Saving Grace
The Crimson Viper, 1755
Grace screamed viciously as the cold spray of seawater slapped against her cheek. Her body pitched sideways as a hard, dark shoulder knocked the breath from her lungs, hoisted her off her feet, and hauled her back from the ship’s railing.
She sucked in air that tasted of salt and stank of unwashed men. “How dare you throw my wedding dress overboard,” Grace raged, balling her hands into fists and slamming them into the muscular back of the black sailor, aptly called Strong Jonny. “I will have you hanged for this, you damnable pirate.”
Labor-roughened fingers gripped her chin, forcing her to look up from the captain’s black knee high leather boots with their gold buckles and the tight-fitting crotch of his dark brown breeches, into his face. Payne was
