Page 18 of The Black Lion
“She will never be yours,” he ground out as he took up his lamp and made for the stairs, casting them back into darkness.
He stomped up the stairs, agitation firing his blood. Will’s words had the intended effect, and now his mind filled with images of his brother with Arabella—touching her, undressing her, helping himself to her delicious little body. Shaking his head as he cleared the bilge and came up through the forecastle, he told himself he had been right to call Will a liar. He was as easy to read as ever, and had given himself away the moment he’d opened his mouth.
So, now you know for certain she had nothing to do with their plan to do away with you. But what of the rest of it? Did she give herself to him?
He wanted to believe she hadn’t. He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, even as he found himself enraged with her for even agreeing to marry Will. However, it didn’t escape him that one of these grievances was worse than the other.
Did it matter whether she had given her body to Will? That, he might have forgiven her for, but she’d been willing to give him far more than that. Her heart, her soul, her entire self. It would have all belonged to Will until death did them part. It was this knowledge that tormented Drew most, for what was a maidenhead but a bit of flesh
No, it wasn’t that she might have given Will her body that infuriated him so—though he did not relish knowing it. He didn’t think he could ever forgive her being willing to pledge her life, heart, and soul to another man. Not just any man, but his own brother.
Hands clenched so tight that his fingernails bit into his palms, Drew stormed toward his cabin. Despite his exhaustion and sleepless night, he wouldn’t be able to rest until he heard what Bella had to say for herself.
Even feeling as if he might never forgive or trust her again, he couldn’t deny the possessiveness surging through him—a wholly intoxicating and unreasonable resolution.
Bella was his for better or worse now, and no matter what she’d done, he would never relinquish his hold on her.
Chapter Five
Arabella was greeted that morning by a boy with nut-brown skin named Little Jack. He declared himself Drew’s cabin boy and informed her that she was to be untied for breakfast. Little Jack didn’t speak much, cleaning the cabin and preparing for the captain’s morning toilette while Arabella opted to sit at Drew’s desk to have her breakfast.
She felt better after a night of rest and a filling breakfast of bacon, hardtack, porridge, slices of the oranges fresh from Jamaica’s lush jungle, and a pewter mug of coffee sweetened with a cube of sugar. The boy offered warm water for washing, and she was about to avail herself to it as best she could while still restricted in her stays—but her curiosity over Drew’s life as a pirate captain had averted her. She couldn’t help the urge to search his desk, pushing aside charts and maps and various nautical tools to seek out any items of personal interest.
Who had Drew become? Was he as ruthless and heartless as most pirates were rumored to be? How many men had he killed in his quest for wealth? Was he the sort to rape and murder as well as steal? Did he have a lover waiting for him somewhere?
All these questions drove her to seek out any personal mementos or clues to the man who had kidnapped her. The man she still loved with all her heart, even if he now despised her. She’d just come upon a chest filled with odd and foreign-looking objects, when the door flew open. Arabella flinched when it crashed against the wall. Her captor stood on the threshold with one hand braced on the frame, his lion’s eyes locked on her. He had done away with his frock coat and hat, making his torso appear broader and harder through the open shirt draping his form.
Her belly erupted in a flurry of butterflies, and the chest fell onto the massive desk with a loud ‘thunk.’ She couldn’t interpret the look in his eye, which made fear and anticipation curl within her gut in equal measure.
However, he didn’t seem to notice the chest or her place behind his desk. He had eyes only for her, fire blazing in the depths. She stood frozen in his thrall, hands shaking as she tried to force her legs to move. But where was she to go? Even if she could get past him and out of the cabin, they were at sea with nowhere for her to run.
Did she truly wish to run from him? While this new side of his nature frightened her, the part of her that loved him wanted to be in his clutches no matter what pain it might cause her.
“On the bed,” he snapped while yanking the tails of his shirt free of his breeches. “Now.”
His sharp command propelled her into motion, as she could see it would be unwise to resist or further annoy him. As she stumbled toward the bed, it dawned on her that he hadn’t returned to the cabin last night. Something had happened since then to anger him. Did it have to do with her and Will?
Her racing thoughts came to a screeching halt as he straightened from removing his boots, his entire torso now bared to her view. The elusive tattoo was now on full display, illuminated by the light streaming through the bay of windows open to allow in fresh, salty air. It was the head of a lion, large and encompassing his entire chest, its mane lustrous, its maw open to bare sharp teeth in a ferocious snarl.
She gasped at both the beauty and brutality of him half-clothed, the hard-packed muscles defined by deep lines. Thick, prominent veins pushed against his skin along his forearms, and the line of dark hair trailing down into his breeches held golden strands just like the mop of his hair. Those intriguing, rope-like tendrils hung down his back uninhibited, as wild and feral as the rest of him.
“C-captain?” she stammered, trembling as he approached, prowling toward her with swift, long strides. “What …”
“Did you fuck him?”
She flinched as if he’d roared at her, when his voice had actually come out on a low whisper. Still, the words struck her as heavy with accusation and pain. Shaking her head in denial, she backed away from his advance, coming up short against the headboard. The golden figurehead of the lion pressed between her shoulder blades.
“No, I … I couldn’t bring myself to, no matter how he pressed me. I only ever kissed him, and even then it did not feel right. It never felt right, because he wasn’t the man I wanted. He wasn’tyou.”
A low growl emitted from deep in Drew’s chest as he climbed onto the bed. Taking hold of her ankle, he dragged her toward him. He spread his legs to straddle her, then knelt upright, unbucklimg his gunbelt. The leather hissed through the buckle, then the weapons he wore fell to the bed—a wicked-looking cutlass and a pair of matching flintlocks.
“As angry as I am, you will only make matters worse if you seek to placate me with falsehood.”
Uncertainty and fear melted away, and in its place Arabella experienced a swift surge of righteous anger. She could understand his resentment at having found her in Will’s arms, or seeing them at the altar about to be wed. However, now that he had the chance to learn the truth from her own lips, he would still call her a liar? What need had she to lie to him?
Surging into a seated position, she nearly came up against his chest as he seemed determined not to back down.
“You have been away from Falmouth forfive years! How can you presume to know what took place in your absence? I do not know what has gone on between you and Will, but I would think you could trust me, at least!”
