El Lobo Del Mar

[Honour Bright]

Jack sat in the rocking chair and gently stroked his daughter's back while she laid her head on his chest, rocking her gently.
Honour looked over at the two of them and a feeling of contentment came over her.
'This is what I was running to all my life. This is where I belong.' She turned back again to look at the snow coming down. The fire crackled in the fireplace and when Honour turned around again, Zara was asleep in Jack's arms.
But then, so was Jack.
'If I accomplished anything in this life, it was giving Jack what he always wanted even if he didn't know it. A child of his own. And a chance at happiness.'

Honour carefully scraped a bit of frost from the window. She looked out at the snow coming down in silence, blanketing the earth with an eerie calmness, shrouded in white. Almost as if to whitewash her sins that were buried along with the man Honour had loved with her whole being. Her mind drifted back to another place, another time.
Another lifetime ago.

He whispered, "I know it's fatal, my love."
"Rhys. Rhys, please. Don't leave me. I love you."
"I love you too, Rhiannon."

And then he was gone. She felt a tear escape and trail down her cheek.
Hastily she wiped it away with the back of her hand and whispered, 'Please, Rhys. Please don't let your memory keep me from enjoying true happiness. Please go and stay buried deep down in my heart. If you ever loved me, let me go.'
She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself.

What would her life be like now? Would they constantly be on the run? Would they be sailing the seven seas? Would they have settled down?

She looked over at her husband sleeping in the rocking chair, their child curled up resting against his chest. At that moment Honour felt she couldn't love Jack any more than she did. She quietly walked over and covered the two of them with a quilt. Jack stirred and opened his eyes.
"She's asleep."
"Yes, she is, darling."
"I did good, didn't I?"
Honour looked at him lovingly and smiled.
"Yes, my darling. You did good."

[The Doctor]

“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 Bright]

Honour came into the conservatory where Megan had been sitting at her desk, surrounded by stationary, envelopes, inkpots and pens.
Zara was snuggled against her mother and reached out for Aunt Megan when she saw her.
Megan extended her arms and Zara went willingly.
"Megan, don't tell me you haven't finished with the invitations to your winter ball yet!"
Megan sighed. "I got delayed. My hand kept cramping up. But I am almost through."
Honour sat down and picked up the pen. "My handwriting is still good. Do you want me to finish up?"
Her sister bounced Zara on her knee and exclaimed, "I would love it!"
"Where are Dylan and Morwenna?"
"Upstairs with Nanny. She is going over their lessons with them. So I have a few hours of quiet to get this done."

Honour picked up the list and surveyed it.
"I take it the check marks are the ones already done?"
"Yes. I am a little over halfway through it."
"Good Lord, Megan! Have you invited all of Wales and half of northern England, too?"
"Well, you know that Daffyd has his hands in alot of different enterprises. And this IS the 'event of the season'."
Honour dipped the pen in the inkwell and started writing. She smiled as she wrote. "Do I need to make one out to Captain and Mrs. Jack Wolfe?"
Megan smiled back. "I am so happy you and Jack will be here for this."
Honour sat back and stretched. "I can't believe it will be the first social engagement that Jack and I will have that doesn't involve a tavern and someone getting a bottle broken over their head!"
Megan shook her head. "From the manor born and convent-bred, you certainly took a turn Father hadn't expected."
"Did anyone bother to tell him I got married? Again?"
Megan shook her head. "He won't hear a word from me, Rhiannon. Although I must say Jack cleans up well."
Honour laughed.
"Clean shaven and in clothes that aren't made out of the same fabric as the sails! Who would have thought?"
Megan said, "I suppose it is like sleeping with a different man!"
Honour and Megan looked at each other and burst out laughing.
Megan said, "You know what I mean!"

Honour resumed her writing. She affected a snobby voice and said, "Oooh, would you look at this? A countess, no less!"
Megan was playing pattycake with Zara and looked over. "Oh, well, actually her husband is--was--an earl. And you know there is no such title as Earl-ess."
Honour sighed and continued. A little over an hour went by and she finally stood up and stretched her arms above her head.
"Finished!"
Megan glanced up and said, "Wonderful! And your little one is asleep."
Zara was laying on a blanket by the fire, Muir curled up next to her.
"That dog just loves her, doesn't he?"
Honour laughed, "Since the day Zara was born, she has had Muir's undying love!"

Honour sat before the fire and gazed into it. Megan handed her a cup of tea.
"A shilling for your thoughts, love."
Honour gave her a small smile.
"You always knew when something was on my mind, didn't you?"
She nodded. "When you were born, Mother said you were my present. And I was to watch over you."
Honour took a sip of her tea and said softly, "She never knew how right she would be."
Megan reached over and touched her hand.
"He still crosses your mind, doesn't he?"
Honour nodded, still gazing at the fire.
Megan sighed. "I thought so. Sometimes when you look out the window, I would catch you glancing in that direction."
"It doesn't help that Castlemaine is two miles away."
"We always seem to skirt around what happened, Rhiannon. Would it help to talk?"
"Maybe." She felt the tears come unbidden to her eyes. "I just wondered if he got a decent burial, Megan. I felt awful---I just ran. I felt like I abandoned Rhys."
Megan shook her head sadly. "I never told you because it was such a sensitive subject. A crewman of his stopped here, thinking this was Castlemaine. He said he was looking for his captain. Captain Rhys Morgan, he said. Fortunately Daffyd was not home. I directed him to Castlemaine. I knew he must have been with you. And if Rhys Morgan brought you a few hours of happiness, it wasn't for me to judge or even stand in the way. Everyone knew what a cruel bastard Madoc Castlemaine was. Everyone except Father. He thought you needed a firm hand. And that Madoc would be the right husband to whip you into shape."
Honour gave a bitter laugh. "Whip he hardly did. At least not to where it showed. His abuse was more psychological."
Megan continued, "I sent the crewman on the way to Castlemaine. He had told me he was to meet Rhys at 8:00 PM. With a carriage."
"We were to leave that night."
"I am guessing that the crewman found Rhys. And took his body with him. No one said. And he would see that Rhys had a proper burial."

Honour's hand started to shake and her teacup tottered. Megan took it out of her hand and laid her hand on her sister's.
"What is it, Rhiannon?"
Honour turned to her with bewildered eyes. She said quietly, "What if Rhys is still alive?"

[Honour Bright]

Now it was Megan's turn to rattle her teacup. She set it down gently and then turned to her sister.
Honour shook her head and said more to herself than Megan, "But he can't be. I held him as he took his last breath. The blood...so much blood.... "
Megan reached over and held her sister by the shoulders, forcing her to look at her.
In slow, measured tones, she asked, "Rhiannon, what makes you think he may be alive?"
Honour looked at her with troubled eyes. She barely whispered, "I saw him. Megan, I swear, I saw him!"
"Where? Where did you see Rhys Morgan?"
"In the Azores. Jack and I met at a tavern and I saw him walk by."
"Did you see his face?"
"N-no."
"Then how do you know it was him?"
"The same boots."
"Rhiannon, think about it. A pair of boots?"
"And his coat. And his rapier. And he walked just like Rhys."
"Darling, every pirate walks the same," Megan said quietly.
Honour laughed shakily, "You're right. Of course you are right. It was just my mind playing tricks on me, wasn't it?"
Megan nodded. "Yes, Rhiannon."
Rhiannon laughed again, a bit too brightly. "Yes. Just my mind."
Megan patted her sister's hand. "And now you put it behind you. Rhys Morgan is no longer a part of your life."
Honour wiped the tear away from her eyes.
"And God willing, Jack will never know."
"You never told him that part of your past, did you?"
She shook her head. "How do you tell your husband you killed his best friend?"
Megan said sternly, "You didn't kill Rhys Morgan. He was a full-grown man, and he chose to see you that night, knowing he was with another man's wife. I'm sorry, Rhiannon, for the way it turned out. But don't blame yourself."

Zara stirred and Honour covered her up again with the blanket.
"I don't. And the fact that I have Zara is proof enough that I am meant to be happy. And I will be. As soon as I get back to Barbados."

[The Doctor]

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?

[The Doctor]

"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...

[The Doctor]

“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.

[Honour Bright]

"Have you heard from Josiah yet?" Honour asked.
Jack looked up from the book he was reading. "Funny you should mention that. I got a letter today. They reached Amsterdam safely and with no incidents."
"When will he be back?"
"About two weeks. Homesick?"
She leaned over Jack's shoulder and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"Yes, I think I am. It was grand to see Megan and Dilys and Gwyneth but I miss the sun."
Jack laughed. "It was funny to see you with your sisters. I swear, the more you talked, the thicker your Welsh accent got. And when you and your sisters lapsed into Welsh, I couldn't keep up."
She laughed. "And you don't realize it, but when you talked with Angus, you kept right up with his Scottish brogue. I never heard you roll your 'r's that way!"
He reached over and patted her cheek.
"You can thank my maternal grandmother for that. She lives in Scotland and I used to visit her during summer. But we will be home soon enough. I can't wait to see the plantation you bought. It sounds like everything you ever wanted. Even better than Mr. Picou's property."
"About the plantation, Jack---"

"Da-da!" Zara held onto the edge of a small table and let go.
"Come on! That's my girl! Put one foot in front of the other and--"
WHOMP!
Zara sat down on her bottom. Jack sighed. "So close..."
Honour picked her up.
"And now it is time that Zara went to bed. And then I think Mummy needs to get some sleep too. Say night-night to Da."
Zara yawned as she laid her head on Honour's chest. She gave Jack a baby-wave and Jack blew her a kiss as Honour put their daughter to bed.

As they laid in bed, Jack said, "Honour, I think I would like to have your portrait done."
"Mmm hmm....."
"Honour?"
Silence.
He laughed softly and said, "You haven't heard a word I said. Sleep tight, love."
He leaned over and kissed his wife's cheek, then snuffed out the candle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think this dress is very becoming, don't you?"
Rhiannon looked at Madoc and sighed. "It's alright. But the colour is so awful! I would look like an old woman in that dress."
Madoc's mouth drew into a tight line. "It is very fitting as to your station as Lady Castlemaine."

Rhiannon flung herself backwards on the bed and stared at the ceiling. "But I would look about forty in that dress, Madoc."
He held the dress up. "It is what you will wear."
She took the dress and made a face. "It smells funny. Like it has been in a closet for a long time."
He ignored the remark. "And here are some pearls. Three strands and a rosary attached. To show your piety."
"PIETY?" she laughed.
"Piety. You were, after all, brought up in a convent. Surely piety is not an unknown quality to you."
"Why do I have to sit for a portrait?"
"Because it is a tradition in the Castlemaine legacy."
"So what did you do with the former lovely Lady Castlemaine captured for eternity on canvas?"
Madoc looked out the window and said quietly, "Margaret's portrait is now over at Henry's house."
"Well, I am sure he is happy to have his mother back with him again. Can't we just do this another time? Like when I am an old lady? I mean, by the time I am thirty, the character will be there and I will be a much more interesting subject."

Madoc's hand touched her arm and it made her shiver. But not the way Rhys' touch had made her shiver. Madoc's was cold. As cold as ice. It matched his heart. 'Old Vinegar Veins', Rhiannon had called him under her breath and behind his back.
She held the dress up and said, "I think this dress is hideous."
Madoc grabbed her by the arm and said in his deadly calm voice, "You will wear it if I have to dress you in it myself."
His face was close to her and she could see the coldness in his eyes. She tried to match it but her gaze faltered.
"As you wish, Milord."

He gave a self-satisfied smile. "That is more like it, Madame. The painter is due here at 1:00. The light in the library will be perfect till late afternoon."
"The library? Madoc, why not the gardens? It's so nice out and the library is musty and---"
"The library."

He let her arm go and Rhiannon rubbed it where it hurt.
"Alright. I'll change into this....gown."
Madoc left and she stepped out of her chemise. Another bruise to add to the other ones on her arms and shoulders. Madoc's control was not only over her mind, but her body as well.
She rubbed the spot, hoping that it wouldn't be seen by anyone. Most of all by her sisters. Dilys would make a scene and at the most inconvenient time. And then Rhiannon would pay for it later.

Rhoslyn, her maid, came into the room.
"Lord Castlemaine sent me to help you lace, Milady."
She could see Rhoslyn glance at Rhiannon's arm and bite her lip.
"Oh..this. Silly me. I ran into the casement window latch."
"Ye do that quite a bit, Milady. Always bumping into what you ought not. Ye be careful, Milady. I like you."
Rhoslyn met her eyes and Rhiannon nodded slowly. "Thank you, Rhoslyn. I shall. Now would you help me into this dress?"
Rhoslyn blurted out, "That one?"
Rhiannon looked puzzled. "Yes. I don't like it much myself...."
"But--but that dress be HERS!"
Rhoslyn's eyes darted nervously to the window.
The window that overlooked the cemetery.

Rhiannon dropped the dress as if it were on fire.
"You--you mean it was HERS?"
"Aye, milady. Lord Castlemaine bought it for her. She was wearing it the night she fell down the stairs. Broke her neck clean, it did."
Rhiannon gathered the dress up. "I refuse to wear the dress of a dead woman. Especially one who was wearing it when the incident that helped her shed this mortal coil occurred. And I don't care if I get....never mind. I know what to do."

With determination, Rhiannon took the dress and held it oh, so carefully to the fire.
Rhoslyn's eyes grew round.
"Milady..don't..."
Rhiannon took the dress with the singed front.
"Oh, dear. Look what happened. I guess I warmed myself in front of the fire too closely. It appears to be ruined. Now, if Lord Vinegar---if Lord Madoc wants my portrait, he will have to settle for the deep purple one. Oh, and lace me tight. VERY tight. I may as well show my best side to the painter. Lord Castlemaine doesn't want to see the portrait until it is done. A nice surprise for the lord, don't you think?"

She knew she would pay dearly for her rebellion but she didn't care. All she knew was that she was in a hopeless situation and this was one small amount of control she had over her own life.

If only you had taken me with you, Rhys.....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"NO!! PLEASE NO! DON'T!"

The scream from his wife woke Jack out of a sound sleep.
"Honour? Honour! Shhh....my darling, it is just a nightmare. Hush...I'm here."
He gently rocked her as she sobbed in her twilight sleep.
"I--I'm sorry, " she could barely whisper.
He made soothing sounds but it didn't help the worried look on his face.
"Honour," he said gently, "perhaps you should talk to someone about these nightmares. A priest, if you have one handy. Or maybe Megan and you can get to the root of them. Or you could talk to me..."

From the nursery, Zara began to cry.
Honour started to get up.
"No, don't, Honour. I'll tend to her."
She laid back against the pillow and tried to get herself under control. Within a few minutes, Jack came back to bed, holding Zara.
"I guess she woke up when you screamed. But Mummy is alright now, isn't she, precious?"
Jack handed Zara to her and then got back into bed.
"This bed seems to be big enough for all of us, wouldn't you say? Just this once?"

Honour held her baby close to her, trying not to cry. She kissed the top of her head and tucked her in between the both of them. Jack looked over at Zara and put his finger up to where she could clutch it. Sleepily, Zara took his finger and held tight.
Jack smiled gently at Honour and said, "Are you alright now, love?"
She managed a smile. "Jack, I will be fine. I just had an intense dream."
Jack stroked her cheek. "Want to tell me about it?"
She sighed. "It was kind of jumbled. I --I was just in a trap and couldn't escape. But I am alright now."
"Is it always the same dream?"
"Pretty much. I'm like a wounded animal and my way out is suddenly taken away from me and I feel so...helpless."
"Honour, talk to a priest if it will help. Or even me."
She shook her head.
"There is nothing to talk about. Jack, it is just something that I have had since I was a child."
"Is it about your mother?" he said gently.
Honour shrugged and yawned. "Can we talk about this in the morning?"
He kissed the top of her head and said, "Yes, my dear. Now get some sleep."
But she didn't reply.
She was already sound asleep.

[The Doctor]

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.

[Honour Bright]

Three days later~~

Honour, it's so cold out. Are you sure you want to go?"
"Jack, Taffy Farmington sent me an invitation to tea. And I already accepted. In this neck of the woods, a change of heart is considered a kiss of death."
"Then I'll take you in the carriage. You will stay warmer."
"No, darling. I will be fine. I've been riding since I was three. And I have my cloak and a muff to keep my hands warm. Goodness, Megan's mare knows the way by heart. And I need you to watch Zara. Megan has too much to do with the ball. The nanny is busy with Morwenna and Dylan and Zara is asleep. So find something to amuse yourself and I will be back in a few hours."
Jack looked at the chest in the corner.
"I suppose I could look at the scrolls."
She gave him a quick kiss and said, "Now you are talking! Put the quiet time to good use. I should be back by five o'clock."
He drew her cloak up around her neck and tied it securely.
"Be careful then."

Honour had the mare saddled and ready in fifteen minutes.
"Thank you, Harrison. I'll take good care of her."
Harrison tipped his cap. "I know ye will, Ma'am."
She patted Domino and whispered, "Change of plans, Domino. Let's go."
She cleared the barn door and kicked the mare's flanks gently. She galloped across the pasture.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There it stood, its imposing dark turrets grasping towards the heavens in a sinister reach. Honour sat there on the mare, a chill running down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. She gazed at it, trying to look at it with an objective eye. The mare stood still, not moving a muscle. Almost as if she sensed the foreboding of the castle.
Rhiannon stared at the cold grey stones and took a deep breath.
'If I am ever to put this behind me--a stop to the nightmares---I need to confront this now.'

She thought back to the night before. She and Megan had finally talked about that fateful night. Megan had tactfully never brought it up. In fact, she referred to it as 'that unfortunate incident' as if it were a glass of spilled claret on a snowy white tablecloth.
Honour and Jack had spent a delightful evening in their rooms by themselves after dinner. Jack had played on the floor with Zara, watching as she tried to pull herself up on the furniture but always plopping down before she was able to stand.

"Give her time, Jack. She will be standing by herself inside of a fortnight."
"I know you are right. But she's a Wolfe. Isn't she brilliant?"
Honour had to agree. After Zara had been put to bed, she and Jack sat before the fire, sipping on brandy and warming themselves before the fire.
The night ended like it usually did, and they fell asleep in each other's arms.
And then it happened.
The nightmares began again.

She bit her lip as she thought back to the terror of the night. It was always the same. Details were still hazy but it always ended with her screaming. Jack always held her and gently rocked her as he would Zara after she had come out of it. He had been most understanding but he thought it had to do with the death of her mother. And she couldn't tell him what was the cause.
Not now.
Not ever.

Honour dismounted the mare and tied her to the tree to the right of the gate, its gnarled and twisted trunk almost a reflection of what had dwelled there.
She patted the horse on the nose and said softly, "I won't be long, Domino.'
She looked up at the house, almost as if she could feel the evil that had emanated within.
Taking a deep breath she walked over to the massive gate of the estate. The latch was rusted, the wrought iron hung on its hinges. She pushed with all her might with her shoulder and was able to budge it enough to squeeze her slim body through.
But she wasn't quite prepared for what she saw out back.
The cemetery.

Having come over from France with William the Conqueror, the Castlemaines were a force to be reckoned with in the shire. So much so that the church's consecrated ground was not even good enough for them.
Honour willed herself to walk forward even though her first instinct was to run.
The wrought iron gate surrounded the stones that looked like mushrooms that had sprung up through the snow. There were maybe fifty of them.

Madoc's first wife was buried there. Honour had always found it disconcerting, knowing that their chamber window faced the graveyard and Madoc's wife was there, as if watching Honour take her place at Madoc's side.
And in his bed.

Honour's boots crunched on the hard packed snow underneath the layers of softly dusted powder. A light snow was coming down, falling softly as if to muffle the whispers and uttered judgements of the deceased. Steadily she walked forward, glancing at the mare to make sure she was still there. Domino's breath came in white puffs as her warm breath condensed in the cold air.
Honour put her hand on the gate. It hung loosely and she pushed, a soft groan of metal on metal, as if it protested the intrusion of the living.
She looked at the dates on the stones, the history of the family written for all time in slate and marble. Castlemaines whose lives were played out only through their epitaphs, giving no clue as to what they were like. Who they loved. Or who they hated.

And then she saw it.

It was of marble and perhaps eight feet tall. On it was carved the name.

Lord Madoc Castlemaine

As if he was Lord of the dead.
She felt as if he were watching, knowing she was there but not to pay her respects. Honour self-consciously stepped away from the grave, almost as if afraid he would reach up from the dark earth and grab her, dragging her to his hellish grave.
'So you did get a decent burial after all. You bastard. I hope you are roasting where I know you are.' She felt her hands clamp in fisted rage as she confronted the monument to the man who sought to lay her in the ground instead of himself.

She turned quickly, forcing herself to walk slowly and deliberately out of the graveyard, the trees swaying in the winter wind, howling as if in mourning.
She knew there was only one more step to do for closure.
She had to go inside the castle.

[Honour Bright]

She practically tore the iron gate from its hinges in her haste to leave the cemetery.
Her breath came in ragged gasps as the cold air hit her air passages, leaving her with a feeling of suffocation. She willed herself to slow her breathing and gained control of it.

Domino patiently pawed the ground, the snow making shallow trenches. Honour looked up at the sky. She had forgotten that the gloam of twilight on a Welsh night came earlier than the pink and orange hues of a Caribbean sunset and suddenly she was wishing she was back to the place that had felt like home to her.
But she had to see this through.

Honour carefully walked up the massive stone steps that led to a heavy English oak door. She lifted the latch on the front door. To her surprise, it was not rusted yet it creaked in protest as if it were disturbed from a one-hundred year sleep.
The light barely streamed through the narrow windows but still the shadows played on the wall, as if fingers could reach out and close around your throat. Honour felt around the lintel and her hand found what it was looking for.
A candle and a box of flints. She struck one on the cold stone wall and sparked it, then held the flame to the wick. She blew it out and put the candle in the holder that was always on the library table next to the door. She held it aloft to better see the room where she had been forced to play Lady of the Manor and was expected to greet Madoc's guests.
'How was I supposed to act, Madoc? I was only seventeen years old.'

Cobwebs covered the furniture. She shuddered as her eyes wandered over to the wingback chair that Madoc had always sat in. A book lay by the table, face down and open as if waiting patiently for the reader to resume his place.
A place that the reader would never come back to.

The fireplace had the burnt embers of a fire spent. Her eyes followed upwards and what she saw next, she gasped in disbelief.

It wasn't so much viewing the portrait of her that Madoc had commissioned to have painted that frightened her. It was what had been done to it.
It had been rent from top to bottom and slashed crosswise and diagonally, till its canvas lay in tattered strips. A dagger lay embedded where her heart would have been.

Honour reluctantly drew her eyes away from the defaced painting. The shadow the furniture cast upon the walls gave the room an eerie feeling. She couldn't help but look at the grand staircase that split into two directions midway. As she did, she could almost hear Rhys's voice and smell the fresh sea with a touch of horse and leather that was Rhys. A scent that never failed to make her blood race.

Her feet felt like lead but she willed them to lead her to confronting her past, once and for all times. Her footsteps echoed in the hollowness of the room as she climbed the steps slowly, the candle dripping wax from the wick. She breathed deeply and as she came to the bedchamber, she rested her hand on the door post.
Cautiously she opened the door.

The room stood almost exactly as she had left it that night. The dresser drawers were left open where she had emptied them in her haste to flee. The armoire door was open and a few pieces of finery were still scattered on the floor. She held the candle aloft and her eyes followed the glow.
To the featherbed.
But with one change.
The sheets were gone.

Her eyes roamed over the room, cobwebs draping from the corners and the furniture like spun out of the remnants of despair that hung in the room. She cried out loud when she saw something against the wall.
Bloodstains.

Her aim was true that night, driven out of self-preservation. Madoc stared at her in disbelief for what seemed like a minute but was in actuality only seconds. His hand touched her bodice dagger as if he couldn't believe it. He was thrown back against the wall, his lifeblood seeping quickly, taking his life force with it. He reached out to her in supplication, the blood bubbling forth from his lips. He tried to form her name with his lips. He slid down the wall and then fell forward on the stone floor. She sat there on the bed, her eyes were wide with horror.

She tore her gaze away from the stains and her eye caught something near the baseboard. She reached over and picked it up. Turning it over in her hands, she recognized it.
It was the ring that Rhys had always worn, the crest of the Morgan family engraved on it. Her eyes filled with tears.

He whispered, "I know it's fatal, my love."
"Rhys. Rhys, please. Don't leave me. I love you."
"I love you too, Rhiannon."

The ghosts of the past were proving too much for Honour. She stood up and hurried across the room. As she walked by, a screeching noise was heard from inside the chimney.
She screamed and ran out as fast as she could, not stopping for anything. She ran down the stairs at breakneck speed and flung the door open.
Mounting Domino in one quick motion, she kicked the horse in the flanks and fled from Castlemaine as fast as the mare would take her.

The castle stood in the gloam of the evening, never giving up its secrets save one.
The cat climbed out of the chimney and hurried off in search of mice.

[The Doctor]

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.

[Honour Bright]

"Do you think the silver candlesticks or the crystal ones would look better, Daffyd?"
"My dear, are you ever going to stop fretting over the Winter Ball?"
Daffyd lit his pipe and smiled indulgently at his wife.
Megan frowned, "I just want it to be the ball that everyone will take about, that's all."
"Megan, they already are talking about it."
"Did you and Jack have a nice time at the horse breeder's?"
Daffyd nodded. "We did. Lord, I like that man. Very knowledgeable. Oxford-educated, you know. Had the makings of a fine professor."
"So what happened?"
"He's not saying much about it. Guess it was maybe just a case of wanderlust and trying to find himself."

Daffyd picked up the list. "Countess Carlisle? Edwin died, do you still keep in contact with his wife?"
"I owe her a social obligation, Daffyd."
He groaned, "When will it ever end?"
"Probably never. Do we have enough wine in the cellar?"
"For who, Countess Carlisle? But yes, we do. There is enough sherry and claret to service the entire fleet of ships parked in the harbor. Most are waiting in the harbor for the ice floes to melt so they can sail off to warmer weather. The storm a few weeks ago caught them all by surprise."
"I'll miss Rhiannon when she leaves. Jack and especially Zara."
"We still have them till Jack's friend comes back from Amsterdam with the ship."

Daffyd sat down in front of the fire and took off his shoes, warming his feet.
"Aaaah! And were is the happy little family now?"
"Jack took Rhiannon to town to look at fabric for a dress and also some new clothes for Zara. The child is growing so fast she will be out of her clothes in a month."
"Do you feel good about Zara and Rhiannon being on a pirate ship, dear?"
Megan sighed. "Daffyd, Rhiannon has gone through so much. I haven't seen her this happy since...."
"I know. But that happiness was tainted with good old-fashioned St Brigid guilt and then there was..,.you know...adultery."
Megan replied, "Adultery is such a harsh word. And I am of the opinion that it doesn't apply in this case. Rhiannon was practically forced into marriage to Madoc. Imagine a seventeen-year-old girl married to an old man of forty-seven!"
Daffyd chuckled, "I am surprised she didn't kill him!"
Megan slapped his arm in mock outrage. "That is my sister you are talking about! Madoc kept Rhiannon isolated. I think the only time I saw her in the six months she was married to the monster was at a few balls. Madoc wouldn't let any of us near her. Except that Dilys went ahead and literally shoved Madoic aside to talk to Rhiannon."
Daffyd laughed, "I remember that! Madoc about turned purple with apoplexy!"
Megan continued, "We were never able to find out how she was, how Madoc was treating her or if she needed anything."
Daffyd took a draw on his pipe. "Except for the ball where he unveiled her portrait. Lord, I swear I will never forget the look on Madoc's face when finally saw it!"
Megan sniffed, "Serves him right for not looking at it before he threw his big soiree."
Daffyd shrugged, "Yes but you know the mighty Lord Castlemaine always had to do things in a grand way. And Rhiannon was just something to wave under the noses of the shire. He had a young--very young---beautiful wife to beget heirs on.
"Wasn't the three he had with the first Lady Castlemaine enough for him?"
"Apparently not. I'm just pleased as can be that Rhiannon never had children by him. Little sour pusses, they would be. Even with Rhiannon as their mother."

Daffyd got up to put a few more logs on the fire.
"She's happy. Jack is good for her. And they love each other. It's a damn shame Jack Wolfe didn't come into her life instead of Rhys Morgan."
Megan took up her needlepoint.
"From what Rhiannon has said, Rhys was good and kind and gentle. He loved her, Daffyd. And the guilt is still with her. I don't know if it will ever leave her entirely. She was even able to talk about it now."
"What did she say?"
"She was convinced she saw Rhys Morgan when they were in the Azores."

They were both quiet. Daffyd broke the silence.
"Do you think you should tell her the truth about what really happened that night?"
Megan looked up and said in a steely voice, "No. She is truly happy for the first time in her life. Let sleeping dogs lie."
He poured himself another brandy. "I agree. No good can come of it. Why should the happiness of Rhiannon and Jack--and especially Zara's future--be compromised? You're right, darling. We let the dead bury the dead."

[Honour Bright]

"Come on, darling! You can do it!"
Honour was standing behind Zara holding her hands. Jack sat about five feet away with his arms outstretched. Zara looked up at her mother's face bending over her, a tentative look on her face.
"Come on, sweetheart--come to Da!"
Zara looked at her father, a look of determination crossing her delicate features. Honour had to stifle a giggle as she whispered, "I've seen that look before! You can't deny her as your daughter, Jack Wolfe!"

Zara put one foot out and then wobbled. Honour tightened her grip on her little daughter's hand until she regained her balance.
Jack sat there and gave her an encouraging look and wiggled his fingers towards her. She put one foot in front of the other and Honour gently slid her fingers out from Zara's fists.
Zara took three steps and fell forward just as Jack caught her.
"Oh, my little girl! Did you see that? Did you see how brave she was?"
Honour laughed. "She had to do it eventually, Jack. But at least her daddy was there to catch her!"
He hugged her close and she patted his face.
"Do you think she will do it again?"
"I have no doubt, dear. Now that she knows she can do it, she won't be afraid."
"She never was afraid. After all, she's a Wolfe!"
"I think for that she deserves a cookie!" Honour laughed.
"Good thinking! A thin mint cookie would be an incentive to keep trying."
"Jack, she's done it once and knows she can do it again. She will continue to walk now."

Just then there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," Jack called.
Megan came in, a few boxes in her arms.
"Rhiannon, these were just delivered from Madame Doucet. I do believe it is the dress you ordered for the winter ball."
Honour jumped up. "Oh, my goodness! And in record time, too!"
"She always was your favorite seamstress when you were ma----when you were masquerading at the balls in London."
Honour shot her a look and hurriedly took the box from Megan.
"I'm sorry!" Megan whispered.
"What are you two whispering about?" Jack looked up from holding his little girl.
"Nothing you need to know about, Mr. Wolfe!" Megan laughed a bit too quickly.
"I can't wait to try it on!"
"I'll help you."
"Jack, could you please watch Zara for about fifteen minutes and then bring her upstairs?"
Jack was already on the floor playing with his daughter.
"No problem. And don't I get to see you in that dress?"
"No! Not until the ball. You can wait another week."

Megan shut the door behind them.
"Rhiannon, I'm sorry. I almost let it slip out."
"I know. That was really close."
"I don't agree with you keeping your marriage to Madoc a secret from Jack."
"Megan, I HAVE to. It would lead to more questions."
"The more you try to keep a secret, the more it wants to get out, Rhiannon."
"I know. I'll worry about that later and....oh! Look at this!"

Honour opened the box and drew out a dress of burgundy peau de soie with a fitted bodice and a skirt that dropped and flared.
"Oh, Rhiannon! How gorgeous!"
She lifted it and held it against her. "Jack will love this!" she breathed. Megan rolled her eyes. "Rhiannon, I swear, the two of you---"
"---are enjoying our time together without the crew. I can't wait to get back to Barbados and raise Zara there."
"And what about little wolfes? Any plans for a pack?"
Rhiannon laughed. "You never know, Megan. "
Megan wrinkled her nose. "I wouldn't be surprised to see you have a litter!"
"A litter of what?"
Jack had opened the door, his arms full of baby.
Megan hastily shoved the dress in the box and Rhiannon sat quickly on it, the lid bouncing up and hitting her in the arse.
"A litter of kittens. Megan thinks that Mittens is expecting. May I have one?"
Jack sighed. "Honour, we won't be here that long. We leave the day after the ball. Briggs is scheduled to come back then. I got a letter from him."
Honour sighed. "Alright. But when we get back to Barbados, I want a kitten. For Zara."
"Uh huh. For Zara. And what would Puddin' think?"
"Well, we just don't tell him!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Honour laid Zara down in her crib and covered her up gently. Jack leaned against the doorframe.
"I don't think I have ever seen such a beautiful sight."
"She's getting so big now. Not a baby anymore. A toddler."

"Do you want to try for another child, Honour?"
She smiled. "Let's take it slower, Captain. After all, we have only been reunited for about six weeks now!"
He sighed. "I just missed so much that I don't want to miss anymore. I'm not getting any younger."
"She's not even a year old, Jack. Let's enjoy her. And each other."
"How old was your father when you were born, Honour?"
"I don't know....I guess he was around thirty-four."
"Thirty-four and he had four daughters. I'm thirty-six and have only one."
"Let's get settled in Barbados first."
"You never talk about your father. What is he like?"
"Bold. Arrogant. Stubborn. Lord of the Manor."
"When was the last time you saw him? When you left St Brigid's?"
"Jack, why all the questions?"
"I just want to know what he is like. Would I like him?"
"No," she said curtly.
"Why not?"
"Because I don't."
"But, Honour, it's your father."
She turned on Jack and said, "I don't want to talk about him."
"What are the chances of me meeting him someday?"
"Don't bet the ship on it. Jack, let's just get back to Barbados."
He kissed her and held her close. "I understand. I miss the Caribbean. And I can't wait to get into that plantation you bought. It may not be Monsieur Picou's, but I bet it comes close."
"Very close, darling. VERY close!"

[The Doctor]

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!”

[Honour Bright]

Honour came downstairs as Megan was sorting through candles and decor for the ball. She had boxes and crates opened and packing materials strewn everywhere.
"Megan, what on earth hit this room? A cyclone?"
Megan puffed her breath up and her hair fluffed away from her red face.
"I think I bit off more than I can chew with this, Rhiannon."
"You said that last year, Megan."
"This year I mean it."
"Said that last year, too."
"I'm glad the menfolk are away for the day. I can get the lion's share done without Daffyd telling me not to make a fuss."

She shifted Zara to her shoulder. The baby yawned and Rhiannon rocked her.
"Let me put Zara to sleep and then I wil help you sort through this mess. Maybe we can get most of it done and put aside for the servants to hang the decorations."
Megan sat on the floor. "If only I had made the winter ball for summer, I could open up the veranda and the guests could spill out there."
"But then it wouldn't be the winter ball, Megan."
She laughed, "Oh, yes. That's right!"

Honour rocked Zara and sang gently to her.

Gee, geffyl bach, yn cario ni'n dau
Dros y mynydd i hela cnau;
Dŵr yn yr afon a'r cerrig yn slic,
Cwympo ni'n dau. Wel dyna i chi dric!

Cwyd Robin bach a saf ar dy draed,
Sych dy lygad, anghofio'r gwaed;
Neidiwn ein dau ar ein ceffyl bach gwyn,
Dros y mynydd, ac i lawr y glyn.

Gee, geffyl bach dros frigau y coed,
Fel y Tylwyth Teg mor ysgafn dy droed,
Carlam ar garlam ar y cwmwl gwyn;
Naid dros y lleuad, ac i lawr at y llyn.

Megan looked over at her and said quietly, "Do you know what you are singing, Rhiannon?"
"Hmm? Just a lullaby."
Megan looked down. "It was a lullaby Mother used to sing to you. To me. To all of us."
Honour could feel a lump in her throat.
"Do you blame me, Megan? For Mother's death?"
Megan clasped her sister's free hand and said quickly, "Most certainly not! It was an accident pure and simple."
"Father never saw it that way."
"Father never got over losing her."
Honour looked towards the fire, gazing into it as if she coud read the past. "He sent me away, Megan. Six years old and he sent me away."
Megan's eyes met her sisters and Honour could see the love Megan had for her reflected in them.
"Thank you. Thank you for coming to visit me when you could."
She squeezed her sister's hand. "I did what I could."
Honour touched the silver chain around her neck. "You most certainly did."

Zara stirred gently as her eyes shut. Honour gave Megan the blanket and she spread it by the fireplace. Gently the baby was laid down.
"I think she will sleep for a few hours. Now...shall we get down to the business of getting the ball plans under way before Jack and Daffyd come home?"
"I think that would be best. Let's get to it!"

"...and the crystal bowls with silver and gold balls can go on each end of the serving table."
"Why not surround it with laurel branches and a few sprigs of holly?"
"That is a wonderful idea!'
"What is a wonderful idea?" an authoritative voice said from the doorway.
The bowl slipped from Honour's hands and crashed on the floor.
Megan looked up and said one word.

"FATHER!"

[Honour Bright]

Lord Rhodri Conaway stood in the doorway, larger than life.
He was not really a large man but his presence made him seem so. But somehow he seemed not as tall as Honour had remembered him. Maybe it had been the two years since she had seen him. She had been under a great deal of stress when she had returned home. Her presumed desertion by Rhys Morgan when he didn't return for her when he promised. And her subsequent curt dismissal from the Order of St Brigid.

At fifty-five, he still had the stern, patrician features, the strong jaw that marked the Conaway lords that had come before him. His steel-blue eyes took in the sight of his two daughters in the midst of their decorating plans.
He held his arms out.
"Is this any kind of greeting for your father?"
Megan dutifully went to her father and embraced him.
"Welcome home, Father. How was London?"
"In an upheaval with the change from the Crown to Cromwell. Our sort is having a hard time, what with the politics. Rhiannon? No embrace for your father?"
She ignored him and said stiffly, "Hello, Father. I'm sorry about the crystal, Megan."
She picked up the broken pieces. Her fingers trembled, a shard cutting her. She quickly wrapped her finger in the kerchief she kept in her waistband for Zara's needs.
Megan hurriedly said, "No problem, Rhiannon. It was an extra bowl from a set we received from Daffyd's grandmother. Daffyd broke one last year and it has been an odd number ever since. Now they all match once again."

"And what have we here?"
Lord Conaway looked down and reached for Zara. Honour was quicker and picked Zara up. The baby stirred, frowning in her sleep.
"She's mine."
He reached out to touch her curls. Honour turned her away from him.
"So you have a child. Do you have a wedding ring to go with her?"
Megan cried indignantly, "Father!"
"Well, Madoc has been dead longer than the required time to have a child this age and knowing the way your sister is..."
"I beg your pardon, Father!"
He turned to Honour and said, "Well, have you found yourself a husband or is this child the product of a chance encounter?"
Honour held Zara close to her and said through clenched teeth, "She's legitimate and yes, to answer your unspoken question, she is baptized and I can produce the papers to prove it, if you so desire."
He waved his hand dismissively, "That won't be necessary. She is a bonny lass, isn't she? And her name is....?"
"Zara."
He looked expectantly at her.
"Zara Wolfe."
"Ah, so your husband would be Mr. Wolfe. And does this Mr. Wolfe have a first name?"
"Of course."
"Then since he has chosen to mingle his blood with that of the Conaway blood, might I have his first name?"
"John. John Wolfe."
"And what does Mr. John Wolfe do for a livelihood?"
"We own a plantation in Barbados."
"What kind of plantation?"
"Sugar. We purchased five hundred acres outside of Bridgetown. Why all the questions?"
"I want to make sure my little girl is well cared for."

Honour gave a derisive laugh. "Since when did you care?"
His jaw tightened. "I see all these months have not tempered your defiance, Rhiannon. Your wild ways are what got you into trouble to begin with. First with the Mother Superior and then the unfortunate...incident regarding your husband."
"Incident?" Megan exclaimed. "Madoc tried to kill her, Father."
"And what did she do? She ran away. She made matters worse."
Honour could barely control her rage. "Did you expect me to swing from the gallows for the crime of self-defense?"
"I expected you to come to me for help."
"Help? HELP? The last time I came to you for help, you married me off to a cruel monster! I was afraid of whatever other tricks you had. Or did you have another old fart in mind to marry me off to?"
Lord Conaway said coldly, "And did you have another young stallion in the barn, pawing at the ground after the death of the one you were dallying with? I can only hope you learned your lesson after all I have gone through to clean up this mess you made."
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"I mean no Conaway is ever going to swing for murder. EVER. Not only have I been sitting in Parliament in London, I have been clearing your--OUR--name."
He reached into his greatcoat and produced a paper.
"This just came through. It is a full absolution for Lady Rhiannon Conaway Castlemaine in the implication of the murder of Lord Madoc Castlemaine. Your dearly departed husband."

"But how...why?..."
"How? Coins showered into the waiting palms of a few Judas Iscariots who care more for sovereigns than justice."
"You mean....?"
"You can walk out of this mess without any retribution and not look over your shoulder. But there is one thing. You will waive all rights to your inheritance. Madoc's sons, who were out to avenge their father, seems to be mollified with the 'donation' of the meadowland that is between our two estates. The land that was to be yours in my will. You will not receive a farthing from me anymore, Rhiannon. All rights are to be given up. Is that understood?"

Honour stood there with her mouth open. Lord Rhodri Conaway took the baby out of her arms.
"Now, this is the newest addition to the Conaway women."
In her shock, Honour stood there as her father looked at Zara. The baby woke up and stared at Rhodri with her blue eyes, not even daring to cry.
He looked at Zara and murmured, "She has her mother's--and her grandmother's--blue eyes. Yes, a fine bonny lass to the Conaway name! And when will I meet the venerable Mr. Wolfe?"
Rhiannon found her voice. "He and Daffyd had some business and they shall be back by dinnertime."

Megan spoke up, "A word in private, Father, if you please?"
Lord Conaway handed Zara back to Honour and followed Megan to an anteroom.
"Father, I have a request to make."
"And that would be...?"
"John Wolfe does not know of Rhiannon's past."
"What?"
Megan gently explained, "Rhiannon met John Wolfe when she ran to Barbados. From what I understand, it was a love-at-first-sight-let's-get-married situation. She was afraid to tell him and as time went on, she saw no need to mention it to John."
"When she came to Wales, did she not think that he might find out, what with the scandal it caused? Townspeople talk, you know. They still talk. And your sister gave them a plethora to gossip about."

Megan thought quickly. "John had some business here and he surprised Rhiannon when they were on board. He thought it would be a nice surprise for her to see her family. She was hoping that it would never be brought to light."

Lord Conaway shook his head. "Such a foolish girl."
Megan's anger blazed in spite of herself.
"This 'foolish girl' as you call her was able to sail to Barbados by herself, make a living and marry a man she loves. She has a beautiful daughter and from what I understand, John Wolfe is wealthy in his own right. So leave her alone, Father. Try to make peace with her for the short while she is here. She's leaving a few days after the ball."
Lord Conaway sighed. "You do have a valid point, Megan. Agreed. No good can come of keeping ill feelings fueled. So, yes, I will for the sake of the Conaway name, put this aside."

Honour stood by the fire, holding her daughter desperately close to her. Trembling, she wiped the tear from her eye before it landed on Zara.
"Why now, Zara? Why did he have to come home NOW?'

Lord Conaway and Megan had no sooner entered the room when the sound of male laughter and noisy footsteps were heard in the mud room.

Megan was relieved. Honour was filled with trepidation.
"I do believe the gentlemen of this house have arrived home."
Lord Conaway gave a slight smile. "And I would say it is time I met my son-in-law."

[The Doctor]

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...”

[The Doctor]

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.

[The Doctor]

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.”

[Honour Bright]

Dessert was brought to the table and everyone quietly ate. Honour slipped her hand under the table and ran her hand up and down Jack's leg. The table jumped.
"Something the matter with your leg, John? A cramp?" Lord Conaway said.
Jack tried to keep his mind on his dessert. "Just something that comes up now and then."
Honour mouthed to Megan, "More now than then."
She then put on a very innocent face, continuing to run her fingers up and down. Jack concentrated on his dessert even more. Honour continued to eat her dessert and then picked up an apple slice and sucked the juices off it.
Megan coughed and choked. Daffyd pounded her on the back as Megan tried to regain her composure.
Lord Conaway raised his eyebrow. "Are you alright, Megan?"
Her eyes watered as she tried to stop coughing. "No, I'm fine."
Daffyd and Jack rolled their eyes and shook their heads, both thinking the same thing.
'Those Conaway sisters....'

Honour and Megan continued to give each other looks and mouthed comments that made each other giggle. Jack was beginning to see a side of his wife that he never knew---and he liked.
Lord Rhodri Conaway looked from one to the other with disapproval.
"I suggest we take our brandy into the study, gentlemen. I would like to get to know my son-in-law more."

Jack stood up, grabbing Honour's hand. "Another time, perhaps, Lord Conaway. I think it is time my wife gets to bed. She's had a long day and Zara does keep her going."
"So does Jack," Megan whispered to Daffyd. Unfortunately as he took a sip of brandy and it went down the wrong pipe."
Lord Conaway frowned. "What is WRONG with this family? Did we not learn the proper way to eat and drink?"
Daffyd reached for his water. "I'm sorry, Rhodri. The brandy went down the wrong way."
Jack put his arm around Honour and said, "Then we shall bid you goodnight."
Honour said, "We can finish up the decorating tomorrow, Megan. After all, we only have two days left."
Megan smiled at her sister lovingly. "Thank you for all your help, Rhiannon. Please enjoy your evening."
Honour returned with a twinkle in her eye, "That I certainly shall."

Daffyd said, "Thank you for a tour of the port, John. I can't wait to see your ship once she's made berth!"
To this Lord Conaway said, "You have a ship, John?"
Jack said modestly, "Well, yes, I do. She's a variation on a Spanish-built frigate. Thirty-six guns, and swift as the wind. She's a ship that I've invested heavily in. As I hinted, I do have a hand in commerce."
"Really! But she sounds more like a war ship than a freighter." Lord Conaway was clearly impressed, but dubious.
"One can never be too careful, Rhodri. Not with the proliferation of pirates these days. But if you don't mind, Lord Conaway, I am looking forward to spending time with my lovely wife. After all, I haven't seen her since this morning."

Honour gave Jack a radiant smile and the two walked out of the dining room arm-in-arm. The sound of whispering and Honour's soft laugh was heard in the dining room.

"Are they always like that?" Lord Conaway said sourly.
"Pretty much. Daffyd, dear, would you please pass me the cream?"
"Why, certainly, my darling. And then perhaps we should retire early as well?"
Megan gave him a teasing smile. "I do think that is a good idea."
Lord Conaway rolled his eyes and shook his head.
Those Conaway girls.....

[Honour Bright]

Honour had thrown her clothes over the screen.
"So, what is this story about blueberries you said you would tell me later?"
Jack stretched out on the bed, his hands folded behind his head.
"Do you believe that people are destined to be together, Honour?"
Her head peeked out over the screen.
"I hadn't really thought about it."
Her head disappeared again as her skirt was flung over the screen, landing on the floor.
"I need to tell you something that just came to my mind. Ready for a bed-time story?"
Her laughter was heard from behind the screen. "In a minute. Just having a hard time getting out of these lacings."
"I would be more than happy to oblige, you know."
"I'll be out in a moment. Meanwhile, would you check on Zara?"

Jack opened the door to Zara's nursery. The child was wrapped up in her pink blanket, the bunny Jack had given her she had under her arm, her head resting on its ears. Jack smiled and brushed her hair back, then gently took her thumb out of her mouth. Zara frowned a bit in her sleep but then relaxed and continued to sleep.

Honour came out from behind the screen, wrapped in a silk dressing gown and brushing her hair. She sat down on the bed, Jack taking the brush out of her hand and he started to brush her hair.
"Mmmm....that feels wonderful. Now tell me the bedtime story!"

Jack intoned, "Once upon a time...."
She groaned. "I thought this was a for real story."
"It is. Alright, I'll start over again. The first ship I sailed on was docked in a coastal town in Wales. And I met someone."
Honour felt a twinge of jealousy. "And this someone....did she become important in your life?"
Jack nodded soberly, "Yes, she did. In fact, she was all I could ever hope for."
"And why are you telling me this?" she asked tightly.
"Because it is something I feel I need to confess to you."
"You fell in love with her."
"Yes, I did. But not right away. Will you stop asking so many questions? I need to get this off my chest, darling."
"And this is the bedtime story that I am supposed to wrap myself in? I'm sorry if I don't get a warm and fuzzy feeling about it, Jack."
Jack sighed and brushed her hair gently.
"She was the most fascinating creature I had ever seen. Long blonde hair and big blue eyes."
"Following a pattern here, Jack?"
He shrugged. "Maybe. The ship was the Laura Ann."
Honour sat there quietly. "Mmm hmmm...."
And the lovely girl had a dog with her---"
"I'll bet he was nothing like Muir."
"---and I'll never forget what she said to me."
"I love you?"
Jack chuckled, "No. She kept emphasizing that she was old enough."
"And you were worried she was underaged. Jack, why do you feel the need to ruin this evening with your true confessions of your past infidelities?"
He laughed, "Hardly can be called an infidelity when it all happened before I met you. In a matter of speaking. And you know what she was eating?"
"Curds and whey...how would I know?"
"She was eating blueberries."
"Lots of blueberry patches up here."
"Ah, but there is one thing she said that stopped me from pursuing the relationship further. She was six years old."
Honour stopped suddenly.
Jack continued, "Her last words to me were, 'I'm not allowed to talk to strangers let alone tell them my name. But my name is Rhiannon.'

She turned to look at him, her mouth a perfect O.
"Oddly enough, her dog was named Muir."
Honour finally found her words. "You mean...you mean...."
Jack couldn't stop laughing. "I was the sailor who showed you the Laura Ann."
She murmured, "It was the night before I was shipped off to the Order of St Brigid."
"You were charming and precocious as can be."
She started to laugh. "And you remembered me after all that time?"
Jack nodded. "You were such a sight. Hair tangled and blueberry stains all over your dress and hands. You told me you took your father's stallion out and were being sent away. And meeting your father, it becomes all too clear to me now. But you were positively adorable!"

She shook her head. "After all those years.....I guess you could say we found each other again."
"Again? My darling, we were never lost to each other. Just parted by circumstances."
"Did you ever think about me?"
"Honour! You were six years old! I only remembered the story when Megan mentioned you used to hang around the docks and talk to sailors. Why Muir never connected me to the events, I'll never know."
"Muir never forgets anyone. That was why he was so accomodating when we got married."
"And so it solves one more piece of the puzzle."
"And that is....?"
"I wondered why Muir never bit me in the arse!"

[Honour Bright]

Jack laid the hairbrush down and moved to massage Honour's shoulders.
"Mmmm..Jack, that feels wonderful. I never realized how hard carrying Zara around could be on a person's back."
"No, this isn't muscle strain, love. This is good old fashioned stress. Stress in the form of Lord Rhodri Conaway."
"I can't disagree with you. When do you expect El Lobo to be back in port?"
"Briggs is due back next week with the swag unloaded in Amsterdam and then we shall be heading back. One stop in the Canary Islands and then we are homeward bound. Wherever that may be."
"To our plantation, of course."
"Honour, you never did tell me what it is like."

He leaned to kiss her ear and whispered, "The land. I want to know what you spent my money on."
She held her finger up. "OUR money!"
"Alright, OUR money. Tell me about it."

"Jack, you will love it! The house has a verandah wrapped around it and the entrance has six Grecian columns. There is an upstairs balcony. And the stairs are red brick. A huge massive oak door."
"Sounds impressive!"
"Oh, it is. I saw this house and fell in love with it. There is a marble staircase that splits in two. And French doors that open out to a brick patio and a view of the ocean. The owner left his mahogany table and sixteen matching chairs. And a beautiful cut-glass chandelier from Murano. The kitchen is detached from the house, of course. There is a brick walkway with a pergola covered with grapevines so we can make our own wine, too. And the gardens are covered with exotic flowers. The perfume in the air at night is divine!"

He kissed her shoulder and she leaned back into him, closing her eyes.
"What is the bedroom like?" he whispered.
Her eyes flew open and she smacked his hand on her shoulder.
"Jack, you are so bad! There is a massive four poster bed with mosquito netting that was left behind. I gave the owner a bit extra for some furnishings. The coverlet is down-filled and the curtains are lace. The balcony looks out over the ocean too."
He murmured, "Just like our room in Castara," as he kissed her neck. "And how many bedrooms?"
"Hmmm? Oh...oh, six, I think. The overseer and his wife have been taking care of it for me."
"You, madame?"
"Well, at the time it was ME. Now it is US."
"And Zara's room?"
"There is an antique cradle there in the alcove. But she can have her own room."
'There really is five hundred acres?"
"Give or take a few."
"Outbuildings?"
"Sugar mill right there and storage buildings.Two barns and a ten-stall stable. Some slave cabins that I want to refinish and rent them out inexpensively to the laborers. No slaves, Jack. That is non-negotiable. I won't have it."
"Agreed."
He moved his hands around her waist and reached up to untie the gown.
It fell away with one soft swish.
She touched his hand gently and said softly, "Jack Wolfe, sometimes I think you take my breath away."
He kissed her neck in that one spot.
"And the rest of the time, I know you do."

[The Doctor]

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.”

[Honour Bright]

"Good morning, Megan!"
"Well, good morning to you, too!"
"Have we lots to do today? The ball is tomorrow night."
Megan looked around. "Any cleaner and this place could be Westminster Abbey. No, dear, we just need the last minute decorations and the candles placed around the room. And the dais over there is where the musicians will play."
"You think of everything."
Megan smiled, "Well, this winter ball is a tradition started by Daffyd's grandmother so who am I to break tradition?"
Honour hummed while she placed candles in the candleholders.
"And what has you in such a fine mood, sister dear?"

Honour stopped and said, "What? Oh..well..I got a good night's sleep."
"Oh, is that what we are calling it now?"
Honour retorted, "I tend to see a glow on YOUR face too, Megan."
She laughed, "Well, I dare say even with Father under the roof, we both managed to have a bit of romance, didn't we?"
Honour looked in the mirror. "I didn't think it showed. I mean, I had heard it but never really looked."
"Where is Jack now?"
"He is up in the room gathering some nautical charts and maps to show Daffyd. Zara is with Nanny Greyson."
"So it is time for the sisters to garner a bit of time for themselves. Let's put our feet up and enjoy our tea and scones before we undertake the final touches on the room."

Honour dipped her scone into the clotted cream.
"I must say, Megan, that this is what I really miss in Barbados. Fresh cream from the contented cows of the English countryside!"
Megan hesitated. "Rhiannon, have you ever considered telling Jack about...you know...Madoc and the whole unfortunate incident?"
Honour put her teacup down and shook her head. "What purpose would it serve, Megan? I can't tell Jack about Madoc. And that 'unfortunate incident' you refer to happened to be one of Jack's best friends."
Megan's jaw dropped. Honour said quietly, "Yes, well....I don't know the whole story. But when we were in Castara he told me how Rhys died. Run through by a jealous husband. Megan, how could I possibly tell him the truth after that?"
Megan hesitated. "Did Jack ever wonder about...you know..the other men in your life? Surely he must have know that you had a lover before he came along."

She carefully placed her teacup back in the saucer. "We never discussed it. We respect each other's privacy on our past....encounters. Jack was not a choirboy, Megan. Not by a long shot. It's what he does now that concerns me, not his past."
"I understand."

Megan hesitated. "Have the nightmares stopped, Rhiannon?"
"For the most part."
"Have you had any since you have been here?"
She nodded. "Twice now. Jack doesn't quite know what to think. He suggested I talk to a priest or someone."
"There is always that Father Simon you told me about. The one you met in Caernarvon. Do you want to see him?"
"No. Megan, I--I didn't go see Taffy Farmington that day. I went to Castlemaine."
"You---WHAT?"
"I went to the manor. I had to confront what happened that night. I needed closure, Megan. I had to confront what happened there and put the ghosts of the past to rest. It is the only way I can move forward."
"Did it help?"
"I think so. Megan, last night I had never been closer to Jack. I don't mean in the physical sense...obviously Zara proves THAT!"
Megan laughed. "I figured as much."
Honour smiled. "Jack makes me happy. For the first time in a long time, I am happy. Complete."
"Didn't Rhys make you happy?"
Honour took a sip of her tea and her face became thoughtful.
"Yes. But not in the way Jack makes me feel. And not because of Zara. Rhys belonged to another girl. One with youthful and dreamy ideals. But that girl 'died' when she was palmed off with a handshake and a fare-thee-well to Madoc Castlemaine. That old Vinegar-Veins never understood. All he was about was control."
"Did he ever--strike you, Rhiannon?"
"Not in the sense you think. He did beat me once. He was cruel. I had bruises to prove it. A grab here, a pinch there..."
"And he tried to keep you from us."
Honour nodded. "But he never counted on a young girl who decided she wanted more out of life."
"Do you think of Rhys much?"
"How could I not, Megan? I was a party to what happened to him. But I can't undo the past. Did I love Rhys? Yes, I did. Rhiannon Conaway loved Rhys Morgan."
"And now?"

"Megan, do you remember the story Parry used to tell us? The one about the Phoenix?"
"Vaguely. You were always more interested in his stories than I was."
"Only so I could trick him and run off with a horse to pick blueberries. But the Phoenix was a legendary bird that would set itself on fire and rise from the ashes every five hundred years."
"And?"
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I was like that bird. When Rhys was murdered and died in my arms, Rhiannon Conaway died too. And from those ashes, a new person arose."
"Honour Bright."

"Yes. Honour Bright became the woman you see today. Megan, I don't quite know how to explain it. It wasn't like an epiphany, It was a slow, painful rise."
"And you found it in Barbados when you married Jack Wolfe."
Honour shook her head. "No, it came later. I think it was when Jack and I put down the mutiny when we were out to sea in December. We both saw a side of each other we didn't know was there. Lord knows I tried to fight it. And I think Jack did too. But love conquered all."
She put down her teacup again.
"This is getting way too sentimental for me, Megan."
"The trait of the Welsh, my dear. You can't fight it."
"I'll always think of Rhys, Megan. How could I not? But I deserve happiness. And I found it."

Megan walked over to her front window and gazed out at the new-fallen snow. A part of her longed to tell her sister what the rumours in the shire were. But as Rhiannon had said, she deserved happiness. Daffyd had said, 'Let sleeping dogs lie.'
The annoying little voice that seemed to belong to the Conaways whispered in Megan's ear, 'But doesn't she deserve a guilt-free life too?'
To the little voice, Megan said, 'Shut up!"
"I beg your pardon, Megan?"
She smiled at her sister and said brightly, "Nothing. Now....shall we put the finishing touches on the ballroom?"
"Let's do! I can't wait till the ball!"
Megan gave her sister a hug. "And you can come down the stairs on the arm of your husband. The undead one."
"The one that makes me happy."
Megan gave her a hug. "And I am happy they are the same person! Now, shall we put the silver trays here...or there?"