He wanted to tell her that she was unforgettable. He wanted to tell her that he, himself, would never forget her. That one of the reasons he would never forget her was that he meant tonever trade her to pirates.
“They will believe I’ve remained one of Peter’s Lost Boys,” Isobel was saying, starting to pace. “If they are searching for Peter and this missing diamond watch, they would take me in a heartbeat. To use me as bait. For Peter.”
“What?” The more she explained it, the worse it became.
“Stop saying ‘what’!” she ordered, shoving at his chest with her palms. “I know you understand what I’m proposing.”
“I donotunderstand what you are proposing. I would never hand a woman over to pirates, especially notyou. My God, Isobel, what do you take me for? What good is gaining my cousin if I have lost you? To pirates, for God’s sake!”
He watched her blue eyes expand as she contemplated what this statement revealed. Jason seemed to have stopped caring what he revealed; she might as well know.
“Please stop,” she said, a scold, although there was a new sort of lilt to her voice. “Of course I will not belost. You think I cannot evade Phillipe Doucette? You insult me.”
“But you didn’t even want to come here!” he said. “Not even to translate. And now you’re offering yourself up to pirates?!”
“I’m here now,” she said, “and I will do whatever is necessary to finish the job and return home. Did youhear what Beddloe said about a recovery mission on this glacier-strewn barrier island? Impossible, he said.”
“Do not underestimate me or my men,” he said.
“I’m not saying it cannot be done, but I know it will take time. And resources. It will extend our stay in Iceland. Let us not forget that winter draws ever nearer. Autumn is here. The longer we remain, the more arduous our journey home.”
“Fine,” he said, “I’ll pay the ransom.”
“The ransom money is in bank notes,” she countered. “You said so yourself. You don’t have gold.”
“Where would the desperate families of Lincolnshire acquiregold?” he said, making excuses that didn’t matter. “They could barely scrape together credit from the bank.”
“Trust me when I say that bank notes will be poorly received by pirates. They will reject them and wish to renegotiate. I cannot dicker around Iceland, changing over bank notes with pirates! I must return home as soon as possible. I’ve a new life to begin. Samantha needs me. My mother needs me.”
“But, Isobel,” he said lowly, breathlessly, trying to level with her, “pirates?”
“I mean to escape almost immediately,” she explained, the words slow and deliberate, as if she was denouncing imaginary monsters for a child. “It would take almost no effort. The trouble with escapes, as we both know, is managingagroup, shepherding agroup, into the clear. Think of your Spanish dungeon story. You had fifty men to secret from the cell. Imagine if it had been only you. How much easier?
“Now imagine,” she continued, “you are a small woman, widely underestimated—ifyou’re noticed at all. Yet with all the necessary skills.”
“I will not imagine it,” he vowed, “if the escapeeis you.”
“You may even aid and abet me,” she assured. “With me on the bargaining table, you can manage the terms. Set the transfer somewhere close and safe. Thenyoumay facilitate the rescue, if it heartens you. How much easier to rescue me alone, on dry land, than seven Englishmen in varying degrees of wretchedness from a barrier island surrounded by ice?”
Jason could not speak.
“I promise,” she said, “you will scarcely have left the bargaining table with the merchants before I’ll have escaped. We’ll establish a rendezvous point. I will meet you.”
“I thought I was rescuing you.” He was grasping at straws.
She wasn’t listening. “Did you not hear me describe the life I led before Mayfair? I have not always been a girl in a travel shop. I can do this.”
“Please,” Jason said, holding up a hand. His mind spun.
“Please—what?” she demanded.
“Fine,” he said, “allow me to ask you this. I’m not entertaining your idea, it’s merely a question. Sheer curiosity.Why, exactly, would I claim to be in possession of you? Miss Isobel Tinker, former ‘Lost Boy,’ up for trade to pirates? Why?”
“You would say that I am your prisoner,” she informed him. “Of course.”
“Of course!” Jason blurted. He walked to the galley door and—bam!—gave it a shove. Beddloe could be heard behind the door, shouting in Italian.
He turned back to her, trying to think of some replyother than,Absolutely not.And yet his brain was consumed by those two words.
