As the lieutenants shoved me forward, I fought fearlessly, furiously, thrashing, spitting, and doing what any man would do in my position. Instinct took over until all that existed was the savage impetuosity to protect myself.

But in the end, I was too small, unarmed, outnumbered, and quickly subdued.

My knees scraped along the planks as the lieutenants shoved and kicked me into the hold. I landed on my backside, and the sound of the gate locking surged bile through my chest.

I was a pirate captain, dammit. I’d maimed, tortured, and slaughtered some decisively evil and scary men. I didn’t possess Priest’s magnetic ability to win over a crowd, but I could command them with my eyes closed. I just needed them to see beyond my femaleness.

A pair of trousers would have been splendid right now.

Breathing deeply, I slowed the heave of my lungs, rose to my full height, and steeled my spine. Then I turned and faced forty ravenous rogues.

“Point me to your captain.” I searched the overcrowded space, taking an inventory of scars, long greasy braids, suspicious skin sores, and creatures crawling in beards.

If I’d kept Priest in the bilge for a month without a wash bucket, would he have reached this level of pungency? I didn’t think so, but I was rather inclined to favor his appearance, no matter everything else that was wrong with him.

The pack of thieves leered with wild eyes. Some sniffed the air in front of me. Others grunted throaty noises.

None pointed out the captain.

My teeth sawed the insides of my cheeks. It didn’t matter if they all came from the same crew or met one another in this hold. Pirates were a democratic breed, and they always had a leader.

“Were you hit on your heads?” I balled my hands at my sides, concealing the nervous shaking. “Or do you not speak the king’s English?”

“The king doesn’t speak English, lassie.” The low, rough Scottish accent came from somewhere in the back.

It was true that King George—who hailed from Germany to England—refused to speak in the tongue of his inherited realm. But that was neither here nor there.

What concerned me was the owner of that Scottish brogue. He was the leader, and if he knew things about the English king, he wasn’t without intellect. That didn’t bode well for me. Neither did the rising agitation rippling through his men.

I faced the direction of the voice. “Show yourself, Highlander.”

The stench of body odor shifted around me before ruthless fingers captured my wrists. Innumerable hands. There were so many attackers all at once it only took seconds to restrain my limbs and shove me deep into the sticky horde of bodies.