El Lobo Del Mar

[Honour Bright]

Honour gazed around the room. It was simply furnished with a brass bed and a chest of drawers. A writing table stood in the corner with a candlestick and holder. Very sparse. She sighed.

'Not exactly the room we had in Castara Bay....I guess Jack forgot a woman is used to some of the niceties of life.'

Bascomb and his men had delivered the trunks and Honour shook out a dress of rose pink. She stepped out of the dress she had on and filled a basin of water from the pitcher. As she looked in the mirror, she was startled at the face reflected back. Her face was drawn and there were shadows under her eyes.

'Just a rough week', she thought. 'I'm exhausted.'

She thought how nice it would be to get into a decent dress and sit down to a table that wasn't rocking. Brushing her hair and letting it loose, she stepped into the dress and laced up a pair of boots. She looked in the trunk and saw something buried deep but the corner was peeking out.

It was a lavender lace shawl.

The gift left behind for her from Cade Jennings.

She descended the stairs and walked into the tavern. Cade Jennings was sitting in a table in the back. He quickly rose when she walked into the room.

Pulling the chair out, he said, "I'm so pleased you could join me, Honour."

She gave him a smile. "It feels so good to be on dry land."

"I see you found my present to you before you left."

She touched it and said softly, "It is beautiful."

"As is the woman that wears it."

She could feel the colour rising in her cheeks.

"What would you like?" Cade asked.

"If you don't mind, I'll forego the ale and have a small glass of wine."

Cade signalled for the barkeep and gave him their order.

"Now...what happened?"

Honour related how Jack was quite agitated before they left the port of Castara Bay. How he seemed to relax once the port was behind them.

Relaxed...until the Mercedes came into the spy glass and all hell broke loose.

The maneuvering of El Lobo.

The battle.

The sniper and Jack falling to the deck.

She caught her breath as she related how she had to dig the musketball out of Jack's shoulder.

"Cade, I was never so nervous in my life. Dr. Gander said I did an excellent job and that I saved his life with my make-shift medical skills. Jack guided me through it until he became unconscious."

Cade took her hand and said solemnly, "Honour, you are quite a woman. Most wives would fold up at seeing her husband felled right in front of them."

She blushed slightly and looked down.

"I did what I had to do to keep my husband alive."

Cade felt his heart drop a little at the words 'my husband'. How much easier it was to think of them as 'Honour' and 'Jack' instead of husband and wife.

He cleared his throat.

"And how is Jack recuperating?"

Honour grew quiet and then picked her words carefully.

"Dr. Gander kept him in the infirmary and dosed him with morphine because Jack was still in shock. He was trying to run the ship yet he was as weak as a kitten. Duckie said he needed to rest and replenish his blood loss."

"Makes sense. Jack has always thought himself invincible as long as I have known him."

She shook her head. "It--it's something else. I almost think that he wanted to be there. Like he didn't want to be near me. He's been curt and irritated with me and we haven't...we haven't.... my God ,Cade, we have only been married for three weeks!" she blurted out.

She didn't need to finish the thought.

No boots under her bed there, Cade thought.

Cade took her hand in his.

Don't worry, Honour. I'll be here for you. And for Jack."

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

Bascomb and a crewmate named Teague entered the tavern of the White Hart. As was the habit of pyrates, they quickly scanned the tavern and tallied numbers mentally.

Teague nodded in the direction towards the back. "Look'ee there!"

Bascomb looked to see Honour and Cade in earnest conversation, holding hands. Bascomb narrowed his eyes. "Dinna waste any time, did she?"

"You gonna tell the Captain?"

"Not me. You know how he is. He'll string up the bearer of bad news."

Teague shrugged, "T'will all come out eventually anyways...."

Cade pulled the chair out for Honour.

"Thank you, Cade. The stew and bread were delicious."

He took her shawl and wrapped it around her, like a mother would her child.

"Can't have you out in the breeze. For June it is a bit windy."

She felt her face get a bit warm at the concern that Cade was showing her. Jack never really did. Jack was all enthusiasm.

"Would you care to go for a bit of a stroll, Honour?"

She thought for a moment and then broke out in a smile. "I'd love to. I lived in St Lawrence but never did get over to Bridgetown."

He offered her his arm and she gently placed her hand on his arm.

As they passed by, Cade nodded to Bascomb and Teague.

Teague shook his head, "T'ain't right. T'ain't right at all."

Bascomb lit his pipe. "Not much ye can do 'bout it. Everyone knows ye dinna mess wit' what belong to th' captain."

"When he sees Jennings, his life ain't worth the powder to blow him away. Where you suspect Mad Jack be anyways?"

Bascomb took the pipe out of his mouth and pointed it towards the town.

"Cap'n always pays a visit to 'is Bridgetown lady."

"Cap'n got a lady in town?"

Bascomb chuckled. "Well, not a lady per se."

"But Cap'n is a married man now. Got a right bonnie bride now. An' young."

Bascomb shrugged. "Ol' habits die hard."

They both looked at each other and burst out laughing.

[The Doctor]

Jack emerged from the shipyard after a gruelling marathon of haggling over repairs needed to make his ship whole again. The heavy sky matched his mood, knowing now that he would be shackled to dry land for nearly a full month. Longer still, should Honour have her way. He decided to avoid the bustle of Broad Street and opted for the more circuitous route through side streets and alleyways back to the inn. The grey overcast muted everything into a monotone palette and seemed to blur everything together in his preoccupied mind. He paused at the end of an alley as a carriage rolled past, when he saw a familiar house just down the lane. It was painted gaily, in colours that made it stand out a bit from the surrounding houses. A smile managed to find its way into his face. Jack knew the house well. It belonged to Renée de Bertrand, or Madame Renée as she was known to the women who resided at her “boarding house”. He couldn't see any harm in dropping by to visit an old friend long as he was in the neighbourhood. She was bound to find out about his marriage from some wag. Might as well be him, he decided.

There were two doors on the front of the house; one unpainted, with a plain brass handle, and another trimmed with red paint, with an ornate brass knocker and no exterior handle. He went to the second door and rapped three times, paused, once, paused again, then twice more. After a few moments the door opened just a little, preventing him from seeing who was on the other side. It was Renée's custom to keep a couple of burly lads on hand to manage unruly clientèle and nosey outsiders.

“Yes, hallo? Is Madame de Bertrand about? Tell her there's a Jack Wolfe at her door-”

He had barely finished the pun when the door swung open. Two hands grabbed him by the collar of his waistcoat and puled him inside. He found himself pinned against the wall of a narrow hallway. Before he could protest the rough treatment, his assailant pressed her warm, soft lips hungrily against his. Ordinarily he would have gladly gone wherever such a cordial greeting led, but the pain in his shoulder and an uncharacteristic flash of conscience conspired to leave him more startled than enthused.

“Owwww...” he managed to say around her insistent kiss

The raven-haired girl broke their embrace, her brilliant blue eyes were still full of fire.

“I'm sorry. Did I bite you?” she asked in a heavy whisper.

“No, my shoulder,” Jack began.

“Silly man. I was nowhere near your shoulder... yet,” she cooed.

“Angelique, darling, I'm here strictly on a social call. Now, where's Renée?”

The pretty girl gave him an exaggerated pout. “Oh, fine then. But you owe me!”

She grabbed two great handfuls of skirt and stomped off down the hall, Jack following in her wake. He stopped at the main parlour and helped himself to the house's fine selection of liquor while he waited. He'd settled comfortably onto a velvet covered Roman couch when Renée appeared at the doorway.

She was a striking woman with long auburn hair and a disarming smile. She wore a heavily embroidered purple dress, and a necklace of pearls adorned her neck.

“Jackie Wolfe, as I live and breathe!” she said happily. “I thought you'd still be down in Castara...” Her voice trailed off when she noticed his drawn and dishevelled state. “Oh, dear God. What happened to you? You're a bloody wreck!”

“Mendoza,” said Jack. “Among other things.”

She fetched a glass and set it down on the table in from of him. “Pour and talk. I hope you finally bagged that sodding bastard.”

“I do, too.”

“What?! You didn't hang about and finish him?”

Jack finished off his glass and poured another. “He was crippled and burning when we broke off. We had troubles enough of our own to even think of risking a boarding action.”

“Trouble,” Renée said thoughtfully. If I had a penny for every time I've heard a man use that word when his wife is involved.”

Jack nearly choked on his drink. “Who told you?”

“Oh, please, Jackie,” she laughed. “A whisper's as good as a shout on this island. And getting married in the street isn't exactly low profile. Bound to get tongues wagging, even if you weren't the great Captain Wolfe. I take it that bit of news was the reason for this social call, not just to tell me you nearly got your precious ship shot out from under you? Or are you going to tell me what's really got you lower than a well digger's arse?”

He stared into his glass as he swirled the dark liquid around and around. “The Lobo will be in the yards for nearly a full month.”

“So what?” she asked bluntly. “Keep yourself busy. It's not the first time you've been landlocked for a spell. At least this time you've got that pretty young bride to take your mind off things. Her belly will be swelled up in no time, knowing you. Daddy.” She capped her friendly jab with a sly wink, but Jack wasn't laughing.

“Yes, well...” he said haltingly. “Honour- that's her name- has her mind...”

“'Honour'?”

“Yeah. Honour Bright.”

“What the hell kind of name is 'Honour Bright'?”

“Welsh?”

“I rather doubt it,” she scoffed. “Sounds like an alias to me. You can't be too careful of anyone going under an alias.”

“This, coming from Pip Woolston of Cornwall? Sage advice,” he quipped.

Renée stuck her tongue out. “Your bright idea, don't forget. Mister 'You can't run a proper whorehouse with a farm girl's name'. Go on, finish your thought.”

Jack sighed heavily. “We've talked about buying a plantation here on Barbados. He paused to drain his glass. “About me quitting the Trade once and for all.”

“Oooh, landed gentry! Jack Wolfe, gentleman farmer and pillar of the community. It's got a ring to it, it does.”

“I thought you'd be a bit more surprised as all that,” he said glumly.

Renée laughed. “Rubbish! It's not anything you haven't daydreamed about for the past two years. Although this has to be the most sober you've been talking about it. So where's the problem? The daydream's about to come true, and you can't seem to get the salt water out of your veins?”

“If you're intent on engaging in gross oversimplification, yes. Something like that, I suppose.”

“Oh, Jackie. Stop and think things through, would you, you silly git? What if all this is the opportunity you've been waiting for? No more looking over your shoulder. No more running. You've settled your score with Mendoza, and narrowly escaped with your ship and sorry hide largely intact. You've got a wife and the means for a fresh start. Do you realize the number of folk who'd give their right arm for the chance you've been handed?”

Jack shifted uneasily in his seat. “That's your advice, then? Chuck it all, trade in my ship for sugar cane fields and my crew for a house full of mewling children?” He took the bottle to pour more liquor for himself, but this time Renée put her hand over his glass.

“I'm saying it's time for you to grow up and do right by... what's her name again?”

“Honour.”

“I'll never get used to that one. Anyway, you've got responsibilities and obligations now. Ones that mean something. Most of all, you've got a real chance, Jackie! Call in your favours with that preening windbag Culley for a full pardon and be done with it."

Jack sat back and thought for a few moments. Once again, Renée was right. It didn't make accepting the truth of it any easier, but he couldn't argue her logic. Such decisions weren't just about him any more. Honour had equal shares and equal stakes in the enterprise.

“You have a damnably annoying habit of pointing out my shortcomings, love,” he finally admitted.

"Thank goodness none of them are physical,” she said with a wink. “As your friend, I want to see you happy. As your business partner, I need you to have a clear head about you. Speaking of partners, where's Ducks? Usually he's the one stuck pounding some sense into your thick skull.”

“We had a falling out, I'm afraid,” he said sheepishly.

”That's my Jackie,” she said with a roll of her emerald eyes. “Why burn one bridge where two or three are just as easy? Go. Go back the White Hart, heal up that shoulder, and start mending fences. That alone should keep you busy for the next month. Oh, and before I forget again, I came across something you might be interested in.”

She crossed to a small writing desk and retrieved a folded, wax-sealed piece of paper. She looked at it for a moment, then handed it to Jack.

“What's this?” he asked.

“A bit of information you've been looking for. Go on, open it up! You're lucky enough I found it, I'll be damned if I'll read it to you as well,” she said slyly.

He broke open the seal and read the words on the page.

Prof. Armand LaFourche

43 Rue Bacas

St. Pierre, Île Martinique

He stared at the page in disbelief. “How did you find him? I've been trying for nearly a year!”

“A dealer in antiquities stopped in about two weeks ago. The girls knew you've been after this professor bloke, and Annie managed to get him chatting after a few well placed, um, questions. I hope it turns out useful for you. Seems LaFourche's search for whatever it is that piqued your interest drove him right off his nut. He's under the care of his young daughter, Ceily. If he's really gone all loony, you two should get along famously.”

“I'd imagine the good fellow's not using his journal any more,” mused Jack. “Someone really should take up his research, all in the name of science of course.”

Renée chuckled. “The science of filling your purse, more like it. And what a grand cause it is.”

He folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket. “Much obliged, Renée. I'll be holding onto this for a rainy day. After I mend those fences.”

“Well, I'll be damned,” she said. “You really do love her! The Jackie I know would be out the door and on his way without a second thought.”

“Keep it between us, love. I've got a reputation to think of.” He rose from the couch and put on his hat. “Thanks for setting me straight, Renée. You've lifted my spirits yet again.”

“A swift kick is what you needed,” she laughed. “I'd be lifting more that your spirits, darling, but you're a married man now. Now get out of here and convince that wife of yours that you haven't really turned into some horrid troll.”

They exchanged smiles and he turned to leave. “Oh, Jackie? I'm curious,” she said hesitantly. “How did our Bonita take meeting the lovely missus?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “As well as one might expect, I suppose.” With that, he patted his pocket and with a wink, departed.

The colour drained from Renée's face. “Oh, that's not good.”

[Honour Bright]

"And over there is the Governor's house." Cade pointed to a large colonial house. "I've heard he has a very well-kept library."

Honour looked over at the house. "And so near the center of town, too."

She looked down the lane. "And what house is that with the two doors?"

Cade shifted a bit, his face taking on a bit of a blush. "That's Madame Renee's. She runs a 'boarding house'. She's a good sort and contributes alot to the local economy."

"Why the two doors?"

"Well, one is for the townsfolk and respectable business and the red one is for...visitors."

"Oh." She said quietly. "St Lawrence had them too over by the dock but they didn't mind if you used the same door."

"Well, one of her business partners suggested it. Would you like to stop for a light refreshment? I know a place over on Broad Street."

Cade was busy telling her about the goldsmiths and jewelry-makers in port to notice Honour's gaze back at the house of Madame Renee's.

It was then that she saw a familiar tricorn hat at the red door. With an even more familiar face under it. She watched as a beautiful woman with long auburn hair touch the man's face and give him a kiss. The man patted his pocket and took the woman's hand and kissed it.

Then he ran down the steps and leaped over the gate, a jaunty step to his walk.

Yes, she'd know that tricorn anywhere.

Because under it was her husband.

She felt light-headed and Cade turned his attention to her.

"...and they specialize in Brittania silver with gems as big as..HONOUR! Are you alright?"

For a brief second, Cade thought he saw despair in her eyes but as quickly as he thought it was there, her blue eyes reflected a steely look.

"I'm sorry, Cade. I think it was just a momentary feeling of light-headedness. It comes and goes."

"Shall we sit down?"

She glanced back to the retreating form of Jack.

She drew the lavender shawl closer to her and took Cade's arm in hers. "I'd like that. And a cup of tea would be wonderful."

Cade and Honour spent the afternoon in the bazaar where Cade showed her the merchants. They watched a goldsmith melt down ore and they stopped to observe a glassblower fashion a vase. There was merchandise from all over the world. Before they knew it, the sun was starting to dip down in the sky.

"I'm sorry to have monopolized your time, Honour. The afternoon just slipped away."

She leaned on his arm, looking up at him with her blue eyes and tossed her blonde hair.

"I'm not sorry, Cade. I can't remember when I have enjoyed the afternoon so much."

She had put her arm through his and for all appearances, they were a couple.

He felt a warmth flood through him, totally ignoring the voice inside him that was saying, 'You stupid lout! That is your best friend's wife....'

He walked her to the tavern door. "Best allow me to walk you to your room, Honour."

She shook her head. "No, it won't do for you to be seen in my hallway. I am sure Jack is up there by now. I'll perhaps see you on the morrow?"

Cade tipped his hat to her. "You can count on it."

Honour drew him close to her in the shadows and reached up, drawing his face towards her. For a brief moment, they looked into each other's eyes. Cade couldn't be sure but did he see a glimmer of hurt in her eyes?

She closed her eyes and parted her lips. Cade was drawn like a moth to a flame. He touched her hair as he drew her face closer to him. The kiss was like a spark catching fire. When they parted, he saw a touch of a blush on her face as she whispered, "Goodnight, Cade."

And she turned towards the stairs.

Cade stood there watching her ascend and then went out the tavern door.

Teague turned to Bascomb and said in a hushed voice, "If I dinna see it wi' me own eyes, I'da not believed it."

Bascomb shook his head. "The new Missus Wolfe an' Cade Jennings? Lord ha' mercy, Mad Jack will kill 'em both!"

Teague replied, " 'e ain't gonna hear it from me. Whatcha goin' ter do, Bascomb?'

Bascomb's eyes turned flinty. "Take it to Briggs and let him deal with it."

They went back to their ales.

Honour stopped at the top of the stairs and counted two doors down. She fumbled in her purse for the key when she heard a strange noise from the room. It sounded like someone playing a..violin? And not just any tune. But a gypsy tune. It can't be Jack..he doesn't know how to play a violin.

As she put the key in the lock, she heard the music stop. Opening up the door, she saw her husband sitting there on the bed taking his boots off.

"Ah, there you are! I was about to start searching the vendors for you. Where were you?"

She hung up her lavender shawl, touching the fringe and not daring to look him in the face.

"I was out seeing the sites. And yes, visiting the merchants."

"By yourself?"

"Yes. By myself." She hid her face to conceal the blush.

"Jack, I heard music from this room."

Jack shrugged, "Must be from the tavern across the street."

"But...it came from here."

"You're mistaken, Honour. What would I be doing with a violin?"

"Who said it was a violin?"

Jack grew quiet. "I just assumed it was. Guess I heard it too and never paid heed to it."

He put his arms around her and kissed her. She felt herself holding herself at a distance. How could she confront him on where he had been? He would just lie to her...

He unlaced her and her dress fell in a silken puddle on the floor.

That night, as he laid next to her sleeping, she fought back tears. It seemed the tenderness was gone when they made love. Made love? More like Jack had used her. She vowed she would never let Jack Wolfe know how he hurt her. Married three weeks and he was already up to his old habits. She never denied him before. Why would he have to turn to another woman?

Somehow...some way, Jack Wolfe...you'll be sorry.

She sat up and wiped a tear away from her face. 'You'll be sorry you ever used me like a common strumpet, Jack. Just you wait....'

She fought the sick feeling that came over her. She slipped out of bed and as she did, her foot bumped against something peeking out from under the bed. She bent down and pulled it out.

It was a violin.

Honour ran her hand over the instrument, it being well-worn and used. Like it had been in someone's family for a long time or had been lovingly played. She looked over at Jack sleeping soundly.

'You lied to me, Jack Wolfe. How many other lies have you told me?'

She quietly slid the violin back under the bed and laid back against the pillows.

Her stomach lurched at the fact that the man whose bed she slept in and made love with was a complete stranger to her. Was she just a commodity, someone for Jack to use? Suddenly she felt worthless.

'Some wives would just turn a blind eye to it, Jack,' she whispered. 'But not me..oh, not me. No one uses Rhiannon Conaway. Not in this lifetime or any other.'

With that, she rolled over, taking most of the covers.

'Deal with it, Jack. Just...deal with it.'

And she fell asleep.

[The Doctor]

Jack awoke to the chill of a morning breeze wafting over his skin. The sun had broken the horizon, bathing the room with a soft orange-rose glow. Unwilling to rise or, more to the point, leave his bride's side just yet, he reached to pull up the covers. He quickly discovered the reason for his chilly awakening; Honour had wrapped herself in the majority of the bed covers like a caterpillar in its cocoon. He smiled and and gently stroked her long golden hair, then tenderly kissed the nape of her neck.

Honour was already awake. She had been off and on throughout the night, her sleep plagued by suspicions of the man she called husband but now saw as a stranger. She willed herself not to shrink from his touch, the same touch that only days before could ignite her passions like summer lightning, by imagining for the most fleeting of moments that it was Cade who caressed her. Just as she had the night before.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Jack whispered. Honour pretended to stir from slumber, but did not turn to face him.

“Good morning,” she replied, trying to infuse her voice with something resembling warmth.

“How on earth am I supposed to show my appreciation for your beauty when you're wrapped up like a mummy?”

“I'm sorry, Jack,” she replied. “I've woken up with a headache.”

“Should I send Duckie round to check on you?”

“No, I'll be fine. I just want to sleep.”

He kissed her head gently and got up from the bed.

“I have some ship's business to attend to. Shouldn't be more than a couple of hours at most.”

He splashed his face with water, then set about getting dressed.

“If you're not feeling any better by the time I get back, I'm sending for Duckie. Wouldn't do to have you fall ill, now would it?”

“Oh, all right,” she sighed. “But I'll be better after I rest. Don't worry yourself.”

“Of course I'll worry about you!” he said cheerily. “I'm your husband. It's my job to worry about you.” He gave his boots a final tug and retrieved his hat from the bedpost. “Sleep tight, darling. I'll be back soon.”

So I'm a job to him, not just a commodity, Honour thought as Jack closed the door. She'd had enough. She was going to find out what he was up to once and for all. She silently counted out a full minute, then sprung from the bed and dressed hurriedly to follow him, hopefully to the truth. No matter what the result, she had to know. She quickly brushed out her hair and pulled it back into a simple braid. The last time she'd thrown herself together this quickly, she was rushing to meet Rhys after being waylaid by a talkative novitiate. If only this was as happy an occasion.

She watched out the window for Jack to emerge so she could being her pursuit. Finally, he did.

Jack strolled out of the White Hart’s front door, whistling a cheerful tune. For the first time since the battle with Mendoza, his heart was light. It had felt so good to make love with Honour once again. He felt like a fool for pushing her away, but he was now bound and determined to make up for his mistakes. Today’s business was that of atonement.

As he approached the alleyway next to the inn, he could hear a raucous conversation going on, most likely men gaming at dice. What he heard during a pause in their laughter, however, soured his mood in an instant.

“Seen it wif’ they own eyes, they did! That Jennings didn’t waste no time getting’ ‘is hooks into ol’ Jack’s wife! Stole a kiss on the stairs what was more’n just friendly, what after paradin’ ‘er about town big as you please, ‘e did! An’ she weren’t upset by it none neither, if ye get me meanin’! Looked right 'appy on 'is arm she did, like they's th' married ones!”

“Ha! That Jack gone an’ taught Cade a littl’ too well, didn’ ‘e?”

“You’re daft is what you are, the both of ya’s! Jack Wolfe, a cuckold after less than a month? Never ‘appen. Not an’ they live t’ enjoy it.”

“God’s own trufe, mate. Ask ‘em yerself an’ they’ll tell ye same as I ‘bout Jennings an’ that little trollop…”

“Who will tell us?” a voice boomed from the end of the alley. The three men turned to see a silhouetted figured walking slowly toward them. They grouped together and backed away from the advancing man. He drew his sword and quickened his pace. “Answer me, damn you!”

The men broke ranks and ran. One man became tangled in an old crate and fell to the ground. Before he could get back up, he felt the cold edge of a cutlass against his throat. Jack stared down at the prone man, his eyes like flames. “I’ll have names, or your blood. I’m not inclined to be choosy.”

“I- I don’ know! ‘e tol’ us, but I don’ remember, I swear it on me Mum’s life! Please don’ kill me, Cap’n Wolfe! I’m beggin’ ye!” the man pleaded.

“Then take this back to your friends, you miserable, feculent tosspot!” Jack growled. “The next man who so much as thinks about uttering such scandalous lies about my wife, I’ll cut their heart out and feed it to them.”

He stared into the sailor’s eyes with burning hatred until he could see that the message had taken hold. Then he stepped back from the man, turned on his heel, and returned his blade to its scabbard as he stalked back down the alley.

Honour stepped through the inn’s doorway and into the brilliant sunlight. She shielded her eyes and looked down the street in the direction she’d seen Jack walk, but he was nowhere in sight. As she began walking, she heard the heavy sound of boot heels striking the cobblestones of the alley just ahead. She knew that sound anywhere. It was Jack! Panic took her for a moment, and she turned back the way she’d come just as her husband turned the corner. A silent prayer was on her lips that he wouldn’t discover her. Thanks to his preoccupation with the rumours he’d just heard and the simple manner in which Honour had dressed that day, he never noticed her as she backtracked toward the inn. She sighed with relief as the sound of his footsteps faded down the lane. When she was confident he was far enough away, she turned around to follow. She paid little attention at first to the dishevelled soul who came from the alley as she walked past, but there was something familiar about him that made her look back. He was a crewman from the Lobo. The expression on his face left her shaken to the core. It was the look of disgust a pious man gives a common harlot.

Guilt about the time she'd shared with Cade yesterday gnawed at her as she followed Jack through the streets of Bridgetown. She knew it was wrong of her to kiss Cade, but he'd been so kind and attentive to her. He'd shown her the respect and tenderness Jack seemed to have forgotten. Her mind returned again and again to that one sweet, stolen moment. And if that kiss was so wrong, why did it feel so sensually wonderful? Why did it feel right? Besides, she asked herself, since when did Jack Wolfe give a damn about right and wrong? If he could live his life in shades of grey, so could she.

Honour quickened her pace to close the gap between them as they approached the street where Renee's “boarding house” was. She was confident he was headed back to that nest of strumpets. Her heart pounded and ached as she waited for him to turn down her street and walk up to that horrible red door. To her astonishment, he kept walking. He never so much as looked in the direction of the house. Where was he going? She'd been so certain she would catch him in an act of betrayal. Now thoroughly confused as to her husband's attention, she followed on.

After two more blocks, they entered the city's warehouse district. Low, wide buildings with only a few windows mounted well above street level lined the carriageway. Jack finally stopped at the entrance to one of the nondescript buildings, where he was joined by none other than Josiah Briggs. Honour ducked around a corner to avoid being seen, then gingerly peeked back out to continue her spying. Doubt began to cloud her thoughts as she watched the two men talk. It didn't change the fact she'd seen him waltzing out of a whorehouse the previous day. But maybe this time he'd actually told her the truth.

Finally, Jack and Briggs went into the warehouse, allowing her to creep closer so as to listen in on their conversation. She had to know if there was a shred of truth left in anything he said. The two tall,wide doors of the warehouse were left standing open. She slipped up to the entrance and flattened herself against one of them. The men's voices echoed in the cavernous building, making her goal of listening in that much easier to attain. She could hear them walking around, their conversation little more than friendly chit chat. Now and again she'd steal a glimpse of the warehouse's interior. Boxes, bundles, and barrels were stacked haphazardly in no discernible order, much like the hold of the Lobo had been. At long last, their discussion turned to something of interest to her.

“And the guilders, where are they at?” asked Jack.

“Right over here,” answered Briggs. He pulled a tarpaulin off the several large crates marked “PRINT WORKS”. “All twenty-seven chests, just as they were when we left for Castara.”

“Good. I need them re-crated. All but five. The rest are to be moved to the private storehouse on St. Michael Street. The remaining five are to be put under lock and key here.”

“Aye, it'll be done. To number 11 it is. I'm guessin' you'll want their whereabouts kept secret, as usual?”

“Absolutely. We'll be using the money from here to buy that plantation Honour and I talked about.”

She could scarcely believe her ears. He wants the plantation now? Maybe he's really had a change of heart. Maybe he was only telling Renee about their marriage, and it wasn't what it looked like...

“You're goin' through with it? Turnin' from corsair to cane farmer?”

Jack laughed. “Don't get ahead of yourself, Josiah. It's a good investment no matter how you look at it.”

“I take it ye'll be lettin' the missus know about chests we're movin' as well? A little butter and egg money, as it were?”

“No,” said Jack. “You and I are the only ones to know where they are. Honour doesn't need to know.”

Honour clamped her hand over her mouth to smother a gasp. He was hiding the money from the Dutch ship from her? The ones he's boasted about when they met? She wondered what elaborate lie he'd concoct to cover their whereabouts. Damn him! So he didn't trust her after all. Her mind offered up a myriad of reasons why he'd hide so much money from her. He'll probably use it to keep that damnable doxy in satins and lace, the bastard!

“Fair enough,” Briggs said. “It'll stay a secret. Not sayin' I agree, but I'll keep it mum.”

‘At least Briggs tries to be a voice of reason, for what good it did,’ she thought

“That'll do, Josiah. How are repairs going on the ship?”

That damned ship of his. I wish he'd get rid of it!

“Comin' along well. Seems the structural damage weren't near as bad as we'd thought. Should be ready to sail a week early!”

No...

“Excellent. I want her made as good as new, with all her teeth! Ready to sail and fight.”

Tears welled in Honour's eyes. He was going to leave her there on that island and sail off, the son of a b*tch! Probably get himself killed and leave her alone to fend for herself. She'd heard enough. Choking back tears, she fled from the warehouse district. She needed someone to talk to, someone she could trust. Why was Kate so far away when she needed her? Then it dawned on her. Duckie! He'd been quick to defend her when Jack had been so awful to her on the ship. She could trust him. She already had with her secret, and he hadn't let her down.

“Damn you, Jack Wolfe!” she sobbed. “I'm never going to let you hurt me again!”

“So you're goin' ahead with the sale?” Briggs asked.

“That's why I want her shining like a new penny, my friend. If I have to sell her, I want top price!”

“Have ye' told Honour about all this yet?”

“I want it to be a surprise for her. The sale of the Lobo, purchase of the plantation, and those chests we're moving will comprise the nest egg for the next generation of the Wolfe family,” Jack said proudly.

Briggs laughed heartily. “Hell, Jack, I never dreamed I'd see the day, but it does this old salt's heart good! You, a pappy? God help us all!”

Jack smiled, but the events of the morning were still weighing on his mind. "Josiah, I have a question, and I need you to be honest with me."

"Aye, ye know I usually am. Unless you're bein' a roarin' pain in the arse. No point in talkin' to ye then.

"When am I like that?"

"Most days what end in a 'y'," Briggs joked.

"Remind me to send you flowers next time. Seriously, though. Have you heard any troubling rumours from the men?" asked Jack.

"Ye mean outside the usual scuttlebutt?"

"Yes. Anything about myself or... or any other parties?"

"No, I haven't. Why? Have you?" Briggs asked with concern.

"I'm not certain. It was probably nothing more than idle gossip."

"Jack," said Briggs, "You and I know half these men yap just to hear their fool heads rattle. It was about Honour, wasn't it? Otherwise ye wouldn't be askin'."

Jack's jaw clenched as he remembered the slurs against his wife. "Yes. It was."

The quartermaster shook his head slowly. "She's a beautiful woman, my friend. Everyone can see the effect she's had on ye, and there are those who'll begrudge you that bit of fortune." He put a reassuring hand on Jack's shoulder. "Whatever was said, there ain't a shred of truth to it. Pay it no never mind. Come tomorrow, they'll be on to some other foolishness."

"Thank you, Josiah. I'll take your advice. My skin is usually thicker than this."

"It's worse when it's about those ye love, mate. It'll pass, believe me. Now, didn't ye say ye had some other business to tend to? You're slowin' me down with all your chatter! Turn yer rudder and shove off!"

Jack smiled at his friend, and walked off toward the shipyards.

[Honour Bright]

Honour walked quickly away from the warehouse district heading back to the inn. Her thoughts were lost in a jumble as she remembered bits and pieces of overheard conversation. The plantation...the sale of El Lobo del Mar..guilders....secrets...secrets..more secrets...

"Ooof!"

She ran into a man who caught her by the arms.

"Honour!"

"Duckie!"

"You alright?"

She looked down at the ground and shook her head. When she lifted it up, Duckie saw nothing but distress in her eyes.

"You look like you need to talk. Tell you what...I haven't had lunch and I bet you haven't either. So what do you say I pick up some bread and cheese and a bottle of wine and we go over to the grassy area over by the dock and spread a blanket down and just have a nice visit. Will that help?"

She nodded. "I'd like that."

Within a half hour, they were sitting on the ground. Duckie had his shirt sleeves rolled up and he was pouring a small glass of sherry for her.

"Now..what is on your mind, Mrs. Wolfe?"

"That is the problem."

"The sherry?"

"No. The 'Mrs. Wolfe' part."

"I don't understand."

"The more I find out about Jack, the more I realize I don't know who he is."

"Well, you DID get married in a fever, as it were."

"May I ask you a question?"

"You can ask. Don't know if I will answer."

She took a deep breath. "I heard music. Gypsy music. And it was coming from our room. I asked Jack about it and he denied hearing it. Later that night, I went to get out of bed and my foot hit something. It was a violin, old and worn, under the bed. Duckie, why would he lie to me? And what else hasn't he told me?"

Duckie sighed. "Honour, Jack Wolfe has taken alot of blows in his life. He's done things and had things done to him the average man would fold up and crumble."

"Where did he learn to play the violin?"

He cut a piece of cheese off a wheel and handed her a piece along with some fruit. "In Lorient."

"Lorient...France?"

Duckie nodded. "Before he took the Mercedes as his own and renamed her El Lobo del Mar, he sailed under Captain Will Harkness. They was dry-docked in Lorient for two months while it underwent extensive repairs. Jack, being the scholar he is, ended up talking to a gypsy..his name was Reuben--and he was the chieftain. He invited Jack back to the camp and they immediately took a liking to him. So much so that he would go to their camp every night and sit around the campfire and even eat dinner with them. Reuben taught him to play the violin.. Jack learned old gypsy tunes at the feet of Reuben. Now, Jack was only about twenty-one at this time and he was a quick learner. When it was time for Jack to ship out, Reuben--being the emotional people they are--gifted Jack with a violin that was his grandfather's. Jack has cherished it ever since."

Honour bit into an apple. "But why did he lie to me, Duckie? I would love to hear him play."

Duckie cut off a slice of bread.

"Because Jack is a private person. Ever since I have known him, he has a vulnerable side he won't show to the world. Jack IS a wolf. A wolf without a pack. He'd gnaw his foot off before he would show his hurt. And he always found solace in music. Says it helps him relax and think."

Honour stood up and brushed the crumbs from her skirt.

"Thank you, Duckie. And I'll keep this to myself."

"I'd appreciate it, my dear. I am sure in due time more of Jack will be revealed to you. He finds it hard to trust. He's been dealt a few bad hands in life."

Honour gathered her shawl and said, "I'm heading back to the inn. The last week has taken its toll on me and I'm tired. I'll see you later."

As she walked off, Duckie looked at her retreating form. If there were anyone who was the opposite of Rose, it was Honour Bright.

'Honour, don't do it. Don't break his heart. I don't know if it can take another blow...'

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

As Honour made her way to the inn where she and Jack had a room, she entered through the tavern door. Cade Jennings was having an ale with a few of his friends from El Lobo.

He caught sight of her and rushed over to her, the pleasure of seeing her undeniable on his face.

"Honour! How grand to see you! I thought you might be with--" he couldn't quite bring himself to say 'your husband'--"or shopping. Would you care for something to eat? Something to drink?"

She shook her head no. "I'm a bit tired, Cade. I'm afraid that the crossing to Barbados took more out of me than I expected it would. I'm usually of sturdier stock but the battle and all that..."

Cade touched her shawl and pulled it up around her shoulders. He said softly, "It wouldn't do for you to catch a chill, would it now?"

Her hand accidentally brushed against his. She said softly, "I'll be alright."

He brushed her hair back from her shoulder and said, "You always are a bit of alright, milady."

"Cade?"

"Yes?"

"N--never mind. I shall see you around later, perhaps?"

"I shall be here."

She started up the stairs and turned back for a second. Cade was looking at her with a look of tenderness that Honour hadn't seen on a man's face in a while. She hurried back up the stairs.

Hennessey and Dolan, the two crewmates that Cade had been sitting with, watched the exchange. Dolan nudged his mate and whispered, "Looks like maybe Bascomb and Teague weren't too far off the mark. Cade looks downright smitten."

Hennessey nodded. "Just hopin' ol' Jack gets his ship ready to sail and takes 'er out o' here and away from Jennings. I like Cade. Don't want to see him run through."

"Then let's be hopin' that it don't look like what it be lookin' to us."

Cade came back and sat down. "Did I miss anything?"

Dolan said, "Just the bleedin' obvious."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothin', Cade. Just...nothin'."

Honour closed the door to the room she shared with Jack. The bed had been made and fresh water had been filled in the pitcher.

She hung up her shawl and unlaced her bodice. She loosened the drawstring on her skirt and stepped out of it.

Filling the basin, she splashed water on her face and then laid down on the bed. Her mind was in confusion.

So many things about her husband that she didn't know.

He knew how to play the violin. Expertly. He was a student at Oxford until he had to leave as the money for education had run out. What really happened between him and Mendoza to make them mortal enemies?

She flung her arm over her eyes.

Jack planned on buying the plantation. At least he was investing something from his plunder. As his wife, she would have a roof over her head, no matter what Jack was up to.

Was he expecting her to be a patient little wife and walk the widow's walk with a spyglass waiting for her wayward husband to wander home?

Jack was an enigma wrapped in a riddle. Whatever happened in his life shaped the way he is today. She wasn't ignorant of the fact that Jack was a very sensuous man. He proved that to her. Perhaps he just went to the bordello to tell a friend that he won't be coming back.

She sighed. Duckie knew Jack in their youth. If he said Jack has a vulnerable side, then it was up to Honour to find it.

To see if she could tap into it and salvage something of their life together.

Because if she didn't...there was no hope for them.

No hope at all.

She rose from the bed and looked out over the torches that were beginning to illuminate the lanes. Jack would be back any time now.

And Honour was determined to try once more.

To salvage their life together.

But Cade Jennings' tender look came unbidden to her mind.

She quickly dismissed the thought.

Her place was with Jack.

And Jack alone.

[The Doctor]

The portly merchant picked up some coins from the table and looked at them suspiciously.

“Dutch guilders, Captain Wolfe? You'll forgive me, but I prefer to be paid in the currency of the Commonwealth.”

“You're new to the Caribbean, aren't you, Mister Archer?” asked Jack. “Money is money. It all melts down the same. If you decide to be picky, you'll find yourself starving, not that it could hurt. A handsome payment for a few days passage to Martinique is what that is, mate! Do we have a bargain?”

Archer looked down at the coins, then back to Jack.

“We cast off early tomorrow afternoon, Captain. I'll have some men come round to the White Hart for your things. She's the Aphrodite Merchant, don't forget!”

“Who could forget the goddess of beauty?” Jack replied.

He glanced out the window as Archer pocketed his money and noticed the firefly glow of lanterns beginning to dot the lane. He'd promised Honour he would be gone only a few hours, and here the day was nearly gone. He breathed a silent curse for being neglectful once again, and wondered if she was feeling any better.

“Speaking of beauties, my wife will have my head for allowing business to keep me this late!”

“We'll walk out together then,” Archer offered.

“No need, mate. In for a penny, in for a pound. I'll finish my drink before I go to face the music.”

Archer smiled cordially. “Good evening to you, Captain Wolfe. I shall see you tomorrow.”

Jack raised his glass as the merchant gave a slight bow before walking away. He settled back and thought about the day. The money that would secure his and Honour's future together was safely tucked away. The ship was scheduled for auction two weeks after the completion of her repairs. Now he stood to procure the notebook of Armand LaFourche, and try his hand at unravelling a mystery that men had been trying to decode for over 100 years. It had been an immensely satisfying day. For the first time in days, he felt like things were going his way once again.

A sailor took his drink from the bar and walked over to a table where his friends sat waiting. He had a smug look on his face, and his mates look expectantly for what he seemed to know.

“Well, spill it! You said you knew somethin' 'bout what Wolfe's been up to, talkin' to the auction house an' the like!” the first one asked.

The smug man sipped his drink and smiled.

“Captain Wolfe is goin' to Martinique. In a right hurry, from the sounds of it. Been talkin' to merchants most of the day, he has.”

“What's 'e up to? Takin' a packet like some lubber don't make sense!” said another.

“Don't know what why he's goin', but I do know this,” the smug one said with a conspiratorial air, “It's just the chance Cade Jennings would kill for right about now. And Jack Wolfe is handin' it to him.”

One of the men was so deep in his cups that he seemed likely to fall over. But one of the names roused him from his drunken stupor.

“Cade Jennings!” he exclaimed. “That bloke what's been cattin' about wif ol' Wolfe's pretty-pretty?”

His friends tried to hush him, but it was too late. Jack had overheard, but he made no outward sign that he had. A tavern girl came by with a bottle for another table, but Jack grabbed it and tossed a few coins at her. The rumours had surfaced again, and this time he was going to find out just what was being said. He pulled out a sheaf of papers and slouched down in his chair, pretending he had heard nothing.

“Nah, nah, nah! Wai' a minute! Lemme talk!” the drunken wag continued. “What I was told, that Cade's been moonin' over that, wha's her name! Yeah! Honour! Been actin' like a lovesick puppy since Castara. I hear tell they got right cozy a bit there, I did.”

“So did I! Spent every second Jack was away with her, he did! Poor stupid blighter, his own student stealin' his women out from underneath him like that!

“And I'll tell you another! With the stallion out of the barn, Jennings'll tend to that filly right an' proper if you get my meanin’! And it wouldn't be the first time, you can be sure of that!”

Jack sat listening to the men laugh and jeer at his expense, talking on and on about how everyone knew Cade was lying with his wife behind his back and had been since he had been foolish enough to introduce them. For the next half of an hour, Jack drank heavily while he brooded and listened as they laughed at him. Laughed at the blind, stupid cuckold. He'd seen how Cade looked at her. How the boy watched her every move. He'd ignored it, and why shouldn't he have? Honour was a beautiful young woman. Heads turned wherever she went.

He had taught Cade everything he knew. How to be ruthless and calculating, how to be cold and merciless in the pursuit of the prize. And now his own apprentice - his own heir! - had betrayed him. And so had his wife. Her head was turned the moment she met a younger man. Bonita was right. Honour was nothing more than a treacherous child. But what of Bonita's other accusations? Had that tavern wench truly used him for what he could lead her to, only to discard him at the first opportunity?

Anger and despair boiled in his veins. The next thing he heard pushed him to the breaking point.

“... but I never thought in all my days I'd see Jack Wolfe become a cuckold and a has been! He can't control his right hand nor his own woman!”

Jack exploded into rage. He jumped to his feet and whirled to face the men who were so gleefully slandering him and his bride, the bottle held like a club in his hand. The men fell silent at the sight of him.

“How long have you people known this?! Answer me, damn you all!!” he roared like a wounded lion. He smashed the bottle against the table and began to advance on the gossips. “Start talking, you sorry sons of whores, before I cut it out of you!!”

The men tried to back away as Jack came towards them, bumping and stumbling over furniture as they retreated from the bellowing fury. One of the men fell backwards against a table, and in moments Jack was on him. He grabbed the sailor by the throat and held the broken bottle just inches from the terrified man's face.

“How long have you known?!! Tell me while you can still speak!!” he spat.

The sailor's mouth moved, but no words came out. The hold on his throat was too tight. Out of control with rage, Jack drew back the jagged weapon to strike. But at the last moment, the bottle was knocked from his hand. The tavern keeper grabbed him in a choke hold and pulled him off the man. Jack kicked and fought like a demon, shouting obscenities and spitting death oaths as he was dragged out the door and thrown into the street like a common beggar.

He got back to his feet, his mind still churning with rage.

“You're a dead man, Jennings,” he growled, and lurched off toward the White Hart Inn.

[The Doctor]

The door of the inn flew open with the percussive force of a cannon shot. All conversation abruptly halted as the stunned patrons turned to find Jack Wolfe standing in the doorway. He strode purposefully to the center of the room, looking each person there dead in the eyes. Cade Jennings was not among them. No matter. Revenge would be exacted in time. He became increasingly aware that everyone was staring at him as he swayed drunkenly like a reed in the wind. Forcing a smile, he doffed his hat and gave a theatrical bow.

“Gentlemen, please! As you were!”

The tension was broken, and conversations resumed. With a stiffly measured gait, he strode up the stairs. He was not about to show them the jealous husband who had lost control back at the tavern. The practiced façade he wore into battle would serve him well once again. The people below hardly noticed the creak of a door as it opened, but the window rattling slam that followed could not be mistaken.

Dolan gave a low whistle. “Oh, this ain't lookin' good.”

Honour sat bolt upright in the bed, the covers clutched up around her neck.

“Jack! What on earth is the matter? You scared me half to death coming in here like that!”

She looked out the window and saw that the sun had set.

“And where have you been? You said you'd only be gone a few hours.”

Her hand was still trembling from the slamming of the door as she brushed her hair back from her face.

Jack couldn't bring himself to look at her, so he stared at the windows as he pulled off his frock coat. He tossed it on the bed and removed his baldric and sword. Honour noticed the dirt on the coat's sleeve, along with a tear near the elbow.

“Jack, your favourite coat is torn. Hadn't you noticed it?”

Her questions continued to be met with silence.

“Why won't you talk to me?” she asked in frustration.

He looked askance at her. “Why do you care if I came back at all?” he slurred. “I thought you'd be happier the longer I stay away.”

“Jack, you're not making any sense. You're drunk, aren't you? Please, get undressed and come to bed...”

“I AM DRUNK!” he erupted. “Tell me, oh wife of mine, why I should share a bed with you tonight? I can practically smell him on you.”

“Smell... what? What is wrong with you? Why are saying such terrible things?”

“Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out? The whole town's talking about Jack Wolfe, the cuckold pirate!” He turned to face her, his anger boiling to the top once again. “Parading around on his arm in front of the entire town, the two young lovers! More like the backstabbing cur and his little slut!”

“No, no, Jack! No, you were busy, and... and Cade offered to show me the sites until you returned... It's not what you think!!”

Even she could hear the note of guilt that slipped into her voice. Yes, she had thought Cade attractive and charming. Yes, she had stolen a kiss with him. And yes, she had imagined making love with him. She could feel her face turning red as hot tears welled in her eyes.

“Oh, I can imagine the things he showed you!” he went on, pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed. “How long have you two been together? Since Castara? How could you betray me like this, Honour? Why?”

The hurt in Jack’s voice tore at her.

“I haven't! Jack, I love you! I would never betray you, never! You have to believe me! Please!” she begged, tears streaming down her face. “I've been far truer to you than you have to me!!”

Her last words stopped Jack in his tracks. “Now how can that be possible?” he mocked.

Honour fought to regain her composure. Her body trembled with distress, but a wave of anger began to build within her.

“I saw you. I was on the corner when you came out of that... house,” she said, her voice becoming more and more forceful. “You didn't have the decency to accompany me to the inn before you ran off to lay with some whore! Another of your many 'friends'? Friends with benefits is more like it!” she spat sarcastically.

Honour had found her voice at last. All the frustration and mistrust, all the hurt and anger she'd so dutifully stifled over the past month came roaring forth like a spring flood.

He laughed derisively. “How dare you accuse me?”

“And how dare you, my husband?” she retorted. “My hands are clean! But you… all your promises and solemn oaths that conveniently change with the wind! I gave myself to you, body and soul! I saved your life when you were shot, and this is how you repay me? With accusations and infidelity?”

“You’ve humiliated me!! I’ve treated you with generosity and kindness up ‘til now..!”

“You’ve treated me like rubbish!! Everything’s roses when times are good, but when I need you, when I need my husband with me, you’re never there! If I have done the awful things you say, who could blame me?”

Jack’s eyes went wide with rage. He stepped menacingly toward her and drew back his hand to strike, but Honour found the courage to face him defiantly and not cower. She stared him straight in the eyes though her face was streaked with anguished tears.

“Damn you, Jack Wolfe!” she said with steely resolve, “Go ahead. Hit me. But if you do, I will walk out that door and NEVER come back!”

His hand flew up once more, but her only reaction was an almost indiscernible flinch, her eyes never leaving his. He stared at her, his face a mask of anger and heartache. Suddenly he turned and went to the writing desk. She followed him a few steps, relieved that he had not followed through with his threat. Maybe she could reason with him now, and make him understand she’d done nothing wrong…

She gasped in horror when Jack whirled and pointed his pistol at her. The combination of alcohol and adrenalin had him so unsteady that his aim wavered as if he were on the deck of a pitching ship.

“Jack, please, no! Put the gun away. This is all a terrible mistake!” she pleaded.

“The mistake was in marrying a deceitful little trollop like you! A mistake I intend to remedy here and now.”

He pulled the hammer back slowly.

“Your precious Cade will be along to join you in Hell shortly.”

Terror gripped Honour’s very core. Instinctively, she lashed out with a sweeping kick that caught Jack’s arm. The pistol flew from his hand and landed harmlessly on the floor. Enraged, he lunged at her, but she quickly sidestepped and watched as he lost his footing and stumbled head first into the wall. Her breath came in ragged, panicked gasps as she waited for him to get back to his feet. But he didn’t move. Carefully, she knelt down beside him and put her small trembling hand near his face. A small wave of relief washed over her when she felt his breath across her fingers. He wasn’t dead. But she knew it wasn’t safe to stay there. The familiar urge to flee overwhelmed her. She hurriedly dressed and left the inn, and ran down the street as fast as she could to The Horse, Hunter, and Stag.

She knew she would find safety there.

Cade would protect her.

[Honour Bright]

Honour pulled the hood of her cloak closer to her face as she approached the innkeeper of The Horse, Hunter and Stag. In a soft, halting voice she said, "I-I'd like to see Mr. Cade Jennings, if you please."

The innkeeper hesitated and said, "Don't rightly know if I should give you his room number, Missy..."

She tried to smile and said, "I'll be sure to knock first. Sir, I am not his wife or a jealous female trying to catch him with another woman."

The tavern keep saw the emerald ring on her finger and said quietly, "First door on the left at the top of the staircase."

She nodded, drew her cloak tighter around her and ascended the stairway.

Cade opened the door to her timid knock.

"Honour! What are you doing out this time of night?"

"May I come in, please?"

He looked at the tearstained face and said quickly, "By all means."

He took her cloak and saw that she was dressed in a chemise and skirt. No bodice, no corset, no stays.

She shivered. He sat her down and opened a bottle of brandy and poured a glass for her.

She drank a bit and started coughing.

"Careful, Honour."

"I'm sorry. I've been feeling a bit under the weather."

He sat down on the bed next to her and said quietly, "It has to be a problem for you to come here alone and at night too."

Honour nodded miserably. "It's all falling apart, Cade. I'm married almost a month and it's all falling to pieces."

He brushed her hair back and said soothingly, "Do you want to talk about it?"

She felt the tears well up.

"Jack accused me--us--of some vile things. He called me names. I confronted him on the fact that I saw him come out of a brothel the first day he--"

"Brothel? You saw him? When?"

"When we were walking the first day in port. He came out of that house with the two doors."

"Madame Renee's?"

"You know her?"

"Everyone knows Madame Renee."

"Cade, Jack went there for....for....."

She felt the tears coming again. He put his arm comfortingly around her. "You don't know that for a fact, Honour. He could have been visiting an old friend. He and Renee go way back."

She wiped the tears from her face. "I'm young but I am not a fool, Cade. I know what I saw."

"Honour, I can understand why you are upset but--"

"There's more. He accused me and you of...well...he accused me of infidelity."

"He WHAT?"

Honour nodded. "It gets worse, Cade. He..."

She leaned against him and began to cry.

"He pulled a gun on me and yelled, 'The mistake was in marrying a deceitful little trollop like you! A mistake I intend to remedy here and now.'

"Oh...Honour."

She could hardly talk.

"He pulled the hammer back on the pistol and then said in a deadly calm voice, “ 'Your precious Cade will be along to join you in Hell shortly.' ”

"Was he drunk?"

"Yes," she said as she felt the tears welling up in her eyes again.

"Cade, I kicked the gun out of his hand. He lunged for me but I moved and he ran headlong into the wall and was knocked out. I--I checked and he was still breathing when I left. Oh, Cade, I can't go back! He will kill me! And you!"

He held her and rocked her a bit as she cried, "No, he won't kill us. He's crazy with rum, Honour. Or whiskey. Or both."

"I can't go back. I--I can get a room here for the night or sleep in the common room here."

"Honour, all the rooms here are booked. The Ebony Heart just docked and all the crew have shore leave. A pretty little thing like you in the common room with a port full of drunken pirates who haven't seen a woman in three months? Not even an option."

"But I can't go back."

"Stay here. I can sleep in the chair."

"I can't ask that of you, Cade."

"I insist. No arguments."

She stood up and looked him in the eyes. "I can't thank you enough, Cade. For all you have done."

Cade put his hands on his shoulders and said, "Anything for you, Honour."

She looked up into his eyes. Their bodies were touching and Cade softly brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "Anything..."

Before she knew it, their eyes closed and their lips met in a kiss that was anything but casual. They broke apart, each not knowing what the other would do.

Honour whispered, "I've been accused, judged and condemned. I may as well be guilty of the crime as well."

Cade tilted her face up to meet his and whispered back, "Then we shall pay the price together."

~~~~~~~

With a start, Honour woke up. The moonlight streamed onto the bed, illuminating Cade's face as he slept next to her. His arm was flung around her as he spooned against her. She quietly slid from his arms, placing a pillow in her place.

She wrapped her cloak around her body, her chemise and skirt laying on the floor giving clues as to what had taken place. As if the man in the bed wasn't testimony enough to damn them both.

Honour stood there, a feeling of despair washing over her. Messing up once in her life was enough. The main attraction was the same, only the key players had changed.

Would Cade have the same fate as Rhys?

And what of Jack? While he was not Madoc, his fury was unmatched. Twice in one lifetime was too much for a woman to be threatened with death, this time for a crime she hadn't committed.

Until after the accusations.

She walked over to the window and looked out. A few pirates straggled out of the taverns, spilling onto the lane. So far the only one who knew she was here was the innkeeper. And he didn't even know her name.

She leaned her forehead against the mullion of the window and began to cry quietly.

Bitterly.

To herself, she whispered, 'Rhiannon...how many times are you going to mess up? How many places can you run to?'

Honour wondering how she was going to face Cade in the morning.

But much more importantly was this--how was she going to face Jack?

If he was ready to kill her and Cade over an imagined infidelity, how would he react if he ever knew that his suppositions became actualities?

'Rhiannon', she thought, 'you sure do know how arrange things. Those who don't learn from the past are doomed to repeat it. When will you learn, girl?...'When will you learn?....when will you learn?....Will I ever learn?'

She closed her eyes, knowing she would use all her wits to pull herself out of the funeral pyre.

Because Jack was holding the match.

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

In a tavern in Castara Bay, the solitary figure drew her shawl around her. The moon shone through the palmettos as she closed the door behind her. She walked towards the beach, the soft sand cushioning her footfall.

In a clearing overlooking the bay, she laid her shawl down on the ground and sat upon it. In her leather bag she withdrew what she needed. An urn filled with sea salt, a few bones and a leather box.

She very carefully laid what she needed on the flat boulder she used so many times before. Clouds raced across the moon, lending an eerie feel as if shadowy fingers embraced the orb.

She stood and sprinkled a circle of the salt around herself and the boulder. Facing east, she took the bones out of the bag and cast them on the boulder. Three bones scattered. Three touching, one touching and then rolling away from the breast bone. She inhaled sharply, a small smile coming to her face.

Three times.

Three results the same.

Withdrawing her cards, she drew three out.

The Lovers.

The Tower.

The Devil.

'It already happen,' she whispered. 'Dey run to de Fate dat be cast for dem. No turning back. De great Jack Wolfe find out how it feel to hurt. Him pretty little bride and he dat he treat like a son. Him have destruction around him head.'

She reached once more into her bag and withdrew two small dolls. A male and a female. The one had a ribbon, the other had a lanyard. The poppets were back to back, bound with a black ribbon. Touching but not facing.

She held it up to the moonlight and whispered a few words. 'Wit' dese cords, I bind toget'er dey spirits, and hold apart dey hearts. Dey lives, dey be forever entwine, forever connected, but never share as man and woman.'

The very words she chanted when she first bound them together.

A chuckle escaped her lips which grew into a laugh.

'Sail away, Jack Wolfe! Sail away! Two already betray you. Two, so dear to your dark heart. Dey already cut you to de quick, and cause you such joy and pain. Your heart will break three times."

She put her charms back into her bag, still chuckling.

She stood and faced the horizon, the dark waves lapping the shore in the moonlight.

Softly she said, 'Bones no lie, Jack Wolfe. Bones no lie. Neither do Bonita.'

[The Doctor]

Jack's eyes fluttered open, but screwed shut almost immediately from the pounding throb in his head. He made a tacit vow to himself not to overindulge like he obviously had again, just as he'd vowed a thousand other mornings before. Smiling in the solace of at least knowing for certain who it was he'd find lying beside him, he stretch drowsily and reached toward the other side of the bed... and found it cold and empty.

“Honour?” he called quietly. When no answer came, he sat up and looked around their room. She was nowhere to be seen, and her cloak was missing. He was still in the shirt and breeches he'd worn the previous day. As he struggled to remember the events of last night, he noticed the pistol lying on the floor, its hammer still cocked.

“Oh, God, no. No, no, no, what did I do?!” he wondered desperately.

Bits of memories came drifting back: the tavern, the awful rumours, the argument with Honour and the terrible things he'd said to her, the hurtful accusations. Remorse hit him in a sickening wave. Why did he not trust that she was telling the truth? Why didn't he explain his friendship with Renee?

“Damn you and your pride, Jack,” he said aloud. She had endured hardship and peril, never once wavering from his side. How did he repay her love and fidelity? By judging her guilty on hollow charges and no evidence, because HE felt humiliated by the idle chatter. Instead of standing beside her, he had thrown her to the wolves over wounded pride.

He went to the window and looked down on the street below. The sun had just risen, and people were beginning to go about their morning routines. He caught a glimpse of a woman's cloak near the inn's entrance. It was the same colour and style as Honour's. The woman seemed to hesitate at the door before entering. If it was Honour as he hoped, he could not blame her for being apprehensive about returning. Curiosity about where she may have been was drowned out by his relief that she was safe, and had found it within herself to come back. Jack hurriedly straightened the room, being sure to safe the pistol and hide it out of sight. He splashed some water on his face and tried to do something with his unruly mane, to no avail. Finally, he rummaged around in a small wooden chest, retrieved a green velvet pouch, and stuffed it into his pocket. His heart pounded with hope and dread as the door handle rattled, then slowly turned.

Honour stepped gingerly into the room, her heart beating so hard she could feel it in her ears. The guilt she had felt upon awakening in Cade's arms was nothing compared to what wracked her being now. She could not bear to even look at her husband, so she kept her face hidden by her hood as she turned and closed the door. At that moment, she longed to once again be that carefree girl sitting at the cliffs near her childhood home watching the ships come and go, far away from this place in a far simpler time. But she would not run this time. No, she would face her husband and accept whatever came next.

Strangely, the angry tirade she'd expected was not there. An eerie silence, almost claustrophobic to her, hung in the air. Why didn't he say anything? Where were the now well founded accusations she was certain he'd hurl? Unpredictable to the last, she thought. No small wonder his foes found him so maddening. Honour sighed heavily, resigned to the fact that Jack was going to force her into facing him, the adulteress before the humiliated cuckold. She pulled her hood back and began to remove her cloak. To her amazement, she felt it lifted from her shoulders with incredible delicacy. Fighting against her own shame, she turned, head bowed, to discover what judgement awaited her. Astonishingly, what she found was nothing like what she expected. And her heart broke.

Jack Wolfe, the most feared pirate in the entire Caribbean, stood before her as the epitome of contrition.

“Honour,” he said softly and slowly, his gaze directed at the floor in front of her, “ I am so terribly sorry for the way I mistreated you last night. I have been a poor husband to you. I see that now. When you needed me, I was not there. When I should have offered explanations, I didn't. When I should have trusted you, I didn't. Though I do not expect you to, can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

Her mind reeled. He was begging forgiveness, when it was she who had broken their marriage vows? She knew in her heart that there was no way he could know yet of her sin- committed with the man who Jack loved like a son!- but that only seemed to make her feel worse.

“No, Jack,” she said, her voice nearly cracking with shame. “I'm the one who should be asking forgiveness. Not you.”

“Nonsense!” he interrupted. He stepped towards her and drew her into his arms. It felt to Honour as if he was holding on to her for dear life.

“No, my love. This has all been a terrible misunderstanding, and it is my fault. All I ask is a chance to make things right.”

He pulled the velvet pouch from his pocket and opened it. She gasped when she saw the intricate diamond and emerald necklace as he drew it out into the light.

“I was holding this for a happier occasion, but I want you to have this now as a token of apology.”

“It's beautiful,” she whispered.

So overwhelmed was she by what was happening, it all began to take on a dreamlike quality. Jack held up the necklace, and she turned around to let him put it on her. She swept her long blond hair away from her neck. The glimmering stones were cool upon her skin. He gently kissed the back of her neck as he put his arms around her. Honour leaned back into his embrace and turned her head to look at him. Their lips met, and at that moment the flood gates that had been restraining their emotions burst open at once. Their kisses became hungry, almost desperate. She moved her body against his as he caressed her. His fingers loosened the ties of her chemise and deftly pulled it free from her shoulders. The garment slipped down over her body onto the floor as she turned and began undressing him. They held and touched each other, losing themselves in their sensual tempest. Finally, Jack swept Honour up in his arms and laid her gently upon the bed. She insistently drew him down on to the bed and over her, guiding him to her. As they made love, she kept her eyes closed tightly so he would not see the pain in them, and a single tear ran down her cheek.

Honour lay in Jack's arms, her back to him, their bodies and emotions spent. She wondered what would happen next. How long before Jack found out she betrayed him with Cade? And what revenge would he exact once he knew the truth? Would he kill them both as he had threatened last night? She was thankful Jack couldn't see the haunted look in her eyes. There was no way to run from her terrible mistake, no way to hide it, no way to undo the wrong. She was trapped. The chill of hopelessness began to creep into her heart, so she snuggled back against her husband. He gently stroked her hair the way he always had after they made love, but this time it brought her no joy.

Jack sighed heavily. “Honour,” he said quietly, “I have something to tell you, darling. I wish now that I didn't, and I hope you won't be too angry with me.”

How could he possibly make her angry after what she'd done to him, Honour wondered.

“Please, just tell me, Jack. All our breakables are in storage, so you have nothing to worry about,” she feebly tried to joke.

“All right. You remember the notebook I told you I was trying to find? The one that belongs to a French naturalist?”

“I think so. Why?”

“I know where he is. Martinique. It's practically in my grasp, love!” he enthused.

“How so?” she asked. “Is someone bringing it to you?”

“This is the part I fear will upset you,” he said cautiously. “I'm going to Martinique to buy it. Today.”

Honour turned over quickly to face him. “You're leaving? Today?!”

Her voice was full of hurt. Damn him! He hasn't changed one bit, and never will. Leaving her behind while to go chasing after treasure?

“But we were supposed to look at the plantation tomorrow! What if someone buys it before you decide to come back? Have you considered that?”

“In fact, I have. I've set more than enough money aside to buy the plantation, at your disposal. Briggs will make sure you have it in hand first thing before you go to the property.”

“What, I'm supposed to negotiate the contract?” she asked incredulously.

Jack smiled at her. “Of course! What better way to prove how much I trust you than to let you buy your dream home? You'll do a fine job, I know it.”

The news hit her like a kick in the stomach. Was this to be her destiny, to live the solitary existence of a seaman's wife and pace the widow's walk every day, hoping to see his sails on the horizon?

“Jack, no!" she pleaded. "This is too important, and I need you there with me!”

“I promise, Honour, I'll only be gone a few days. You'll be fine! When I return, we'll start moving in to our new home.”

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Now I really should get my things in order. I sail in just a few hours, and they'll be by shortly for my baggage.” He smiled happily at her, then rose from the bed to get dressed.

Honour pulled the covers up around her, her heart bursting with despair. In the space of less than a day, the marriage that had brought her so much joy had come crashing down around her. She rolled over again, her back to him.

"Do what you feel you have to, Jack. You always do."

[The Doctor]

St. Pierre, Île Martinique

There it was. 43 Rue Bacas. The home of the mad naturalist and linguist Armand LaFourche. For years he had been renowned for his abilities to understand dead languages and their equally dead practitioners. But if the stories were true, his attempts at understanding a forgotten people known only as the Ancients had gotten the better of him. Instead of unravelling their secrets, their secrets had unravelled his mind.

Jack stepped up to the door and knocked. It was answered by a young woman, Honour's age or close to it. She was a frail thing, tall and pale, with eyes that belonged to someone much older.

“Mademoiselle LaFourche?” he inquired politely.

“Oui.”

“My name is Cap... is Jack Wolfe. Please forgive me for dropping by unannounced. I am a great admirer of your father's work. Might it be possible for me to meet him?”

She sighed heavily. “Monsieur Wolfe, my father is a very sick man.” Her heavy accent lent her voice a far more authoritative ring than one might have expected. "I am afraid it is out of the question. Au revoir, monsieur.” She began to close the door.

“Please hear me out!” Jack insisted, and the woman paused. “This is more than just a social call, mademoiselle. I have a business proposition that I believe you would be interested in.”

She mulled his words over for a moment, then opened the door wide. “Please, Monsieur Wolfe. Éntrer.”

The interior of the house was cramped. Not from an ill-conceived floor plan, but rather every available bit of wall space had been converted into bookshelves. The air was heavy with the stale smell of leather, cloth, and vellum. The young woman led Jack through the winding maze of texts. He decided it was as good a time as any to try and break the ice.

“Forgive me, but I don't believe I caught your name.”

“Cecile,” she replied pleasantly. “But you may call me Ceily. Everyone does. You are here to buy my father's journal about Les Anciens, oui?”

“Oui! I mean, yes, that I am. How did you know?"

"You are not the first, monsieur."

"You'll find I am prepared to pay handsomely...”

Ceily cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"I would happily give you the journal, Monsieur Wolfe. But I think you should see what the knowledge contained within it has done to my poor father before you accept. The price is far steeper than you think,” she said ominously.

She brought Jack to a small sunny room. Armand LaFourche was there, sitting in a simple straight backed chair. He was looking out at a small garden Ceily no doubt maintained for him in an attempt to soothe his tortured mind. Jack watched as the disturbed man rocked gently back and forth, quietly chanting something inaudible. Ceily motioned Jack into the room and pointed to a chair for him to sit in next to her father. As he sat, he found the man wasn't chanting, but was instead singing a children's song.

Sur le pont d'Avignon

L'on y danse, l'on y danse

Sur le pont d'Avignon

L'on y danse tous en rond

Les bell' dames font comm' çà

Et puis encore comm' çà...

Ceily kneeled down beside Armand and gently touched his shoulder. He stopped his song to smile at her.

“Papa?” she said softly. “Papa, Monsieur Wolfe voudrais vous parler.”

She nodded toward Jack. Armand looked at his visitor, his strange smile never fading.

“Je ne sais pas vous,” he said warily.

“Monsieur LaFourche, my name is Jack Wolfe. I've come to ask you some questions about the Ancients.”

The man's eyes went wide. “Les Anciens! Oui! Oui, but of course! I can tell you everything about them!”

His voice was suddenly infused with life, the confused fog lifted from his eyes. Such a radical change in his demeanour helped to ease Jack's mind. Perhaps the quest for knowledge about these people had nothing to do with LaFourche's madness after all.

“Did you ever find out where the Ancients lived, for certain?” Jack asked carefully.

“Non. No, I never did. But I learned things far more important.” Armand's expression turned gravely serious. “Things I will tell you, only if you swear to me you will never tell another soul.”

“Believe me, I'll keep anything you tell me a secret. Just between us.” Jack was gambling that even though he seemed lucid enough, Armand might still be soft enough in the head to give up something useful.

“The Moon and Sun in endless chase, must come together in one place.” the man said. Jack blinked and looked to Ceily, who could only offer a shrug.

“That's very interesting, monsieur. Could you be more specific? Do you mean an eclipse?”

The crazed look was creeping back into Armand's eyes.

“In the Chamber of Tomorrows, the Keeper of Kings will awaken. Do you see it?”

He smiled as if Jack should have understood his riddles clearly.

“I'm afraid I'm not following,” said Jack. “Perhaps if we back up a bit...”

“Three Kings will hide before your eyes, their scattered way brought together. Yes, yes, they will hide... until she finds them...”

The enigmatic smile was back, and Armand LaFourche was lost once more. Jack leaned back in his chair, utterly perplexed. Ceily nodded toward the doorway, and the two retreated from the room to the hall.

“So, monsieur. You see what his quest has done to his mind. Do you still want the journal?” she asked, certain Jack would decline like everyone before him.

“You know, I think he actually gave me something to go on. Yes, please. I'll take it off your hands,” he replied without hesitation.

Ceily shook her head sadly, and retrieved a worn book from its place on the shelf. She touched the stained cover, which read 'Un Journal de Conclusions sur la Race perdu connu seulement comme Les Anciens, comme compilées par Armand LaFourche', then quickly handed it over to Jack.

“Here. Take the accursed thing. And may God take pity on you, Capitaine Jacques Wolfe.”

Jack smiled gratefully. "Why should He start now?” He paused, then handed a purse full of coins to her. “For his upkeep, and your kindness. Adieu, mademoiselle."

[Honour Bright]

Honour stayed in their room after Jack had left. Her stomach was tied in knots from the events of the past few days. She had a tray sent up to her room but only picked at the food. The goodbyes were awkward. Jack apologizing for leaving her but the enthusiasm on his face showed that his mind was elsewhere. He hardly noticed the stilted way in which Honour said goodbye.

Staying in the room afforded her the opportunity to avoid Cade. She knew he would be in the tavern. And she didn't feel up to facing him or the awkwardness that would follow. She looked down and touched the diamond and emerald necklace that Jack had given her. Just like a man to think that a gift would make things right. The name-calling. The aborted strikes he almost laid on her. And finally pulling a gun on her.

She shuddered to think what would happen if she hadn't kicked the gun out of his hand.

And she was beginning to realize there was more at stake than just her own life. She pulled the covers back and hugged her pillow. She cried until there were no more tears left and she fell into an exhausted sleep.

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

The next morning the sun shone through her curtains. Something was knocking...and a whining.

'Muir..stop that scratching...'

Then she realized that Muir was still on the ship with Briggs.

She sat up suddenly and realized someone was knocking at the door. Hurriedly she put on her dressing gown and opened the door slightly.

"Mrs. Wolfe...Honour, ma'am..it's me. Briggs."

She opened it fully and a ball of fur came hurtling towards her. She laughed for the first time in days and said, "Muir!"

Briggs shifted uneasily from side to side and said, "Yes, well...he was beginning to chew various boots on the ship so we all took a vote and decided instead of becoming chum, the pooch would be better off with you."

Muir licked her face as she laughed. "Quite allright. Muir, you are just what I need right now!"

Muir ran and got Jack's shirt and dropped it at her feet.

"I'm sorry, Muir. He--he went away."

Briggs also handed her an envelope. "Captain left this bank draft for ye to purchase the land ye talked about. Made out to ye, Mrs. Wolfe. Just put it over at the moneyhouse and they can handle the transfer for ye. Should be plenty there, Ma'am."

She took it and said quietly, "Thank you, Briggs."

She hesitated, "Oh, Briggs?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Briggs...would you..would you please give Puddin' a hug for me?"

He tipped his hat and said. "Ma'am..."

And with that he left.

Honour walked out the front door and as she did, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped a mile.

"Cade!"

He looked at her softly and said, "You were gone when I woke up."

She looked down and said, "About last night..."

"We need to tell him."

"Tell...who?"

"Tell Jack. About us."

"Cade..."

"It's only right, love. We need to tell him so we can make our plans."

"Plans...?"

"Honour, look over at the harbor. What do you see?"

"Ships."

"See the one second from the right? Next to the Dark Vexation?"

"Dark Vexation? Is Captain James Blake in port?"

"Yes, but that is besides the point. The ship next to her is the Gryphon. She was on auction and she is now mine. I'm telling Jack I'm going on my own account now. No more being under Jack's thumb, Honour. We can be free to do what we want. Jack will just have to understand. Now that I am a captain of my own ship, Mad Jack Wolfe and I are equals."

She murmured, "He certainly taught you well, Cade. In all respects."

He took her hands. "Where is Jack?"

She cautiously removed her hands from his. "He's gone."

"Gone? Gone where?"

"To Martinique. To find someone named Armand LaFork."

"Armand LaFourche?"

"Yes..I guess that is the name."

Cade whistled low. "He's really going to do it He's really going to look for the Ancients' chest."

"You know about it?"

"He's talked about it long since I can remember. He's going as loony as LaFourche."

"He'll be back in four day's time. Cade...."

"Darling, I have to go. I have to close the deal on the ship and take care of some business in St Lucia. I'll be back in a week and then we can tell Jack."

"But Cade....."

He kissed her and said, "Don't worry. It will all work out."

And with that he walked down towards the docks.

Honour sat down suddenly trying to fight the rising tide of nausea. 'This just keeps escalating.'

She touched her silver chain and whispered, 'Mother..please. Help me! Which way am I to go?'

She was beginning to suspect her life was about to undergo some changes. But deal with the present now and worry about the future later....

[Honour Bright]

"Monsieur Picou?"

"Oui?"

"I'm here to meet you regarding the sale of your plantation."

Monsieur Picou looked her up and down and said, "I was expecting both you and your husband, Mrs. Wolfe. Has he been detained?"

Honour laughed a bit self-consciously. "Oh, I'm not Mrs. Wolfe! I apologize for not introducing myself. My name is Mrs. Castlemaine. Captain Wolfe was called away and Mrs. Wolfe changed her mind and joined him. But their circumstances have changed. She persuaded him to migrate to the New World. Boston, specifically. She inherited money from her father and convinced the good captain to settle there. I am her cousin twice removed. She told me of the land she was interested in and I decided I may want to invest in Barbadian property so I decided to keep her appointment."

He looked doubtful. "You are so young. You have money?"

Honour nodded. "My late husband--may he rest in peace--left me well off. We were emigrating to Barbados and he drank the water and died. Typhoid."

Monsieur Picou expressed his sympathy. "I'm so sorry."

Honour affected an air of resigned grief.

"Yes. I was devastated. We were only married a short while. But I know Byron would want me to carry on. And he had dreams of investing in sugar cane. I really would love to fulfill his dying wish."

Monsieur Picou wiped a tear from his eye for the young 'widow'.

"Then let us go in to see the house."

Honour gazed at the grandeur of the manor house. A verandah wrapped around three sides of the house. A second balcony was supported by six Grecian columns. The stairs of brick led to a massive front door in oak. The red brick shone in the sunlight.

"Monsieur Picou! This is beautiful!"

He beamed with pride. "Oui! But since my wife died, I want to go back to France. That is where I want to spend my last days."

He opened the front door. A marble staircase greeted them. It ascended up the middle and then split into two staircases. He led her into the parlor which was furnished with lovely furniture. A piano stood in one corner.

"Do you play, Madame?"

She ran her finger lightly over the keys. It had been so long since she sat down to play.

"A bit."

The French doors looked out over a brick patio and onto the ocean. The sheer curtains blew in the breeze.

He led her to the formal dining room. A solid mahogany table with sixteen chairs and a glass chandelier hung from a carved plaster ceiling. A cabinet of crystal stood in the corner and a sideboard for platters was against the opposite wall.

She peeked out the door and there was a detached kitchen with a pergola covered with grapevines and a brick walkway. Forethought to keep the kitchen separate as fires were not unheard of.

Exotic flowers made up the garden. Their perfume filled the air. For a moment, Honour thought of her honeymoon in Castara Bay. It brought up all sorts of feelings but she pushed that thought far away.

Jack messed up their relationship. Chasing after a dream and leaving her alone to deal with this.

So it was his fault.

Whatever happened, it was Jack's fault.

Even Cade.

That was Jack's fault too.

"Let's go upstairs to see the rooms. Take your time and enjoy yourself. I shall be in the office on the left looking at the final accounting my overseer left for me."

They mounted the marble staircase and Honour explored the rooms. The master bedroom also had French doors with a balcony that overlooked the ocean. She sat on the four-poster rice bed and bounced on it a bit, her fingers running over the down comforter. An armoire and chest of drawers completed the set along with oil paintings of scenic countryside. She looked into the alcove and there was a small handcarved cradle. Her heart melted a bit at the sight of the nursery.

The rest of the rooms were tastefully appointed with furnishings that bespoke of opulence.

"What do you think of it, Madame?"

"It is beautiful. How much did you say?"

He named his price and Honour replied, "That is quite pricey and a bit more than I was willing to pay."

"You must remember, Madame, that it is over 500 acres."

"I'm prepared to offer you this sum if you reduce it by 15%."

She passed him a paper that she had written an amount.

Mr. Picou mulled it over. "Since you love it and will take care of it....Deal."

The money draft was presented and the new deed was filed.

But not under the name of Honour Wolfe.

It was deeded to R. C. Castlemaine.

Jack would never know that his wife was the legal owner.

The sole legal owner.

Honour was five hundred acres richer.

Jack was 5,000 guilders poorer.

And that was Jack's fault, too.

It was enough to secure her future and her independence.

Never would Rhiannon Conaway Castlemaine be dependent on anyone again.

Especially a man.

[The Doctor]

“Conscripted?!” Jack roared at the master of the merchant ship Fidelity.

They were supposed to weigh anchor that day, bound for Barbados, but the captain had been served a decree stating that his ship was no longer a private freighter, but a supply ship in England's Navy. Ships of all types were being pressed into the service of the Commonwealth now that Cromwell had launched his Western Design, meaning that England's tempestuous relationship with Spain had finally escalated into all out war even in the Caribbean. Since the French had nothing but contempt for the Spanish, they were more than happy to host English troops on their soil for a nominal fee. As usual, war was good for business.

“I'm sorry, Mister Wolfe, but I have no say in this,” explained the captain. “There's a whole slew of Marines aboard her right now, offloading every last bit of cargo to make room for guns and men. The owners won't be happy, not one bit. But what can I do?”

Jack tried his best to rein in his temper. He knew it wasn't the captain's fault, but he desperately wanted to yell at someone for this incredible inconvenience.

“You have my sympathies, Captain Sumner,” Jack said testily. “But you'll excuse me. I have to find someone with a ship that's NOT BLOODY CONSCRIPTED INTO SOME STUPID BLOODY STUPID WAR!! Good day, sir!”

He straightened his hat and stalked to the door of the harbour master's offices, where he was pleasantly surprised to find them still open for business. Two deep calming breaths later, he stepped inside. There were some irate merchants venting their frustrations to an English officer, who offered in return little more than a stony expression as he stared at nothing in particular. Jack bypassed the group and went to the clerk's counter. There was nervous man behind it who was trying desperately to ignore everyone and everything around him. Jack gave him his best cheery smile, and the man seemed to relax a bit.

“Excuse me, but I'd like to speak with the harbour master, please,” he said calmly.

The man looked around, and said quietly and quickly, “Ce serait à moi, monsieur. Eh, that is, I am the harbour master.”

“Ah, good! I'm in need of a ship bound for Barbados, the sooner the better. Heard of any?”

“Je suis très désolé...” the harbour master began.

“My ship will be making for Barbados,” said another man who was signing some documents. He was a grizzled old salt, but clean and well dressed. “We'll not be much for taking cargo, but we can carry a passenger if you stay out of the way. Who wants to know?”

Jack extended his hand. “Jack Wolfe,” he said quietly. “And you are?”

“Captain Stephen Mathwig, at your service. Your name has a familiar ring, Mister Wolfe. Have a ship of your own, do you?”

“Me? A ship? No,” Jack lied. “If I had a ship, why would I be here begging passage home?”

Mathwig nodded. “Fair point, that. Anyway, if you're in a hurry like it sounds you are, I’m afraid I can't be of much help to you. We just made port today, and won't leave for another four days.”

“Four days?” Jack said, crestfallen. He looked to the harbour master. “Are there any other ships for Barbados leaving sooner?”

The man nodded no.

“Looks like I'm your best bet, Mister Wolfe,” said Mathwig. “Interested?”

“Where shall we discuss terms?” asked Jack.

“Meet me in an hour, just down the street at Le Cheval Rouge. You can’t miss it. The sign has a brightly painted--”

“Red horse, yes, I gathered from the name,” interrupted Jack.

“Of course,” smiled the older captain. “You look like a well travelled man. It shows in the eyes. I’ll meet you there, and we'll sort things out to make certain you have a berth on the Homecoming.”

“I do have a question, Captain Mathwig.”

“And what would that be, Mister Wolfe?”

“Every other English ship larger than a dinghy is getting conscripted into Cromwell’s madness. How is it yours isn’t among them?”

Captain Mathwig gave a sly smile. “Let’s just say my vessel doesn’t appear on any merchant’s ledgers, Mister Wolfe. I’m sure a man like yourself can appreciate my meaning.”

“That I do, Captain. I’ll see you in an hour.”

Jack tipped his hat and walked out to the street. At least he had found a fellow pirate for his passage home. Nevertheless, his return was now delayed. His absence would be almost ten days away from Honour instead of the promised four. He hoped she would understand. He pictured her standing on the widow's walk of the manor house on their new plantation, watching every sail that approached from the north and hoping that it was the one carrying her husband home to her.

“This is the one and only time she'll ever feel the need to do that,” he vowed. “Never again.”

[Honour Bright]

Leaving the magistrate's office with the new deed, Honour wondered if she were doing the right thing. Jack had been so tender and loving yesterday. And then he casually told her he would be gone and back in four days. No discussion. No...nothing.

He just expected her to make a major purchase.

And why?

'So he would have a place to stow me. A convenient place to put me so he wouldn't have me getting in the way of his fun. Like the necklace. Try to kill me one day and placate me with jewelry so I would forget all about it. Now he wants a place to hang his hat when he's in port.'

She had a feeling that her life was about to change. She had begun to suspect it ever since she came back to Jack from her one-night mistake with Cade.

But did Cade want her for himself? Or was it because she was Jack's wife?

She felt light-headed and sat down. Too many questions, not enough answers...

"Honour?"

Her head jerked up.

"James Blake!"

The privateer grinned at her. "Or should I be formal?"

He swept his tricorn from his head and gave her a deep mock bow. "Why, Mrs. Wolfe! What a pleasure to run into you. May I inquire as to your health? And how fares Mr. Wolfe?"

She grimaced. "Making fun of me are you, James?"

He sat down next to her.

"Not at all, Honour. How are you?"

She shrugged. "I've been better."

"Ah. The life of a pirate's wife not agree with you?"

"It's not that...it's just...James, do you believe in Fate?"

He looked off to the harbour. "I think we all have a destiny we follow. Things happen for a reason, Honour. Why do you ask?"

She looked down and said, "Things have gone terribly wrong. And I wonder if I am being punished for past sins."

"That will need some explaining."

She looked up at him and tears were beginning to form in her eyes. "Something I did once ended up terribly wrong. I am wondering now if I am paying the price. Is it my destiny to have happiness elude me? It's like trying to hold onto water in your hand. You scoop it up only to have it run through your fingers."

He took her hand and said "You are too hard on yourself, Honour. There is no guarantee of happiness in this life. Just...life. We live it the best we can."

She finally got up the nerve. "James...where are you going and when are you leaving?"

"I'm headed for Port Royal and I'm leaving first thing tomorrow. Why?"

Honour became almost desperate in her request. "I need to leave, James. Don't ask me why. Please. Just know that this will save a few lives if I do. I want to book passage with you to Port Royal. I'll give you another name and no one will know it was you who took me out of here."

"Honour, I don't know..."

"PLEASE, James! I'm begging you! I--I have a few chests in storage I need to take. Only a few. If you have a few of your men meet me at St Michael's Number Eleven..if they can meet me this afternoon, I can be ready to leave at dawn. Take me to Port Royal and I'll book passage out of there to somewhere else."

"Honour, I need to know what has happened."

"James, I can't tell you. I can't! The less people know the better. Trust me on this."

Her voice took an almost hysterical edge to it.

"Alright. On two conditions."

She nodded.

"First, Jack Wolfe must never--NEVER!--know I was the one who spirited you out of here. Second---that you tell me the real reason you are leaving. And I want the truth."

"I swear Jack won't know. And I'll tell you the reason as soon as we clear the harbour. I promise."

James nodded solemnly. "I know I have your word. I'll send two men to meet you at that warehouse at four bells."

She couldn't stop the tears from falling as she took his hand. "Thank you, James. Thank you with all my heart."

He sighed."It had better be a good reason, Honour. A damn good reason."

She whispered, "It is. It really is."

~~~~~~~~~

She packed her things quickly and quietly. There was a knock on her door. She heard a voice say, "Honour? It's me...Cade. Honour? Are you in there?"

She held her breath and didn't answer. After a few minutes she heard his footsteps down the hall.

'It's for your own good, Cade. Godspeed.'

Muir sat there watching his mistress empty drawers into a few duffel bags. The necklace Jack bought her was still in the pouch. She held it up to the window and watched the light refract through the diamonds. It was valuable to be sure. She touched it gently and slipped it into her pocket. The last of the drawers was empty. Honour stood up and arched her back. "Packing is hard, Muir."

He ran under the bed and came back out with a shirt of Jack's, laying it at her feet and looking expectantly up at her, his tail wagging. This brought a fresh round of tears.

She hugged Muir and cried. "Oh, Muir! I wish it didn't end this way. But it has to. I can't think of just myself any longer. And we aren't running away...we are running TO something."

She closed the drawer but it caught on something. Something shiny. Reaching in, she pulled out the obstruction. It was the hideous piece of gold that Jack had given her instead of a wedding ring that night they

married. She held it up to the candle and said, 'It really was ugly. I should just pitch it....'

She threw it into her duffel bag and tied the drawstring.

She looked down at her hand and sadly transferred her gold wedding ring with the emeralds from her left hand to her right.

To Muir she said, "I'm doing the right thing, Muir. For all of us. But especially for...."

She didn't finish her thought. It was too new a notion yet.

~~~~

Dawn saw Honour down at the dock. Captain James Blake was directing his crew when he caught sight of her. He took her hands and said, "Walk with me for a minute."

When they were out of earshot of everyone, he said, "I booked your passage under the name of Mary Carter. You can sleep in my cabin. There is room and you will be in comfort there. The crew will think you are my woman and you will be untouchable."

She drew her hood closer to her face. "James, I can't thank you enough."

"Remember our bargain."

"As soon as we clear the harbour."

Within the hour, the wind filled the sails of the Dark Vexation. The sun was beginning to rise as Bridgetown was to their rudder. Blake took her by the hand and said, "Time for our little parlay, Mrs. Wolfe. Follow me to the quarterdeck. We shall have privacy there."

The two of them stood side by side at the gunwale. The silence was palpable. Finally Blake said, "Alright, Honour. Time to fulfill your promise."

She looked over the horizon and began to relate the story she had for James. It was an edited version of what really happened.

"James, it has been a very confusing month for me."

He smiled slightly and said, "Running into you in Castara was startling enough. But to have you presented as Mrs. Jack Wolfe..well, I couldn't quite believe it. Does Jack know about...us?"

She shook her head. "There was no need to tell him. It was before I even met Jack. We were but a moment."

James Blake smiled wistfully. "Two weeks, Honour. A very wonderful two weeks. And a memory I shall always treasure."

"I told you if you are ever in port again..."

"Yes, but I never counted on the infamous Mad Jack Wolfe as being in the picture. Startled the hell out of me."

She nodded. "It startled me, too. There I was laying whiskey down at the Varlet and Vixen and in a few hours I was standing before the magistrate exchanging vows. With practically a total stranger."

"Were you happy, Honour?"

She looked over the horizon and said softly. "For a while, I was happy. Blissfully so. It all started to unravel when we encountered the Mercedes."

James nodded. "I heard all the tavern talk. And then some."

"What did you hear?"

"The usual talk when a ship takes a hit. Who did what and where they went wrong."

James didn't have the heart to tell Honour of the malicious talk about Jack and the unsavory speculation about her and Cade.

James turned to her and turned his face to his.

"Honour, you're peaked and tired. You aren't sick, are you?

She shook her head no. "James? You asked me for the truth on why I am leaving. So I am keeping my end of the bargain. But you can never breathe a word of it to anyone. ANYONE! Promise me first."

James nodded solemnly. "Honour, you can always trust me. I hope you know that."

"I do. James, I am leaving because... because I need to protect myself. And someone else. Jack has such a temper and I don't know if he could ever accept what I am about to tell you."

"You are leaving Jack for Cade?"

Honour looked shocked. James shrugged and said, "Idle tavern talk."

Honour felt sick. She should have known that the loose tongues of the pirates in port would wag.

She continued, "At first I didn't think it to be true. But the signs are all there, James. I'm having a hard time grasping it myself."

"Jack has another woman?"

She shook her head. "No. James, I can scarcely believe this myself. Something wonderful came out of all this chaos. Something very unexpected."

"And that is...?"

She looked up at James Blake, tears in her eyes but they weren't tears of sadness.

A smile trembled on her lips as she said quietly, "I'm going to have a baby."

[The Doctor]

From the deck of the aptly named sloop Homecoming, Jack watched the twinkling lights of Bridgetown. They had arrived too late for the pilot to bring them into port, so the vessel rode quietly at anchor near the harbour's mouth. To be so tantalizingly close to hearth and home was maddening for him. Four days had turned to nearly ten, and the only thought on his mind was how sweet it would be to hold Honour in his arms once again. With the plantation in their name and the Lobo to be auctioned in four days time, Jack Wolfe was finally ready to settle down and make a real home with his wife, and one day soon, their children. He swore to himself that he would never be away from Honour's side ever again.

The trip to Martinique had gone far better than he'd hoped. Armand LaFourche's daughter Ceily had practically thrown her insane father's journal at Jack, believing it was the cause of poor Armand's madness. Now it was his turn to try his hand at decode the mystery of the long dead Ancients and, more importantly, their fabled treasures. If there was even a shred of truth to the stories, it could mean a delightful little adventure he and Honour could share together. At the very worst, it would be an interesting intellectual diversion.

Jack had sent two brief letters ashore with the ship's jollyboat, one to Briggs and another to Honour, informing them he would be ashore not long after first light. Though he was restless with anticipation, he managed to quiet his mind enough to try and sleep. He had no intention of being exhausted and bedraggled when he was reunited with his bride. He had come to miss Honour terribly, even more so when he was forced to stay in Martinique a few extra days waiting for passage home. That was all behind him now. He drifted off to sleep, content in the knowledge that in a few hours he would be with his beloved Honour, and home.

The harbour pilot came aboard as the sun rose like the Phoenix over the island, and within the hour the Homecoming was nearly into her slip. Lines were thrown, hauled, and tied off with practised efficiency. Jack stood at the gunwale, searching the faces gathering there at the dock. He spied Briggs and waved to his friend. The quartermaster waved back, but his expression was anything but cheery. Honour was nowhere to be seen.

Jack was the first one down the gangplank, and he immediately searched out his friend.

“Josiah! It's good to see you! Where the devil is Honour? Is she ill?”

Briggs set his jaw and sighed. “I figured from your happy mood ye didn't get the letter I sent. Damn. I didn't want ye to find out this way. Let's walk a bit.”

The two men walked along the dock toward the carriage Briggs had hired.

“What the hell is going on?! Where is my wife?” Jack demanded.

Briggs stopped and face him. “Honour's gone, Jack. She packed up and cleared out a couple days after you left for Martinique. I'm so sorry.”

Jack felt suddenly sick. An awful light-headedness swept over him, making his legs feel like rubber. Briggs reached out and steadied his stricken comrade. After a minute or so, Jack found his voice again. His words came slowly and deliberately, as if it took all his strength to form them.

“Did she... did she leave with Cade?” he asked through clenched teeth. A terrible dread gripped his soul. The answer he feared would destroy him.

“Cade? No, not with him. Nobody's quite sure who gave her passage, but it weren't Cade Jennings.” Briggs paused for a moment. “But ye ain't goin' to like the news about him, neither.”

Jack looked around and found a short barrel to lean against. He crossed his arms and looked at the planks of the dock, totally unsure what to think or feel. She hadn't left with Cade. That meant the rumours were untrue. But why did she leave at all?

“Josiah, you've just told me my wife has left me, God only knows why. And you tell me there's even more bad news?”

“I'm sorry, Jack, I really am,” Briggs said softly. “Ye know you're the last man I'd ever kick when he's down. Things went to hell in a right hurry after ye left. The very next day, Cade bought himself a ship, the Gryphon I think she's called. He's broke company with ye, Jack. Left port that day to go rovin' on his own account. Seems he'd been plannin' it for a while now.”

It felt to Jack like he was being hollowed out, one devastating stroke at a time.

“I knew it would happen one day,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Why didn't he tell me, instead of accepting the run of the Castara operation? I would have understood!”

The chill of suspicion crept back in to his heart. First Cade leaves, then Honour. Did they plan it that way, to throw Jack off the scent? Did they think he wouldn't suspect they might be meeting up elsewhere?

“I ain't goin' to pretend I know what goes on in the head of a boy like Cade. Impulsive to a fault, that one. Probably why ye took a shine to him. But I'll wager anything that pup will bite off more than he can chew sooner than not!”

“I want him watched.”

“Eh?”

“I want Cade Jennings watched,” Jack repeated, punctuating each syllable. His voice was like ice. “I want to know where he goes, what he does, what his plans are, and especially who he's with at all times. The same applies to Honour. If she's in the Caribbean, I want her found. See that the word gets out.”

The single most effective weapon in his arsenal was an extensive information gathering network that stretched to every nook and cranny of the Caribbean. Everyone knew that Jack Wolfe had eyes and ears everywhere, and they never rested. Those who betrayed him found out very quickly that there was no place to hide. He would find them. And they would pay dearly for their treachery.

“Aye, I'll see to it,” said Briggs. He knew better than to ask questions when his captain's voice went cold.

Jack looked up at him, looking for all the world a beaten man. “Please tell me that's all the news you have, Josiah.”

Briggs shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry, Jack. There is one more bit of insult to injury, and it ties right back to that wife of your'n.”

“Don't tell me. She took the cat?”

“I wish to hell she had. No, a carriage she hired was at one of the storehouses on St. Michael street early the day she went missing.”

“Number Eleven.”

“Aye,” said Briggs. “All told, between the money for the plantation and the withdrawal she made from the First Bank of Jack Wolfe, ten full chests are missing.”

Jack stared blankly out across the waves, as if by some miracle he would catch a final glimpse of Honour.

“Ten chests...” he echoed. Why didn't she take all of them? One more indecipherable riddle added to the mix. But the driving force was all too clear to him. “She used me, Josiah. This entire time, all she wanted was the money. How could I have been so blind?”

“She had us all fooled, Jack. Every last one of us.”

“Not everyone,” Jack shot back. “Bonita tried to warn me, but I was too lovestruck to listen.”

“With that witch's riddles, how can ye be certain? No, that Honour is a cagey one. If that's even her real name. I guess we'll never know now.”

“I don't even know what's real any more, Josiah. Do you know if she actually bought the plantation, or was that just another of her charades?” asked Jack.

“Beats me. I trusted her, too, remember.”

Jack stood up and straightened his waistcoat. “We're going to the magistrate's,” he said, walking full speed for the carriage. “I want to know just how much that woman swindled me for.”

[The Doctor]

The carriage splashed through mud left by a passing morning shower and came to a stop outside the offices of the magistrate. Jack exited quickly, leaving Briggs to deal with the coachman. He opened the office door with enough force for it to band sharply against the wall, startling the magistrate's clerk and causing him to drop a stack of papers to the floor.

“Hello there!” the clerk said with annoyance, “You can't come barging in here like that! Have a bit of civility about you!”

Jack gave a mocking half bow. “I beg your pardon, but I'm on a matter of some urgency.”

“It will wait whilst I collect these papers, if you don't mind,” replied the clerk.

Unable to contain his temper any longer, Jack reached for his pistol. It wasn't there. He'd left it at the White Hart because he was travelling as a common gentleman. One more blow to his ego for the day. He was helpless to intimidate a snotty office clerk. Finally the man moved the stack of documents to it's new resting place and returned to the counter.

“May I help you, sir?”

“I need to see all the records of land transactions for the past fortnight,” said Jack.

“I'm sorry,” the clerk said smugly. “You'll need a letter of- WAIT!” Jack grabbed two fistfuls of the man's waistcoat and dragged him halfway over the counter.

“The records. Now,” he growled, and released the clerk, who was suddenly all to happy to comply. Within moments, Jack was thumbing through the pages of a large ledger.

“What did she say his name was? Picard, Picou... That's it! Picou!” He checked every entry to be certain not to overlook the name if it were there. Finally, he found it. The record of sale for a plantation. The seller, Monsieur Henri Picou. The buyer...

R. C. Castlemaine.

He stared in disbelief at the page. She'd lied about the plantation. She'd lied about everything. Everything...

He angrily shoved the massive book off the counter and stormed from the office, his face burning with humiliation. Briggs had stayed behind, waiting at the carriage so Jack could conduct his search of the records in private. The look on his friend's face told the quartermaster everything he needed to know.

“The White Hart,” he told the driver. “Take your time.”

Briggs climbed into the carriage across from his captain. In all the years he'd known Jack, he'd never seen him like this. Lost. Crushed. The wild fire in his eyes all but extinguished. There were no words to cajole or comfort this time. The two men sat in silence as the carriage rolled on.

Jack paused at the door to their... to his room. The terrible emptiness he felt seemed to grow a thousandfold as his hand touched the door handle. He knew what he would find, but what the mind understands and the heart feels seldom ever reconcile. He took a deep breath and turned the handle.

What was once the temporary home of Jack and Honour Wolfe was now a room at an inn, like any other. Nondescript, void of the feminine presence that had given it warmth. Empty, save for a single shirt left upon the bed. He picked it up and held it to his face, thinking back to the many times Honour had worn his shirts instead of her dressing or night gowns so he could catch her subtle scent of jasmine when he wore them next. All that was gone now. He dropped the shirt on the bed and turned to the dresser, expecting to find there a letter explaining why she'd left with no word or warning to anyone. But there was no letter. He searched the dresser drawers and the writing desk. Everything that belonged to her had been removed, even the ugly golden piece he'd given her for their wedding. No explanation, no clues. Honour Bright, his wife of nearly one month, the woman he was only now realizing how much he loved, was gone from his life.

Sadly and silently, Jack Wolfe unpacked his sea bag, and began to restore some small semblance of order to his world.

That night, Jack sat alone in his room. The plate of food and bottle of brandy he'd sent for were still on the dresser, barely touched. He poured over the journal of Armand LaFourche once again, this time for the distraction its riddles and strange pagan imagery offered more than anything else. It would take months if not longer to gain a basic grasp of the concepts the madman had tried to communicate in his writings.

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

Candlelight played over the stained and yellowed pages, lending an almost otherworldly quality to the meticulous renderings of bizarre creatures and nightmarish gods. He took a sip of brandy as he studied a drawing of a chest labelled “The Keeper of Kings,” just like LaFourche had spoken of in one of his riddles. There was no mention of what it might hold, only that it was roughly a yard in length and to unlock it required two keys. Jack remembered a cryptic partial entry he'd read previously that seemed somehow connected. He flipped back to near the front of the book. As he located the passage, he noticed that one of the pages seemed thicker than the others. Closer examination revealed that two pages had indeed become stuck together over time. He set his brandy aside and ever so gently pried the leafs of parchment from one another. The drawings they had hidden from him left Jack staring in wide-eyed astonishment.

He knew them.

He owned them.

Or, he had until recently.

There before his eyes were exquisitely detailed images of the two keys that would open the Keeper of Kings. The first was a silver disk, with some sort of grinning face engraved upon it. Short blunt spikes of varying lengths protruded from the disk's outer edge in all directions. The second was a disk of gold, with a hideous snarling face and long, slender arms reaching out from its perimeter.

Two critical pieces needed for solving the riddle of the Ancients, and he'd given one of them away to a woman who had vanished as if taken by the wind.

“The Moon and Sun in endless chase,” Jack quoted aloud, and sat back in his chair with a self deprecating laugh that soon took on a bitter edge. “How fittingly ironic, my love. I don't know where you've gone, Honour Bright, but I will find you, if it takes the rest of my life!”

[Honour Bright]

Three days later---aboard the Dark Vexation

Honour found it hard to sleep. It wasn't that James Blake's bed was uncomfortable. Her mind wouldn't shut off and drifted back to the last few days.

Under the name of Mary Carter, the crew of the Dark Vexation was under the impression that Honour was his woman.

And under the rules of the unwritten code, she was untouchable. The only protection she wasn't afforded would be during a mutiny.

But Blake's crew thought the world of him so she knew she was safe.

So many things had gone wrong. Honour had never felt so alone.

So vulnerable.

And now she was responsible for another life.

Her unborn baby.

The enormity of everything came crashing down on her.

The familiar sense of panic was rising in her. She buried her face in the pillows, her body wracked with sobs.

"Honour?"

A quiet voice said from the other side of the room.

She lifted her tear-stained face and looked into the deep brown eyes of James Blake.

"Oh, James," she sobbed.

He sat on the edge of the bed and gathered her into his arms.

"Hush, darling. Everything will be alright."

"No, it won't. It never will be, James. I am as good as an unwed mother. I'm having mixed feelings about going home to Wales."

"Do you want me to send you back to Barbados?"

"No, I can't. I have to go home. Megan will take care of me. She always promised she would be there for me."

She gently laid her head against James's chest.

Blake gently stroked her hair and kissed her gently on the top of her head.

"Thank you, James."

"For what?"

"For....everything. I feel guilty taking your bed while you are sleeping on a pallet."

"No problem. I've slept on harder surfaces."

"You can at least share this bed. It's not like we haven't shared a bed before."

"But for different reasons, Honour. As long as you are Jack Wolfe's wife, I won't do anything to intrude on that relationship. The waters are muddied as it is."

She raised her head to him. "It doesn't matter anymore. When I get to Wales I will petition for a divorce on the grounds of abandonment."

"But you left him."

"Immaterial. He ran off to Martinique and left me to buy a plantation on my own. "

"And did you?"

"No," she lied. "It was already sold by the time I got there. I won't get an annulment. I won't have aspersions of bastardy thrust upon this child. I will wait till the child is born and then start the legal process. I am sure I can get a divorce with Jack being in absentia."

"And for that reason, I will not touch you."

"I don't understand."

"As long as you are carrying Jack's child, I won't have any shadow of a doubt that the paternity of the child is questioned."

She felt a catch in her voice.

"I am afraid there may be questions if it ever gets out."

Blake raised her chin to meet his eyes.

"There is more to this than you are telling me."

"Jack listened to rumours when Cade was escorting me around town. My husband was being neglectful to me and Cade offered a shoulder to cry on."

Blake grimaced, "And he offered you more than a shoulder."

"I swear, James, it only happened once. And when it did, I already had a feeling this child was on the way. And there is no doubt in my mind that the baby is Jack's. I began to get queasy on the way back from Castara. And...I had other clues."

Blake laughed softly in the dark. "No need to paint the picture, Honour. I understand."

She ran her finger down his chest and he caught her hand.

"As much as it is tempting, I am afraid I shall have to decline, Honour. And for another reason. Jack Wolfe is my friend. If and when you are free being known as Mrs. Jack Wolfe, we will revisit the situation. But there is one thing you should know."

"What is that?"

His voice took on a faraway tone. "I am not the marrying kind, Honour. All I can offer is the carnal comforts. If there is an implied promise or notion of anything more.....I am sorry. I cannot oblige."

Honour turned away, embarrassed by the rebuff from James.

"I--I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

He turned her face towards his.

"Honour, it's not that I don't find you attractive. Lord knows, I do. I had a hard time getting you out of my mind. Sometimes I wonder...."

"Wonder what, James?"

"How our lives would have changed if you had been back in the tavern that night."

"You said you are not the marrying kind."

"And I am not. But as I told you in Castara, I would have taken you around the world."

Honour gently touched his cheek as she put her arms around his neck.

"Just get me to Wales, James. Right now that is all I ask."

[The Doctor]

Three days later, in Bridgetown, Barbados

Mimi knocked on the door.

"Yes? What is it?"

"You'd better come downstairs, Madame Renee. We have a bit of a situation."

Renee opened the door.

"Don't tell me the Ferguson twins are back in town."

"No, Ma'am. The situation is in the drawing room. And I think your help is needed."

"Oh, bother. Very well. You sure Enoch can't handle it?"

"No, Ma'am. More of a... well, you'd best come."

Renee hastened downstairs, fastening the belt on her dressing gown.

"Oh, Lord."

Jack looked up at her with bleary, bloodshot eyes.

"She's gone."

"Gone?"

"Disappeared is more like it. Not a trace. Not even a bootlace left."

Renee crossed over to Jack.

"I'll get the brandy. Not that you need any more of it."

"Don't worry, Pip. I brought my own."

Jack held aloft a bottle. A disappointed frown came across his face when he slowly realised it was empty.

"Damn," he sighed. "Bloody awful day."

"Don't you dare throw that bottle, Jack Wolfe!" Renee said sharply.

"Do you talk like this to all your customers?"

"You're not a customer. You're a friend. Now sit your drunk arse down and tell me what happened."

She took the empty bottle from him and replaced it with a glass of brandy.

"I came back from Martinique... was it two days ago? No, three days," he said sadly. "Got the journal from that loony Frenchman, LaFork."

"LaFourche."

"You know him?"

"Oh dear. Just... keep going. You arrived in port here, and?"

"Anyway, I expected to see Honour at the docks. Husband comes home from a voyage, the wife is there to meet him. I mean, that's the way it works, right?"

"Yes, I expect so."

"Well, she wasn't there," said Jack, his voice cracking. "Turns out she wasn't anywhere."

He slugged back the brandy and wiped his eyes.

“There was Briggs. Oh, dutiful, ever faithful Briggs. He gave me the news, that Honour... that she was... Oh God, Renee, she was gone! I even stopped by the registrar's office, to find out if she'd bought that plantation she had her eye on. The one she talked about in Castara. But some bloke’s name was on the papers."

"Someone bought it before she could?"

"I expect so. Maybe that was the last straw, I don't know. When I got home..." he laughed bitterly. "Home. Bollocks. Anyway, everything was gone. All her clothes, all her possessions. Everything. Like she'd never been there."

"What about a note? Surely she--"

"NOTHING! I had to find out from Josiah. I knew something was wrong when I stepped off the ship and he was there. He had that look, you know? That... pity look. I hate that look. Oh God, how I hate that look."

Jack produced a shirt and threw it on the floor.

"That. That is all I have to remember her by."

Renee picked up the shirt.

"Your shirt?"

"Smell it."

Renee took a whiff.

"Jasmine."

"And like her, it will be taken by the wind. First ocean breeze and... gone."

Renee sat next to Jack, not knowing what to say.

"You know what the kicker is, Renee? She stole from me."

"Stole? But... what..?"

Jack ran his fingers through his dishevelled hair. "Just... some cash. A lot of it. Kind of rolled me." He laughed derisively. "Rolled. Odd choice of words, isn't it? Maybe that's all we were. A hellluva good roll."

"She stole more than that, Jack"

"What do you mean?"

"She stole your heart."

He shook his head. "You have to have a heart to have it stolen."

"Now don't you go trying to deny that, John Michael Wolfe. This is Pip Woolston you are talking to. Probably the one woman who understands you more than any woman alive. Even more than your dearly disappearing wife."

"What am I going to do, Pip?"

"You will go on. You will get out of bed every morning... breathe in and out all day long. Then, after a while you won't have to remind yourself to get out of bed every morning and breathe. The memory of her will fade. I doubt you will think of this kindly. But think of it as a lesson learned."

"You always did look at the practical side of things."

"Maybe next time you will think with your head and not your heart. Or any other important part of you. You were so eager to bed her that all reason was cast aside and she was shrewd. Oh, so shrewd! Blame it on the whiskey, blame it on the moonlight. But whatever it was, she played her hand and won. And you know what else?"

“No, but I think you’re gonna tell me anyway.”

“Jack, I’m only saying this because it’s true, and I know you won’t remember even half of it tomorrow. You never do.”

He looked at her and made an honest attempt to focus his eyes. “All right then, what?”

“How can you be so bloody thick when it comes to women and so brilliant with everything else?” she said, the frustration in her voice evident. “ You were thick then, and you’re thick now. Maddening as hell, it is.”

Jack gave her a bleary look. “What are you on about? Thick back when? What about?”

Renee shook her head sadly as she searched his bloodshot eyes. “You really don’t know, do you? You never could tell? Not even a little?”

“Tell what?”

“That for all these years, ever since you brought me that first book. And you quizzed me on it after I’d read it, remember? We talked about it for hours that night. You opened my eyes to so very many things. And I suppose that from that night, all this time I’ve... I’ve been in---”

Her voice caught and cracked at that moment of confession, and her courage with it. She took her hands in his and tried to put on a genial smile.

“--- in your debt, that’s what I’ve been. And now, you need a friend. Yes, that’s just what you need. A good friend. Good old Pip, picking up the pieces like always. I’ll start with refilling your brandy.”

Renee got up quickly and went to the ornate wooden stand that held the fine spirits. She kept her back to Jack so he couldn’t see the tears that would have surely betrayed the feelings she could not bring herself to say aloud.

“You know what, Pip?” he asked.

Hastily she wiped her eyes. “What- what is it, dove?”

“Besides Josiah, you’re my very best friend.”

She winced. Why did she let herself hope, for even a moment, that he might say those three words? Even with him drunk, it would have been preferable to hear it from his own lips and not in some foolish daydream. She gulped down the brandy and poured more in the glass.

“Hey, that was mine!” he protested.

“So a girl can’t drink? I’ve half a mind to cut you off.” Renee downed the glass and gave him a defiant look. It was a rare thing for her to drink hard liquor. But the quicker she could make herself numb, the less her heart would hurt. She wanted to be angry with him. But she simply couldn’t bring herself to be.

Jack pouted. “Well, aren’t you just the big tease?”

“Big tease, eh?” She poured another half glass and knocked it back. “Get up.”

“You throwing me out?”

“Just get up off your arse and on your feet, if you can.”

He gave her a confused look, and carefully got to his feet.

Renee walked over to him and held out her hand. “Take it.”

“Where are we going?” he said as he took her hand in his.

She led him to the stairs. “I’m putting you to bed.”

“I get to sleep it off here?”

“Eventually,” she said as ascended the staircase with Jack in tow. ‘I may never have your heart, I can sure as hell enjoy your body for a while. Like always,’ she said to herself.

[The Doctor]

Jack made his way down the stairs gingerly. His very heartbeat seemed to pound in his skull, and every footfall added to the drumming. Everything seemed too loud, too bright. It didn't help that his mouth was so dust dry every attempt to swallow was a chore. He could scarcely make out the shape of Monique as she met him coming up the stairs.

"Bonjour!" she said in what ordinarily would have been a cheery sing-song.

But to Jack's ears, it was like nails on a chalkboard. He managed a grunt as he brushed past her.

Finally, he found his way to the kitchen at the back of the house. Sun was streaming in through the windows, and for a moment Jack felt he was staring into a blast furnace.

"Blimey, it lives!" laughed Renee.

Jack made a face in her general direction, as his eyes were still screwed shut against the onslaught of sunlight.

"You're cheery this morning," he croaked.

"It's half past two, dove. Another hour and I would have been up there checking for a pulse."

"I'm alive, barely. Is there anything to drink?"

"The coffee is fresh."

"I meant real drink. I'm not up to facing sobriety just yet."

"Coffee. No backtalk. You had your fill last night at least three times over. Not that it slowed you down any."

"That's me, constitution of an ox."

"More like an overgrown rabbit."

"I thought you were getting me coffee?"

"I'll see if I can find a bucket. Something tells me you're better off soaking that aching head of yours in it rather than drinking it. Just mind where you sit if you're not going to open your eyes."

"Why? Do we have company? Which one of the girls is here?"

"It ain't Monique," said Briggs.

Briggs came in from around the corner.

"Are these the scones ye were talkin; about, Renee?" He held a basket covered with a cloth.

She took them from his hands. "The very ones.Although more suited for breakfast."

She tightened the sash to her dressing gown.

Jack squinted at Briggs.

"Since when did you have a twin, Josiah?"

"What do ye mean?"

"There are two of you."

"Has anyone told ye that you look like hell, Jack?"

"Not yet, but it is early in the day."

Renee poured the coffee and handed Jack a cup. He reached into his pocket to pull out his flask to add a splash of brandy and came up empty.

"Renee, darling, would you be so kind as to...."

"No. You had enough. Time to give the liver a break, Jack."

He ran his fingers through his hair. "Ow. That hurts."

Briggs looked at him with his mother hen look. "I've been looking for ye all night, Jack. Tavern by tavern..."

"Brothel by brothel?"

"Don't be a wise-arse. I was worried."

"What, you are afraid I would go and get myself married again? I assure you, Quartermaster Briggs, that once was enough for me."

Jack eased into a chair at the kitchen table and took a sip of coffee. He grimaced.

"Gah!"

"What's the matter?" asked Renee.

"There's far too much coffee in this coffee."

"Shut up and drinking it, you big baby," she replied as she went back to buttering one of the scones.

Briggs sat down next to Jack, the wooden legs of the chair barking against the floorboards.

"Ssshhh!" said Jack "Sit quietly or not at all."

Briggs sighed. "I figured I'd find ye in this state. And no, I was fairly sure ye learnt your lesson about getting' married."

"Rest assured, that will never happen again. Once was enough."

"The faster ye forget about that woman, the better."

"Oh, no. There will be no forgetting or forgiving where Honour Bright is concerned. Not after stealing from me."

"Don't ye have more money than ye know what to do with as it stands?" asked Briggs.

"I don't give a damn about the money. She took something even more valuable. One of the keys to the chest."

"That gold relic chest? How the devil did she get her paws on that??"

"I... I gave it to her."

"You just gave it to her? Just like that?"

"Well, I didn't exactly know what it was at the time."

"If you gave it to her, she didn't steal it from you," added Renee. "I think you should call it a lesson hard learnt and get on with your life."

"No!" Jack said sharply. "No, I need it. I have to have it, or all the effort I put into finding the chest in the first place is wasted."

"What do ye plan on doin'?" asked Briggs.

"Josiah, if I have to tear the Caribbean apart grain of sand by grain of sand, I'm going to find her."

Jack and Briggs both jumped at the sound of a china plate smashing against the floor.

"Sorry, that was just stupid of me," apologised Renee as she stooped to pick up the broken plate and ruined scones. "I must have had some butter on my fingers."

Her face burned and she felt tears well up in her eyes. She turned her head so she could wipe them hastily away.

She stood up and faced Jack.

"Just why is it so all -important that you find this key? For God's sake, Jack! Hasn't the woman done enough to you? Have you no pride?"

Jack picked up his cup and hurled it against the wall, shattering it and putting a dent in the plaster.

Both Briggs and Renee jumped.

He said tightly, "Don't underestimate me. I'll burn her to the point she wishes she never had met Jack Wolfe."

With that, he stalked out of the room.

A heavy silence hung in the air. Renee stared at the door Jack had left through. After several long moments, Briggs decided to break that silence.

"Um, Renee," he said clumsily, "I'm sorry for Jack losin' his temper like he did. Ye know how many years he spent lookin' for that infernal chest, then to find he up and gave away one of the keys to it... Ye might say he has a right to feel foolish."

Renee looked at him and shook her head. "Men. You lot just can't see what's in front of you when it's big as day, can you?"

Briggs fidgeted with his cup. "I guess you're gonna have to tell me what I missed."

"It's not about any damned key, Josie. It's about her. Honour."

"I still don't follow."

Renee put the broken shards of plate into the basin and wiped her hands. "The key is just an excuse, dove. That's not why he's so all fired anxious to find her. It's because he still loves her."

Her eyes began to well with tears again as she looked at the doorway.

"A man doesn't get that mad over a lost key, even if it unlocked the Crown Jewels. No, Josie. He's still madly in love with her, and I suspect he always will be."

"I guess I'm missin' one more thing," Briggs said quietly.

"Probably. What is it this time?" she said, self-consciously wiping her eyes.

"That ye wish he'd never met Honour in the first place? 'Cause things might have been different 'tween the two of ye?"

Renee stared at Briggs, then swallowed hard as the tears forced their way back to the surface.

"Just go back to being a stupid man, would you?" she blurted, and hastily left the room.

Briggs looked down at his coffee cup. "Yes, ma'am," he said quietly. "I suppose that's best."

Jack came back in the room.

"Where's Renee?"

"Said she had some mendin' to do."

"Renee doesn't sew."

Briggs just shrugged.

"How long before El Lobo will be ready to sail?"

"The main mast is on order and the sails will be ready in about two weeks. The wood for the hull is bein' steamed and shaped. That's what ye get for havin' that custom-made hull. All in all, I expect three to four weeks and..."

"Not good enough."

"WHAT? Jack, as a shipwright, ye know these things take time and can't be rushed."

"Five days."

"What do ye mean, 'five days?'"

"I want her seaworthy and ready to clear the port in five days."

"Impossible."

"Sweeten the pot then. Give them a bonus.But I want to leave by Friday latest. Before she gets any further away from me."

"Obession isn't healthy, ye know. Just sayin'...."

Jack shot him a look.

"I should say goodbye to Renee."

"I say let her be. You can leave her a note."

He picked up his frock coat and put his hat on.

"I guess so. Let's go down to the docks and put a fire under Samuelson. Like it or not, we will sail by Friday.

Come hell or high water."

Briggs sighed and followed him out.

"Or both."

[Honour Bright]

Two weeks later--Port Royal

The Dark Vexation pulled into port two weeks later in Port Royal.

"Are you packed yet, Honour?"

"Yes, everything is in those three chests."

"You have enough funds to get to Wales?"

She ignored the one chest that was half full of Jack's guilders buried under her petticoats.

"Yes, I do. You know I am like a cat. I always land on my feet."

James put is arms around her, drawing her close.

"I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, James."

She laid her head against his chest and absent-mindedly played with the drawstring's lacings.

"I'll always be in your debt."

"I wish circumstances could be different, Honour."

"So do I, James. So do I."

"You will let me know how you are and that the baby is well?"

"I will. I will send word to you through Kate at the Varlet and Vixen."

She hesitated, "If...If things don't go the way they should...I mean, if I should...you know...what I mean is childbirth is natural but so is dying....well, I will make sure Megan writes to you."

James said sternly, "Let's not speak that way. You are young and healthy and before you know it, you will be a mama."

She smiled up at him.

"I can't thank you enough."

"Your passage is arranged on the Bonnie Glenn. Captain Underhill is my friend and he will make sure you arrive safely and are handed over to Megan.

"I'm sorry to be such a bother."

"No bother at all. As I said, maybe when this situation is behind you, we will talk about that trip around the world."

"I would like that."

But both of them knew it was an empty promise.

I'll get some crewmen and have your trunks delivered to the Bonnie Glenn."

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

"Captain Underhill? May I present Mary Carter--my cousin."

Captain Underhill bowed to her.

"A pleasure, ma'am. I have arranged for a cabin next to mine. We will tell the crew that you are my cousin so then you will be protected and no one will think the less of your reputation. Blake? A pleasure as always. Don't worry. She will be in good hands."

"That is why I asked you, Edmund. I am a friend in your debt."

They shook hands.

James turned to Honour.

"Well, this is it, darling. You take care of yourself and let me know when you become a mama."

She nodded. "James, I can't find the words....."

"I know."

Suddenly they were in each other's arms. He held her close and kissed her neck.

"I wish things had been different, Honour. I really do. As I said, I am not the marrying kind. But you came close. Oh, so close!"

She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with tears.

"I love you, James."

"I love you too, Honour."

He broke away from her.

"Mary Carter is now in your care and keeping, Edmund."

Underhill tipped his cap.

James gave her hand a squeeze, then turned to go.

Honour watched him leave, her heart heavy.

"Are you ready, Miss Carter?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

Wales never seemed so lonely.

[Honour Bright]

Megan anxiously scanned the gangplank of the ship Bonnie Glenn.

"I don't see her, Daffyd. What if something happened? What if she died at sea? What if..."

Daffyd clutched his wife's hand.

"Stop thinking the worst. There has to be a logical explanation as to why she hasn't left yet and....LOOK!"

Megan's hand flew to her mouth and her eyes filled with tears.

"Thank you, God!"

Rhiannon descended the gangplank on the arm of Captain Edmund Underhill.

Megan and Daffyd rushed to embrace her.

"My God, Rhiannon, I couldn't believe the letter we got that said you were coming home. Cryptic note that it was and now..."

Rhiannon clung to her sister for dear life as she began to cry.

Captain Underhill smiled as he said, "To be sure, I promised Captain Blake I would return her to her family. But as a formality, I must ask your names."

Daffyd shook his hand and said, "I am her brother in law Daffyd Llewellyn. This is my wife and her sister Megan."

To Rhiannon, Captain Underhill said, "You can verify their identities, Miss Carter?"

She nodded.

The captain tipped his hat and said, "That is good enough for me. I'll come around in a few days to call and make sure you are settled in. After all, I promised Captain Blake."

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

Megan and Rhiannon were seated in the garden at Bancroft Hall. The leaves were starting to turn but the air was warm to the breeze from summer's last gasp.

Megan poured the tea as she asked Rhiannon, "So....I don't know where to begin to ask you anything. Daffyd took the children to the park so we can have some privacy. All they know is that Aunt Rhiannon is here to stay for a while."

"They have grown so much in the two years I have been away, Megan."

"And no more dancing around the subject. Where have you been? My God, we were beside ourselves when we got that note from Father Simon telling us you decided to relocate to Barbados. Daffyd went down to the docks right away and no one would tell us anything. We were frantic! Dilys threatened to tear the dock master's office apart. Gwyneth tried to be the voice of reason and James took over and tried to find out what he could. Still nothing.

Rhiannon, do you have ANY idea what you did to us?"

Rhiannon hung her head and tried not to cry.

"I'm so sorry. Megan, I was so scared. I was afraid Henry would find me and have me tried for Madoc's murder."

She handed her sister a handkerchief. "Even Father's bullying and blustering got him nowhere. It was as if you were taken by the wind. Not a trace. But now you are home!"

Rhiannon found it hard to meet Megan's eyes. But her sister cupped her chin so she had to face her.

"Rhiannon, I think you owe it to me to tell me what you have been up to these past two years."

She nodded.

Softly, Megan said, "There is more to this than homesickness."

Rhiannon said quietly, "Megan...I--I'm going to have a baby."

Megan dropped her hand and put it to her mouth.

"Sweet Mother!"

Hastily, Rhiannon said, "It's not what you think, Megan. I---I'm married."

"Thank God! " she crossed herself. "But where is your husband then? Oh Lord, Rhiannon..I am so sorry!""

Rhiannon looked puzzled at her sister. "You....you think I am a widow?"

Her sister looked bewilderedly at her.

"But....where is he?"

Rhiannon sighed and said, "I guess I should tell you the whole story from the beginning."

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

"...and then I booked passage back to have the baby here in Wales."

"I must say, Captain Wolfe sounds like a right proper bastard. I am sure we can get the certificate of divorce or annulment here on the grounds of abadonment. Even though technically you abandoned him."

Rhiannon's eyes took on a faraway look.

"He had his heroic, shining moments, Megan. It wasn't....all bad. Just....never mind. I'd like to stay here until the baby is born and then go back to Barbados. I've secured a future for the baby and me. But it won't be for a couple years. Will Daffyd mind?"

"Of course he won't! And the children will be delighted with a little one here."

Honour hugged Megan and felt the tears of gratitude well up in her eyes.

"Megan, I'm so scared."

Megan held her sister close and said softly, "I know you are, sweetheart. But I'm here for you."

The sisters stood there with a bond known only to sisters.

"It's so good to have you home, Rhiannon."

She felt the tears slip down her face."It's so good to be home, Megan.

[Honour Bright]

September, 1654--Beaumaris, Wales

Honour looked out the window and sighed.

"It looks like the leaves are changing a bit early this year."

Megan looked up from her mending.

"It is the same time as it was last year, sweetheart. You have been away a while."

Honour let the drapes fall back in place.

"Yes, I know. I'm be twenty in April, Megan, and I feel like I have lived five lifetimes."

"Just think of the stories you can tell your children."

"Children. More than one. Megan, this may very well be my one and only child."

"Nonsense. You will get yourself free from that scoundrel. You should pass yourself off as a widow. Having a dissolved marriage--well, that is just unheard of in Beaumaris. Anywhere in the civilized world, as a matter of fact."

Honour sighed. "I suppose so. I feel like I am living one lie on top of another. If I ever am foolish enough to get married, I want a clean slate between my husband and me. I want financial security. I know what to d do, after being married to Madoc."

"No passion, Rhiannon? it sounds like a very lonely life."

Honour's eyes took on a faraway look as she gazed into the fireplace.

"I had the best," she said softly. "He never failed to make me glow. It wasn't even like that with.....never mind."

"Rhys?"

Rhiannon nodded miserably.

Megan put her mending aside. "You miss him."

"Yes, I do."

"I wish I could say his memory will fade but I am afraid every time you look at your child, you will think of him. Maybe even thank him for the parting 'gift' he left you with."

Well, when he is born, I hope I can think of only the happy times."

" 'He?' "

Honour looked puzzled, "Well, of course! I mean....this is the child of Mad Jack Wolfe. There is no doubt in my mind that this baby is a boy."

Megan laughed. "If you insist. I notice you seem to be wearing your clothes a bit looser."

"Only because they must have shrunk a bit."

Megan shook her head. "No, my precious. Babies take up a bit of room. Stand in profile."

Honour turned to the side. Megan walked around her and nodded,

"Yes, you are getting a bit of a baby bump."

She looked down. "You think so?"

"You were married in June. The baby got his start then. So..."

Megan counted on her fingers. "June...July...August...September...."

She wiggled four fingers. "Four months. That's about right."

Honour looked down. "Do you think I should get a few new dresses?"

"It won't do much good, Rhiannon. A woman who is enceinte will not have any social engagements. I just wore a dressing gown or my chemise alot."

Honour sighed. "I suppose you are right. When you have your little dinner parties, I will stay upstairs. Like the crazy relative you don't bring down for guests. As long as you don't ensconce me in the garret, Megan, I will stay in my room."

Megan gave her a hug.

"I will be glad when this is.....oooh! OH!"

Megan looked up at her, alarmed.

"What is it? A twinge of pain? Oh, please don't say that!"

Honour shook her head. "It's not that...it...it feels weird. Like I swallowed a butterfly or there are some champagne bubbles here."

She rubbed her stomach.

"There it goes again!"

Megan held her at arm's length and grinned.

"That, my darling, is your baby making its presence known!'

"You---you think?"

"The fluttering is the first little kicks the baby is making. "

Honour looked at her sister and felt tears well up in her eyes and a wistful smile on her face.

"I can't believe it! It makes me...." her voice trailed off.

"Makes you what, dear?" Megan said softly.

Honour wiped the tear that trickled down her cheek.

"It makes me almost wish Jack was here to share it. Oh, Megan! What if I made a huge mistake?"

Megan held her close and said, "Rhiannon, this child is a gift Jack Wolfe gave you. Hold on to that thought and it will get you through this."

"I will. I'll cherish this baby and be grateful that for a little while I knew contentment and love."

Megan blew her nose on her handkerchief.

"Megan, you are so found out!"

She laughed through her tears.

"Alright, so I am a fool for a silver lining in a thundercloud. Now let's go upstairs and get the Conaway cradle out of the attic!"

[The Doctor]

Late September, 1654 -- Castara Bay

Jack looked back at El Lobo del Mar.

"She's anchored safe and sound, Jack. Don't worry."

He sighed. "I know. Funny when things go wrong, you just expect the worst."

"Well, she's goin’ nowhere. What has you so jumpy and nervous anyhow?"

"The unknown. The last time I was in Castara...."

Josiah nodded. "Pleasant memories turnin’ unpleasant?"

Jack shrugged. "Something like that. I hate the thoughts of facing you-know-who."

"Everyone hates the thoughts of facing you-know-who."

Jack chuckled ruefully and then looked over the horizon.

"I want to thank you, Josiah."

"For what?"

"For helping me through this time. And for kicking me in the arse out of my self-pity."

"Wasn't me what did that. It was Renee. I was just along for the ride. She gave you a month to indulge and then told ye enough is enough."

"I can't deny it still hurts like hell, Josiah."

"I know."

"It wasn't all bad, you know...the memories. There for a brief, shining moment I knew..." he sighed.

Josiah nodded. "Don't forget that I loved and lost too, Jack. And lost a son in the process."

"I know. Listen to us. Pontificating on love won and lost. Not what is expected out of pirates, is it?"

"We do have our moments. But your secret be safe with me."

"The hard part of mine is wondering if it was all an act, Josiah. Did she love me? Or was it all an act to get what she could out of me? Is she out there laughing at my expense?"

Josiah shook his head. "I saw how frantic she was when she thought ye were dyin’ from the sniper. That’s the puzzlin’ part. Why she ran off with the chests."

"And why only a portion? I guess the only way I will get answers is to find her."

"Don't make it your life's ambition, Jack. If we come across her, we’ll find out. But don't make it the uppermost thing on your mind."

Jack sighed as he put the key into the warehouse.

"I know. Shall we see what is left of the swag?"

The heavy lock clacked open. Jack lifted it from the iron hasp and let it fall to the ground. He took a breath and swung the large doors open. They groaned on their hinges. As the men's eyes adjusted to the darkness, Josiah let out a low whistle that fairly echoed in the space. Jack's shoulders fell.

It was empty. Completely empty. Every last silver cup, every last stick of mahogany furniture had been removed. All that was left were the cobwebs in the rafters above and the sandy floor below.

And a note. Tacked to the first support was a piece of paper folded double, with the word "Thanks" scrawled on the outside. Jack pulled the paper free and began to read it aloud.

"'To Who It May Concern...' That would be me, I'm guessing," he said with a rueful laugh. "'Being as there is no one about to lead the smuggling operation as created by one Capt. J. Wolfe, we, the ship masters who signed on to said Company, hereby claim the contents of this warehouse as compensation for our loyalty and efforts. Loyalty that was not shown in return. We remain your faithful servants...' Oh, look at that, Josiah. They even signed their names. How bloody thoughtful!"

Jack wadded up the paper and hurled it at the back of the warehouse.

"That.... dog. That worthless mongrel I took and raised as my own flesh. Not only does he try and steal my wife, he stabs me in the back by abandoning the work I trusted him with!"

"Jack, ye knew walkin' into this Cade weren't worth trustin' nor expectin' much of. Don't go getting' all worked up over that pup."

Jack exhaled loudly and looked up at the roof of the warehouse. "You know, Josiah, you have a maddening way of ruining a good rant."

"Duckie told me to keep an eye one ye, so ye don't get your blood up too much. Ye spent over a month on one hell of a bender, and that ain't good for anyone, no matter how stout."

"I'll be sure to tell the good physician you made an excellent nurse." Jack kicked at the sand. "Well, I guess it's time to move on to the fun part of this journey. Talking to Bonita."

"I still don't know what ye expect that witch woman to tell ye," said Briggs. "Exceptin' that 'she told ye so' and what not."

"Oh, I fully expect her to throw recriminations at me, hot and heavy. But you know what you can get when you get a woman really, really angry?"

"Missin' teeth?"

Jack chuckled and shook his head. "No, my friend. You can get the truth."

The men trudged up the winding lane that ran parallel to the ocean, leading to the tavern only a few blocks from the harbour.

The tavern sign Le Loup swung in the breeze.

"At least it is still hanging," Jack noticed.

Josiah looked up.

"Yeah, remarkable for what it’s been through." He pointed up and it was then that Jack noticed it was riddled with bullet holes.

"Looks like someone took their frustration out on it. Hope it wasn't an effigy for me."

"Maybe it was Bonita."

"No, she has more...unusual ways of revenge. And the time I spent with that little Spanish senorita proved that Bonita hadn't cut any vital organs off her poppet. Renee had no cause for complaints, either."

Josiah put his hand on the door latch.

"Are ye ready to go in and face whatever is waitin’ on the other side of the door?"

"As ready as I ever will be."

"Then after you, Jack."

"Chicken."

"I'm glad you're with me, Josiah, so I don't have to face that woman alone."

"Oi! Did ye hear that?"

"Hear what? The angels in the firmament, perhaps?"

"The ship's bell! Must be somethin' urgent. I'll take care of it whilst ye talk with Bonita."

"You bloody coward!” laughed Jack as Briggs scurried down the path. “Fine! Run off then. I'll deal with her myself."

The door swung open, and Jack stepped out of the bright island sunlight into the dim confines of tavern. A few rays of light shone through the windows, illuminating the dust that hung in the air. No one was visible inside. He closed the door and walked toward the bar, pausing to drag a finger along one of the table tops. He looked disapprovingly at the layer of dust on his finger. While everything appeared to be in its place, it was obvious no one had been using the tavern, much less keeping it tidy.

“Bonita!” he called out loudly. “It’s me, Jack.”

He paused before calling again.

“Bonita! Where the hell are you? You’d better not have abandoned this island, too!” he yelled impatiently.

Just then, a woman came bustling out of the back room with a handful of rags. She wore a dress similar to the style Bonita wore, but in bright, mismatched colours. Her hair was haphazardly piled up on her hair, tied in place with a battered red ribbon that really should have been in with the rags.

“Who be yellin’ dey head off? Can’t him see Drusilla is busy?” she answered.

“Jack Wolfe, owner of this place. And just who are you?”

“Drusilla. Didn’t him hear me say dat just a second ago?”

Jack sighed. What was already a bad day was taking an annoying turn. “Yes, I heard you. But that doesn’t tell me who you are or why you’re here. And where is Bonita?”

“Ooh, him got lots of questions! Bonita left de island weeks ago. She leave Drusilla in charge of everyt’ing. She trust Drusilla ‘cause we be cousins. We like dis, all our lives.” She held up her hand and crossed her fingers.

“All right, then,” said Jack as he walked to the bar. He took one of Drusilla’s rags and wiped the counter before leaning on it. “When is she due back? I have questions for her.”

“Oh, Bonita not comin’ back. Not never. Bonita made Drusilla de boss of dis whole island.”

“Did she now? Funny, it’s not her island to give away.”

“Well, listen to him, actin’ like him own de place!”

“That’s because I do, dear.”

Drusilla’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Him dat Jack Wolfe.”

“Yes, I’m that Jack Wolfe. And you’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

“Drusilla don’t tell no lies!”

“But she does tell lies. Big ones.” He pointed to a reddish satin bag that sat atop a low box that was pushed up against the wall behind the bar. Embroidered on it was a large cursive letter B.

“That,” he continued, “is Bonita’s. And I know what’s in there. Something she would never, ever leave behind. Not even for a day.”

“Whatever him t’ink it is, him wrong,” Drusilla said uneasily.

“No, I’m not wrong. That’s Bonita’s most cherished possession. Her bones. The ones her tia gave her. The ones she uses to see with.”

“Bonita gave dem to Drusilla. Bonita not de only one with de Sight!”

Jack waved his hand dismissively. “Now what I want to know is, why is Bonita hiding from me?”

[The Doctor]

“Bonita not hiding! She gone from de island. Family t’ings to take care of!”

“Family? Aside from her sainted aunt, she’s never mentioned family. Not even you,” said Jack, making sure those last words came across pointedly.

Drusilla’s face fell. “Not... not even Drusilla? But, we cousins. Blood relations!”

“Well, that’s Bonita for you, Drusilla,” he said loudly, almost as if he were addressing a courtroom. “You’re only as important to her as what you can provide at the moment.”

“Dat not true!”

“Isn’t it, though? Bonita is guilty as anyone when it comes to using people. Manipulating them. As long as you’ve got something she needs, she’ll tolerate you. Let me ask you a question; why would Bonita need your help now? Why not when this was a bustling port with a constant stream of sailors coming through that door? I mean, look around! There’s no one here. She hasn’t even bothered to dust the tables in weeks, nor have you. So she’s up to something. And whatever it is, you can bet she’ll brush you aside the moment you’re no longer useful to her.”

Jack paused and looked Drusilla squarely in the eyes.

“I should know,” he said in earnest tones. “That’s what she did to me.”

“LIAR!!!” a voice shrieked from the curtained storage area just behind the bar. Bonita nearly tore the curtain down as she emerged to confront her accuser.

“Bonita!” smiled Jack. “Back so soon from your little trip?”

“How dare Jack Wolfe say dem t’ings about Bonita, after all her done for him d’ese many years?” she spat.

“And sweet nothings would have lured you out of hiding? I doubt that.”

“Bonita, him wouldn’t believe nothing Drusilla say. Drusilla tried to make him go away, just like Bonita wanted!”

Drusilla was very animated as she tried to apologise to her cousin. As she spoke, her piled-up hairdo bobbed this way and that, making the tattered red bow holding it all together flutter like a pennant in a storm. Jack found it nearly impossible to tear his eyes from it.

“Drusilla need to shut up,” growled Bonita. “Her not a help den, her not a help now!”

“So what Jack Wolfe say about Bonita were de trut’! Her do use people up and t’row dem away!” The bow continued its dizzying flutter.

Bonita’s mouth fell open at her cousin’s accusation. “Drusilla getting t’ings twisted up inside her head again! Her know what Bonita be like. And her know what Bonita be like when Bonita get angry.”

Drusilla’s mouth practically snapped closed. She swallowed hard and nodded her head vigorously in the affirmative, the bow valiantly keeping up with this change in direction. Silently, she backed away a respectful distance from her cousin.

“So that’s what seasickness feels like,” Jack said as he pinched the bridge of his nose and blinked.

“Now for de great Jack Wolfe,” Bonita continued, her tone cold as ice.

“Oh, don’t start with me, Bonita,” he countered. “You know I’m not here on a social call. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been hiding in the cupboard like a guilty scullery maid.”

“Den why him here? It can’t be because him want to listen to Bonita, since him don’t need Bonita now dat him have de golden-haired girl.” A cruel smile curled her lips. “Or had her, til she run away.”

“Fine, let’s get the gloating out of the way,” Jack grumbled. “So you know about Honour. Good for you. But right now I’m more interested in the whereabouts of Cade.”

“Because maybe, if him find Cade Jennings, him find de girl too?”

“Nice try. I expected you to goad me, but it’s not going to work. Not this time. I have it on good authority that Cade was still in port at least a day after Honour vanished. So you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Den what is it Jack Wolfe need from Bonita?”

“Information.”

“Bonita don’t know what t’ings go on all de way up in Barbados...”

“The kind of information that only you can provide, Bonita.”

The dark woman grinned at him. “Him need Bonita’s Sight again? Maybe her read de cards, like old times?”

Jack nodded contritely.

“Dis going to cost Jack Wolfe. Him get not’ing for free from Bonita. Not anyt’ing. Not any more.”

“Fine.” He unhitched a leather pouch from his belt and tossed it onto the bar. It made a solid thud as it landed, and the sound of coins - lots of them - could be heard as they clinked against one another.

Bonita picked up the pouch and hefted it in her hand.

“Dat will do, for dis time,” she pronounced as she tucked the pouch away under the bar.

She brought up another pouch, this one made of green velvet, and pulled from it her deck of tarot cards. She gazed at Jack as she shuffled the cards and gave a slight smile. The situation had changed, and she held the advantage. And she enjoyed the feeling.

[The Doctor]

Jack shifted uncomfortably as he watched Bonita shuffle the cards. He didn’t trust her, but he’d benefited from the uncanny accuracy of her second sight too many times to disregard one of her special readings. Her last card reading certainly came to pass. Perhaps, since she had foreseen the current situation, she could divine the conclusion and his certain success?

Bonita dealt out five cards, all face down. Each one was laid down with a loud slap of the card against the wooden countertop.

“Him sure him want Bonita to read what dese cards have to say about him life, him future?”

“I’m not doubling the payment, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”

“Dere be no shame in second t’oughts, cher. Bonita just making sure him serious.”

“Just read the cards, please,” he said wearily. “I’ve had enough melodrama as it is.”

“As him wish,” she said with an oily smile. She flipped the first card and laid it down with a slap.

“De Seven of Swords,” she announced. “Someone have stolen much from Jack Wolfe. Valuable t’ings.”

“I see you brought out the ‘state the bleeding obvious’ deck instead of the fortune telling one.”

“Were him robbed from or were him not?” she demanded.

“Yes, damn it, I was robbed. The whole Caribbean knows Honour stole a small ransom from me!”

“Bonita not talking about de golden-haired child. She talking about young Cade Jennings.”

“Well, I suppose you could say he’s stolen from me as well. Stolen time, effort, trust, and a large portion of my credibility.”

“Cade take more from Jack Wolfe t’an him realize. Let us see what de next card say.”

She flipped the next card. It showed a man hanging from a tree by his ankle. “De Hanged Man,” she intoned.

“If that’s supposed to be Cade, the rope would be better suited around his neck,” said Jack.

“Dis card represent Jack Wolfe, not Cade.”

Jack gave a disgusted sigh. “Of course it does. What does it mean?”

“It mean him will gain much knowledge, but only after great sacrifice.”

“I’ll take my chances. I always do.” He rapped his knuckles impatiently on the countertop. “Next card. What’s this one mean?”

“Dis be what him searches for, or what him should be searching for...”

She turned the card and fought the urge to smile.

“Oh, no. No, it can’t be,” said Jack as the blood drained from his face.

“De Lovers,” intoned Bonita. scarcely hiding the satisfaction in her voice.

“But, that’s not possible. She left port at least a full day before Cade did. They are not together. She wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Dat not be what de cards reveal.”

Jack sat silently, his jaw clenched tight in frustration. “Then God help them should I ever find them,” he finally growled.

“De next card will show what him should do, what action him must take.”

“Show me, then.”

She turned the card over and tapped it with a long fingernail. “De Nine of Wands.”

“What, I’m supposed to go and gather sticks now?”

“Dis card show dat Jack Wolfe will face much difficulty, much strife in him search for de two what have stolen so much from him. De ones what broke him heart. De task will seem impossible, but him must never give up, no matter de cost. Because only him success in finding dem will bring to fruition de last card to be read.”

Jack watched intently as she turned over the last card. “Judgement,” she intoned.

“Mine, or theirs?”

“Dis be de judgement Jack Wolfe bring upon de two what have brought him so much pain and humiliation. When him find dem at last, him enemies will fall and Jack Wolfe will be restored.”

“So, all I have to do is find them? That’s it?”

“It will not be easy. Dere will be much searching, much opposition. And him can never give up, if him want de justice him desire.”

A cold fire seemed to blaze in Jack’s eyes. “Fine. Opposition and I are old friends. But I will find them if I have to tear the Caribbean apart in the process. Now if I only knew where to start looking. Your cards can’t tell me that, though. Or can they?”

“De cards reveal much, but not where him should search. But de bones can.”

“How much more will that cost?”

“Bonita see how much pain Jack Wolfe in. She read de bones as a favour to an old friend.”

She picked up the bag and dumped the chicken bones into her palm. Then she closed her eyes, and with the bones enclosed by her hands, she muttered something softly, words that Jack had never been able to understand. Bonita then cast the bones on the countertop. Her eyes flew open, and she began to scrutinise the bones and their positions.

“Bonita cannot say for certain where de be exactly,” she said, with a note of frustration in her voice. “But it be to de nort’. De islands of de nort’ern Caribbean.”

“That narrows it down a bit,” replied Jack. “Bonita, I thank you for the help. I’d love to stay and chat, but as you said I have a lot of work ahead of me. So there’s no time like the present to get started. Good day, ladies!”

Bonita smiled as Jack quickly left the tavern, headed back to the docks. As she picked up the chicken bones, she began to chuckle.

“Why Bonita laugh after the mean trick she just pull on him?” asked Drusilla. “Her not very nice at all!”

“Drusilla not know what she talking about, again.”

“Drusilla know enough the her see Bonita put cards on de bottom of de desk after she finish shuffling, den her deal from de bottom!”

“So?” countered Bonita. “Jack Wolfe got what him looking for. It not matter to Bonita if it real or not. Him has it coming, anyway.”

“And what about de bones? Were dat de trut’? Because Bonita always say de bones no lie.”

Bonita gave her cousin a defiant glare. “De bones no lie. Not ever. But Bonita do.”

Jack was walking as fast as his boots would carry him as he arrived back at the pier. Briggs was enjoying his pipe when he caught sight of his friend and captain.

“Blimey,” he muttered. “I’ve seen that look before.”

“Prepare to cast off!” shouted Jack at the ship. He stopped next to Briggs and sighed. “Please don’t give me that look, Josiah.”

“And which look would that be?”

“That ‘Jack’s got that wild-eyed look about him again’ look you just gave me.”

“And would I be wrong?”

Jack looked out at the open water. “They’re out there, Josiah. Together. Bonita saw it.”

“Bloody hell. I was prayin’ that wouldn’t be the case. Are ye sure?”

“Bonita is never wrong with these things. You know that.”

“So what plan have ye got?”

“Plan? My plan is to tear the entire Caribbean apart if I have to in order to find them.”

“Jack, I know ye have plenty of reasons to want to settle the score, but to try and hunt them down like this? Based on what? More of Bonita’s ‘impressions’?”

“I’m fine with chasing after her impressions, Josiah. After all, a footprint doesn’t look like a boot!” With that, Jack turned on his heel and walked toward the ship.

“And just what do ye plan to do after ye find them, Jack?” Briggs called after him.

“You can guess what I’ll do to Cade. As for Honour, I’ll tie her to the mast until I get that key from her.”

“Aye, that sounds about right.”

Jack turned and began walking up the gangway. “And then, I’ll make love to her one last time,” he said quietly.