Read Online Dark Hero; A Gothic Romance (Reluctant Heroes) by Lily Silver - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lily Silver
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Through the cover of cannon fire from his larger Merchantman,
The Raven maneuvered his schooner alongside the smuggler’s sloop. He didn’t
wait for the grappling hooks to be secured as he dropped to the deck and began
hacking a wide path through the befuddled crew. A portly man emerged from the
hold. Raised, angry red scratches marred one cheek, confirming The Raven’s
suspicions; an unwilling female was on board and had attempted to fend off this
filthy cur. The man wobbled with inebriated shock as he took in the stream of
armed men flooding his vessel. “Who are you?”
The Raven slipped his blade beneath the captain’s ribs,
disarming him with the sure promise of disembowelment if he so much as moved.
“Did our employer neglect to inform you I was coming? T’was made clear to me, a
split by three.”
“Fletcher didn’t say nothin’ bout splitting the cut by
three! The deal was him and me.”
“He sent me to make sure you were following orders. Where’s
the girl?”
“I follow captain’s orders, always have, since Ireland. A
body’d be a fool to cross him. Ruthless prick, even when he was under military
orders.”
“Where is she?” The Raven pressed his blade into his
victim’s gelatinous paunch.
“In the hold, and there she stays, ‘til that rich cove what
owns her delivers the coin!”
The Raven gestured to the opening in the deck. His Indian
servant and several men took his cue and disappeared down the hole.
“Sent you to steal her from me, did he!” The captain was
fairly frothing at the mouth, furious but unable to lunge without impaling
himself on his adversary’s blade.
“Perhaps.” The Raven shrugged. “How much did he offer you to
steal the wench?”
The captain remained silent. With one steady pull of his
blade The Raven sliced through layers of flesh. Not deep enough to do any real
damage, just enough to make his victim bleed; make him panic. He stopped at the
throat, holding the captain like a fish on a hook.
“Five hundred pounds.” The captain offered in a hoarse
whisper, aware that a careless movement of his Adam’s apple could cause the
sword to pierce his windpipe. “Three hundred to be split between the crew and
two hundred for me--for services rendered.”
“What services?”
The seaman remained tight-lipped.
The Raven was not going to play this game. He withdrew a
pistol from his belt and pulled the trigger. The captain howled and slumped to
the deck cradling his shattered foot. “Answer, if you want to keep the rest of
your toes.”
“Wanted her ruined—broken and scared when we returned her to
her husband—them be his words, mate, not mine. Wanted me to rough her up, make
certain there’d not be another heir popping up later on to compete with his
son’s claim to the family fortune.”
“Did you? He said you couldn’t do it! Said you were weak,
limp, his words, not mine!”
“Oh, I shagged the bitch, make no mistake, scared her real
good, just like he wanted. I earned my cut and I ain’t sharing it with the
likes of you. Who the hell are you?”
“We have her, sir!” His Indian servant called out as they
carried the unconscious woman’s battered form to the waiting vessel.
Dr. Linton approached him as he stood over his prey. “I’ll
need to examine her to determine if she’s been damaged by these brutes--”
“Don’t touch her.” The Raven warned, blood pulsing
dangerously in his temples at the thought of any man touching his prize.
“She needs tending, my lord, there is a great deal of
blood—“
He removed the second pistol from his belt and cocked it. “I
said don’t touch her. I’ll kill you if you do. Is that understood, doctor?”
“Yes, sir.” The surgeon backed away with raised hands.
The Raven crouched over a dead body. He snatched a scarf
from the limp neck and began wiping the blood from his steel. He lifted it and
turned it about to inspect the blade under the glare of the noonday sun. The
razor edge
Through the cover of cannon fire from his larger Merchantman,
The Raven maneuvered his schooner alongside the smuggler’s sloop. He didn’t
wait for the grappling hooks to be secured as he dropped to the deck and began
hacking a wide path through the befuddled crew. A portly man emerged from the
hold. Raised, angry red scratches marred one cheek, confirming The Raven’s
suspicions; an unwilling female was on board and had attempted to fend off this
filthy cur. The man wobbled with inebriated shock as he took in the stream of
armed men flooding his vessel. “Who are you?”
The Raven slipped his blade beneath the captain’s ribs,
disarming him with the sure promise of disembowelment if he so much as moved.
“Did our employer neglect to inform you I was coming? T’was made clear to me, a
split by three.”
“Fletcher didn’t say nothin’ bout splitting the cut by
three! The deal was him and me.”
“He sent me to make sure you were following orders. Where’s
the girl?”
“I follow captain’s orders, always have, since Ireland. A
body’d be a fool to cross him. Ruthless prick, even when he was under military
orders.”
“Where is she?” The Raven pressed his blade into his
victim’s gelatinous paunch.
“In the hold, and there she stays, ‘til that rich cove what
owns her delivers the coin!”
The Raven gestured to the opening in the deck. His Indian
servant and several men took his cue and disappeared down the hole.
“Sent you to steal her from me, did he!” The captain was
fairly frothing at the mouth, furious but unable to lunge without impaling
himself on his adversary’s blade.
“Perhaps.” The Raven shrugged. “How much did he offer you to
steal the wench?”
The captain remained silent. With one steady pull of his
blade The Raven sliced through layers of flesh. Not deep enough to do any real
damage, just enough to make his victim bleed; make him panic. He stopped at the
throat, holding the captain like a fish on a hook.
“Five hundred pounds.” The captain offered in a hoarse
whisper, aware that a careless movement of his Adam’s apple could cause the
sword to pierce his windpipe. “Three hundred to be split between the crew and
two hundred for me--for services rendered.”
“What services?”
The seaman remained tight-lipped.
The Raven was not going to play this game. He withdrew a
pistol from his belt and pulled the trigger. The captain howled and slumped to
the deck cradling his shattered foot. “Answer, if you want to keep the rest of
your toes.”
“Wanted her ruined—broken and scared when we returned her to
her husband—them be his words, mate, not mine. Wanted me to rough her up, make
certain there’d not be another heir popping up later on to compete with his
son’s claim to the family fortune.”
“Did you? He said you couldn’t do it! Said you were weak,
limp, his words, not mine!”
“Oh, I shagged the bitch, make no mistake, scared her real
good, just like he wanted. I earned my cut and I ain’t sharing it with the
likes of you. Who the hell are you?”
“We have her, sir!” His Indian servant called out as they
carried the unconscious woman’s battered form to the waiting vessel.
Dr. Linton approached him as he stood over his prey. “I’ll
need to examine her to determine if she’s been damaged by these brutes--”
“Don’t touch her.” The Raven warned, blood pulsing
dangerously in his temples at the thought of any man touching his prize.
“She needs tending, my lord, there is a great deal of
blood—“
He removed the second pistol from his belt and cocked it. “I
said don’t touch her. I’ll kill you if you do. Is that understood, doctor?”
“Yes, sir.” The surgeon backed away with raised hands.
The Raven crouched over a dead body. He snatched a scarf
from the limp neck and began wiping the blood from his steel. He lifted it and
turned it about to inspect the blade under the glare of the noonday sun. The
razor edge
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