“Everything is out of control,” she said, pulling her hand free. “I haven’t the stomach for chaos. I’ve outgrown it.”
“And yet you’re willing to undertake this incredibly risky, wholly chaotic ‘trade’?”
“If it hastens us along—yes. I will do it.” She turned to face him.
“The only reason I’ve consented is because it feels important to you. I’m doing it for you.”
“And I’m doing it for you. How altruistic we both are.”
“Is that it?” He raised an eyebrow.
The air between them strummed with energy. He was watching her closely, waiting for her to give some sign. Ayes, or apleaseor anI-feel-it-too.
“Can you excuse me?” she asked, turning away. There was no time for yesand no future forfeeling-it-too.
“Isobel.” Not a request, simply a statement of her name.
“Not long now,” she said. “Meet on deck in ten minutes?”
She glanced at him, perhaps her greatest act of courage today. His eyes were anguished and searching, but he nodded and quit the room.
With considerable effort, Isobel forced the duke from her mind and settled at her desk. Working quickly, she laid open the small black vest and secured the dagger inside the lapel. She’d devoted several hours last night to sewing by candlelight, engineering a slot to conceal the blade. She preferred to seat a dagger tipup, so it could be drawn and ready for defense in one, slick movement.
Next, she took up the apple seeds. Another nighttime hour had been spent in the galley of the brig, grinding the seeds into a fine powder and measuring the dust into a tiny saltcellar. She’d scoured the reference book to be reminded of the procedure. To do lasting harm, it would take ninety apple seeds, but Mr. Godfrey had sold her fewer than twenty. It was enough to cause intestinal distress but nothing more. She hid the vial inside the tiny black pouch and secured it inside her belt.
Lastly, she scrawled out a note to her mother.
“Georgiana,”it read.
I’m up to my old tricks. The situation here has demanded a touch of drama and daring. Luckily, I’ve been able to call up these skills and find them not entirely withered inside me. If you are reading this, something may have gone a little off, and I am sorry.
Please know that I have been fearless to the end and that I love you. There is money to see you through many happy years in Cornwall. Samantha will know what to do.
Yours,
Bell
After she sealed it and tucked it among her things, she cast one look around her tidy cabin and quit the room.
Isobel Tinker was afraid of many things, but pirates were not one of them.
Jason paced on the deck, going over and over the ill-advised plan in his head. If it had sounded like a bad idea three nights ago, now it felt like Certain Doom.
He’d spent hours squabbling with Isobel about her safety and even more time poring over maps with Shaw. In the end, he’d given the plan his reluctant blessing.
Their goals were: give the pirates very little time to prepare, hence the three-day window between his proposal of the trade and today.
Give off the impression that he and his party were stiff and untrained. He’d laid the groundwork for this in the language of the proposal. He would further cultivate it at the bargaining table.
Finally, separate the pirates from their ship on dry land.
Jason had designated a remote tavern beside the River Pjorsa as the location for the trade. According to Donatello Beddloe, the tavern was known to the pirates because it was near to the farm of their Icelandic allies. To reach it from their location in the eastern part of the country, the pirates would sail around the southeast tip of the island, drop anchor at the mouth of the river, and row smaller crafts inland. They would have their rowboats but be half a day’s paddle from their ship. They would also be exhausted from rowing upstream.
Meanwhile, Jason, Isobel, and their team would be two hours’ ride from the village of Stokkseyri.
If Isobel managed to drug the pirates as she proposed, Doucette and his men would be incapacitated long enough for everyone, including a horse-drawn cart containing Reggie and his lot, to return to Stokkseyri and the waiting brigantine. When they convened on theFeather, they would sail for home.
As if on cue, Isobel now emerged from belowdecks, her long, loose hair blowing in the wind like a pennant, skirts swishing to reveal the buckskins and tall boots.
