Port Royal, Jamaica

[Capt. Sterling]

With not much more than a stern look of reprimand, Andrew March give his head a nod toward the door. The younger, with a deep breath of determination made his way to the door... ever so slowly.

"Stop draggin yer heels Josh," Mr. Merriweather the elder whispered loud enough for the others to hear as he grabbed his little brother tightly by the arm and ushered him along. "I've a treat in my pocket, you can give it to Michael...."

Josh, trying to shake off his brother's grip, looked at him in disbelief. "A treat? Give to him? The great monster will be all over me. Are you daft? Michael's even taller than the captain.... and the gunner's mate! And there ain't no one taller than him!"

It was the elder's turn to roll his eyes. "You exggerate as always!"

"I do not!" Joshua snapped, finally twisting himself free of the other's hold. "When was the last time you were out with Michael?"

"I have no trouble with him!" the elder said, his tone superior as they reached the exit.

"So say you, Sean," the younger snorted. He adjusted his coat as his brother opened the door.

"Be off with you then and don't tarry along the way!" Sean said this time making the point that all should hear. Mr. Hazzard had to turn to hide the smile on his face.

Once again the younger rolled his eyes, "With Michael, I've only see the Captain able to tarry, and mind you, he can't manage that often either!!!"

The elder, with smirk fastened upon his young features, pushed his brother outward and slammed the door shut in his face.

[Cheeky Actress]

Lilly motioned to good doctor as he quickened his approach to the coach. “Come now!” She said in a demanding tone. “My Sweet Captain lay unattended. We need to make sure that he’s not dying at this very moment!” With a deep sigh, Reiley turned and looked up into the coach. “Mistress, we must do take care upon our approach. As my friends did state these individuals who live past the cane fields are not one for company or outsiders.” She huffed again, looking disappointed. “We must have a plan, Mistress.” Reiley gave her a wink of his eye. “Not to worry though. By the time I get there, I shall have such a cunning plan…you will be able to serve it with a spoon!”

[Ransom]

As I reined the carriage horse to a stop near the docks, I was met by Goose's sniveling whine.

"Where've ya been, Captain? Crew been worried sick, what with no word these many hours. Thought ya mighta been caught up in that nasty business over to the Shipp Tavern. Place all busted up, we heard." As he paused to catch his breath, Goose cocked an eye at my mode of transportation. "Where'd ya get the nag?"

I slid from the mount and tossed the long lines, which Goose caught with much fumbling. With a grin, I said, "I know all about the nasty business at the Shipp. I helped contribute to it. Had to lay low for awhile. Is Ioan back with Morgan's reply?"

That question made Goose's already prune-like face pucker the more. "Eh, well, as it stands, no, he aint."

"Why the devil not? He should have been back hours ago." Ioan's absence did not bode well. "Did any of you dolts think to go look for him? Has he been arrested, or slouched off to some brothel? Speak, man!"

"No! No...I mean, yes, Jimmy Cox and Africa went lookin' fer him. Jimmy says Ioan be still waitin' at Admiralty Court, as he was told old Morgan be not at home."

"Sittin on his arse in that wagon all day?" This would not do. Morgan could be anywhere, and I had no desire to go looking for him all over Port Royal. I couldn't help but believe that his cronies on the docks would have run to him with news of the cannon when we unloaded it. If he knew of it, and had done nothing, then something wasn't right.

Obviously reading the rising tide of anger in my expression, Goose driveled on, "Well, Ioan told Jimmy as how he didn't feel right leavin' the cannon unguarded in the courtyard. Who's ta say what might befall it? So, he woudn't budge. Still sittin' there, sa far as I know."

Heading for the Rakehell, I snapped, "Take that horse into town. Tie it to the rail of the first tavern you come to. Let it's owner find it. When you're done, get back to the ship."

"Aye, Captain." Looking grateful at the chance to escape the eye of the hurricane, Goose started to trot off, leading the carriage horse. But he haulted, looked at my head and said with pity, "Shame about yer hat, Captain."

"To blazes with my hat! Get on with you!" I yelled.

Two pairs of eyes rolled and showed their whites, as Goose and horse jogged away.

I marched on board, went below, slammed the door with an oath, and threw the ruined hat into a corner. I then removed the soiled frock coat and breeches, replacing them with plain breeches, an everyday bodice of green linen, and a short coat of dull brown. Instead of a hat, I tied my hair back with a green and gold scarf of East Indian silk. Back on deck, I signaled to Africa, a blackamoor former slave who had chosen to sail with me when I took possession of the Rakehell.

I'm going back into town. If and when that Welsh bastard, Ioan, returns, tell him that I ORDER him to stay on board until I get back. Understand!"

Africa nodded, then said in a voice soft for so large a man, "Bad doin's in town. Best be ware."

"Well, if I catch up with that actress, her clumby friend, or a certain smug fop, the bad doin's are going to get worse. A lot worse!"

Africa gave me a knowing smile then turned back to his duties.

[Reginald Killingsworth]

Killingsworth awoke in a groggily state. His head was tender after his bender the night before. The empty wine bottles scattered at the side of his bed only proved to him that he partook a bit much than normal. Even with his head in its’ current state, this did not let this stop him from crawling from his bed and resuming his work. The day was well into late afternoon. Had he truly drank that much? Before he collapsed into his bed last night, he remembered eyeing the dark stranger late in the evening. The dark, sly stranger entered the bar and snuck passed the crowd and quickly found his Molly. The two of them did not stay long after that. The dark stranger whisked the maid away to a small room upstairs thinking no one had seen them…except for Killingsworth. The thought of this put Killingsworth into a fowl mood. This person showed no respect to him when he arrived at The Shipp, nor did he help matters when he left the mocking note for him and delivered in place of Molly and his dinner. This creature was now a throne of contention for Killingsworth. His mind pushed forward as he began to ponder methods of ill-intent. “He mocked me.” He whispered to himself as he dressed for the evening. “How dare he forget his station!” Again, a snort came from him as he threw on his coat and headed downstairs for something to eat.

As Killingsworth came down the back stairwell he found Molly nestled in a tiny corner of the kitchen, standing before the work table in bare feet and a simple wool dress. She takes out an apple, some cheese and a knife and lays them on the counter. The kitchen was quiet and it appeared that Molly was left to her own affairs. As she goes back to fetch herself some fresh baked bread, she turns about to see Master Killingsworth standing near the back stairs. “My word…such a lovely sss-ssite?” He muttered softly.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Just beyond the main house existed a small ravine divided by the snaking switch back of shallow stream. Bordering water's choreography were simple, but well made structures of those beyond the talons of service. The burble of stream flow harmonized with trinkets suspended on porch overhangs, pirouetting at gentle breeze command. Here dwelled those of age or handicap in tranquility, grateful that their time in the hot Jamican sun was now something of choice and not expectation. There were fifteen buildings in all, snugged between sturdy trunkes of native tree, the boughs and fonds aiding in shelter against orb rising to glare steadfast on terra firma.

The black mount picked its' footing nimbly while crossing liquid expanse and without direction turned to gain the proximity of specific wood palace where a small basket tempted with overflow of mango. Sabastian reined in, eyeing shanty and open doorway that gaped like empty maw. Papillion was assisted down to soft turf, but he kept his seat somewhat hesitant of what the summons might entail. There were practices contained in structure's unintimidating aperance that may have been considered kindred to his own beliefs, but there were aspects of it that were unsettling to his conditioned senses.

A voice lured from within, it's owner unseen. It's texture always made him think of dry leaves fallen and caught in cyclonic Autum zephers; like aged parchment crumble in wretching clench. Again the voice sounded,

" Why you gon' keep your elders waitin', boy? Ant not'in here gon' bite..."

He slyed a look to Papillion, who acted as if he were not there as she offered basket bounty to the Noir. Slowly swinging from lofty perch, the soft soled boots struck firmer ground; stirring dust into breeze grasp.

"What you stan'in' round for, boy?" The ancient voice taunted, a small intertwine of humor threading its' stern overlay. " I gon' be ded an wisked away like dat dust you be kickin' up iffin you don' hurry along."

Her last wordings brought discomfort to the pit of his soul. The disembodied voice's owner had not seen anything in years...she was blind.

"Daydreamin' of dos' pretty town gales, got no time for dem that be not pleasin' to yer seeing senses?"

Sabastian stepped lightly upon porch surface which emitted tiny creak in response. "A dey come...you be jus' as wrinkled up as me and den dos lil gales will not be givin' you no mind..." A ripple of laughter bounced the dim holdings within.

He crossed the thresh hold, removing the hat of plummed splender and dropping his vision to flooring in respect.

"Don' you jus' look de charming prinz, der boy? All spiffed up in fancy trapes...You come 'ave a seat now and listen good to what I has to say. Listen wit' yer soul and heart cause de ear can lie..."

Sabastian's eyes adjusted slowly and with careful tread, found an old chair in which to sit. The air inside walled border was opresive still, regardless of the utilitarian window cover's movement. A single candle burned close to where she sat; giving of just enough lumination to hint at the Vodoun Woman's face. Defussed light and shadow danced as oddly paired partners over the gaunt, wrinkled features and sunken lids hidding useless orbs.

"Two night's ago, Ol' Man Owl come to me an' sit on dat ledge," One boney finger was raised in indication of the where window cover continued its struggle with the breeze. "An he speak to me of tings dat concern you an yours, boy. Las' night, I have a dream..." Her laughter sounded again, but berift of its' former amusement. "I see t'ree blackberds an' two udders who don' call dis island native, perched up in de knarl of de banyan. Two dem berds be wearin' crowns, behin' de one wit'out be anot'er berd dat not be like dem in soot feather. Anudder small berd wit flame hue..."

The single flame wavered almost to extinguish then regained stregnth, and her aged voice continued, "Dis odder berd be bigger den de t'ree and dey all four be watchin' de ground below. Slinking in an about dat ol' tree be a pack a hounds beyin' an snappin'. Dat flame berd keep tauntin' dem ol hounds an keep gettin' bolder by droppin' lower in de. Dem ol hounds keep jumpin an one manage to steal crown from one de sooty berds an scattle while anudder one he grab dat pritty red berd and pull em down. Now der be t'ree blackberd an dey odder one left up inna banyan...Dem hounds go away, chasin' de fir's one..."

Momma Rose leaned forward, "But dem ol' hounds will be back, now....An' now dey got de taste for dem in'na banyan ...."

She grew silent and momments passed with the quiet so heavy as to weigh down the breath in his lungs.

"You go on home now, pretty prinz....Takes care of yours....Dem hounds be comin'...."

***********************************************************

Aurore woke with a start, her heart raced and she raised suddenly as if confused to her surroundings.

[Capt. Sterling]

Joshua Merriweather stuck his tongue out at the broad wooden planking of the door that had just separated him from his older brother. Eight year olds! Too young for many a captain's midshipman, but still taken into keeping on board the Archangel. He sighed, his entire body moving with the effort of exhaling. He turned and looked toward where he and Merriweather the elder were currently berthed with Mr. Hazzards and .... he shuddered... Michael.

With a disgusted frown, plastered to his young face, he thought to go explore elsewhere. But folks seemed honestly upset that the captain had gone missing, and Mr. Hazzards wasn't beyond turning either boy over his knee for a good spanking. So, he shoved both hands into miniature navy blue frockcoat's pockets and took his first step.

Both he and his older brother Sean, had been taken into the Archangel's crew when Sterling had returned from captivity in Africa. Their father, taken several years prior to Sterling's capture, had done his best to try and keep the young captain alive... his stubbornness proving a costly inconvenience. Merriweather senior, mortally wounded in a building accident, consented to Sterling's promise to help the man's family as best he could if ever he made his escape. And when Sterling was ransomed some months later, he had been good to his word.

A letter and Mr. March had been sent round to Mistress Merriweather with the sad tidings of the loss of her husband. In a week's time the brothers had been taken out, provided with kit from the captain's own purse and installed into the Archangel's daily routine. It would be several months before they actually saw their new captain and patron... his captivity had taken its toll, it would take time before he was ready to put back to sea.

Mr. Merriweather the younger, now stooped to pick up a stick. After several lunges and reposts, he slowly continued on his way. If there had been a picket fence, he surely would have taken the time to run his stick along it making the customary clatter as it struck each post. Fortunately there was not and Port Royal was only slightly less noisy because of the lack of one.

As he reached the Nag’s Head, which thank God was only a fifteen minute stroll away, the boy looked up toward the far corner window. He could already imagine Michael peering through the window pane, staring down at him. Another deep breath. Another adjustment of the fine navy blue frockcoat and an extra minute or so of inspection of gray silk waistcoat, and the boy finally made his way inside and up the stairs.

He hesitated on the landing but not too long…perhaps it really wasn’t another fifteen minutes after all, before he made his way to the door to his room. He braced himself, his hand slowly settling on the latch. He closed his eyes as a growl came from within.

“Oi Michael, you ugly beast, tis I,” Joshua announced as he pushed open the door. In the next instant the lad lay on his back, half in the room, half out, as Sterling’s Irish Wolfhound easily knocked him flat in his happiness to see the boy and began licking his face.

[Ransom]

On my way into town, I passed Goose returning to the ship. He pulled a forelock at me, then scooted past. I ignored the idiot. When I reached the Shipp Tavern, out of curiosity, I peeked in to see what damage had been done. The place was a shambles still, but three servants were in the process of cleaning up the debris. Yet, despite the mess, the smell of cooking food came from the back room, reminding me that I hadn't eaten in many hours. A half-dozen other patrons had braved the turmoil and sat enjoying a hearty breakfast.

I entered and approached the harried barkeep. "Can I get a meal?"

He gave me an exasperated glare, as if he had enough trouble to deal with without having to serve up food as well. "Yes, but good luck finding a table with four good legs to put your tray on."

"Send out what you've got, and I'll deal witht the table," I remarked. "And a tankard of ale to wash down whatever swill I end up with."

He bridled at that. "Par-don, my lady," he drawled, "but I don't serve no swill at the Shipp. It's good cheese, hot bread, and spicy pepper sausage you'll be getting. Will that suit?"

"Admirably," I replied. He handed me a full tankard, and I retreatd to the back of the room, righted a table and chair, and made myself comfortable.

[Capt. Sterling]

Aurore woke with a start, her heart raced and she raised suddenly as if confused to her surroundings.

His sleeping habits were eccentric to begin with, often sleeping days at a time then switching to barely more than twenty minutes at a turn. He had been known to sleep through two men fighting within five feet of his head, to rising swiftly when a strange creaking in the rigging made his ear. Aurore’s abrupt movement only served to bring Sterling fully awake instantly, his hand habitually reaching for the hilt of his sword, which proved to be no where in close proximity. He looked frantically about him and spied her beside him in the bed.

His heart thumbing madly, it did not take him long to recall how she had gotten there. If he had, had the time he most likely would have blushed. Instead he could see the apprehension in her eyes. He thought to reach for her but suddenly felt awkward and did not wish to cause her further alarm, so he eased himself toward her in case she wished to find comfort from him.

“What is it?” he asked. “Is all well Lady?”

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Aurore's brow furrowed briefly and then smoothed as she refocused on him. "Rien..."

She offered a soft touch to his near cheek before raising from the deep sink of padded clutch, crossing to the open window and looking downward. She searched the surround finally finding what was sought and called down, careful to not expose current state of dress.

"Monsieur Delaney..."

The man in question paused current labors to sheild his eyes from the brightening light, "Aye, Mistress?"

" Be so kind as to have water prepared and the copper tub brought here when temperature is correct. Merci, monsieur."

Her dark eyes followed Delaney's trek until out of sight then she turned.

Visually she caressed Sterling's form momentarily, then rejoined him on mutable surface. Aurore's movements were calcultated in their intentions, and as they met face to face, the smile of former nature returned.

"It will take some time for your bath to be readied..."

[Capt. Sterling]

She was so close, he could have leaned forward and gently touched the tip of his nose to hers. He almost did, but thoughts regarding her finding him childish, prohibited him. But her words, there was no mistaking her intent... all too rapidly the urge inside him stirred.

"Aye? Will it then?" he whispered and pulled her to him.

Edited January 31, 2009 by Capt. Sterling

[Reginald Killingsworth]

An uncomfortable feeling settled on Molly quite quickly. “Here, you shouldn’t be here. I will catch it if they find ye back here with me!” She then turned and continued with making her meal. “Come now, how would the othersss-ss know?” He said walking up behind her, just inches from her. “Hungry?” She said trying to brush off his arrogant manner. “I can fix ye something before supper starts.” Killingsworth picks up a lock of hair. “Perhaps ye fancy a little meal yourssself?” Molly could feel him at her, but she tried to ignore him, that was until he grabbed the green apple from her reach. “Ye were ssss-sspose to service me last night.” He whispered as he moved closer to her, forcing her to walk backwards towards the wall. “Why do thee waste thy time with that foreign creature? Pity.” With that Killingsworth took up the knife from the table and cuts the apple into a small slice. “We could have had a moment or two…fancy me with thee.” His words were soft and had a sing-songy tone to them as he tried to seduce her with a slice, tracing it along her lips. Molly looked at Killings worth with surprise, but yet she stood her ground. “He’s good to me. He treats me well enough.”

“Well then, if I have a coin or two for thee this evening, can I expect ye to serve me sss-ssupper thissss night?” He said with a smile, once again placing the apples slice to her lips. Molly’s patients became short and her temper finally got the best of her. "Ya great fop, are ye trying to sss--ssseduce me? Do you think I'd part with me SSSSSSabastain for the likes of a sssstuttering ssssod like ye?"

Killingsworth’s eyes narrowed. His face now was flushed with crimson. His ill-fitted temper now got the best of him. “You little trollop!” He muttered in a harsh whisper. It was then he pressed Molly hard up against the wall. “You shall know thy place and never mock yours betters! It was then Killingsworth quickly covered her mouth so she could not scream out. In a fury of hate, he assaults her mouth with his hand with much force. As she was forced against her will, he took her by surprise. Slowly he penetrated her with the knife just where her rib cage parted over her heart…then the knife plunged deeper in again. Molly clawed at Killingsworth’s coat and hair for only a few moments. Soon her lifeless body lay upon the kitchen floor. As he looked down at the lifeless body of Molly, he pulled from his pocket a small black feather in which he had pulled from his hat earlier in the hour. Softly, he placed it upon the bloodied breast of the poor gal and then Killingsworth escaped quietly up the back staircase from which he came.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The breeze wafting thru open wall portal playfully stroked exposed skin as they lay in quasi lucid state. His nearness gave Aurore a sense of comfort and security unknown to her. Things that in their awakening were both welcome and frightening. Demons and angels whispered to inner hearing, speaking of bold venture and caution. Ignoring both councilorships, she nuzzled closer against his warmth.

Some hidden avian balladier colored outdoor expanse with the rise and dive of intricate serenade, lulling her closer to sleep. The easy rhythm of his breathing lulled her futher and as consciousness made for full departure, a quiet rap sounded on chamber door.

Aurore's eyes opened and inwardly she cursed the disruption. Carefully untangling herself from his embrace, digarded bed linen was quickly retrieved and adorned. The door was opened slightly and she regarded the slight form of her aid de camp. The young gerl's cheeks were tinctured rose and she seemed as though unable to meet eye contact.

"Oui?"

" The water is ready, Mistress..."

"Very good and thank you, Megan. If you would, give me a few moments before bringing all here."

"Yes, Mistress."

The door was closed softly and she turned to see Sterling watching her. Aurore smiled with a hinted mischief to his appraisal.

[Capt. Sterling]

He watched her as she peeked cautiously around the door's edge, sheet gathered up before her, covering her form and hanging all too provocatively abaft. In just a few hours his entire life had taken a completely different tack... something he had never expected nor even sought after. He had taken her twice now, the first a flurry of needs and overwhelming passion, the second, both free to explore and learn as well as giving to the act of pleasure. He was satisfied and yet not …In a word, he was thunderstruck and he wanted more…

He sat up as she spoke regarding his upcoming bath. Something he certainly needed and yet he felt himself at a bit of a loss, he was not ready to wash the feel of her skin from his. He moved his legs over the edge of the mattress as she closed the door again and turned back toward him.

“And what would you have me do Lady?” he asked, dropping his style of speech to something less patronizing and hoping her reply would be as tantalizing as his current thoughts.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Aurore stood motionless, but for the fall of linen, lufting downward to pool about her ankles, "Comment....pour? Quelle affaire?" She stepped closer to where he sat, voice lowering to soft texture, "Pour desir et plasir? Je voudrais..." She raised a brow and leaned to his ear, voice dropping to a whisper with proximity.

At that same moment, as large hand hammered copper basin was hefted indoors of quiet domicile, two riders set out from differing origins. Both intent on the same destination; both at break neck speed. One passing horse drawn vehicle and its two passengers, the other over cane field and around those that kept it.

[Capt. Sterling]

He sat quietly listening to her proposal, his imagination whirling with her words. It would have been enough just for her breath that tickled his ear as she spoke. Already his hands were about her slender waist, fingers not to be still in one place. As she leaned back slowly and smiled at him, one hand slipped up to entangle in her hair and pull her throat to his lips.

He broke from her quickly. The banging of metal on the banister and the thump of feet and grunts of men baring tub and water, caused him to bend and fetch the discarded sheet. He covered her, then fetched his breeches. He threw himself into the black velvet but not without another kiss.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

The expected knock on door's burnished wood reset the room's mood. Entrance was granted, soon followed by the sluggish procession of pall bearers of copper brilliance. It was settled heavily afore empty hearth, the cool water contained within the lower third sloshing in accompniment. Delaney was the only one in the number that dared cast a glance beyond where Aurore stood to the Englishman, and that was for the briefest of moments.

Then began the relay of hot water from a large cauldron standing where spit had the night before. It was delivered with steadfast action and as five and ten minutes passed into history, the large polished vessel sat at full capacity and the room regained its' former peace with the closure of door. Near at hand stood a small table now ladden with cheese, bread and local fruit. The four poster bed had regained its' noble vissage with fresh linen and all put to rights. The only thing left in evidence of former chaos was the linen mantle that Aurore kept as shroud.

"As you requested, everything with the exception of tome to read. But that can be rectified as well...If that is what you truly desire." She lightly taunted.

[Capt. Sterling]

He stood, somewhat uneasily as the once peaceful room was turned chaotic as worker bees bustled rapidly about setting everything back to pristine condition. When all was accomplished and the last to leave, did so with curtsey, arms clutching tired linens, he could finally sigh his relief to be left alone again. He came up behind Aurore as she moved to the table and retrieved a piece of cheese.

“Perhaps later,” he said, his hands coming to rest upon her shoulders. “For the book that is,” he added as she leaned back against his chest.

She plucked a piece of fruit and passed it back over her shoulder to him. As he enjoyed the item she had chosen, his mind was overflowing with a tumble of thoughts…. Where had he managed to land himself this time? And who was the charming creature, who had the command of so many and yet there was no false airs about her? Clothed in naught but a sheet as those who obviously respected her milled about with eyes lowered, he felt badly about putting her in such an awkward position, and yet at the same time, the urge to bend her over laden table and take her where she stood was as equally strong. As she pressed back against him further, this time with an offering of cheese, he wrapped his arms about her and nuzzled himself against the nape of her neck. He closed his eyes, taking in her scent and realizing that he was the only thing left in this dreamlike realm that was still in need of making right. He pulled away from her and turned to shed his breeches once more as she continued to pick at the items before her. When he moved back, she turned to face him, once more with fruit for him. He opened his mouth for her, his hands busy pushing the sheet from her body…

“Join me?”

[Ransom]

Ioan hated the heat. He hated Port Royal. It was worse than Charles Town—hot, buggy and disease ridden. He'd give anything to be back in the cool green hills of his native Wales. But the country was too poor for a man such as himself to make a living. He'd thought the colonies might offer him a better chance.

He'd worked as a deck hand on an English merchant ship to pay for his passage. During the voyage to Boston he'd almost fallen from the rigging, been knocked out in a below-decks brawl, and nearly knifed in the ribs by a man who had lost a month's wages to Ioan in a card game. But he'd learned the ropes, both figuratively and physically, discovering he had a natural gift for sailing and survival.

He'd also soon discovered that the same prejudices that existed in the old world had traveled to the new. Keeping just ahead of the law, he'd eked out a meager existence, but bore many grudges and a shipload of anger toward those who thought they were his betters. When the opportunity presented itself, he took ship again, heading south.

Charles Town was no better than Boston, only hotter. He tried working for a dry-goods merchant, and that had gone well for a time. But the man's chubby, bored little wife developed a fancy for Ioan, and took few pains to hide the fact. If he went into the storeroom, she would follow, bending for something on a lower shelf, thus affording him a view of her ample bosom. When he came in, his body hot and sweaty from loading a wagon with flour, she would be at the door, offering him a cool drink, her pudgy face flushed with desire. He ignored her as best he could, but when she started brushing her body against his, resting her hand on his arm a beat longer than was proper, he knew something had to be done.

In retrospect, he thought, his way of dealing with the problem was probably not the best. He gave her what she pined for. The next time he went into the storeroom and she followd, he whirled around, grabbed her and planted a rough, juicy kiss on her little pouty lips. For a moment she melted into it, then stiffened, pulled away, and screamed like a stuck pig. Her husband boltd into the storeroom, a shovel gripped in both hands. He took one look at his wife's face, at Ioan's grin of satisfaction, and with a bellow of rage, chased Ioan out into the street. And kept chasing him until they reached the docks.

Which is how Ioan came to find refuge on the Rakehell, discovered that her captain was a young woman who seemed immune to his charms, and found himself standing in a sweltering courtyard, next to a wagon containing a cannon blinding-bright as a new-minted coin.

He'd waited all day, sent Jimmy Cox back to the Rakehell with a flea in his ear, then taken a nap under tha wagon. Come dark, he'd unhitched the horse, ridden to the nearest tavern, eaten a hearty dinner, swived a black-eyed Welsh beauty, slept till dawn, swived the beauty again, broken his fast, and was now back at his post in the bloody courtyard, waiting for Sir Admiral, damn-his-arse, Morgan to show his face and accept the fancy artillery piece.

Wiping his sweating forehead with his sleeve, he took the captain's letter out and inspected the seal—a hollow-eyed horse skull. It was the first time he'd really looked at it, and it stirred a memory, something from before he'd left England. He put the letter back, but was left wondering just who his Lady Captain really was, and determined it might be a good thing for him to find out.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Le cheval noir gained full stride having cleared cane field's uneven terrain. Under normal circumstances, Sabastian would have opted for familliar back way from Shanty Town to home; but though that route could prove shorter, it had to be navigated with care. Speed was what he desired now, one of the attributes which had brought current mount into his possession. The disturbance of bell ladden tack interwove with pound of hoof on dirt road surface; a thunderous fugue spurred forth by the want of destination's aquiring.

The road took a slight dip, curving to the right then inclined again. Two men standing at pillered gate heard the approach before vissualizing origin, and as the large horse and rider crested hill, they were already at work to hove elegant blockade wide allowing entrance. The mount never slowed its' driven pace as it swung thru arched portal, leaving behind clouts of dust in blurred ink wake. The gate was returned to original resting point, its' keepers unaffected to what had just transpired.

Townie Chestnut lazily lashed its tail in effort to disuede small flying antagonist in day paddock. Its' large liquid eyes trained on the man that had earlier offered sweet delights for consumption and a thorough brushing. If said equine had been offered choice of residence, it could surely be deduced that remaining here would win favor. The stranger had a gentle touch and an ingrained knowlege on what was prefered and what was not. Perhaps it could be imagined that Chestnut was envious of the large Bay receiving undivided attention now, as it stood eyes half lidded and one hoof raised to balance on tip.

Christophe spoke softly to twitching ears, as the Bay 'blew butterflies" in response. No rope bound large companion, it was perfectly pleased to be attended to and had no desire to roam. The day's offering of sun and humidity caused glean of sweat to form over exposed torso, deserted shirt hanging on nearest paddock post. The Frenchman forced focus to tasks at hand, keeping his back turned to the second floor windows that laid open in near-far distance.

The Bay raised its' large head, ears cocked forward to some unseen. Christophe paused, casting coup d'oeil to the direction of Bay's interest, slate tinted sights narrowing slightly as the sun snuck from behind passing drift of flimsy cloud. It was a far off sounding that played to his hearing, but its sending gained stregnth and Christophe rested brush encumbered hand over the wide curviture of equine back. The rhythem of hoof placement called recognition, futher confirmed by the chiming of small bell chorus.

Tossing the brush into a small wooden bucket, Christophe stood away from dissapointed comrade, daring a glance to windows hung high. Into the clearing afore stone structure standing, broke horse and rider to riffle the peace. The muscled mount drew up sharply, scattering a stately promonade of peacock entourage. Again Christophe dared a look to loft heigth then back to where Crown Prince of Beggar's Ball dismounted.

Soft boots struck ground in unison with balanced assult and a boy hurried forward to attend mount's lathered needs. It was a rare ocurrance that the Frenchman felt a lack of options, but this exceeded the rarity with grand pagentry. He watched as Sabastian laid a hand on the boy's shoulder in warm manner before centering attention to where he stood. Christophe made no effort to cut the distance betwixt, hoping that in the blink of time involving other's trek, would raise an option so desired.

The space between was halfed and still no course of action presented itself. The Frenchman shifted stance with inward discomfort and continued to watch the disconcerting smooth of the other's movement.

"Ou est Renard?"

"Elle est dans la maison..."

Sabastian eyed Chistophe strangely then turned to gain the front door, "Bien...Merci, ami."

Sabastian closed the door and paused to scan the empty foyer. Movement drew his attention to Magen moving from one room onto another, "Petit?"

The girl froze like a frightened deer, not daring to look directly at the caller.

"Where is Renard?"

The girl shook her head in negation of asked information bringing a crease to Sabastian's browline. Magen waited a moment longer then scurried to next chamber. Something was out of place and it was begining to nag his already unsettled calm.

The stairs were taken upward, foot fall a whisper to the polished surface below. The landing was achieved with stealth and Sabastian lingered taking in the proximity with intense interest. A muffled sound of water splash brought his center to the guest room and its' closed door. There was a taint in the air which brought forth a scowl to wolfish features, further increasing the speed of his pace to door in question.

Portal barrier was thrown back and the scence presented first brought an expression of shock, quickly replaced by something more dangerous. Sabastian's eyes traveled from his sister to the man in her company and stayed there. Without wavering cold attentiveness in regard to interloper, Sabastian removed riding coat and held it in Aurore's direction; wishes unvoiced but very clear.

"Now this is a rather interesting turn of events," Sabastian stated with tinge of venom. " What has gone missing, has now been found under my roof. I trust there is a fitting explination."

Gatekeepers, ever dilligent to duties with which they were entrusted, noticed a second stir of dust rising road's serpantine course....

[Capt. Sterling]

Naked, defenseless and all to preoccupied with… ahem.. Pressing matters, Sterling was astonished when the door to the room flew open and someone he had not yet encountered entered the room. The captain’s first thoughts were to the outside hallway and was somewhat relieved to see it empty. There was only one to deal with. He quickly caught at the girl’s hand, hoping she would not move.

“Stay put, Lady,” He whispered.

With hands still holding out his coat, the intruder remained fixed. Cautiously Sterling removed himself from the tub, the trespasser’s narrowed eyes following him as he slowly bent to grab, once more, the fallen sheet. The sheet was slowly passed to the girl.

“Cover yourself,” Sterling said, hoping she would accept either temporary garment. He backed slowly toward the chair. “Just fetching me breeches,” he explained. Without taking his good eye off the bristling figure, he reached for the black velvet, his hands moving quickly over the folded wool coat as well. Damn but they had found and confiscated his snaphance revolver as well. He turned back, still watching the other man, and slipped on his breeches. The stranger was well armed and with Aurore equally vulnerable and all too well in the way, Sterling raised his hands slightly and then moved back slowly toward the girl.

As he placed himself between the others, he heard her raise from the water. “Stay down,” he said. “Please stay put,” he whispered. “And please, tell me this is not thy husband!”

[Rateye]

“I am truly sorry Monsieur.” Defied the servant. “However mon Chatelaine (The lady of the manor) is not available… Please be kind enough to see yourself from here…”

As the servant attempted to close the door on Reiley and Mistress McKinney, Reiley quickly stomped his foot to stop the door.

“Listen you pompous little twit, “ Growled Reiley, as he grabbed the servant by the collar. “If you only knew the hell of which I…. which WE have been through, you would be able to appreciate the circumstances of which….”

But without another word, the servant uncharicteristically bit down upon Reiley’s hand and a heel was brought down upon his foot causing the doctor to quickly withdraw his shoe.

“Damn! Blast! Little… pompous…. HE bit me!” Yelped Reiley, as favored his hand and walked off his smarted foot. “I knew I should have shot him, the minute I laid eye on the little bugger!”

“We have no time for this nonsense Dr. Reiley,” insisted Lilly, uninterested in the doctor’s misfortune. I fear my good captain is in great danger and being HELD within these walls!”

Then after frantically looking around, Mistress Lilly darted around the building in an attempt to find an alternative means of entry.

“Mistress Lilly, I really must insist….” Groaned Reiley, as he painfully gave pursuit in an attempt to prevent the mistress from endangering herself further.

[Ransom]

By the time I finished breakfast, the Shipp Tavern common room had been put nearly to rights, although half the tables and most of the chairs had been removed to a storage room, awaiting repair. As the barkeep had promised, the food was excellent, but I did not see the one person I had been hoping would return. The Fop.

It was Mistress Mckinna's quick kiss and plea for help that had nagged at the back of my mind ever since the brawl. The more I thought about the stranger, the more sure I became that I'd seen him before. In London, no doubt, as one of his sort would hardly spend time in the country, kandkerchief to his nose, strolling among the yokels. I did not like the smug, arrogant look he'd cast over the room, as if he were a king and we his pitiable subjects. Also, a sense of danger hung about his person like a foul mist.

I shook my head and finished my ale. Better to forget the fop, I decided. There was more pressing business that needed attending to, the first being the state of Ioan and my cannon. I flipped the barkeep some coin and left the Shipp, heading toward Admiralty Court.

[Tempest Fitzgerald]

Aurore was infuriated, and though quite aware of Sterling's movements within the room; his whisperings an intricate weave of concern and uncertainty; her attention stayed centered on the other. Taking hold of well used linen, she made to raise from water's hold and heard his words ringing with caution. Advice was noted then set to the side, she stepped from copper basin and returned soiled shouding to its' usage of before.

Daint footpad traced a course around her drafted protector and the tense stance that mantled his form. It was only then that she looked away from transgressor to Sterling's face and the kaleidoscope of emotions that fought for ground on his expression. Such a vision only stoked Aurore's temper to a higher level and she recentered on where Sabastian stood. Through hard set jaw, she answered his question.

"Non...I am not married. If I were, we would not be in the current situation for I would have never allowed such to present itself..."

Aurore glared at Sabastian while he, in turn gave her a sharp look briefly before returning full attention to the Englishman.

"Well, I must say," His dark eyes slyed from Sterling to sister. " I had suspected that it was not la Oiseau Chantuer that captured your interest, and as I recall, I stated as much not overlong ago..."

A fluid stride was taken forward and native tongue put into usage, "What are you thinking?! Here? You brought him here?! You are fortunate that it is I and not Andre' who has made it here first!" He chuffed incredulously, and eyed the other man as if in appraisal.

Aurore closed the distance quickly, stabbing a finger into the center of Sabastian's chest, "Who are you to lecture me? What next? Will you act in Andre's stead and scream the mantras of our past? You are the last one qualified to preach virtues!"

She whirled on heel and moved back to where Sterling remained bemused to the flurry. Stopping in front of him with a protective manner overlaying her stance, the smooth plains of her youthful expression turned to sneer as she snided with distaste, "Gadje Gadjensa, Rom Romensa..."

Sabastian's brow drew together and he bit down hard to restrain stinging retort.

[Rateye]

Halfway through a kitchen window, Mistress Lilly had almost completely entered the house when Reiley grabbed her from behind and pulled her from her unexpected invasion.

“What are you doing?” Hissed Lilly, as she flailed her arms around.

“The twit of a butler said he never seen the captain.” Insisted Reiley, as he carried Lilly to the carriage. “He might have been a little twit, but he had no reason to lie. Besides there’s still another estate further down the road. We can resume our search there.”

Reluctantly Mistress McKinney, allowed herself to be led to the carriage and soon they had neared the entrance gate of a large estate. However, it was the two armed guards which made Reiley and Lilly believe they had found the estate afore mentioned by the two outlaws.

“These are not necessarily the most gentle sort.” Cautioned Reiley, as he stopped just short of the gate. “They’re not the kind that suffer fools.”

“Well then you better let me do all the talking…” Smiled Lilly, as she straightened herself.

"Not this time, my dear." Insisted Reiley, as he climbed down from the carriage and carefully approached the guards. "But if this goes afoul, leave here at once."

"But what about..." Questioned Lilly.

"At once..."

[Capt. Sterling]

He watched as the two faced off and yet he could not follow what was being said. From Aurore’s seemingly comfort at confronting the man before her, he could only assume they were well known to each other. He took her at her word that the man was not her husband and he felt a small verbal blow from her reasoning that followed.

A lover then?

Once she had jabbed her finger into the other man’s chest, he believed she was in no physical danger. He assumed it was safe to think he was not as well. As they continued to argue, he knew not what to do. He turned and raked his fingers through wet hair. Wishing there was something he could do to help if not them, then himself to understand what was happening.

His head was slowly beginning to pound...