“We don’t drink.”
Silence fell around them and she closed her eyes. Of course. No wonder the barkeep had been so quick to make the deal.
To his credit, Griff improvised fast. “I’m sure the amount could be applied toward other activities. The ladies would be happy to oblige.”
The giant snorted. “We’ve no need for women to warm our beds.”
Griff nudged her with his toe. Her signal to get ready. But if they continued to approach with no good reason, they risked drawing the pirate’s ire.
Griff didn’t miss a beat. “Surely, there must be something? Don’t tell me you don’t eat as well?”
One of her crewmates sniggered. And then the gentle bump of wood against wood. Time to move.
Samantha pulled the canvas back just enough to slip over the edgeof the longboat. Warm water enveloped her, soaking through her breeches and shirt, and she pressed against the ship. Here, the curve of the hull obscured her from view.
She kicked her feet and edged along the waterline, away from Griff and her crew who negotiated free meals with Thorne’s crew. The anchor cable rose from the water off the bow and she swam to it with strong strokes. Lifting herself into the air with waterlogged clothes proved harder than she’d thought. Hand over hand, she ascended, wrapping her feet around the massive rope for more leverage.
When she reached the hull, she swung her feet over to the figurehead, a busty mermaid with an angry scowl upon her face. Chest heaving, Samantha edged toward the railing as Griff and her crewmates rowed away. Shadows began to cast across the bay and she flexed and unflexed her fingers. Not much time left.
Moments later, her feet landed on the deck of the forecastle. She checked that her hair remained pinned in place under Tommy’s hat and glanced down at her soaked clothing. Thank goodness she’d had the sense to bind her breasts.
“What the hell are you doing up here, boy?”
She stiffened before turning to face the giant. As a cabin boy, the forecastle would be off-limits to Skip.
Backing toward the stairs, she dropped her gaze to the deck and tugged her hat lower. “Wanted to get a better view of the visitors.” She jutted a thumb toward the retreating longboat.
“Why are you wet?”
“I fell in.”
He approached and she gulped. “Why didn’t you call for help?”
She stepped down onto the first step. “I didn’t want anyone to know.”
Silence.
She took another step.
“Why are you above deck in the first place? What time is it?”
Her gaze jerked out to the darkening sky and her surprise was not an act. She may already be too late. “I gotta go!”
Samantha turned and sprinted for the hatch, ready to dive out of the way. But the giant didn’t chase her. She dropped to the gun deck and ran without stopping to the next hatch. Once in the darkness of the hallway below, she reached out to the wall to steady herself. Her entire body trembled and she took a deep breath before staggering down the hallway toward the galley.
She tested each door she passed until one opened into a small storage closet. Perfect. In one corner, a broken mop leaned against the wall. Even better. Leaving the door ajar, she peeked into the galley, where a large man bent over a steaming cauldron. A platter of food and a wine goblet sat on a table near the door and she nearly doubled over in her relief. Not too late.
So where was Skip? Her gaze continued down the hallway and stopped at the open hatch on the floor. The brig. With a tight throat, she dragged her eyes away. No distractions. Not right now.
But a movement there made her suck in a breath. Skip climbed through the hatch and slammed it shut. When he bent to lock it, her heart leaped back to life. It could only mean one thing.
Christian was alive.
While Skip locked the chain, Samantha backed into the closet. Her fingers wrapped around the smooth wood of the broom handle. Before the cabin boy could enter the galley she leaned out.
“Hello, Skip.”
He skidded to a stop with wide eyes. “Who’re you?”
