Stormy Waters, a mel beeby agent angel fanfic

Completely AU story. With sexy pirates. Because, well, it fitted him. Mel/Brice. Obviously.

Reviews adored.

Captain Edward Brice of The Floating Angel was not a patient man. He'd risen through the ranks quite well, and was, at the age of 25, a fully fledged king among pirates. His ship had been his for three years; his crew were—'loyal' is perhaps the wrong word—well, they didn't make extra trouble, at any rate. His raids were conducted quickly and mostly returned a good haul. His temper tended to show whenever he was kept waiting, being unused to such a thing, and at the time of 7.12pm on the 24th of September, 1720, Captain Edward Brice was restless indeed.

His dinner appointment with Miss Melanie should have started at exactly 7pm. She was late. The girl was obviously trying to get herself into more trouble, he reflected, pouring himself some red wine. Or try and show that she was not owned by him.

His lips curved into a smile at that. She was really very new.

Just as he watched the clock strike the quarter-hour, a knock at his door announced the arrival of Miss Melanie after her first day of work aboard his ship, washing down the decks. He kept her waiting for a moment or two, to irritate the girl more. Eventually he deigned to open the door in one sweeping movement, planning to look her up and down, assess her condition and quite probably make her feel quite small. What happened was that Melanie was actually not looking that bad. Her hair was tied back by some method of combs she seemed to have had available; her face was only a little shiny from her hard work—her dress looked to be in much the same condition as it had when she had…chosen…to work for him. Well, he could still make something of that.

'You're late, you know.'

'Yes. I'm sorry. Captain,' she spat, eyes down.

'That's no way to speak to a commanding officer,' he advised her.

'I didn't exactly have a choice after I hit you with that knife. As far as I'm concerned, I was kidnapped.' Melanie glowered at him quickly, then dropped her gaze as his eyes turned towards anger again.

'In,' he said simply, mock-bowing.

She did, not as boldly as he had thought she would—but perhaps she was saving that for inside, he hoped. He did so want Miss Melanie's spirit to go out grandly.

Shutting the door, he commented dryly, 'I am fair surprised you have not yet curtseyed to me.'

She stiffened and gave him a small curtsey. Brice smirked. 'Good to see you have not forgotten your manners.'

Melanie raised her chin. 'It was quite hard to remember them what with your crew, I'll admit, sir, but I am glad to see my efforts have not gone unappreciated.'

She thought she saw something in his eyes flash then; but it was gone soon, as he turned round to pour her some wine.

'I would be pleased if you changed from that old dress,' he said calmly. He almost felt Mel's disgust, before she even spoke.

'And then what would I wear, Captain?' she asked sarcastically. Brice found himself surprised that she would still have the nerve to cheek him, even when she must realise he was stronger, more cunning and more powerful than her. He liked it.

Leaning against the table, he let his eyes rove slowly over her body, relishing her discomfort. 'We once raided a ship with women. We took their silks and jewels…there were even a company of players aboard. All of their costumes…I daresay you can find something there, even for one so slight.'

She shuddered, and Brice felt embarrassed. He hadn't meant her to be made sick by his tone. Quickly quashing the feeling, he gestured to his bedroom. 'The chests are in there.'

Struck dumb, Mel found herself marching into his bedroom, making sure he would not follow. She was struck by the sheer amount of expensive things there; this had to be mother-of-pearl inlaid, that had to have taken hours to carve…

Her gaze fell onto an old leather trunk in the middle of the floor. Mel knelt down, and opened it. She did not receive the musty stench she had expected, and, sifting through player's garb, found the reason why: sweet pea sachets. She picked up the gowns that looked least offensive, slipped behind a Chinese-silk screen and tried one on. Too loose everywhere. Another. Too tight in the waist. Another. The bodice was too loose and the bust too tight. The last one; a whore's dress, of that she was certain, red and black silk, bare-shouldered--and just her luck, it fitted.

She stared at herself in the brass-rimmed looking-glass. Definitely a prostitute's dress. It looked unworn, or at least Mel convinced herself it was. Squaring her shoulders and making sure her hair was neat, Mel opened the door and walked back into the entrance chambers.

She very nearly blushed when she saw herself and the captain were not alone. A boy of about twelve was setting the table. He spotted her and his mouth went into that considering shape she had seen on the majority of the crew that day. Mel glared at him imperiously and he suddenly had the nerve to talk to her.

'Who're you?'

Brice raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, waiting for her response.

With a glance at him, Melanie replied. 'I'm Melanie, he kidnapped me. Who're you?'

'Sam.' With a look at her dress, and a glance at the expression of pure mirth on the captain's face, he asked another question. 'Are you an' the captain…' He twiddled his fingers and winked.

Brice looked scandalised. Catching a glimpse of the look on his face, Mel replied sweetly.

'Never in a million years, and then not even if you paid me.'

'Sam. Out,' Brice growled, practically throttling the boy in his haste to get him out of the room. Mel stayed innocently standing in the centre of the room, trying not to laugh. I got one over on you.

She didn't have time to find it funny for long, though. Brice, having thrown Sam out, turned back to her, eyes glinting dangerously.

'Remember the only thing stopping me from hurting you is your sex,' he snarled. 'And that won't stop some of my crew from harming you.'

He had really only said it to stop her laughing at him, but Mel went white. She really thinks I'll kill her, he realised. I have at least some power already.

'Sit,' he commanded her. She did, although not gracefully as one might have expected. Brice put that down to shock. He pushed a goblet of wine over to her. Mel looked at it as if she had never seen such a strange sight in all of her sixteen years, and then grasped it by the stem, the coolness perhaps bringing her to her senses.

'So,' he said pleasantly, as if the previous conversation had never occurred. 'How's your first day of work?'

Mel cleared her throat, and then said huskily, 'I cannot say it is work, sir, since I am not getting paid. However—' and here she fingered the goblet stem, most uneasily—'I…'

She trailed off. Brice leant forward. 'And?' he prompted. Something in his eyes danced wickedly. 'No complaints, I hope, Miss Melanie?'

'You wouldn't want to hear it,' she said firmly, looking beyond him to a painting on the wall.

'Oh, indulge me,' he replied, sipping at his wine.

She shrugged. 'The crew. Comments. I didn't expect so many to be so…coarse.'

The captain frowned. 'I don't expect you're familiar with the pirates' code, are you, Miss Melanie? It states any man insulting a woman's honour must reply to a duel if his behaviour is objected to by another member of the crew. Rest assured,' he added as he pulled a covered platter towards the middle of the table, 'If I hear of it again, he shall be dealt with.'

Expecting her to be pleased, he looked up and was surprised for the third time that day when Miss Melanie was concerned. She looked distraught. 'No! No, that's not what I want at all! If I kick up a fuss…'

'Actually,' he put in, 'If, for example, I was the second dueller, you'd be under the captain's protection.'

He waited just long enough for her face to look remotely hopeful before adding 'Until the time when I chose to withdraw it, of course.'

'Oh. Of course.' Mel said miserably, and looked around, stifling a yawn. As Brice noticed, the atmosphere suddenly turned electric.

'Bored, Miss?'

Even Melanie noticed the change. She vigorously shook her head, her hair falling over her shoulders. Brice took a second to savour the view, and then was distracted by her explanation.

'I just have not slept well these past few days.'

About to ask her why not, he suppressed it down. It was a stupid question. Even though there was a lock on her door, the crewmembers would probably stop at nothing to see a naked woman. Screens were in place, but that didn't stop them heckling her as she worked.

A plan began to form in his mind as he watched the girl eat very small bites of the food on her plate. If he could get her under his protection by winning a duel based on an insult for her honour, that might make Miss Melanie become a little more relaxed, a little less opinionated, and a little more dependent on him. Excellent. He smirked to himself, and the rest of the meal passed without incident.

Nearly an hour later, dinner was over and Mel had just finished loading the plates onto the carrying cart, on Brice's instruction. He had given her permission to leave—with instructions to keep and wear that particular dress the next night as well (in such a tone that Mel had to fight to keep herself from shivering). As she collected her work dress—as she now called it—something made her pause.

'Why didn't you just throw me into the brig?'

Brice looked over, genuinely curious. 'Hmm?'

'The cells. Why didn't you just throw me in there? I stabbed you.'

'Miss Melanie, do you really believe I would tell you that?' he said, grinning. 'Off to your cabin you go.'

As she exited, Mel did not expect the large number of pirates surrounding the captain's cabin. She knew why they were there, of course; it didn't stop her balling up her fists as she went below deck, and blinking back tears as cries of laughter followed her descent.

The day dawned bright. Mel awoke early to a banging on her door. In only her shift, she unlocked it and was surprised to see Sam holding a bucket of water up for her.

'To wash,' he prompted, and left it there. Well, she did have a tin bathtub in her room…

Half an hour later, having plugged up all the eyeholes and possible cracks in her cabin with various rags or a screen, Mel sank happily into her lukewarm water, rinsing herself and actually washing her hair, oh, it felt good to rid her scalp of that stiff sand and salt. The bucket stood well to empty it back into, and it was with a somewhat lighter heart that Mel began to scrub that day, softly singing an old nursery rhyme to herself. Not much lighter; she was still on a pirate ship against her will, but it was still an improvement; up until around lunchtime.

Mel had given herself a break: she was leaning on a rail, not really enjoying her biscuit but eating it anyway. As she finished, and prepared to begin her work again, a shadow crept up over her, and a hand reached down to grip her arm. Mel looked up into the face of one of the crew, about thirty, red-nosed, blond-haired and with manic brown eyes.

'Are you the captain's new bedwarmer?' he enquired crudely, so close to her Mel could smell his breath. When she didn't reply, he pulled her to her feet suddenly, so fast she nearly toppled over. 'Are you just another woman who opens her legs to anyone?'

Mel glared at him and tried to tug away, but he gripped tighter until she winced with pain.

'Just like my daughter,' he breathed. 'Hoi, lads!' he yelled to a group of his friends, who were all pretending not to know him for some reason. 'How's about we all have a go?'

At that, Mel was about to spit in his face and damn the consequences, but stopped when she heard the captain's voice.

'Crewman Paulson! You were insulting that lady's honour.'

The man dropped her arm, and Mel tried to back away. She noticed the ring of pirates now surrounding the three, and they would not let her leave.

She listened, numb, as the captain challenged the crewman to a duel, right there and then, and bid his crew to watch. I can't believe this is happening.

And then it began. The crewman was sturdier and older than Brice, but Brice had cunning and speed on his side. The first few swipes with swords made little or no contact; the first real wound came when Brice slashed open the man's cheek. In retaliation, Brice found his left arm cut, almost parallel to where Mel had stabbed him with the knife.

Mel tried to shut her eyes, but there was a terrible hypnotising quality to the fight which held the crew captivated. She had just made up her mind to close her eyes when a yell of triumph came from the circle.

Brice had him pinned down, and was looking straight at Mel.

'What say you, Miss Melanie?' he panted, as the men nudged each other. 'Should I kill him for insulting your honour?'

This is a test, Mel thought dreamily. It will always be, with him. She coughed.

'Not for my honour, sir, but for the abuse he rained upon his daughter when he held me,' she replied. 'Yes. Kill him.'

Brice and the crew looked stunned. This was obviously not how it was meant to go. Eventually, he managed to speak. 'This man has held us true in many battles, Miss.'

'And I, as an unwilling member of your crew, despise him for it,' she replied, giving him a way out. Much as she loathed him, he was not a lout like some of his crew, who, at seeing a sign of weakness, could have mutinied.

From the odd look in his eyes, he realised she had just helped him. 'Then he shall live,' he said firmly, pulling up the crewman. 'But let it be known anyone who is crude towards this—prudent—woman, they shall answer to me again.'

He looked at his arm, seeping blood. 'Miss, you shall tend to my wounds. The rest of you—to your posts.'

As Mel scurried to get away from the pirates, the crewman advanced upon her, face ashen. 'Women know nothing of combat,' he hissed.

Mel had had enough. She turned to face him, and replied, in icy tones. 'We know enough not to fight someone who has a weapon. Some men still have that to realise.'

He glowered her way, but was pulled away by his friends, some of whom were looking at her not with hunger, but thoughtfully. Somewhat pleased—she thought—Mel swept her way to the captain's chambers,

He was already topless by the time she entered. Mel had to look the other way as Brice, grinning (though looking a little pained), gave her instructions to fetch water, rags and a clean shirt.

As he settled in his chair, he watched the girl get what she needed. She was noticeably less graceful this time—clumsier, in a way, having to steady herself more often. As Mel turned, he was not too surprised to see great bags under her eyes.

She knelt at his feet, wet a rag and began to wipe away the blood, somewhat more harshly than he felt necessary. He frowned at her, and she went more slowly.

He looked down at her lazily. It was lovely to have a pretty girl, especially one as spirited as Miss Melanie, attend to his needs. He smirked. Especially one who he had plans for.

'Thank you,' she said, jolting from his perverse daydream. He was momentarily stunned; he seemed to be stunned a lot whenever she said something, and he couldn't quite understand why.

'For?'

'Making good on defending my honour,' Mel replied, applying the first bandage and trying not to let her eyes stray to his chest.

'Oh,' he said. 'That wasn't because you told me to.'

Astonished, Mel looked up at him. It could just have been the light, but he seemed to have a tint of pink about his cheeks. She hurriedly got up as she finished the bandage, and passed him the shirt. Brice noticed that although her cheeks got pleasantly pink at his stretching, her face still looked sallow.

She needs sleep before she collapses in front of the crew, he thought grimly. Being a pirate, he naturally thought of using trickery first afore all else.

'Some wine, perhaps? To express my gratitude,' he said kindly. Mel looked confused for a minute, and then nodded slowly. Brice poured them both goblets and added a powder to Mel's, waiting for it to dissolve before passing it to her.

After she had finished the goblet, and Brice had set his on the table, the girl suddenly began to become even more unsteady on her feet. With the cat-like grace he had displayed at the fight, Brice leapt over to catch her before she fell completely. The powder had worked, and she would hopefully be out like a candle-flame til morning. Lifting her onto his chaise longue, he smirked at her blessed-out expression. He snuffed out the candle that had been on the table, and after some consideration, covered her with his long coat.

The wine had apparently acted well. It was five in the morning of the next day, the sun was creeping over the clouds, and Brice had come out of his room, semi-dressed, to find the girl still sleeping soundly. Sitting by her feet--she had curled herself up under his coat—he patted her leg possessively and pulled on his boots, shirt still open.

The action woke her. Brice watched, amused, as Mel's eyes flickered and the tiniest movement of her neck betrayed her wakefulness. Suddenly struck with an evil idea, Brice stood and bent down til his and her face were level. He waited until all was quiet, and then whispered into her ear;

'Morning, darling.'

Her response was textbook. Her eyes flew open, she bolted upright, fighting the coat, and looked around, disoriented and dismayed.

'What happened?'

Brice forced himself to resist the grin he so wanted to give her and looked surprised. 'Don't you remember? I know I did.'

Her eyes widened even more, and she paled, looking sick.

'Best get to your cabin and change for work, Miss Melanie,' he said cheerfully. 'Before anyone sees you.'

He whistled, walked into his room, shut the door and waited for her to leave. Sure enough, it sounded like she had thrown his coat off her, and literally ran to the door.

Brice wanted to laugh, he really did. But it wouldn't come. Instead, he felt displeased with himself, and he thought he'd roughed down that gentleman's edge at tricking a lady. Shaking himself off—he wasn't getting ill, was he?—the captain strode out onto the deck and looked forward to another day at sea.

Mel had not been well all day. The sea seemed to churn too much; the crew too loud, the food fouler than usual and that insufferable captain—

She wasn't sure if he was lying or not. That was why she felt so ill. No man of conscience would ever harm a woman in that way, but she wasn't sure exactly if he was a man of conscience. But she still felt…intact. She was in the middle of her monthlies, he surely would have mentioned that if he had really…she swallowed, and shook her head. No matter how much evidence Mel came up with for him not impeding her virtue, she still couldn't distract herself from that sickening thought.

Do something, she told herself angrily. Something besides just sit here scrubbing.

Surprising herself, she wobbly took up a tune. She couldn't sing well, but it was enough to keep the thoughts away. 'O-oranges, and lemons, say the bells of St. Clements…'

Her voice got stronger through the rhyme, until she was chanting the last few lines. Spinning round to wash the other side of the deck, saying strongly 'Chop off your head!', she noticed the other members of the crew backing away. The captain's words must have been reinforced by the rhyme, she thought, astonished. They're terrified of him.

But I'm not. And he could kill me.

Mulling it over, and forcing herself to forget what he could have done the night before, Mel launched softly into 'Lavender's Blue.'

Weeks passed. There was an uneasy ritual in Mel's life. Get up, do work, have a biscuit, perhaps get Sam offering to bring her water that night before she had to see the captain, work some more, go to chambers, have bath, get in that whore's getup, have dinner with the captain where neither of them said what might or might not have happened the night she fell asleep, go to bed and have infuriating dreams of freedom.

She couldn't, of course, say it was good. But the crew had at least stopped watching her, and the captain didn't scare her as badly, and she was starting to notice his good looks (which frightened her a little), and it was relatively peaceful. Until the day, over dinner, when Brice announced he needed to put the ship into port for restocking. Mel nearly sprayed out her wine.

Because that meant stealing, and possibly killing.

'I trust you are not ill?' he asked, full of mock-concern as she coughed. Red in the face, Mel shook her head.

When she had regained control of her lungs, she spoke more calmly. 'But—surely there will be stealing involved, sir, and I cannot hold with that.'

'It's not as if you were an accomplice to it!' he argued.

Mel said nothing, but looked at her lap, head bowed. Brice felt a twinge of pity.

'I could let you stay with some friends of mine—women. Prostitutes,' he said coolly, hoping she wouldn't overreact.

To his surprise, she didn't. She actually looked happy. I suppose piracy has smoothed our Miss Melanie's edges off a little, he thought, amused. 'For a few days, that's how long it will take.'

She nodded quickly. Too quickly, Brice thought, irritated.

'Do you find this ship not to your liking?' he asked, voice dangerously low.

Mel looked at him firmly. 'I mean no disrespect, but sir, I would not choose to be here if I had to choose between England or even a Navy-inhabited base.'

Brice sighed. He thought he'd worn her down, but she took some things the strangest ways…she didn't play the mindgames he wanted her to succumb to, or, if she did, she was very good at concealing it.

'Would you like to say that again?' he asked, aiming for a sharp tone. Melanie winced and he had to stop that strange sick feeling every time he was cruel to her come swooping in on his stomach.

'I mean, captain, a pirate ship is not well-suited to me,' she replied quickly, perhaps more humbly than she usually did.

'Better,' he said, thankful that the feeling had gone away. 'We're docking in two days or so. I suppose I had better give you money…just in case.' He took a sip of wine, waving a hand at her. 'No need for any thanks or protests—consider that your pay for, hmm, entertaining me this past month.'

His eyes caught the candlelight as he bent forwards. 'May there be many more dinners with you to come.'

Whether it was politeness or the light, or her actual feelings, he didn't know—but Miss Melanie, was she blushing? The next minute, however, she raised her cup to drink and by the time she set it down again, her face was free of any blemish.

'I suppose I'll have to let you look through that clothes chest again,' he mused. 'Put back the other gowns…'

She looked at him, quizzically. 'I thought this,' she said, gesturing to the red-and-black dress, 'was the only one that fitted.'

'Oh, no,' he said airily, 'I just wanted to see you in it. Though the others are…from the same branch of style, shall we say.'

He was pleased to see a muscle working furiously in her jaw. She was angry, and she looked so irresistible when she was angry. 'Why—how dare--,' she began, but stopped when he raised his eyebrows at her.

'I'm the captain, love,' he reminded her. 'I have licence to do anything I want, and bringing down an aristocratic Miss who tried to kill me by making her wear a prostitute's dress seems mild compared to what some others could have done.'

'It was still degrading,' she objected fiercely, eyes glittering. 'I don't suppose you could have found any reason for me to have been haughty, and, and, angry—'

'You speak out of turn,' he said coldly. 'I wish you would remember your manners when talking to a gentleman.'

'A pirate! A gentleman!' Mel cried wildly, seeing his anger and not caring. 'You, sir, are a thief. Stop glamorising your life. You live and work with thugs and convicts, you steal from anyone—why those women, pray? You did not have need for their clothes, and you!'

Brice actually felt himself shrivelling as the girl scrutinised him. 'You,' she said quietly and icily, 'are the very model of everything a gentleman should not be.'

He regained enough self-control not to strike her. 'I suggest again, Miss Melanie, that you rethink your answer.'

'I have. I still agree with it. I do not care what you do to me now, sir—anything is better than having to sit and listen to a rapist torment his victim,' Mel said angrily, looking upset and shaking.

He sat stunned for a minute. She thinks we. She thinks I would do that. Well, if it causes her that much pain—ignoring that stomach feeling once more—then I shall not correct her.

'I expect to see you scrubbing the inside of this cabin tomorrow morning,' he said calmly. 'If you start talking that way on the deck, people will start to believe I'm going soft. Then, you are going to mend my ripped clothes, and then you will do your regular job. Perhaps then you will learn the value of manners. Mine are such I would not flog a woman for those words, whereas I would a man.'

He stood. 'If you haven't finished all I want of you in two days, you will not be permitted to leave this ship, nor shy away from any new recruits who may want to know you.'

Enjoying the horrified look on Mel's face, the captain opened the door and bowed low. 'I want you to wear that dress during the work, too,' he commented. 'Though you're getting thinner. It might be difficult to wear it with decency. Until tomorrow, Miss Melanie.'

She shut her eyes for a second, composing herself, and then got up regally, all skirts and hair, and left quickly. As she passed, he slapped her hip and bottom, and slammed the door in her face as she turned to protest.

He felt entirely justified in her punishment. He did not feel satisfied with what she believed him to be. He was a gentleman, it was what separated him from his crew, but…there were times when he had to remind himself of that fact. Mel had an uncanny ability to pick out his flaws and lay them bare for him to see, and he did not like it one whit.

Yet he doubted punishing her would make either of them feel better. He needed to tell her what had really happened that night, and he didn't know why it was important that a mere trinket like Miss Melanie had to be told the truth.

Confused and angry, Brice picked up an old blue pottery plate, chipped and only used for serving vegetables now, and flung it at the wall. It smashed, scattering both food and sharp shards over the floor. Blowing out the candle and making care to grind the mess in with his heel, Brice stalked to his room and slammed the door.

Brice awoke to a knocking on his door. He sleepily stumbled to it, before catching sight of himself in the glass. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, smoothing his hair and hitching up his rough trousers, he opened the door to see an extremely ragged Melanie, with tangled hair, windswept and glaring at the seaspray that had presumably drenched her.

He couldn't stop himself grinning wickedly at her. 'The sea is on my side where your manners are concerned, it seems.'

She ignored his taunts, and said, with a face as blank and as white as a slab of new chalk, 'I'm here to clean.'

He frowned. Why was she not as passionate as she had been the day before? She now showed no outward emotion at all. 'Not only that, Miss Melanie,' he tried, uneasily. 'To learn.'

Again, the girl betrayed no flicker of feeling to show on her face. She dragged in her cloth and two pails—one of water, one empty. Mel knelt down, wincing as a pottery shard dug into her knee. She tossed her hair back and purposefully went about her task.

'What, no curtsey?' he asked, trying to keep confusion from his voice.

'Sir, if I am to leave this ship, I must finish my tasks. Curtseying may hinder that process,' Mel told him, neglecting to mention that the bodice was so loose now that if she curtseyed he could probably see everything.

Brice shrugged. 'Suit yourself. It's down to one day for your impertinence,' he added as he left for his room, half-hoping to have her to himself once the crew left ship.

Aside from a tightening of her lips, the girl did not seem reactive. Brice stared at the door as it shut on him, completely befuddled. That girl…what on Earth? Why can't I understand her?

Although Brice had tried to find something to pick up on, he could not fault Mel's work in his cabin, or with his mending. However, he was still determined that she should work through all of her punishment, so, having allowed her some food and to change into her work dress, he sent her out with a small lamp to scrub a section of deck, in the dark, and with it raining.

Mel did not appreciate it. The rain rendered any work she did useless, and eventually she called it a night and huddled under some steps, waiting for it to stop until she could go to her cabin.

It was so quiet, this late. She'd never realised just how much. Now she felt lonelier than ever. Desperate for company, she began to talk to herself, to act out her thoughts and try to solve her problems. It was an exercise her nurse—a former player—had taught her, and Mel always found it a comfort.

'I hate him. No, I don't,' she paused. 'I find him attractive, and exciting. And if only he weren't captain of pirate ship…' she sighed. 'He would be the type of man I would have loved to court me back home.'

The rain slowed from a formidable drumming, and Mel poked her head out from under the stairs. She made her way to her cabin, and shut the door.

From the top step, Captain Brice lowered the dress he was going to give to her for her leave, and slowly grinned.

They had finally docked at a small, private port. Mel was ecstatic at seeing land again, and being able to walk on it. Her excitement was perhaps contagious, she thought dreamily. The captain had handed her her dress for the leave with a bright smile, instead of his usual raking gaze. He had even included monies in the leather purse, and Mel was nearly dancing as he led her down the gangplank, up a seedy alleyway, and opposite The Dancing Bear tavern. For some reason, he seemed almost nervous, Mel reflected. He was running a hand through his hair, tweaking his hat to just the right angle and brushing down his doublet. About to ask why, he knocked on the door and a blonde in a green dress opened it immediately.

'My dears, come see who it is!' she cried, smiling, to the rest of the house. 'It's Eddie!'

'Eddie?!' came a flurry of voices, and quite suddenly it was if a flock of exotic, beautiful birds had come to flap around him. Mel watched, amused, as several of them pinched his cheeks, took off his hat and ruffled his hair, and even tutted at his earring.

'—such a rebel, really, Edward, what did you do to that poor Commodore? His hat was torn to shreds!—'

'—still hard on your clothes, I see! Haven't you learnt to darn yet? Red wool! Red!—'

'And who's this?'

Suddenly three girls in particular seemed to be looking hard at Melanie. She wanted to sink into the ground.

'Er,' said Brice, scrubbing the lipstick marks off his cheek with the back of his hand, 'Delia, Katherine, Elizabeth—this is my new…'

He paused, while the girls scrutinised Mel.

'He kidnapped me,' she supplied. The three turned to stare at Brice.

'I didn't! Well…only a little bit…' he mumbled, turning red under their gaze. 'Um. Can she stay with you for a day or so?'

'Certainly, Edward,' said the oldest woman in the group, about forty. 'I'm Alexandra,' she told Mel, smiling. 'You?'

'Her name is M-'

'Eddie, darling, I asked her,' the woman berated, as Brice blushed deeper and flapped a hand at the tittering girls.

'Melanie,' Mel said, smiling at everyone nervously, burning to ask how they knew the fearsome captain of the Floating Angel.

Fortunately, Katherine solved that dilemma for her. 'Edward, you still owe me that sixpence,' she said. 'He roomed with us, once, nine or so years ago, before he decided he wanted the bold, silly player's life of a pirate,' she added, and held out her hand.

Brice fumbled with his coin-purse for a moment and dropped something shining and silver into Katherine's hand. 'Miss Melanie,' he bowed. 'Ladies.'

He high-tailed it away after that, leaving Mel rather in a lurch, and not knowing whether to laugh at him like the others or just stay silent. She elected for silence, standing awkwardly off to the side until Delia sidled up to her.

'Did 'e really kidnap you?'

Mel thought it over, and then nodded. 'I think so. I was shipwrecked—' here she spotted the girls nodding wisely—'and he took me to his ship, and told me, basically, that the island was bristling with his men and he wanted me on board because he had 'long-term' plans for me.'

'He's not really a bad egg,' Delia told her soothingly. 'Not 'less you tried to kill him.'

'I did stab him,' she admitted, and to her amazement Alexandra let out a laugh. 'It's what he deserved for years of insubordination,' she let the girl know. 'Into the house of loose women, I suppose!'

Clutching her small leather bag, Mel followed the girls.

The cabin boy approached the captain, a questioning look on his face. 'Sir?' Sam asked timidly.

Brice surveyed the boy. 'This isn't about what Miss Melanie said to you, is it?'

Sam shook his head, blond hair falling into his eyes. 'Nome. It's—no offence, sir, but how can you be sure she'll come back?'

'Sam,' Brice said grandly. 'When you are a captain, you will know. I just know she will. I have power over her.'

The cabin boy raised his eyebrows. As he left, Brice mumbled to himself, 'Well, it's not a big town if she does give me the slip…'

Suddenly feeling slightly worried, Brice nodded to his first mate. 'Make sure the girl doesn't try and leave alone,' he muttered. 'And be sure to alert me if there's any trouble.'

The man nodded, and skulked off with a few friends. The captain tried to realise why he'd added the second part, and then shook his head. She wanted him. She would cause none. Would she?

'…an' then, he was standing out in his skivvies, and Lizzie jus' looked at him, right, and he just damn nearly died of shame,' Delia chuckled, regaling the girls with stories of Brice's earlier life, rooming at the brothel.

'Tis a shame, though,' said Alexandra, passing round a bottle, 'That he wasn't livin' as to what he was entitled to.'

Mel looked confused, smoothing down her dress and pulling up the bodice a little. 'What was he entitled to?' she asked, bemused. 'Surely, gentlemen with other options do not choose piracy—'

'Ah. No,' said Alexandra, smacking her lips and redoing her bun. 'See, our Eddie…his name isn't really Eddie. His first name is Brice…'

She looked round at the other girls, as if to confirm whether to tell Mel or not.

Slowly, 'He's Brice de Winter.'

Mel was so startled, she dropped her purse, and paled. Katherine watched her patiently for a few seconds, and then announced that if Melanie did not pull herself together, she was going to lose her bag. Blushing, and retrieving it, Alexandra saw that her hands were shaking.

The older woman leant forward. Kindly, she asked 'Oughtn't we to have told you, love?'

'Oh! No…I mean, yes, you should have—but that means he's rich. His family's famous in their wealth! Practically eligible at court in a few years, if all goes well, ' Mel stuttered. 'Higher up than I.'

'Than any of us,' put in Delia. 'But 'e left home when he was about your age, maybe a bit younger—that's when he stayed with us for two years. An'…then went off to be a pirate.'

'But a de Winter? Hadn't it been drummed into them since they could walk that piracy was bad?'

'I daresay. Brice has never been one for following the rules, as you may have guessed,' Delia smirked. 'But he's never abandoned the unofficial rules for a gentleman, wherever ladies were involved. Except perhaps the one about sex before marriage,' she added archly, glancing at Katherine. 'But—put it this way—he never had to pay for her services, and when they did part, it was with no bitterness on his part.'

Mel coughed, the memory of waking up his cabin surfacing again. 'But pirates rape, and pillage.'

Elizabeth laughed. 'Our Eddie may pillage, but he never rapes. That's for common seamen. He would never treat a woman so badly—though I gather, with you, he's been toying with your head?'

Relieved someone else understood, Mel nodded. 'I—he is confusing. He leads me to believe I shall be free in a matter of weeks, and then suddenly announces he's changing course—the most severe incident, however…' she paused, aware the others were looking at her intently. 'I know not how it happened, but I found myself wakening in his living area, placed on a settee, and he was by me—he refused to explain what had happened the night before.'

As Elizabeth and Katherine exchanged significant glances, Delia leapt up, frowning. 'Wait. How much of the night can you not remember?'

'I—a little after our meal,' Melanie told her, confused. Delia twitched her nose, and considered. 'Did he offer you wine?'

'Yes—'

'Nightbloom powder,' Alexandra said immediately. 'I take it, dear, you hadn't been sleeping?'

'Yes, but I don't see—'

Delia settled herself down, reaching for a packet of violet powder from her bodice. 'It's what we use, sometimes, if a customer is too rowdy. Lace their drink with this, they're out like a light, they wake up next morning and pay us anyway. He took some with him.'

Mel touched her throat. 'So, he could have—'

Katherine rapped her smartly on the arm with her fan. 'Listen up, lass! Brice wouldn't. You were having trouble sleeping, in his mind, he helped.'

'Oh. I didn't know,' the girl replied humbly.

'You weren't to,' said Delia soothingly. 'He must have a good liking of you, this stuff isn't cheap and I suspect it's hard to find 'less he gets it from here.'

Katherine snorted. 'Brice has a liking from everyone, but to very few. I think a few more trinkets should secure the certainty of his affection for you, girl.'

Noticing Mel's blush, Elizabeth poked her friend in the ribs. 'Come on, Melanie. I suspect you are in need of some womanly accessories? Come to the market with us.'

Hastily, Mel got up and gathered herself, giving the other girls a wide, but pink-tinged, smile.

'Let's.'

The mirror had been sitting there, just on a cloth-covered junk-stall in market, innocently buried under the old shawls and printed ballads. Mel, however, was so overcome with joy at interacting with people who were not pirates, that she delved in to find any pretty things. Alexandra had waved away her request as to where she could find cloth pads for her monthlies, explaining that her own had stopped and she had a surplus. Mel was delighted by her generosity, and now estimated Brice might have given her enough for something to pretty herself.

'Oh! Look at this!' she exclaimed to Delia, passing her the mirror. It was silver and jade, all the way from China, the stallholder explained. 'It matches your eyes, and your dress,' she told Melanie.

'But it's surely more than I have,' the girl replied grudgingly.

'Three pounds,' the woman admitted. 'But I do have some earbobs made of the same that may be cheaper. Ninepence.'

Mel opened her purse, and stopped dead. Delia looked at her oddly. 'What is it?'

'Ten…pounds!' Melanie managed to gasp. 'He gave me ten pounds!'

Delia's eyes widened, and, taking three, thrust them at the stallkeeper. 'The mirror, please!'

Mel was still in a daze as they got to the corner of Produce Road, but she kept her grip on the mirror steady. Delia laughed, and walked ahead with the others.

'Girlie!'

Mel looked around in confusion. The man who was signalling her was in a Navy uniform. 'You dropped this?'

He held up something glittering. Melanie stepped forward, squinting. 'No, I don't believe s—'

Three other Navy men surrounded the girl and pushed her into the alcove with the first. She screamed, even as one tried to gag her with his hand. Now Mel almost felt thankful for pirate tricks. She spat, hard, into his hand, flailing madly. As soon as she had an arm free, she swung round the hand that held the beauteous jade mirror.

Right into his face. He groaned as the cold glass hit it and splintered. Before she knew it, he had dropped and another man was trying to catch her. Battering him with the cut face of the looking-glass, she squeaked in fright as she espied other men running towards them. But what was this--? The crew! Underlings, ones she did not even know the names of, rushing to help! And was that the first mate--?

Mel huddled in that alcove as the first Naval man crawled away, staring at the blood-spattered fragments of metal. When every man of the Navy was unmoving or unlikely to move soon, the pirates melted away, the first mate giving her a gallant bow.

As soon as they were all gone, Delia came running up, with Alexandra hot on her heels. 'Melanie! Are you hurt?' she cried.

Melanie shook her head, and stumbled down, trembling.

'They broke my mirror,' was all she could whisper, and Alexandra, knowing she was overwhelmed at Navy man acting much more inappropriately than anyone (save that crewman) on the pirate ship, held her close.

'Just goes to show you can't trust first impressions,' put in Delia meaningfully, and, stepping over the small piles of crushed metal and glass, helped accompany Melanie home.

Brice was jolted from his reading of the ship's records by a knocking at his door.

'Sir?'

It was the first mate. Brice stood and nodded. 'What is it?'

'It—there was some trouble. She didn't try and run—some Navy men assaulted her.'

Brice's eyes hardened. The hapless officer continued. 'She smashed one in the face with her mirror—it broke, I have some fragments—and the rest of the crew helped. Um. Delia's lot have her back now. I just…thought you should know.'

The captain grabbed his coat and sword, and shoved his way through the door. 'I take it they're still on the street? Let's help 'em wake up, and tell them what they can and can't do to my—to a lady.'

Melanie had bid a fond farewell to her friends the next morning at the docks, having been quiet most of the rest of the day. They had avoided the market square, and as such had no idea what Brice had done to any of the Naval officers.

As Melanie walked back up the gangplank, Sam whistled to get her attention. 'Captain wants to see you,' he let her know.

Mel groaned theatrically. 'What've I done now?'

'Nothing bad, Miss, I assure you,' said Brice's voice in her ear, making her jump. She turned crimson and turned, watching him grin at her.

'My cabin? I think we need to talk about some things that happened last night,' he said sternly, and Mel bit her lip. Following him, watching her new green skirts swish across the deck, the girl walked slowly portwards, until he let her in and shut the door.

'So. I heard there was a problem with the Navy.'

She sniffed. 'They were not worthy to wear the uniform.'

'Sadly, Miss Melanie, many aren't. There are very few pure men in the Navy—what made it all the more horrific was that they believed they were just having a prostitute for free—correct me if I'm wrong, but I do not believe you have ever been one.'

'Once again, sir, such a rude question.'

He looked faintly amused. 'I am sorry for your ordeal. Heaven knows none of my crew, nor I, would stoop that low.'

He paused for a moment to look her straight in the eyes, searching for something. Mel swallowed. If he was trying to tell her he hadn't taken advantage of her, she was inclined to believe him. However cruel he had been, his story corroborated with that of Delia's…and she had not know him a liar.

He presented her with a parcel, bowing low. 'I think this may please you. And no, it is not stolen. I knew you would not take it, if it was.'

Curiously, Mel unwrapped the brown paper and gasped. Another jade-and-silver looking-glass, with matching hairbrush. Brice wordlessly motioned to his desk, where sat a splintered piece of jade one of the pirates must have brought back from the fight. 'I wanted to compensate you,' he muttered. 'Were those the correct ones?'

She nodded, speechless.

'Say 'thank you',' he prompted, amused.

'T-thank you,' she stuttered, still gazing at the ornaments. 'I—how can I--?'

He waved a hand gallantly. 'They are gifts. A token of my…affection, for you, if you will,' he added, smirking.

Melanie looked up sharply. Right, right, not as stupid as she looks, Brice reminded himself hastily.

'What do you mean by that, sir?' she asked him.

'Nothing, my lady,' he said, hoping the added charm would sway her from her line of question.

It did not work. 'I was under the impression you held no affection for me whatsoever,' she began. Brice gave a warning glance.

'I do not wish to pursue the matter any longer,' he said coolly, and found, to his amazement, he genuinely didn't.

Even more amazingly, Mel shut up. She dropped a curtsey, and smiled. 'Thank you, sir.'

Brice smiled and walked over to her, helping her up. 'It was my pleasure,' he said softly, and without thinking, kissed her on the forehead. He did not realise his mistake until he felt the girl stiffen, and immediately released her.

'I am sorry, Miss Melanie,' he said hurriedly, bowing low. 'For being quite so bold.'

Mel just stood there, still. 'Oh….I—'

Brice was astounded to see that she was blushing. He felt he had the measure of the girl by now, and if she hadn't hit him by now then she had probably liked it.

'Miss Melanie?' he prompted.

The girl turned to leave. 'I thank you for the trinkets. I shall see you at dinner.'

He could have sworn he heard her, as she slipped away: 'I do not mind such boldness from you.'

Dinner was not to be. Not two hours after they had set off again, trouble seemed to arise. Another pirate ship seemed to be tailing them. Everyone seemed to know the drill. Mel was ordered to stay in her cabin, and she did so, trembling in fear.

They know what they're doing they know what they're doing

Cannon fire, smell of gunpowder, distant yells.

Don't worry they chose this life the crew are strong

Muskets! The pounding of feet on the deck up ahead, Sam squealing.

I don't feel safe I want to go I want to be in someone's arms and they make everything ok—

A shot ripped ahead, scoring a deep line in her roof. Mel lurched from her bed and opened the deck door.

Carnage. People choking, others screaming. Mel stood in the middle, face shocked, like some new goddess of war.

'Don't just stand there, girl!' yelled one man. 'Roll over a cannon ball!'

Mel darted over to where the man was pointing and tried to shove the heavy weapon his way.

'Last one should do it,' muttered the crewman, 'They're backing off.'

But as Mel managed to stand after somehow helping him, a man on the other ship fired at her with his musket. The shot caught her in the stomach and threw her to the floor. The captain, surveying his crew after the attack, was one of the first to see her, eyes shut and with a worried Sam by her side.

'MEL!'

'She's not dead,' Sam told him as he threw the poor boy aside. 'She's breathing, and she's not bleedin' out—'

'You ignorant boy!' he snapped. 'Get the doctor, it could have hit her stomach, and we need her.'

The crew looked blank. 'To WASH,' Brice improvised. 'We can't lose her now.'

It seemed to work. Brice said a silent apology to her and ripped open the front of her gown, to see her corset, with the lead musket ball sticking out of it. Thankfully, it looked like half of a big one, had not flown well and so had not killed her. But it still remained a mystery if it had broken any of her bones, and as Brice attempted to lever the evil grey lump out, he heard a cracking noise. He immediately stopped and ripped off his coat to keep her warm until the doctor came.

When the doctor finally did come, he refused Brice entry into his workroom. Sam, worried, brought the milk-pale captain hot drink after soup after biscuit. He refused to eat, and even looked sick. Sam assumed it was because she counted as one of his crew, and he was always like this if a crew member was hurt.

Sam was only twelve.

Finally, the doctor allowed Brice in. Unusually, the physician himself was kept outside.

'Miss Melanie?'

No response.

'Mel?'

No response. Brice looked down at her sallow face, pale lips and freckles that stood out like inkblots. He had felt that sick, swooping feeling again when he saw her knocked down, and it hadn't gone away yet.

He lowered his face to hers. 'Mel?'

Her eyes opened slowly, and Brice pulled back. Handing her some water, he spoke. 'And so you will be alright,' he reassured her. 'The musketeer was inexperienced—he got your corset, the whalebone cracked. You will have a wound on your side for a few weeks though, and I officially excuse you duty then. I order you, in fact, to stay in your bed and rest.'

Muzzily, she blinked at him. 'You called me Mel.'

He raised his eyebrows.

'When I got knocked down. I could hear for a bit before I hit my head. You called me Mel.'

'So what if I did, lady?' Brice said uncomfortably.

Melanie blinked. 'I am not sure. It means something, but my head is too addled—'

'Sleep,' he advised, standing up too quickly. 'Does your head hurt?'

'Yes,' she replied, frowning. 'Why?'

'Only that I would be bold again,' he smirked, and exited.

Mel had had a week or so to ponder the captain's words. He had not visited her again while she was awake, but had Sam bring her some plays from his own shelves. It was on this occasion, whilst she was reading the Queen Mab speech in Romeo and Juliet, that her door swung open and Sam trotted in.

'I think the captain wants you to join him for dinner tonight,' he let her know. 'I heard it.'

'Where?' answered Mel, amused.

'In his cabin. I think he was makin' a list. I was getting him some more water.'

'That was eavesdropping,' Mel said without conviction.

He grinned brightly at her. 'It was, weren't it? So, don't be surprised if you receive a summons. Though he seemed really nervous 'bout it.'

'Whyever would that be?'

Sam shrugged. 'I dunno. He said something about admitting and feelings, too, but then he saw me and chucked me out. I think he's got to go and tell the cook he were just sparing his feelings with the turnip soup, nobody below-decks likes it.'

Mel's eyebrows shot up, just as the captain walked in. 'Miss Mela—Sam, what are you doing here?'

'Givin' her some more plays,' Sam replied, innocently producing Hamlet from about his person. 'G'bye, sir, Miss.'

He left and shut the door behind him. Brice took his place self-consciously at her side.

'How are you feeling?'

'Better, thank you.'

'Will you join me tonight for dinner?'

'I suppose I shall,' said Mel, clearing her throat as she thought of what Sam had said.

He looked pleased. 'Excellent. I, ah…I have another gown for you, as an apology for ruining your old one.'

He indicated to the inside of the door, where he had hooked a pure red dress up. It had an even lower neckline to her first one. Mel raised her eyebrows.

'Truly, it is one new I bought with you in mind, fair lady,' he said. 'I shall see you.'

He bowed, and was gone. Mel got out of bed, wincing as the healing wound in her side protested. The dress did seem new, and beautiful. She trusted he had bought it. He actually seemed to care now.

In what way? She asked herself, but got no answer.

Mel announced her arrival with an elegant knock at the door. Brice threw it open—he had been waiting—and was struck by her beauty. It seemed when Miss Melanie wanted to make an effort, she achieved it by fair means or foul.

Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, pinned with a striking pin topped with a red rose. It shone in the candlelight, and there was not a hair out of place. Dark lines lined her green eyes, and the dress complimented her skin and blossomed out beautifully at the waist. She smiled at him, and curtseyed. Bowing low, Brice let her in.

'Sir.'

'Brice,' he corrected her. 'I give you my permission to call me that now, when we're alone together.'

Her cheeks bloomed pink. 'Very well. Then I suppose you must drop the 'Miss' from mine.'

'Melanie,' he said, tasting it. 'It sounds much more familiar—are you sure you do not mind?'

She swallowed her shyness. 'I do not mind, not from you.'

Brice was now sure of her attraction to him. Boldly, he strode over to her and took her hand. 'Is that what you said after I kissed your forehead?'

'It is,' Mel said breathlessly, quite sure he was going to do something. He did not disappoint.

'First I need to know if you will be staying with us,' he said seriously. 'Because if you are not—I know your aversion to killing, and truthfully, I do not enjoy it. I will take you back to Dover if I lie, but Melanie, I promise neither I nor my crew shall kill another whilst you are with us.'

'You want me on board?'

'I have grown…very much accustomed to you. I realised how much when you were injured.'

'Oh,' she said glumly. Accustomed. 'I am not sure.'

Something made her look up. Brice pulled her closer, and then, slowly and nervously, lowered his lips to hers.

Mel was paralysed with fear for a minute. She had no idea what to do. However, he seemed to know what he was doing, and she mimicked him. This was a fair step away from the courtship rituals back home—more hurried—and it almost suited her.

Eventually, the kiss ended. Brice's eyes were glittering as he spoke. 'If you stay with us, I promise this is how it will be. No more menial work for you. Lady, I would be yours. I have found myself in love with you. From what Sam has told me of your brain in this past week, I would say you are ideal for a higher post here. Accept, I beg of you.'

His eyes bored into her. 'Stay with me.'

Love? Mel wondered. 'I believe I wish to stay on. But sir—your declaration of love seems to have been put there rather quickly. I cannot count myself in love with you yet, even if I do find you attractive…and witty…oh, and everything I would like to see in a man--! Brice. I wish myself in love with you. But I am not yet.'

The man's eyes saddened, and he let her go. 'Oh.' Mel could see his cheeks burning, and hastened to reassure him.

'I do not think you foolish—'

'I do,' he replied sharply.

Mel lost her temper. 'Look,' she said. 'I want to stay on. I almost don't mind it here. You make it better. I don't know if I'm in love with you yet! It would make me sad to leave—sir. Why not try courting me first? I know of your name. De Winter. And I know you were brought up to accept the same social norms.'

Brice turned, hopeful. 'I would ask how you know my name, but you stayed with Delia. Melanie, would you truly let me?'

She smiled. 'Of course.'

He bowed low. 'Then I shall accept. I can only hope you will do the same for me in time.'

I'm halfway there, thought Mel dreamily, and as he straightened, she kissed his cheek.

The next few months would be very interesting.