Margery had come so close to escaping without being noticed.

It had been such a long journey, too, but she’d done everything in her power to stay silent. Hidden. Away from prying eyes and hands. Curled into a ball behind casks of ale which were obviously meant to be delivered to their destination, rather than enjoyed by the men who worked aboard the ship. They would leave her hiding place alone.

A stroke of luck which Margery had celebrated. She’d taken it as a sign that her voyage was blessed by God, that He had turned a benevolent eye toward her. That He didn’t think her a fool for wanting…

For simply wanting more.

According to her estimation, four days had passed since she’d boarded the ship in Silloth. Not enough time to make it to the Thames, at least she didn’t believe so. Perhaps she had gotten close enough to it to make the rest of the way over land, as she had on her journey to Silloth from Thrushwood.

She had already gone through too much to accept defeat.

Beatrice would never believe the stories she had to tell. Sleeping in barns, burrowing into the hay to keep herself warm. Watching the activity in the farmhouses the barns belonged to, the little cottages with glowing fires visible inside. Hearing the laughter of loving families floating on the night air, reminding her of what she was missing out on by striking out on her own.

Of what she’d always missed, except for the moments she’d shared with Beatrice. They were all the other had in the world. And they needed better than their miserable little lives in Thrushwood, no matter what anyone else said.

She’d stowed away and hidden herself, heart racing all the while. Racing to the point where she wondered if she’d be able to keep from fainting as her eyes had darted about in the nearly pitch-black hold, searching for a place where she would remain safe. The casks had seemed the most likely hiding spot.

And it had worked. For four nauseating days full of the rising and falling of the ship as it crossed the sea. Days full of the smell of her own waste as it collected in another corner of the hold, where she would venture only to relieve herself before scurrying back to her hiding place like the rats who called the ship home.

More than once, she’d asked herself what she thought she was doing. How insane, thinking she could survive on a ship. With only the few bits of food she’d managed to purchase from a market stall in the harbor to keep her alive. Hunger had gnawed at her by the end of the third day and became nearly unbearable by the start of the fourth.

That was just this morning.

Perhaps it was for the best that her journey had come to an early finish.

So long as she managed to get away from the angry, jeering sailors. Considering the grip they both had on her arms, the odds did not appear to be in her favor.

A crowd had begun to gather, all of them thinking it amusing that a young woman dressed in boy’s clothing had been captured.

Margery’s cheeks burned hot enough to hurt, feeling their eyes on her as their laughter assaulted her ears. Tears pricked behind her eyes, stinging, but she didn’t dare allow them to fall. It would be the height of humiliation.

“What’d ya think you were doin’ there, lass?” One of the leering, stinking sailors leaned in closer, the stench of his breath making her nose wrinkle without her thinking about it.

She didn’t wish to offend him, especially since her life was in his hands, but she couldn’t help it. He was repulsive.

And it seemed as though he wanted an explanation.

“I—I wanted to get to the Thames River,” she explained, her voice shaking. “I want to get to London.”

“London?” He blinked, his face going slack.

A moment later, he broke out in hysterical laughter which turned into a fit of coughing. The other sailors, the one holding her other arm and the one behind her, joined in.

“What?” she asked, looking this way and that. The only person not in on the joke, her heart sinking fast with every passing second.

“Lass, this ship isn’t going to London,” the first of them to stop laughing explained, wiping tears of mirth from his cheeks, where they cut a path through the dirt caked on his skin. “It departed from Silloth and traveled north, around the northernmost tip of Scotland. You wanted to go south.”

“I…” Her voice seemed to disappear as the weight of the truth settled on her chest, nearly crushing her. She was in Scotland. No longer even in England. “Where am I now?”

“Kirkcaldy,” one of them announced. “Just about as far from London as one could hope to get, I’d expect.”

Another chorus of laughter, jibes, and general nastiness. Her soul shrank, just as she wanted to shrink and curl into a ball and fade into nothingness. They were laughing at her. They thought she was a fool.

Perhaps she was.

No, you’re not. It was Beatrice’s voice in her head, strong and clear. You’re brave and resourceful. You made it this far. They’re only angry with themselves for not having noticed you before now. They want to know how a silly little girl made a fool out of them. Don’t allow them to hurt you.

Her spine straightened, her chin rising in defiance. “Take your hands off me. All of you.” Her voice was as strong and loud as it would be if she weren’t afraid at all.

It was enough to silence them, at least, the three sailors gaping at her in surprise.

The crowd had begun to thin, too, the novelty having worn off. Only a few villagers remained. One of them—a tall, broad-shouldered man with thick arms crossed over an equally thick chest—watched with keen interest.

No matter how strong her voice sounded, however, it wasn’t enough.

The grip on her arms tightened painfully, one of the sailors pulling her to him until her body was flat against his.

She tried to recoil, to push herself away from him, but another of them pressed himself to her back until she was trapped between the pair. It was enough to make her skin crawl, their stench choking her.

“Enough of this!” The voice was as sharp as the crack of a whip, and all involved turned to the source.

Much to Margery’s surprise, it came from the same thick-armed man.

Even with space between them, it was clear that his eyes burned with rage as he watched what unfolded before him.

It was enough to send a shiver through her, in spite of the disgusting position she found herself in. She could almost forget her repulsion.

“Who do you think you are?”

Her left arm was mercifully released, numb from the rough treatment, and hanging useless at her side, as one of her captors approached the much-larger man.

“Hugh McInnis, owner of McInnis Shipping. Extremely well-acquainted with nearly every shipping company in England, Scotland, and France.” Large, strong hands moved to his hips, framing his trim waist. “Do you enjoy being employed? If not, I’m certain that something could be done to remedy your situation.” His sharp, fiery eyes shifted in the direction of the other sailors. “All of your situations.”

Just like that, Margery was free. She nearly sank to the wood planks of the dock on which she stood, she was so weak with hunger and relief. It had been a very long journey, indeed.

The sailors cast doleful looks her way, cursing and spitting near their feet before returning to the ship.

She would gladly never see them again. Or smell them. The strong, nauseating odor seemed to hang all around her even after they were nowhere near and the breeze coming from the sea swept over her.

The makeshift pack she’d been carrying since leaving home was lying near her feet, and she bent to retrieve it. On standing, a wave of dizziness nearly overtook her, and she felt herself swooning. The noisy activity all along the harbor went silent in her head as darkness began to overtake her.

Suddenly, she was suspended above the dock, never touching the rough wooden planks though her legs were no longer beneath her.

She forced her eyes open, the lids fluttering, and found herself looking into eyes which no longer burned, but were just as brilliant as they stared into hers.

The arms which had been crossed over his broad chest were around her, her body pressed to his unyielding muscles.

The man who had saved her was saving her again.