The lout jangled a ring of skeleton keys with a hateful grin. “The captain’s nay worried about ye escapin’. ’Tis others sneakin’ in ’e doesn’t want.”

Bearing down with all her might, she shook the cage again. Drat it, the rusty heap was sound enough. Groaning, Divana paced—all of three steps. Her prison was even smaller than the bothy on Hyskeir, with a dirt floor and not a thing to sit upon.

Why hadn’t she just told Kennan to leave her on Hyskeir? No, it hadn’t been a happy life, but at least she’d been free.

Sliding downward, she sat on the ground, crossing her legs and burying her face in her hands. She silently cried and rocked herself, unwilling to give Petey the satisfaction of knowing the despair clawing at her heart.

And when her tears subsided and her vision cleared, she stared down at a stone—a weighty one nearly as large as her fist.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

We’re following that bloody carrack because you have a feeling?” asked Lachie Mor, his voice shooting up.

After the Lady Heather came through the storm, Kennan had spotted the ship on the western horizon—and it appeared to have sailed off course by leagues. But there was something about it he couldn’t put his finger on—a feeling he’d never be able to explain to either one of his officers.

“Aye, and if we hadn’t trusted my gut when we were sailing off Hispaniola, we wouldn’t have plundered the silver.”

The quartermaster gave the wheel a slight turn. “Oh, to have our reward end up in Vane’s sticky web.”

Kennan peered through his spyglass. The ship was not only sitting low in the water, she flew no colors. “She’s tacking north.”

“That would be right. Heading north to marry up with the trade route to the Americas, I’d reckon.”

“Mayhap you’re right.” Kennan’s gut clenched. He’d swear on his life that ship was up to no good. And if his intuition was worth a farthing, that vessel wasn’t lost. The heavy-built carrack waited out the storm, and once it passed, she unfurled her sails as if she knew exactly where she was heading, and it wasn’t in the direction of the trade routes. “Follow her northward until I give the signal to turn east. I don’t want them thinking we’re on their tail.”

“The signal? From where?” asked Lachie Mor.

Kennan pointed up to the crow’s nest. “Your bellyaching has given me enough cause to go up for a better view.”

“Runner can tell you what he sees. He has the youngest eyes, after all.”

“Perhaps.” Kennan tucked his spyglass into his belt. “But my eyes have the better experience. Not to mention I’m nay about to lose another ship and crew.”

Lachie Mor knew the perils as well as Kennan. They were sailing uncharted waters—seas infested by privateers and pirates. Aye, he’d sailed under the same guise as well, but he’d never ventured outside the shipping lanes this far north of Hispaniola.

The crew on deck heckled him with a few choice phrases.