I didn’t trust him. Not at all. I was the one in charge. The captain of this ship.

But he’d always been my captain. The one I could depend on while one-hundred-and-twenty men depended on me.

I saw myself slipping off the cask, my tired legs carrying me toward his waiting arms. I saw him guiding me onto his lap. Tucking my head into the warm, solid juncture of his bare shoulder and neck. Rocking me into a peaceful lull. Murmuring in his dulcet Welsh baritone. Stroking my hair, my arm, my face. I saw us sinking into the intimacy of our bodies, breathing into it, into that space where our heat gathered, where our scents mingled and fused, where there was no physical contact yet a full-body awareness of its existence.

It was unreal, just imagining it. Remembering it. I craved the feeling. Yearned to collect it, bottle it, and carry it with me always. Maybe if I indulged one more time…

No, no, I needed to stop. My heart was too broken, my head too crowded with conflict.

Priest had fooled me once, but I couldn’t regret that failure. How else would I learn, if not from my own mistakes?

I blinked, drew in a breath, and forced myself to see what was really in front of me. No matter how hard we tried or how much we changed, the shattered remains of yesterday would never fit into today. Too many broken pieces.

He gazed at me with unblinking focus, assessing my body language, studying my expressions, tracking my every breath.

I couldn’t stand it. “You can drop that silent stare. I’m not that interesting.”

“I disagree.” He patted his lap. “Come.”

“Ask me.” I leaned forward and hardened my eyes. “Beg.”

He made a fierce face, complete with a bestial snarl, flared nostrils, and bared teeth. Just when I thought he would explode, he reined it all in.

“Will you sit with me?” His jaw worked through grinding resistance before he bit out the rest. “Please, sit with me?”

“No.”

“Dammit, woman!” He flew to his feet, rattling the chain and flexing his arms. “Let me hold you for one godforsaken minute!”

“Forget it, Priest. Or better yet…” I rose from the barrel, fighting exhaustion. “Forget me.”

“Never.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“Remind me.”

“Free me, and I’ll show—”

“Now, now, my unfaithful knave. I cannot trust you aboard my ship unless I carry you as a prisoner, for we both know you’ll be caballing with my men, clapping me in those irons, and running away with my ship a-pirating.”

“Unshackle me, and I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you—”

“What will you show me?” My voice rose through several octaves. “Love?”

“Yes.”

“Love doesn’t betray.” That familiar pain announced itself in the cracks of my voice. “Why did you do it?”