She set to coiling as fast as possible, refusing to respond. This was exactly why Kennan wanted her to impersonate a lad. Disgusting brigands like Ethan were whoremongers of the worst sort.

He licked his lips. “Worry not, lass. Though I’d be the first in line to sample your wares, I’d be the last to invite the captain’s ire. All I want is your share of the spoils.”

“What makes you think there will be any plunder?” Runner had mentioned there might be, but there were no assurances, were there?

“Och, now I ken you’re a bloody female. Ye may have your sights on Lochiel’s son, but the rest of us are here for just rewards.”

“Even though there may be none?”

“If the captain doesn’t want a mutiny, there will be.”

She moved slower, pretending to ensure the rope was tidy. “Are ye saying the men are planning to turn against Sir Kennan?”

“I’m bloody saying they will if they think he’s lied to them about the likes of ye. If they catch wind of his deceit, they’ll reckon he’s lied about other things as well.” He grabbed her by the wrist and twisted. “And I’ll stir up the crew something fierce if ye spout a word of this to a goddamned soul. Moreover, I’ll make your life so miserable ye’ll wish ye had never been born.”

“Remove your hand from Davy’s wrist,” growled Lachie Mor, moving to the rail with a dirk in his fist. “Now, I say.”

Immediately snapping to attention, Ethan released his grip. “Just having a wee chat, sir.”

“You can talk all you want when you’re not on bloody duty. Now off with you.”

Before he sauntered away, Ethan gave her a pointed look. “I’m watching.”

After he’d gone, Divana secured the end of the rope into the coil and hefted it over a belaying pin. “Thank ye, sir.”

The quartermaster frowned, his bushy eyebrows drawing together. “You never should have stowed away. The sea is no place for a woman.”

She paced in a circle while she watched Lachie Mor head aft. Blast it all, if it was payment the varlet wanted, then so be it. Divana didn’t give a fig about riches. She’d been poor all her life. She’d scraped and clawed for her daily food. The dearest thing to her heart? The wee carving Kennan had made on Hyskeir. She didn’t need a purse of silver, and a cask of rum would do her no good whatsoever.

Runner signaled to her from the crow’s nest and, for the first time since she began this voyage, she was overjoyed to climb the rigging. The pox to Ethan and his threats. She might let him steal from her, but she’d never allow him to cross Kennan!