She nodded, her gaze fixed firmly on Lily, who was slipping off to sleep again. "Yes. And I paid him half, as a deposit. To be sure of his cooperation."

"If that's the case, then I don't see that there's much to worry about--we won't show up, but he's got money in his purse, and he's no the worse for wear. Even if he wanted to go to Somerville with his story, he doesn't know where to look for us. What's his name?"

"Stoker."

The focus of his gaze sharpened suddenly. "Stoker! Why Mac Stoker, of all people?"

"Captain Mudge introduced us."

Nathaniel grunted. "I would have thought Grievous Mudge would have more good sense than that."

Now she flushed with irritation, and was glad of this new kind of energy. "Until Pickering sought me out, the Jackdaw was the only hope we had to get to Montréal today. Time was of the essence. I did the best I could, Nathaniel."

His expression cleared suddenly. "I know that, Boots. Christ, I know that." Andwitha sideways glance: "Did he try to put his hands on you?"

"No!" Elizabeth's head snapped up. "He was rude, but did me no harm. I went to see him just before we sailed. He took the money, and told me where we would find him tonight. And that's all there was to it."

"I'll guess he drove a pretty hard bargain."

Daniel gulped out of rhythm and coughed, sputtering milk. Lily, already asleep, began to twist her face into a knot at the sudden disturbance.

"Let me," Nathaniel murmured, leaning in to gather Lily up close to his chest so that Elizabeth could deal with Daniel. When the babies were quiet, Nathaniel said: "Mac Stoker ain't the kind to think of paying back money he hasn't earned, and he's not about to go calling on the Crown. He'll spend the silver and forget all about it." He turned to examine Lily's sleeping face in the light of the hanging lantern.

Against the dark heart of the night, the porthole was as round as a coin. Silver coin; yes. A handful of silver coins paid for passage, and she had left the Jackdaw so proud of herself and how she managed Mac Stoker that she never even realized that the chain she wore around her neck was gone. Someone had cut the chain as neatly as any London pickpocket, and not even Runs-from-Bears had noticed.

But sooner or later Nathaniel would see that it was gone. If only she had listened to Bears and stayed away from Stoker; but she had let her fear get the best of her common sense. Perhaps men were right and women were not capable of rational thought; perhaps she knew herself not at all. Let Mac Stoker be satisfied with money for work never done and with a single gold coin. A strange prayer, and one she feared would not be heard. A man like Stoker was rarely satisfied once the smell of gold was in his nose.

"Elizabeth." Curiosity was at the door, the long plaits running over her shoulders like dark rivers shot through with silver. "Let me put those babies down again," she whispered. "So you two can get some sleep." The keen brown gaze missed nothing, not the state of the bed or the flush that still mottled Elizabeth's breast or the bite marks on Nathaniel's shoulder, but she simply took the sleeping babies and slipped away.

When the door had closed behind Curiosity, Nathaniel put out the light and dropped his breeches. There was enough moonlight to show her the long flat muscles of his thighs and the intensity of his purpose; it was dark enough so that she could burn bright with the knowledge of her own reckless actions and he would take it for modesty, and for passion. At least that much was real; there was a stirring deep in her belly at the sight of him, as sharp and bright as the single silver earring that sparked against the dark column of his neck.

"So, Boots," he said, one finger moving up the slope of her calf so that her toes curled tight. "Now that you've got that confession off your chest, tell me, is it sleep you've got on your mind, or the lack of it?"

It was midmorning before the Nancy sailed into the narrowing of the St. Lawrence that would take them into port at Québec. Even beldecks the bosun's raised voice could be heard as he sent the crew scrambling to shift sails.

Because they could not show their faces on deck in a port crowded with the king's soldiers and excisemen, the Bonner party stood at the transom windows in Pickering's quarters, watching the traffic on the river. More masts and sails than could be counted; barks and schooners, two frigates, sloops and cutters, merchantmen and whaleboats, private packets, bateaux and canoes, some of them big enough to seat twenty men. Many of them were Royal Navy vessels, which made Elizabeth glad of the heavy draperies that could be pulled shut; she did not like to look very long at the harbor, which had the feel of a carnival just barely in control.

Curiosity juggled Lily to a more suitable spot on her shoulder and shook her head at the sight of it. "I thought sailors was supposed to be tidy-minded."

Hawkeye snorted softly. "You'll see precious little tidy about Québec at the beginning of the season. The North West Company is just gearing up for the trek to Grand Portage--in another week they'll be off for Lachine and this place will seem like a nunnery. Not that we'll see it."

"Look," said Hannah, pointing to the long dock that seemed to be their destination. Boatworks and a storehouse of brick, all belonging to Forbes and Son Enterprises. The dock itself was dominated by a three-masted merchant ship, square-rigged, newly painted, carved and gilded on every surface. A merchantman, as bright and beautiful a ship as Elizabeth had ever seen.