...By the light of the rising moon, the Gabrielle raised a single, oil-coated sail and slipped from the dark harbor without so much as a splash. Rhea Galant stood at the bow, her hands braced on the salt-encrusted rail, and stared out at the open sea.

The wind off the water lifted her hair and dried the sheen of sweat from her brow. Soon they’d be away from Tremont and safe beyond the dangerous reefs that protected the shoreline and kept the harbor waters calm. With any luck, before the season changed and the cooler breezes of autumn chased the ship south toward the equator, Gabrielle’s crew would collect the spoils due them for this evening’s work and likely pass the stormy winter months docked in some idyllic port, spending their gold on fine meals and fancy baubles.

Rhea rubbed her arms to banish the slight chill in the midnight air and concentrated on the froth churned up below Gabby’s razor-sharp bow. If this was what pirating felt like, she could get used to it quickly enough. The rush of air in her face and the flutter of nervous energy in her belly made her feel free and very much alive. This was far more excitement than she’d ever known growing up in the secluded meadows surrounding Carnatta Abbey, and it made her early life seem dismal by comparison.

A firm hand closed over her shoulder, and she jumped. Though Captain Fallon had been lenient with her since Gabby’s all-female crew liberated her from the mind-numbing silence of the abbey, this was probably no time to be caught daydreaming.

“We couldn’t have planned better weather,” Fallon said. Her musical voice held satisfaction rather than reproach, and Rhea allowed herself to relax under the weight of Fallon’s touch.

“Yes, milady. Perfect.”

“We’ll round the cape long before Tremont wakes to find their princeling missing.”

For that, Rhea had no response. As a new conscript to Gabby’s crew—and glad of it, she reminded herself—she had no say in how Fallon conducted ship’s business. Her lot in life now, somewhat similar to what it had it been at the abbey, was to follow orders with a glad heart.

Her silence prompted the captain to exert a gentle pressure on her arm and turn her toward the ship’s aft deck. “This is where your job begins, my foundling. Our prisoner is your charge until his ransom’s paid, so go and tend him. Keep him calm and quiet. I so hate to hear a man whimpering, or worse cursing, through the night. He’ll be waking soon and starting to demand things, as the wealthy always do.”

Rhea’s stomach knotted beneath her tunic, and she pressed a palm to her belly to ease the discomfort. The nursemaid skills the sisters at Carnatta had taught her made her a logical choice to care for the Gabrielle’s crew members on the rare occasion one of Fallon’s hardy followers was hurt or ill, but Rhea saw this assignment as more punishment than privilege. An angry lord would treat her as a servant no doubt, and being associated with the pirates who’d drugged his tavern drink and absconded with him in the middle of the night would certainly earn her no more than his contempt.

She stifled a sigh and gave Fallon a sidelong glance. The captain’s golden hair glittered in the moonlight, and her eyes flashed with mischief.

“Aye, milady. I’ll care for him as best he permits me.”

Fallon winked at her and patted her behind to move her along to her chore. “If he’s rude to you, call Tessa in to discipline him. She’ll enjoy it, and he’ll learn proper manners quick enough with his cock in a vice.” Fallon laughed, tucked her thumbs into her belt and whirled away to survey her ship.