In desperation Rowena went down to the harbour to talk to some fishermen she knew, not knowing what she would achieve by this, but desperately hoping to find someone who would help her in her dilemma. The information she was given by one fisherman was unexpected. It would seem there was only one man who could help her—Tobias Searle.

      Rowena felt her hopes rise. It would seem the whole of Cornwall had heard of the exploits of Tobias Searle. By all accounts he was the scourge of every pirate and brigand between Europe and the Caribbean. He had feelers everywhere and knew the seas and the North African coast like the pirates themselves.

      Rowena stood looking at the Cymbeline in silence for a long time. Until yesterday it had been riding at anchor out in the bay, but now it was moored further along the quay. If what she had been told was true, then could she humbly go to Tobias Searle and beg his help? Plead with him to help her, bargain with him? But she had nothing to bargain with. Slowly her gaze shifted from the majestic vessel to the smaller Rowena Jane, and she realised she had something to offer him after all.

      Rowena hated the thought of humbling herself before her father’s sworn enemy, but her desperation to find Jane was the stronger force. If it meant he would help her, she would crawl and grovel to Old Nick himself. He represented her one chance of finding Jane.

      She observed the vessel was taking on provisions, as though it was preparing to leave, which she considered strange, since she truly believed Mr Searle would not leave Falmouth until her father had paid him what he owed him.

      Walking towards the vessel, she paused at the bottom of the broad plank connecting the ship to the quay, along which members of the crew were carrying casks of water and salt meat and other provisions.

      ‘I wish to see Mr Searle,’ she said to the first man she encountered. ‘He—is on board?’

      ‘Aye, miss—in ’is cabin with Mr Dexter. Follow me and I’ll take you to him.’

      The cabin, with dark wood panelling and polished chairs, was quite splendid. Tobias was at a table, poring over a chart spread out over its surface, his finger on a particular spot. Another man stood beside him. Tobias looked up.

      ‘Rowena?’ Though he was clearly surprised, it in no way shattered his cool disdain.

      ‘I’m sorry to intrude, but I would be grateful if you could spare me a little of your time.’

      He grinned. ‘Forgive me. I thought you were the new cabin boy.’

      Her eyebrows rose. ‘Do I look like a cabin boy?’

      His gaze flicked over her in her sky blue muslin sprigged with tiny violet flowers and a violet velvet sash about her waist. Grinning, he had a wicked twinkle in his eye, as though her arrival on board was an amusing diversion. He shook his head. ‘Not in the slightest. This is Mr Dexter, captain of the Cymbeline. Mark, allow me to present to you Miss Golding.’

      Mark Dexter stepped towards her, smiling broadly. About forty years of age, he was a splendidly built man, broad shouldered and bearded, with a lined and cheerful countenance.

      ‘Welcome aboard, Miss Golding. If you will excuse me, I am needed on the quarterdeck.’

      When they were alone, Tobias stood still across the cabin, his eyes running over her swiftly, and there was something in their depths Rowena could not fathom.

      ‘And what brings you into the camp of the enemy with such urgency, Rowena?’

      She stared at him, the rush of familiar excitement causing her to become tongue tied, affected strongly as she was by the force of his presence. He was dressed in a brown leather sleeveless jerkin over his loose white shirt. Studying him, she was acutely aware of the strong arms where the shirt had been rolled up to the elbows, of the small area of chest exposed by the open neck of his shirt.

      Calming herself, she said, ‘I have come here on a matter of the greatest importance to me and my father.’

      The startling blue eyes rested on her ironically. ‘You have come to settle his debt?’

      She coloured hotly and shook her head. ‘No, I’m afraid not. I am here because I believe you are the only person who might be able to help us.’

      ‘Us?’

      Rowena could sense that he was wary, that his guard had been dropped just a little, but his steady gaze told her he was not going to make it easy for her.

      ‘Of what help could I possibly be to you and your father? Did he send you here to plead for him, to use your petty wiles?’ His voice was instantly terse.

      Rowena controlled her temper as he rested his hips on the edge of the table and folded his arms across his broad chest. He had not invited her to sit down, and she knew he was deliberately keeping her on tenterhooks until she told him the reason for her visit.

      ‘My father knows nothing of this visit. If he ever found out, he would flay me to within an inch of my life for sure.’

      A muscle twitched in his cheek. ‘Then what is it that only I can do to help you? My curiosity is aroused as to why you have sought me out on my ship without your father’s knowledge.’

      Confident that he would not turn her away without a hearing, Rowena moved towards him and looked at him directly to allow him to see the velvet softness of her long-lashed eyes. She meant to make use of every advantage she possessed.

      ‘What is it, Rowena?’

      She stopped just three feet from him. He was telling her he had no time to waste on pleasantries. He was busy with his own concerns, his manner said. She would be better served to state her case and be on her way.

      ‘You will know about the Petrel, the passenger vessel that was bound for the Scilly Isles and was attacked by pirates?’

      His jaw tightened. ‘I have heard. What of it?’

      ‘Are you not concerned?’

      He shrugged. ‘Not unduly. It happens all the time.’

      She drew a breath, steeling herself against his reaction. Her face was flushed as she realised she had never felt so unsure of herself. ‘This—is difficult for me.’

      He eyed her keenly, his brow puckered. ‘Really? In what way? I must ask you to state your business—I’ve not got all day.’

      ‘No, indeed,’ she said icily, finding it difficult to keep her temper under control, but knowing she must if she was to win him over. ‘You are a man of some importance and a reputation that most seamen must envy.’

      His eyes narrowed. ‘Let’s get to the point. I’m not a man who needs to be buttered up before he can be asked to do anything. Speak