Page 22 of An Imperfect Scoundrel

Alana exhaled slowly, then nodded. “Yes.”

With a quick swipe, Mrs. Parker sliced through Alana’s hair, cutting the strands at the nape of her neck. Red hair tumbled around Alana’s face, framing her jaw with loose waves of fire. Mrs. Parker dropped the knife on the bed, stuffed Alana’s hair into the empty sack, then dropped the bag back into the trunk. Glancing down at the pile of clothing, she picked through the shirts.

“These are too small for me, Mrs. Dubois, however, Hugh’s clothing will fit. I shall dash to my cabin and retrieve them. When I return, you can cut my hair.”

Shouts echoed from the deck, followed by another explosion. Gunshots reverberated down the corridor. Alana grabbed Mrs. Parker’s wrist.

“It’s too dangerous.”

“They will not believe me a man if I’m wearing a skirt, Mrs. Dubois, even if my hair is short.” She extracted herself from Alana’s grip and crossed the room. Unlocking the door, Mrs. Parker peered around the edge, her eyes scanning the corridor, then she peeked back at Alana.

“Get dressed. I shall return in two minutes.”

Mrs. Parker slipped through the small space and closed the door softly behind her.

Alana crept across the room, pressing her face to the door, listening for Mrs. Parker, and nodded when she heard the faint click of the other woman’s cabin door. After a moment of debate, Alana locked her door, then returned to the bed and snagged a shirt and a pair of trousers from the stack of clothes.

The floor vibrated like thunder rolling across the sky. Boots thudded into the corridor, stopping at the first cabin door, which slammed open, crashing into the wall.

A scream followed, and horrific laughter crept into Alana’s cabin.

They had run out of time.

Hastily ripping off her dress and petticoats, Alana yanked the trousers up her legs. The door to the second cabin flew open.

Another scream… and arguing.

From the words floating under Alana’s door, she assumed one man was a pirate, and the other had no intention of following that man anywhere. Their voices rose, joined by a third, deeper voice. A gunshot rang out, then silence.

The third cabin door crashed open, followed by the fourth.

Only two more rooms…

Pulling the shirt over her head, she shoved all the clothing into the trunk and covered the sack of discarded hair. She closed the lid as quietly as possible, leaning her weight on the top until the lock caught.

Where was the key?

Her eyes skated over the room searching for a small flash of metal. Something gleamed on the bed. Rising, she plucked the penny knife from the mattress, and gripped the handle, her knuckles whitening under the strain.

The door beside hers burst open, smashing the wall, and a shriek escaped Alana’s lips. Clamping her hand over her mouth, she sank her teeth into her palm, swallowing the scream. She crept across the floor and pressed herself against the wall beside her door.

The handle rattled.

Her trembling fingers gripped the knife, tightening, and she raised her arm.

There was nowhere to hide.

“I heard you breathing,” a raspy voice whispered through the door. “I know you’re in there.”

“Then come get me,” she hissed.

“With pleasure,” the voice replied.

The door folded inward, disintegrating into pieces, and the long blade of a sword slid into the room.

Waiting until the man’s wrist was visible, Alana grabbed him and yanked him forward, swinging the knife downward at the same moment. The blade slid through the air and stopped short of embedding itself in the man’s face.

Capturing her hand, the man twisted her arm behind her back, squeezing until she dropped the knife, which hit the floor with a thud and skittered away, stopping against the side of her trunk.