Lachie Mor would most likely throw her overboard. And the boatswain, Mr. MacNeil, had a knife scar that ran from his forehead to his chin. A lass only needed to look at that man to know he was surly. Who knew what he was capable of? If only Kennan would visit the hold, she’d be brave enough to show herself then. After all, he was the reason she was in this predicament. As the captain of the ship, he had to make an inspection sooner or later. Right?

Long after the light faded, Divana removed her slippers and used her toes to feel her way, carefully walking across the tops of the barrels, crouching and bending her knees in tandem with the rocking of the ship. Halfway, she stopped and glanced back into the darkness while her stomach growled and clawed with hunger. No, she mustn’t go back now, lest she have no strength whatsoever come morn. She counted twenty barrels to where the ladder ought to be, but as she reached forward her hands felt nothing.

It has to be here.

Dropping to her hands and knees, she stretched as far as she could until her fingers brushed a wooden post.

Praise be!

She climbed upward toward the faint light until she reached the lattice, then pushed it aft as the men had done. When it wouldn’t budge, she pushed harder.

Still nothing.

A creaking sound came from above. Divana crouched, her gaze snapping toward the direction of the noise. An unlit lantern swung from a beam, and behind it a sconce glowed with a yellow light. The ship’s sounds were different up there, and she held very still, clinging to the rung while she listened. Snores came from the distance, the slap of waves against the hull. The creak of timbers, even the flap of canvas sails, cut through the chilly night air.

Once certain she was alone, she tried moving the lattice again. This time it budged about a half inch before jamming, but not before Divana caught sight of a wooden dowel.

Curses!

She braced her feet on one rung and held on to the top with her right, stretching out with her left. Her hand barely fit through the gap. Clenching her teeth, Divana stretched, trying to close the gap. Her fingers brushed the dowel, but it was too far to gain a hold. Her neck cramped as she strained to see her target. Inching up on her toes and extending her grasp on the rung, she stretched farther until her fingers wrapped around the pin. Her entire body wobbled as she dangled with one toe on the ladder and two fingers gripping the rung.

Just a wee bit more.