Port Royal, Jamaica

[CrazyCholeBlack]

Captain Don Fernando de Ulises stood stiffly at the larboard bow railing of La Alma Negra, his dark eyes locked on a spot against the far horizon. The stiff breeze blew back his open waist coat, pressing the light linen shirt to his muscular chest. Long strands of black hair hung in tangled ropes behind him. Deep lines marred his bronzed features, his face permanently formed into an angry scowl.

“Marcos” He bellowed to the gray haired sailor working nearby, “¿Aquel es Porto Royal si?”

“Si Capitán.” The older gentleman rose, looking to the growing shadow and nodding.

Satisfied, Ulises turned on a heel, his long steps crossing the length of the ship easily. He called orders to the bustling crew as he passed, overseeing every minute detail of the ships operations. The last of the bleached white sails were unfurled, catching the air and pulling the ship that much faster towards her final destination.

“Pronto mi hermano, pronto.” Ulises thought to himself.

[Ransom]

Sabastian slipped from equine perch, glancing upward to roof edge and the hint of yellow glow that eeked its' aura softly at heavens' break. His focus tarried there briefly as the sihlouette of feline form appreared, dancing percarious roof line.

Deserting company, he moved with stealth step to alcove containing doorway and made pressence known to eccentric scholar housed within.

Trilby, up late reading from an archane volume on metalurgie, was not unduly alarmed when he heard the knock. He had an inkling of who his late-night visitor might be. Taking the silver candlestick in hand, he shuffled from his study to the street door, opened the peep-hole and looked into the visage of the middle Devareaux. With a snort, he closed the peep-hole, and opened the door.

As Sebastian entered, Trilby said, "Sae, yon bookseller has given yea the word." Then closed the door and locked it. "I must confess, I'm a bit easier in mae mind that it's you and nae your brother."

As Trilby led the way to a formal parlor, Cleopatra, returned from her midnight prowl of the rooftop, tarried in the darkness of the stairwell, and with wary gold eyes, watched the visitor pass.

[Ransom]

I woke with a start, wondering for a moment where I was. Then the familiar sounds and smells of the ship reassured me. Harbor lights reflected from the water danced in wavy patterns around the cabin. I'd left one window panel open and a moist breeze stirred the papers on my desk. Though wide awake, I did not leave the hammock.

Having been on my own since the age of eighteen, I had learned to take care of myself in circumstances far more dangerous and bizarre than most women would ever face, even in their darkest dreams. The betrayal by my father being the worst, setting me on a course that I could never have predicted. In the ensuing eight years I had fiercely fought for my place and earned the right to the Rakehell and her crew.

But if I were honest with myself, I had to admit, I was getting tired of the constant battle to keep my place. I was tired of running from port to port, always one step ahead of the law and the threat of hanging. I was tired of dealing with men like Ioan, who thought women only good for warming their beds.

What I wanted was the Rakehell, free to sail where I pleased, without constantly having to look over my shoulder to see if we were being pursued. I wanted to sail into any port and not worry that someone would recognize me from the earlier years and have me arrested.

As rain began to fall in fat drops into the dark waters of the bay, I hoped I could trust Trilby and these gypsies. Trilby and the town knew of the cannon, but that was not all that lay below waiting for the right buyer. I had been lucky so far, but with Ioan's desertion, I was running out of time.

In retrospect, I decided I should have let Africa shoot him.

[Aurore Devareaux]

Trilby, up late reading from an archane volume on metalurgie, was not unduly alarmed when he heard the knock. He had an inkling of who his late-night visitor might be. Taking the silver candlestick in hand, he shuffled from his study to the street door, opened the peep-hole and looked into the visage of the middle Devareaux. With a snort, he closed the peep-hole, and opened the door.

As Sebastian entered, Trilby said, "Sae, yon bookseller has given yea the word." Then closed the door and locked it. "I must confess, I'm a bit easier in mae mind that it's you and nae your brother."

As Trilby led the way to a formal parlor, Cleopatra, returned from her midnight prowl of the rooftop, tarried in the darkness of the stairwell, and with wary gold eyes, watched the visitor pass.

Entourage waited nearby in a small alley turn in as Sabastian stepped into low tallow glow that winked out with door's closure. Devereaux kept silent council to the Elder's remarks, stepping with soft brush of boot upon deep wool runner underfoot.

The Parlor, like the rest of residence was a menagerie of odd what nots stacked upon even odder. The air held a acrid quality, combinations of chemical concoctions that were best not pondered on overlong. As Trilby continued into contained chaos, Sabastian halted in arched entrance, leaning casually with aloof manner. Single tallow was used to ignite brethren, shadows cast by wavering lumination clawed for purchase up nearly hidden walls and shifted dance posture as light breeze meandered from unseen source.

Gitan watched other with veiled interest, tracking erratic scurry from various points to various point then recrossing until finally coming to some form of rest. Wide brimed chapeau was removed, plumage stir by same said waft of air, allowing lover's caress to aquiline features and mischievous eyes. Sabastian's voice broke stillness with soft but commanding qualities, "You have called....I have come. What is the nature of the matter afore us."

[Ransom]

Trilby eyed Sabastian, irratated by the man's aloofness. But, he'd done the summoning, so could only continue with the meeting, and since Sebastian was always like this, he should be used to it by now.

"There's someone I ken that would like a meeting. She has something for sale you and yours might be interested in. Sae far as I know, she's more interested in trading, than actually selling. But it will be for her tae give you the details."

He saw the man's eyes narrow with suspicion. Trilby waved a hand. "Nae fret, yea can trust her, of that I'm sure. She has just as much need or more for caution, and I'm nae about to put myself in your bad graces."

He filled two fine crystal glasses with Port from a decanter, then held one out to Sebastian. "Yea look tired and bedeviled, lad. This should help restore yea to a more pleasant frame of mind." Then he winked at the man. "And you've nae need tae worry there's anything more than fine liquor in that glass." And so saying, took a healthy swallow from his own glass to prove the point.

[Aurore Devareaux]

“And I thought ye would play the lay about all day. Tis good to see ye are not a lazy thing,” he teased. He turned then to face her, bringing the pipe to his lips, he clenched it between his teeth, then brought her inside the folds of the long, loose robe, his good arm now encircling her shoulders as he held her close. “We have an hour before Mr. Symms returns with the morning meal. Shall I lock the door, Chere?” he whispered. Then fingering the shoulder edge of her chemise, he added, “Take this off for me, will ye, mon amour?”

She retreated a pace with small reluctance to leaving the warmth of his body. Olive sights traveled the exposed terrain of his visage, liting briefly where wrappings shrouded injury so newly assulted, then upward to his face. There was no secret in what wants and desires floated the bright greenish tincture of unobstructed soul portal. And such unspoken communique did nothing less then beckon to the more unpolished surfaces of her feral being.

Two paces more were taken in retreat, her eyes never wavering from his own and slow action was taken to release linen trappings to slid unheeded; banished to simple planking below and pooling with vivid contrast around dusky hued ankles. Her whisper played to his hearing like silkened challange.

"As you wish..."

[Capt. Sterling]

The black clay pipe was returned to its place of current habitation upon the mantel. Sterling moved back to her. He leaned down to kiss her, she raising slightly upward upon her toes, his hand coming to rest upon the small of her back. As their kiss deepened, lips parting to allow for further exploration, his hand moved teasingly ever lower over her form, his need increasing with each brush of her body against his.

[Aurore Devareaux]

Trilby eyed Sabastian, irratated by the man's aloofness. But, he'd done the summoning, so could only continue with the meeting, and since Sebastian was always like this, he should be used to it by now.

"There's someone I ken that would like a meeting. She has something for sale you and yours might be interested in. Sae far as I know, she's more interested in trading, than actually selling. But it will be for her tae give you the details."

He saw the man's eyes narrow with suspicion. Trilby waved a hand. "Nae fret, yea can trust her, of that I'm sure. She has just as much need or more for caution, and I'm nae about to put myself in your bad graces."

He filled two fine crystal glasses with Port from a decanter, then held one out to Sebastian. "Yea look tired and bedeviled, lad. This should help restore yea to a more pleasant frame of mind." Then he winked at the man. "And you've nae need tae worry there's anything more than fine liquor in that glass." And so saying, took a healthy swallow from his own glass to prove the point.

"She....?" Sabastian's expression gained impish tincture as he chuckled.

"She, Monsieur?...Perhaps this might prove enticing, non?" The contents of captured glass were swirled slowly within crystal cage. "And it is 'trade' that la fille wishes? Perhaps I shall lay appraisal to who I am dealing with, then what I am dealing with, non?"

Port was sampled with nod of approval, his features returned to semi-neautral manner. "Tell Mademoiselle to be at the Old Church as the sun retreats it hold on the heavens. Someone will seek her out..."

Sabastian finished port elixir, knowing eye inspecting crystal quality before being placing it on near stack of tomes. He turned without further verbose, retracing way back to front entrace. Locks were dissengaged and blockade swung to open. Soft voice drifted back to enccentric with cautioning tone....

"Tell Mademoiselle, she is to be alone...and warn that we will know if she chooses otherwise."

The door swung closed with finalizing creak.

[Cheeky Actress]

As Reiley turned to have the carriage prepared, he could sense there was a far deeper reason for the Mistresses unexpected lecture.

“I’m sure he will be fine, dear mistress.” Offered Reiley, as he stopped to offer consolement. “As I’m sure all will be put into order once we have returned to Port Royal.”

However Mistress McKinney did not reply.

She offered her hand to the good doctor as he gingerly helped her into the carriage. The ride back to Port Royal was a quiet one. She kept to herself thinking of her new life or what was to become of her. She had very little money to speak of, and there was no one she knew that would give her credit. She drew a deep sigh as the carriage continued drawing its’ way down the hill towards the city. It was then Rieley spoke in a soft tone. “What do you wish, Mistress?” His words shocked her at first. There was no direction or claim to them as he waited for an answer. Mistress Lilly looked over at him for a moment. “My wish you say?” She said trying not to look too confused at his question. “I wish only for the safety of my child and myself, Sir.” It was then Reiley’s eyes shown as the look of reluctance and disbelief. “Oh, very well then…” She said grasping her hands together and placing them into her lap. “It is that I have my Captain back! I would do any thing to make this so!” The carriage became quiet again. The two of them looked at each other. “We are fools, Mistress.” Muttered the good doctor. “What happiness we have been given is far too short and fleeting and when it ‘tis gone, we only pine for it more. Perhaps we should make sure that we do not neglect it in the near future.” Mistress Lilly knew she was being lectured to. These words were in that ‘fatherly’ tone she remembered so well from her own Dad and that of the Captain on several occasions. It was then she turned and look out the window. “If you wish to preach my dear Reiley, then take up the cloth and become a man of God.” In addition, with that the rest of the trip was ridden in silence.

[Tess St. Claire]

He smiled at her. "Done. But I need a night or two to let my back heal. Then I'll find this Killingsworth for you." He held out his hand. "Five guineas for a show of good faith, the other five when you're presented with the smelly remains."

She moved over to where the man was standing. “Very well, here is your five guineas for now. But do not cross me or swindle me sir, for I will know if you do.” Tess’ tone drifted from soft to stern within a flicker of her eyelashes. The man bowed low and doffed his hat to her. “I shall report back as soon as I am able, with the item in hand, so to speak.” She nodded and showed him the door.

She listened as she shut the door behind her. “Now, where was I?” She thought to herself. She had been in the middle of correspondence when the ruckus occurred in the room next door. She returned to her writing desk when the sound of a carriage made its way through the street. She briefly looked out the window to by chance, see who passed by. The heck was from the stables in town and could be rented for a small fee. She lent over closer for a better look. Her heart froze for a moment as she glimpses the face of a familiar adversary. “It cannot be!” She muttered to herself as she lent almost out her window. She tried to peer into the small carriage as it faltered near the side street just before it turned down the alley towards the other street of Inns in Port Royal. Then the carriage disappeared in the mass confusion of the busy streets. She wrinkled her nose up in disgust. “Damn! If that woman is here Captain Sterling is most likely with her.” “Damn…Damn them to Hell!” She continued muttering to herself …her voice becoming gruff and load with contention. She quickly grabbed her cape and hood and made her way out of the inn and towards the direction of where the carriage had gone.

[Captain Striker]

"Guess the wait here is over and a new one begins . Think I will be heading back to my ship , if ye wish ye can follow . " He said and looked at Jane that had finished her supper and were looking at him with astonishment .

It would be a pleasure Captain Striker.” The word caught in her throat as she took his offered arm and was guided formally into the humid city streets.

They walked out of the inn and started to walk towards Striker's pride and joy , La Maligna , which was situated at the North Docks.

Striker felt that someting was amidst . He could hear 4 pair of footsteps following them from behind.

[Capt. Sterling]

Aurore had been left, fingering a fine burgundy silk, under the watchful eye of Matthew Hazzards, in one of the Mantua maker’s shops. Sterling had been adamant that she choose something to her liking and then, with a bow, turned and vacated the shop along with Mr. March. She did not have the slightest inkling as to what he was up to and it troubled her that he had not explained himself. And yet she was pleased he was in a fine humour after their coupling earlier and had been quite animated since breakfast, beaming with smiles in her direction and tender kisses and affectionate touches. He had dressed in reds and blacks for his meeting with Captain Striker and to Aurore’s mind he looked well enough and yet his choice of colours concerned her… he stood out like a sore thumb… a prime target. And yet she had kept her opinion to herself, hoping there was some reason behind the madness of his actions.

Sterling and March, with time to kill before the 11am meeting, hastily made their way to the silversmith’s shop. There Sterling produced a linen covered item from the depths of one pocket and placed it on the counter as Andrew March warily kept an eye on the other customers entering and exiting the shop.

“And how may I help you, sir?” the master silversmith asked as he made his way over to the counter.

Sterling carefully unwrapped the linen, exposing his silver riding spurs. Symms has spent his time giving the items a good polish as the captain and his lady ate and readied themselves for the day. They now glistened brilliantly, a testament to their fine craftsmanship.

“I wish to sell these, but mind thee,” Sterling began. “I am well aware of their worth. A gift from the Queen and not a shilling less will I take for them.”

The spurs were taken up and examined, the silver smith making his way to the window for better inspection. Sterling knew he had his price when the man’s eyebrow arched highly in appreciation.

An accord, quickly reached, hands shaken and coin exchanged for the spurs, Sterling and March returned, once again in haste, to the Mantua maker’s shop. But before entering, the captain fished about in said pocket yet again and produced his lesser George. Once in place, the medallion evident against fine linen cravat, he reentered the shop to speak to its keeper. Aurore had chosen the fine burgundy and once more, pulling rank the George afforded, a deal was struck and a new gown was to be made and completed by the following noon.

“And ye shall look lovely in it,” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear softly with a kiss.

[Ransom]

"The old church, at sundown? Alone?" I eyed Trilby with frustration. "Why don't you just put a pistol to my head and shoot me."

We sat once again on Trilby's rooftop patio, after I had received a message delivered to me by Souris summoning me to the Professor's house. I did not like this clandestine arrangement. It put me at the mercy of people I didn't know.

Trilby glared at me. "Yea wanted a meeting, now yea have one. Take it or leave it."

"You've dealt with these Devareax brothers before. You think I can trust them?"

Trilby lost all patience. "Hounds of the devil, I nae think yea can trust anyone, these days. But you're in nae position tae ask questions. Yea can trust them about as much as they can trust you. Does that tell yea what yea need tae know?"

"I suppose." I leaned back in my chair and sipped at the strong, minted tea he had served. "But I wonder, should I leave you a copy of my last will and testement?"

He snorted. "I want nothing tae do with anything of yours." Then his expression changed. "Unless...yea wouldn't happen tae have a wee bit of mercury on board, would yea?"

I lifed a brow. "Why, you suffering from the pox?"

He caughed, spilling his tea. "Bloody-minded woman, I'm nae suffering from anything. I need a bit of mercury for some...experiments I've been working on, that's all."

I gave him an evil grin. "Sorry, I can't help you. Maybe you should ask the Devereax brothers if they've any to spare."

Trilby shot back. "Why don't yea ask them yourself, as you'll be seeing them before I do."

"So I will," I mused, "So I will."

[CrazyCholeBlack]

The heavy curved anchor sunk with a quiet splash into the deep blue waters off the sloped shoreline. The broad Hope River hung in the foreground, cascading into the salinated water with endless vigor. The crew completed their tasks in silence as rose colored skies blended to darkness over La Alma. Capitán Ulises paced a well-known path on the quarterdeck. It seemed he had been in this place a thousand times over in the past 5 months. The blackness of his eyes surveyed the jagged line of shore, following it to the sharp southerly turn that blocked full view of the cay. This time would be different, he would see to that himself if need be.

“Ustedes, Ven aqui.” Ulises gestured to four young men thoughtfully sharpening swords on the sea bleached deck. He turned, ducking into a darkly paneled cabin, the men following solemnly behind. Ulises sat himself comfortably behind a heavy oak desk. Salt worn shoes propped up on the bare surface in a deceptively relaxed gesture. He addressed the men without any other shift in his stern demeanor.

“Take the boat around the bend into Porto Royal. Find La Maligna and her capitán piojoso. Bring him back here, alive. ¿Entiendes?”

The men nodded to their captain, muttering statements of agreement at his orders. They filed quickly back onto the deck, gathering weapons and needed supplies for their errand. The small row boat was lowered into the darkening water. Ulises withdrew from the cabin as the sailors disembarked, pushing the small vessel away from the larger ship with their paddles. A singular yellow flame flickered near the bow as the four men rowed towards shore.

“Si Capitán Striker, your death will discharge our great debt indeed” Ulises muttered, watching the silhouette disappear into the dark evening sea.

[CrazyCholeBlack]

my ship

The words rung loudly in Jane’s ears. A captain, it made so much sense, yet the thought put her ill at ease. Endless possibilities about Striker’s meeting, his ship & her own safety, raced around in Jane’s wine addled brain. One fact stood out, a heavily armed captain did not command a simple merchantman like the Anna Rae.

Still, the north docks were significantly closer than her attic room, a rope hammock no less comfortable than the waiting straw filled mattress. The drink had also begun to have a noticeable effect on her. Her limbs felt heavy, yet her head light as air. The dim lights of the tavern moved rapidly with every turn. A walk though the dark streets alone in her condition could easily be more dangerous than remaining with an armed man. Striker had yet to give her any reason not to trust him.

“It would be a pleasure Captain Striker.” The word caught in her throat as she took his offered arm and was guided formally into the humid city streets.

[Captain Striker]

"Best be moving a tidbit faster , Mistress " he said with anxiousness in his voice . Striker took the hand of Jane and pulled her into a alley to the left of them . "Sorry Mistress , but I think that we are being followed " he exclaimed to her . They heard the footsteps echoing through the alley , the sound completely surrounding them on all sides.

Striker wished that he had left Jane behind at the Shipp Inn. "I am so sorry that I have brought you into harms way !"

[Ransom]

Ioan, with his new shiny clinking merrily in his pocket, left the Shipp Tavern and the continuing mayhem there. He decided it was not the best place to spend the night, so he headed out the door behind a man and woman. The man carried an arsenal of weapons. Ioan paused in the street, trying to decide where he should get a room, when he saw two men fall in step behind the couple.

"What's this, then?" he muttered, and at a distance followed the followers. Ioan was still in want of a good fight to vent some of his pent-up anger. If he could earn a bit more money by saving the couple from robbery, then so much the better.

When the armed man pulled the lady into an alley, Ioan grinned and crept closer to the two assailants who followed. Although it was dark, he could see the glint of steel and flintlock.

Pulling his own pistol from his belt, Ioan stepped behind the two men and whispered in a cordial tone, "Looking for something, mates? Mayhap ya found more than you were bargaining for, eh?"

[CrazyCholeBlack]

Striker traced a jagged path through interlocking alleys and the narrow lanes between buildings. He slipped through the shadowed back passages like one who had used them many times before. As they entered another cluttered alleyway, he stopped short. His arm disengaged Jane’s, reached past her in a protective gesture.

"I am so sorry that I have brought you into harms way !"

Jane tucked herself closely behind Strikers stiff shoulder, unable to see past the worn material of his coat. At another time the closeness would have been enjoyable. Unconsciously her hold on the nearly drained rum bottle she held shifted. She turned to look over her own shoulder to the mouth of the alley, sensing a trap. Her heart skipped as a dark shadow blocked their only egress. She could barely identify the line of a blade at his side. With subtle movements, Jane slipped her other arm around Strikers chest, her hand running over the hard leather of his pistol brace. She patted twice, feeling his slight nod in agreement as her fingers wrapped around a smooth wooden stock. The weapon slid easily from its cocoon into her possession. The thin arm dropped stiffly to her side, concealing the pistol among the folds of her over skirt. Although Jane had little experience with firearms, it was a relief to find her hands weren’t completely empty like earlier in the evening.

“Hola Capitán. Returning to La Maligna so soon?” The smooth Spanish voice echoed off the equally smooth wood & plaster walls around them.

“Aye,” Strikers voice growled in response.

Jane’s heart pounded loudly in her ears, simplifying the ensuing conversation to nothing more than a hum. The drone continued as the bulky man from the alley entrance stalked towards them. She pulled back from Striker’s shadow, facing the oncoming man with shaky confidence. Over the murmur of voices, Jane heard the metallic click of pistols being readied. Her pistol rose as well. Her thumb found the bump of the locking screw, easing the cock back with little effort as she aimed into the man’s back silhouette.

“Es menos doloroso cuando no se lucha, chica” The bulky Spaniard taunted. The words were foreign but their condescending tone rang clear.

Anger began to overshadow Jane’s stifling fear. The cool metal trigger was tugged by a determined finger, slamming forward with a bright flash. The jolt from firing disrupted Jane’s aim. The altered angle barely grazing the large man’s shoulder. He laughed a deep, rattling bellow at her near miss. Moon light glinted off his crooked yellow teeth. His foreign insults continued, the lascivious look in his face twisting Jane’s stomach. Her shaking arm dropped, the smooth pistol grip slipping from her sweaty fingers. It landed with a soft thud on the muddy ground at her feet. She stepped back, realizing the chances for escape were slim. The attacker closed the remaining distance between them just as Jane dodged to the side. She hefted the solid run bottle in her other hand; it was a gamble, but her only remaining defense. With an overhand swing more accustomed to pounding wooden pegs, Jane slammed the green bottle into the side of the man’s head. He staggered back several steps before crumbling heavily against the far building.

Jane backed up against a rough crate, a wave of shock washing over her. Every once of color draining from her already pale skin. The hand gripping the now shattered bottle shook slightly at her side. Tiny streams of blood ran from the myriad of glass slivers on her hand & forearm. Her breathing became shallow and rapid, lungs burning with spent powder that filled the alleyway. She had never been in anything more than a simple fistfight, and those were always against blindly drunk opponents. This was something much more, something she was not fully prepared to deal with. It wasn’t until she heard the sharp voice of Striker calling her name and felt his heavy hand on her arm that Jane returned her focus outward. She looked first into his reassuring blue eyes, a relieved smile playing in the creases around them before looking past him to the final bloody scene.

[Ransom]

The Spanish had thrown Ioan off guard. Spaniards? In Port Royal? But the sudden raport of a pistol drowned out his question. He instintively ducked, then fired his own pistol at the assailant who had turned to find out who was behind him. He dropped with a groan.

Ioan kicked the man's firearm away, then stepped over him. The heavily armed man had backed against the wall, the woman behind him, the jagged neck of a broken bottle still in her hand.

"Are you alright?" Ioan asked the pair. "Are you hit?"

The woman said nothing, but her companion pointed a pistol at Ioan. Before he could decide whether to fire it, more booted feet came pounding from the other side of the alley.

"No time for introductions, mate," Ioan snapped. "Point that pistol at the bloody enemy, not me. And if you've got a spare, you better pull that out as well, I think we're outnumbered."

With only his knife left as a weapon, Ioan stood, feet braced, ready for whatever came next.

[Aurore Devareaux]

An accord, quickly reached, hands shaken and coin exchanged for the spurs, Sterling and March returned, once again in haste, to the Mantua maker’s shop. But before entering, the captain fished about in said pocket yet again and produced his lesser George. Once in place, the medallion evident against fine linen cravat, he reentered the shop to speak to its keeper. Aurore had chosen the fine burgundy and once more, pulling rank the George afforded, a deal was struck and a new gown was to be made and completed by the following noon.

“And ye shall look lovely in it,” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear softly with a kiss.

She smiled unconsciously to his whispered verbose and light touch. Leaving the comfort of low cushioned stool, Aurore turned to him and spoke in low voice, cautioning to the chance of being overheard.

"It is a most magnifique cloth, mon amour...But, truly, such a thing is not of neccessity. I have many gowns that await my whims..."

Her words caught short with his expression and she nodded in silent understanding, "Tres vien, Sucre."

[Capt. Sterling]

He was stunned. Aurore's reply was the last Sterling had expected. His first gift to her, something he had hoped to be special to her and commissioned for an even more special occassion, purchased with the only thing he had left to him of true value other than his ship. He had not expected her to place a high priority upon material objects as Lilly had done, but he had never dreamed she would so casually brush aside his gift. Did things come so easy to Le Cour, he wondered.

"Yes of course," he mumbled quietly in response to her comment and then remained silent, in thought, until the shop keeper had to tug upon his sleeve to gain his attention.

"Where shall ye like the gown delivered tomorrow, sir?" was repeated a number of times before he glanced across at the other man.

"The Three Crownes," March interjected, coming across to see to any further questions. Sterling looked at his first officer, a slight nod of his head was given in thanks, before he offered his arm to Aurore and they both left the shop.

"Mr. Hazzards, sir," Andrew March said. "Do not let him out of yer sight."

"Aye Mr. March," Hazzards replied and quickly left the Mantua Makers as well.

[Aurore Devareaux]

His about face in mood brought a smallish frown to Aurore's features. Her mind rapidly retraced to the turning point and realization struck with blunt force.

"Jean..?" she queried softly.

His glance to her was fleet in nature and step was paused as he continued to look on questioningly.

"Jean.." she said again, just as softly. " I think the gown will be beautiful and even more so because you are aquiring it for me." she paused mommentarily, watching his face with pleading sincerity. "It is just that perhaps I do not feel that I deserve such a thing from you...The fact that you are to be my lifemate makes all other gifts pale..."

[Capt. Sterling]

"Merci, Chere," Sterling whispered. "I fear my gift now pales in comparison. Tis just that I... I thought mayhaps.. I only wished to give ye something special for tomorrow. I have managed to strike a small accord in order to spoil ye this one time, for, although God knows, I shall try my best to continue to do so, I cannot make any promises."

He continued to walk on... now uncertain as to whether to make his next stop or just wander about the streets and docks until the designated time to meet Striker.

[Aurore Devareaux]

"Merci, Chere," Sterling whispered. "I fear my gift now pales in comparison. Tis just that I... I thought mayhaps.. I only wished to give ye something special for tomorrow. I have managed to strike a small accord in order to spoil ye this one time, for, although God knows, I shall try my best to continue to do so, I cannot make any promises."

He continued to walk on... now uncertain as to whether to make his next stop or just wander about the streets and docks until the designated time to meet Striker.

She drew closer to his side, continuing to speak with quiet velvet tone," I will cherish the gown and the event to take place, in the deepest reaches of my heart and soul. A simple flower would be valued as the largest diamond to me, if it came from you..."

Aurore smiled warmly, peripheral sight catching a familiar face watching from near by-way.

"I have something for you, as well...But it will not be ready until tomorrow."

Her smile gained some of the undertones common to older sibling.

[Capt. Sterling]

She watched his brow furrow for the briefest of moments, and smiled to herself knowing she had surprised him.

"But ye must allow me to spoil ye once more this day. Although this time ye may choose as ye like." He hugged her arm closer to his side as his stride once again seem to take on an urgency.

"Je t'aime," he whispered.