I had no evidence to back up my conclusion. It was a gut feeling. But my instincts rarely steered me wrong. Case in point… Priest Farrell. When I’d met the king of libertines, my gut had known he would ruin me. My heart just hadn’t cared.

Other than Priest, I’d outmaneuvered most of my adversaries because I was a woman and considered the weaker sex by default. On a ship, at a tavern, astride a horse, in a bed, it didn’t matter. Men always misjudged me and paid for that mistake.

Lord Cutler, however, didn’t fit the molds of my foes. Nothing shone in his demeanor, features, or stature that betrayed his thoughts. I positively couldn’t read him.

For the first time since waking on HMS Blitz, I felt real fear. It scraped icy fingers up my spine and flapped leathery wings in my stomach. But I didn’t let it surface as I met the commodore stare for stare.

He was, quite unfortunately, a handsome son of a bitch. Inarguably handsome, but in a rigid, chillingly regal manner. His hair was trimmed close to his scalp on the sides, leaving a short length of inky etiquette on top. His blunt jawline, with all its right angles, was so porcelain-like and hairless I wondered if he could even grow whiskers on that rock-hard face.

But the longer I gazed into those menacing blue eyes, the more I realized his youthful features were deceiving. He held himself with the confident, hardened stance of a man who had more experience than me on the sea. If I had to guess, he was in his early thirties. At least ten years my senior.

He reminded me of my father with that jaded look in his stare. The one that confessed he could inflict suffering without being affected by it. Only my father hadn’t been able to retain that vicious air around me.

I wondered if anything or anyone could rattle Lord Cutler’s insensibility.

My blood thrilled at the challenge.

Tense silence measured the passing seconds until I realized his reticence was a weapon he used to terrorize his enemies. I wished I could apply the same tactic, but his stillness made my skin itch.

I raised my chin and held his gaze. “If saving drowning women is your way of soliciting female companionship for dinner, you’re trying too hard.”

“Bennett Sharp, you’ve been taken into custody for piracy and murder. I shall transport you to England, a month’s journey thereabouts, where you will stand trial for your crimes.”

His deep aristocratic voice pronounced every syllable with perfect English inflection. But his arrogance made him complacent. He hadn’t considered the possibility that I’d arranged Jade’s escape, set up my own rescue, and had a backup plan or two in the event that Priest failed.