Page 13 of The Black Lion
She melted against him, commanded to submission in his arms with such ease. Arabella wanted him to hold and kiss her, to tell her they would be together again now that he’d found her.
But she saw no such intent in his eyes, the wild, feral glint hinting at something far more nefarious.
“I told you not to call me that,” he snapped, leaning down until their lips almost touched. “It is ‘Captain’ to you, and everyone else on board this ship. Do you understand?”
She shook her head slowly, brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of this man who was now a stranger to her.
“What in God’s name happened to you? Won’t you tell me anything? I’ve missed you so much, and I—”
He shook her until her teeth rattled, forcing her silence. “Enough. You needn’t think your pretty, false words will cause me to treat you any differently, because they won’t. Your father and your fuckingfiancéare now my prisoners. You, my little temptress, are to be a guest in my cabin. You will do what I say when I say, and without hesitation, or you’ll not like the consequences.”
Arabella’s mouth fell open as she grappled with the meaning of all he had just said. He thought her a liar for claiming to have missed him? Had he any idea how she’d suffered for thinking him lost to her forever?
“My words are not false,Captain. I have walked about as if half-dead since you were taken. My greatest wish has been that you would return to me, even as I knew you never would.”
He seemed momentarily taken aback by her words, blinking like a wide-eyed owl and staring at her incredulously. Then, his expression hardened, and he released her right wrist while lifting the left one between them.
Inclining his head toward the large, gaudy ring William had slid onto her finger the night of their engagement, Drew sneered. “Explain this.”
Arabella’s looked to the betrothal ring weighing down her left hand, a piece she’d never cared for but that had belonged to Will’s grandmother. It had meant a lot to him to see her wearing it, so Arabella had hidden her dislike of the ancient, heavy piece and worn it for him. Now, it damned her.
What Drew must think, to have returned to Falmouth on the day she was to wed someone else. Not just any ‘someone’; his own brother. Now, she understood the anger radiating from him in hot, tangible waves, the heat in his narrowed eyes as he looked at the ring as if he could obliterate it into dust with only his stare.
“I can explain this,” she whispered, her voice shaky with guilt and trepidation. “Drew, I would have never—”
“Betrayed me with my own brother?” he snapped, flinging her hand away as if he could hardly stand to touch her any longer. “But you did, and I saw it clearly enough—you standing at the altar with him, wearinghisring, vowing to honor and obey. It felt a lot like betrayal to me.”
He snapped his mouth shut then, his gaze traveling somewhere beyond her. She glanced over her shoulder to find that half the crew had halted amid their duties, mesmerized by the sight of their captain arguing with a slip of a woman in wilted silk.
Some gazes swept over her with contempt and suspicion, while a few blazed with interest and lust as they lingered on her exposed cleavage. A deep, ominous growl emanated from Drew, and his arm lashed around her arm again, pulling her back against his body.
“This is Miss Arabella Baines, a guest ofThe Sea Lion. The lot of you will keep your eyes down and your hands to yourself while she’s aboard, or you’ll answer to me.”
Rounds of ‘aye, Cap’n’ rippled through the men, and Drew barked, “Get back to work!” as he whirled and continued guiding her toward the quarterdeck, under which the captain’s cabin was located. Arabella was momentarily taken aback by what she found as he threw the door open, her lips parting on a sigh of wonder.
A cove of mullioned windows allowed in the light of the moon, which combined with the blaze of several lamps and tallow candles to set the cabin aglow with warm, golden light. The space had been opulently turned out in the Oriental style, inky black and glittering gold mingling together in a chamber fit for a king. The plush rugs beneath her feet were etched with floral patterns and scrolls, with the heads of snarling lions staring up at her. The wild cats were everywhere—carved into the front of his heavy, black-lacquered desk, staring at her from the tapestries hanging from the walls, and even from the heavily adorned armoire edged with hand-worked gilt. A painting of a lion rising out of the sea had been painted onto the surface of a dining table long enough to seat ten, with heavy-looking, black and gold upholstered chairs bolted to the floor around it.
The true masterpiece of the chamber was the bed. An enormous black affair hung with gold damask curtains, it sat on a raised platform in the center of the room, its black and gold counterpane turned down invitingly. Snarling from the headboard was the golden figurehead of yet another lion, a match for the one jutting beneath the bowsprit of the ship. Upon closer inspection, Arabella realized jewels had been mounted into the eye sockets of the sculpture—golden topaz, she believed.
Slamming the door, Drew released her long enough to shrug out of his coat and take off his hat, hanging them both on wooden pegs.
Then, he took hold of her again. Arabella’s legs nearly gave out as she noticed they neared that massive bed. She had hoped they would speak now, and some sort of explanation would be in order—but one glance at the heavy bulge swelling at the front of his breeches told her that talk was the very last thing on Drew’s mind.
“Wait,” she whispered as he swung her around and pressed her against one of the posts. “Wait!”
With a sneer, Drew began plucking the pins free of her wig, letting them fall noiselessly to the rug. He snatched the confection of curls and ribbon from her head and hurled it across the room. Then, he divested her of the muslin cap constricting her own hair—a mass of brown coils that came tumbling free to surround her face.
He gave her a grin, but it was more like the grimace of the golden lion bonded to his headboard. “I detest the sight of you in such frippery. I prefer you the way you truly are.”
Before giving her a chance to respond, he began using his shirtsleeve to swipe at the rouge staining her lips and cheeks. He wasn’t gentle about it, leaving Arabella’s lips swollen and her cheeks hot when he’d finished, the pink stains marring his sleeve.
Before she could blink, he drew a dagger from his belt, arcing it toward her with motions that left her breathless. She screamed, but then clamped her lips around the sound when she realized the blade had not so much as touched her flesh. The sides of her bodice fell slack, pins sent scattering across the floor and her stomacher fluttering to her feet. She sucked in swift, sharp breaths and tried to calm her racing heart. He wasn’t going to hurt her—at least not yet. He seemed intent on toying with her, the golden pools of his eyes glowing in the light of the tapers, his lips parting on rasping breaths as he pressed the tip of the knife against her collarbone.
Arabella held as still as possible, feeling for herself that the blade was so sharp, if she much as sneezed he would draw her blood.
Drew stroked the knife along her skin, using it to push the garment off one shoulder, then caressing the sharp edge to the other side. The bodice fell off her shoulders and to the rug in a heap. Prying her away from the bedpost, he spun her to face it, then pushed her against the lacquered wood. The knife kissed between her shoulder blades, then over the laces of her stays, though he did not slice them. Instead, he focused on the strings tying up her outer petticoat, pushing the puffy folds of the garment off her. Despite the tension and fear keeping her on edge, she couldn’t deny the relief of being free from the garments.
Arabella clung to the bedpost as he tore away the bumroll she’d worn to add volume to her skirts, as well as three layers of petticoats. Dropping to one knee, he snatched off her shoes and hurled them against the wall, making her flinch at the sound they made when they struck the tapestry-covered wood.
