Page 62 of A Siren for the Duke

"I do. And this act of yours, this kidnapping, only proves what I suspected all along."

Gervase's eyes narrowed, a mixture of curiosity and intrigue flickering within them. "And what did you suspect, my dear lady?"

Her voice, though tinged with sadness, grew stronger as she spoke. "I suspected that Lionel's love for me had faded, that he had found solace in the arms of another or in the sea itself. That is why your revenge will fail, Gervase. You cannot hurt me by taking me from someone who no longer loves me."

Gervase leaned forward, his eyes locked onto Jemima's face, searching for any hint of deception. But all he found was a wearied, resolute gaze.

"You play a dangerous game, my lady," Gervase hissed. "You dare to underestimate the depths of love and the lengths a man will go to protect it."

Jemima met his gaze, unflinching. "Perhaps. But I have underestimated love once before, and I paid the price. I shan’t make that mistake again."

Silence enveloped the carriage as Jemima's words hung in the air, the weight of her confession reverberating between them. Gervase's calculating gaze softened, replaced by a strange mixture of understanding and pity. She wanted none of that, however, and reached for the handle of the carriage with her bound wrists.

The smuggler was quicker than he looked and struck her across the face. She cried out, holding the back of her hand to her stinging cheek.

“Don’t try it, Lady Jemima. I have eyes all over this island, all over the Caribbean, even. I would find you again.”

“I just told you I’m worthless to him. And jumping out of the carriage seems a better alternative than looking at you.”

Gervase chuckled. “You are a fiery one! Quite pretty, too,” he said, reaching out and stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. Repulsed by the touch, she spat in his face. He indignantly wiped it off with the handkerchief in his pocket, then, with sudden alacrity, grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her face close to his. She yelped at the pain, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

“I prefer you mute,” he said in a low, even tone. It sent a chill down her spine, and he tied a rag in her mouth to keep her from talking. The itchy fabric dug into her cheeks and the corner of her mouth, pushing her tongue back uncomfortably. “There, that’s better,” he said, stroking her cheek again. “Now, I must decide whether I’ll sell you to some sultan in the East or keep you for myself aboard ship as my companion... we shall see,” he said with a wicked grin.

Gervase stole a glance out of the carriage window, then knocked at the roof with his cane. The carriage rolled to a stop, and the door opened. Part of her wanted to make a run for it, but his men were gathered outside the door. She could not have gotten far even if she had tried. The smuggler disembarked first, then seized Jemima about the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder. She screamed as much as she could through the muzzle, but that only garnered laughter from her captor’s crew, who looked rougher and less gentlemanly than Lionel’s men.

As they walked the gangplank up to the ship, a bullet whizzed past the opposite side of her captor’s body and lodged itself in the ship’s side. She saw Lionel and her brother Ferdinand on the ground, pistols drawn.

“Let her go, you monstrous brute!” Ferdinand shouted.

Try and take her!” Gervase taunted, tossing Jemima to one of his men. “Put her in my cabin and prepare to depart. I’ll handle Captain Hunt,” he said maliciously and made his way down the gangplank.

The monster of a man set her down to readjust his hold on her. She seized the opportunity and stomped down on his foot, then jammed a knee hard between his legs. He cried aloud in pain and sunk to his knees, his hands covering his most intimate area. With one more kick to his face, while he was down, she snatched the knife from his belt and positioned it in such a way that it cut through the bonds on her wrists. When she was free there, she reached around and untied the piece of cloth that was gagging her.

"Consider this a lesson in manners," she retorted, wagging a finger in the man's direction, scolding him for his rudeness.

Then she ran down the gangplank as fast as she could toward the men all fighting over her.

* * *

Anguish gripped Lionel as he witnessed the cruelty of the man who dared lay a hand on the woman he cherished. Without a moment's hesitation, his protective instincts surged, overriding any fear or doubt that might have held him back. Lionel's legs moved with a swiftness borne of desperation as he sprinted towards the ship. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind focused solely on rescuing Jemima from the clutches of that villain. Every fiber of his being yearned to hold her safely in his arms once more.

Gervase turned to face Lionel, a wicked grin spreading across his face. The smuggler's eyes gleamed with malice, his every movement exuding confidence born from a lifetime of treachery. Lionel's jaw tightened, his fists clenching, ready to defend the woman who held his heart.

"Lionel, my dear boy," Gervase sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "What a pleasure it is to have an audience for our little reunion."

Ignoring the taunt, Lionel's focus remained on Jemima. Her vulnerability fueled his determination, igniting a fire that refused to be extinguished. The battle between them was about more than physical strength—it was a battle for their love and their future together.

Gervase struck first, his fist hurtling toward Lionel's face with the speed of a striking snake. Lionel's reflexes kicked in, his body moving with the grace of a dancer. He deftly dodged the blow, his mind calculating every move, every potential opening. In a swift counterattack, Lionel's fist found its mark, connecting with Gervase's jaw. The smuggler staggered backward, momentarily stunned. It was a small victory, but Lionel knew he had to remain vigilant.

The fight unfolded in a flurry of motion and instinct. Lionel moved with a fluidity honed through countless hours of practice, anticipating Gervase's every strike. Blow after blow was exchanged, the clash of their bodies resounding through the air. Gervase fought with the desperation of a cornered animal, his punches fueled by rage and a desire to maintain his dominance. Lionel, however, fought with a love that surpassed all boundaries—a love that transcended the physical realm. It gave him strength, resolve, and a single-minded purpose.

But Gervase soon resorted to dirty tactics, aiming for vulnerable spots and exploiting any opening he could find. Lionel winced as pain seared through his side, a consequence of Gervase's underhanded strike. But the pain only fueled Lionel's determination, intensifying his resolve to protect the woman who meant everything to him.

With a surge of strength, Lionel launched himself at Gervase, grappling with him in a desperate struggle. Their bodies crashed against the ship's railing, the wood groaning under the weight of their clash. Lionel's muscles strained, his grip unyielding, as he fought for Jemima's freedom. But Gervase was not one to be easily defeated. With a sudden burst of energy, he broke free from Lionel's grasp, sending him stumbling backward. Gasping for breath, Gervase lunged at Lionel, his fists a blur of motion.

Lionel's face bore the marks of the battle—bruised, bloodied, but unwavering in his determination. And then, in a fleeting instant, Lionel saw an opportunity. Gervase's guard dropped for the briefest of moments, a weakness born from arrogance. It was all the opening Lionel needed. Summoning every ounce of strength left within him, Lionel delivered a devastating blow to Gervase's chest. The smuggler staggered backward, his eyes wide with disbelief. Lionel seized the moment, providing a final blow that sent Gervase sprawling to the ground.

He thought it was over, but Gervase crawled a few paces and retrieved his gun. To Lionel’s horror, he pointed it at Jemima. With a swiftness he had not known he possessed until that moment, he placed himself between Jemima and Gervase as a deafening shot rang out, piercing the air with a sickening finality.