Page 70 of The Scoundrel of Drury Lane
“As if you care about anyone other than yourself. What are those poor pathetic creatures but dirt beneath one’s feet? Even you, the son of an earl, didn’t deserve the trappings of wealth. You were born into that life, yet you didn’t deserve it.”
Kit said nothing. He slowly reached a hand to Suzannah, hoping to pull her behind his body, but he couldn’t quite reach her.
“Everything that happens now, Kentwell... is because of your insolence.” That was Kit’s only warning of the danger that was coming. Balfour raised the gun toward Kit, but then he swung his arm toward Suzannah.
“No!” Kit lunged for her, but the iron manacle stopped him. He jerked to an abrupt halt, his hand grasping Suzannah’s arm. She cried out as the bullet struck her, and when she stumbled a step it was in his direction. He pulled her toward him, catching her.
“It will be such atragicstory for the papers,” Balfour said. “A crazed convict kills his wife, then in a fit of grief ends his own life by burning the very ship he robbed all those years ago.”
Suzannah struggled for breath as Kit held her against his chest. He could feel her blood sinking through his clothes from her body. He stared at Balfour, that old rage that had kept him alive in his darkest times rising to the surface once more. It raced through his blood like liquid fire.
“You will suffer for this,” Kit growled. “You will beg for mercy and you will findnone.”
Balfour smiled. “That will be difficult if you’re already dead.” Then he and Walsh backed out of the room. The lantern on the crate sputtered, and the shadows closed in. Kit sank to the floor, holding Suzannah as she bled. Somuchblood coated her chest. It was just like his nightmare of the wedding all over again.
“Kit... I’m... sorry,” Suzannah whispered, her voice wavering with pain.
He brushed her hair back from her face and tried to stay calm for her, but he could not hide the pain from his voice. “For what? You have nothing to apologize for.”
“For... for everything. If my father hadn’t spoke against you to protect me...”
Even facing her own death, she thought only of his life. That thought shattered him in a way nothing else could. His darling little painter.
“You havenothingto be sorry for, you hear me?” he said, his tone rough. “I would have done nothing differently.Youare the only thing in my life that was ever worth saving.”
Something wet rolled down his face and dripped onto Suzannah’s cheek.
“Don’t cry,” she begged, her eyes dark with worry. “Please.”
He was indeed crying, because his heart was breaking and nothing he could do could stop it. He couldn’t save her...
“Don’t lose yourself in the storm,” she breathed. “Find your way back... to shore... no matter what happens.” Her eyes closed as she slipped into unconsciousness.
Far away, he heard a distant crash and a sudden roar of flames. Walsh and Balfour had set the ship on fire. Numbly, he stared down at Suzannah, feeling that storm she’d warned about raging in his very soul.
“Don’t lose yourself...”
Smoke crept down the corridor toward the storeroom where he and Suzannah were.
“Don’t lose yourself in the storm...”
But he wasn’t lost. He was not on a ship being battered about upon the seas in a storm. Hewasthe storm.
Flames could be seen now down the hall, and he could hear the ship creaking and groaning like an old beast dying. They didn’t have long before the ship would take on water and sink beneath the waves. He set Suzannah down and planted one of his feet on the wall while grasping the manacle’s chain with both of his hands and pulled with all his might. Nothing. He tried again and again until the strength died within him.
He slumped, spent, and glanced at Suzannah’s body. She’d blamed herself for all this, but she was wrong. It was his fault. If he hadn’t sought revenge, she wouldn’t be here now. If he hadn’t fallen in love with her, she wouldn’t be...
The rage came roaring back, but it was a rage born of love, not vengeance. He gave a wild, animalistic howl and pulled the chain with the biblical might of Sampson. The wood creaked and the iron bar bent just an instant before the wood holding it in place snapped. He stumbled away from the wall. Kit jerked the chain up the length of the pole and off of it. Panting, he knelt and picked Suzannah up in his arms before he left the storeroom.
The smoke and heat of the fire were almost overpowering as he stumbled up the gangway toward the next deck, but a wall of flames blocked his way before he could get to the quarterdeck above. The smoke began to blind him, forcing him to turn around and seek another way out. Therehadto be another way. He ran the length of the corridor and found another set of steps. His chest burned as though he were breathing in fire.
He stumbled upon the last few steps, but he reached the top. Clean air met his lungs as he landed on the quarterdeck, but everything around him was burning. The little boat he had rowed up to the ship was gone. The distant figures of Walsh and Balfour were rowing toward the docks on the dinghy.
Men ashore were screaming“Fire!”as the docks came alive with calls for help. Other nearby vessels were now at risk of being set ablaze. Frantic sailors rushed to move the ships as fast as they could away from theWind Sprite.
Kit didn’t have time to think of another way off the ship. If he and Suzannah didn’t get off now, they would die. He didn’t dare think that Suzannah might already be gone, because the moment he did, he would be gone too. There would be nothing left for him in a world without her.
“Hold on, my love,” he whispered to Suzannah as he approached the railing.
