Page 41 of Knot for Sale

The captain was waiting for us, overseeing the transfer personally. She didn’t appear pleased. A young kid in a steward’s uniform who looked like he was still in his teens was standing next to her. I recalled that Gabriel had told us Captain Carvalho didn’t speak much, if any, English.

“They’re taking the last load of luggage over now, sir,” said the kid, addressing Gabriel. He snuck a curious look at Emma, tucked against my side with her face hidden against my neck. I tried to glare back at him, and he looked away quickly.

We stood in awkward silence until the sound of an outboard motor drew our attention. A small, three-person dinghy pulled up to the edge of the swim deck, which had been lowered to a position a couple of feet above the waterline. Floodlights from both vessels illuminated the water between the Titania and the much smaller 40-foot sailboat anchored nearby, glinting off the gentle swells of the Aegean Sea.

The dinghy’s pilot tossed a rope to the young steward, who snugged the little vessel up tight to the edge of the deck. I got a brief impression of tawny skin and yellow-dyed hair as the newcomer grinned up at us. This had to be Onyx.

“Hey-ho, boss,” they greeted. “Fancy meeting you here. Ready to catch a lift?”

“More than ready,” Gabriel replied. “I assume it will take two trips?”

“Unless you feel like paddling along behind,” Onyx agreed, tossing up a pair of life vests. “Whoever’s going first, get these on.”

“We’ll go,” I said quickly. I wasn’t about to send Emma across without me, when there’d be nothing to stop the sailboat from taking off with her. I also wasn’t thrilled with the idea of us being left behind on the Titania without the protection of Gabriel’s presence—even for a few minutes.

God, this whole thing wassofucked up.

Gabriel only nodded and retrieved the life vests from the deck, helping me get one on Emma and then steadying her while I strapped mine in place. I didn’t miss the way she swayed into his personal space... or the barely audible possessive growl he failed to stifle in response.

Stepping into the rocking dinghy from the relative stability of the enormous yacht was terrifying. Watching as Gabriel handed an unsteady Emma down to my waiting arms was even worse.

“No worries, Rosebud,” Onyx told me. “We’ll get you two safely aboard theCalliopein no time. Then Curran wants a word.”

I held Emma tight against my side and didn’t reply. She was crying again—soft, agonized sobs that tore at my heart.

Faster than I expected, the dinghy sidled up to the back of the sailboat. There was no swim deck, only a short ladder. Onyx moored the little craft firmly to one of the rails, and a face peered down from above us.

I recognized Curran from our video call.

He gave Emma a quick once-over and frowned. “You’d better hand her up to me. Not sure I want her trying to climb a ladder on her own.”

It wasn’t much of a greeting, but I couldn’t exactly argue since I didn’t want her climbing a ladder either. Onyx and I supported Emma and helped her reach up to where Curran grasped her wrists, lifting her onto the sailboat as though she weighed nothing.

This close to the dinghy’s Australian pilot, I caught a whiff of clean spruce and bayberry, my stupid omega instincts immediately relaxing in response to alpha pheromones without a hint of anger, fear, or stress in them.

Dragging my head on straight, I climbed up behind Emma, accepting a steadying hand from the middle-aged male alpha at the top as I clambered onto the deck.

“Get ’em settled, yeah?” Onyx called up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with the bossman.”

“Don’t drop him overboard,” Curran called back, deadpan.

Subtle amber and myrrh replaced Onyx’s clean forest scent as the wind shifted. My brain was performing a series of wholly unwelcome flip-flops, and I couldn’t afford that, damn it.

“Thanks for doing this,” I said cautiously, aware that it was in both our interests to keep these alphas well-disposed toward us.

“Thank us in a few days, if we manage to get her through this shit untraumatized,” Curran said. “Come down to the cabin, Elijah. Let’s get her as comfortable as we can. Then you can tell me what she decided.”

Without ceremony, Curran scooped Emma into his arms and led the way toward the bow. She was still crying, but she clung to him like a limpet and buried her face in his neck as though she’d known him for years.

Or... as though she was scenting him. Christ, she wasscentinghim.

I hurried after them.

The staircase leading belowdecks was narrow and steep, but Curran eased Emma’s body sideways and didn’t so much as bump her ankles against anything. I followed them down, passing by a compact galley and dining area to a larger space bounded by built-in seating.

The entire living area had been strewn with pillows, cushions, and blankets of all description. I came to an abrupt halt, staring, as Curran waded through the profusion of soft goods and lowered Emma into a protected corner where two of the built-in couches met.

The scents hit me an instant later. Bayberry and spruce, amber and myrrh—infusing the blankets, the pillows, and sundry articles of clothing that had been draped over the backs of the couches.

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