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the direct look she pinned on him penetrating. “Then Carrion came. ’Twas like with Jacob all over. Only worse. He took her. He took Sarah from me.”
    She stood, knocking back the chair. “We have to go now! We have to find him.” She choked on a sob.
    He stood, too, rounded the table, and grabbed her arms. “We will, lass. We will.”
    “Now!” She gripped his forearms, her eyes crazed. “He cannot get away with this. He cannot!”
    “Calm down, Graciela.”
    “Please! I must find him!”
    He gathered her into his arms. She clutched him, her arms barely reaching around his girth. Her shallow, panicked pants gave way to wracking sobs. Cutler held the wee lass a bit tighter, surprising himself with how much he didn’t want her to cry. “Hush now, sweet,” he whispered. Cutler rubbed her back, hoping to soothe away her tremors with the sway of the rocking ship. “Shh. I’ll get Sarah back.”
    Graciela must be terrified for Sarah. To not know how her sister fared, to allow her mind to tread through images of the agonizing mistreatment Sarah faced. Carrion was a wretched, grisly bastard known for torturous tendencies. Graciela had much to fear.
    Her breathing evened and she leaned back, staring at him with red-rimmed, tired eyes. The lines on her face smoothed, a sad smile tinkered at her lips. “Thank you. For...everything.”
    Cutler nodded. “Certainly.”
    She stretched up and planted a delicate, rum-dusted kiss to his mouth. He pressed her for more, making the kiss last a heartbeat longer.
    “’Twas a disastrous start to the evening.”
    “Aye,” he agreed, though not entirely. He learned much about her. And more importantly, he sampled her flesh, savored her mouth.
    “I don’t suppose I fulfilled my end of the bargain,” she said sheepishly.
    “No, lass. You did not. You only managed to hoist my—”
    “Capt’n!” Kipp hollered from the companionway. “We need ya topside. Squall’s throwin’ us off course.”
    Cutler sighed. He wanted more time with the bonny girl, even if not between the sheets—yet.
    “Meet you on deck, Mister Kipp.”
    He let Graciela step out of his embrace. “We will postpone our,” he smirked, scooping up her stays from the floor, “business, Miss DuBois.”
    Graciela’s gaze hit the floor before rising to meet his. “Yes, Captain.”
    He opened her cabin door, strode inside, and removed her rum bottle. “When we do, you will be proper and sober.” He stifled a chuckle at her indignant shock and locked her inside.
    Topside, the squall howled and the sea gnashed. The noise roared so, Cutler could hardly hear the booms of thunder as lightning split the sky. His long hair fallen from the ribbon at his nape lashed across his face stinging with the wind-driven rain. Frothy waves slapped at Rissa’s decks.
    “She’s angry.” Willie, the helmsman shouted. Water dripped from his wayward sandy blond hair into his pale eyes and off his crooked nose. “Suppose it’s the girl?”
    Willie, too? Superstitious cove. Cutler shook his head. “Nay.”
    “Pushin’ us hard west.”
    Cutler glanced up at the furled sails wrapped tightly around the yardarms. “How far are we from the coastal reefs?”
    “Reckon a few miles”
    Too close. Cutler grabbed a fo’c’sle hand scuttling by. “Bring me a rope,” he ordered. The lad nodded and hurried away.
    “Maintain a northwest heading. We’ll tie the wheel, but only if necessary.”
    Willie was far more confident than he about Rissa holding fair in the storm. Verily, ’twas Willie who convinced Cutler the ship was worth any risk to seize. Said the ship had the heart, soul, and grit of their likes. Cutler couldn’t claim such things about ships. But he knew there was no better helmsman than Willie, and Rissa thus far had sailed remarkably well. If Willie believed Rissa would be profitable, so shall Cutler.
    The deck hand returned with the rope and Cutler prepared the knots should Willie need them. “Make the sea work