Thanks for sticking with this story. This one & my ideas for (independent) Fallen Kingdom-inspired fics have been battling for dominance in my brain ;)

The next morning, Claire thanked her overlord for his hospitality and, after a short ride to the coast, sailed home to Masrannessey Island. Within the month, word came to the MacWilliam that the transition from the old to the new Dearing had been made smoothly, and that the fleet was sailing once again. So, Owen Grady waited. He was confident that, when Claire was ready, they would be together. Forever. He'd caught her before she left the castle. Placed his mother's claddagh ring in Claire's palm and clasped her fingers around it. The promise needed no words. His intentions were as clear as her acceptance. He also couldn't speak, for fear of making himself a fool, breaking down, or both. It pained him to watch her at dinner the night before. Claire was the perfect dinner guest. She entertained his father with tales of the sea and laughed at all the old man's jokes. Owen caught Victor admiring her breasts, repeatedly. He was almost as riled up by his father as he was by Claire, but with a completely different context. At the end of the meal, she retired to her chambers without so much as a glance toward Owen. He'd never wanted to ravish her more. After she'd left them, the MacWilliam chided his heir for not doing just that. Owen gritted his teeth and kept his promise to give her time. He needed to give himself space from her or risk breaking that promise.

The small, prosperous trading empire of the Dearings grew more prosperous through Claire's skillful handling, and the MacWilliam was forced to admit that Simon Dearing had known exactly what he was doing when he had placed his daughter in charge. How she would behave in wartime was another matter, and he had yet to call upon her for that. Zachary and Grayson, at eight and six, had begun the process of learning about the sea, the ships, and their late father's half-legal, half-illegal methods of doing business. Zachary was assigned to Charlotte, and Grayson went aboard Rhône Delta. Neither ship would ever be out when the other was also out, and occasionally the boys were at home at the same time, which gave Claire a chance to see her half-brothers working together, and to evaluate them as they grew. Each was a true Dearing, taking to the sea as to an old and respected friend. Claire wished her father could have seen them, for he would have been proud.

Six months after taking the reins of the Dearing fleet, Claire received word from Father Barry that the Church had granted her annulment from Lowery Cruthers. Barry had long ago returned to his diocese in France but wished her happiness. Prior to sharing the news with the household, Claire rode Rex out to the orchard where she and Owen had first kissed. She cherished the solitude to ruminate on her past, present, and future. Walking amongst the trees, she felt her body stirring in places that had been dormant for what seemed like much longer than half a year. She was starved for physical company but hadn't sought carnal delights with anyone. The temptation to contact Owen grew stronger with each passing day. Her resistance wasn't because she didn't love him. She firmly believed that he was the only man for her and always would be. But, Claire was no longer a girl whose only interest was her man and their babes. She likely never really was. She sighed as she rolled the claddagh between her fingers. It hung on a chain around her neck, close to her heart. Freshly granted an annulment, should she rush into marriage again? How would that appear to her sailors? Her half-brothers?

Wanting others' unconditional respect was why she chose not to wear the ring on her finger. She refused to give an impression that her decisions might be compromised by her romantic entanglement with their overlord. Claire knew, however, that was not the full truth. She was still smarting from Owen's lack of trust in her. She'd opened up to Karen once about it and immediately regretted her decision. Karen remained wracked with guilt over her role in the deception. She blamed herself for Claire and Owen's current distance. With a heavy heart, Claire returned to Dearing castle to re-engage with her stepmother about this sensitive topic.

Karen gasped and spoke in a hushed tone, "Expect a formal proposal from the MacWilliam on behalf of his son any day now." They were sitting in Karen's private salon, but Claire felt the walls were listening. She cringed at the thought of receiving that offer before she was ready. Father Barry had no doubt alerted Owen, and Victor's patience was likely wearing thin. Karen looked on her with profound confusion. "Don't you want a proposal?"

"Of course I do," Claire nearly shouted. Her temper was flaring. "But...I have terms."

"Beware," warned the older woman, "You swore fealty to them both."

"Let them beware also! I am Claire Dearing and not to be trifled with."

"Aye. They won't make that mistake again." Karen gave her a conspiratorial smile. She seemed more at peace compared to the last time the two women discussed the subject. Karen asked shrewdly, "What is it you want? Specifically?"

"My marriage must not affect my status as the Dearing, and neither must my husband or my father-in-law interfere with that. The responsibility for the clan remains mine until I see fit to pass it on to one of my brothers. Da wanted it that way. I will not have the Gradys dabbling greedy fingers into the Dearing coffers or meddling in my business affairs! I will come to them with a dowry worthy of a princess, but that is all they will receive." Her stepmother nodded.

"You're wise and ruthless, but I don't know if the MacWilliam will swallow such a bitter pill. He's a sly old man."

"If he thinks he can outsmart me," Claire scoffed, "Victor Grady has another thing coming." Her posture stiffened. "He seeks me for his son not for my bonnie green eyes or pretty tits. He sees our ships, but they are not mine to give. They belong to Zachary and Grayson, and I will not cheat my father's sons out of their inheritance. I can offer that wicked old man a bigger dowry than any of the aristocratic wenches of Ireland."

Karen giggled, "I envy your bold spirit." Her face abruptly darkened. "What of your heart, Claire? I haven't forgotten Simon's last words." Claire bit her lip to prevent it from quivering. Karen had always envied the bond that Simon had with his youngest daughter. At death's door, he still placed Claire above his wife.

"Da truly loved you, Karen, more so than my mother." The other woman didn't stop her quivering lip and began to cry.

"Owen Grady loves you, Claire." The new Dearing chief's insecurities were embarrassingly obvious.

Claire stifled a groan and responded in a deadly serious tone, "That is what I must know. The last time, he accepted his father's will too easily and didn't fight for me. Now, he must battle the MacWilliam to prove his love."

"And if Victor refuses your terms?"

"He won't." Claire swallowed hard. "If he does, then Owen would wed with me anyway if he really loves me." Karen nodded and took a stuttering breath. Claire hugged her and whispered, "No more tears for Owen and I. Please. I've shed enough for us all."

"Don't let the MacWilliam know that," Karen teased. "'Tis best he believe you to be cold and calculating." Claire laughed with an exuberance she hadn't felt in a long time. A weight seemed to have lifted, and she allowed herself to daydream again.

The MacWilliam roared with outrage upon receipt of Claire's letter. He tossed it to Owen for his perusal. The young man's eyes popped wide with delight, and his father snorted. Claire was indeed a force to be reckoned with. Not only did she buck tradition by writing Victor a request for marriage with his heir - it should have been the other way around - but she demanded that, in marriage with Lord Grady, she was to remain the Dearing and retain complete control of the trading empire. Owen was beside himself with excitement. Time was up. She was ready to be his wife. Recognizing his son's jubilation, Victor snarled, "The O'Donnells have a fine lass ripe for marriage."

"The devil take her," exclaimed Owen. "'Tis Claire I want, and Claire I'll have - even if I must slit your scrawny throat!"

The MacWilliam looked at his son with an injured air. "If you're that hot for her, then you might as well have her. I hope you'll quickly breed me several grandsons before much more time has passed. I am not growing any younger." Owen grinned, thinking about the activities required for breeding. "Go to her, boy. I don't want to see your smug face around this castle." His father smirked. There was a warmth and wistfulness to his expression the likes of which Owen had never seen. It gave him pause. Victor eventually relented, "Your mother would be pleased with us both."

"Thank you, father."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself," said the MacWilliam with a belly-jiggling laugh. "Your woman has been free of men's demands for some time now. She'll require taming."

"I'd never dream of that. I'll always take Claire as she is."

"May God preserve you then." The older man shook his head as Owen bowed low and practically ran out of the study.

Lord Grady arrived unannounced to Masrannessey Island and was directed to the cloisters to find Claire. For a few minutes, he stood in the shadow of an archway to watch her. He hadn't seen her in a moment of leisure since the day they met on Charlotte's deck. Although barefoot, she was otherwise dressed in the Irish fashion, wearing a bright red skirt of soft, lightweight wool. Her blouse was of fine linen, as white as many washings could make it. The sleeves were short, and it was deep-necked, revealing her breasts when she bent to inhale the sweet fragrances of the rose bushes encircling the central fountain. Her fiery hair was loose and billowed softly about her shoulders in the light breeze. A giant hound walked slowly by her side. She was lovelier than he had remembered, and his blood quickened when he thought of this exquisite woman as his wife. He let his eyes feast on her. Her slim figure moved with such grace. It gave him pleasure just to watch her. When he finally stepped out of the archway, the wolfhound stiffened, his hackles rising before he growled low in warning.

"I'm glad to see you so well guarded, Claire." Her porcelain skin flushed at his approach, and she was fixed in place. He hoped his face conveyed his deep affection for her.

"Put your hand out," she answered softly, "so Dom may get your scent." She patted the dog. "Friend, Dom. Owen is a friend." The overlord suffered himself to be thoroughly sniffed and to be marked with that particular term of endearment. He patted the animal, speaking reassuringly to him, receiving first a long searching look from the liquid amber eyes, and then finally a wet, cold nose pushed into his palm. "He likes you!" Claire cried with glee.

"And if he hadn't?"

"You might have had difficulty claiming your rights as a husband, my lord." She gave him a mischievous smile. She sobered suddenly, and so did he. When he held out his arms to her, she walked into them without a moment's hesitation. His arms closed securely about her, and she stood quietly listening to the rapid beat of his heart just beneath her cheek.

After what seemed a blissful eternity, Owen quipped, "I accept your proposal." She cleared her throat to subdue her nervousness.

"Does your father?" she asked bluntly.

"Yes." Owen almost purred at her body's involuntary response. She melted into him. "Oh, Claire, I'd be here regardless. I wouldn't have missed this." She recognized a crack in his voice as he stroked her hair. "Was it a test?"

"For both of us. I risk much for what I want." She pulled back to look him in the eye. "I want it all Owen. You and the family business."

"You shall have it." He was repeating words that he first spoke on her wedding night. It seemed a lifetime ago, but his promise had been burned into her memory. His eyes flashed with recognition of it. Claire closed her eyes as he cupped her chin and leaned down to kiss her. They were interrupted a moment before their lips met.

"Mistress Claire!" shouted her maid, Peigi. "You must come to port immediately." Peigi paused to catch her breath.

The Dearing traversed the space between them and asked, "What's happened?"

"Barbary pirates have taken command of Charlotte with Zachary and Grayson aboard."

"What?" Claire shouted. "Why were they out together?"

"I can't answer that." Peigi was cowering in fear. Her mistress had never before raised her voice like that. "You'll have to ask Tanaka." Owen stilled at the name. Claire took his hand and squeezed it.

She turned to him and said reassuringly, "He's loyal...to a fault." Addressing Peigi once again, she asked sternly, "Where is Zara? Grayson was in her charge."

"At the port, I suspect. She fancies a young sailor, name of Alec." Peigi's disdain slipped through her panic. Claire rolled her eyes. Some things never changed.

"Why did Tanaka not come here himself?" demanded Claire.

"He's interrogating sailors, including Alec." Peigi's hands shook as she pulled a parchment out of her apron. "Here's the ransom note." The maid curtsied and swiftly left the cloisters. Claire focused intensely on the missive. Owen resisted the impulse to lean over her shoulder to read it. He needed to defer to her, as the Dearing, and they were not yet wed. She sighed as she finished reading and looked at Owen.

"They seek retribution," she announced sadly. "My father supposedly pillaged their treasure on an island in the Azores. They want both the treasure and Deep Blue Sea in exchange for Charlotte and the boys." She took a deep breath. "I'm to meet them on the southern margin of Corvo, or they'll sell the boys into slavery."

Owen radiated with anger and could think only of protecting Claire. He blurted out, "If the boys are gone, the trading empire is fully yours." She blinked rapidly and was stunned. It was short-lived, however, and her eyes slitted with suspicion.

"You mean, yours," she spat. It was Owen's turn to be stunned.

"What?" he stammered. "No no, that's not at all what I mean. How could you think that about me?" They were posturing at each other. Their bodies tense and ready to attack, if necessary.

"How could YOU think that I would abandon my half-brothers?"

"Because their mother wrote that letter to me." He could not conceal his bitterness.

"At my father's request." Claire stepped back from him to calm herself. They were at an impasse. She wouldn't get very far trying to argue this aspect. Owen clearly harbored significant ill will against Karen, and it was clouding his judgment. At least, she hoped this was the reason that he suggested the boys become slaves. Claire changed her tactic. "What about Charlotte? Your mother's namesake ship?" Owen clenched his jaw. "I have to fight for my fleet. I cannot allow a precedent to be set. If I don't act, the empire will constantly be challenged. They won't get away with this." Claire started to walk out of the cloisters, but Owen grasped her hand and tugged her back to face him.

"I'm coming with you to Corvo," he said firmly. He wasn't asking. He was telling her. Several different emotions crossed her features. She was breathing hard. Owen's heart was pounding. He was worried for her but also very aroused. Had they not just been arguing, he would've pulled her into his arms for a searing kiss. Her mouth opened slightly, and her tongue darted out to run over her bottom lip. It might've been unconscious, but maybe she was having similar thoughts. Claire shook her head slightly.

"Of course," she said through a stony expression. "Your help would be vital." Outside of feeling like he'd been drenched with icy water, Owen was relieved that she didn't fight him on this point. They both knew that his naval experience shouldn't be minimized, as it could give them a significant advantage. More importantly, however, there was no way she was putting herself in danger this way without him. He gave her a lopsided grin and thrilled at the thought of them working together as a team. The way she smiled back warmed him to the core.

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