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today.”
    Brownie scowled but moved toward the ship with the rest of them. An instant later, a shot found its mark and hit the young sailor in the shoulder. The lad grunted in pain then fired both of his pistols angrily as Boggs kept him from falling. Next to him, Phillip heard Isabella’s gasp at the sight.
    “Let me go, old man,” Brownie growled.
    Boggs said something that likely would have curled his mother’s toes. Phillip practically pulled Isabella up the gangway and ordered two of his men standing guard at the rail to answer any fire from the beach. Boggs and another man dragged the young sailor aboard, in spite of Brownie’s insistence that he was fine. Once aboard Phillip and Isabella collapsed on the deck in a heap, panting and shaking from exertion. Phillip watched his crew haul in the gangway and hoist the sails. A bullet hit the hull of the
Intrepid
, just above Isabella’s head, and Phillip lost his patience.
    “Fire the blasted cannons!” he yelled as he rose to his feet. “And this time try to hit something!”
    The ship fired several cannon shots in succession, which seemed to silence their assailants. Satisfied, Phillip steadied his voice. “Kolton. Set sail for the point. Boggs, get Brownie to the doctor. And someone fetch Mrs. Marshall’s brat.”
    The crew scurried to their posts, leaving him alone in a crowd of people—except for the young woman, who was still gasping for air. “I told you we’d make it, sweetheart,” he said, hauling her to her feet and feeling a bit smug for saving her life. No doubt she was impressed with him too. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
    She looked at him as though he might be cracked. “Maybe not for you, but I find having people shoot at me while being pulled along by a drunken sailor rather distressing.”
    “This drunken sailor saved your miserable hide,” Phillip spat back at her, completely outraged.
    “Only because my miserable hide happens to be chained to yours,” she shot back.
    “Whose fault is that?” he roared.
    He knew he’d won the argument when she
humphed
in disgust and stuck her nose in the air. Phillip rolled his eyes. At least he’d stopped her haranguing. They waited in uncomfortable silence, watching the crew bustle around them in a flurry of activity.
    It wasn’t long before a sailor came on deck with a wiggling Charles under his arm. “Found him in a cupboard in the galley, Cap.” The man grinned, setting the boy on his feet but holding him by the collar. “Quick little sprite, he is.”
    Phillip turned to the woman next to him and stated bluntly, “If this scrap has lost the key, you’re both going overboard.” Without awaiting her response, Phillip looked sternly down at the boy. “Scrap, the key.”
    The boy looked to Bella, who nodded. He reached into his pocket and produced the key. He handed it over to Phillip, who snatched it from the boy’s palm. Grateful to finally gain his freedom, Phillip unlocked his wrist. He looked at Mrs. Marshall and actually considered clapping her in irons and tossing her in the brig overnight as punishment for everything he’d endured at her hand. Seeming to sense his intent, she looked up at him with her huge doe eyes. She completed the vulnerable act by biting her lower lip. Phillip had no doubt she’d practiced this look, yet he grudgingly admitted it was very effective.
    That didn’t mean she was off the hook, however.
    Unlocking her manacle, he handed them to the sailor with instructions to take Charles to the quartermaster. Isabella began to protest but Phillip cut her off. “The boy will be fine with Kolton,” he insisted. “You and I need to sort a few things out if you’re to stay on this ship.”
    She started arguing, of course, so Phillip did the only thing he could think to do. He scooped her up mid-protest and strode off toward his cabin, keenly aware that dozens of eyes were watching them.
    “You can’t just pick me up and carry me off!” she