The Jezebel (Taskill Witches 3)

They were saying things about her and making Roderick doubt her. How much had they said? She’d made a mistake helping Adam, had been incautious and aroused their suspicions. Uncertainty twisted in her gut, and that familiar feeling taunted her—fear for her life, for her kin, for those she cared for. Even though she’d been protected for so long, Cyrus had kept that fear alive in her mind and heart, reminding her how well he watched over her. And when she felt the crew gathering against her, whispering their doubts and concerns to each other, it took her right back to the moment her mother had been tugged away, leaving her and her siblings to watch as she was tortured and persecuted.

Maisie sensed the men approaching the captain’s quarters before she heard them, and she knew they were coming for her. Rebellion and anger built in response. She sat on the edge of the bed she’d shared with Roderick, clutching her arms around herself while she attempted to push the dark emotions away. They would only make her hotheaded and careless, and she couldn’t afford to say or do the wrong thing.

There was a loud banging on the door.

It

sprang open before she had a chance to answer.

She rose to her feet.

Brady, the first officer, and two other men stepped into the captain’s quarters, crowding the space with their bodies and their obvious animosity toward her.

“You will come with us.” It was not a request.

They all lowered their eyelids in her presence, avoiding her gaze.

Maisie’s blood quickened. “What is it? Why have you come for me?”

“Mistress, if you please, the captain and the crew are gathered and we need you to come above deck.”

Being led out this way was not good, but she rose to her feet, and when they stepped back to clear the path to the door, she went through it.

Up on the deck, the entire crew had gathered. A tense conversation was ongoing. Roderick was at the center of the group. When he caught sight of her, he fell silent.

The look in his eyes affected her more than she imagined it could. He had listened to the men, yet what she saw in his expression was reassurance. He cared most of all what she thought. Roderick. How she ached for him. How she ached to undo the trouble she’d brought to his ship.

“Seize her, Captain.” The man’s voice jolted through her.

Another shouted, “Aye.” The look in their eyes was horribly familiar, taking her back to the moment her mother had been accused.

Maisie clutched at the railing by her side and fought for breath. The pitch and toss of the ship barely reached her, and though her senses registered the whip of the wind and the salt in the air, signaling rough seas, she could not address it or counter it as she had done on the previous day. It was as if her feet had been nailed to the boards. Unwilling to move, she stared across at Roderick.

His gaze flitted from her to the men and back again. “I’m informed that you may have been performing some form of—” he paused, his scowl deepening “—witchcraft, while you have been aboard the Libertas.”

“There is no might about it,” a man shouted above the whistle of the wind. “I saw her with my own eyes. She cured the lad by some strange power, using words that the witches use. When Clyde questioned her about it, she tried to sweeten us, but we know what we saw. She has powers. You cannot trust her, Captain. She will bring bad fortune, mark my words.”

Roderick did not take his eyes from her while he listened to his men, each adding their own comments. It sent turmoil through her, yet he looked calm and in control. “Is it true? Did you save the lad by means of magic?”

Why did he ask her that? Desperate for his understanding, and frustrated by the scowls and jeers surrounding her, she fisted her hands and struggled against the hold the men had on her.

“Stand your ground, my lady,” Roderick stated, “and answer me.” He strode closer, until he was between her and the crowd.

“I have hidden nothing from you.” It was the best she could muster, for fear and anger roiled in her. Panic set in. He claimed to care for her, and yet he was as bad as the rest of them—eager to turn her away now that the truth was out. How could she have let herself trust him? Worse still, care for him?

Roderick shook his head.

Maisie tore her gaze away, her heart sinking.

Yes, she had hidden things from him; they both knew that. It was only for his own protection. The less he knew of her troubled history the safer he was. He and his men. Although now it looked as if they didn’t share the same concerns for her. How foolish she had been, assisting them in their work aboard ship and healing the lad.

“Cast her out, tie her up and throw her overboard!” one of the men cried, and hurled a rope toward her.

Maisie froze. The line landed close to her feet.

Roderick’s face turned thunderous. For a moment she thought he would do as the man had suggested, but instead he turned on him. “We are not witch hunters, nor do I wish to be one.”

Roderick’s eyes blazed, his rugged face made even fiercer in its masculinity by his mood. Her heart leaped in her chest at the sight of his torment.