His father hid a smile with a handkerchief.
Manchester advanced on the officer. “Impossible! The man is about to be hanged. It can’t possibly be the Black Dragon.”
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“The Dragon’s Lair sailed into harbor about an hour ago and sent one of his crew, Hancock, over with a message.”
“What did he say, man?” Manchester barked.
The officer cleared his throat. “The Black Dragon’s message said, `Hang an innocent man if doing so will make you feel the hero, but you will not be rid of me.’”
Manchester cursed beneath his breath. Christina moved to stand beside her grandfather.
The old man paused. Christina placed her small hand on her grandfather’s sleeve, and stepping up on tip-toe, whispered something in his ear.
Manchester addressed the executioner. “I shall investigate this attack for its authenticity. Do nothing until I return.”
As the crowd roared its displeasure, Drex stared at his wife. Had they all cooked up some scheme to save him? He could hardly believe she had any reason to want his life spared. He urged her to return his glance, willing her to look his way.
She did. Her green eyes burned with mystery, her expression regal, unsmiling. Then she turned away with her grandfather.
As Manchester and Christina disappeared through the hissing crowd, Drex prayed she was involved with this plan. If so, she might still have at least a shred of feeling for him.
* * *
“Christina, what is this about?” her grandfather barked once ensconced inside his coach.
The vehicle jerked forward in its departure, saving her from an immediate response. “What do you mean?”
“This attack on the harbor, girl! What else could I mean?” His silver brows slashed downward like two polished swords.
“I—I’ve no notion why the Black Dragon would attack the harbor, Grandfather. Nor do I care. I simply want you to spare my husband’s life.”
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The old man shifted in the swaying coach and turned to face her. “Do you try to convince me that I’ve arrested the wrong man?”
“Have I not been telling you so for the past two days?” she shouted above the din of cannon fire they drew ever-closer to.
“You’ve been intimate with both, have you not?” he spat ruthlessly. “Can you not tell if they are one and the same?”
“They are not,” she lied, folding her damp palms together. “I said as much repeatedly.”
“So you slapped your husband upon his arrest for no reason at all.” He turned a skeptical scowl in her direction. “Do you truly expect me to believe such rubbish?”
“You’ve never believed in me at all. I shouldn’t think you would start now.”
Grandfather swore at the jarring ride and narrowed rheumy blue eyes at her. “Meaning what? That I should have allowed you to become a stage trollop?”
Christina raised her chin. “If I chose. My life is my own,” she argued. “As yours belongs to you.”
“I make plans and decisions because I care for you, because you know too little of the real world to make them yourself.”
She clenched her teeth. “I must learn, as we all must. If you truly care, let me lead my life, whether I succeed or fail.”
Grandfather turned a shoulder to her. Though hardly an acceptance, the fact he did not bark a refusal in her face seemed a victory of sorts. “I want the truth, Christina, not an answer designed to protect your husband. Is Drexell the Black Dragon?”
She paused, waiting out the mewl of more cannon fire. “Think about this.
You’ve convicted a man to die with what evidence? An anonymous note containing somebody’s theory and the fact Drexell has a tattoo. Neither proves he is the Black Dragon.”
“Perhaps,” he conceded. “However, do you not think the coincidence is quite suspicious?”
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“You said the word yourself: Coincidence. One can never tell. If Drexell is indeed the Black Dragon, would you truly wish the father of your possible great-grandchild to die a traitor? And if he is the Black Dragon, how do you describe this attack on the harbor while Drexell is shackled at Tyburn?”
Grandfather’s thin mouth turned down in thought, the man clearly at a loss for an answer.
Moments later, they arrived at the docks and emerged from the vehicle.
Smoke dusted the sky an ominous charcoal and hung pungent with the scent of gun powder. Another cannonball shot through the air. A tiny boat of soldiers rowing toward The Dragon’s Lair jumped from the dinghy seconds before it shattered into pieces with a crash. Christina winced at the blast.
“Get back in the coach,” Grandfather barked.
“Like hell,” she called, running for the nearest dinghy. Three soldiers sat in it, waiting for others.
“Get out,” Christina barked.
“Oh, no, me lady. We could not let you row into that battle,” one wide-eyed boy replied.
“Christina, get out of there!” Grandfather roared.
“Don’t you understand yet? The Black Dragon will not let your sailors near his ship. He will, however, see me.”
Manchester hesitated before barking to the sailors. “You,” he pointed to a burly sailor. “Row us to that ship.”
The man swallowed. “He’ll blow us to bits, yer grace.”
Christina turned to the sailor. “He won’t fire, not once. I give you my word.”
At her grandfather’s nod, the dinghy set off for The Dragon’s Lair. True to her promise, not a single shot was fired in their direction. Sending a silent prayer up for Davie in the crow’s nest, she waited with a pounding heart until they pulled beside the familiar frigate. A ladder was lowered to them and, one by one, each made their way on deck.
An imposing figure stood at the top, waiting. The black beard and black mask were exactly as she remembered, as were the golden earring and lean
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lines of his body. The gun he leveled at her grandfather’s chest added to his imposing figure.
“Christina.”
“Captain,” she greeted in return.
Grandfather stood rigid but silent, bearing his own weapon.
“Have you come to hear reason, old man?” asked the captain, legs akimbo in an arrogant pose.
“That will depend on what you have to say, you defiler of innocent girls.”
He laughed. “Had I believed for an instant you would have embraced me as her husband, I would have gladly wed her.”
Her grandfather scowled. “What do you seek?”
“To prevent you from hanging her husband, an innocent man, I might add.
That could damage family harmony. It would be a grave mistake.”
“Why should you care?”
“I want Christina well cared for. I perceive that he will see to the task far better than you. But as I said in the note, if hanging an innocent man makes you feel hero… It’s nothing to me. If you do, however, I will return for Christina and take care of her myself.”
Grandfather gritted his teeth, mouth pinched in fury. “I won’t rest until I watch you swing, you son of a bitch.”
The Black Dragon shrugged. “I fear you shall wait a long time indeed. I plan to retire, you see, return to the life I led before war and politics called my name.
My mask gives me the anonymity to do so.”
Christina’s palms turned damp as a river as she waited for her grandfather’s reaction. He turned first to her and studied her face. She prayed he could not read her thoughts. She prayed their ruse worked.
He faced the Black Dragon again. “If you ever come within one hundred miles of another of my ships—or my granddaughter—I will personally hang every brigand on the seas until I find you.”
The Black Dragon nodded. “Agreed.”
With a curt nod, her grandfather turned and signaled to the dinghy below.
“Thank you,” she mouthed to the masked man.