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sea. What had happened to justify her presence on board ship? What would drive any woman to face her worst fears head on?
    â€œHenry,” she mumbled.
    Percy tuned in to her voice. Was Henry her lover’s name — her husband’s name? Lieutenant Henry Guffald had been aboard the Octavia . Was she calling out for him as a woman would a lover? Percy thought more in depth on the subject, which somehow rankled him, though he had no idea why. Guffald was a good man. The lieutenant had certainly fought long and hard in the Octavia ’s defense. But did Henry have other reasons for protecting her? His old friend had certainly never given him cause to doubt his honorable intentions before, but even the thought of Henry protecting Constance displeased him. He did not want to think of the vulnerable woman in Henry’s arms, curled against his body like she was now, or with any other man, especially not in the throes of passion.
    Percy closed his eyes, realizing his mistake too late. Images of Constance in Henry’s arms tormented him with abandon, sending an unruly amount of energy surging throughout his limbs. There was no mistaking the new sensations stirred when the woman in question shifted positions, making him ache for what he dared not take.
    Constance fit him to perfection. She was a tempting creature and Percy wanted to believe that her innocence wasn’t a façade, that he had every right to claim her as his own. If he wanted to believe his men, he’d won that right by saving her life, by casting aside his purpose in finding his sister’s killers to shield her from Frink’s demonic amusement. She was in his cabin. She was his to do with as he pleased. She was part of his world now.
    Reality returned and logic prevailed, even as Lady Constance moved, draping her hair across his chest when she turned her head. She moved her hand across his abdomen to readjust her position and rubbed her inner thigh against his groin. Percy’s agony amplified. Lustful thoughts burned a fiery hole in his mind. Guilt accused him of being a cad for becoming aroused by an innocent.
    Another feminine moan caressed his ears.
    Lady Constance was Simon’s niece, God save him. It took every ounce of his will to restrain himself from turning Constance onto her back and simply taking what he wanted — needed — now.
    In a perfect world, she would be married to a notable member of the ton, preparing to offer her virginal buffet to an eager, rutting husband. But this was his world and it was an imperfect place. She was with him , not a mealy mouthed lord. She was in a pirate’s bunk on a pirate ship, not a dandy’s bed. Though he was a member of the peerage and could make her a good husband, he would never surrender his identity, cut off his ability to chase after something no woman would ever understand or allow. God’s truth, he’d even hidden his activities from his own father.
    When he’d joined Nelson’s Tea, he’d been sworn to secrecy, sworn to uphold the King’s edict. Serve when called, no matter the mission or the lives left behind. The men of Nelson’s Tea gave up the duties of first son in order to weave their way into the underbelly of the nation’s resistance so that Nelson’s war would be successful at home and abroad. No one, they’d been told, would suspect first sons of accomplishing such feats. No one would get in their way.
    Percy had answered every call Nelson had ever made and he’d done so without question, until his sister’s untimely death — until now.
    â€œHenry,” Constance whimpered.
    The fact that she called for Henry disturbed him. Had she been seduced by Henry Guffald aboard the Octavia , promised something Henry could not give? He gazed upon the fingers of her left hand. She wore no ring. The knowledge that she was unattached pleased him, howbeit oddly.
    â€œLieutenant,” she murmured, shaking.
    Percy