Page 3 of The Rebellious Countess
Bloody hell. If he were still passed out, none of this would bother him. As it were, he was going to sneeze. “Ahh—chooo!”
“The Cap’n’s awake, is ’ee?”
Elias opened his eyes, blinked at the light threatening to crack his skull in two, and looked up at the two men standing over him as recognition set in. He’d know those black teeth anywhere. He allowed himself to slip into the language these two would understand. “Billy, me boy. It seems I got meself tied up and tossed in a bit of muck.” He grinned and tugged at the bindings that held his arms behind his back.
“This particular wench’s perfume not to yer standards, Cap’n? I be thinkin’ she’s not quite as sweet as that bit o’ flesh yehad back on theMaribelle, tho, is she? When we’re done here, we be meanin’ to show yer lady a bit o’ fun, right Billy?” Jack nudged Billy in the ribs with his elbow and the man responded with a vile grin. In that moment Elias decided he’d kill Jack first for suggesting this man even think of touching his wife…right after they told him where he could find her.
He winked at Jack despite every muscle in this body wanting to tear the blighter limb from limb. “Jaaack,” he let the man’s name drag out on his tongue the way he’d make the man die—slowly and painfully. “Ye know I’ve been without that morsel the entire trip. Me cock isn’t very fond of a wife too sick to swallow. Now cut these bindings, and let’s go find some real whores who like it deep.” He thrust his hips in a crude gesture these two could appreciate.
The two of them laughed humorously. “Now Cap’n, I’m ‘fraid those days be o’er for ye. We just be needin’ to know where ye stashed the chit.”
“Who? What the devil is going on? Enough games,” he growled. “Untie my damned hands and I’ll let you off with a couple lashes. If you don’t, I’ll see you swing.”
Jack reared back and kicked him in the ribs. It was all the answer he needed. He was at war, and these two picked the wrong enemy. Whoever tied his hands didn’t know a stopper knot from a clove hitch knot. He rolled with the impact, his speed and momentum overtaking Jack. He was down on the ground with an “Umph.”
Still moving, Elias threw the rope clear of his hands and grabbed Jack’s pistol before Billy even realized he was loose. Eyes wide, Billy desperately fumbled for the knife at his waist.
“Don’t do it,” he cautioned.
Billy ignored the warning and pulled the knife from the sheath.
“Billy…” Elias used the stern tone he used with his crew, hoping to leave no doubt in the other man’s mind that he would do what was necessary. But Billy was new. The voyage to France had been his first with theMaribellecrew.
And his last.
Billy raised the rusty blade to shoulder height, his eyes targeting Elias’s chest.
Elias pulled the trigger. The blast reverberated off the walls as smoke swirled in the air and the scent of gunpowder mixed with blood. Billy’s sightless eyes stared at him as the bullet hole between his eyes began to seep. The knife dropped to the ground, followed by the hollow thud of Billy’s body.
“Dammit,” he cursed. He turned his attention back to Jack as he struggled to stand up. The pain in his head not letting him forget the beating he’d taken. It rolled through his skull like a licentious storm on the ocean, and he swayed as he reached for his satchel on the table.
Jack scurried across the floor, crawling over his partner’s body, and grabbed Billy’s knife. By the time Jack looked up, he was already beaten.
Elias shrugged. “You left my pistol.” He nodded toward the empty leather satchel lying on the table as he pointed the gun on a now cowering Jack, who held his palms extending outward in a gesture meant to placate. “Don’t be shoot’n, Cap’n. Just a bit of fun we be havin’.”
“I don’t think Billy finds your idea of entertainment very diverting.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. What day is it?” He asked. He’d come ashore on Tuesday morning, but he had no idea how much time had passed.
“Wednesday,” Jack answered, his gaze traveling to Elias’s bound feet. The addled brain was concocting a foolish plan of attack.
Elias growled. “Drop the dagger and move over to the empty stall.”
The small dagger dropped in the filth as Jack began to stand. “Crawl on your hands and knees,” Elias ordered. “Then lie on your stomach in the middle of the stall.”
“But—”
Elias cocked the pistol.
“Aye, Cap’n,” Jack obeyed the order without further complaint.
Elias grinned and patted one of the nags on the neck as she ambled out of her stall to see what all the fuss was about. He would have thought she’d run at the sound of the shot, but somehow the old girl was more curious than frightened. He supposed a life on the streets would do that, even for an animal.
“You get used to the wench’ssweetness,” he told Jack, as he crawled through shite. It was a lie. He couldn’t wait to dunk his head in a trough and get the shite off his body. “Who’s the chit you were wanting information about, Jack?” It had better not be his wife.
“Yer wife, Cap’n.”
Elias delivered a nasty taste of Jack’s own medicine and kicked the man in the ribs, making sure he cracked ribs with the first blow.
Jack curled in on his injury and grabbed his side with a moan. “Please, Cap’n. We wasn’t goin’ to urt ’er.”
