was, and didn’t much care as the boat, free from its tie to the steamship, glided back and away. London raised her head enough to see the ship steam on into the night, leaving her behind.
Father! her mind screamed.
“Now,” Drayton said softly, “it shouldn’t be long now before—ah! Here we are.”
Appearing from the darkness like a ghost ship was a caique, wreathed in the same sweet fog that had enveloped the steamer. A few dim lanterns hung from the mainsail boom, allowing London to see the hazy shapes of people moving around on deck. She’d been taken. She was alone. Alone with a boat full of strangers. London began to shake. She flinched when Drayton put a large, warm hand on her ankle.
“Don’t be frightened,” he said with surprising kindness and sincerity. “We truly won’t harm you.”
London tried to turn away, blinking back tears. She wished she’d never met Ben Drayton. She wished she hadn’t seen those blasted writings on her father’s desk. She wished she was back in her own home, safely ensconced in her library, reading old tomes in front of the fire and merely dreaming of faraway places.
They were idle wishes. The caique drew up next to the canoe, and London squeezed her eyes shut.
“You certainly know how to treat a lady,” a woman’s accented voice said dryly. “The poor thing is terrified.”
“I know, Athena,” Drayton said, impatient. “Give me a hand, Kallas,” he added in Greek.
London felt herself picked up and passed from one set of hands to another before being set on her feet. Opening her eyes, London found she was on the deck of the caique. Two Greek sailors stared at her before slinking away, bearing the little canoe. There was another sailor, not particularly tall, but built like a bull, looking at her with an unreadable expression as he worked a pipe stem back and forth in his teeth. A woman, dark and regal, came forward, dressed more appropriately for an afternoon salon than a nighttime kidnapping in the middle of the Aegean Sea. London shied away when the woman reached for her.
“Come now, I only mean to untie you,” the woman said gently in English. “But, mind, if I do, do not try and jump over the side. Your father’s ship is long gone, and we are far from the shore. You could not swim the distance. Yes?”
Seeing that the woman was right, London nodded. Quickly, the binding at her wrists was loosened until London was able to pull her hands free. She snatched the gag from her mouth, then coughed to clear her dry throat.
Finally, she rasped, “Who are you people? What do you want with me?”
“Everything will be revealed, in time,” Drayton said, coming forward. He held up his hands, placating, as London edged back. “All we want is to have a conversation with you.”
“A conversation,” London repeated in disbelief. She was certain that at any moment she would be assaulted or murdered.
“A conversation,” echoed Drayton evenly. “Merely that, and nothing else.”
London’s fear shifted, reshaping itself. Hot, unchecked anger poured through her. She’d never felt anything like it before, but it filled her with a newfound power. When the woman and Drayton took a few steps toward her, London grabbed a nearby bottle from a crate and brandished it like a club. Miraculously, both Drayton and the woman stopped their advance.
“You abducted me from my cabin in the middle of the night, forced me off my ship, stuck me in a minuscule boat, and then brought me here,” London said, her voice surprising her with its strength. “If all you want to do is talk, then it sure as hell had better be good.”
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