Greg’s blond brows folded in a frown. “Feign your death?”
“Exactly.” His smile widened. “I’ll tell Hancock to fetch my clothing tomorrow night, then have him arrange a drowning. All they’ll find of me is a scrap of my shirt, a boot, and just so there’s no question of my identity, my mask. The body will have drifted down the river Thames, into the ocean.”
Greg paused as if in thought. “By George, it might work.”
“I will make it work.” Drex clapped his friend on the back.
But before he killed his alter ego forever, Drex decided he would pay his wife a visit—in costume. The sentiment she harbored for the masked privateer appeared so deep, she still fancied herself in love with him.
He had to let the Black Dragon help him to win her affections again and turn them to favor her ever-patient husband.
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“Greg, did I hear you say your latest mistress is an actress?” Drex asked. At his friend’s nod, he asked, “How would she like to help me with a small transformation?”
* * *
Christina rolled over in her cold bed and opened one eye. Had she really heard a thud at her door or had she been dreaming?
Her chamber looked the same, a bedside stand and a book, a cluttered dressing table, a velvet settee in sunny yellow. The door connecting her room to her Drexell’s remained closed.
Thump. Christina whirled around and scanned the other side of the room.
Her white-curtained window let in muted moonlight—and illuminated a familiar silhouette.
Dark hair fell to his shoulders, glittering gold looped through his ear, a white shirt hung open to his waist and a glittering dagger rested at his thigh.
The Black Dragon.
Christina rubbed her eyes, certain she must be dreaming. When she looked up again, he still stood beside her window.
He looked as imposing as ever, menacing in shadow, like some phantom of the night. Her pulse quickened, along with her anger.
“Oh my… You!” She yanked the covers to her chin. “How did you get in?”
“Your windows are easy to pry open, Lilli. You should have someone look into that.”
“My window is not at ground level,” she protested, then realized she should be shouting a thousand other words.
“A minor detail.” He waved her argument away. “You’re looking well. Very well, in fact.”
“How dare you come here! My husband could walk in—”
“Husband?” He laughed. “I see you missed me a great deal.”
“I shall scream,” she warned. “I shall bring every man and woman in this house running.”
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“Wait.” He held up a large hand. “I merely popped in to ask you a question.
You can’t want to see me die for it.”
She drew in shallow breaths for long moments. He deserved torture and a death. But why give the hangman all the pleasure?
“Ask quickly. In five minutes, I vow I will scream.”
He nodded. “Your grandfather continues to thwart me.” He stepped closer.
“Since I never received the hostage I sought, I must abduct you and ransom you again. How quickly can you be ready to leave?”
Christina felt her mouth drop open. “You will have to kill me first! You took my innocence, you bastard, and led me to believe I could rely on you. I will not be used again.”
“I could have left you on Grand Bahama.”
“It hardly matters,” she hissed. “The outcome would have been the same.”
He stepped forward and grabbed her arm. “My mission is not about your feelings. I have a task to accomplish. You seemed to enjoy the previous adventure. We’ll simply have another one. If your husband didn’t mind sharing you once…perhaps he won’t mind again.”
She twisted away from his touch and jumped to her feet. “He will mind, as will I. I am married now. Happily, to a man who is both patient and kind. I will not accompany a cur like you anywhere.”
“Kind?” He laughed. “Lilli, kindness won’t curl your toes on a cold winter night. A kind milquetoast of a husband can’t possibly make you feel the kind of passion we shared.”
Christina advanced on the Black Dragon, feeling as if her anger had become a simmering volcano. “Drexell is twice the man you could ever hope to be. And four minutes of your five have passed. I suggest you run now.” She leaned forward, chest thrust forward, chin up. “Do not ever dare to come back.”
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Chapter Eighteen
An hour later, night shadows cast their murky tones on the dockside streets Drex traversed to The Dragon’s Lair. Unarmed, he felt naked and heartily wished secrecy had not prevented him from bringing his own vehicle.
But too many sticky questions would arise if anyone connected him with the Black Dragon’s crew.
Drunken revelry abounded, blending with the smells of salt and sewage. A man in the distance lurched toward a light-skirt, singing a bawdy ballad at the top of his lungs.
All seemed normal. No reason for hesitation.
Yet Drex felt eyes upon him, from everywhere it seemed, despite the fact he spied no one but the drunken songster.
He passed a darkened ale house and rounded the corner. Drex saw a dark blur of movement and a flash of metal. He turned and found a burly man pulling away from the uneven Tudor wall—and coming at him.
Drex’s blood pounded. His heart beat double time as the man grabbed his shoulder and pulled him forward, trying to impale Drex on the blade thrust at his abdomen.
He had no time to think before he swerved away from the oncoming blade, dodged a swipe of the man’s fist and grabbed his attacker’s hair. He yanked on the greasy strands, satisfied at the man’s howl of pain. He pinned the man in place with a knee at his testicles.
“What the hell do you want?” he growled.
The knave only grunted and twisted from his grasp. He kicked out at Drex, connecting with his shin. The blade in his assailant’s hand arced toward him.
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Drex turned and dodged, then retaliated with a biting upper cut. The man’s head shot back.
Drex seized the opportunity to slam the man against the splintery wall and pin him there with a hard forearm to his neck. Shadows hid most of the man’s face. Dirt and hair hid the rest as Drex grabbed the man’s wrist and ripped the knife from it. He held the blade right to the man’s gut.
“What the hell do you want?” he asked again.
“Shut yer bleedin’ arse,” the man bellowed.
The voice sounded familiar, the voice of a man who had reason to hate him.
Talbot.
His attacker lunged again. Before Drex could move, the sailor jabbed Drex’s chin with a fierce right-handed punch. As he tried to follow with a left to the stomach, Drex blocked the blow, then gouged Talbot in the nose. Blood and curses flowed.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Talbot glared at him in acrimony. “I’ve come to kill ye. Hired right proper to do a deed I would’ve anyway.”
A sudden grunt ripped through the night, precipitating the man’s lunge.
Fingers bared in a menacing arch, the assailant reached for Drex’s throat. He dodged the attack with fast feet, but did not see Talbot’s kick until it connected with his abdomen.
The air left Drex’s lungs in a painful whoosh. He clutched his belly with one hand and gripped the knife with the other.
Supporting his injured nose with one bloody hand, Talbot staggered toward Drex, preparing to attack again. At the last moment, Drex raised the knife, thrusting the sharp silver blade into the cad’s belly.
Talbot’s expression showed shock below his thatch of red hair. He lurched away, clutching his stomach, glaring at Drex with accusing eyes. Then he crumbled to the ground.
* * *
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