Page 77 of Any Duke in a Storm

“You fucking bastard,” she’d spat. “Untie me or I will gut you from nose to navel.”

He’d winked, the flash of unfettered rage in her eyes making him even harder. “You are stunning when you’re mad.”

“Fuck you! Estelle! Smalls!” she had yelled right before he put a gag over her mouth, narrowly missing his fingers being bitten off.

“They’ve already gone. Be good for me.”

The feral look in her eyes at that while she struggled futilely against her bonds had promised bloody retribution. He had no doubt she would come through onher vicious promises, but she’d be safe and that was all that mattered.

Whether he’d be safe fromherwas a different story…

Raphael opened his mouth to answer his uncle with some tale that he’d commandeered her crew and left her on some other island, and then shut it at the wave of chatter hitting the rafters. His eyes peered down through the tables dotting the floor of the main hall to find the source of the disturbance, and his stomach dropped as the object of his every obsession sauntered in.Fuck.

Raphael blinked. How she’d escaped his knots, he’d never know. He’d left Boisie, Gibbons, and Balzac, along with two more of his own men from Exuma behind to make sure that she was safe and remained in her cabin. But here she was, Bonnie Bess in the gorgeous flesh—trousers, corset, maroon gold-buttoned frock coat, scarlet lips, and armed to the fucking teeth.

The men in question he’d left to guard her limped in behind her in various degrees of injury. Boisie was bleeding, Gibbons was limping, and Balzac was clutching his crotch. He bit back a snort. Narina would have appreciated the irony of that, if she’d been here. Though they were all still alive…Hewas the only person she truly wanted to kill.

“I hear you’ve been looking for me, Prince,” she said loudly enough for her beautiful voice to carry as she prowled forward. “Bonnie Bess at your service.”

The men around the tables stared slack-jawed, reacting much the same as he’d done the first time he’d seenher. That Bonnie Bess was, in fact, stunning. Green eyes slammed into his from beneath the brim of her flashy sennit hat, and he flinched at the wrath that boiled there. That glare alone should have incinerated him where he stood, and then she smiled…a savage grin that promised violence. Hell, why did the thought of that make him so hot?

Dubois still had not said a word, his gaze quiet and contemplative, and it made every hair on Raphael’s body stand on end. He should have been outraged, but he was calm. Too calm.

“Bonnie Bess,” he drawled. “You stood me up in Tobago, if I recall. My boy Davy informed me that your ship left.”

If Raphael did not know her so well, he wouldn’t have seen the two fingers of her right hand twitch against her trousers. His gaze jumped to the thin lad who had served as both Dubois’s and Delaney’s runner and cabin boy for years. Raphael had never liked the little weasel who was the worst kind of snitcher.

“Alas, business called,” Lisbeth trilled, sauntering closer, and Raphael’s heart stuttered. Her guise as Bonnie Bess might fool someone from a ways away, but it wouldn’t fool his uncle. “You know how that is for sailors like us. We’re all opportunists at heart.”

His gaze slid to Raphael for a beat. “Lucrative?”

“The only kind, Prince.” She propped her hands to her hips. “I would like to make you an offer.”

Dubois leaned forward in his seat, propping his handsto the table, and waved as if he were Louis-Napoléon himself. “Speak.”

Her mouth tightened at the derisive command, but she kept up the charade. “I recently sailed with a hefty amount of cargo to New York. A hundred thousand dollars’ worth when I return to collect from my men trading inland there. It’s yours, for a place here.”

Raphael didn’t need to look at his uncle to see that he was interested. A hundred thousand dollars was nothing to sneer at. “What’s stopping me from killing you and taking your bounty? You’re here uninvited.”

“I invited her,” Raphael said quickly, leaning back in his chair with the most lascivious smile he could muster. He licked his lips. “You see what she looks like. I can’t wait to discover what’s underneath all those layers.”

His uncle laughed. “If you tried to fuck her, she’d cut your cock off and feed it to you.” The men roared with laughter, slamming their tankards down on the tables. “But you don’t call the shots here, Nephew, I do.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Raphael saw Smalls, Estelle, and the rest of her crew gathering to defend their captain, if it came to that. This was going to turn into a bloodbath if he didn’t intervene.

“I’ll tell you what, Uncle,” he said with a loud burp and a jester’s grin. “How about a friendly boxing match. For the spoils and the prize. First to five points and winner takes all.”

Dubois sneered. “Why duel when I can just take? And you’re drunk. It would be like snatching a rattle from a baby.”

“Maybe.” Raphael stood with a rowdy laugh and spread his hands. “But the men deserve a show, don’t they?” At that, the cheering began anew. His uncle might think he held all the power, but he did not. Most of the men here were common-born and a raucous mob, and nothing pleased the mob more than the promise of entertainment and blood. As much as he pretended to rule his fake kingdom, Dubois kept himself apart from the men…and it rankled. Raphael would play to that discontent if he had to.

“I am not a prize!” Lisbeth bit out from where she stood.

“Ah, girl, but you are,” Dubois drawled. “You’ve wandered into the lion’s den and now you must pay the levies.” Two burly men stood, barricading her between them, but her face showed no sign of alarm. “Don’t worry, Bess. I promise I’ll take good care of you.”

“Perhaps I’ll take good care of you, Prince,” she drawled back, matching his tone and wandering her fingertips down to the hilt of the cutlass that hung at her side. “If I’m not pleasured well, I’m rather fond of taking body parts as mementos of my lovers.”

That earned her a round of boisterous whistles and more laughter. Tipping up his mug, Raphael swayed and glanced at his uncle, wondering if he’d refuse the bait but knowing he wouldn’t when all the men were watching and heckling. “Tell you what, old man,” he said, fully intending to goad him. “Even if I’m drunk, it’s probably not a fair fight.”

---