Page 42 of The Black Lion
He had spent their first few days on the island visiting with the families of his crew, seeing to their needs and ensuring they were all satisfied with their shares of the latest haul. Then, he met with the council of captains to discuss matters of import to the residents of the island. Another afternoon saw him closed away in his study with the men who captained his other ships, each of them bringing him a report of their latest voyages and the shares owed to him as their admiral.
While he was about this, Arabella would wander the house, taking note of the changes she wanted to make and the décor she would purchase to cover empty walls and surfaces. Drew had given her carte blanche to buy and trade to her heart’s content, and the knowledge that she was the wife of The Black Lion afforded Arabella anything she could ask for.
When he wasn’t about his business, Drew was showing her some new part of the island, making her fall thoroughly in love with every square inch. They rode horses along the shore and swam in crystal clear waters. They sunbathed nude near the little lagoon on their property, with Drew confident no one would come upon them. As it turned out, this was why his skin had taken on the deep bronzed cast from head to toe. Arabella was well on her way to catching up to him in that regard.
This morning, he had joined the crew of one of his ships in careening—a practice she’d learned was necessary for the maintenance of a ship fresh home from sea. It was quite an undertaking, with the ship being attached to a system of ropes and pullies and turned over on its side to have its hull scraped clean of barnacles and debris.
Arabella had sat to watch the process for about an hour before growing restless. Drew sent her off under the guard of his men, something he had insisted on from the beginning.
“My name should be enough to protect you, but this is still an island overrun with criminals,” he insisted. “When you are away from me, you’ll be escorted by no less than two of my men.”
She had to admit her escort came in handy, carrying her purchases and otherwise ensuring she wasn’t accosted by anyone. For the most part, the residents of the island—pirate or otherwise—were merely curious about her. Many had been introduced to her at the party, and she smiled and greeted many of them as she moved from stall to stall.
Arabella found herself suddenly hungry, but couldn’t quite decide what she might want to eat. All the fruits and sweetmeats she’d just bought looked delicious, but none appealed. The smell of something being baked called to her, and she sniffed the air, searching for the source of the aroma.
Arabella’s mouth began to water as she picked up the scent of spices and perhaps something buttery. Whatever it was, she wanted it, and could hardly think past her trembling stomach. The two men scrambled to catch up with her, toting baskets and sacks filled with her goods. Holding up the hem of her skirt, she made her way toward a stall on the end of the row, where smoke wafted from a cookfire. It was where the smell was coming from.
She had nearly reached it when something slammed into her shoulder, throwing her off balance. Arabella’s arms wheeled as she stumbled, though one of Drew’s men quickly righted her, hands firm on her shoulders as he ensured she kept on her feet.
“Are you all right?” he asked, while his companion glared in the direction of the thing—or rather, the person—that had knocked into her.
“Watch where you’re going!” the second guard bellowed at the retreating back of a man.
Arabella frowned and watched him go, pushing through the crowd as if he were in a hurry. He peered over his shoulder from beneath the shadow of a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes. A thick overgrowth of dark hair grew on his jaw, but his mouth … there was something familiar about it.
He was quickly swallowed up in the crowd, and Arabella blinked, certain she was going out of her mind. She’d seen very little of the stranger who had likely bumped into her by accident. Shaking her head, she turned back to the stall in question. Behind it, there was a slender woman with the leathery, brown skin of an island native. There were pies of some kind cooking on palm leaves arranged over the hot coals of her fire. Whatever they were filled with smelled heavenly, and Arabella’s belly quivered as she stared down at the fresh batch laid in neat rows ready to be purchased.
The wizened woman noticed Arabella staring and grinned, revealing several missing teeth. She smiled back as the woman got to her feet and approached, offering one of the fresh pastries on a palm leaf to her.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t … let me pay for it.”
The woman shook her head and thrust the pie at Arabella, dark eyes twinkling with mirth. “Eat. Good for mama.”
Arabella was too busy enjoying the first bite to have noticed the native woman’s words. It wasn’t until she swallowed what turned out to be a filling of spiced lamb and vegetables that she blinked, realizing what had just been said.
Frowning, she looked to the old woman, who nodded encouragingly. “Good?”
“Yes,” Arabella mumbled, licking buttery crumbs off her lips. “Um … I beg your pardon, but I’m not a ‘mama.’ Not yet, anyway.”
The gap-toothed smile appeared again as the woman reached one long arm out, a thin finger poking at Arabella’s bodice. She froze, unable to believe what was happening as the old woman prodded at a breast.
“Swollen here,” she said with a decisive nod before playfully tapping Arabella’s nose. “And smelling everything, yes? You smell and come here to eat. Smells made you hungry.”
Arabella’s eyes widened as she glanced down at the pie, which she’d bitten into without even investigating what might be inside it. The hunger driving her had been unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
Taking another bite, she chewed thoughtfully and narrowed her eyes. She’d been so caught up in enjoying married life and settling into the island, Arabella hadn’t noticed that her monthly courses should have come weeks ago. She swallowed, lips pulling into a smile as she met the older woman’s eyes.
“My God,” she whispered with a shake of her head, eyes pricking with happy tears. “I’m pregnant.”
“Yes,” the woman agreed, going back to her stall and coming back with a parcel of more of the small pies wrapped in palm leaves. “Have more. Must eat and rest to make strong baby.”
Arabella accepted the pies, waving over one of her guards. “I insist you let me offer you payment. For your kindness as well as your delicious pies. Please.”
Arabella’s new friend seemed opposed to the idea, but grudgingly held her hand out to the guard rifling around the sack he carried. Her face lit up as he came out with a pouch of tobacco. Apparently, this was an acceptable gift to exchange for the pies, and she tucked the pouch under her arm as she resumed her place within the stall. Arabella nodded her thanks and pilfered another one of the pies before surrendering the rest to be stowed away. She reached the end of the row of stalls and halted, glancing left and right to decide where to go next.
The clatter of wagon wheels and horse’s hooves warned her seconds before she was nearly run down by a vehicle approaching too fast. She reared backward to allow it passage, separating herself from her guards. Turning in a swift circle and searching for them, she wasn’t prepared for the rough hand that fastened on her arm, or the clap of a hand over her nose and mouth. By the time the cart cleared the lane, Arabella had been dragged around the corner and out of sight of her guards. Her half-eaten pie lay in the dirt where she’d left it, forgotten.
When Arabella openedher eyes again, she became aware of a splitting pain in her head. With a soft groan, she groped through her hair for the source. Images and memories swam through her mind as she recalled being accosted at the market, a hand muffling her cries as she was dragged away from Drew’s men. With the wagon separating them, she doubted they’d witnessed her abduction.
