“My . . . who?” “Your pirate paramour,” he says. “The one you made that bargain with. She showed up with a group of very brawny gentlemen who had no qualms about leaving their shirt sleeves unfastened—” “Careful,” Percy says, but Monty butts his forehead against Percy’s shoulder. “Please. You were looking too.” “I wasn’t.” “How could you not? It was like some very lascivious god sculpted them all with a very generous hand—” “Monty, focus,” I snap. “Ah, right, yes, your pirate girl.
