“Mrs. Huntar.”

Jennet scooped up the paper and pressed it to her breast. “Yes, Father O'Neill?”

“What have you got there?”

She came forward. “My handkerchief. The breeze took it from me.”

“Yes, the weather is turning.” He stood, his form straight and steady, watching the western sky where ships' masts would be visible in the daylight. “They will have the wind they need tomorrow for their attack.”

She made a sound that was meant to be agreeable but came out more like a squeak of distress.

“Your concern for your charges is admirable, Mrs. Huntar, but sure and you must not credit the horror stories you hear of the prison ships at Halifax. They will be adequately looked after.”

Jennet hummed again, thankful to have been so misunderstood. While the priest talked on in his soothing voice about the prisoners and their transport and trust in God, Jennet's mind was working madly. She had no idea what was in the note, whether she was meant to meet Luke somewhere in the next few minutes or take word to Hannah, but there was nothing for her to do but to wait until the priest had talked himself out.

“Let me tell you something more about the Grey Nuns,” he said.

Jennet's palm cramped around the rumpled paper with its precious, invisible words. She would be able to read them in the light of the lanterns at the main gate, she reasoned to herself. Unless the priest decided to walk her to the followers' camp, which would be a disaster. That unpleasant thought had just presented itself when Jennet realized that he was waiting for some word from her.

“Until tomorrow, then,” he said. In the faint light from the lantern she saw that he seemed not so much affronted by her lack of attention as vaguely amused.

“Yes, of course. Good night,” Jennet said, and turned toward the gates.

“Mrs. Huntar?”

She paused. “Father?”

“Your confessor will need to hear about what happened here this evening. Your temper must be brought under control.”

Jennet had the almost ungovernable urge to laugh aloud. She bit her lip. “Of course,” she said, and then disappeared thankfully into the dark.

“Where is Hannah?” It was the first thing out of Luke's mouth once he found her in the copse of pines at the far northern end of the island, just beyond the followers' camp. The air was cool here, ripe with river water and gathering dew.

“In the stockade, of course,” Jennet said. She pulled her shawl more tightly around herself. “There is one patient in very poor condition.” As of yet there had been no chance to tell Luke about Liam Kirby, but now was not the time, Jennet reasoned.

She said, “We've been frantic with worry.”

His tone gave away his smile. “Not frantic, surely.” His hand settled on the nape of her neck and his head bent forward so that she felt his breath there. “I've seen you frantic, girl, don't forget.”

“You are shameless,” Jennet said, but she could not bring herself to step away from him, not even when he put his mouth to the curve of her neck and used his teeth.

“What of tomorrow?” she said, leaning back against him. “What of the plans? You have plans, don't you?”

“Plans.” He pressed the corner of her mouth with his thumb and she half turned into his kiss, helpless as ever. “I have plans for you, little nun.”

When she could speak she said, “But what—”

He kissed her again, his hands moving fitfully over her back, up from her waist to the curve of her breasts. Jennet heard herself whimper into his mouth.

“Luke,” she said as firmly as she could.

He said, “There's nothing to do until tomorrow. Let them march the prisoners onto the ship, and things will follow from there.”

Jennet hiccupped a laugh and caught his hands, held them still against her. “Wait. Do I understand? You plan to hijack the ship?”

Luke pushed out a sigh and put his mouth to her ear. “Don't be ridiculous. I am a merchant of high standing and impeccable reputation. I don't play at pirates.” Then he grinned at her like a boy.

“Oh, dear,” Jennet said. “This will be messy, I fear.”

“Not if you do as I ask,” he said in a more serious tone. “The important thing is that you should all get on the ship without fuss. Make sure the men aren't planning any revolt. It would only work against them.”

“We should tell them what is to come, then?”

“Tell them to go peacefully, and to be ready.”

Jennet's heart was beating very fast, with excitement and dread both. She said, “There are some patients who are in very poor condition.”

“Have the others carry them,” Luke said. “No matter what, they must all be on the ship. All of you must be on the ship. All of you.” His hands tightened on her, and his breath moved her hair so that gooseflesh rose all along Jennet's back.

“I can't be with them. I'm supposed to be going to Montreal with Father O'Neill; you heard them at supper. I thought I could simply walk away from the convent—”

“No.” His hands tightened on her. “You'll tell him you've had a change of heart. Tell him Hannah needs you. Tell him you can't leave the sick men.”

“It would be un-Christian of me,” Jennet said, canting her head up for his kiss.

Luke smoothed her hair away from her face. “Unless you would rather go for a nun.”