“Perhaps we ought to pay the market a visit.”

She straightened, trying not to grin. “More shopping?”

“Not today. Mayhap we’ll happen upon someone Vane doesn’t own in this pirate cove.”

She didn’t let her excitement show, but for the first time in her life Divana had a few coins to spend. If only she weren’t impersonating a lad, she’d buy something feminine—ribbons or a necklace, or a bit of lace to make her look bonny for Kennan.

For a small town, plenty of people mulled about—far more men than women. And everyone looked as if they’d been in the midst of the wars. Children dressed in little more than rags darted between the tents and stalls, chasing each other and laughing.

Divana closely followed Kennan while he browsed and she stole peeks at the myriad of colorful items. Merchants shouted and dazzled them with beautiful cloth, figurines carved from dark wood in human shapes—but unlike anything she’d ever seen, depicting long faces and noses, enormous eyes, and gargantuan earlobes. Gold jewelry adorned with shiny rocks sparkled in the sun. And the rich aroma of food sizzling on open grills made her mouth water.

Kennan purchased two helpings of meat on a stick and gave one to Divana. “Are you hungry?”

She nodded, taking a bite. “Mm, ’tis spicy and sweet at the same time.”

He pulled the entire portion off with his teeth and chewed. “Do you like it?”

“Aye.”

A bit further on, he stopped to talk to a merchant about glass floats and the various vessels that came into the harbor to buy them. Beside his stall, a boy sat with a basket full of beautiful shells twice the size of a man’s fist.

Divana reached for one. “I’ve never seen colors so bright.”

“If ye clean dem wit’ salt water, da color don’t fade. But freshwater ruins dem.”

“Truly? Is that the same with all shells?”

The boy shrugged. “It works with conchs.”

She took another and held it up to the sunlight and studied it, vaguely aware that Kennan was no longer right beside her. “Is this one your finest?”

As she spoke, a hand slid over her mouth—

No!

Ice shot through every muscle in her body. It wasn’t Kennan’s hand but one smelling of dirt, the fingers coarse. Divana’s heart hammered as she shrieked into the palm, frantically thrashing, shifting her gaze from side to side.

“Shut it,” growled a man with a menacing voice as he yanked her away through the shroud of tent linens.

Struggling against his iron grip, she bit the filthy palm, flailing her fists and jabbing backward with her elbows.

A brutal hand smacked the side of her head. “Bitch!”

“Good work, Petey. Bind her wrists and gag her,” said an oily, burlap-faced scoundrel. “Quickly now. The captain’s waiting.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Frustrated as all hell, Kennan glared at the merchant standing across from him. “Why does no one ken a bloody thing about Vane’s whereabouts when he so clearly has every last one of you in his talons?”