Page 17 of The Spy’s Song

For several seconds Louise could not make sense of the words. Nikolaj swore, and boots scraped hard against the boards. Someone ordered him to stand still.

Rodrick would betray one of his own men? Dust fell over her eyes as the sailors struggled above her. Someone barked an order in English, and the deck shuddered.

Her hand tightened against the concealed panel. Rodrick might be a turncoat spy, but she would never buy her passage with another's life. Louise opened the compartment. Lamplight struck her, making her blink as she hauled herself through the narrow opening. Her cramped legs almost failed beneath her when she stood, and she caught the edge of the bench until the blood returned in painful needles to her feet.

The cutter rode against Freja's lee side, rising and dropping with the water. Grapnel lines stretched taut between the vessels. Nikolaj was already at the rail, one British sailor ahead of him on the cutter and another behind, forcing him across the gap.

Louise stepped forward, pulling Rodrick's coat closed over the remnants of her costume. Once a position became indefensible, one did not remain there merely because retreat hurt.

"Stop. I am Louise Bonnechoix, the woman Colonel Arlesford is searching for."

Rodrick went utterly still, and the color seemed to leave the skin around his mouth. Every sound nearest her seemed to falter.

She raised her chin toward Nikolaj. "Release him. I will go willingly."

The officer's expression hardened. "Take her aboard."

A sailor stepped forward and seized her arm.

"Detain the vessel. Disarm the crew. Secure Captain Reventlow."

A sailor shoved Nikolaj farther across.

"No. You misunderstand me." She turned toward the officer as far as the sailor's grip allowed. "I am surrendering in his place."

"This is not a market stall, Miss. You do not get to choose what we take."

His gaze shifted toward Nikolaj. "You are wanted. He is wanted. The vessel is detained."

Her stomach turned, and heat climbed beneath her skin.

"Captain, you neglected to mention we were transporting treason. I shall expect part of my passage refunded," Rodrick drawled.

He was trying to save his skin! His gaze traveled over Louise from slippers to disordered hair, insulting in its leisure. "Let me see her. One hears so much about dangerous women, and they invariably turn out disappointingly small."

Something in his eyes stopped her retort. The sailor's fingers tightened around her arm while Rodrick stepped closer, regarding her with all the fascination of a gentleman who had discovered plague aboard his pleasure yacht.

The sailor lifted his free hand. "Stand back, my lord."

"My dear fellow, if she intended to murder me, I imagine she would have managed it already."

He stopped directly before Louise. His sneer held no amusement. The sailor dragged her half a step backward.

Rodrick's gaze dropped to the hand bruising her arm. "Take your hand off her."

The sailor blinked. "My lord?"

"Ah." Rodrick's smile widened. "I do beg your pardon. I phrased that as though it were a request."

Rodrick caught the sailor's wrist and drove it outward, stepping across him as his shoulder struck the sailor's chest. The ship rolled beneath them, and Rodrick used the motion to drive him toward the rail. The sailor shouted as he vanished over the side. A tremendous splash followed.

Rodrick grabbed Louise by the waist, and pulled her behind him.

His sword came free, his body settling between her and the boarding party before the officer had time to shout.

Across the quarterdeck, Conrad drew a short-handled boarding axe.

Every Dane on the quarterdeck followed. Steel rang around her. Men surged past in red and Danish blue, too close and too fast for Louise to follow. Freja rolled beneath their feet as the cutter ground against her side, grapnel lines snapping taut between the rails. The deck turned into a battlefield.