“Why did you show yourself to the lieutenant?”
A grey brow rose in the pale moonlight. “Why do you care?”
“Because he still didn’t know who I was. Now, who knows what he’ll do?”
“Miss Warstein, it doesn’t matter.”
“Don’t Miss Warstein me. Why ever doesn’t it matter? What if he comes after me?” A little shiver ran up her spine at the thought of those angry green eyes bearing down on her.You better hope...His last words rang in her head.
“It doesn’t matter...” Griff stared ahead, over her shoulder, as he rowed. “Because Thorne will never let him live.”
Her throat went dry and a heavy weight settled in her stomach.
“So you left him to die?”
He ignored her.
Samantha grabbed one of his oars. “Look at me!” She waited for him to swivel his steely gaze to her. “We have never willingly let innocent people die before.”
He jerked the oar free and began rowing again. “The lieutenant is far from innocent.”
“Griff—”
“Look. He’s too smart for his own good. Even if I hadn’t shown myself, he still would have figured it out. It was too big of a risk to take. Plus, you were about to waste precious more time trying to free him.”
Samantha crossed her arms.
“Don’t try to lecture me. You’re the one who got us into this mess in the first place. You have no one to blame but yourself. You want experience and lessons? Here’s one: Sometimes a captain needs to choose between two wrong choices.”
Something uncomfortable pricked along the back of her throat.
Of course, he was right. She dropped her eyes to the dark water sloshing against the small boat’s hull and twisted her dirty skirt between her fingers. Why did it feel so wrong, then?
The clouds chose that moment to cover the moon and shadows swept across the bay. Despite the sticky air, Samantha shivered.
Yes, the lieutenant was their enemy. Yes, he would make her life hell. But did he deserve to die?
They pulled up alongside the brigantine and rope ladders were lowered. Yet another nameplate had been affixed to the ship’s prow since she’d last been aboard.Raven.
Once they safely secured the longboat on the main deck, the crew exploded into action. The anchor chain clinked and she smiled at the efficiency. They must have started raising it as soon as she and Griff had emerged onto the beach. With loud flaps, black oiled sails were lowered. Samantha stared up at the inky canvas. She’d never seen a ship rigged with dark sails before—only heard the crews tell stories—but her lips tugged up for a brief moment. They certainly fit with the new name.
Even the jib sails had been set to give them all the extra speed theycould muster. The topgallant caught the wind and the planks beneath her feet vibrated. Samantha lifted a hand and set it onto the mainmast. Her eyes drifted shut as the ship began to cut through the waves.
Boots echoed from the deck behind her and she turned to find Griff standing there.
“You really love her, don’t you?”
She lowered her hand. “What do you mean?”
“The ship. You hum her song. I’ve never seen anyone do that before.”
Heat crept up her cheeks. Had she been humming aloud?
“How about you captain her for the rest of this voyage?”
Her limbs tingled. Did he mean it?
“The rest of the voyage?”
