Vane drew his musket and aimed it at her heart. “Move your feet, wench, else I’ll put a ball of lead in your belly,” he said, his face bearing the grin of the devil. “’Tis a slow death, being shot in the gut. Painful as well.”

Clenching her arms tighter, she inched forward to the sound of Claude Dubois’s snigger. She leered at the Frenchman. “How’s the gap in the front of your smile feeling? I never kent Sir Kennan was so efficient with a pair of tongs.”

“Tais-toi!” Dubois swung a slap through the bars, but she was faster, ducking away from his reach. “Your arrogant beau is not long for this world. And I’ll have the last laugh whilst I watch his woman being sold to a malicious master.”

Divana opened her mouth to issue a retort, but Finnes reached in with the speed of an asp and gripped her chin. Hard. He forced her head from side to side. “She’s marked. They won’t pay a premium for that.”

Vane tugged the bow from her hair, making it fall about her shoulders. “They will when they see her red tresses. How often do you find hair as lustrous as burnished copper. Just look at how it glistens in the sun.”

“Hmm.” Finnes released his grip. “The hair will help, but ’tis too short. I’ll give you sixty pounds.”

“Sixty?” Vane asked incredulously. “She’s worth twice that.”

“On the block, mayhap, but what about my profits? And I’m the one who has to feed the wench.”

Divana skittered against the wall, jamming her fists into her hips. “Stop talking as if I’m nay here.”

“Your life isn’t yours,” growled Dubois. “And ’twill never again be.”

Vane smirked and shoved Captain Finnes in the arm. “Come, let us discuss the terms over a tankard of ale.”

Shuddering, she watched them walk away. Dubois lasciviously flicked his tongue at her before he followed.

“It appears as if you’ll be leaving this fine establishment soon,” said Petey, laughing at himself. “At least ye’ll be off my ’ands. I only regret I won’t be there to watch when they sell ye into bondage. Ye won’t be so ’igh and mighty then, will ye?”

Divana spat on the ground—wishing she was unmannerly enough to spit in his face. She absolutely could not leave Jackson’s Hell with Captain Finnes. If she smacked Petey with a rock, she might escape her cage, but then where would she go?

“When is your next adventure?” she asked, trying to sound civil. The more she knew about Vane’s plans, the better.

“Why would ye care?”

“Why did ye become a pirate?” she countered.

“Ye ask too many questions.”

“Och, Vane and his pirates have stolen a king’s ransom. Why continue to plunder?”