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choice but to run. Can you keep up?”
    The young lady nodded, though her eyes were huge.
    “Good,” he said. “Because I won’t carry you, and I have little interest in dragging a corpse across this marina.”
    She blanched but said nothing. He helped her off the ground and then peeked around the crates, looking for the safest route to the
Intrepid
. There was a rock large enough to shelter them about twenty yards away. Once they made it to the rock, it was probably another thirty yards or so to a cluster of trees that might give them enough protection to avoid taking a bullet. From there it was double that to the ship. Unfortunately there was nothing between the trees and the ship, so they’d be completely exposed once they began the final leg.
    Kolton yelled something that Phillip didn’t catch, though he prayed it was an order to load the cannons. He looked at the young woman crouching next to him and he began wrapping the chain around his wrist and arm to keep it out of the way. As he wound it tight, he ticked off their route. “Rock, trees, ship. Stay close to me and run hard. Don’t look back.”
    “Rock, trees, ship,” she repeated. “No looking back.”
    Phillip nodded and took her hand. “On three. Ready?”
    Mrs. Marshall took a deep breath and exhaled. She gathered her skirts high in her free hand. “Ready.”
    She was fleet of foot, thankfully, but when a bullet hit the sand in their path she shrieked and instinctively pulled in the opposite direction. Ignoring both the spray of sand and her shriek, he tightened his grip on her hand and yanked her forward. They closed in on the rock and Phillip dragged her down, landing on top of her as a bullet nicked the top of the boulder and scattered pebbles and dust across his neck and shoulders.
    For a moment, they just stared at each other, both coughing and gasping for air. He lifted himself off of her and helped her sit up. They huddled together side-by-side with their backs against the safety of the rock, legs pulled up tight, breathing heavily.
    Phillip glanced at her and leaned his head against the rock. “I’ve misjudged you, Mrs. Marshall,” he said between gulps of air.
    Another shot to their left kicked up sand in both their faces. As she brushed sand from her mouth and eyes, she asked, “You didn’t think I could keep up?”
    Phillip let his gaze fall on her bare legs. When he turned to look at her reddened cheeks, he raised a brow. “Your knees aren’t knobby at all.”
    “Reprobate,” she said under her breath, fumbling to cover her legs with her mess of skirts.
    “You’re the one who chained yourself to me,” he muttered in response. “When we get to the trees, stay as low as possible. Understand?” he asked, getting into position. She rose and yanked her skirts into her hand again. Then she nodded curtly.
    On his mark they ran again, pushing harder than the first time. Phillip ignored the bullets whizzing past him and pulled Mrs. Marshall along with as much force as he dared. Her arm was likely to be sore tomorrow. A shot narrowly missed his foot, and he could feel the impact of it in the sand beneath him. An instant later a volley of answering fire came from the ship, and he knew his crew was doing their best to keep them covered.
If only they could get the bloody cannons loaded faster
, he thought darkly. Another shot split the air between them, making Phillip more determined to reach the trees.
    Praying that the thick base of the trunks was cover enough for them, Phillip managed to duck behind the trees, dragging the young lady with him. This time he didn’t tackle Mrs. Marshall as much as pull her down into the circle of his arms in the semblance of an embrace. She leaned against him, panting and shaking, and Phillip froze. She felt warm and feminine and lithe. Tackling her would have been preferable to the oddly intimate position.
    At that moment, Mrs. Marshall took a deep, shuddering breath and looked up at him. “We were