Page 23 of The Black Lion
“My beautiful Bella,” he murmured. “Youaremine … but not because I’ve taken you as an act of revenge, and not to rub Will’s nose in my triumph, but because you love me.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but he pressed his finger over her lips with a smile. He was radiant when he did that, and it took Arabella’s breath away. His fingertip stroked along the curve of her lower lip.
“What I should have added earlier—for Will to hear from my own lips—is that I am yours, in the same way that you are mine. Because even when I thought you had chosen him over me, even when the thought of you letting him kiss and touch you made me want to commit murder, even when I was uncertain whether you had conspired with him to have me impressed … I couldn’t stop loving you. I couldn’t stop needing you. If kidnapping you and keeping you chained to my bed was what it took to make you mine again, I was willing to do it, even if it caused you to hate me.”
She took hold of his hand and kissed the palm, relief sweeping through her as she realized she’d been right to put her trust in him—inthem.
“I could never hate you.”
“Even when I use you to hurt Will as he has hurt me?” he whispered, hanging his head. “I should never have done it. I have no excuse to offer other than the fact that I haven’t trusted anyone except my crew for a long time. Will’s treachery made me question everything, but I was wrong to ever doubt you. I’d never forgive myself if what I did today destroys my second chance with you. Forgive me … please. If not now, then someday. I’m so sorry, Bella.”
Taking his head in her hands, Arabella raised it so he looked at her again. “Do you think I want this second chance any less than you do? I will not allow what Will has done to come between us. If you forgive me for almost marrying your brother, I will forgive you. Let this be the end of strife between us, Drew. I have missed you, I longed for you, and now you’ve found me again. I will not waste the time we’ve been given being angry or holding grudges.”
He pressed his forehead to hers with a heavy sigh. “Thank you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’ll earn it if you give me time.”
Kissing the tip of his nose, she offered him a smile. “It would seem you now have all the time in world in which to do so.”
He smirked, pushing the shirt off her other shoulder. The linen slithered down her body, leaving her completely nude. Desire lit in his gaze as he looked her over, lips parting on a low sound of raw, male need. Yet, he merely took her hand and guided her to the tub.
“Get in.”
Arabella obeyed, wincing at the sting when the water first made contact with her skin. As she submerged herself, sinking down until the water lapped at her chin, the tension and soreness melted away. She watched Drew remove his coat, then roll his shirtsleeves up to the elbow. Taking up a rough, wooden stool, he sat beside the tub with a cake of soap held in one hand.
Arabella allowed him to pluck one of her feet from the water, closing her eyes. The scent of roses and something spicy rose up from the water, titillating her senses.
“Rose and patchouli oils,” Drew said, answering the unspoken question of her deep inhales. “I thought you might like them.”
“They’re heavenly,” she murmured, groaning when his soap-slick hand kneaded her calf. “One would never think to find such luxuries on a pirate ship.”
“One would be surprised what years of plunder can make possible.”
The reminder of who he was now—what he had become—had Arabella opening her eyes to look at him. Drew’s focus remained on his ministrations, his hands caressing bubbles along her wet skin, fingers exerting firm, belly-fluttering pressure. The nautical star tattooed on his right hand snared her attention, glimmering beneath a coating of water and soap.
“Drew?”
“Yes?”
Clearing her throat, she ignored the bundle of nerves expanding in her belly. If they were to have some sort of future together, there were things she needed to know. Will’s admissions had only offered her part of the story. “Won’t you tell me what happened to you? Where have you been? We received word years ago that your ship was lost in a storm, and … I truly believed you dead.”
He lifted her arm out of the water, his hands freshly lathered with soap and working from shoulder to wrist. “TheHannibalwas, in fact, lost … but not in a storm. There was a mutiny, and she was set aflame and sunk.”
“Goodness,” she murmured.
“By me,” he added. “Me and Rory … the Irishman you met when you boarded the ship.”
Her mouth dropped open as she looked for any sign that he was lying or joking. She found none.
“You have to understand that life on a Royal Navy vessel isn’t the glorious adventure you might think,” he said, his voice taking on a biting edge. “Not even for a man who goes aboard one of those ships willingly. For a quadroon who had been impressed … well, let’s just say a trip to Hell would have been preferable.”
“I remember your letters, the few we received. You mentioned being half-starved from meager rations and sleeping in quarters that were either cold or stifling hot, and always damp. I wept for you, Drew. I hated to know you were suffering with no way out.”
“I could only have been set free from my term of service when our ship finished its campaign. I counted the days and weeks, and told myself I could survive it. Ihadto survive it, so I could get back to you.”
“I would have waited,” she told him, with every ounce of earnestness in her body. “I was willing to wait as long as it took.”
Drew squeezed his eyes shut as if pained and shook his head. “The commander of theHannibal… he was a particularly cruel and exacting master. His standards were impossible to maintain, and his punishments were severe. He was skilled with the cat o’ nine tails, cane, and birch rods, and used any excuse to wield them.”
Arabella pressed a hand to her mouth, feeling as if she’d be ill. “The scars on your back.”
