Page 45 of The Black Lion
Now, a deathly calm had fallen over him, freezing over like a glacier. The single force driving him to draw breath beat a resounding cadence of bloodlust in his chest. Whoever had taken Arabella from him would suffer before his death. His accomplices would be strung up by their balls and gutted. Their ships would be sent to the bottom of the ocean after he had ravaged them with cannon and fire. Only when he had her back in his arms could he give in to the emotions threatening to weaken him. He couldn’t afford to let his feelings get the best of him, not yet. Not with Arabella’s life hanging in the balance.
“What are your orders, Captain?” Nadège asked, appearing at his left side. She was a bright splash of royal blue against the morning sky, her frock coat trimmed in gold, her tricorn sporting a jaunty purple plume.
“Chainshot to the masts and sails,” he replied. “We don’t know which ship Bella is on and until we do, I want then incapacitated, not sunk.”
Rory was at his right, a blunderbuss held over one shoulder. He had been as much in a lather over Arabella’s kidnapping as Drew had been. Even now, his face was still red with wrath, flushed to the roots of his hair.
“And once she’s secure?” he prodded.
“Sink them,” Drew snarled, grip tightening on his cutlass until his knuckles ached. “Sink them all.”
They went off to relay his orders, and Drew remained where he stood, eyes watering with the need to blink as he kept his stare leveled on the ship at the center of a formation of five. Royal Navy ships flying the Union Jack, just as he’d been told. Four ships of the line sailed in perfect formation around the central vessel. Instinct told him Arabella was being held on that center ship, but he had to make certain before he unleashed hell.
The next hour passed with Drew in a fog, never moving from his place at the bow until they came close enough to see the gleam of cannons through gunports and the scurry of sailors across the decks of the ships.
“Guns at the ready, Cap’n!” Steele called from amidship.
Drew finally turned away from his place on the forecastle deck, as confirmation was called out over the speaking trumpet to the ships flanking them left and right. Voices carried over the water, fromThe Sea LiontoMedusa,toThe Mantis, Fury, The Barbarian, The Nomad,andThe Night Hawk.Warning shots were fired over bows, and the first thrill of impending battle shot through him as he imagined the naval officers’ shock at realizing he’d not fallen prey to their trap.Île Saint Mariewas overrun with scouts who worked in rotating shifts, eyes always peeled for any sign of trouble. A flotilla of Royal Navy ships would never have escaped their notice. They were neither outmanned nor outgunned, and Drew was ready to show them how The Black Lion did battle with those who crossed him.
The blast of cannons was nearly deafening as all six ships opened fire at once, sending chainshot tearing through masts and sails and riggings. Unlike the slaver they’d taken down all those months ago, these ships of the line were manned with expert gunners who knew their business. Drew barely batted an eyelash as return fire tore through the railing near the quarterdeck, sending several of his men scattering to get out of range. The damage could be repaired, and such a blow would not sink them. One of his brigantines lost a mast, and the galleon had taken a hit to its hull, but his captains were capable. They would not be stopped.
The gunners reloaded with an impressive speed born of practice, sending another volley of chainshot toward the enemy. The splinter of masts and rip of sails followed, and by the time they came upon their enemy, the navy flotilla had taken heavy damage. There was nowhere to run.
Drawing his cutlass, Drew took hold of a length of rigging, swinging himself off the railing ofThe Sea Lionand onto the deck of the nearest ship. Rory had steered them abreast of the center ship, leaving the rest of the fleet to surround the others. The cries of his men followed Drew, urging one another to shadow their captain. He had no time to spare for them. He'd take on every man aboard this ship alone if that’s what it took to get him to Arabella.
A blunderbuss cracked, the ball flying inches past his left ear, but Drew pressed on, leaping from the railing and landing his boot in the face of the man who’d tried to shoot him. His cutlass dug into the man’s chest, leaving a bright burst of crimson on his crisp white shirt. He ran down the line of gunners, firing his flintlock into the back of one’s head, then slitting the throat of another. The butt of his pistol whipped the jaw of one who rose against him, sword raised to fight him off. Drew bashed his face in with the flintlock, roaring his fury as teeth and blood went flying. By the time he righted himself, his hand wet with the other man’s gore, half his crew had boarded the ship, sending the entire deck into chaos.
He fought by rote, taking no pleasure in the killing as he might otherwise have done. Nothing would satisfy him until he discovered who had taken his wife and made the spineless coward pay.
By the time he came to his senses again, Drew had made it to the quarterdeck. A string of dismembered bodies lay in his wake in a trail of death. His way was unobstructed as he took the stairs downward two and a time, his cutlass brandished and ready for anyone who got in his way.
The doors to the captain’s cabin were shut tight, but a handful of other doors offered multiple possibilities. Slowly making his way down the narrow corridor, he listened for sound, any hint that Arabella was here.
His lack of patience won out before long. “Bella! Bella, are you here?”
A muffled cry came from behind a door to his left, feminine and laced with terror. Fury seized him in its thrall, and upon finding the door locked, he stood back and sent it flying on its hinges with a few well-placed kicks.
Within, he found Bella, wide-eyed and trembling in the tight hold of a man who held a flintlock to her head. His teeth ached from how hard he clenched them as Drew locked gazes with a pair of eyes identical to his own.
“Will,” he spat. “I ought to have known.”
His brother sneered, pressing the gun into Arabella’s temple until she whimpered, thrashing in his hold.
“Not another step,” he warned, tightening his hold on Arabella until she was wheezing and gasping for breath. “I’ll put a hole in her head, I swear it.”
“No … he won’t,” Bella panted out. She had gone still, but defiance radiated from her eyes.
“Shut your mouth!” Will railed, shaking her and tapping the gun against her temple. “You’ve caused enough trouble, you little bitch.”
Drew growled as Arabella’s head whipped to the right, exposing the unsightly swelling and bruising marring half her face.
“Did he do that to you, my Bella?” he demanded, his voice a low, rasping whisper. “Did he put his hands on you?”
The barest nod was all the confirmation he needed. Will wouldn’t just die at his hand. Drew would tear him limb from limb, and he’d do it slowly.
“It’s almost over,” he assured her, though he had eyes only for Will, who seethed while keeping the gun aimed at his wife. “I’m taking you home, and no one will ever harm you again. You have my word.”
Will’s laughter filled the cabin, demented and harsh and humorless. “You couldn’t even protect her from me. If I were you, I’d be more concerned with the fact that you’re surrounded. There is no way out of this for you, Drew. The officers of these ships practically salivated when I told them all they needed to draw out The Black Lion was take one little woman hostage. You played right into my hands.”
