More silence. And then Griff’s voice. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
Lieutenant Thompson cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”
Samantha held her breath, waiting for the command.
“Now!”
The men above her exploded into action, and shouts came from both decks. Muffled thumps confirmed her crew had begun to swing to the offending ship. The clank of steel followed and Samantha craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the action.
A view of wood planks covered with a fine mist of sea spray greeted her. She couldn’t see a damn thing.
“Drat.”
Her gaze flitted between the window and her closed door while her fists clenched at her side. To hell with Griff’s orders. If she stayed below, she would miss the whole thing. She grabbed her mask from the corner of her desk and ran her fingertips over the supple black leather. She’d never had to use it before. Never thought she’d have the chance to. It would cover her from forehead to nose, enough to shield her identity.
The shouts outside intensified and her pulse quickened. Just a quick peek. No one would know.
She tied the mask on and scooped up a handful of hairpins. With practiced fingers, she twisted her hair atop her head and stabbed the pins in. On her way out, she snatched her rapier—the one thing she never misplaced—from its rack on the wall. Once on deck, she pressedher hat low and edged around the mainmast.
Her heart caught.
Even with the element of surprise on their side, her crew struggled. A flash of blue caught her eye as the lieutenant sent one of her men careening to the deck. Her stomach clenched into a hard knot when the man didn’t move. Griff turned with a snarl and rushed forward.
As the two men fought, Samantha’s throat seized. Though Griff was one of her uncle’s most talented fighters, the young lieutenant possessed more stamina and strength. When the fight turned in Thompson’s favor, she dragged her eyes away.
Panic clawed at her gut. If the lieutenant overtook Griff, the battle would be lost. And they would all face the noose.
Her hand tightened on the hilt of her rapier. Not if she could help it. Her uncle hadn’t hired the best swordsmen in America to teach her for nothing.
She dashed from her hiding place and grabbed a rope hanging from the main yard. Twisting the oiled cords in her hands, she leaped from the railing and the thrill of weightlessness grabbed at her stomach.
Her boots hit theFalcon’sdeck with a thump and she dropped the rope, yanking her rapier free. The battle raged around her with groups of men locked in combat. Samantha twisted around the fighting pairs and launched over a prone body. She found the lieutenant’s blue coat near the helm and sprinted that way.Please don’t be too late.
She took the stairs two at a time and burst onto the quarterdeck where Lieutenant Thompson’s sword gleamed in the sunlight. Griff stood doubled over, clutching his blood-soaked side, sword hanging to the ground. With no time to prepare herself, Samantha flew between the men with her own blade raised.
Clang!
The blow reverberated up her arm in a thousand shards of hot pain, and she jumped out of reach before the lieutenant could strike again.
His eyes narrowed on her and he barked out a laugh. “Sent in a boy to do a man’s work did they?”
She held her stance. Sweat dripped down the Lieutenant’s forehead and his broad shoulders heaved with each breath.
Good.
He lunged and she darted to the side. When he cut, she parried. Their feet began to glide across the deck in a deadly dance.
Keep him moving.
Don’t let him regain his breath.
Her instructor’s words rang loud and clear in her ears.
She pressed forward and met his blade in a bold thrust. Dark green eyes widened a fraction before he swung back at her. Though exhausted, he still made a formidable opponent. But what Samantha lacked in strength, she made up for in speed.
The lieutenant grunted when she advanced, deflecting her cuts as they came.
Right. Left. Back.
