“Shift the laces to the back. I’ll tie them,” he barked. “And hold on to the bedpost for God’s sake.”

Divana gripped the dark wooden upright, swearing she’d gouge his eyes out with her thumbs if he tried to push her to the mattress. “You’ll cinch the breath out of me.”

“Remember what I said about defiance?” he said, his voice menacing and surly. “Turn the bloody stays around now, wench.”

Gulping, Divana glanced at the man over her shoulder. If he stifled her air, she’d die quickly, and that would be far better than being sold into slavery. But instead, he made quick work of tying the laces—just loose enough to allow her to breathe. “You’ve done this before.”

He scowled. “Sisters.”

“You have a family?”

He snorted. “Believe it or not, even men like me were born of mothers—though mine was a whore in baroness’s clothing.”

So, he was highborn—or illegitimate. “Why did ye have this gown?”

“Never mind the reason. I’m just glad to be rid of it.”

By the time he finished with his ministrations, he’d raked a comb through her hair and tied it up with a red ribbon. And when she regarded her reflection in his mirror, the balcony of the brothel in Nassau came to mind. The dress stank of camphor and age, and the bodice clung so tightly to her bosom, it made her breasts swell above the scalloped neckline, adorned with garish yellow lace. Divana was no expert in fashion, but there was no way around it—the gown was cheap, old, and most likely a castoff from a lady of easy virtue.

The ship pitched to starboard so far this time, they both were hurled against the wall.

“Captain!” someone bellowed, banging on the door. “We’ll not last much longer!”

Divana looked toward the windows. The night was black as coal, and rain pelted the glass with a deafening torrent.

Vane thrust a finger beneath her nose. “If you value your life, you will stay inside this cabin. ’Tis the safest place on the Mermaid.”

As the ship listed, she latched her elbow around the bedpost and held fast while Jackson Vane headed for the storm.

Will I survive this night? God be with Kennan and the Lady Heather!

The half barrel containing the manifest Vane had rolled up toppled. Holding on with one hand, she stretched as far as possible, her fingers grazing the edge of the parchment.

Just a wee bit farther.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Heave to!” Kennan shouted as he cranked the ship’s wheel with all his strength. The Lady Heather fought him, her timbers groaning as waves crashed over the brig’s topsides.

“Are you mad?” bellowed Mr. MacNeil.

Gnashing his teeth, Kennan clutched the wheel, his arms shaking with the force of the resistance. “Sound the order, I say! Else we’ll capsize for certain.”

A bolt of lightning flashed overhead, immediately followed by a thunderous boom so loud, the sound reverberated in his bones. Kennan blinked to clear the driving rain from his eyes as the boatswain’s whistle screeched above the roar of the tempest, giving the order to shift the booms and head directly into the wind.