Romancing the Pirate 01 - Blood and Treasure by Jennifer Bray-Weber Page B

slaving away at his demands. Truth be known, her mother and she were still servants in every sense of the word.
    Lianna had known who and what she was and she would not let the perverse attitude of a sottish cur determine who she was to be. She had grown calloused, dour when serving customers at the tavern, but careful not to attract too much notice to herself. Over the years, she had become a saucy wench to tangle with and well respected by the regulars. Six years later, she rarely ran into that kind of trouble again. Rarely.
    No longer shaking, she willed her fear to slacken its constricting grip and regained her composure. Certain she possessed her wits, she swiped at the last tear, stood, smoothed out her rumbled dress and unlatched the cargo door.
    Jason fell into her. “Miss Whitney! Are you okay? I’m so sorry, ma’am. I let you down. Did he hurt you? I’m so sorry.” He frantically looked around, peering into the shadows. With a stone ballast in his small hand, he stood primed to deliver a blow, ready to fight for her like a champion.
    “It’s okay, Jason.” She took him by the shoulders. “I’m all right. There’s nothing to worry about.” She kneeled down. “Everything’s fine.” His brown eyes were wild. He was scared. Scared for her. “Really.” She pulled him into a hug. “Really.”
    *****
    Zane’s decision to send Lianna down into the cargo space below the Rissa’s water line had been one of no choice. Given the distance between the two ships, any place else would be less safe. If the ship began to sink, Jason could see them out easily enough before they had a chance to drown. At least that’s what he had hoped for.
    The poor lass had looked as white as a bleached sail. He wished he could go comfort her, a foolish and dangerous notion. No, she would have to suffer the battle until the end, no matter the outcome. Still, he couldn’t help but yearn to hold her, stroke her soft tawny hair, whisper sincere vows he would protect her. There he went again. Thinking like some kind of hero. How bloody stupid.
    The exchange of firepower raged fierce. Zane had a formidable foe in Bennington. He could count on the commodore’s enthusiasm for a fight. Although the naval officer was well versed in battle, Bennington’s presumptive pride exposed a weakness Zane had always been able to exploit.
    The explosion of cannons split the ears, acrid smoke hung thick. Drafts of sea breeze did little in blowing the swirling, grey smoke away. Zane could only make out the contour of the Tradition . And she was getting closer.
    “He means to board us.” Blade fired off a shot from his blunderbuss. “Should we weigh anchor?”
    “No. The merchants need a chance to make their way out of the bay.” Zane pulled a pistol from one of his braces on his bandolier. “Let him try to board. That will then prove his ignorance. He will only hasten his defeat.”
    A bullet whizzed past Zane’s head splintering against the main mast behind him, sending wooden shards piercing his skin. Without flinching, he returned fire.
    “Besides, Bennington cannot set his mind to a pirate’s heart. Two disabled ships will render him a sitting duck amid these hostile waters. With or without The Serpent, he would be given no quarter.”
    A grappling hook caught at the railing in front of Blade. Zane quickly sliced through the rope with his sword, firing again into the smoke.
    “Use the fireballs!” He thundered the demand at his men.
    The Rissa jolted as a cannonball lacerated through her berth.
    Zane quickened his step along the waist, shouting orders to his gunners. Skilled artillerymen loaded and fired their cannons with a calm composure verged near suicidal indifference. These men worked as a team. The loader cleared the touchhole vent on top of the muzzle of firing debris and then measured the loose gunpowder. The sponger shoved the swabbing sponge down the gun’s barrel to extinguish sparks and stepped aside for the rammer. It