“I’m no trouble. I swear it.”

“I beg to differ. You’ve just caused me a great deal of consternation.”

“But I can help. I-I’ll do anything. I can—”

“Och, there are some things you’ll not do, mark me.” He poked his head out of the galley and looked to and fro. “Who kens you’re here?”

“No one.”

“Are you certain?”

“I’ve been hiding in a barrel in the hold since we sailed.”

“For four bloody days?”

“Has it been that long?” This conversation was going nowhere. She clutched the sea biscuits tighter. Bless it, she wasn’t about to starve—not when there was an abundance of food. “What do ye aim to do with me?”

He scowled. “I ought to bend you over my knee and give you a good hiding.”

She took a step back. “Ye wouldn’t do that.”

“I would if it were up to me. But seeing the captain has a soft spot for you, I’ve no choice but to hand you over to him and hope he sees fit to do the honors.”

A soft spot? Perhaps public humiliation might be worth the pain, especially if it was issued by the captain. Would Kennan take a switch to her backside?

“Now, I need you to step lightly, lass. I’ll take you to his cabin, but we must ensure no one sees.”

“Why?”

“’Cause if the men ken there’s a woman on board, there’ll be anarchy.”

“But there are women ashore,” she whispered.

“That’s different.”

“I fail to see why.”

“Wheesht. Keep your head down and follow me.”

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Kennan’s eyes flashed open with the rap on his cabin door.

“Captain?” Lachie Mor’s voice rumbled through the timbers. Hearing the quartermaster’s voice at this hour meant nothing good.

As he jolted up, the bedclothes slid to Kennan’s waist. “Come.”

Footsteps shuffled while Lachie led with his lamp, making it impossible to see a thing. “We’ve a stowaway.”

Kennan stood, dragging the plaid around his hips and knotting it. “A stowaway? Why the devil did you bring him up here?” It wasn’t like Lachie to awaken him in the middle of the night on account of a useless varlet.

The quartermaster stretched to hang his lamp on a ceiling hook. Only then did Kennan get a good look at the prisoner. He shook his head and blinked.

Then he swiped a hand across his eyes, just to ensure they hadn’t deceived him.

Nay. It was Divana Campbell, just as plain as ink on parchment.

And she stood with shoulders back and chin high like Zenobia facing the Romans.