Suddenly, over the rush of the wind, he heard a strange sound. Had that been...coughing? Striding to the aft rail, he peered over and started in surprise. The lass had managed to snag a trailing rope and was clinging to the side of the boat like a barnacle. Was she out of her mind?
“Let go, ye daft woman!” he bellowed at her.
She only clung tighter. “Not a chance!” She coughed out seawater. “This is my boat and you’renotstealing it!”
Conall leaned over the rail and grabbed at her, trying to pry her fingers loose. She bit his hand. With a grunt, he released her and staggered back.
“I dinna have time for this nonsense,” he yelled. “What must I do to be rid of ye?”
With an annoyed growl, he leaned over, grabbed the back of her tunic, and hauled her over the railing. She went tumbling onto the deck in a soggy heap.
For several moments, she lay on her back, staring up at the sky, her chest heaving. She was brave, he had to give her that. Brave or insane.
She rolled onto her side, coughed out some more water, and then staggered unsteadily to her feet, wagging a finger at him.
“You want rid of me?” she gasped. “Then you can start by telling me who you are and why you’re stealing my boat.”
“My name is Conall Sinclair and I’mnotstealing yer boat. I purchased theMermaidin good faith in Cromarty. If ye have some disagreement with her former owner, I recommend ye take it up with him. As far as I’m concerned, I bought her fair and square—”
“The what?” she asked. “What did you say the boat’s name was?”
“TheMermaid.”
She scowled. She looked a disheveled mess with her hair plastered to her face and water dripping off her but even so, he was struck by the intensity of her bright hazel eyes.
“This is theSelkie,” she said. “Not theMermaid.”
He sighed. He got the feeling that arguing with her was pointless. Instead, he tried a different tack. “What’s yer name, lass?”
She blinked, caught off guard by his change in topic. “Molly. Molly Anderson.”
Conall glanced at the sky. It was growing darker as clouds gathered and a chill wind blew across the deck. He could see that Molly was cold and wet, and despite her earlier aggression, he felt a pang of pity for her.
He opened a locker and rummaged around inside until he found his spare cloak. He held it out. “Put this on. Ye must be chilled to the bone.”
She eyed him suspiciously for a moment before accepting the garment. She muttered a quiet thank you and wrapped it around her shoulders. Her earlier fire had dimmed and now she seemed a little lost as she gazed around at theMermaid.
“This is theSelkie,” she muttered under her breath. “It has to be.”
Who was she? What kind of thief would risk their life by clinging onto a line the way she had?
“Dinna fash, lass. I’ll put ye ashore somewhere safe,” he said, doing his best to sound reasonable when by rights he ought to throw her overboard and be done with it.
She whirled, eyes flashing, that fire back in her expression. “You bloody well will not! This is my boat, and there’s no way I’m getting off it!”
They were going around in circles. “I’m in no mood to argue, woman, so stop yer caterwauling.”
“Caterwauling?” She stomped up to him, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Let’s see what the police have to say about this!”
He batted her hand away, glaring down at her. “Are ye daft? What are police?”
She opened her mouth for another retort when her gaze fixed over his shoulder, eyes widening.
He turned to see what had distracted her and his breath caught in his throat. Cresting the nearby headland was a ship—a two-masted brigantine with billowing white sails and a deck full of armed men.
“Damnation,” he growled. This day just kept getting worse.
Wrenching the tiller around, he aimed for the shoreline, hoping to slip out of sight before he was spotted. But the idiotic lass dashed for the rail, waving her arms and shouting.
