“I’ve had enough of your threats; now I have one of my own to give.”

Malcolm stared in rapt attention as Ashton’s words thudded into him like fists pounding against his chest. Or was it his heart that thumped so hard against the inner cavity?

“I’m going to start counting,” Ashton informed him, “and if you don’t kill me before I reach three, you won’t get another chance.” He stretched out his free hand and pushed Lenore gently away, ignoring her frantic pleas for them both to be reasonable. “One…” His eyes glittered as he felt the pistol shake against his throat. “Two…”

The weapon was jerked away with an angry curse, and Malcolm ground his teeth as he met the mockery in those hazel eyes. As he stepped back, Ashton slid his own pistol beneath his coat and, in its stead, pulled out a long cheroot, which he leisurely puffed alight.

“I suggest you take care with your threats from now on, Malcolm,” he said. “Someone might take offense and blow your fool head off.”

Malcolm did not appreciate the advice. “We’ll see what comes of all this, Mister Wingate.” Taking Lenore’s arm, he marched her along the deck, putting Ashton far behind him in a short amount of time.

Ashton followed at a slower pace, wishing he had Lierin’s approval to dismiss Malcolm from her life. Until he had it, he could do nauht but watch them from afar, and it was no easy or pleasant task.

Malcolm paused outside the gaming room to adjust his clothing and glared at his wife as he smoothed the lapels of his coat.

“Your cravat is gone,” she reminded him calmly and asked offhandedly, “Did Marelda enjoy her view of the ceiling? Or could she see much in that short a time? Indeed, you must have just completed the swiftest seduction ever performed.”

“Youuuu!” Malcolm growled. “Right when…” He searched about for the proper words and found none he could tell his wife. “Then it struck me, and all I could see was you…with him…having your fun with him!”

“Marelda was probably disappointed that you couldn’t finish what you had started.” Lenore lifted a brow to a lofty height as he pushed his face close and gnashed his teeth at her. “I’m truly sorry, Malcolm, that I disturbed your moment of conquest. If I see the matter correctly, you were only thwarted by your reluctance to have me do the same thing you were doing, and I find that rather amusing.”

His hand caught her arm again, none too gently, and gritting out a smile, he entered the ballroom and swept her into a waltz. They moved with stilted motion, each annoyed with the other, each angry, and each aware of the attention they had gained. It vexed Malcolm that the dance lacked the fluid grace of another he had been witness to, and that was the one when the Wingate man had led her in a swirling motion around the pavilion. Absent, too, were the appreciative comments made by the guests.

“Have I told you how divine you look this evening, madam?” he asked, trying to break the ice that encased her and held her reserved from him. “You’re the most beautiful woman here.”

Lenore caught a glimpse of Marelda coming into the room, and by the woman’s reddened countenance and the glare she tossed at Malcolm, Lenore decided the woman was none too pleased. “Marelda is back,” she informed him coolly. “And she’s looking slightly enraged. Don’t you want to go to her and make your amends?”

“She doesn’t matter to me,” he scoffed. “She’s only someone to relieve myself with until you yield to me.”

Lenore stared at him in amazement. “How can you even think of me yielding myself when you act like a rutting tomcat? And certainly not after you’ve been with Marelda.”

“Are you jealous?” He smiled, amused by the idea.

“Fear would better explain my reasons to avoid going to bed with you, Malcolm. I might catch something I don’t want.”

Malcolm’s ego was seriously deflated. “You’re a cold woman, Lenore Sinclair.”

She averted her face, remembering a time when she had played chase with Ashton through the master suite at Belle Chêne. Giggling and dropping pieces of her clothing in his path, she had fled before him, and it had seemed at the time that he had purposely delayed catching her until the last garment had followed the descent of the others; then with a long arm he had reached out and brought her close to him. There in his embrace she had teased him with a wanton kiss, then had pulled away and danced against him in a manner that Salome had never dreamed of. Was she truly cold? Or just particular about the man she was with?

She stiffened as Malcolm’s arm tightened about her narrow waist and brought her closer to him. He bent to drop a light kiss on the pale shoulder, now aware that Ashton had entered the room. He knew the other closely observed them, and his spirits soared as he thought how he could torment the man. His warm breath sighed close to her ear. “If your Mr. Wingate insists upon sniffing after you, my dear, then I think I should make him suffer.”

“What do you mean?” Worry was evident in the lovely visage as Lenore lifted her gaze to him again.

Malcolm loosened his embrace, allowing her to move back a step. His expression was almost cocky as he led her around the floor. “It’s obvious the scum wants to get into you, but since you belong to me, I shall remind him of that fact.” His fingers dallied at the small of her back, and he gave her a warning glare when she turned a bit rigid. “Be careful, my love. If you do not allow me this moment, I’ll make you pay dearly.”

“Pay?” She repeated the word with growing trepidation. “What is it that you’re trying to do?”

He tilted his head in Ashton’s direction. “I want that buffoon to realize finally just whose wife you are, and I’m going to make him rue the day he contrived this little gambit. While we’re here aboard the River Witch, you will allow me to touch you as much as I want to.”

“Do I detect a threat in your plan?” she asked with rampant sarcasm.

Malcolm seemed as smug as a pampered cat as he replied, “You have kept me from your bed for some time now, madam, but I am growing impatient. The idea of separate bedrooms is becoming intolerable, and I think the time will soon come when I must reaffirm our married status…just in case you’ve forgotten how it was between us.” His eyes dropped to devour the fullness above her gown. “Thus far I’ve been concerned for your welfare, but you seem fit enough to bear his attentions. So, why not mine? I am your husband.”

Ashton’s jaw tightened as he watched the lustful perusal sweeping the swelling bosom, and as the cabin boy passed with a tray, he reached for a liberally filled glass of brandy. He hated those probing gazes that were wont to linger there upon her breasts. He disliked the mouth that kissed her smooth skin and the hands that pressed her narrow waist. Perhaps he had made a mistake in creating interest among his friends for this occasion. At the moment it appeared that Malcolm was the only one enjoying the event.

Lenore stared up at Malcolm, aghast at what he proposed. “Are you saying that I must allow you to maul me in front of all these people?”

A corner of the large mouth drew up in a subtle sneer. “I don’t care about the others, my dear. My only concern is that fool who persists in calling you Lierin.”

Lenore nodded slowly in displeasure, beginning to understand his ploy. It was not passion for her that prompted him to be amorous as much as hatred and jealousy of the other man. “And if I don’t cooperate, you will force your attentions on me anyway.”

Malcolm shrugged indolently. “While you’ve kept to your chaste bed and denied me my husbandly rights, I’ve had to appease myself with harlots, but I’m getting tired of those bawdy butts twisting beneath me.” He stared intently into the wide emerald eyes. “I crave fresher game to sport with.”

“So either way I’m caught.” She assessed her situation drearily.

“Choose which is worse, madam.”

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

His eyes flared with the insult of her light gibe; then he chuckled sneeringly. “You think he can pleasure you more than I can?” He flung up his head and snorted contemptuously. “You don’t know very much about men if you believe that.”

“I’ve forgotten a lot, that’s true.” Her tone was bland. “But I’m relearning swiftly, and I’m beginning to think that I was in a state of distress when I married you, or else I saw something in you that just wasn’t there.”

There was a stir in the room, and everyone turned as Sheriff Coty came through the doors, holding a struggling Horace Titch by the scruff of the neck. Everyone gaped and gathered around as the lawman halted beside Ashton.

“Here’s one of your thieves, Mr. Wingate. I caught him red-handed, trying to sneak away with the rest of the pirates, but we caught some of ’em…and this one.” He shook Horace as a dog shakes a rat, much to the outrage of that one.

“You fool!” Horace twisted around on the tips of his toes, which were the only part of his body that could reach the floor and allow him some leverage to resist this humiliating seizure by the lawman. “I tell you I was being robbed myself! And they made me go with them!”

“Certainly, Mr. Titch, and you just happened to have these jewels in your pocket.” Sheriff Coty dipped a hand into his own pocket and pulled out a diamond pendant. “We found some of the guests locked in one of the forward cabins, and they had been robbed. They went out for a stroll on the deck, and that is when his men”-he nodded toward Horace-“caught them unawares and took what they had. It would have been only a matter of time before they came in here.”

“But I was out on the deck,” Lenore commented, clutching a hand to her throat.

“Then you were lucky, ma’am,” Sheriff Coty observed politely. “Someone musta been watchin’ over you.”