Free Tangled Hearts by Heather McCollum Page B

even with the lines swaying. Most of the crew wouldn’t, being afraid to be thrown in the sea.”
    “So ye weren’t…”
    “Afraid? No. I can swim and… storms don’t frighten me.”
    Afraid wasn’t what he was going to say and luckily she’d stopped him from finishing his question. Otherwise she’d probably be flinging something at him now. A shoe, another blade, a chair.
    “I also played whore.”
    “What?” Ewan shot upward.
    “In port, if the men wanted to meet with a contact or just needed supplies, I would dress the part and go with them so the real whores would leave them alone. The women there have a certain code of ethics so they won’t intrude on another’s prize if she’s already won him.”
    Ewan’s breathing came rapid, his body ready to battle, and it took several moments for her words to penetrate the rage numbing his brain to all but vengeance.
    “’Twas why I was left behind when Captain Bart and Will were taken. Will kissed me farewell as if I worked there in port.”
    “Who is this Will again?”
    “A crew member. A good friend. He’s being held with Captain Bart in the Tower.”
    He should probably esteem this Will’s quick thinking to save Dory, but his method was not appreciated. Ewan took a long, even breath.
    “So,” he said and took a step closer to stand before Dory where she sat. The front of her dipped neckline showed the gentle slope of her collarbone. “So ye climb and ye play…” He just couldn’t say the word. “Ye can act.”
    “I also cook stew and help sew the nets and of course…” She moved her hand above her head.
    “Change the weather?” he guessed.
    She nodded. “When needed. If there’s no wind or if a distraction is required, but I won’t do it here.”
    “Yer ability could land ye and us in more trouble than it’s worth,” he reminded her.
    She huffed. “I know, I know. I won’t break my side of the bargain as long as you don’t break yours.”
    “I said I don’t abandon lasses.” He sat next to her. The fire crackled in the hearth across the room. “Ever send lightning bolts down?”
    She couldn’t stop her grin. “Only at really bad ships.”
    “Which ones are they?” He leaned back on his elbows and took in her beautiful features.
    She turned her face away from him to look at the fire, but not before he caught the sudden muting of her spirit, a slight slumping of her shoulders. “The ones that profit from human suffering.”
    “Doesn’t that fit the definition of all pirates?” He didn’t know what he wanted from the jab. But her fury was better than the sadness he’d glimpsed.
    “There are different degrees of suffering,” she answered and climbed onto her knees to crawl back up to the top of the bed. She flipped the quilt over her legs. “The bed is amazingly comfortable,” she said as she wiggled and smoothed the blanket up to her ears.
    “I’ll sleep by the fire.”
    Her gaze found his, eyebrows pinched. “That would be foolish when you have a chance to sleep in luxury.”
    She turned on her side facing the outer wall, dismissing him.
    “Ye don’t mind if I share a bed with ye?”
    “If you intend me harm, you could do it from the hearth nearly as easily.”
    True, but strangely practical for a lass.
    “Also,” she continued, her voice muted by the covers. “I sleep with a blade, and I can send you to hell with one lightning bolt.”
    …
    Ewan sat beside Dory on the wagon seat. The wind teased and dropped her curls around her face to dip inside the wool blanket at her shoulders. Her smooth cheeks were rosy from the chill in the damp air. Dark lashes framed curious, assessing eyes. Every blink was beautiful.
    Searc led them into the bailey of Hampton Court where Henry VIII was in residence on the outskirts of London. The drizzle had continued all the way from Wulfhall and seemed to match the lass’s anxiousness.
    “Gerald,” the older Englishman who met them called to a lad. “Take the wagon with its