Fury stood in the oil-lit companionway, her hand raised, ready to knock on Flint's cabin door. Susan's shocked words from last night popped into her head but she took a deep breath, willing everything Susan had said away. As if Fury was somehow responsible for Flint's currently raging insanity. And now their hopes of getting off this boat were nonexistent. When she was in such a strong bargaining position, with options, she should have made a career of this. And being gracious too. Certainly enough to pretend to think the offer over anyway, something she'd never been good at. Thinking offers from Flint over that was and being gracious about him either.
She knocked on the door. Oh yes, she had this.
"Come in."
She smoothed the fabric of her corded cream day dress, which Susan had scrubbed the stains off last night.
The red silk would be too clear a signal of her compliance. She wasn't compliant. Her blood boiled worse than the fires of hell. She just wasn't about to show it.