Prologue

"Do you miss it?" she asked quietly. Her long hair was like a curtain around her face as she leaned over him, so that they could talk face to face. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the image of her, trying to hold on to consciousness. The darkness was descending. He knew. His limbs felt weak. "Aye," he whispered. His arms and legs were starting to go numb, whether from the cold or the ropes that bound them tightly to the ground, he couldn't say.

She shifted. One strand of hair slowly passed over his face as he sensed her withdrawing. Ah, good things don't last forever, the man thought as he relaxed and gave himself into the comfort of darkness.

Chapter one; A Pirate is Born

Annabel.

Annabel Hawthorn was furious. This was a usual sight for everyone who lived Hawthorn manor. Unfortunately, Annabel sulking wasn't a good sight to behold.

"FATHER!" she yelled as she stomped up the staircase, towards Lord Hawthorns study. The servants cringed away from her as she barreled down the hallway into her father's study. He was sitting at his large maghony desk, going over some papers from Hawthorn Valley . He sighed as he heard the muffled little taps of her shoe on the carpeted floor. "What now, Annie?" he said warily, as he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm, "really, child I do not have time for this, I –"

"How could you?" Annie screamed. Annie didn't consider herself a screamer, but this situation definitely called for a girl to shriek her head off. And it wasn't even a Sunday! Nobody was trying to drag her of to church. "How could I what?" He looked exhausted and badly in need of a good night's sleep and, for a moment, Annie felt a hint of pity for the man. That is, until she remembered what he had done.

She brandished her finger at him. "You gave me to Fatty Harry!" she accused, her voice filled with outrage. "I knew you were going to try and get me married off, but to Fatty Harry? Father, are you serious? Him? Ha! You wouldn't get me married to the Duke of –"

"ENOUGH!" Annie stopped in shock. It wasn't like her father to yell. In fact, she never heard him yell. Never, not even when she dropped wet sponges on the footmen last week.

Maybe she shouldn't have done that.

Lord Hawthorn stood up and walked around his desk to face his daughter. Despite the fact that he was a stout man and had more hair on his back then his head, he had that air of authority that made everyone take him very seriously. Annie knew when she had crossed the line, so she wisely kept her mouth closed.

"Annabel Susannah Hawthorn," Her father said slowly. Uh oh she thought, the full name assault. Lord Hawthorn took s step closer to his daughter. He was a head shorter than her and had to tip his head back to look at Annie. He had beady green eyes, a little mustache that twitched – er, was twitching – when he got really upset or angry. Somehow, Annie was always reminded of a mole when she looked at her father. Not that she would ever say that aloud. He was her father after all. She focused her attention back to her father. "Annabel, do not ever," Lord Hawthorn paused for emphasis, "ever, speak to me in that manner, again," Chastened, Annie nodded, keeping her head down. She heard Lord Hawthorn sigh again. "Annie" She looked up. "Yes, father?" she asked softly. Her father massaged the space between his eyebrows gently. He looked like he had a terrible headache. "Annie, please sit down," he motioned to the chairs in front of his desk, usually reserved for his business dealings. Annie glanced nervously at her father as he sat down heavily in his chair. Oh, something bad was about to happen, she could feel it. She lowered herself into one of the chairs. Annie suddenly felt uncomfortable, sitting in front of a big, masculine desk. She felt so small and insignificant when she swept her eyes over it. There were scratches on the surface, where the quill tips had passed, burns of candles an wax. The ring with the family insignia rested on a pile of unused parchments. Her eyes rested on the ring for a moment. The ring was decades old, made of wrought silver, twisting to make a lion. She thought it was beautiful.

"Annie," she snapped her gaze back to my father. His expression was serious. He sighed and spoke bluntly, "Annie, we need money," Annie looked at her father with wide eyes. "we need money," he repeated," the estates are not as productive as they used to be, after the hurricane," Lord Hawthorn swallowed painfully," they all went downhill, even when the estates where reconstructed," he said sadly.

Annie looked down at her lap. She knew he was referring to the hurricane that happened last year, the one that had snatched her mother away from her. If she closed her eyes she could still here her mother's screams…'Annabel! Annabel! Oh, Lord, have mercy...' Annie squeezed her eyes together, willing the voice away by sheer force. "Annabel," her father's voice interrupted, "we need the money, and this isn't only us we are talking about, the tenants….they need supplies."

Annie's head spun. She often wished for her father to take her seriously. She was eighteen, for the love of goose! She wanted to be taken seriously. The other girls her age were different. They were content as long as they got pretty ribbons for their hair and beautiful gowns. But then, that was how they were brought up. When she was young, her mother used to fill her head with stories about pirates, gold and adventure. Of course, Annie sucked them all up. Before she knew it, she was longing for the thrill of the sea. She had been on a ship once, for a water party and she had loved the soothing rocking of the boat.

Annie stared at her father. She knew he was doing this for the better, but how do you sell ones daughter to the highest bidder? How could you? Easy, whispered a small voice in Annie's head, people do it all the time, doesn't matter if you're his only daughter. Annie continued to stare at her father, her expression turning from horrified to unbelievable anger. She was his daughter! The thought kept repeating in her head. Unable to speak, Annie nodded t her father, turned and left the room. She heard her father calling, but she didn't look back. No, she had to get away from here, her freedom had been compromised. The only thought left in her head was: get away, get away.

And within the hour, Annie had packed a meager sack and left for Port Royal.