CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LIGHTNING FLASHED IN Drago’s stormy gray eyes. “You promised to listen. Let me explain.” He was dressed in black from his head to his boots. He removed his pistols and placed them on the desk. His saber leaned against the wall behind him. The Dragon tugged gently on her tethers as the Mississippi hurried by. All that disturbed the silence was the shifting creaks of the vessel as she breathed.
He crossed his arms and rested a hip against his desk. Eva glowered in a chair facing him and crossed her arms over her chest in response.
Pierre Lafitte had boarded a small boat along with some of his brother’s men and was celebrating in Barataria Bay, drinking rum and reveling in his freedom. Drago seemed to be confident Jean Lafitte would keep his promise and bring firearms and ammunition to Jackson’s army. There was no reason to doubt it. Lafitte was a pirate and a criminal, but he was also a man of his word. An odd combination, but still a favored son of the city.
Drago growled.
“I’m listening,” she snapped.
“You’re like a beautiful tempest when you are angry.” He cupped her chin softly. “At least look at me, Il mio amore.”
“I don’t know what you could possibly say that can repair the damage you’ve done to my trust and my...life” She faltered. Had she any pride remaining, she’d say no more. He wouldn’t care that he broke her heart. Her return to street rat from a near novitiate was practically finished, thanks to him.
“I am marked. The deputy saw my face. The scar—I can no longer hide, in the abbey or behind the veil.” Tears burned in the back of her eyes, but she pushed them away. “I’ll be recognized immediately either way.” Perhaps she might persuade Mother Superior to send her back to Jamaica for asylum. She certainly couldn’t remain here.
Seven years in the nunnery hadn’t changed a thing, except now she had an innate sense of guilt for the deception at the jail, and stealing of the relics from Lady Guiraud, though at the time it appeared to be the right action. Letting them go also felt strangely right. The sacred bones would continue to be cherished by people who’d treat them as preciously as they deserved.
She let out a deep sigh and raised her gaze. It was harder to focus when she looked at him. Harder to avoid appreciating the sharp angles of his jaw and the sensual line of his lips. Harder to keep her fingers from reaching out to trace the thin scar from his eyebrow to his hairline, before tucking the ebony curl back behind his ear. His hair was loose, giving him an almost maniacal mien. And his eyes were nearly as wild and predatory.
She hungered for him in a way that obscured the edges. Made it almost impossible to concentrate. His aura shouted authority and dominance she couldn’t deflect with thoughts or words.
She swallowed past the knot forming around her neck. “I considered you an ally in a common cause. You betrayed me.”
He personally tended to her after Razin’s attack and had defended her against Hugo. Why? Out of guilt? To gain her confidence again because he intended to use her and lie to her and betray her? Either way, it worked.
Just as she feared, the darkness in Drago Gamponetti pushed out the shadows; he lured her right back into the dank swill she fought to leave behind. The Ursuline nuns had shielded her from people like Hugo, who’d exploit her talents for their own gain, and people who couldn’t hide their revulsion and disgust. Now, even the option to join the abbey was gone. Mother Marie Francis would offer her sanctuary, but not accept her into the order. At least, not as long as she believed Drago was in love with Eva.
How was she going to push past this? She couldn’t tell her heart how to behave. It didn’t matter if she wanted to care for the man or not. She did.
There was a good man inside. She’d seen him. Sensed him. Listened to him. He may believe he was cursed, doomed to the devil, and already lost, but she would not.
Could not. Contrary to the earlier words she spoke in anger.
She witnessed his compassion and his righteous sense of patriotism, which he disguised as practical mercantile decisions. All those were little elements of light that did not normally come from black-hearted pirates, sons of Satan.
Drago’s eyes never strayed from hers. Their color shifted with his emotions. Sometimes they were a thunderous gray, sometimes silver flecked with icy blue.
Today they were the intense gray of a turbulent sea, roiling with determined impetus and anger. They caressed even as they raked her skin. Such an intense study would usually have her looking for a reason to excuse herself from the room. But, unlike the stares from others, his perusal didn’t shred her self-esteem. The energy emanating from his silver-rimmed irises stilled her. He was so devilishly handsome. Even leaning casually against the desktop, power and danger swirled around him like restless twin sharks.
She couldn’t deny the slight thrill from skittering up her spine. It would be useless to try and stop or ignore it. What would it be like if he loved her as much as she loved him?
He shoved off and in one step crouched in front of her. “Eva, from the depths of my heart, I am sorry. I was wrong to lie to you.” He brushed a strand of hair from the side of her face, caressed her cheek, then dropped his hand. “I’m sorry, Eva.”
He was so close, the heat of his body penetrated her skin, his musky scent mixed with spring air and damp wool. Her heartbeat quickened whether she willed it or not, and her breath was barred from her lungs. He rose and placed both hands on the arms of her chair, his hair caging them. Her heart shifted its beat and she let her gaze fall to his mouth, and she felt the yearning and knew he had no idea.
His eyes fell to the scattered charts, then to the window, where outside the clouds gathered. The muscle in his jaw bunched and rolled. “I know there’s nothing I’ll be able to do to redeem myself. This life was all I had to lose, so I chose to protect it at the expense of my soul, which, if it wasn’t before, it’s unquestionably damned now. I’ve been a pirate and a marauder a long time, Eva. It seems to be the only thing I can accomplish well.” His voice, like smoky honey, seeped into her bones.
The apology should have lightened her spirit a little, but instead, it made it heavier. Loving a man like Drago Gamponetti would only lead to misery. It would take her back to the underworld. Returning to that life would shatter her like a clay pot against a wall.
He finally met her gaze. Satisfaction glinted in his silver eyes. “Saint Louis’ bones still rest in the cathedral here.”
What?
“How—I don’t understand.” She narrowed her eyes. “I held them in my hand, Drago. Lady Guiraud took them and left.” He made no sense.
He kissed her forehead then slowly pulled off her veil. “The bones of Saint Louis are scattered all over France and Europe, Eva.” He grinned, and both dimples poked his cheeks. “King Louie couldn’t possibly know how many were here. I removed less than half.” Inky brows slid up his forehead. “Can you forgive my duplicity?”
She could only stare at him in shock. In truth, he did not break his pledge in the slightest. As he promised, he sent men to guard the relics. In a sense, they would be protected within the walls of a French cathedral in Paris. And here as well. The murky sludge of hurt and betrayal slid away, leaving her breathy and buoyant. She almost laughed. Forgiveness had never been so easy.
The ragged edges of his voice tore through the quiet cabin. “Can you, Eva?”
“Yes, I forgive you,” she whispered, unable to restrain the longing or the tears. Drago was brilliantly cunning. No wonder Jean Lafitte wanted him back in Barataria.
His eyes flooded with relief. He reached for her hand, and she let him take it. “Il mio caro, I have something to ask of you.”
There it was.
She stiffened and tried to tug her hand back, but he wouldn’t release it. The one thing she feared, dared hope would not arise. He wanted to use her again for another task. Well, he could try, but this time he’d be disappointed.
If he sensed the shift in her demeanor, he didn’t show it. He dragged a stool in front of her and sat. “Do you think...” He stroked her palm with his thumb, the sensation amplified by the fact he touching her. Finally, he raised his head. His eyes were rimmed in dark navy and she could only stare, transfixed amazed at the way he paralyzed her limbs with just a look. She had no choice except to wait for him to continue. It wasn’t like she was able to jump up and leave.
“Do you think you could ever love a man like me?”
His words rammed her like a punch to the chest. Heavens, if he only knew...
“Could you, Eva?” His voice was raw emotion scrapping through the stillness around them. Proud captain, leader of men. He filled the cabin beyond just his bulk, but also with his presence. Yet it was that tentative tone which made her pause, rather than respond with a vexed shake of her head.
She touched her hand to his cheek, and he closed his eyes and sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, Drago, loving you has always been the easy part.” Tears seared the edges of her eyes. The words came out so effortlessly. Yet, left a painful emptiness behind.
His expression opened with a bright hopefulness, eyes light. “Then why do you cry?” He smoothed a tear away with the back of a finger, then pulled the veil from her head and cupped her jaw in his palm.
The knot tightened. Would her words pain him to hear as much as they hurt her to say? “Because trusting you is the hard part.”