At the name of the hellion pirate, all eyes shifted. No one wanted to confront Vane. Kennan lowered his hands, affecting a scowl every bit as menacing as that of the man they feared. His fingers twitched over the hilt of his sword while he strode straight ahead, pushing his way out of the circle. The slight breeze rushed in his ears as he listened for movement—listened for one of them to act the hero. When an attack didn’t come, he’d almost wished it had. Dear God, how he wanted to throttle the lot of them.

Once out of danger, Kennan hastened back to Jack’s Mercantile. Of course, the shopkeeper hadn’t seen Divana, either. A hollow cavern stretched in his chest as time marched on.

How in God’s name did she disappear? She was never out of my sight. At least not more than a minute or two.

Kennan ran to the shore, where he found Mr. MacNeil standing over Runner on the beach. Sitting in the sand, the lad had tears streaming down his face. “We were walking side by side when all of a sudden he took off. I chased him. I called him over and over, but he was too fast for me—”

“The dog?” Kennan asked, but didn’t wait for a response. “We’ve far worse problems than that. Davy’s been kidnapped.”

“God, no,” said MacNeil.

“Right under my nose. I reckon everyone in this town is Vane’s man, ’cause no one kent what happened in broad daylight, mind you.”

“No one here kens anything.” MacNeil kicked the sand. “They’re all scared, if you ask me. Moreover, they certainly aren’t living in luxury.”

Runner wiped his eyes. “Mayhap Bannock is with Divana.”

Did she see the dog and run after him? If only it were so—but Kennan hadn’t spotted Bannock anywhere near the market. Stroking his chin, he looked to the horizon. “’Tis nearly dusk.”

“We have to find her…er…him,” said MacNeil. “If they find out that he’s really a—”

“There’s no need to say it,” Kennan growled.

Lachie Mor came tottering up the beach with a band of sailors in his wake.

MacNeil beckoned them. “So much for nursing an ale.”

Kennan shook his head and scoffed. What a ragged lot he’d pulled together. “You all had best be sober.”

“What news?” Lachie asked, his expression growing wary.

Kennan quickly explained about Divana’s disappearance. “He can’t have gone far. I want men armed to the nines, watching the harbor, searching every skiff that leaves this beach.”

“Search? By whose authority?” asked a sailor.

“On order of Queen Anne of Great Britain.” Tossing out the queen’s name might hold water long enough for someone to make a quick inspection of a wee boat.

“And keep an eye out for Bannock,” added Runner. “He’s gone missing as well.”

Standing wide, Kennan thrust his fists into his hips. “We’ll fan out—north, south, and central. Check every room in every tavern and brothel. Mr. MacNeil, post the remainder of the crew on the gun deck and keep lights burning in the portals whilst they’re manning the cannons. If they want a bloody war, I’ll be happy to oblige.”