“If we don’t get a good day’s work out of you, we’ll maroon you.”He ignored Barnaby’s raised eyebrow. They’d never marooned anybody before, even the English nobles they hated, but Gideon meant to put the fear of God into the man.”

“And how is the expectant mother? You mustn't tax yourself, you know.I don't want my nephew born early enough to raise eyebrows."Gideon laid his hand in the small of her back in a protective gesture she knew all too well. "Are you implying that I'm the kind of man who'd allow his wife to tax herself?""If the shoe fits-""Behave, both of you," she admonished as Gideon bristled and Jordan glared. "I swear, when you two get near each other, you act like school boys fighting over a half-pence.""Oh, you're much more valuable than a half-pence," Jordan retorted. Before Gideon could say anything to that, he added, "And in any case, I didn't come over here to anger you, moppet. I merey wanted to let you know I'm leaving.""Good," Gideon mumbled under his breath.”

“He was as temptingly made as the first Adam must have been. God hadn't shirked his duties when creating Gideon Horn. No, indeed. In fact, she wondered if God hadn't put just a jot too much effort into it. He should have given the man something more useful than good looks and a treacherous charm. Humility, for example. She tried to imagine a humble Gideon, but it was impossible. Such a creature would be beyond even the Almighty's powers of imagination.”

“And he was leveling the pistol on Gideon as if he itched to fire it. “What do you want with me? Is it gold you want?”“There’s only one thing I want of you, and that’s Sara,” Gideon said bluntly, ignoring the pistol. “I want my fiancé. Either you take me to her, or I hold you and your ship captive until you do.”“Or I could shoot you and your cursed pirates. Even now my men have yours under their guns and can pick them off at will if I command it.”Gideon sneered at him. “Barnaby!” he shouted. “How fare the earl’s men and their guns?”Barnaby and the other fifteen men emerged from behind the forward house, pushing a group of disarmed and disgruntled sailors ahead of them. “Oh, they fare quite well, Captain. As for their guns, let’s just say we’ve added to our arsenal substantially today.”

“She realized she’d been staring only when he said, his voice lower and huskier, “Who are you looking for?”His words snapped her out of her terrible trance. “I . . . I . . .” she thought furiously and said the only thing that came to mind. “For you. I was looking for you.”Suspicion flashed in his sea-blue eyes. “In the rigging?”“Yes. Why not?”“Either you’re very ignorant about what a captain does, or you’re lying. Why is it?”Ignoring the plummeting sensation in her stomach, she forced a smile to her face. “Really, Gideon, you are so suspicious. Last night you accused me of plotting behind your back, and this morning you accuse me of lying. Who else would I be looking for but you?”

“Nothing she says or does would surprise me.” Gideon faced the helm once more, putting his back to Barnaby. He wasn’t about to go anywhere near Sara again, not the way he was feeling now. Let Barnaby deal with her today.“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean it’s nothing to worry about. You’ve got more schooling than I have, but isn’t Lysistrata the play where the women refuse to have relations with their husbands until the men agree to stop going to war?”With a groan, Gideon clenched the wheel. Lysistrata was among the many words of literature his father had forced down his throat once he was old enough to read. “Yes. But don’t try to tell me she’s teaching them that. It’s Greek, for god’s sake. They wouldn’t understand a word, even if she knew it well enough to recite it.”“She knows it well enough to give them a free translation, I assure you. When I left her she was telling them the story with great enthusiasm.”Barnaby reached for the helm when Gideon swung away from it with an oath. “I should never have taken her aboard,” he grumbled as he strode for the ladder. “I should have sent her back to England gagged and bound!”

“He strode forward, heedless of the murmuring that began among the women when they saw him. Then Sara turned, and her gaze met his. Instantly a guilty blush spread over her cheeks that told him all he needed to know about her intent.“Good afternoon, ladies,” he said in steely tones. “Class is over for today. Why don’t you all go up on deck and get a little fresh air?”When the women looked at Sara, she folded her hands primly in front of her and stared at him. “You have no right to dismiss my class, Captain Horn. Besides, we aren’t finished yet. I was telling them a story—”“I know. You were recounting Lysistrata.”Surprise flickered briefly in her eyes, but then turned smug and looked down her aristocratic little nose at him. “Yes, Lysistrata,” she said in a sweet voice that didn’t fool him for one minute. “Surely you have no objection to my educating the women on the great works of literature, Captain Horn.”“None at all.” He set his hands on his hips. “But I question your choice of material. Don’t you think Aristophanes is a bit beyond the abilities of your pupils?”He took great pleasure in the shock that passed over Sara’s face before she caught herself. Ignoring the rustle of whispers among the women, she stood a little straighter. “As if you know anything at all about Aristophanes.”“I don’t have to be an English lordling to know literature, Sara. I know all the blasted writers you English make so much of. Any one of them would have been a better choice for your charges than Aristophanes.”As she continued to glower at him unconvinced, he scoured his memory, searching through the hundreds of verse passages his English father had literally pounded into him. “You might have chosen Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew, for example—‘fie, fie! Unknit that threatening unkind brow. / And dart not scornful glances from those eyes / to wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor.’”It had been a long time since he’d recited his father’s favorite passages of Shakespeare, but the words were as fresh as if he’d learned them only yesterday. And if anyone knew how to use literature as a weapon, he did. His father had delighted in tormenting him with quotes about unrepentant children.Sara gaped at him as the other women looked from him to her in confusion. “How . . . I mean . . . when could you possibly—”“Never mind that. The point us, you’re telling them the tale of Lysistrata when what you should be telling them is ‘thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper. /thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee / and for thy maintenance commits his body / to painful labour by both sea and land.’”Her surprise at this knowledge of Shakespeare seemed to vanish as she recognized the passage he was quoting—the scene where Katherine accepts Petruchio as her lord and master before all her father’s guests.Sara’s eyes glittered as she stepped from among the women and came nearer to him. “We are not your wives yet. And Shakespeare also said ‘sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more / men were deceivers ever / one foot on sea and one on shore / to one thing constant never.’”“Ah, yes. Much Ado About Nothing. But even Beatrice changes her tune in the end, doesn’t she? I believe it’s Beatrice who says, ‘contempt, farewell! And maiden pride, adieu! / no glory lives behind the back of such./ and Benedick, love on, I will requite thee, / taming my wild heart to thy loving hand.’”“She was tricked into saying that! She was forced to acknowledge him as surely as you are forcing us!”“Forcing you?” he shouted. “You don’t know the meaning of force! I swear, if you—”He broke off when he realized that the women were staring at him with eyes round and fearful. Sara was twisting his words to make him sound like a monster. And succeeding, too, confound her.”