“Very good, Mr. Rowe,” Poppy said drily. “I’m a different houseguest.”
“But you were…”
“Enough, Rowe!” the other man growled, interrupting what was about to become a very awkward comment for Poppy. “Go back and get the right girl.”
“What am I supposed to do? Sneak in and start opening bedroom doors?”
“Sounds like a plan to me. Get moving!”
Rowe retreated down the tunnel they’d emerged from. Poppy looked after him. “I know what bedroom he’s looking for. Why didn’t you ask me?”
Spargo snorted. “You’d probably have lied. And anyway, Rowe ought to sweat a bit, after stealing the wrong girl.”
“I don’t suppose you’ll let me go.”
“Sorry, lassie. You know too much. But I’ll see that you’re treated well until we part company.”
“Oh, you mean when I’m sold?”
Spargo grinned, and she realized that he had no heart at all. “Practice your smile, lass. Men like a lass who can smile.”
“I sincerely hope you drown someday,” Poppy said sweetly.
He gestured to the crates. “Sit. I’m going to tie your ankle to that ring in the wall, so don’t think you’ll be strolling out of here.”
“What is it this time?” Poppy asked, gesturing to the cargo. “Did you steal the Crown jewels?”
“I would if I could,” Spargo replied. “This is all supplies from the army or navy. Not as exciting, but still quite profitable. Opium, guns, and gunpowder. And of course, now we can add you to the merchandise.”
He used a heavy rope that stank of tar to secure her leg to the iron ring in the wall. If she had a sharp blade, she could probably saw her way through it. But she was armed with only her wit, and that was simply not going to be sharp enough tonight.
Spargo left her then, telling her not to be an idiot or he’d have to kill her.
“I’d send a man to keep watch, but your value would very likely decline after any of my men got a quarter hour alone with you,” he noted, with a leer. “So I’ll come back for you myself, and you’d best be grateful for it.”
“I hope you catch on fire, fall off your ship, and then drown,” Poppy amended, not feeling in the least bit grateful.
He raised his hand as if about to strike her, grinned when she shrank back. Then he turned on his heel and walked out, toward the beach.
With her ankle attached to the rope, Poppy had about ten feet of range. She examined the crates, and then a cluster of barrels, hoping to find an abandoned knife or something to use as a weapon. Instead, she saw something more dangerous. One of the three barrels was open. She smelled the contents, and her nostrils flared. Gunpowder! It must have been opened so the men could refill their own supplies before the risky smuggling run began.
Inspired, she plunged her hand into the barrel, spilling out some in her haste to gather what she needed. She bundled a bit of powder into her kerchief and tied it up. Then she tucked it into the pocket of her dress, a hazy, desperate plan forming in her mind.
She listened to the distorted calls of men coming from further up the passage. She knew she had to create some sort of distraction so she might be able to get away. But how could she do that when she had no weapon?
Just then, a light glowed ahead, dazzling her eyes even though it was only a single lantern flame. Her heart beat nervously. Had Rowe returned so quickly? No, that had to be impossible.
Hiding wasn’t an option, so Poppy grabbed the lantern. If she had to, she’d hurl it at the next man who approached her.
But the man who stumbled out of the tunnel into the light wasn’t Deputy Rowe. In fact, it was a sinfully handsome, vaguely piratical gentleman of her acquaintance.
Poppy stared at Carlos in amazement. He’d come all the way through the miles of narrow tunnels, in the dark?
“Carlos?” she whispered.
Carlos smiled slowly, and walked up to Poppy. “Did you miss me?”
“Terribly.” She threw her arms around him, and said, “You walked the passageway from the house? By yourself?”
