mine. The gesture meant more in that moment than anything else. We were a unified front. We’d get through this.

Across the room, Priest bent over the table, glaring at a plate of cut oranges.

Lounging idly around the cottage, Madwulf’s men talked amongst themselves, the din of their overlapping voices clustered with questions and speculation. With every second, the air thickened, filling with uncertainty. Madwulf watched it all with a calculating glint in his eyes.

I saw the moment Priest made a decision. The muscles in his beautiful face slackened. His shoulders relaxed, and he straightened.