Chapter 2

I went upstairs because Reid had put words in my mouth. If he wanted every man on that boat to believe I had agreed, he was going to tell the lie with me standing right there.

I left the sapphires in the cabin. I kept on the boots and clothes I had arrived in.

The upper deck was already full.

Men who had eaten Sunday dinner at my table for eleven years stood near the bar with guns hidden beneath their jackets. The weight beneath the wool was easy to recognize after fourteen years.

Their wives watched me come up the steps.

Nobody looked surprised.

The affair hurt. Their silence made it worse. Every familiar face told me I had been the last person invited into the truth of my own marriage.

Cyrus Duvall stood near the ship's bell with four of his men around him. His wife wasn't at his side. Wren never missed a family gathering. Tonight, I knew exactly why she had.

Otis stepped away from the crowd by the railing. In February, Otis had stood on my fitting block while I adjusted his left shoulder so the gun beneath it would lie flat. He had talked about loyalty for forty minutes.

He had already known.

He set his whiskey glass on a cocktail table and clapped his palm against my shoulder.

"Good to see you standing straight, Corinne," Otis muttered, rolling his unlit cigar to the other corner of his mouth. "Reid told the table you were on board with the boy. Takes a real woman to put the family first."

"How long have you known, Otis?" I asked quietly.

His hand went still on my shoulder.

"Since Christmas."

I stepped out from under it.

Reid hadn't hidden it from his men. He had only hidden it from me.

Across the deck, the forward doors parted.

Sabine walked out in an emerald satin gown, the fabric pulling tight over her belly with every step.

Reid walked half a pace behind her, his large, flat palm resting against the small of her back.

He guided her toward the low wooden platform near the ship's bell.

Sabine set her beaded purse on the chair at Reid's right—the place I had occupied at every family dinner for eleven years. She looked straight at me while she did it.

Reid took a glass from a passing tray and tapped the side with a silver pen.

Ting. Ting.

Reid didn't raise his voice. Even the men by the stern railing stopped talking to listen.

"Fourteen years ago, Corinne stood beside me when I had one crew and two blocks of waterfront," Reid said. "Tonight, we look toward the next generation. Sabine Duvall is carrying the boy who will run these docks after me."

Cyrus raised his glass first.

"To my nephew."

The captains followed him.

Reid's dark eyes moved through the crowd until they locked onto mine.

"And to my wife, Corinne," Reid said. "Who welcomes my son into our home with the grace of a true Varden. To the family."

A steward stepped up and handed me a glass of cabernet.

Reid walked down from the platform until he was standing right in front of me.

"Drink, Corinne," he said under his breath. "Seal it."

Reid watched my hand. He expected obedience because everyone else did.

I poured the wine into the deck drain.

Sabine's hand settled beneath her belly.

"The baby hasn't done anything to you, Corinne."

I looked at her. "Neither had I."

Cyrus set down his glass and started toward me.

Reid raised two fingers without turning.

Cyrus stopped, but his eyes stayed on mine.

I set the empty glass on the cocktail table. Then I pulled the platinum band over my knuckle and laid it beside the rim.

"You told them I agreed because you knew you'd never have the balls to ask me."

Otis lowered his eyes.

The hand that had held Sabine's water glass closed around my wrist before I could step away.

"You can hate me in private," he said. "Up here, you are still my wife."

"Put it back on."

"Nobody leaves this deck until you're wearing it."

One of the wives lifted a hand as if she meant to come to me. Her husband caught her elbow. She lowered her hand and wrapped both palms around her champagne flute.

No one moved to help me.

I had fitted their daughters for prom and sat beside their wives in hospital waiting rooms. Under Reid's stare, every kindness I had given them became something they were willing to forget.

I left the ring where it was.

Before Reid could speak again, the wheelhouse door opened.

Kellan shoved past two captains and whispered into his ear.

Reid released my wrist.

The fingers around the stem of his wineglass tightened.

The stem snapped.

Blood ran between his fingers and mixed with the wine.

He set the broken glass on the table. Then his bleeding fingers closed around my ring.

"Where is Wren?" he asked.