Hawk glared into her face for a long moment, eyes narrow and cold. Then, with a sharp exhale, he shook his head, taking a step forward. “You have a lot of gumption for a young lad.”

He may have meant it as a compliment, but it held the intonation of an insult. He crossed his arms, walling himself off as she clenched her fists

“I have more backbone than you,” snapped Eloise. She moved to meet him, getting up in his face.

“And no respect for your superiors,” Hawk retorted, stepping to the side to flank her.

They were beginning to draw attention. The crew, including Pierce, turned to stare as they circled one another, the sounds of celebration dying away.

“My respect has to be earned,” Eloise said, turning towards him. “I’m not a dog. I do not give my loyalty to anyone who asks for it.”

Finn was looking back and forth between them, mouth slightly agape. “Eli,” he whispered, the words choked. “Eli, stand down—”

Hawk waved the boy off, silencing him. “Why do you care what happens to that woman?” he asked, tilting his head. “You don’t know her. She means nothing to you. Why should it matter whether she lives or dies?”

She thought of her own moment of peril: how he had laid his sword against her attacker’s neck, determined to assist a woman he had never met, seemingly with no concern for his own safety. The paradox was maddening. How could she have been so wrong about who he was? “I don’t believe you’re truly callous enough to see a woman in distress and turn your back on her.”

Hawk raised his eyebrows. “What led you to think so?” he said. “It’s not for nothing that they call me the Bloody Hawk. I rarely spare those I come across—haven’t you heard?”

A cry sounded from The Galleon as the imperiled woman waved her arms. “Halloo! I’m still here, and the ship is going down! Can someone please help?”

For a long moment, Eloise held Hawk’s gaze, waiting for him to make a move. When it was clear he had no intention of budging, Eloise hoisted herself up onto the railing. “I meant it. Either you get The Serpent to pull up alongside her, or I go myself.”

Hawk glowered, fearsome and exasperated; but then he relented with a heavy sigh. He muttered something about nuisances before shouting for Pierce to steer the ship closer to The Galleon.

Eloise grinned, triumphant, and climbed back aboard the deck, looking smug.

**

The Galleon was a ghost ship. Between the weight of the fallen mast and the cannon holes in her aft, she was listing dangerously to one side. The woman was clinging to the railing of the main deck, alarm clear on her face as the ship sank slowly but steadily into the depths of the sea. The relief in her eyes was plain as the ship pulled up alongside her, close enough for her to climb aboard.

With Hawk’s hand on her elbow, the woman stepped carefully over the gap between the ships. The captain made sure she had landed safely before letting go. Eloise felt her heart flutter a little at the sight. If Eloise ignored the barbs she and Hawk had just exchanged, he appeared once again to be the perfect gentleman. Odd how he could play the part so well.

The woman crossed her arms, glaring at them all. She was tall and elegant, even after her brush with drowning. She was dressed in fine garments, though they were irreparably damaged by the sea and salt, and her lovely long hair was tousled and windswept. Eloise could see vestiges of herself in the woman’s demeanor—a girl of good breeding, down on her luck.

“My name is Aurora Kildare,” the woman said. “I am Admiral Kildare’s daughter.”

Hawk chuckled. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said, offering her a sardonic bow. The crew laughed aloud at his antics, jeering at the poor young lady before them.

This did nothing to improve Aurora’s mood. “I was on my way to meet my father,” she said, her voice frigid. “I demand to be taken to shore immediately!”

“Hear that, lads?” Hawk said, looking around the crew. “She demands!”

Another wave of laughter answered him. Aurora looked around, frowning as she took in the sight of the crew. “Good Lord, what a motley bunch. The less of my time spent here, the better for all of us, I’m sure.”

Hawk sneered, rolling his eyes. “Listen closely, Your Ladyship. If it weren’t for this young man here—” Here he paused to point to Eloise. “—you wouldn’t be here on my ship to begin with. You’d be enjoying a nice little trip out to sea, clinging to some flotsam. Perhaps, if you were very lucky, the previous crew might save you; but I wouldn’t count on it. Still, if you prefer their company, we can arrange for a return visit.”

Aurora ignored Hawk’s barb and turned to Eloise. “Thank you,” she said, and Eloise could hear a germ of sincerity beneath her snobbery. “I can see that you, at least, have more refinement than your captain.”

Hawk snorted, turning away from Aurora. “Finn,” he said sharply, ignoring Aurora in turn, “take Miss Kildare to an unoccupied cabin.”

“Aye aye, sir,” said Finn. “Right this way, miss.”

Aurora gave a haughty flip of her disastrous hair before following him down the narrow stairs, stepping gingerly so as not to trip.

Hawk watched her go and shook his head. “Women,” he said disdainfully.

Eloise held in her sigh. Once again, she had to ask herself how she could possibly have been so wrong about him. “Is that really quite fair of you to—”

She stopped. Hawk’s white shirt was spotted through with red near the shoulder. “Captain,” she gasped, wide-eyed and staring. “You’re bleeding!”

“It’s just a flesh wound,” he insisted, brushing her off, and turned to walk away.

Men, she thought, and nearly rolled her eyes. Were they all so impervious to genuine concern? She grabbed him by the uninjured arm, pulling him back towards her. “Don’t be stupid,” she snapped. “Do you want it to get infected? Let me dress it for you.”

He scowled at her. “First he berates me, then he wants to care for me,” he muttered. “Fine. If that will put a stop to your pestering…”

He allowed himself to be herded back to his quarters, where Eloise set about gathering basic medical supplies. She had to shoo the cat out of the way first, as he had made himself quite comfortable atop a pile of bandages. Beauregard laid down in the middle of the floor and stretched, casting her an affronted glare. “Why do you have a cat?”

“Not my cat,” Hawk said, leaning against the bookcase. “He’s the ship’s cat. Good mouser.”

Beauregard had rolled onto his back, exposing his lean stomach. It hardly appeared he’d eaten recently at all. “If you say so,” Eloise said incredulously.

She found a pile of clean rags that were mostly free of cat hair. “Take off your shirt,” she ordered, looking very decidedly at the rectangles of cloth and not at Hawk.

Hawk complied, gritting his teeth as his injured shoulder stretched, straining his wound. She heard the small sound of pain that he tried to suppress and looked over, brows furrowed in worry.

Immediately, she wished that she hadn’t. His bare torso was as sculpted as the rest of him, and it left her mouth just as dry. His abs were well-muscled, and his tattooed chest was firm, with a light scattering of hair that led tantalizingly downwards. She swallowed and walked towards him, feeling, save for the bandages and alcohol she was holding, much like a girl on her wedding night.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asked.

“What?” Eloise squeaked.

He laughed quietly. “Tended an open wound,” he said, as though that should have been obvious. “I’ve seen what happens when you try things you’ve not previously attempted.”

She flushed, remembering her near-tumble off the mast. “Oh,” she said, with some relief, “Yes. This, I’ve done before.” And she had, though bandaging her sisters’ scraped kneecaps seemed like lifetimes away. He looked at her with skepticism. “I promise,” she added.

She soaked a clean rag with alcohol as he positioned himself on the edge of the desk. When she pressed the wet cloth to his wound, he hissed.

“Hush,” she murmured, her free hand resting against his chest to soothe him. “It’s alright. The pain is good. It’ll burn out the infection.”

She removed the cloth, taking a closer look at the wound. It was fairly shallow, and at least the blade hadn’t hit a major artery. But she knew from experience that even the shallowest, seemingly innocuous wounds could become infected. Best to bandage it and keep it clean.

She moved in with a fresh segment of the cloth, tending to the edges of the wound. “It’s a clean cut,” she said. “It should heal easily. You were lucky.”

She paused, her hand resting on his torso. His heart throbbed beneath her hand; and when she looked into his face, she was both thrilled and shocked to find he was studying her through half-lidded eyes, face reflecting a mirror of her own desire.