““As she hurried on deck, her mind was awhirl. All that time that Mr. Grayson had been touching her, teasing her…she’d been consorting with a pirate. If he had the slightest inkling that she carried hundreds of pounds beneath her stays, he’d surely stop at nothing to get it. And yet, she could not bid caution to overtake the gothic thrill. For Heaven’s sake, a pirate. She could be in danger, she admonished herself. She could be plundered. The possibility really ought to have frightened her more than it did. Perhaps she could not escape the man, but she had to tamp down this response he incited in her. There was only one thing for it. She would go to her cabin and sketch. Something simple, innocent. Rosebuds, apples, blocks of wood. Anything but him.””
