Free Raven Saint by MaryLu Tyndall

of its normal stains and wrinkles, appeared oddly out of place upon his broad chest. And without his pistols and knives draped across it, he could almost pass for a gentleman attending a soirée.
    Almost.
    Behind him, through the stern windows, the sea and sky melded into a smoldering curtain as dark as the captain’s gaze.
    Father Alers gestured to an empty seat at the opposite end of the table. All eyes remained fixed upon Grace as if the men had never seen a woman before, and she began to regret accepting the captain’s invitation to dine with him and his officers.
    She stepped forward and raised her chin. “Have I been invited to partake of a meal, or am I to be the meal itself?”
    Chuckles rumbled around the table. Mr. Thorn coughed, and one side of Captain Dubois’s lips lifted in a sly grin that sent an uncomfortable quiver through her belly.
    â€œWhichever you prefer, mademoiselle.”
    â€œI prefer that you turn this brig around and take me back to Charles Towne at once.”
    â€œThat is not one of your choices.” He raised a brow.
    â€œThen what exactly are my choices?”
    â€œTo dine with us or return to your cabin hungry.” Cocking his head, he sent her a lazy grin.
    Grace bit her lip and scanned the men. A chill pricked her skin. She’d never envisioned herself dining with such depraved characters without benefit of chaperone, without a proper escort—without protection. And though she’d love nothing more than to turn and make a mad dash down the companionway, if God had placed her aboard this ship to convert these men, she couldn’t accomplish that task alone in her cabin. Which was why she’d accepted the captain’s invitation. And why she must now stay.
    â€œI will remain, but not because it pleases you.” She didn’t want to inflate the captain’s already billowing pomposity. Nor did she want to hide her loathing for him, God forgive her.
    Captain Dubois rubbed his chin and gave her a haughty look. “Mademoiselle, I find no pleasure in your company. En fait, it was Father Alers who suggested you join us.”
    Heat flushed up her neck at his insult. Insolent cad! She’d like to tell him that she found no pleasure in his company either, but she knew that wouldn’t be a very prudent thing to say.
    Nor a very Christian thing to say.
    â€œOur food grows cold.” He waved a hand as if brushing her away. Father Alers gestured again toward her chair. “S’il vous plaît, mademoiselle?”
    Gathering her courage along with her skirts, Grace slid onto the wooden seat. Without hesitation, the men sat down and began piling food onto their plates as if it were their last meal.
    â€œPlease, gentlemen. Shouldn’t we ask God’s blessing first?” Grace raised her voice over the clank and clatter of silverware and plates.
    Groans filled the room. Hands halted in midair. Looks of derision shot her way as one by one, the men lowered themselves back in their chairs and dipped their chins.
    Grace sought some measure of support from Father Alers but found only a hint of surprise mixed with curiosity lifting the lines on his face.
    Captain Dubois, on the other hand, shifted his jaw in impatience and nodded for her to continue.
    Grace bowed her head. “Father, we thank You for the bounty that You have provided this night. Please bless it, and may we always be thankful for Your goodness.”
    The clank of spoons resurged like a rising swell before a storm.
    â€œAnd Lord,” she shouted. “I ask You...” Huffs and moans rippled across the cabin, ending in silence. “To open the eyes of these men so that they may see You and know You. Amen.” Grace lifted her face.
    The men stared at her, their mouths agape as if she’d asked for lightning to strike them.
    Ignoring them, she swallowed a lump of fear and nodded toward a steaming platter in the center of the table. “The pork,