The moon emerged momentarily from behind the tendrils of cloud stretching across the night sky, its ghostly white beam playing across your face as you stir in your sleep. To me you look like a slumbering angel, your hair splayed out across the pillow. I gaze intently at this vision of perfection - memorizing every detail, every small expression that flits across your face; I need to have this vision imprinted in my memory - so it may accompany me always.

I want so much to reach out my hand and caress your cheek, to feel its silky smoothness against my palm, but this I must not do, for fear of awakening you. Instead I shall rely on my memories; memories of that long ago night the two of us shared on that island - alone and unsure if we would ever see another soul in our lives.

It was also the first time you gave yourself to me, in a mixture of despair for the future and the false exhilaration and liberation that excess alcohol brings in its wake. I admit I was drunk, as so often I am, although never have I told you the reason why. I am slightly drunk now, but not so much that my resolve will crumble.

There on that island, I had pretended to lose consciousness, I was not as drunk as it may have seemed - I was giving you the option to change your mind. You didn't. Believing me to be sleeping, I could feel every caress, every light stroke of your fingertips as you touched my face, gently etching the outlines of my eyes, my nose, my mouth.

I hardly dared breathe when you laid your body next to mine, moulding your sweet softness against me as you rested your head on my chest. I had half hoped you would fall asleep, you had drunk more alcohol than you were accustomed to. But my other, more evil half, hoped you would not, and were merely waiting - waiting for my reaction.

I had forced myself to lie there, motionless and unfeeling, but in truth, I was feeling everything. My whole body was burning for want of your touch. And when I felt your arm lay across my body as though you were ready for slumber, I could not resist drawing you into my embrace, of course still feigning sleep so the gesture would appear merely an unconscious reaction. So I lay there waiting for you to retreat, after all, I had believed all you wanted was the reassurance of another human - never the embrace of a wicked pirate! But you didn't, instead you snuggled closer; and deliriously I inhaled the sweet scent of your perfume assailing every fibre of my being; your proximity infusing my body with desire. I could not resist but to pull you even closer until our bodies fitted in almost perfect cohesion.

Daring to open my eyes, I found yours looking into mine, as though you had been expecting me to awaken. Now I believe you had known all along - that my sleep had been only pretence. I couldn't help myself, as your eyes half closed and you gazed at me with that irresistible mixture of wonder, longing and slight trepidation of the unknown. I bent my head to meet your half open lips, relishing their softness, my fingers entwining in your hair. Although I kissed you only gently, with the fear of being rejected, it was with some surprise and no little exhilaration when I felt your fingers push through my hair as you pulled my face determinedly to yours.

Your passion had risen to meet my own as tentatively, then urgently, we began to explore each other's bodies. Quickly I realized, though deep down I had already guessed, that it was your first time. I drew away and murmured something almost incoherent about you being sure you wanted to go further. Your answer was to pull me back down. It had been a long time since I'd made love to a woman who wasn't a whore - and was totally unprepared for the feelings that ignited inside of me. I was careful, I was tender and I was protective; something I normally was not.

That night ended all too soon, and when I woke next morning to see you destroying the rum, my first thought was that you despised me for what I had done. You reassured me that it was to build the biggest fire imaginable - but secretly I sometimes wondered if it was also because you regretted what you did with me, even though we made love twice more after that. Each time I wondered if it would be the last, for it wasn't a relationship that could endure - the pirate and the Governor's daughter? Your father would have had a heart attack had he even guessed. But nobody ever guessed, and nobody ever will. You could no more be expected to leave everything to share my kind of life - no more than I could have endured yours. So I encouraged Will to court you, hinting that anything lasting between the two of us could never be. Our lives were poles apart.

And the last time we made love? It was the day before you promised to marry Will - we both knew then our paths should diverge - each of our destinies did lay elsewhere. Yours with the type of people and life you have always known and the manner to which you are accustomed - and mine on the seas and wherever they may take me. This is how it is and how it should be. Your destiny is not mine to steal.

I am looking out the window again now, the white gauzy material of your curtains is fluttering gently in the breeze and the moon is in hiding once more behind the night clouds. I like the return of the darkness, it will hide my face. Now I must be careful, for if you were to wake up and reach for me, my resolve would surely crumble and I would end up in that bed. So for this one last time I shall turn back to where you lie, I wonder if you will ever dream of me? I shall slip this ring under your pillow for you to find in the morning. That way you will know I came to say goodbye. Elizabeth, my darling, it would never have worked between us . . . . .