Savannah Heat by Kat Martin

“Maybe if you had someone to watch after you, you wouldn’t have to go ’round acting like a man.”
    “Belay that, sailor,” Jeremy Flagg said, interrupting them, for which Silver was grateful. “Cookie needs your help in the galley.”
    “Aye, Mr. Flagg.” With a last glance at Silver, he turned and walked away.
    “Sorry about that, ma’am. Jordy don’t mean no harm; he’s just young, is all.”
    Silver just nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Flagg.” She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “I believe I’ll go below.”
    She did for a while, spent some time reading, trying in vain to occupy her thoughts. When all her efforts failed and the cabin grew warm with the afternoon sun, she returned to the deck.
    She hadn’t been there long when the lookout spotted a ship off the starboard bow. She was a sleek white schooner about the same size as the
Savannah
. The winds had died down, and the seas were calm, barely moving the two ships through the water. Apparently it was someone Trask knew because when the
Rival
drew near, both ships lowered their sails and hove to alongside each other.
    Silver watched the sailors aboard each ship swing long metal grappling hooks over the rails, drop woven hemp bumpers, then begin to pull the two boats side by side. It seemed the major intended to board the
Rival
.
    Silver enjoyed the ship’s sleek lines, watched the men aboard her scurrying to do their captain’s bidding. She was a neat, well-kept ship much like the
Savannah
. Only she was headed in the opposite direction.
    Silver’s heart leaped hard inside her chest. The
Rival
was sailing west, back toward America. If she could find some way to board her, stow away without anyone knowing, she might be saved yet.
    “You even think about trying to go aboard,” Trask warned, walking up beside her, “and I’ll lock you in my cabin until she’s gone.”
    Silver subdued a guilty flush “I’m not a fool, Major Trask. It’s obvious you would spot me the moment I stepped over the rail.”
    “There’s always the water,” he said sarcastically.
    “Maybe if it were dark, but I doubt I could make it in broad daylight.”
    Trask eyed her warily. “You’ll do well to remember that. I’m not in the mood for a swim.”
    He strode away, and Silver released a sigh of resignation. Even if she got around to the opposite side without being spotted, she probably couldn’t find a way to climb aboard. As Silver stood watching, Morgan stepped over the starboard rail and briskly climbed the last few steps of the stiff rope ladder that hung from the side of the
Rival
. Apparently carrying less cargo than the heavily laden
Savannah
, the other ship rode higher in the water.
    Damn, if there were only some way to sneak aboard! Silver glanced to the rail. Both Demming and Riley stood beside it, standing guard, it seemed. A pelican screeched overhead, and Silver looked up. The tall twin masts of the
Savannah
swayed gently back and forth. A few feet away, the
Rival
’s masts also dipped and swayed, occasionally brushing near those of the other ship.
    Silver’s eyes went wide with a sudden shot of hope. Maybe there was a way! With only a moment’s hesitation she turned and raced below. In her tiny steward’s cabin she found Jordy’s threadbare breeches and shirt—the first ones he had lent her—washed, dried, and ready to wear again, and she quickly put them on. In Trask’s quarters she rummaged through a trunk and found a small-billed seaman’s cap and stuffed her long hair up under it and out of the way. She belted her shirt around the waist with a piece of line, then glanced at herself in the broken mirror. She could barely see her face beneath the brim of the cap, and though she couldn’t view the rest of her clothing, she figured as busy as the crewmen were she could probably pass among them without being noticed.
    Once on deck, Silver skirted the starboard rail,where Demming and Riley stood watch, and headed larboard instead. The