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clad in the barest of garments. Knee-length trousers were tattered and hung from his hips by only a prayer, it seemed. He wore a scarf around his head and a huge gold hoop dangled from one earlobe. Other than that, there was an overabundance of tanned, bare flesh.
    Truly, pirates seemed to have no modesty whatsoever. Nor much compunction in leering at helpless female captives. The pirate she’d noticed had paused and was staring at her with unconcealed interest. Nothing in her life’s experience had prepared her for this sort of predicament. She, who had been cosseted and protected her entire life, doted on by loving parents and taught the proper things to say in any social situation, struggled with the knowledge that she was far out of her element this time.
    Angela swallowed another surge of fear, well aware of Emily’s precarious balance on the edge of hysteria, and held her tongue. What in God’s name did one say to a pirate anyway?
    “ ’Ello, luv,” the swarthy, half-clad pirate said with a laugh, obviously at no loss of words himself. “Ye don’t look like ye’re havin’ much fun.”
    Angela ignored him with a mixture of utter disdain and blinding fear. He persisted, however, stepping even closer, his bare feet nudging the hem of her bombazine day dress.
    “W’at? Too good ta talk ta an ole sea-dog, luv? Mebbe ye’ll be glad of a chance fer polite conversation afore th’ day is over with.”
    Angela looked up at last, schooling her trembling voice as close to contempt as she could. “I doubt very seriously that you could ever manage anything remotely near polite, much less intelligent conversation. Go back to your rampant looting and leave us alone.”
    Anger creased the pirate’s brow, and he stepped so close his bare foot trod on the material bunched around her thighs. He crouched down and put out a grimy hand to touch her cheek.
    Unable to help herself, Angela flinched away from his hand. “Don’t touch me!”
    He laughed, revealing a gap where two front teeth had been, and his breath was foul as he leaned even closer. Horrified, Angela realized he meant to kiss her, and she pressed her spine into the unyielding wood of the mast. She could hear Emily whimpering beside her. Closing her eyes to blot out the sight of the pirate, Angela steeled herself for the inevitable.
    Then she heard a curious thump and grunt, and felt a whisper of wind as the pirate’s hand left her face. After a tense moment of silence, she cautiously opened her eyes.
    Instead of the scruffy pirate, she saw a pair of obviously expensive black leather knee-high boots with scuffed toes. She lifted her gaze. Captain Saber stood there instead of the other man, and a swift glance revealed the other pirate sprawled out on the deck. He was groaning and holding his head.
    “Get back to work instead of wasting valuable time, Reed,” the captain said coldly, and swept Angela a stony stare before turning away.
    Instead of feeling gratitude, she felt a spurt of anger that the captain would view her near-assault as a waste of valuable time. Her mouth tightened, and fear melded into irrational fury. How dare he treat her with such callous disregard!
    She opened her mouth to fling a nasty comment at Saber when she felt Emily’s faint nudge against her leg.
    “Miss Angela—what do you think they’ll do to us?”
    Emily’s quivering question brought an instant return of sanity. Angela’s anger subsided into caution. She shook her head. “I don’t know, Emily. I pray that they allow us to remain aboard the ship unmolested.”
    It was a faint hope and both knew it. Pirates were not usually known for their generosity toward female captives. And Captain Saber was said to be one of the worst. She couldn’t suppress a sudden shiver, and Emily again whimpered softly.
    “It will be all right,” Angela whispered with little conviction; Emily nodded. They fell silent, watching as the pirates swarmed across the deck.
    Seamen from the Scrutiny