The Doctor

I might have to see if I can fit this into my schedule next year. Sounds interesting!

Jack's coat was flung on the bed, with his cravat on the floor beside it. Jack himself was leaning against the open door to Zara's room, looking at their daughter's crib. Honour closed the bedroom door quietly and stood there watching him, desperately trying to find her voice. The fear that all her lies, all her mistakes, all her bad decisions, had finally ruined everything gripped her heart. “Jack, I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry,” she began haltingly. But suddenly, the words came tumbling forth, and her tears with them. “I wanted to tell you, God knows I did. So many times, the words were right there, but I was too afraid!” Without turning toward her, Jack shut the door to Zara's room. “I can't even bear to look at you right now,” he said heavily. “I can explain, I swear! Just give me a chance...” “Explain?? I'm sure you can, now that you have no choice.” He turned and looked at her after all. The anger she expected was there, yes, but joined with hurt, confusion, and worst of all, distrust. “I don't want to believe Rose, Honour. I want to write her off as a drunk, spiteful woman. But... I can't ignore the things you've said and done. Like the plantation? All this time I thought it was bought out from under us by the mysterious R.C. Castlemaine. Rhiannon Conaway Castlemaine. You bought it, and never told me the truth! Were you too afraid to tell me that, too?” “Yes.” “You could have told me. I would have understood. That night on the ship, when we reconciled, you agreed we needed complete truth between us. Yet, here are more surprises. More secrets. Honour, I can't go on like this.” Honour gasped. “No, you're not leaving. Please say you're not!” “Then help me understand! Rose says you're the reason this Madoc was killed. Hell, she believes you arranged it! Between her story and your own words, I don't know who to believe.” “My... my words?” “Your nightmares, remember? Crying out Madoc's name, begging him not to do something-- it was when he died, isn't it? It wasn't a nightmare at all, it was a memory!” “Jack, Madoc was such a horrible, cruel man who loved his power and money more than anything else. I hated him, I wanted to get away from him, but I never wanted it to happen the way it did!” “Didn't you know the man's disposition before you married him? Or did you do it for the money?” “No! It wasn't like that at all! My father forced me into marrying Madoc. I didn't want to. I hated him from the moment I laid eyes on him. But I had no choice.” Jack shook his head. “I don't understand. You're a beautiful woman! I can't believe there weren't any prospective suitors.” She swallowed hard and let out a shaking sigh. “There was. And we loved each other. But he had to go away. I waited for him, but something happened and he didn't come back. Not until it was too late.” “If he loved you so much, why did he leave?” “On business. He was a... a man of the sea. Besides, my father never would have approved of him.” “I'm beginning to see a pattern.” “Please, Jack, don't joke. Not now.” “Then what happened?” Honour sat down on the edge of the bed, her eyes downcast. She picked up his cravat and began wringing it nervously. “He came back and found out I was married to that monster. I had thought he was dead, or worse found someone else. But he vowed he would take me away from Madoc. No matter what, he would rescue me from that awful existence. When he tried, it all went wrong. And he and Madoc died. So I ran.” Jack shook his head as he tried to grasp her explanation. “You fell in love with a man your father disapproved of, he left and didn't return as promised, you were forced into marriage with a wealthy old fossil, your love returned and tried to take you away. And died in the process. Am I following so far?” “Yes.” “I've heard this story before. Most of it, anyway.” “Jack, I swear, I'm not making this up! I couldn't!” “No. I know you couldn't. But I have heard part of this before. From a young man.” Honour's eyes grew wide. “You... you did?” “Tell me his name, Honour,” Jack demanded. “Jack, please...” “Tell me! Because I already know it.” “Please, don't make me...” “Rhys Morgan! My God, it was Rhys! You're the Rhiannon he talked about endlessly. He told me his plan to spirit you off. And that's the last I ever saw of him. Months later I learned he was dead, just as I'd warned him. All because of you.” “No, Jack! Please, you're not being fair!” Honour sobbed. “I can't. I can't do this. It's all too much...” Jack's voice trailed off as he struggled to make sense of the night's revelations. Without another word, he took a pillow and blanket from the bed and walked toward the door. “Where are you going?” cried Honour. “Somewhere else. To think, to sleep. I can't do that here. Not with you.” “Please, Jack, stay! I love you!” He opened the door and turned back to his sobbing wife. “I love you, too, Honour. So very, very much. That's the problem.” With a saddened look, he closed the door and left Honour to her own bitter tears.

“Aha! There it is!” said Honour triumphantly as she produced the toy rabbit from its hiding place. Zara had managed to fling the little bunny farther than ever before, and it had landed between a trunk and the wall. “Our little girl is getting so strong! Here you are, sweetheart. Safe and sound.” She gave the toy back to Zara, and the little girl's cries faded almost immediately into happier coos as she pulled its ears and squeezed its nose. “She'll be a strong one,” said Nanny Greyson. “Just like her mother.” Honour smiled at the woman who had done more to raise her than her father ever had then looked back at her own daughter. Zara's eyes were growing heavier by the second. “And probably just as strong-willed, I'll be bound,” the nanny continued with a teasing note in her voice. “She's a beautiful little girl, Rhiannon. Your mother would have been proud to have such a grandchild.” “I'd like to think she would be,” said Honour softly. It was in times like this she wished most that her mother was still alive, to ask advice and share in the joy. “Oh! What am I doing? Jack will be wondering where I am by now. I told him I'd only be a few minutes.” Nanny Grayson gently patted Honour's hand. “She'll be fine now, Rhiannon. And so will your husband. Sometimes you need to keep the men waiting. Keeps them on their toes. Now, back to the party with you!” Honour hugged the older woman, and stopped at the mirror to adjust her hair and smooth her dress out after crawling about on the floor. Satisfied she was presentable for the party, she quietly closed the door to Zara's room and hurried to the stairs. When she reached the top of the staircase, she could see Jack just starting up. She quickly made her way down to meet him. “Jack!” Honour called. “Here I am! Everything is fine now. I'm sorry it took so long.” She met him at the midpoint of the stairs and immediately noticed his cravat was askew. “Here, let me fix this for you.” She went about straightening it as she continued telling him about Zara. “You wouldn't believe it! Zara found a new place to throw the rabbit. Nanny Grayson agrees she's going to be a strong little girl... Jack, what... what's wrong? Why are you looking at me that way?” Jack's brow was furrowed like a storm cloud, his eyes cold and accusing. She'd seen that look before. In Barbados. Slowly and deliberately, he took her hands and removed them from his necktie. “The party is over, Lady Castlemaine,” he said icily. He brushed past her and continued up the stairs to their room. A stunned Honour watched his back as he climbed the steps, then disappeared around the corner. A few seconds later she heard the door close solidly. Not slammed, but near enough. Bewildered, Honour began to look around the grand foyer, as if someone had the answers she needed. All she saw were the faces of the curious, politely averting their gaze while still taking in the spectacle. All except one, however. Rose Carlisle stood at the entrance to the foyer, drink in hand. Smiling like an assassin. She could feel her blood run suddenly ice cold. Rose had told him. The gossip-laden, lie-encrusted version of the events, but now he knew. Honour swallowed hard, fighting the back the tears that threatened to flow, and with legs that felt like lead she climbed the stairs again. As she did, she prayed that she could find the words that would make her husband understand. And forgive. As Honour rounded the corner to the hall that led to their room, she nearly ran into Nanny Grayson. The older woman's eyes were full of worry. “Mister Wolfe asked me to leave the room. He seems in a dark, terrible mood. Is something the matter, Rhiannon?” Honour looked the governess in the eyes and nodded her head slowly. “Yes. Everything. And it's my fault. I don't know how I'll ever make it right.” Nanny Grayson touched Honour's cheek and gave her a look of sympathy. “God will show you how, little one. Listen, and He will.” Honour blinked back tears, took a ragged breath, and went to the door. To her surprise, it wasn't locked. She took heart in that Jack hadn't completely shut her out. Not yet, anyway. She turned the knob the rest of the way and opened the door.

He froze at the doorway and turned back to her with an incredulous look on his face. “WHAT??” “Oh, she didn't tell you that bit? I thought you knew everything about the former Lady Castlemaine. For your sake, I certainly hope you sleep with your back to the wall.” Seething, Jack set the glasses down on the desk as carefully as he could and stood glaring at Rose. “Rose, I'm being calm, very calm about all this, in spite of your ridiculous claims! How dare you?” “Dare? Dare to tell the truth and help an old friend?” she said with an innocent shrug. “Jack, really. I only have your best interest at heart. I'd hate for you to end up like poor, dear Madoc. At least he was able to kill his attacker. Her lover.” Jack shook his head in disbelief. “This is beyond the pale, even for you.” “You want to know my theory?” she pressed on. “I think she put her lover up to it. Kill her husband, and they both run off with his fortune. Madoc Castlemaine was an expert with a sword. Everyone knew it. Except for her accomplice, that is. To his credit, the scoundrel was able to strike Madoc down. Not before Madoc ran him through, though.” “Rose, that's enough! Rhiannon would never be part of such a scheme!” “Then Rhiannon took all the jewels and money in the house and was never seen again. Until now, that is. Don't take my word for it, Jack. Everyone knows. Just ask. Frankly, I'm shocked she dared to show her face. Poor Madoc. He never deserved what she did to him.” Jack's mind reeled. He knew that name. Madoc. Honour would scream it in her nightmares, night after night. 'No, Madoc! Please, don't! NO!!' It physically sickened him to consider what Rose was telling him, but how could he ignore the words out of Honour's own mouth? “When?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “I'm sorry?” “WHEN?” “Oh, let me see,” pondered Rose, clearly enjoying the turn of events. “A little over two years ago, I believe.” “Two years...” he echoed hollowly. The timeline matched. She would have been in the Caribbean about six months before they met. Six months after the murder of her husband, and she willing to remarry on a whim? And that name! Castlemaine. Why was it so familiar? Suddenly, the pieces came together in his mind. Rhiannon Conaway Castlemaine. R.C. Castlemaine! It wasn't some mysterious party that had purchased the plantation in Barbados. It had been Honour herself! The realisation felt like a knife through Jack's heart. More secrets. More deception. How could she have kept this from him? He was startled by the touch of a hand on his arm. It was Rose, attempting to comfort him. She wore a doe-eyed look of sympathy that would have been laughable under any other circumstances. “Oh, Jack. My poor, sweet Jack. I'm so sorry to be the one to tell you the truth about her. This must be terrible for you. Here,” she said, offering one of the glasses, “Have some of this to settle your nerves.” “Dear God, Rose. What have you done?” came a voice from the doorway. Duckie stood at the entrance to the room, with a look of anger and shame on his face. Anger at his sister for her twisted games, and shame for failing his friends. Rose looked at her brother in exasperation. “Drake, how rude of you! We're having an important conversation. I'm sure whatever it is will wait.” “No,” Jack said quietly, “I've heard all I need to.” He turned on his heel to leave, but Duckie stopped him. “Jack, wait. You're not... You only have half the story. The wrong half. Please, don't believe what Rose has told you,” he implored. “How do you know what she...?” Jack's eyes went flinty. “You knew.” Duckie nodded regretfully. “Honour told me. After you were shot.” “The whole world knew about this, except for me?!” Jack asked hotly. But he stopped and stared when he looked over at Rose. She was laughing. “'Honour',” she snickered. “There's a joke of a name! I have to give it to her, though, she's an exceptional liar!” Jack gritted his teeth in anger and humiliation and stalked from the room. “Jack, she had no choice! Jack!” Duckie called after his friend. Finally, he turned back to glare at his sister. “You had no right to tell him.” Rose rolled her eyes. “Obviously somebody had to tell him. His closest friends couldn't be bothered.” “Damn you, Rose!” was the only reply Duckie could muster. She walked past her brother, casually sipping her rum. “Too late. I've been there a long time,” she answered as she strolled from the room.

As Jack was about to whisper in Honour's ear, the sound of someone nervously clearing her throat interrupted the moment. They turned to find Enydd, the girl who worked in the kitchen as a server, standing there looking anxious and uncomfortably out of place. She gave a clumsy curtsy. “Beggin' your pardon, Mrs Wolfe, but Nanny Grayson needs you right away,” she said. “Is something the matter with Zara?” asked Honour worriedly. “Nanny Grayson says the wee one won't stop cryin', mum.” “Have Nanny Grayson give Zara her toy rabbit. That always quiets her,” instructed Jack. “That's the problem, sir,” said Enydd. “She can't find the babe's rabbit nowhere.” “Oh, she's tossed it out of her crib again,” said Honour. “I know where it usually lands. Please tell Nanny Grayson I'll be up in a moment, would you?” Enydd gave another clumsy curtsy. “Yes, mum,” said the girl, and she hurried away. Honour looked around the room quickly and was relieved to see no sign of Rose. “I'll only be a couple of minutes, I promise,” she assured Jack. “Why don't you get us something to drink? All the dancing has made me thirsty.” Jack smiled and stroked her cheek. “All right, love. I can bear to have you away for that long, if it's our daughter taking you from me.” Honour smiled and kissed him quickly. “I promise! Oh, and could you find brandy or something? The punch is terribly sweet. Even rum would do.” “For you, anything,” he smiled back. “I know just where to look.” Jack watched as Honour hurried to the stairs and started up to their daughter's room. He never tired of looking at Honour or having her near. Every day, he found himself giving thanks that they had been given a second chance together to build a happy life, and he was determined to get it right this time. And Zara! What a blessing that little angel was. For all his years of avoiding commitments, much less fatherhood, Jack couldn't imagine returning to what he now knew was a hollow, empty existence. Finally, he could say he had found happiness and contentment. Jack made his way through the revellers, trading nods and smiles and the occasional brief pleasantry as he went. It really wasn't that much different than a busy port tavern, except this time he didn't have to keep a watchful eye for a drawn knife or pistol, even though he found himself checking for them. Honour was right, old habits die hard. Finally, he reached the hallway and followed it to Daffyd's study. A low fire had been left in the fireplace to keep the chill off. Jack took a slender stick of kindling and held one end of it in the coals until it caught flame. Using the improvised match, he lit one of the lamps and tossed the stick into the fireplace where it popped and crackled. Light from the lamp played dimly on the walls, providing just enough illumination for him to find the bottles of liquor Daffyd kept on one shelf of an enormous bookcase. Jack reached for the cut crystal decanter he knew contained a most excellent brandy when a smaller amber bottle caught his eye. It was squat and onion-shaped. A knowing smile spread across his lips as he picked it up and removed the cork. One sniff confirmed it: West Indies rum. With a practised eye, he held the bottle up to the light. Just enough for two healthy glasses, he judged. “Bad luck to empty a man's bottle when he's not there to enjoy it,” he said aloud. But Jack knew just how to counteract it. He had plenty of fine Barbados rum to replace it with once El Lobo was back in port. He filled two glasses with the dark liquid, then turned to put out the lamp and return to the party and his beloved. “Hello, Jack.” “Rose!” he said, surprised. “I didn't hear you come in. I was just headed back to the party.” “I don't suppose one of those is for me?” “Hardly.” “Oh, don't be so cold, Jack. You were fond of me at one time. Remember?” “And you made it clear what a waste of time that was,” he said impatiently. “Look, I have no interest in rehashing dead history with you. You'll excuse me. I need to find my wife.” Rose gave him an oily smile. “It's her history I want to rehash with you.” “It's obvious you don't like her, Rose. Why, I don't particularly care. But I won't sit by and listen to slander.” Rose took a couple more wobbly steps into the room and leaned against the desk more for support than effect. “The truth isn't slander.” “You're drunk.” “Maybe I am. That doesn't change the value of what I know. What you need to know about your sweet, young bride.” Jack rolled his eyes in disdain. “I know everything there is to know about Rhiannon. We keep no secrets. Now, good night,” he said as he walked past her toward the door. “Everything?” Rose asked loudly. “Even about her poor, dead, murdered husband?”

Honour eventually relaxed as the evening went along without incident. Duckie kept his word, ensuring Rose was occupied and distracted. It seemed that whenever the countess' eyes began to scan the room for Jack, her brother found some interesting looking person or couple he wanted to be introduced to, and proceeded to converse with them what she felt was an inordinate amount of time. Damn him for being so charming and well-read, she thought. He never failed to find a topic to banter on engagingly, always sure that she was included in the discussion. Rose had wanted nothing more than to talk to Jack alone for a few minutes and unmask that scheming girl who she was certain had tricked him into marriage. But as the hour grew later and the cognac numbed her senses further, revealing the Conaway's dirty little secret seemed less and less important. Meanwhile, Jack and Honour enjoyed themselves and the party. They would take occasional breaks from dancing to chat with Megan and Daffyd. Honour's oldest sister, Gwyneth, was there with her husband James Hamilton. Her ever-feisty sister Dilys was in attendance as well with her husband, Angus McFarland. Dilys' frank and witty comments kept everyone in stitches, as usual. “Would you look at Mrs Havershire? Doesn't she look lovely?” she asked. “All right, lovely for having crawled out of a three-hour bath. We should call her Prunella!” “Oh, Dilys!” laughed Gwyneth. “You're so wicked!” “You've been talking to Angus again, haven't you?” quipped Dilys. Megan and Daffyd made certain to introduce the Wolfes to the most important people at the ball, taking impish delight in how the guests listened with rapt attention to this rather mysterious but charming gentleman who, they were certain, was of the most impeccable breeding and social stature. It wasn't the first time Jack had been in this situation, but this time it felt very different. Now, he wasn't passing himself off as a member of legitimate society. He really was now, or at least moving rapidly in that direction. Husband, father, plantation and ship owner. It was a life Jack found very appealing. Standing off to the side, well out of the merry making, stood the stoic form of Lord Rhodri Conaway. He watched Jack with analytical coldness. Something was terribly wrong about this man, this surprise son-in-law, who was at once mannered and wild. Jack Wolfe was a walking contradiction in his eyes, and Rhodri disliked contradictions. Especially when the Conaway name was involved. Between Jack's evasiveness and Rhiannon's wilfulness, he had his suspicions, but no evidence. Perhaps one day he would get his answers. After finishing a delightful conversation with a wealthy exporter of furniture and other durable goods to the New World, Jack was surprised to find Honour was leading him back to the dance floor. “Why, Mrs Wolfe! I thought you were still resting after our last dance?” “Not hardly, Mr Wolfe!” she answered with a coquettish smile. “I still have plenty of energy. Dance with me.” Jack took his wife in his arms, perhaps holding her closer than politeness dictated, but they were married after all. Together, they began to move across the dance floor. “Plenty of energy, eh?” he smiled. “I know a much better way to expend it than dancing.” “No, that's still dancing. The way you prefer to dance. But the night is still young.” “You do love to tempt me, don't you, my love?” Honour felt herself blush. “And why should you have all the fun?” she giggled. “You're the handsomest man here, and more than one woman has had her eye on you this evening. I intend to keep them all jealous.” “There have been a great many eyes on you, too,” smiled Jack. “I do enjoy being the envy of the men around me.” “They may envy you, but the information still comes pouring out. It's incredible how easily you get people to tell you things.” Jack gave her a puzzled look. “What on earth do you mean?” Honour searched his eyes. “You really don't know? In that short space of time we talked to Mr Griffith and his wife, he told you the nature of his business, how many ships he uses and from which ports they sail, the kinds of goods and typical size of each shipment, how frequently they sail and where to.” “You're joking.” She shook her head, her golden tresses swaying as she did. “Think about it. Every bit of information a pirate would want to know. What to strike, where, and when, and the kind of cargo to expect.” “Why, my dear, you sound just like a villainous pirate!” “I was taught by the very best of the best. You honestly didn't realise that's how the conversation had turned?” Jack thought about it, then laughed out loud in surprise. “I guess I didn't! That wasn't my intention, Honour. What it terribly obvious?” “Only to me,” she replied tenderly. “I know you're done with that life.” “Yes, I am. And happily so.” “Old habits die hard?” He gave her a sly smile and leaned in close as they continued to dance. “Let me tell you about one old habit that will never die...”

Once the countess was out of hearing, Jack broke the trio's silence. “What the hell was all that about?” Duckie shook his head. “I am so sorry. Rose has once again... overindulged. A habit she was good at hiding when I last visited, but now... now it seems to be the largest part of her life.” “She hasn't changed a bit from the last time I saw her,” said Honour. “And she really has it in for you!” said Jack. “I thought you said she was a friend of the family.” “Of my father. Rose focuses on where the money is. Otherwise, you're useless to her.” Honour looked at Duckie and felt her face colour. “I'm sorry, Duckie. I shouldn't have said that.” “No, no, you're quite right, Honour,” Duckie said wearily. “Rose has always been a social climber. But she never understood that status is a vehicle, not a destination. She got everything she ever wanted, and a few things she never expected. Loneliness, for one.” He slowly shook his head. “It's terrible to say, but I pity her. I have to say, though, I thought she'd be happier to see you, Jack. You've been a topic of conversation almost from the moment I arrived at her home, even more so the past couple of days. It's almost as if she knew you'd be here.” “Me? Why on earth would she be talking about me, after all these years?” “I, well... I made the mistake of mentioning that you've become something of a success in your field,” began Duckie. Jack's mouth fell open. “Please tell me you didn't tell her...” “Oh, no! I told her you've done well for yourself as a ship's captain. Nothing beyond that. I also told her you are happily married, with a darling baby daughter.” “Forgive me, Ducks. I know how well you keep confidences,” said Jack. “Quite all right, Jack. I think we're all a bit off balance this evening. But it's early yet! I think we can still rally and enjoy the party,” Duckie said. “I'll tend to Rose unless she's already trapped some poor bloke in a conversation.” Strains of music could be heard starting in the great hall as the musicians took up their instruments. “Ah, see?” smiled Duckie. “Why don't you lovebirds run along enjoy the dance?” Jack held out his arm. “A dance, Mrs Wolfe?” “I thought you would never ask, Captain Wolfe,” she said with a smile as she took his arm. The couple started toward the great hall when Honour paused after a few steps. “Just a moment, Jack. I need to thank Duckie.” “All right, love.” Honour hurried back to their friend and kissed his cheek. “Please keep Rose away from Jack, Duckie,” she whispered. Duckie could see the dread in her eyes. “This is about what you told me on the ship, yes?” She bit her lip and nodded. “I will. I promise,” he said with a squeeze of her hands. “Thank you.” Honour smiled, then hurried back to her husband's side. The great hall was alive with light, music, people dancing, and people watching others dance. Jack led Honour inside the circle of spectators and bowed deeply before her with just a hint of a mock flourish, a muted version of the foppish bow he would tease her with on board ship. She covered her mouth as she giggled and returned his bow with an exaggerated curtsy. Jack grinned as he took her into his arms, and they began the dance. “So,” Honour began, “you and the countess...” “Yes, me and the countess.” “You actually courted her?” “I did. Though she wasn't a countess then, of course. Just an aspiring social climber who had no time for an aspiring professor.” “I hope you never proposed to her.” Jack looked at her, and after a couple seconds, cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, you did not!” she said, aghast. “Seriously? No!” “What can I say? I was young and foolish. I made a lot of stupid mistakes.” “To hear Briggs tell it, you never stopped making those.” “Why should I stop? I got very good at it.” Honour laughed merrily. “All right, then. What about me?” “I would say you've made stupid mistakes, but there have been a couple that get right up there...” She playfully slapped his chest. “That's not what I was asking, and you know it! I mean, what about me? Was I a stupid mistake?” Jack gazed lovingly into her eyes as the corners of his mouth drew softly into a smile. “No, Honour. You are by far the most brilliant mistake I've ever made,” he said with a wink. “And I shall love you forever.” She touched his cheek as they moved in time to the music. “You'd better, mister. Because I'll love you just as long, and more.” “Then we'd better pick out a really nice china pattern. Forever is a very long time to eat off boring plates.”

Jack and Honour looked at each other in surprise. “You know her?” they asked simultaneously. “An... old acquaintance, from years ago,” Jack said, regarding Rose coldly. “When I was still at university. How do you know her? She got your name wrong.” “Like you said, and old acquaintance. A friend of my father's. Poor thing, she's must be in her cups already if she's forgotten my name,” replied Honour quickly. Her mind was racing. Why that vindictive shrew Rose Carlisle, of all people? Everyone knew what a chatty gossip the Countess was, especially once she had started drinking. The fact she knew Jack made things even worse. The haughty older woman had looked down her nose at Honour from the moment they met. It had taken every bit of self control Honour had to trade polite nothings with Rose at official functions, chalking up the snide and condescending comments she endured to jealousy on the countess' part. Why did Rose have to show up now, and why did she have to blurt that name? Honour had to keep Jack away from her before she could say anything else. The couple continued together down the stairs toward their friend and his inebriated companion. All eyes were on them as they did. Jack felt uncomfortable being the centre of attention. Commanding the attention of a rowdy tavern crowd was one thing. This felt more like being on display. Honour was taking it all in stride with grace and charm. This was a special night for the Welsh social elite. And here was Jack Wolfe, pirate and smuggler, in attendance as a member of the esteemed Conaway family. He smiled at the absurdity of this cosmic joke, and resolved then and there to enjoy every moment of rubbing elbows with the monied blue-bloods. All right, so he was technically a former pirate, now a wealthy plantation owner. That didn't detract from the sweetness of the situation. “Are you all right, Jack?” Honour asked. “You had a strange look on your face for a moment.” “No, darling,” he smiled. “Everything is fine. And why wouldn't it be? I have the most beautiful woman in all of Wales on my arm. The most beautiful woman in all the world.” Why, Captain Wolfe! You make me blush.” “I'll do more than that once this party is over, Mrs. Wolfe,” he said with a wink. “I'm counting on it,” she giggled as they reached the foot of the stairs, and Honour gave her husband a smile that could only belong to a woman in love. They crossed the marble tiled floor over to where the perplexed Duckie and a smirking Rose stood waiting. “Ducks!” beamed Jack. “Rose,” he said, with far less enthusiasm before turning back to his friend. “What an unexpected surprise! I didn't expect to see you here!” “That makes two of us, Jack!” laughed Duckie. “Dear God, I barely recognised you! I haven't seen you dressed like this, well... ever! And Honour! Look at you! My dear, aren't you beautiful!” Honour smiled and kissed his cheek. “It's so good to see you, Duckie! We didn't expect to see you until the ship was back in port.” “Yes, well, it would seem Fate had different plans for us all,” he chuckled. “'Honour',” interrupted Rose. “Have you quit going by Rhiannon, Lady Cas--” Honour cut her off fast. “Mrs. WOLFE will suffice, Rose. Mrs. Rhiannon Wolfe. 'Honour' is a nickname I picked up in my travels.” Jack had no idea what had transpired between Honour and Rose to cause such palpable tension between them, but he did not care for his wife being spoken to in such a patronising manner. He'd heard that particular tone in Rose's voice too often. “Hello, Rose,” he said as cordially as his temper would allow. “Seeing you here is an unexpected surprise as well. Who here are you the guest of this evening?” Rose's mouth popped open in a look of complete indignation. “Why, I'll have you know...” “I'm Rose's guest, Jack,” said Duckie before his sister could make a scene. Still scowling, she took a large sip of her drink. “Rose was married to the late Lord Edwin Carlisle, Earl of Shrewsbury.” “Your sister is a Countess?” asked Jack. “Well, you managed to follow your ambitions, Rose. Congratulations.” “Rose is your sister?” Honour asked incredulously. “Yes, Jack, I am the Countess of Shrewsbury, Lady Rose Carlisle,” Rose answered hotly. “And yes, Rhiannon, or whatever you call yourself now, I am Drake's sister. But look at you! You managed to get yourself a brand new husband. I'd like to know how you managed that, but I have an idea. Did Jack tell you he courted me once?” “Let me think,” said Honour, seeming to search her memory. “No! Not once. Ever.” “I'll bet there's lot you haven't told him, either--” “Rose!” said Duckie sharply. “Would you please give me a moment with my friends? I have some business to discuss with them. I'll only be a few moments.” “Fine,” Rose answered curtly. With a defiant jut of her chin, she turned and unsteadily made her way across the room to the punchbowl.

A gentle snow fell silently on the hamlet of Llanfaes, just outside Beaumaris. Drake Gander watched the drifting flakes settle on the sleeping farmlands from the window of the cottage he and his sister, Rose, were staying for the next few days. He sighed wistfully. As beautiful as the snow-covered hills were, he longed for the lush green islands and warming sun of the Caribbean. As a boy, he loved the wintertime. But now it felt almost claustrophobic. He was used to taking a book with him to sit upon the open deck and enjoy the fresh air. A seat indoors by the fire would have to suffice for now. “One more day until this silly ball, then another four or five until the ship is in port,” Duckie said to himself. “You can hold on that long.” It wasn't that he didn't love his sister. Rose could be trying, to say the least. A month under the same roof with her was proving to be his limit. To call the house a cottage was an exercise in understatement. It would have easily served as a proper home for a family of six, with everyone having their own comfortable bedroom. The only thing preventing that was the lack of a kitchen. Meals were taken at the manor house, which belonged to Kiran Stapleton, a wealthy land baron and friend of Rose's departed husband, Edwin. The food was rich and plentiful, as was Kiran himself. He was a most accommodating host, as generous as he was rotund. His wife, Ffanci, made sure their every need was seen to. But for Duckie, it felt more like a gilded cage. He longed for the simplicity of life aboard ship again. His quarters, his surgery, his domain. The upcoming week couldn't pass fast enough. Duckie took a sip of brandy, and turned as he heard the latch on the front door close. Rose stood at the entryway, shaking the snow from her cloak. “Taking a stroll in the fresh air, sister of mine?” he asked. Rose gave him a bemused look. “And why would I do such a thing in this beastly cold, brother of mine? I was dispatching the driver on an errand.” “You did? I wish you had told me you were going to do that. I had a favour to ask of Mister Pertwee.” “Who?” “The driver. Silas Pertwee. Honestly, Rose, do you not even know the names of the people you employ?” Rose waved her hand dismissively. “I have four drivers, Drake. You can't expect me to remember all their names.” She walked to the cabinet and poured herself a glass of cognac. “No, I suppose not. That would take effort.” She rolled her eyes as she sipped the honey-coloured liquor. “Oh, don't start. You really should learn to relax and enjoy the finer things.” “Not when it means denying others simple respect, such as knowing their names.” “You missed your calling, Drake,” she sighed. “The way you preach, the ministry would have been a good vocation choice. I'll have you know, I was doing you a favour.” “How so?” “I sent Mister Pertwee to the port, to enquire if your ship had arrived yet.” Duckie gave her a dubious look. “And what name did you tell him to ask about?” “El Londo de Par, of course!” Duckie laughed and shook his head. “Close, but so very wrong. You told him nothing of the sort.” “And how can you be so sure, Doctor Gander?” “It's El Lobo del Mar. The Sea Wolf, in Spanish.” “A trifling mistake. I never claimed to be conversant in Spanish. They'll correct him at the port,” she shot back, obviously flustered. She polished off her drink and poured another. “You sent him to enquire about one Captain Jack Wolfe. Didn't you?” “Drake, you see conspiracies where none exist,” she answered with a wounded tone. “Must you interrogate me over every kindness I try to give?” Duckie sighed. “I'm sorry, Rose. I do appreciate what you're trying to do, but it was unnecessary. El Loboisn't due back in port for another six days, and Mister Briggs is a very punctual man.” “Even so,” replied Rose, “He may have come back early. Either way it's a bit more coin in Mister Pertwee's pocket. If it will make you feel any better, I shall pay him double what I promised for his bother.” “There's no need for that, now...” “No, I insist! If I sent him on a wild goose chase, then I must make amends. End of discussion.” “All right, then,” Duckie smiled resignedly. “I'm sure he'll appreciate your generosity.” “He had better! I'm doing this to soothe your sensibilities. Honestly, Drake, your moral compass will drain me dry at this rate,” she teased. Duckie smiled at his sister. There was the sense of humour he remembered Rose having. Perhaps he had misjudged her after all. Meanwhile, a heavy black coach came to a stop outside the office of the Beaumaris harbour master. Silas Pertwee secured the reins and hopped down from driver's bench. A small bell attached to the door announced his arrival to the harbour master, Mister Wickliff, who looked up from his ledger in annoyance at the young man. “Aye, lad? What can I help you with?” he asked. “I've got an urgent message for Captain Jack Wolfe,” Silas said, just as Rose had instructed him. “Is his ship here? It's very important that I find him.” “Oh, all right,” Wickliff scowled. “Wolfe, did you say? Do you have the name of his ship?” “Yes, sir. El Lobo del Mar.” Wickliff opened another heavy ledger and began leafing through it. “I'm certain there's no ship in port of that name, but let me look for this captain...” He turned to the most recent entries and ran his finger down the page, reciting names as he went. “Walters, Wembly, Whitting, ah! Here it is! Jack Wolfe. Nice penmanship. And just as I thought, his ship isn't due back in port for a week yet.” “Oh,” Silas said with obvious disappointment. “Did he leave word as to where he would be staying?” “I'm afraid I'll have to know the nature of your business to give you that, my young friend.” Silas dug in his pocket and retrieved the envelope Rose had given him in case of this very situation. He handed it over to Wickliff, who opened it immediately. The harbour master's eyes grew wide as he read the bank promissory note for 20 pounds sterling. “Well, this is urgent, indeed!” exclaimed Wickliff. “Says here your Captain Wolfe is staying at Bancroft Hall, right here near Beaumaris. I'm sorry, but I don't have directions for you.” Silas Pertwee smiled broadly. “No worries, sir. I shall ask around and find my way. Thank you for your time.” The young driver left the harbour master's office with a spring in his step, knowing his mistress would be very happy with the information he'd gained, and that he would be collecting the handsome reward she offered.

The two lovers looked at one another lovingly as they caught their breath. “I don't care how much you dress as the gentleman, Jack,” Honour smiled, her face aglow as her golden hair spilled across her pillow. “You still make love like a pirate.” Jack caressed her cheek. “Would you have it any other way?” “No!” she giggled as she ran her finger across his chest. “Never. I hope it's always like this with us.” “As long as I draw a breath, it will be,” vowed Jack. “Fair warning, I intend to keep breathing a very, very long time.” “I should hope so! You've spoiled me for other men.” “Ah! My master plan is a success!” They laughed together, and Jack gave her lips a lingering kiss. “But I'm afraid I neglected to foresee one thing; you've spoiled me for any other woman.” Honour smiled wickedly. “You're not the only one with a master plan, Jack Wolfe. Though I'm sure half the Caribbean will lament my victory!” “Only half? Give me some credit, darling!” he teased. “Hold on. I have an idea.” She giggled again, this time gently raking her nails against his skin. “You're not going to let me get any rest this night, are you?” “No fair reading my mind!” he protested. “It's not your mind I was reading...” Jack moved to kiss her again, but when Honour closed her eyes, he kissed the tip of her nose. Her eyes popped open in surprise. “First, we need to celebrate,” he said with a devilish wink. He reached under the bed and produced a bottle of merlot and two glasses. Honour took one glass, then he pulled the cork from the bottle with his teeth and poured the wine. Honour playfully took the cork from her husband's teeth and returned it to the bottle. Jack raised his glass. “To our master plans!” “To our shared brilliance! We managed to snare each other forever,” she said as they clinked their glasses. “How little you knew I had set my sights on you that day, all those years ago.” “What I want to know is how you knew I have a weakness for blueberries.” “Women's intuition.” “I bow to your superior cunning and wiles.” “You'll have to do more than that.” “Any hints?” he winked. “I trust your imagination.” “I can imagine a lot.” “And that's one reason I love you,” she smiled over the rim of her glass. She took a sip of wine and sighed. “Do you hear that sound?” “What sound? I don't hear anything.” “That's just it. I can't believe Zara is still sleeping!” “I am, too, with all that racket we just made.” Honour gave a look of mock indignation and slapped Jack's arm. She set her glass down on the bedside table and got out of bed. Jack watched approvingly as she retrieved her dressing gown from the floor and wrapped it around herself. Quietly, she padded over to the door to Zara's room and opened it. Candlelight fell upon the child's cradle to reveal a peacefully sleeping little girl, still clutching her favourite toy rabbit. Honour smiled and closed the door with a soft click of the latch. As she walked back to the bed, she noticed Jack seemed lost in thought. She could see small furrows in his brow, and he was frowning slightly. Not wanting to lose the light mood of the night, she gave a low whistle to catch his attention. “Oh, sailor...” Jack blinked and looked up just as Honour let the gown slip from around her and fall to the floor. “And there is another reason I love you!” laughed Jack, and he patted the bed. “Get back in here where you belong.” She gave him a coy smile as she picked up her wine glass and slipped in between the warm covers beside her husband. “You know I have to ask.” “About?” Honour took Jack's hand. “I saw the start of it. The frowny face. The face that tells me your are thinking about something serious.” “You know me so well,” he said. “Honour, this has all been so perfect. Well, except for your father. A sour grape, that one.” “Father has always been that way. What hurts the most is how he never fails to put the Conaway family name before the needs of the family itself. But I do enjoy the way you handle him.” Jack smiled. “He's not that difficult to manage. Too puffed up with protocol and decorum to really come after me. But I'll tell you what-- part of me would love, really love, to tell him the truth about me. Just to see the steam come out of his ears like a kettle.” Honour laughed a little, but part of her worried a little that Jack might actually follow through on that whim. Lord Rhodri Conaway was an expert at getting under people's skin. “You never really would tell him, would you?” “What? Oh, no, darling,” Jack reassured her. “He's being cordial enough toward you, and I don't want to upset that balance. Besides, he strikes me as someone who wouldn't think twice about handing me over to the authorities to protect the family honour,” he said, finishing with affected snobbery. “Nor will I have him lock me up just to teach you a lesson. I mean, think of it! After everything I've seen and been through, only to end up in a prison? In Cardiff? How unglamorous is that?” “Hey, I happen to like Cardiff, thank you very much!” Honour laughed. “There's a bit of good news. I'd be assured you'd find a reason to come visit, if only for the chance to shop,” he teased. Honour sipped her wine casually, and with a toss of her hair replied, “There's a fabulous leather-works near the prison. They make the most divine boots. It will give me an excuse to drop by to see you.” “And Zara?” “She's a little young for boots, don't you think?” Jack clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing too loudly. “She is your daughter, Honour. I was surprised to see knit booties on her feet, not leather ones.” The lovers laughed together and exchanged affectionate glances. But Honour could still see that hint of trepidation in his eyes. “You're really going to miss this place?” she asked, knowing there was more to it. Jack nodded. “This place, this time together, the warmth and generosity of Megan and Daffyd... yes. I will miss it. Darling, this is the first time since those first few weeks we were married that I've been able to let my guard down and enjoy the moment. No cares, no responsibilities outside of you and Zara. I like it, Honour. I like the peace. It's a warm cocoon I'd rather not leave. But I know we must. And I'm dreading it.” Honour brushed a long lock of hair away from his face. “But we'll have that again, once we're back in Barbados.” “I know, and I want that more than anything in the world. A safe, peaceful haven where we can raise Zara and live out our lived together.” He sighed, and gave a melancholy look. “Yet, before we can begin that life, we have to sail to the end of the New World aboard a pirate ship with a pirate crew, and I, their pirate captain. Once there, I have to find a way to walk away from it all forever. The Account, the crew, the ship... all of it.” Honour shook her head. “I can't see you giving up the Lobo. Maybe you could sell off the guns and refit her? There has to be something we can do. You love that ship.” Jack looked deep into her eyes. “I love you more.” Honour could feel the tears begin to well. “You told me once, a long time ago, that you could never be without that ship. It's too much a part of you.” “I know better now,” he smiled tenderly. “How do you do it?" Honour asked. "Do what? I mean, yeah, I know a thing or two about female anatomy, and what works. Like that little thing I do that make you..." "NOT THAT!! I mean, you've seen so much. So many terrible things, yet you manage to stay optimistic. How do you carry on?" Jack affected a haughty air. “I am English! It's what we do.” She giggled and poked him playfully in the ribs. “I'm serious, silly! It's as if nothing can hold you down.” "Honour, I had no future before you. That made it easy to endure anything and everything. When one has nothing to look forward to, anything is imaginable, and tolerable. But now, I have you and Zara. I can step away from that old life and forge a new future. You have made that possible for me. And for that, I'm ever in your debt. With you, I can imagine anything." Honour finished her wine and set the glass aside on the bedside table. She snuggled down in the bed and laid her head on Jack's chest, and thought for a moment about the many things she had endured over the years. No matter what, she found a way, as Jack put it, to carry on. But instead of the usual bitterness that come with those memories, Honour found comfort. Just as Jack found boundless hope in her and Zara, she found the same in him and their daughter as well. Honour realised just how she and Jack were kindred spirits. More than that. They were, in every sense, soul mates. Jack stroked her hair. “You're quiet all of a sudden. Did I upset you?” “No,” replied Honour softly. “No, I'm happy.” “Did I answer your question? I know it probably doesn't make sense...” “Jack, it makes all the sense in the world. Because you do the same for me.” “I'm glad I make you happy, Honour. Even when we're not talking about that little thing I do that...” He paused, waiting for her reaction. “Yes?” she asked coyly. “Usually you interrupt me when I start talking bawdy.” Honour looked up at her husband with a gleam in her eye. “Why do you think I didn't bother putting my nightgown back on?” “Why, you little temptress!” smiled Jack. “How deliciously lewd of you!” “Jack, are you going to talk for the rest of the night?” “I guess you're going to have to find a way to shut me up.” She snaked her hand behind his neck and drew him to her. “Shut up, Jack.”

Rhodri cleared his throat. “Well, thank you for enlightening me, John. Another of your well-played investments. Nicely done.” “I can't take the credit for this one, Rhodri,” Jack smiled. “Congratulate your daughter! It was, um, Rhiannon's desire to buy the plantation. And buy it, she did.” Honour gave Jack a surprised look. “Um, well, yes, I did,” she stammered. “I positively fell in love with Barbados, and wanted to raise Zara there.” “I must say, I'm impressed,” said Rhodri as he regarded his youngest daughter with new eyes. “I never thought you had a mind for business, the way your head was always in the clouds.” Honour sat up a little straighter, trying to keep the defiant edge out of her voice. “It was the right decision, and I made it.” “Conaways have always had a good eye for land,” pronounced Rhodri. “It's in the blood.” “In the blood, my arse,” Honour muttered. “I'm sorry? I didn't catch that,” said Rhodri. Honour took a quick sip of wine. “I said, we've made it into an art.” Lord Conaway puffed up with pride. “Quite right! We have at that.” Honour gave Megan a wide-eyed look, and Megan pretended to dab her mouth with her napkin to cover her smile. It was a game the Conaway girls had played time and again at the supper table since they were little, wordlessly expressing their boredom or exasperation and trying to make the others laugh as their father droned on about politics and whatnot. Jack held his composure and said, “Blood or not, it was a brilliant move on her part, for which I am proud and grateful. And we'll make it the perfect home for Zara.” “Provided the sugar market holds,” added Rhodri. “How many years until the note is paid off?” “What note?” asked Jack flatly. “Why, the note on the property, of course. Surely they have banks in Barbados,” laughed Rhodri. “The plantation is paid for, Father,” said Rhiannon coolly. “It was a cash transaction.” Rhodri stared at Honour, then gave Jack a suspicious look. “It would seem you have indeed managed to do well for yourself. But doing what, I would still like to know?” Jack's coy smile returned. “As you said, well-played investments. Shipping, warehousing, trade... I'm quite industrious.” “And more than a little evasive,” Rhodri said with growing impatience. “Anyone for dessert? I'm starving for something sweet!” interrupted Megan. “Oh, me!” said Honour quickly. “You always have the most delicious sweets, Megan.” “It's nothing extravagant, really. Apples with egg custard and cream.” Megan motioned to one of the kitchen staff. “Enydd, please bring out the desserts, would you?” The sisters had jumped to another game they had become practiced at; derailing their father's inquiries. “It's a shame it's still winter,” continued Megan. “We could have had your very favourite.” Honour's face broke into a grin. “Blueberries?” “Yes, of course! Blueberries! Oh, John, you should have seen Rhiannon when she was a little girl,” laughed Megan. “She would slip outside and head right for the blueberry patches, with Muir in tow. Then she'd stuff her pockets full of blueberries and take off on one of her adventures. When she and Muir finally came home, her fingers, lips and dress would be stained from the juice!” “It was impossible to keep her in nice clothes,” sighed Rhodri. Jack turned and grinned at his giggling wife. “Now this I have to hear about. What adventures?” “Just childish things,” Honour laughed demurely. “Nothing special...” “Her favourite thing to do,” said Megan, “was to go down to the docks and look at the tall ships. In love with the sea, that one has always been! Bold, too. She'd even strike up conversations with sailors!” Rhodri looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. Honour was blushing fiercely. “Oh, I did not!” “Well, that's what you told us!” countered Megan. “I'm sorry, darling, but it's entirely believable!” Jack laughed. “I can practically see you, all mussed from playing in the berry patch, with Muir by your side. I'll bet you had squashed blueberries in your pockets...” His laughter trailed off, and he gave his wife a strangely quizzical look. His mind went back to that day on the docks of Beaumaris when the precocious little blueberry stained girl with her wolf-dog talked him into taking her aboard the Laura Anne for a tour. A precocious little girl named Rhiannon, and her dog Muir. Honour's laughter trailed off, too, as she searched her husband's face. “What? What is it?” Jack chuckled and shook his head. “I'll tell you later, my love. But when we land in Barbados, remind me to plant a blueberry patch or two. I'd hate for Zara to miss out.”

Megan, Daffyd, and Lord Conaway were seated at the table in the formal dining room. The room was appointed much like the rest of the Llewellyn home; understated elegance. Flickering lamp light illuminated family portraits hung on richly panelled walls. One of the servants was busy collecting dinner plates from the large open hutch opposite the fireplace. Rhodri, of course, had claimed the high-backed chair at the head of the long, narrow cherry table. Megan sat to his left, with Daffyd beside her. They chatted pleasantly while the kitchen staff filled their waiting wine glasses and completed the final preparations for the meal. A heavy tureen sat at the centre of the table, brimming with pheasant stew. Along with it were several loaves of fresh caraway seed bread. Jack and Honour paused outside the entrance of the dining room. Honour's brow was furrowed in worry. Why, of all times, did her father have to be there? It didn't help that things had already gotten contentious between him and Jack. Would he abide by Megan's request? Honour could feel her stomach tighten with dread. “I know that look, darling,” Jack said quietly. “I can handle him, don't you worry. At the end of this evening, the only thing of substance he'll have learned about me is that I won't be trifled with. And I won't let him torment you. I have no time nor respect for any man who would turn out his own child for no good reason the way he did you.” “Why, Mister Wolfe! Are you my knight in shining armour this night?” she teased. Jack grinned at her. “There's a lot of rust here, but yes, Mrs. Wolfe. I shall defend you against the dragon. Tonight, and always.” He drew Honour to him and tenderly kissed her lips. As they parted, she looked into his eyes. “Jack, he can be so very cruel.” Jack gave her a wink. “Of that I have little doubt. But when is the last time he tangled with a pirate?” “Um... never, that I know of.” “Well, then it's him you ought to be worried about, darling. Shall we? The food smells wonderful, and for once I'm hungry for something other than you.” Honour giggled. “You're making me blush! I can't go in with red cheeks!” “Sure you can! Let them wonder. Besides, we're married. We're entitled to a little hallway passion now and then. Oh, look at those cheeks now!” Honour playfully slapped Jack on the chest, then took his arm. With her head held high, she and her husband made their entrance. But despite his show of bravado to boost Honour's confidence, one worry nagged at Jack. “Rhiannon. Her name is Rhiannon, not Honour. Don't mess this, or you'll be explaining more than you ever wanted to...” “Ah, there's the happy couple!” chimed Megan. “Please, do join us!” She caught Honour's eye, and with a smirk she made a brief motion to her cheeks. Honour rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out quickly. Jack held Honour's chair as she sat down across from Daffyd, and Jack took the seat between her and her father. He fully expected Rhodri to start in with pointed questions at some point, and he didn't want Honour caught in the crossfire. “The food smells so good, and I am famished!” said Jack cheerily. “It's pheasant stew, from birds taken here on the property,” said Daffyd. “I make sure grain is put out through the winter to keep them close and plump. Shall we dig in?” “Perhaps Father would like to make a toast to start things off?” Megan suggested. Rhodri cleared his throat and thought for a moment before raising his wine glass. Oratory was his stock and trade in the House of Lords, and Jack silently prayed that the food would still be warm by the time the toast was completed. “This occasion has brought many surprises with it. Many surprises, indeed. The least of which being that my youngest daughter is wed to an intelligent if not somewhat mysterious man who obviously loves her. And together they have brought a beautiful daughter into the ranks of the Conaway family. So on this night, I wish to express my thanks to you, John, and to Daffyd as well. It is gratifying to know my daughters, and grandchildren, are so well taken care of. God bless us all.” “Here, here!” said Daffyd. They all took the customary sip of wine, and one of the servants began filling the bowls full of hot stew and placing them in front of the diners. The dinner conversation was light, but Lord Conaway remained oddly quiet. Finally, he broke his silence. “Megan tells me you and Daffyd were off on business today, John. Another one of your investments, I take it?” Jack gave a small smile. It had taken Rhodri a while to make his move, and there it was. “In a way, yes. I wanted to make sure our passage to Barbados was in still order, and finalise the arrangements. Port fees, and such. The usual.” “Do you always oversee such arrangements so closely? I'd call that a bit unusual. I thought the ship's owner was responsible for such things.” “I don't like leaving things to chance. It's not in my nature.” “More stew, anyone? Or bread?” Daffyd interrupted. “Please,” Jack answered quickly. “I was hungrier than I thought.” “You must be anxious to return to the New World and your latest endeavour, then,” Rhodri continued. He was determined to find out more about his new son-in-law. There was a shadiness about the younger man that didn't sit well with him. “Has Rhiannon refreshed your memory as to your acreage?” Jack smiled politely. “The subject never came up. Too busy doting over my wife and child to think about it, really.” “Five hundred,” Honour said with a hint of nervousness in her voice. Rhodri chuckled scoffingly. “Five hundred acres? That's hardly what I would call an estate!” Jack took a deep breath. “Lord Conaway, do you have any idea how much larger Wales is in comparison to Barbados?” “Not exactly,” Rhodri hedged. “I do know it's one of the largest islands England has colonised in the New World.” “I thought as much. But it's an easy enough mistake for someone to make. Wales is over seventy-five times the size of Barbados. So you see, our five hundred acres for sugar cane is easily worth more per square foot than any turnip fields here.” Honour had to bite her lip to keep from giggling at Jack putting the grand Lord Conaway in his place. Megan was having similar problems, while Daffyd managed to empty his wine glass.

Jack's voice could be heard clearly as he and Daffyd came down the hall, and it gave Honour a bit of comfort. He was in his element, in the midst of telling Daffyd a story. “... and when I finally managed to pull her sword free, that poor tree hung there as best it could until it finally fell over!” “She did all that?” laughed Daffyd. “Believe me, I was just as surprised! She's a force to be reckoned with when she puts her mind to it.” “But of course! She's a Conaway, after all!” Megan gave her sister a bemused look, and Honour could feel her face colour a bit. Rhodri stood impassively, a look Honour knew all too well. He was waiting to pass judgement. First impressions were everything with her father, and second chances, if there were any to be had, came with a price. Honour couldn't help but think how he would react if Jack were to appear dressed in is customary shift, replete with high boots, breeches, a roomy silk shirt in the style that seasoned swordsmen preferred, a waistcoat, and his long brown hair free and wild. Not that she disliked the way he dressed since they came to Wales, though she often teased him about looking so prim and respectable. Beneath that polished, gentlemanly exterior was the untameable man she loved. “Rhodri! What an unexpected surprise!” exclaimed Daffyd. “We had no idea were coming home. How are things in London?” Jack paused at the doorway and looked first at Lord Conaway, then to Honour still standing by the fireplace. He could see she was upset, clutching Zara to her as if the Devil himself was in the room. “Frustrating, thanks to the Lord Protector. Mark my words, Daffyd, that man is dangerous. I wouldn't be surprised if he disbands both Houses, he's that mad,” said Lord Conaway. “But as you say, what's bad for England is good for Wales,” chuckled Daffyd. “And who do we have here?” asked Rhodri. “Oh! Pardon my manners,” said Daffyd. “This is Rhiannon's husband, Cap--” “JOHN Wolfe,” interjected Megan. Jack quirked an eyebrow, and she gave him a wide-eyed nod. He looked over at Honour. Her eyes told him everything he needed to know. “That's right, John Wolfe,” Jack said glibly. He stepped forward and shook Lord Conaway's hand firmly. “I've heard so much about you.” “All good, I should think.” “Yes, there's that. You'll pardon me, your Lordship. I've been missing my wife and child all day.” Jack went to Honour and searched her eyes. “Are you all right?” he asked quietly. She looked into his eyes and feigned a pleasant expression. “No,” she whispered. Jack set his jaw, and gave Honour a slight nod. “You look tired, darling. I know Zara can be a handful to look after. Why don't you have a bit of a lie down before supper?” Honour smiled tiredly at him and said, “I think that would be a good idea. Here. She's been asleep only a short while.” She gently bundled Zara off into Jack's waiting arms. The sleeping child stirred a little, then took a handful of her father's waistcoat lapel and relaxed against him. “There we are. Safe as houses.” Jack kissed Honour on the cheek and smiled reassuringly. “I'll come get you when it's time to eat, love.” Honour looked at Jack, then to her father, then back again. “You'll pardon me, please,” she said as she brushed past her father and went up the stairs. “Daffyd, do call for the nanny,” said Rhodri. “There's no reason for John to be saddled with the child whilst we chat.” “No need, thank you,” Jack said quickly. “I prefer to spend every moment with my daughter that I can.” “Well, it's your choice, of course,” Rhodri demurred. “That it is. And she's happy right here. Who am I to disturb such peace?” smiled Jack. “How old is she now?” asked Rhodri. “Oh, almost ten months now. She took her very first step only a couple days ago. Destined for great things, this one is.” “Forgive me saying this, John, but you dote on that child as if you've only just seen her. I daresay you're going to spoil her.” “Then spoil her I shall, Lord Conaway,” Jack declared, with more than a little defiance in his voice. “My choice, remember?” The older man took the hint. “Please, we're family now. Call me Rhodri. After all, that is my grandchild you're holding.” “Fair enough, Rhodri,” smiled Jack. “But you'll forgive me for thinking of her as my daughter first, and your granddaughter second. Seeing as we've just met, and all.” Jack knew that Rhodri's presence was what has upset Honour so terribly, and he could read the lord's haughtiness as if it were emblazoned on the very walls of the room. It had been a long time since he had verbally sparred with someone other than Honour. This was going to be a treat. Though the rewards of such discourse with Honour were sweet, indeed. “Shall we retire to the study?” asked Daffyd uneasily. He led them into his office cum retreat. Jack settled into a high-backed leather chair and smoothed Zara's curls. Rhodri took the chair opposite him, striking a regal, if relaxed, pose. Daffyd busied himself pouring brandies for them all. “I understand you've bought a sugar plantation in Barbados,” began Rhodri. “A lucrative, if far flung operation. How many acres?” Jack thought for a moment. “I'm not quite sure, to be honest. Hon-- Rhiannon would know that better than I.” “You don't know the size of your own plantation? That's a bit odd, don't you think?” “Just because I'm fuzzy on a particular figure doesn't mean I'm not keen on making the enterprise a success, Rhodri.” “All the same, leaving such details in the hands of a woman...” “I'm sorry, your lordship. Is there something lacking in the mental faculties of the Conaway women I should know about? A genetic deficiency, perhaps?” “Of course not! The Conaway line is strong! How dare you insinuate...” “Actually, you insinuated, Rhodri. Rhiannon is by far one of the most brilliant, insightful people I've met in all my travels. You do her a disservice, suggesting I shouldn't trust her with details.” Daffyd knocked back his brandy and poured another. Rhodri smiled to himself. “Touché, John. Perhaps I am old and set in my ways. I forget that there is a brave new world out there, far from the decorum of the motherland.” “New lands, new ideas. It pays to be flexible,” said Jack. “Yes, quite. Megan tells me you were a wealthy man before becoming a sugar farmer.” Daffyd tried hard not to choke on his drink. Honour had told him and Megan of the Dutch ship Jack had plundered and the subsequent riches he had come away with; the entire year's profits of the Dutch East India Company. “Oh, a few well placed investments here, some useful information there. It all adds up over time,” Jack answered coyly. “So, you weren't always of means, then.” “I'm going to check on supper. Please, continue,” said Daffyd, and he hastily left the room. Jack looked down at Zara and smiled. “No, I wasn't. The son of a shipwright. My father scrimped and saved to send me to university. Took nearly every penny he had.” “And your course of study?” “Philosophy and literature.” Rhodri snickered. “The liberal arts? That hardly prepares one for the world of finance and business.” “And yet, I've done all right. Well enough that both Rhiannon and Zara need never worry about money as long as they live.” “Really! And may I ask, as Rhiannon's father and Zara's grandfather, exactly how much are you worth?” Jack smiled enigmatically. “You may ask...” Lord Conaway stared at him expectantly. Jack cleared his throat and took a sip of brandy. “That was a little joke.” “Very little,” answered Rhodri sternly. “Supper will be ready in fifteen minutes,” said Daffyd as he entered the room. “Ah! Then I should wake Rhiannon so she can make herself ready,” said Jack hastily. He rose from the chair, careful not to disturb the sleeping Zara, and headed for the door. “We'll continue this conversation later, John,” Rhodri declared. “Looking forward to it,” replied Jack, and he quickly left the study. He quietly shut the door to his and Honour's room. Honour was lying on the bed, staring at the wall. “Honour? Almost time to eat, darling. Zara and I came for you, just as I promised.” “I'm not asleep,” she said softly. Jack laid Zara on the bed, and went around to Honour's side and knelt beside her. “He's upset you that much?” Honour's eyes welled with tears. “Jack, he's such a horrid man! I could never be good enough in his eyes...” Jack smiled sympathetically and stroked her hair. “I believe you, darling. After the interrogation I just went through, I can believe him capable of a lot of things.” A tear escaped her eye and tumbled down her cheek. “I'm so sorry, Jack. I had no idea he'd show up. I hope he wasn't to harsh with you.” He gently wiped the tear away. “Hey, you know me! I can hold my own in any situation. Though he's plenty sharp. I've been in sword fights less dicey. I can see now where you get your sharp tongue.” She laughed a little. “It's a Conaway trait.” “Same with the Wolfes.” He looked over at Zara. “We're in for quite a time with her, aren't we?” “Any regrets, Captain Wolfe?” Jack smiled and shook his head. “Not ever, my love. Now, let's get ready for supper. This is going to be interesting...”

Jack knocked quietly at the door to Daffyd's study. Daffyd was sitting at his desk. He was slouched a bit in his chair as he looked over a handful of papers, deep in thought. The desk itself was littered with even more documents, along with a few map-reading instruments. A glass of brandy was at his elbow. Jack started to knock again, but felt himself involuntarily laugh. Daffyd looked up from his papers and smiled. “Was I doing something funny, Jack?” “No, no. Not at all. When I saw you there, and the state of your desk – not at all unlike mine – I think I got a pretty good impression of how my quartermaster feels on entering my cabin. Though Briggs is much noisier.” Daffyd chuckled as he sat up. “Megan is constantly at me to organise myself better. But I work more comfortably this way. Brandy?” “Always,” he said cheerily. He came into the room and took the seat across from his brother-in-law. Daffyd offered Jack the glass. “I suppose you get the same helpful hints from Rhiannon?” That made Jack blink as he reconciled his wife's 'real' name in his head. Though he had been immersed for weeks in a world where everyone knew her as Rhiannon, she would always be Honour to him. “Always!” he laughed. “Would she be a Conaway sister if she didn't?” Lifting his glass, Daffyd toasted, “To being property of the Sisters Conaway! A most delightful state to be in.” “Here, here! I have to admit a certain gratification that my approach to paperwork isn't much different from that of a lord.” “And why should it be different? You're lord of your ship and master of what goes on aboard her. Fundamentally, Jack, we're not that different, you and I. We're both men of responsibility and position. With all the joys and tribulations that go long with the rank.” Jack smiled ruefully. “Good point. But many people take a dim view of my position in this world.” “Don't forget, a certain amount of political power goes along with my birthright. People take an even dimmer view of that, especially these days.” “Daffyd, I want to thank you again for showing me such kindness and hospitality. And for taking care of Zara whilst Hon-- Rhiannon and I were... going through our difficulties.” “When are you going to stop thanking Megan and me for that? Jack, you're family. You're married to my sister-in-law, and that means something in this house. To be sure, it was a surprise to find you at her side when she returned to us. But I'm a pretty good judge of character. Megan even more so. From what we've seen, you're a fine man, a loving husband and father. Rhiannon is happy. That speaks the loudest truth.” Jack sipped his brandy and thought a moment. “You know, I think that's one of the finest compliments I've ever been given. Now if I can continue to live up to it.” “Oh, you will. A disappointed Conaway sister is nothing to trifle with.” “How well I know,” said Jack over another sip. “So, what is on your mind? You're too forthright a man to engage in chitchat for a spot of brandy.” “That's what I like about you, Daffyd. To the point,” laughed Jack. “Our conversation the other day about your horse breeding philosophy got me thinking.” “How so? Are you thinking of giving up the sea and becoming a horse breeder?” Jack smiled and shook his head. “No, not bloody likely! Far too much salt in these veins. But you said something that really hit home with me. 'Form to function'. That's a principle my father preached about the design of ships.” “I can see how the mindset would be similar. Ships are built for specific tasks, just as horses are bred for certain roles, right? Only in my case, every attempt at a new, improved model is a roll of the dice. There's more art than science behind the business of horseflesh.” “No more than in the world of shipbuilding, my friend. There are a great many exciting ideas that end up useless failures once they've been built and put to the test. But that's neither here nor there. You've been so kind as to show me your world of horses, I'd like to return the favour.” Daffyd took some brandy. “I'm not sure I follow.” “I have to go down to the port tomorrow and pay El Lobo's fees in advance so she can dock properly instead of having to ride at anchor out in the harbour like some common barge. I was wondering if you'd like to join me on a small foray into my world?” Daffyd's eyes lit up. “Of course I would! When do we leave?” “Right after breakfast. I figure with the ladies wrapped up in preparations for the ball, a gentlemen's day away is in order.” “Ah, but there's that one little lady I never thought you'd tear yourself away from.” Jack smiled proudly. “That's one of the reasons we'll be back tomorrow evening. The other will be tired of party plans.” “You've really taken to fatherhood quite handily, Jack. Better than most, I dare say.” “I never imagined I would. When Honour-- there I go again...” “No,” chuckled Daffyd. “I'm sure that when she came back into your life, it's been nonstop adjustments. “Truer words were never spoken. When she told me we have Zara, I have to admit, I was scared to death.” “And how do you feel now that you've actually held her?” “On top of the world,” said Jack. “And still scared to death.” “Get used to it. That is a feeling that will never quite go away. I dread the day suitors start coming round.” “I don't even want to think about that!” “You've got a few years before you have to add that worry! I hear she took her first step a day or so ago?” Jack beamed with pride. “She did! She was absolutely brilliant, Daffyd.” “Did she get that incredibly determined look on her face?” “That's the one! I'm so glad I could be here to see it.” Jack took another sip of brandy. “I've missed so much. Her birth, her first tooth...” “She's got a lifetime of firsts ahead of her. And you're here to witness them,” said Daffyd gently. “Help her through those, safe and happy as you can. That's all that really matters.” “You make it sound so easy.” Daffyd shook his head. “It is the hardest job imaginable. And the most rewarding. Have you and Rhiannon talked about having any more?” “We did last night, as a matter of fact. But really, we're just getting reacquainted. That's where our attention needs to be. There, and with little Zara.” Jack gave a quizzical look as Daffyd chuckled. “What?” asked Jack. “Did I say something funny?” “You really can't say Zara's name without smiling! Megan mentioned it to me yesterday, and she's right! It's the grandest thing.” “'Zara',” said Jack, and he paid attention to muscles in his face as he did so. The discovery made him laughed softly. “No, I guess I can't!” “Well, no matter. Rhiannon is young. You'll have plenty of time for more when the Lord decides to bless you again.” “I think that deserves a toast.” “Right you are!” said Daffyd as he filled their glasses. “To the Wolfes among us,” he intoned. “May the pack continue to grow and prosper!” The following morning, Jack was in his and Honour's room collecting the funds he would need to pay the port authority. As he counted out the fee, plus a bit more just in case, he heard the door quietly open behind him. Honour stepped into the room with a bright-eyed Zara on her hip. “There's my girls!” said Jack merrily. Honour smiled. “Are you sure you're taking enough?” she asked. “Don't worry, love. I'm taking along some extra. You know how port towns can be.” “There's always that one wheel that wants some grease, I know,” she sighed. “Daffyd is excited to be going along. How long do you think you'll be?” Jack stroked her hair and looked lovingly into her eyes. “We'll be home before supper. I can't bear the thought of being apart from either of you longer than that.” Honour returned her husband's gaze. “I thought last night would have tided you over.” “Not a chance,” he said, and kissed her lips tenderly, then with a little more insistence. “Da!” interjected Zara. She waved her free arm at her side as if to further ensure she had her amorous parent's attention. “You know,” said Jack, “I think she's beginning to get wise to us!” He tickled Zara's ribs, making her giggle and squeal. “I think she has, too! Somebody likes being the centre of attention, doesn't she?” Honour cooed. “All right, no brothers or sisters for you...” She gave Jack a wink. “Not yet, anyway.” “Now darling, you know what they say about practice making perfect.” “And you, Captain Wolfe, have ship's business to attend! Now GO! Shoo! Daffyd and the carriage are waiting. Practice will have to wait.” “I'm going to hold you to that, sweetheart.” “You'd better!” She gave Jack a quick kiss and took a step back. “Now be careful.” Jack broke into a broad smile. “I promise. See you this evening!” He paused before stepping into the hall. “I love you, Honour.” “I love you, too, Jack.” Jack waved his hand goodbye at Zara, and she did her best to mimic the gesture. As the door closed, Honour gently swayed too and fro, as if dancing with her small daughter. “This is all so wonderful, Zara,” she said to her giggling child. “It's better than I could have dreamed. I don't think I've ever been happier in my entire life!”

Harrison finished filling a feeding manger with hay and gave the young gelding a pat on the neck as the horse enjoyed its afternoon meal. The stable master had just latched the stall door when he spied Honour and Domino charging up the manor's lane toward the stable, the snow kicked into a white cloud around the mare's legs as they flew. The scene played out before him just as his mentor, Parry, had described as happening a hundred times or more when Honour was a young girl, and he wasn't surprised to see it happening again. Harrison could only wonder what manner of devilment she had gotten herself into this time. “Tommy, get that door open wide! She's coming in fast!” Harrison ordered the stable hand. The younger man dropped his water bucket and shoved the stable door open as wide as it would go. Honour had to pull back hard on the reins with all her might to get Domino slowed to a trot as they came into the stable. Harrison was there to help calm the horse, just as Parry had done after one of Honour's exploits. “Is everything all right, ma'am?” he asked, knowing full well from the look on her face it wasn't. “I don't know who's puffing harder, you or Domino! You were riding as if the devil himself was hot on your heels.” “Maybe he was,” answered Honour quietly. “Pardon, ma'am? I don't hear nearly as good as I used to.” Honour shook her head and feigned a smile. “Not this time, Harrison,” she said a little louder. “I'm sorry for riding her so hard. Please take care of her? I need to find my daughter.” With that, she dismounted and hurried off to the main house. “Aye, ma'am, it'll be done,” Harrison answered after her. He shook his head and stroked the mare's neck. Even now, Lord Conaway's rebellious daughter was full of mysteries. Honour hurried into the house, shedding her coat and gloves as she went. She guessed that Jack would be in the library, his second favourite place in the manor after their bedroom. All she wanted at that moment was to be in the comforting arms of her husband, for she knew his touch would banish the nightmare she'd just relived. Her guess was right. She paused at the doorway, and felt the ancient knot in her stomach begin to unravel as she took in the sight of her husband and child playing on the floor. Jack was sitting crossed-legged on the oriental rug. Zara was standing unsteadily in front of him, holding on to Jack's upraised fingers for support. Jack was beaming at his precious daughter, and Zara was watching her father's face intently as he spoke and cooed to her. Jack caught sight of Honour at the door, and he gently helped Zara sit down. He gave Zara her favourite toy, the stuffed bunny, and quickly crossed the room to embrace his wife. “There you are!” he said happily. “I was beginning to worry! What's wrong? You're shaking like a leaf!” Honour rested her head against Jack's shoulder and watched Zara. “I'm fine. Just a little shaken is all. Domino spooked at something on the road, and it's been a while since I've ridden...” Jack stroked her hair and looked at her with concern. “Are you you sure you're all right? She didn't throw you, did she?” Honour shook her head and gave a nervous smile. “I'm fine, Jack. Honestly fine. Just.. hold me.” He wrapped his arms around her, and after a few moments he could feel Honour relax. As he held her, Jack drank in the subtle scent of jasmine she always wore. “I'm going to do you one better,” he said with a gleam in his eye. He broke gently away from Honour and scooped Zara and her bunny up in his arms. “There's my girl! Mummy had a little scare. Let's both make her feel better, shall we?” Jack carried Zara in one arm, and he slipped the other around Honour's waist and drew her close. Zara chewed on the bunny's ear, then held the toy out to her mother with a giggle. Honour laughed and kissed the rabbit on the nose, eliciting a happy squeal from their daughter. Honour sighed and gazed upon her little family. Already, the frightening events of the afternoon were fading like ghosts. This was her life now, not the miserable existence she had known with Madoc or the unrealised dreams with Rhys. This was real. This was what she had been running toward all her life. A loving husband and a beautiful child. The past happened to someone else, someone named Rhiannon who had run away a long time ago. Honour Wolfe had the whole world before her. “Feeling better?” Jack asked. Honour nodded and kissed Jack tenderly. “I'm perfect now,” she said with a contented smile.

Well, then. Seems like I'm late to the party once again. Which is fine, since I've long since gone from sea pirate to Time Lord. Yeah, lots more room and lots more places to go. Though I keep ending up in Earth's past. A bit odd chatting with Catherine Howard, then her 32 year old step-daughter a couple weeks later. I warned Catherine about Sir Thomas Seymour and his "tickling parties", but does anybody ever listen? Oh well, Liz I seems OK with it, so who am I to judge? Liz 10, now she's a naughty girl... Anyway, the only pirating I've been doing over the past few years involves a Gallifreyan Type 40 Time Capsule, commonly referred to as Time And Relative Dimension In Space: the TARDIS. Some of you knew me, long ago, as Mad Jack Wolfe. Now I am more commonly known as The Doctor.

I watched the first three episodes. Remarkable that I made it that far, I must have been feeling particularly masochistic. The plot was predictable and pedestrian; the writers had obviously never studied one iota of fighting sail tactics, much less simple physics; Malkovich could never decide on an accent even from scene to scene; and the costumes varied from passable at a Renaissance faire to "Here, put on these pyjamas and wrap a sash round your waist. They'll never know the difference. And yell 'YARR' a lot!". Purely crap television and even worse pirate fiction. Avoid it at all cost. Watch "On Stranger Tides" in reverse. It would make more sense.

Hudgins knocked three times on the study door and entered to find Rose contemplating a book and her usual cognac. He waited dutifully for her to acknowledge his presence before clearing his throat. Finally she looked up. “Yes, Hudgins? What is it?” “A letter arrived for you, Countess.” Rose's eyes lit up. Letters usually meant a solicitation for patronage or an invitation to a ball. She hoped it was the latter. She put down her book and took the envelope from him. “Thank you, Hudgins. That will be all.” Hudgins bowed slightly at the waist and left the study. Rose examined the envelope. It was simply addressed. The Countess Carlisle Tyneforthe Hall Shrewsbury, Shropshire, England The only clue as to who it might be from was the wax seal on the back with its single letter “L”. She went to a small writing bureau and fetched a letter opener with which she broke the seal. Hurriedly, Rose opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. Just as she had hoped, it was an invitation to Bancroft Hall in Wales. Lord and Lady Llewellyn's annual Winter ball, the premier gala of the season. Megan and Daffyd always threw the most delightful soirées. Anyone who was anyone would be there. Rose had missed the previous year's ball due to a lingering illness, but she would not miss this year's event. Besides, there was always the chance of some new revelation about that nasty little scandal involving Megan's younger sister a few years ago. While Rose had never cared much for the impetuous young woman, there was a begrudging respect for her spirit. Her eyes lit up as she read the invitation. Beaumaris! She had almost forgotten that's where the Llewellyn's lived. That's where Drake had told her his ship was docked. Where Jack's ship was docked. Perhaps she could kill two birds with one stone; attend the ball, and see an old flame? Rose gave an urgent tug on the bell ribbon, and within a minute Hudgins was at the door of the study. “Yes, madame? What may I get for you?” “Hudgins, have you seen my brother about?” “Yes, madame. I left him in the west library. Shall I fetch him?” “No, that's quite all right,” she said as she brushed past him. “I'll see him myself.” “Is there a problem, madame?” Hudgins called after her. “Not at all!” replied Rose, never breaking stride. “In fact, things couldn't be better!” She quietly pushed open the door to the library. There was her brother, seated before the fireplace with a large stack of books and a tray of tea. Rose cleared her throat to catch his attention. “Pardon me, Drake. Am I interrupting?” she asked sweetly. Duckie looked up from his book and smiled. “Rose! I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in! I was lost in thought. You never told me Edwin had an interest in botany! He has a fantastic collection of books on the subject, and his notes are exhaustive...” “Yes, yes,” she interrupted. “Take any of them you want for your library. They're just gathering dust here.” “Rose, I couldn't---” “Drake, you'll be doing me a favour. But enough about the silly books. I have an important question to ask you.” Duckie put down the book he had been reading and gave her his full attention. “All right then. What has you so excited?” Rose quickly sat down in the chair next to his. “When do you need to be back in to your ship?” He gave her a puzzled look. “Just over two weeks from now. Why? Are you in a hurry to get rid of me?” “Not at all! You're a positively delightful guest, in spite of being my brother.” She held up the invitation. “I've just received an invitation to a ball in two weeks that I simply cannot and will not miss. Care to guess where it takes place?” Duckie could feel a knot begin to form in his stomach. “Beaumaris?” “Yes!” she chirped excitedly. “Isn't that a wonderful coincidence?” “That's one way of looking at it.” “You simply must be my escort, Drake! I won't have it any other way.” “Of course you wouldn't.” “I'm sorry?” “I mean, of course I'll be your escort,” he recovered. “But I'm afraid I didn't bring proper clothing for a social engagement...” “Never you worry! I know a marvellous tailor in London. I'll send for him straight away. I insist!” “That's very generous of you Rose, but you needn't go to such lengths for me.” “Nonsense, Drake! You'll be accompanying a countess. I wouldn't do for you to be dressed in anything but the finest.” “No, I suppose it wouldn't,” he said with a hint of resignation. Duckie couldn't help but wonder when the other shoe was going to drop.

“Do you know what today is, Rose?” asked Jack. “Oh Jack, you know I don't enjoy riddles,” said Rose with a coy smile. Jack tenderly took her hand and looked into her eyes. “It's a year to the day that we first met.” “Has it been that long? I hadn't realised.” “Now you're just toying with me,” he replied in mock exasperation. Indeed, it had been a full year since Jack's best friend Drake “Duckie” Gander introduced Jack to his sister, Rose. She was a strikingly beautiful young woman four years Jack's senior, with a porcelain complexion and long, sable hair that never seemed to be out of place. She had a stately, regal air about her that only accentuated her beauty. Ordinarily she would have never considered taking anyone Jack's age or social standing as a suitor. Not that she considered him serious marriage material. But he was so smitten with her from the start, and she did enjoy his attentions. Jack was indulgent of her every whim, as much within his meagre means as possible, even taking odd jobs in the midsts of his studies to do so. He was always the perfect gentleman, knowing just what to say and how to act despite his humble station. “Is something bothering you, Jack? You seem anxious,” she asked. Jack licked his dry lips and took a deep breath. “Over the past year, I've become very fond of you, Rose. Very fond indeed.” Rose patted his hand and smiled. “As I have of you, Jack.” “So fond,” he continued with a slight quaver in his voice, “that I find myself dreading being apart from you, even for an hour.” Rose searched his eyes. “Jack, what are you trying to say?” Jack fumbled with his vest pocket and produced a small black box. It promptly slipped from his fingers and tumbled to the floor at her feet. Awkwardly, he scooped up the box and knelt before Rose on one knee. “I love you, Rose. I've loved you from the moment I first saw you.” His voice grew stronger as his words of adoration tumbled out of his mouth. “I can't imagine a life without you, my love.” With trembling hands, he offered up the box to her. His voice full of expectation and hope, he asked, “Rose Gander, would you be my wife?” Astonished, Rose took the box and opened it. Inside was a gold ring with a tiny diamond set into it. Jack had scrimped and saved for months to buy it for her. She stared at the ring, then looked at Jack in open-mouthed surprise... and laughed. “Oh, Jack, you are so precious!” She looked again at the ring, and covered her mouth to stifle her giggles. “Does... does that mean you will?” he asked nervously. Rose's expression changed from one of mirthful surprise to incredulity. “You mean-- you're serious, aren't you?” “Yes, Rose,” Jack said quietly. “I want to spend my life with you.” “Jack, this is so very sweet of you. I had no idea you felt this way about me. But, honestly,” she said, hushing her voice slightly, “you're the son of a shipwright! Not to mention that, at best, you'll become an non-tenured professor. I couldn't possibly marry you! You could never provide for me in the manner I deserve.” Jack's face fell, and he looked around the room as if something that might help him make sense of what just happened might be lurking in a corner. “I see,” he said quietly. He gently retrieved the ring and slipped it back into his vest pocket. Without another word, he got to his feet and gave Rose a polite kiss on the cheek. He hesitated for a moment as he looked at her, then he turned and went to the drawing room door. As he put his hand on the knob, Rose said, “You'll come round this Sunday after services, won't you? I'm in the mood for a picnic! Doesn't that sound lovely?” Jack simply sighed and left the room. Rose laughed softly to herself, feeling flattered by Jack's proposal. She went to the bookcase and poured herself a small glass of cognac, and enjoyed the feeling as the alcohol warmed her from within. “Rose!!” She turned and found her brother Drake in the doorway, red faced and fuming. “Drake! What is the matter? You look positively beside yourself.” Duckie pushed the door closed and stalked into the room. “What in God's name is the matter with you, Rose?! Jack just came into the study, completely devastated! He muttered something asking you to marry him, and you laughed in his face?” Rose rolled her eyes and sat down with a flounce. “I had no idea he was serious! I mean, even you can see how absurd the whole thing was! Really, he has no prospects, no breeding, no family money... There's no way I could possibly marry him.” Duckie stared at his sister in disbelief. “That was cruel, Rose. Even for you. Jack loved you! That's more important than anyone's breeding or money will ever be. The man adored you, and you humiliated him!” Rose's face clouded. “I suppose I might have hurt his feelings a bit. Honestly, Drake, I thought he was having me on.” “No, he wasn't. He's been working up the nerve to ask for your hand over a month now. For a solid year, he's worshipped the ground you walk on. That's a wasted year he'll never get back. A heartbreak he never should have endured.” Rose exhaled in exasperation. “You make me sound like such a monster! Jack is resilient. In a few days, he'll have forgotten all about this nonsense. You'll see.” Duckie set his jaw as he watched his sister arrange her skirts as if she were about to sit for a portrait. “Rose, you've crossed a line this time. Jack Wolfe is my best friend. Now I have the regret of ever introducing you to him.” He shook his head. “I shan't forgive you for this. Not for a long time. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a heartbroken friend to console.” He turned from his sister and quickly left the room, leaving her alone with her vanity and her cognac. ~~~~~~ The older, infinitely shrewder Rose stared into the fire, smiling smugly to herself. “Yes, but he's rich now. A pity about his being married. I should like to see him again, for old time's sake.” She started to take another sip of cognac, and gave the glass a puzzled look. “Hmm. Empty. Oh, well.” She shrugged and gave a resigned smile, and went to the bookcase to fill her glass yet again.

"But he was an influential member of the House of Lords," she said proudly. "Very powerful and respected. Everyone sought his approval and influence." And there it is, thought Duckie. Rose couldn't tell him much about who her husband was, but she had a firm grasp on what being married to him meant. "Would you look at that?" she said with a smile as she examined her empty glass. "More cognac, Drake?" His glass was still over half full. "No, thank you. I'm fine." "Suit yourself." She went to the bookcase and poured another glass, a little fuller than the last one. "For a man of the sea, you drink like you're taking communion." "I'm a physician first. I spend far too much time treating those who overindulge to do it myself." "Always the pragmatist," Rose said with a laugh. "But let's talk of happier things. You must have seen extraordinary things in the New World!" Duckie smiled. "It really is a whole new world, Rose. The islands are as diverse as the people who inhabit them. The cultures, the music, the food... extraordinary barely scratches the surface." "Still, it has to be a relief to return to the civilized world. From everything I've read in the broadsheets, it's a savage, uncouth place." "Compared to Hampton Court, perhaps. But I've heard that too can be a most inhospitable and uncouth place. Don't believe everything you read, Rose. Just because it's different or outside your experience doesn't make it bad." Rose regarded her brother. "You've changed, Drake. Worldlier, but somehow world-weary. You sound more philosopher than physician.” Duckie smiled into his drink. “In my line of work, you get a lot of time to think. Perhaps too much.” Rose nestled back into her leather chair. “Now,” she said with a calculated smile, “tell me more about Jack.” Duckie sighed hard. “We're back to this, are we?” “Oh, Drake,” she implored, “it's a simple question. I want to hear about your heroic captain.” Involuntarily, Duckie laughed. “Heroic? Well, I suppose that fits Jack to a point, given what we've been through. He's certainly not the philosopher you knew.” He paused and looked at his glass. “What are you up to, Rose? Why the sudden intense curiosity about your old flame?” “Can't I ask a few innocent questions? He is an old friend, after all. You have such a suspicious mind!” “I know you when you set your mind to something. You're like a dog with a bone. And I hardly think Jack regards you as a friend, after the way you jilted him.” Rose rolled her eyes. “We were children! After all these years, I doubt he even remembers it.” “Oh, he remembers, Rose. It took him a long time to get over you.” “You sound like you haven't entirely forgiven me, either, Drake.” “Jack was my best friend at the time. You were callous and cruel to him.” “I was being realistic! Jack was still at university, with his heart set on becoming a professor. There was no way he would have been able provide for me in a proper fashion. He was sweet, but a poor prospect.” Duckie motioned at the room around them. “I suppose this is what you call being properly provided for?” “It's comfortable enough.” “Comfortable? It's more like a museum! Are you honestly happy rattling around in this gargantuan manor?” Rose pursed her lips. “What does that have to do with anything?” Duckie shook his head slowly. “Rose, happiness is everything. You can have the whole world, but it doesn't mean much if you aren't happy.” “Spare me the lecture, Drake,” she said testily. “I'm merely concerned about you. It has to be terribly lonely...” “Drake Gander, I'll have you know that I am very satisfied with my life, and I'm perfectly happy with how things are! I have close acquaintances and a busy social schedule. I hardly consider myself lonely.” She set her glass down on the table and crossed her arms in front of her. “Perhaps you're right. I seem to have lost all interest in talking any more tonight.” “Rose, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to insult you. I only meant... Rose?” Rose sat there in silence, staring the fire and doing a slow burn. Duckie sighed. He knew that when Rose clammed up like this, there was no talking to her until she got over her snit. He stood up and paused to kiss her on top of the head as he passed her chair. “I do love you, sister. Even when you're being impossible.” He left the sitting room, and found himself face to face with Hudgins. “Hudgins!” Duckie exclaimed. “How fortunate you should be here. May I ask you a few questions as we walk?” “Yes, governor. What would you like to know?” “Does the countess host many events?” “Aye, sir. Though not nearly as many since Lord Edwin died.” “So she does have guests from time to time?” asked Dukie. Hudgins shrugged. “Every now and again. But mostly she's travelling here, there, and yonder attending balls and shopping. She does an awful lot of shopping. She's rarely ever here any more. Like she can't stand to be here by herself. She and the Earl were never what you'd call close, see, but I think she misses having him around. Ah, here we are at your room, governor. Can I bring you anything?” “No, Hudgins, you've been too kind. I'll see you tomorrow.” “Good enough, sir. Have a pleasant night!” Hudgins quietly closed the door. Duckie looked around the room and sighed again. “I wish I knew what you were up to, Rose. Why the interest in Jack?” Rose poured herself yet another glass of cognac. She leaned back in her overstuffed leather chair and regarded the fire, and thought back across the years to when Jack Wolfe tried to win her heart...

It had been two weeks since Duckie arrived at Tyneforthe Hall. He had the run of the estate for almost all of the first week, as Rose was in London on another of her famous spending sprees. In a way, he wished she hadn't returned. Rose had always been materialistic, almost to the exclusion of all else. Her choice of suitors was never gauged by emotional compatibility, but by their societal ranking. Obviously she had hit the jackpot in Lord Edwin Carlisle. But what had she gained, really? An impossibly huge estate, no children, and a dead husband. He doubted that even all her money and status could keep Rose warm on lonely nights. Not that it seemed to matter to her. They had retired to Rose's sanctuary after a rich meal of game hens, assorted greens, and fresh bread. Rose was in an unusually cheery mood as she poured them each a glass of aged cognac. She brought Duckie his glass, then sank into her leather chair to enjoy the fire. "It seems like forever since I've entertained a guest," she sighed. "Really?" asked Duckie. "I should think you have all manner of gatherings and balls here." "I do, I do. But they don't mean anything, really. Most of those who come are merely hangers-on and poseurs, hoping to mingle with the rest of us. I mean those of us with social stature. Breeding. You understand." "Yes, breeding," echoed Duckie dubiously. "I've heard of it. They do that with horses and cattle, don't they?" "Oh, Drake, don't be droll." She took a sip of cognac and set her glass on the table. Duckie's eyebrow went up when he noticed her sip had drained nearly half the glass. "We have a fine family history, certainly nothing to be ashamed of. Some of these people, I mean, they're immigrants. Can you imagine?" "Scandalous," he replied with a roll of his eyes. "What I'm trying to say is that it is a delight to have you here, after all these years. How long has it been? Four?" "Seven, actually. Before you married Lord Edwin. As a matter of fact, you've told me almost nothing of your dear departed. What was he like?" Rose shifted in her chair. "He was a good man," she said quietly as she retrieved her glass. "Very generous, from a good family." "I presumed he had good breeding, being a lord and all," said Duckie. "But what was he like?" "As I said, he was a generous man. Quite indulgent, even." "Yes, yes, but what was he like, as a person? Was he a sportsman? Musically inclined? Bookish?" Rose cleared her throat and drank some more cognac. "Edwin and I had different interests." "Such as? Come now, Rose, you were married to the man five years. Surely there's more you can tell me about him." She thought some more, seeming to struggle to recall any detail of her husband's life. "Horses! Yes, Edwin loved his horses." "Now there's something! Did he ride or hunt?" "Hunt... I think. I know he had a saddle." Duckie eyed his sister. "You never rode out with him?" "Oh, no. Never. Riding is more of a man's sport, you know." "Funny, that's not how you felt when we were younger. Remember when we'd go to Uncle Henry's farm? Father would yell himself hoarse trying to get you to quit riding and come in for the evening." A smile briefly played across Rose's face, but vanished just as quickly. "That was a long time ago. Things change." "I suppose they do," said Duckie, the disappointment all too clear in his voice. In the pursuit of her ambitions, Rose had compromised everything positive about herself. In the end, what had she really gained?

“Dear Lord, man! How much farther?” huffed Duckie. “Nearly there, sir,” replied the manservant, maintaining what Duckie considered far too brisk a pace. They reached the end of the long hallway at last. The man opened the tall double doors with measured precision. He took three steps into the room and gave a stiff half bow. “Mister Drake Gander, Countess,” he announced. Duckie, already resentful for being taken on what he felt was a forced march, sidestepped the manservant and entered the west sitting room. But a sitting room at Tyneforthe Hall would have been a library anywhere else. It was much like the rest of the manor; grandiose almost to the point of absurdity. Every yard of fabric, every stick of furniture spoke of wretched excess. His sister Rose had married into old money, and she was determined to rub everyone's face in it. The high walls were done in rich, polished rosewood. Two enormous bookcases flanked a large fireplace, which crackled and popped with a perfectly stoked fire. Above the marble fireplace hung a larger-than-life portrait of his sister, replete with an ornate gilt frame. He wondered for a moment about the two magnificent greyhounds in the painting. Rose hated animals, dogs particularly. No doubt the artist added them later in an attempt to bring some measure of warmth to the subject. “There you are, Drake! I've been waiting forever for you to get here! Please, come and sit. We have so much to talk about!” said Rose. She was standing near the centre of the room beside two high-backed leather chairs and a marble inlaid rosewood tea table. Rose Carlisle, the Countess of Shrewsbury, was a tall, slender woman. She was wearing a gown of the finest silk brocade. True to the vain habit she developed a child, the dress was varying shades of pale rose. Her long brown hair was piled and coiffed perfectly upon her head almost like a crown. She gave her brother her best mistress of the manor smile, a smile so practised and automatic that it never touched her icy blue eyes. “Do forgive me, my dear,” said Duckie as he walked to his sister and embraced her. “I'm afraid I got turned around in your spacious home. I was over in the east sitting room when your man came to fetch me. You'd think that in a week's time I would have discovered everything.” “An honest mistake, I'm sure. This is a rather large house,” said Rose. “Hudgins? This tea is unsuitably cold by now. Bring us a fresh pot. Fresh scones as well. I'll not serve these stale things to an honoured guest.” “As you wish, Countess,” answered Hudgins with another half bow. Duckie tried not to show incredulity at Rose's orders. He had checked the clock on the mantle when he came in the room. It was only ten past four. “There's no need, Rose. I'm sure it's fine. I don't stand on formalities.” “But I do,” she shot back icily. The too easy smile reappeared instantly. “I suppose life aboard a ship is a more rugged existence than what the average person would be used to. But there are standards in this house.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Yes, I'm sure there are.” “Please, sit! We have so much to catch up on!” They sat, and Rose took up her position as ruler of the manor. “What has it been, Drake? Five years since I saw you last?” “Seven, to be exact,” said Duckie, eyeing his empty tea cup. “You weren't married then.” “Ah, that's right! You were back from a cruise aboard that merchant ship, whatever its name was.” “El Lobo Del Mar.” “Yes, that's the one! Such a fearsome name for a gentle vessel! Does the captain treat you well?” Duckie laughed softly. “We get along just fine. As a matter of fact, you know him. Well.” “Really?” asked Rose, incredulously. “I'm sure you're mistaken, Drake. Sea captains don't travel in the same circles I do.” “Oh, this one did, back in the day,” he smirked. She gave him a pained look. “All right, then. Enough of the riddles. Who is this captain you presume I know?” Duckie smiled broadly. “Jack Wolfe.” Rose's eyes went wide. “My Jack Wolfe?” “Well, suffice to say it's the Jack Wolfe you knew. Though he's quite a different man now.” Rose shifted in her seat. “Different, how? Bolder? Wealthier?” “Yes, on both counts. And a few others.” “More riddles? And why didn't you tell me before that Jack was a captain?” Duckie rose from his chair and went to the bookcase, where on one shelf was a bottle of brandy and some glasses. He poured a tall glass and sighed. “I did, Rose. The last time we talked, and in several of my letters. But it wasn't important to you. You were too wrapped up with being courted by Lord Edwin Carlisle. My condolences on his passing, by the way. I'm sure it was devastating for you.” “Yes, well, it was most unexpected. But he was an older man. He left me well provided for, and that's what's most important.” Duckie swirled the brandy around his glass and took a deep drink. “Yes, I'm sure it is for you.” Rose ignored his comment and tilted her head quizzically. “You said Jack is different in other ways. How so?” “He's happily married, for one,” said Duckie as he returned to his seat. “And he has a beautiful baby daughter, only a few months old.” Rose's face fell. “Married? Does he love her?” “Love her? He nearly tore the entire Caribbean apart trying to find her at one point. Yes, he loves her. Desperately. And she him.” Duckie was enjoying twisting the knife on his painfully self-impressed sister. “My, my. A wealthy captain. Jack certainly has done well for himself,” mused Rose. “A wealthy, happily married captain, Rose.” “Yes, yes. As you said...” Duckie could see the wheels turning in her head, and it was beginning to sadden him. His sister had always been a scheming social climber. But now that she had achieved the status she had so desperately wanted all these years, she seemed to only crave it more. It gave him some comfort that Jack and Honour were in Beaumaris, with no chance of crossing paths with Rose. Duckie loved his sister very much, but he pitied her for what she had become. A status seeker, titled and wealthy. And so terribly lonely.

Honour had just put Zara back in the crib, and was pulling the little pink blanket back up over the baby. She smiled when she saw Jack standing in the doorway holding the toy rabbit proudly. “Oh, good! You found it! Here, give it to me and I'll tuck it in beside her.” “Not so fast!” said Jack. You said this would help her make a link between something pleasant and me, yeah?” Honour's brow furrowed. “Well, yes, but if it smells like you, that ought to be enough.” “Despite all the tavern tales to the contrary, how many risks have you known me to take?” “None that weren't thoroughly calculated.” “Well, this is another one.” “Please, Jack, she'll just start crying again.” “Trust me Honour. Please? If she starts crying, I'll take you to town and buy you a new red dress.” “I thought you liked the red dress I already have.” “Consider it a spare. You don't know how many times I've wanted to tear that dress off you.” Honour blushed a little, and stepped away from the crib. “When you put it that way, how could I refuse?” Jack stepped toward the crib. Honour touched his shoulder gently. “And what if you're right? What do you get?” she asked. “That's up to you, my love. And you'll still get that red dress.” Honour bit her lip and smiled. “Do go slow, please?” “I promise,” said Jack. He turned toward the crib, and looked down on the very sleepy Zara Wolfe. He leaned down, but paused when her expression turned worried. “No, no, precious. It's all right,” he said in his deepest, most soothing tones. “I know we haven't been properly introduced, and I made a mess of things before.” Zara's expression slowly changed from distressed to one of curiosity. “I'm your daddy,” continued Jack. “And I love you very, very much.” Honour stood at the doorway and watched her husband work his magic on their daughter. Tears of happiness welled in her eyes as she witnessed Jack Wolfe transform from feared pirate to doting father. She felt guilty for keeping Zara from him, but she took consolation in how wonderfully everything was working out. “I've got something for you,” Jack said to Zara. He produced the toy rabbit from behind his back. Zara's eyes grew wide at the bright colours. “Ah, see? That's my little girl! You recognise swag when you see it!” He gently gave the toy bunny to Zara, who took it without taking her eyes from Jack's face. “Are you going to help your Da prove your Mum wrong? Come on, give us a smile.” Zara took the rabbit and looked at it, then gave it a shake. The little bells sewn into the tips of its ears jingled, and her eyes lit up. She gave a noise that sounded like a laugh and looked at Jack, and then back to the bunny. Jack looked at Honour and smiled. She returned the smile, and nodded toward their room. Jack rose and gave Zara one more glance, then extinguished the lamp and joined Honour in the hall. “You charmed her after all, didn't you?” she laughed softly. Jack beamed. “Yeah, I guess I did! But I think the rabbit was what really won her over.” “Well, you proved me wrong. I thought she would cry, and instead we have this...” The faint tinkle of little bells could be heard as Zara played with her new toy. “You know what this means, don't you?” asked Jack. “I wouldn't know,” said Honour, with a hint of a wicked smile. “Don't try and weasel out of this one, darling. I won the bet.” He gently brushed her hair away from her face. “So, what's my prize?” Honour smiled. “I still get my red dress?” “Of course you do! A promise is a promise.” She took his hand and led him to their room. “I'd much rather show you than tell you.” “Now you're talking,” said Jack as he closed the bedroom door with his heel.

Jack looked at Honour in a mixture of astonishment and dismay. “Don't... don't you think she can wait a few minutes more?” “WAAAAAAHHHH!!!” “You tell me,” said Honour. “Can you concentrate through that din?” “WAAAAAAHHHH!!!” He screwed his eyes shut, but it was obvious he couldn't ignore the wailing of his little girl. He rolled over and pulled on his shirt, then his trousers. Honour hadn't bothered to pull up the sheet. Jack paused to look at her exquisite form. “Bollocks!” he muttered, and he went quickly to the nursery. With Zara in full voice, Jack hastily lit a lamp. He turned to the cradle where his daughter lay, and froze. “What do I do? Pick her up?” he asked himself. “Leave her alone? Rock her? Sing to her? Why can I only think of 'The Good Ship Venus'? No good! Bollocks! All right, here we go...” Jack carefully slid his hands around Zara and picked her up. “Your mum promised me you wouldn't break, and I'm going to hold you to that bargain,” he said softly. He held his daughter at arm's length, trying to decide what to do next. For some reason, Zara fell silent. “This isn't so bad,” Jack smiled. “Piece of cake, ain't it, Zara?” Little Zara's eyes opened slowly, and met her father's. Suddenly, they grew wide. Jack's did too. Her lower lip trembled, and she drew in several halting breaths. “Oh, no, no, no, non, nein, nyet...” stammered Jack. But nothing would hold back Zara's bloodcurdling scream. Wincing against the sound, Jack held her close to him, in hopes that holding her would bring her comfort enough to quit crying. No such luck. Instead, Zara grabbed two handfuls of her father's hair and pulled for everything she was worth. “Ow! OWW!!” exclaimed Jack. “Let go! Damn it! Ouch!!” At that moment, Honour opened the nursery door. Before her was her husband, the most feared pirate in the Caribbean, holding his infant daughter while she cried and yanked his long brown hair with surprising strength. “Get her off me!” cried Jack. Honour looked at him, and doubled over in laughter. “What the hell are you laughing at? A little help, please?” he pleaded. Completely unable to contain herself, Honour leaned against the door and continued laughing. “Oh, dear Lord, if only Briggs could see you now! Here! Let me show you what to do, you big fearsome man!” She gently took hold of Zara, and the child slowly released her grip on Jack's hair. Within moments, Zara was quietly resting against her mother. “You set me up,” said Jack. Honour smiled. “Maybe just a little.” She bounced Zara gently and patted her back, while Zara kept a wary eye on her father. “Why on earth did she react like that?” asked Jack. Honour couldn't help but hear the note of hurt in his voice. “Because she's frightened, Jack,” she explained as gently as she could. “You're a strange face to her.” “But... I'm her father. That should count for something.” “It does. It counts for everything. But right now, she doesn't know who you are. That will change.” Jack sighed. “I hadn't stopped to think about it like that. The whole world must be one big scary place for her, then.” He smiled sweetly at Zara and began to bring his face close to her. Immediately, her lower lip began to tremble, her tiny hands clutching Honour's nightgown. He backed off and gave a defeated look. “It will take a few days, darling,” Honour said as she rocked their daughter. “Do you really think she'll warm up to me? I mean, it took you no time at all...” Honour held Zara up in front of her and grinned. “That's because you are so much smarter than Mummy was! Aren't you? Yes you are!” Zara giggled and playfully grabbed her nose. “Oh, and aren't you the cheeky one!” said Jack in mock exasperation. “She seems happy enough now. Can I try again to hold her?” Honour pursed her lips. “You're rushing things, Jack. Go slow, please?” “You're right, as usual. I've just been so excited to finally see her, and... I suppose I was expecting things to go differently.” “What were you expecting? For her to greet you in the drawing room with tea and biscuits?” “Don't be silly, Honour. Even I know babies don't drink tea!” He shook his head slowly. “I really didn't know what to expect. Except for the eyes. I knew she'd have your beautiful eyes. And her hair. It really is just like mine...” He reached to touch Zara's curls, but she let out a small fearful cry and buried her face in Honour's shoulder. Honour stroked Zara's back to calm her. “It's all right, Zara. Bad man go away...” she cooed, and gave Jack a wink. “You know, I could have stayed on the ship with Briggs and not gotten this much abuse,” groused Jack teasingly. “I told you to take it slow, darling. She's your daughter, not something to master.” She kissed Zara's head and smiled at her husband. “We may have been a magnificent whirlwind, but she needs and deserves time.” “You have a maddening talent for being right,” smiled Jack. At that moment, Zara pushed back from Honour and gave a tremendous yawn, then softly collapsed back against her mother's shoulder. She kept her eyes on Jack, but they were somehow softer now, and heavy with sleepiness. Jack took some heart in this, but stayed put. Honour was right. There was no need for a desperate rush to connect with his daughter. He had retired from the Account, rich beyond his wildest dreams. Even more so now that his wife and daughter we back in his life. He had all the time in the world to get to know his little precious baby girl. “I think she's ready to go back down and sleep,” Honour said quietly. “Where is the toy you bought for her?” “Toy? Oh, the rabbit! I'd almost forgotten!” “More like completely forgotten,” she laughed. “No wonder, in all the excitement! Why don't you go fetch it?” Without a word, Jack hustled out of the nursery and into their room. Six nearly identical trunks were lined up against the wall with the windows. Which one of all those was his? He started examining them, and remembered his had the heaviest lock. He hauled the trunk onto the bed and retrieved the key from the dresser. Once the trunk was opened, he rummaged about and found the little toy rabbit he has bought in the Azores, right next to the clothes that were still in need of laundering. Honour had suggested he keep the toy there so it would smell like him, and help Zara make an association to him. Jack laughed to himself that if that actually worked, Zara would have a VERY strong association to him in a short time. With toy rabbit in hand, he hurried back to the nursery.

Stepping close to Zara's cradle, Jack stared in wonder at his beautiful little daughter. Her delicate features were framed by soft ringlets of her dark brown hair, a perfect match in shade and curl to his. She had his chin too, which gave her a determined expression even in slumber. Her complexion was darker than Honour's and a little lighter than his before he began his life under the scorching Caribbean sun, but the rest of her features were unmistakably Honour's. Zara had the same rosy cheeks, the same nose, and Jack was certain she had the same large, expressive eyes. Even the way she held her hands reminded him of his beloved wife. He was utterly entranced by this tiny little life, his own flesh and blood. As he watched her softly breathing, he found himself overwhelmed by a flood of emotions. Awe, pride, love, and something else he hadn't felt in a long, long time. Joy. Pure, unadulterated joy, as perfect as the peace and contentment reflected in the angelic face of his baby girl. Jack scarcely noticed Honour's hand as she placed it gently on his shoulder. She rested her head against him and drank in the sight of her daughter. Their daughter. Zara had grown so much in the eight weeks she had been away. She made a silent vow that she would never be apart from beautiful child ever again. They were a family once again, mother, father, and child. “She's beautiful, isn't she?” whispered Honour. Jack nodded. “Beyond description. Just like her mother.” He looked at her and smiled, and Honour could see the love and joy in her husband's eyes. She could feel her heart swell with love for this paradox of a man she she was married to. Pirate, scholar, lover, husband, and now father. His capacity for tenderness never ceased to amaze her, but it served to prove what she already knew. Jack would be a splendid father. Honour watched his face, and an amused smile played across her face. “Jack?” “Yes, darling?” he asked, his eyes never leaving their sleeping babe. “It's all right to breathe. You won't wake her.” Jack grinned sheepishly, then slipped his arm around her slender waist and drew her close. “I-- I don't know what to say, Honour.” “Why don't you start by telling me what you're feeling?” He watched Zara a little longer in silence, then looked at Honour with glistening eyes. “Everything,” he whispered. She looked into his eyes and smiled. “That's a lot of things to be feeling,” she teased tenderly. He returned the smile, and sighed. “She's even more beautiful than you described. She's perfect!” Jack slowly reached for Zara's hand, but stopped and looked back to Honour with a questioning look. Before he could speak the question, Honour smiled and nodded. He extended his finger, and gently touched his daughter's little fingers. “I can't believe how tiny she is,” he said softly. “Believe me,” said Honour, “she didn't feel tiny when I was giving birth!” Zara moved slightly, and made a small noise. Jack instinctively pulled his hand back. “It's all right, Jack. She's still asleep. You didn't wake her. It's no different than when you move in your sleep.” “Yeah, but very different from when you move. My pillow ends up on your side of the bed when you do that...” Suddenly, Jack gasped. Honour looked to find Zara's little hand grasping her father's finger. “What do I do?” asked Jack nervously. Honour put her hand over his other hand and squeezed. “Just enjoy it.” “That I can do,” he grinned. “She's really got quite the grip!” he laughed. “And you'd best remember it,” advised Honour. “She will latch on to anything in reach.” She tugged at his long locks, and tapped the shiny gold earring in his left ear. “Oh, right,” said Jack thoughtfully. “I suppose I have an awful lot to learn.” His face clouded with doubt. “Honour, what if... what if I make a mistake?” By this time, Zara's grip on his finger had loosened, and she brought her little fist back near her face. “Let's talk outside,” Honour said quietly, and urged Jack to come with her. They left the nursery, and she closed the door behind them quietly. Before he could say a word, she rushed to her husband and hugged him. “Oh, Jack! Everything is going to be fine, just fine! Yes, we will make mistakes. But we'll make them together. And we'll fix them together.” Jack smiled at her. “I suppose she didn't come along with an instruction book, by any chance?” “No,” Honour laughed. “I checked with the midwife. No instructions, not even proper paperwork. The Lord Protector would be so disappointed.” “Let's not bring His Puffiness, Lord Cromwell into this. This is a happy occasion!” “You're right.” She cocked her head to one side. “You know, you've told me so very little about your father. What was he like?” Jack's breath caught for a moment. “My dad? He was a good man. Very solid and upright. Firm but fair, and always quick with a bit of incisive wisdom. Tom and I called him the Oracle. If we were ever in a bind, he'd never fail to help us work it out. He'd never tell us anything outright. There was always a lesson to be learned, and he was a very good teacher.” “He sounds like a good man to emulate,” said Honour. “I guess he was grooming me for this moment,” Jack said thoughtfully. “Cheeky bastard, he had lessons in his lessons!” “I've seen you do the same thing with your men, Jack. And I've seen the way they respect you for it. You are a father figure to most of them. Take Eli, for example. He wants nothing more than your respect and approval.” “I guess I hadn't stopped to think of it that way.” “You're a natural born leader, Jack. Your father prepared you better than you know.” She took him by the lapels of his waistcoat and gave him a stern look. “Just remember, Zara is your daughter, not a member of your crew. I'll not have you ordering her about, do you understand?” Jack started to protest, then thought about her words. “You're right, as usual. Lord knows how well that strategy works with you!” “And it will work just as poorly with her. Doubly so, since she's a product of us both.” “Aye. I'll try my best. I can't promise I won't slip. Occupational hazard, and all that.” Honour smiled and looked into his eyes. “I know, Jack. Just as I know you will be a wonderful father.” He smiled, and kissed her softly. “With you beside me, I know I can do anything. But now it's your turn.” “My turn? What do you mean?” “I told you about my father. Now I'd like to hear about yours. You've told me practically nothing about him.” Jack stopped to look at the ornate door lintels and crown moulding. “I'm just dying to hear how the daughter of a stable hand lucked into this kind of money!” Honour bit her lip. “It's a rather long story.” “I like long stories,” he said gently. “It's time for truth between us, Rhiannon. Though you'll always be Honour to me. Don't worry! I won't love you one bit less. I swear it.”