Port Royal, Jamaica

[Ransom]

Lupin features pinched briefly as she moved away, "Then you think me to be of that sort....? Tres vien, Mademoiselle." He lifted delicate stemware in salute. Moving towards a large armoire facing four posted elegance, one door was opened and the dark eyes regarded her intently.

"I shall beg your pardon for this chamber is only one and I think I might be far more pleasant company if I were to change part of mine adornments...."

Drinking vessel was placed on bedside table, then overcoat was removed.

That's the problem, Sebastian, I don't know what sort you are. No insult to your morals was intended."

[Aurore Devareaux]

He paused mid way thru the removal of soiled shirt at her words, then cast it off. Stepping from behind the half barricade of opened door, he moved into the more open area of the chamber and eyed her speculatively.

"Then perhaps one day you might know, but it is something that is rare to happen, Mademoiselle. The last that truly knew my inner thoughts lay in earthen bed...."his voice dropped to near whisper, ....."And perhaps that is for the best and she will find more peace than what I could have offered."

He hesitated, then turned away to renew crystal aquaintance and fresh linen shirting.

[Aurore Devareaux]

And then he turned suddenly, throwing himself back into his coat, he quickly untethered  Sabastian’s horse and mounted it. 

“There’s a good lad,” he whispered, stroking the sleek neck again.  Damn the bells he thought to himself.  He would explain … somehow, tomorrow.  For now, he set the horse into a gallop, he needed to get home.

He had been delayed much later than expected. Andre' had become sullen with Younger's defiance and gave no indication that by your leave was something quickly granted. Nothing more had been said with Sabastian's departure, but the Trio remained for two hours more. After test of patience, the gathering dispersed.

The Bays flanks were frothed with exertion spent back to the Port. Now moving at slower pace and rounding the byways to meeting place, Christophe's hearing called full alertness. In receding parameter, familiar echo of bell cadence drew attention to keen center. The Bay was goaded forward to canter.

Fading in dim view, Noir was picked out on a course away from the Inn and something was not right. Instinctually, blunderbuss was removed from keepers and checked. The Bay felt deep dig of bootheel and sprung forward with increasing pace. The distance beginning to close, Christophe observed rider ahead and confirmed that it was not Sabastian astride, the other's technique was wrong.

Gripping tight with knees, Christophe raised the 'buss and discharged intentionally just to the Noir's left then spurred Bay to full run.

[Ransom]

"Sebstain, I'm not the easiest person to get to know either. I'm careful. I have to be. I understand that you have recently lost one you loved. In that you have the advantage of me. You have at least known love, even if you have lost it."

I watched him remove the shirt, and attempted to ignore the rush of feeling that flooded my body. It would have been so easy to let the seduction continue.

"Let us try and be friends, Sebastian. They are few and far between. What developes after that, who can tell. But I will be honest, and admit that I would not be adverse to something more than friendship. However, I would like to know the mind, before I know the body, and hope you might feel the same."

[Capt. Sterling]

Rider and mount’s pace was rapid, once stirrup leathers, far too short for Sterling’s lanky legs, were crossed over pommel to keep them from flopping about, rider continued onward without them.

Suddenly the heavy air shattered as a shot went off. Noir shied sideways but Sterling’s seat was far too sure.

“Sweet Jesus, Lill,” he nearly laughed a loud as he encouraged the horse forward again. “Ye were right about the hour!” He leaned forward, hugging low against the dark horse’s neck. Noir knew only too well the journey back to the house and new burst of speed was gently coaxed from horse all too happy to take himself and rider else where.

[Aurore Devareaux]

Fresh shirt was taken from the depths of armoire as she stated her mind. Laying linen on bed's expanse, goblet was downed. Sidelong glance was given and as clothing was reached for again, quiet knock hailed its' desire for answer.

Moving away, linen abandoned, answer was given and ordered feast delivered. Those with command of the burden kept their attention to task at hand, then left quickly once all was laid upon small table at hearth's near side. Entrance secured once again, Sabastian gestured to one of the matching chairs at table's side, drawing one out for Ransom's seating then deftly captured and refilled crystal want.

[Cheeky Actress]

Nearly two hours passed as Lilly awoke to the dim shades of dawn. It had been a long night. She could not seem to get the image of her sweet Captain out of her mind and the words still filled her ears. Words of hope; setting sail for England again and getting her son back from Lord Darnly and words of promise; a new life in the Colonies with her son made her mind spin with wonderful possibilities. The only thing left was convincing the Captain that this marriage to the young gypsy was not one that would hold true. Aurore was not accustomed to his nature and temperament. Yet, Lilly was. She knew him much better than any other man she fancied. She also knew that he was worth it now. Her emotional struggle without him left her weary and lonely. She tossed back the linen from her body and sat up in her bed. “I must ready myself for our trip.” She said to herself as she grabbed her dressing gown.

[Capt. Sterling]

“Damn the bells!” Sterling grumbled as the horse galloped onward. He wished he could lean forward enough to remove the excess frippery from the animal’s brow band. Even if he could manage a place to conceal both he and mount, the bells would easily give him away. “Come on!” he whispered and Noir once again gave his best. In time the wearied bay quickly fell behind.

[Capt. Sterling]

As horse continued onward, what was once thought to possibly be ride from hell, turned to pleasant jaunt across the countryside and then came to its end as home was neared. With gentle pat of thanksgiving, the dark horse was allowed to walk on loose rein until cool, then spoiled with a treat and turned out with the others, taking chestnut‘s place in the herd. Friendly whinnies erupted in greeting familiars and the captain stood briefly, shushing the horses but to no avail.

Sterling carried Devareaux’s tack back to the house for safe guarding against any sudden turns in the weather, smothering best he could the damn bells that trimmed the bridle. The thought of carefully removing them still played in Sterling’s mind, after what had just happened, mayhaps he would actually be saving his cocky brother-in-law’s life with such a gesture. “Peacock,” he chuckled to himself as he struggled with the front door. Finding it locked, he made his way round back. Maybe she had noticed him gone after all.

[Capt. Sterling]

He frowned, finding the back door locked as well and he without a key. His shoulder was quickly put to use and he threw himself against the back entrance… resulting only in good eye seeing more stars than the Jamaican sky actually contained. Current wound proved to be still unforgiving. After regaining his breath, he applied foot instead, upon second attempt, close to lock, which proved the door’s undoing. Flying inward, slamming to a halt against interior wall, cracked plaster toppling to the floor, he decide it was no longer necessary to muffle the damn bells.

As he entered the dark house, he tried to tell himself that he was not surprised when no one came to investigate the noise, and yet deep inside he felt himself crumbling, suddenly growing all too weary again. As spirits fell low once more, dull ache was noticed gnawing at inside. He made his way into the drawing room, carefully depositing Devareaux's gear upon the sofa. Once free of burden, one hand strayed absent mindedly to press against side. Turning he was startled to find the child, standing in the door way, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"My word, Meagan, ye nearly scared the life out of me," Sterling whispered as he went to collect her.

"I heard a noise," she whispered as he lifted her.

"At least someone did," he replied, his tone giving himself away.

"You are sad? Oui?" Meagan whispered, a tiny hand turning his cheek so that she looked him in the eyes.

"Non, petite maîtresse. Je suis seulement fatigué," he answered and instantly hated himself for lying to her.

[Ransom]

Fresh shirt was taken from the depths of armoire as she stated her mind. Laying linen on bed's expanse, goblet was downed. Sidelong glance was given and as clothing was reached for again, quiet knock hailed its' desire for answer.

Moving away, linen abandoned, answer was given and ordered feast delivered. Those with command of the burden kept their attention to task at hand, then left quickly once all was laid upon small table at hearth's near side. Entrance secured once again, Sabastian gestured to one of the matching chairs at table's side, drawing one out for Ransom's seating then deftly captured and refilled crystal want.

I watched his every move, secretly wishing he would put on the new shirt he'd briefly set aside on the bed. The maid who'd delivered the meal was also intent on the fine male form, and was obviously reluctant to leave the room. When the meal was set on the table, and she'd gone, along with her helpers, Sebastian pulled out a chair for me.

"Thank you," I intoned, still not sure that he wasn't put out with me. He returned to the bed, slipped on the fresh shirt, and took his seat on the opposite side of the table, without further comment.

"This is nice," I ventured. "In my line of work, it is easy to forget my feminin side. It is good to be reminded of it once and a while." And, in a last effort to make my point, and to prove to him that I did not find his company unpleasant, I remarked, "Our worlds could not be more different than if one of us came from the moon. It will take...time, I think, for us to know one another better. But I hope you will find it time well spent."

[Capt. Sterling]

"Then why do you not go to bed?" Meagan asked.

"And how did one of such a tender age grow to be so wise?" Sterling asked in response.

"I have a good mistress who teaches me well," Meagan said. Sterling could not reply, instead he leaned his forehead against the child's hair, his eyes cast downward, the ache forcing him to bite his lower lip. "You are sad," she whispered.

When he raised his head to look at her again, one small hand was gently placed along his cheek. Tiny fingers traced the length of the scar that ran along his face. Under other circumstances he would have been pleased that the little girl was no longer frightened by his appearance, but now he did not even take notice.

"Does it hurt?" she whispered.

"Very much so," he answered, thinking only of her earlier comment and not of his disfigurement. She leaned closer in his arms and kissed his cheek then flung her arms about his neck and hugged him.

His own arms tightened about her, holding her close as if it would allow her caring to pass into him. God when was the last time his own daughter had held him in such a fashion?

"I am sad then too," Meagan finally whispered.

"Well that we cannot have," Sterling said. "Come I think it best that we both retire. Back to bed with you and me to mine own," he said carrying her to the stairs. "Mayhaps I will be a bit brighter in the morning."

"Do you promise?" she asked leaning back in his hold to look him in the eye.

"No," he answered her, this time truthfully. "But I shall try."

[Lady Violet Cunningham]

After Mr. Kennedy had taken her letter and departed, Lady Violet ate a pleasing late lunch, then decided to spend the rest of the afternoon in repose. Before retiring, she instructed her maid, Kitty, to place shallow bowls of vinegar on the ledges of the open windows in an attempt to purify the foul air, the room being too hot to close them against it.

Fortunately, Mr. Spindlethorpe had procured for Lady Violet the Irish whiskey, which she always found sovereign as a remedy for the over-excitment a long sea voyage always produced in her. Removing all but her chemise, she lay on the bed, Sugar curled at her side, and took a long nap.

She could have sworn it was the sound of bells that woke her well after dark. Feeling much refreshed, she handed Sugar over to Timmon so he could take the little dog outside to perform its toilet. He left, the dog pulling frantically on its fine leather leash, its toenails clicking down the hall.

Kitty turned to her mistress, and as she helped her to dress, informed her that a message had been left by Mr. Spindlethorpe while she was asleep. Kitty was to tell Lady Violet that the ship she had inquired about had returned to Port Royal.

"Excellent," Lady Violet replied, pouring herself another dram of whiskey. "Most excellent."

[Aurore Devareaux]

I watched his every move, secretly wishing he would put on the new shirt he'd briefly set aside on the bed. The maid who'd delivered the meal was also intent on the fine male form, and was obviously reluctant to leave the room. When the meal was set on the table, and she'd gone, along with her helpers, Sebastian pulled out a chair for me.

"Thank you," I intoned, still not sure that he wasn't put out with me. He returned to the bed, slipped on the fresh shirt, and took his seat on the opposite side of the table, without further comment.

"This is nice," I ventured. "In my line of work, it is easy to forget my feminin side. It is good to be reminded of it once and a while." And, in a last effort to make my point, and to prove to him that I did not find his company unpleasant, I remarked, "Our worlds could not be more different than if one of us came from the moon. It will take...time, I think, for us to know one another better. But I hope you will find it time well spent."

Sabastian had been mid draught of current crystal capture as she spoke her thoughts. A small crease appeared betwixt brows as glass was set aside and he watched her expression intently. Rising from recently acquired seating, Sabastian obtained a decanter that rested upon hearth mantle and two petit vessel's that kept its' company. Balancing the two within one hand, decanter was set down; stopper removed; then glasses filled. Setting one before her as offering, sidelong glance was given.

There lay a casual aloofness to his manner, an unconscious defense mechanism that had been triggered. Taking possession of the second of two, he turned center to scrutinize her body language which had betrayed her words many times over in the having lapsed since chamber arrival. Once again verbose gained smokey nuances as he spoke in low tone, "I believe that you will find what therein lies a delight to the senses. It is a rare thing that I doubt few will have the plaisir of encountering in a lifetime. Easy with it, do not let its' subtle nature of smooth conceal the bite it possesses."

He moved parallel to chair side, unwavering eyes trapping her own, "I live for the now, ma Petit...Time is a fleeting and agile creature which plays tricks on those that try contain it. The Past is dead to me...and the Future is always an uncertain gamble."

Reaching forward, he dared caress the angle of Ransom's cheek with soft touch of fingers then withdrew.

"The Now is the only thing which is constant....."

Contents of smallish vessel were raised to lips, its' sweetness savored briefly before he moved once more to round the back border of her chair; intent of resecuring former seating in near distance...

[Ransom]

I allowed the caress, allowed myself to enjoy it. I believed we had reached some kind of unspoken agreement, though with this man it would be hard to tell. In many ways we were very much alike. Private, suspicious, always on guard. Could two such reach a common ground?

I took the proffered cordial. "There is no point in dwelling in the past. You can never bring it back. I also have no doubts there is a bite under your smooth, but very handsome exterior. I should not like you so well if there were not. But you must also realize, that beneith this woman's body lies a will of iron." I raised my glass in slight toast, and gave him an honest smile. "But iron is quite malible when the proper amount of heat is applied, non?"

[Aurore Devareaux]

Ransom's words paused his movement to intended destination. Turning about face, another sample was procured from tiny vessel then set aside to table's plane. With slow and fluid movement one hand was extended to her and Sabastian waited to see if she would acknowledge or accept.

[Ransom]

With not an ounce of hesitation, I took the offered hand.

[Capt. Sterling]

He had carried Meagan to her room, tucked her back under light covers, and waited patiently as she said her prayers. She looked at him when she had finished and sat up.

“Are you feeling better now?” she asked.

“What?” he mumbled, confused by her latest query. “Better? ..I…” He felt himself swallow hard and unconsciously shook his head.

“You will, when I see you in the morning,” she whispered.

“Meagan, I … Little Mistress, I will not be here in the morning,” he suddenly said. “There is a matter I must attend to that requires my returning to my ship. I must sail in a week’s time and there is much to prepare, especially after the storm that has passed.” He paused a moment, then took her hand in his. “I think it best I stay on board to oversee affairs.”

“But you will say farewell first?” she asked.

“The hour is very late, Little One, so I will say farewell right now, I think,” he said. Carefully he rearranged the bedclothes once more, then bid her good night with a squeeze of her tiny hand.

“Why do you do that?” she asked, causing him to turn back on his heel and face her again.

“Do what?” he asked in a whisper.

“Always squeeze my hand three times and not just once?”

He tip toed back her side and took her hand once more in his. He gave it a gentle squeeze and said, “I…,” then a second, “Love,” and the third and final, “You. Tis a silent way of conversing that I have always done with my daughter Sarah,” he explained.

“Oh,” came Meagan’s simple reply. She nestled back down into her pillows. “Good night, Sir.”

“Goodbye Little Mistress.”

He exited by the rear door. Noir had done enough for one day, so Sterling, coat tossed over one shoulder, began a very long hike back to the docks. He would stay off the road as much as he could , perhaps the walk would do him good, but he had only gone so far before he doubled over, clutching at his side. The walk back would take him longer than he had anticipated.

[Aurore Devareaux]

With not an ounce of hesitation, I took the offered hand.

Sabastian enclosed Ransom's hand with his, drawing her gently forward to standing. The dark eyes studied her own; meticulously searching for the slightest nuance which might counter his intention. Again he gave gentle drawing forward, testing for resistance, and finding none, a pace was taken to narrow the distance between.

Primal wants screamed for fulfillment, but such were given deaf ear with act of will. Half pace forward again, and it was a narrow bit of air that acted as invisible boundary. Sabastian leaned in, hesitating briefly to search her eyes once more, savoring the scent of sea and salt that clung to her being. Primal wants screamed with louder demand and will counter parried with smallish stagger.

Small waist was encircled, but held loose to allow retreat, as his lips brushed the highest point of her cheek line, near the soft curve of right ear and there he lingered, breathing deeply again saline perfume, before withdrawing...

[Andrew March]

“What are ye doing?” Matthew Hazzards asked coming up behind two idling seamen.

The Archangel had come alongside one of the longer piers and secured herself during the night. A number of the water casks had been found to be contaminated the day after the storm and, before departing for home, Sterling had left orders for casks to be repaired or new ones constructed and the old water dumped and exchanged for fresh. Despite the early hour the task had already begun, for the lightening sky only fore told more bad weather. Andrew March was down in his cabin finishing up his breakfast with his wife and daughter. Hazzards, already tired from the late night watch, had agreed to spend a few more hours awake to see that things were moving.

And, if he was to be working so would the others. The two seamen did not so much as flinch, when the second officer leaned in on them, but one did point toward the end of the wharf.

“Tis the captain, isn’t it?” one asked.

Hazzards looked to where the other man indicated as Dr. Reiley joined the small knot of men and also searched along the dock.

“That were a quick honeymoon,” the other sailor snorted. His partner could not help but comment as well.

“Done tossed him out already?! I reckon tis not yet been even a week!” The two laughed amongst themselves.

Hazzards looked to the doctor, then to his approaching superior and then, with a frown, back to the man who had first commented.

“Make yerself useful, ye lazy bastard! Enough of your foolish talk! Go below and fetch Mr. March … quickly now!” Hazzards growled.

The two men, knowing they had overstepped their bounds went their separate ways, one back to work, the other on Mr. Hazzards’ appointed errand.

Dr. Reiley leaned along the railing watching as Sterling continued toward the ship. He could not help but smile at what the others had said and at Hazzards’ reaction.

“I take it, Matthew, that this has happened before?” he asked glancing across at the officer. But Hazzards’ expression betrayed something other than amusement. Reiley straightened, an alarm going off in his gut and turned to see the first officer, napkin still tucked in his cravat, hurry along the deck toward where he and Mr. Hazzards stood.

“Where is he?” March demanded as he reached the railing, already Hazzards was pointing the captain out.

“Is he drunk?” March asked next, lowering his voice.

“He appears not to be so,” Hazzards replied.

“Bloody hell,” March whispered, snatching the linen square from under his chin. He crumpled it up and shoved it in one pocket. “Send someone to find Mr. Symms. Dr. we shall most likely be needing your services as well, although I pray not. Come along Matthew, let‘s greet the captain and get him below to his quarters as quick as we can.”

“But… wait! Wait! What is going on?” Reiley asked, grabbing at March’s shirtsleeve as the first officer began heading toward the ship‘s entryway.

“Hopefully nothing,” March replied, but already he had spoken too soon as a scuffle broke out below on the pier. March leaned over the railing. “By all that’s… leave it to de Dogge, to set him off! Hurry Matthew before John kills him!”

“But why?!” Reiley insisted as the two officers hurried down the gangplank.

“Blame the bloody Turks, Doctor!” Hazzards shouted back and then hit the dock at a run.

[Aurore Devareaux]

Aurore was vexed....Vexed, confused and pained. They had traced and retraced the area to no avail, continuing on to the Port. Thus far nothing could be revealed as to where wayward Spouse had ventured. With the storm's workings, the normal rhythm of Le Cour had been interrupted and priorities lay more in securing holdings then in the acts of surveillance.

Crossing the byways and mainways of lanes, tavern and hostile inspected gave no news. Livery was visited and it was there that Dubois waited as inquery was made. The Chestnut gazed with sleepy eyes cast in her direction as lantern was raised. Nobel head was extended to snuffle upturned palm which was followed by whicker. Apology and coin were delivered to proprietor for information and compensation of late hour.

Search continued, and as chance would play hidden card, the next lane brought them to cross paths with Bay and Frenchman. Equine greetings floated night air as the Two neared Third and Christophe turned from mount's care to observe newly arrived. He was quick to stand forward, aiding Aurore's dismount of Barb, but his manner carried an underlying facet of ill-ease.

Haltingly, he explained all that had occurred in Aurore’s absence, finally coming to the theft of the Noir. Christophe offered no judgments as to the affaires that had rolled one after another; his slate hued eyes averted from where she stood through most. She, in turn, made effort not to probe or prod too deeply…Some things were a given, others would show full plumage eventually. Nothing Aurore heard offered peace of mind and she began to question inwardly, if Fate was not playing a malicious coup d’etat….

[Andrew March]

“Give him something, anything… to make him sleep, Doctor,” March said as the captain was finally confined in his cabin. He had been dragged below, with great effort, after the scuffle turned into a bloody assault.

Bosun de Dogge, pricked by the point of Sterling’s small sword, now sat quietly in sick bay as the old surgeon’s mate looked after his wounded arm. A tot of rum was nursed to ease his wounded pride as well as Andrew March had berated him soundly before latching on to one of the captain’s arms and removing Sterling from the scene.

“I still do not understand,” Reiley said, rummaging through his medical chest, back in Sterling’s quarters.

“Just do as yer told. Rest is all he needs,” March now ordered. “Mr. Symms, ye know well enough to keep the door locked. I’ll see that no one disturbs him on my side.”

“Aye Mr. March,” the older man replied as the first officer turned to resume his duties on deck.

“No, wait!” Reiley said following after March.

“What be it now?” March asked, moving closer in the dim candle light, lowering his voice. “Doctor Reiley, I think ye do not understand the seriousness…”

“Aye that is correct. I do not understand and in order to help the captain best I can I think I need to,” Reiley argued. “You have obviously encountered this before…”

“Aye, tis my fault. I should have seen it coming. It were clear things were not well with him during the storm,” March agreed.

“Not well?!” Reiley continued. “The man has been shot, ill, and married to a stranger in less than two weeks time. He was awake through out the run of the hurricane, constantly on deck…”

“Tis his job, Doctor!” March interjected angrily. “As is seeing to the safety of the crew! I suggest ye see to yer duties as well.” But Reiley would not back down.

“The man is past the point of simple exhaustion. No one has even tended to the dressings since last I did. That is my bandaging…Why is it, that no one can keep him in bed where he belongs? Who the bloody hell is responsible for his safety, since he damn well does not look after himself?”

Before the first officer could stop himself, he grabbed Reiley by the front of his waistcoat.

“I do the best I can with him. He be not like this often, thank God, but he does have his moments. Something or someone has set him off. In most cases, he be, as ye have claimed, worn thin. He has not been completely right,” March said tapping the tip of his finger against the doctor’s temple, “Since he was ransomed from the Turks. Do you understand the situation better now, Doctor?”

“My God, what did they do to him?” Reiley asked as March released his grip on him. March made his way to the cabin door.

“Better to ask what didn’t they do to him and others that be as stubborn as John is,” March replied then looked at the old Steward. “Remember, no one is to see him like this. Now put him to sleep Doctor, even if ye need to cave in his skull in order to do so.”

[Capt. Sterling]

"You heard what Mr. March would like me to do," Reiley said as Sterling launched to his feet and milled about the cabin, grabbing charts, weights, and with one wide sweep of his arm, clearning a place on the table.

"If I remember correctly," Sterling mumbled choosing one chart in particular. "I am captain of the Archangel."

"We are only concerned about yer health, sir," Symms said, moving a candle to the table top. "Shall I fetch yer lense, sir?"

"Fetch his lense? He needs to close his eyes for a spell, not strain them further!" Reiley said. "Sir, you are making my job a bit more difficult than it needs to be. Surely this," he waved his hand at the pile of charts. "Can wait a little."

"Will ye leave me be!!!" Sterling suddenly shouted. He closed his eyes a moment, collecting himself. Then bent over the table and charts.

Glancing up at the doctor, he said, "We need sail in a week's time... for England. Once on our way, I shall sleep then."

"England?" Symms repeated, slightly taken aback. "I thought... Virginia..." he cast a quick look toward the doctor. "Aye ye can take a breather back at home. Some time spent with Sarah will do ye well enough."

"You're not helping matters," Reiley mouthed to the older man. "All right then. Plot your course if you like. Just give me a moment. Let me at least see to fresh dressings on that pistol wound and let me bleed you. Mayhaps it will clear your head a bit and allow you to concentrate better."

Sterling straightened, eyes narrowing suspiciously. He toyed with the dividers in his grasp. "That is all ye wish? Ye will leave me in peace if I do?" he asked.

Reiley nodded his head. "Aye sir, I will leave you be then," he answered. And out cold, he thought to himself.

[Andrew March]

“Well?” March asked waiting for Doctor Reiley’s response.

“Give the Laudanum a few more minutes to work,” the doctor said. “Between the bleeding, the lack of sleep and the drug, he should be out for quite awhile once it hits him.”

Andrew March nodded his head in silent understanding.

“You do realize that I am not so certain that I agree with how you are handling the matter,” Reiley added.

“Noted,” Mr. March said. He pulled the doctor to the side, waiting until a crew member passed. He continued on, his voice a low, dangerous growl in his chest. “I will not be havin the captain’s good name dragged down any worse than it already has been by them one would think he could trust … and all because of something that happened to him in the past that he cannot rid himself of. I will not have his flaws exposed about like some scandalous broadsheet. He has been through enough thanks to them that ought to have loved him.” March paused. Taking a breath, his tone soothed a bit. “The captain has been like this before and he has gotten through it. He will get through this as well, and you, Mr. Symms, and myself will do all that we can to help him get through it all the faster. Do ye still think my reasoning is amiss?”

Reiley shook his head.

“Good then we be having an understanding finally?” March asked.

“Aye,” the doctor said. “Yes. I would like the chance for him to see a better doctor. I am still finding my way about all this again.”

“Also noted," March said. "But he already knows about....," his voice fell to a quiet whisper. "As do I and Mr. Symms. And now yerself. Now, no more said. Ye will look in on him in a bit and then let me know if yer treatment has accomplished its goal,” the first officer instructed. “Other than the obvious, the wound?”

Reiley looked at the other man.

“The wound is healing nicely.”

“Thank God,” March said. “Well be off with ye then and see to the captain.”

Reiley hesitated a moment longer.

“What now?” March asked.

“There was one other thing he mentioned and seemed quite adamant about… whether he remembers or not later on…”

“Get on with it!” March snapped.

“He wished to speak to Mr. Straw… he said he had questions regarding the issuing of an annulment.”

[Ransom]

With not an ounce of hesitation, I took the offered hand.

Sabastian enclosed Ransom's hand with his, drawing her gently forward to standing. The dark eyes studied her own; meticulously searching for the slightest nuance which might counter his intention. Again he gave gentle drawing forward, testing for resistance, and finding none, a pace was taken to narrow the distance between.

Primal wants screamed for fulfillment, but such were given deaf ear with act of will. Half pace forward again, and it was a narrow bit of air that acted as invisible boundary. Sabastian leaned in, hesitating briefly to search her eyes once more, savoring the scent of sea and salt that clung to her being. Primal wants screamed with louder demand and will counter parried with smallish stagger.

Small waist was encircled, but held loose to allow retreat, as his lips brushed the highest point of her cheek line, near the soft curve of right ear and there he lingered, breathing deeply again saline perfume, before withdrawing...

Before he could retreat to the other side of the table, I held his wrist capture for a moment, feeling his quickened pulse, then turned his hand palm up, and kissed its warm center. Hand released, I said, "Thank you," my voice soft with new admiration and affection.

Taking a slow deep breath, I gave him a smile unlike any other I'd offered him. "So, what fine supper have you ordered for us, for I suddenly find myself famished."