Page 16 of The Black Lion
Drew’s thundering voice made it difficult to steer her mind away from the memory of him standing over her with his legs braced wide, those long ropes of brown hair kissed with gold hanging over his shoulders and into his eyes. Arabella bit her lip, recalling the spark in his stare as she lapped at his cock, and the deep groans of his satisfaction when she’d begun sucking him. His profane mutterings as he’d fucked her mouth, the musky scent of him, the feel of him hot and hard against her tongue … all of it was enough to have her squirming where she sat, pressing her thighs together to stifle the pulsations there.
The ship lurched, picking up speed as it cut through the Atlantic, swaying in a comforting, mind-numbing motion. Through the open window, she could hear the men calling back and forth to one another, Drew’s orders loudest of all. She thought of Will and her father, wondering how they fared in what Drew had referred to as ‘the bilge’. She assumed that must be some place belowdecks, and hoped they weren’t too uncomfortable.
But then, she remembered Drew’s assumption that she was lying and the pain and humiliation he’d decided Will and her father deserved. Furrowing her brow, Arabella tried to think through the haze of exhaustion. If Drew hadn’t been dead all this time, then who sent word to Falmouth that his ship had gone down with all hands? Will had confirmed it himself when she’d asked, and what reason had he to lie?
What reason, indeed?
The nefarious thought had her craning her neck to stare at the heavy ring weighing down her left hand.
Will was the truest friend she’d ever had besides Drew, and Arabella could never think of a time she had caught him in a lie. This was why she found it so difficult to believe he might have known all along that Drew had not gone down with theHMS Hannibal.
Arabella shook her head and sighed, too tired to puzzle it out. She had hardly slept the night before her wedding for being so anxious, and what was supposed to have been her wedding night being dragged through the jungle. Just now, she had a difficult time keeping her eyes open. As sleep claimed her, Arabella gave herself over to her fate and prayed that all would be revealed before Drew did something he might regret. Despite his cruelty toward her, she had to believe there was a reason. He would never act in such away unless he thought it justified. She knew him well enough to believe that wholeheartedly.
A voice in the back of her mind whispered that perhaps she’d never really known him at all. She ignored it, certain she had never known anyone as she did Drew. Everything would work out in the end. If she was going to make it through this, Arabella would have to hold on to her faith in him.
Drew spentwhat was left of the night on the deck ofThe Sea Lion, relieving this man or that man on watch since he was too restless to return to his cabin and sleep. While spending in Arabella’s mouth had eased his torrential desires temporarily, he had been distracted while guiding the crew through casting off. His gaze frequently strayed to the quarterdeck, below which his little captive remained with her wrists bound to the bed. While he could have trusted Rory with the ship, he wouldn’t abandon his crew so he could lock himself away with Arabella to have a proper taste of his personal prize.
These men had risked their lives to help him earn his revenge. He owed it to them to always put the crew, andThe Sea Lion, first.
But, as the sun broke free of the horizon, coffee and bacon scented smoke from the galley began floating through the air. Drew realized his time of respite was over. He had to confront his past, and that meant dealing with his other two prisoners.
Rory appeared from the galley holding two steaming tin mugs. Drew accepted his portion of strong, black coffee. The bitter brew jolted his senses, its aroma helping pull him back from the brink of exhaustion.
“Mornin’, Cap’n,” Rory murmured between sips. “Spent yer whole night up here, did ye?”
“My ship, my right to spend the night wherever the fuck I want.”
Instead of being cowed by his irritability, Rory merely laughed. Rory always laughed. “I take this to mean ye didn’t help yerself to the pretty lassie waitin’ in yer quarters. Had I a wee thing like her all to meself, I’d go balls-deep in her and not come out until I heard the cry o’ land ho!”
Drew glowered at Rory, annoyed that the man had touched on exactly what he wanted to do. Only one night aboard his ship, and Arabella already had him wanting to shirk his duties as well as his vendetta.
“I haven’t yet decided whether she’s a liar or a victim … but I intend to find out.ThenI’ll lock myself in that cabin with her and you can command the ship until I emerge.”
Rory gave him a wide, wicked grin, the wind tousling his brassy curls. “I’ll try not to die o’ envy in the meantime. Any orders before ye go below, Cap’n? She’s tackin’ at nine knots and makin’ good time.”
“Keep a weather eye for the Royal Navy. You can be sure they’ve already made chase. It’s only a matter of time.”
“And other ships?”
“Send for me if you see anything worth pursuing. And by worth pursuing, I mean sitting low in the water and easy to overtake—I know the men want their plunder, but it would be best for us to return home and lay low for a bit.”
“As you say, Cap’n.”
Taking a gulp of his coffee, Drew went in direction of the forecastle stairs, but paused and turned back.
“Have Little Jack take breakfast to my guest. Now that we’re out to sea, she can be untied.”
Rory called out for Little Jack, his cabin boy and son of his bosun, Big Jack. Drew continued on his way, stopping off in the crew quarters to borrow a lamp. It lit his way down through the hull and into the deepest, dankest space of the ship. The bilge served no function other than to be a cesspool of leakage and a stench that would singe a man’s nostril hairs.
From the low-hanging beams hung his two prisoners, wrists trapped in irons and arms stretched high overhead. Both their coats had been removed, and their shirts were now dingy from sweat and grime. Will’s wig lay in a puddle on the floor, his dark brown hair a stringy mess about his face. Archibald was drenched in sweat, his face pale and drawn. The old man seemed to have fallen asleep despite his uncomfortable position, his legs given out and his stockings soaked from inches of dirty water pooling beneath them. Will was wide awake and watching Drew’s every move with suspicion, fear, and a subtle glint of anger in his eyes.
“Gentlemen,” Drew boomed. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the hospitality of my ship thus far.”
Archibald startled, his snores breaking off on a snort, watery eyes darting left to right before landing on Drew.
“Drew,” Will snapped. “This barbaric treatment is ridiculous and completely unnecessary. If you—”
The resounding thud of the back of Drew’s hand across Will’s face echoed through the bilge, and the other man swung from his restraints, feet scrabbling for purchase. He narrowed his eyes at Will, who righted himself and shook his head, lapping at the blood oozing from the corner of his mouth.
