Divana met his gaze, dropping her hand and squaring her shoulders. “But ye already stole it back when ye and Vane plundered the Highland Reel.”

“Not by half.”

“Ye ken he will not come for me.”

Again Vane laughed. “She does have a backbone, does she not?”

Dubois snorted, cutting her a menacing glare. “Even if she speaks true, she’ll fetch a high price.”

The blood drained from her face. “Price?”

“Shut it,” the big man growled, with another shove of his boot.

“Yes, you see, Jamaica is quite a large island. There are literally hundreds of places to hide—and by the time Cameron realizes you’re gone forever, you’ll be out of my hair and sold to Joshua Finnes. Perhaps you’ve heard tell of my comrade. He’s the shrewdest slaver on the high seas.” Vane circled his hand over his head. “Prepare to shove off as soon as the skiffs return from supplying the Mermaid.” He started away, then looked over his shoulder. “Petey—guard the prisoner. If anyone comes near, gut them.”

Divana put her back against a boulder to prevent Petey’s boot from kicking her again. He’d brought her to the southern tip of the shore and, though she heard the roar of the surf, she couldn’t see the water. An enormous fortress of rocks surrounded them, keeping her hidden from view. And the sun had just disappeared in the western sky, the light growing dimmer with her every breath.

“We’re setting sail on the Silver Mermaid?” she asked.

The pirate gave her a scowl.

But when they’d checked the registrar’s records in Nassau, none of the vessels belonged to Jackson Vane.

“Who owns her?” Divana asked, steeling herself for a strike this time.

But Petey just smirked. “That’s the amusing part. She’s captained by the illustrious Mr. Dawson.”

Though the air was as warm the heat from the hearth in Cook’s kitchen at Achnacarry, a shiver coursed down her spine while the wind whipped her hair into her face. “W-where might one find Mr. Dawson?”

“Hmm.” The man scratched his thatch of a beard. “I reckon he’s in the belly of one of them giant sharks about now—or playin’ whist with the ghost of Jonah, where you’ll be if ye don’t shut your gob.”

Divana shifted her gaze to the sand and the thong Dubois had viciously ripped from her club. Was Kennan searching for her now? Where were Vane and his pirates taking her? Where would this auction be held? When?

“Hey, Petey,” said a lanky brigand, his tongue slavering around his lips. “She’s a damned mite prettier with her hair down. What say ye? Let’s ’ave a bit o’ fun afore we sail.”

The two men ducked behind the rocks—out of sight. “The captain says ’e’s saving her.”

“For ’imself?”

“Most likely. But if anyone touches the wench it’ll be me…”

While the men talked, Divana pulled the slips of parchment from her heel. Perhaps she could find some way to leave a note. She unfolded the first slip, but it had too much writing on it already from all her practice copying out Kennan’s logbooks. And on the second… she was surprised and delighted to see that it was the one where she’d written Silver Mermaid. She could scarcely believe her luck! Now all she needed was a hiding place. Perhaps if she untied her slingshot and placed it and the note with the leather strap sticking out, Kennan or his men might find it.