Hello! So I can see that I already broke a promise . I didn't mean for this chapter to be posted as long after the previous one. I had something come up over the weekend and then when I began to work on it again, I revised the whole thing and practically rewrote it all XD So I'm sorry for making you wait but I really want to make the story the best it can be, even if that means a lot of time to be invested in it :O Thanks for all of your support and patience! You guys are awesome :):):)

Contemplations

Davenport Homestead: January 1774

Emma contemplated her conversation with Achilles. Her mission had succeeded, in so that she earned herself a good impression upon meeting the master of the house. That was exactly as she wanted, to earn trust from the doubtful old man. Perhaps she had convinced him that she wasn't what he thought her out to be, after all, he did invite her to a dinner.

She had quite a bit of mixed emotions towards that invitation. She was primarily happy that he would be inclined to make such an intimate offer; an invitation to sit at his dinner table was nothing less than an eager welcome to become acquainted. Though that was encouraging to hear, she felt uneasy about it too. "Join Connor and I," he said. That only meant that she had to be in the company of the brooding native as well, which was not something she wanted. In her mind she decided that trust could cultivate between herself and the seemingly harmless old man but not with Connor. He wasn't harmless, nonetheless friendly or cordial. She found him mysterious, strange, and potentially dangerous. Would a dining table between them be enough to keep him on edge?

Not only that, but she would have to reveal details of herself and life before him. If Achilles' wanted to get to know her, surely he would ask about her life in Boston, family, or personal interests. She would only have to respond to these inquiries in kind to the both of them. The last thing she wanted was for Connor to know her any more deeply than he already did, which wasn't very much to begin with, but that's how she preferred it. In fact, in her opinion, he had known too much. He knew where she worked and what she did for a living. He probably knows of a few of her associates like Julian or Captain Swayde. When she would finally return home, would he pursue her there? Would he simply leave her alone?

She desperately wanted to think so. But a greater problem arose with her family's secret. During the chases between her and Connor in Boston, her father revealed that the Maywoods had been a part of decades-long smuggling operation with Swayde's crew. He told her right before Connor chased her into Peace's clutches, in fact. And Connor revealed that he had seen a piece of paper in her pocket at the Green Dragon Tavern, thinking it was his precious list. It was only a piece of a map she received from her father that day, portraying scattered locations of hidden hoards filled with smuggled goods. Their smuggled goods.

Her heart stopped at the thought. The piece of paper. It was in her jacket pocket when she sat with Julian and even with Eli. It was there when she ran out of the tavern from Connor, and then when Peace caught her. When Peace caught her. He held it in his gloved hands, waving it precariously before all the soldiers and Connor. Her secret wasn't hidden for long that day.

She blinked at a new realization. Was that his reason? To take her home so he could extract more information towards these hoards or even the Swayde operation? It would make sense. The profit he would make…

Her thoughts stopped at the sound of the door opening. Emma looked to her right and saw Lillian step in with a large blanket. After she shut the door with her foot, the old woman walked over to the couch where the injured girl was sitting on and handed her the blanket. Emma smiled at such devotion and stroked it's surface. Before she could say thank you she looked up and saw a glower coming from the old woman's face. That smile vanished.

"That was rude, you know. Fooling me as you did."

I'm sorry." Emma said apologetically. "I just really wanted to talk to him. I didn't mean to disrespect you at all."

"Hm." The old woman turned and walked towards a lone pitcher and cup that sat on a far table.

"I most certainly hope so," the old woman called behind her. "I am not one to favor tricks and schemes, Miss Maywood. If you would please oblige me in never doing that again, I would appreciate it whole heartedly." She brought back the pitcher and a tin cup.

" I won't do it again." Emma said sincerely.

"Good. Now I want to like you, child. And you can't be giving me scares like that."

Emma gave a small smile. "I understand."

The old woman smiled warmly to the young girl's agreement. She turned to her side to fix Emma a glass of water. As she did so, Emma's eyes fell on her. She studied the small frail woman and concluded that her name was appropriate to her appearance. She was wearing a plain yellow dress that was modest and long. Her skin was peach colored and graced with wrinkles and freckles that complimented the contours of her round face. Her long white hair was adorned in a high and large bun. Emma could even make out the remnants of her once golden color sweep over where the ends met in the hairstyle. As the old woman turned back to her, Emma could see a round nose above a set of ripe pink lips. Laugh lines embellished around her eyes, which in themselves were golden, accentuated, and steady. Her beauty was rather alarming.

"Is everything alright, Miss Maywood?"

Emma blinked out of her trance. "Yes, I'm sorry I was just...you're really beautiful."

"Oh thank you, child." The woman cooed. "I don't get words like that often. Well not anymore for that matter." She blushed as she spoke. "But enough of myself, we need to get you cleaned up."

Emma froze at her words. "What do you mean? I thought we already did that."

The woman stared blankly. "You mean last night? Oh no, that was just medical business, dear, now it's time for beauty."

"Beauty?" Emma's eyes widened. "But I've never-"

"Come now," Lillian urged with a gentle grip, "I'll see you taken care of."

Emma rose slowly, dreading what the old woman had planned for her. Not a day in her life had Emma been pampered or dressed in feminine means. Make up, dresses, and perfume were all completely foreign and even distasteful to her. She saw how most girls in Boston used them to great extent, hiding their true appearance. She was one to prefer things naturally and even so she had been a boy nearly her whole life. None of those things applied to that matter. Save the brushing of her hair, grooming for accentuating beauty didn't exist in her line of life experiences.

As Lillian sat her down into a cushioned chair, Emma grabbed the old woman's hand. "Lillian-"

"I told you to call me Lily dear."

"Lily, please don't do this. I appreciate your care but I honestly don't want to be wearing any of this," She gestured to the bottles before them. "I never have and would like to keep it that way."

Emma saw the light from the old woman's face vanish. Her smile disappeared and her eyes glinted with disappointment. She then released a sigh. "Very well. But at least let me clean you up."

Emma eyed her suspiciously.

"There will be no makeup, no dresses just a quick polishing."

Emma was hesitant but she caved into the old woman's plea. "Fine."

Emma sat stiffly in her chair as Lily tended to her task. Her face was washed with a hot towel and it felt good over her bruises. Then she felt the old woman's hands pat a clear liquid over Emma's face and neck. She could detect a flowery smell arising from it, but it was light and even refreshing. Next her dark and wild tresses were being tamed by the mercy of a comb. It was one of the most painful experiences Emma had endured, but it also felt strangely relieving, maybe even relaxing. She had often wondered what it would have been like to have some motherly figure tend to activities such as this upon her. She watched her sister Madelyn do such things to their younger sister Grace, but Madelyn would dare not place such affection on her.

The woman started speaking as she combed. "Miss Maywood, are you and Master Kenway good friends?"

Emma strained her expression. "Who?"

"Master Kenway? Connor, the young man that brought you."

Emma nearly sneered aloud but caught herself. "Uh, no. We're just...actually I don't know what we are. I was attacked in Boston and he found me and brought me here because no doctor was available."

"Ah," the old woman replied. "Quite noble, I must say. But also strange considering his behavior lately."

Emma perked up in curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I think you might have grabbed his attention. I caught him this morning checking in on you." The woman replied gently. "Just before I walked in to prepare your fire, he was standing in your doorway." She laughed lightly at the memory. "I was certain there was some relation between you two."

Emma looked forward. "There isn't one, I assure you. I will admit that he is quite strange, though." She let out a chuckle. "He's not some culprit or pervert, right?"

Lily nearly dropped her comb at Emma's words. She immediately stopped her task, crouched in front of her, and looked straight into Emma's eyes. "No, Miss, he is anything but. I've known him since he was a boy and he has turned out to be the most humble, brave, and noble man." She gripped Emma's hands. "He cares deeply about people. Though I know he may not look like it or even show it, he lives to serve those around him."

Emma blinked at the woman's glowing review of him. She didn't mean for her presumptions to really be serious but she was surprised to hear such a high defense in his name.

"If there's an uncertainty between the two of you," Lily started again, "I encourage you to give him a chance. He's worth knowing."

Emma nodded before forcing a smile. It was good enough for the old woman to leave her position and continue combing Emma's hair again. As she did, Emma looked toward her door and contemplated Lily's words. A caring and humble man? All Emma had seen were angry demands and a ridiculous amount of smirking from him. Could he really be as this woman said? Most certainly not after what she had thought earlier about him and Swayde's smuggling empire. If his motives truly revolved around finding the hoards, he was being smart, tactful even. He brought her to his home and had her taken care of; she was perfectly set in his reach.

And now he was watching her. Lily said he lingered at her doorway this morning. How often did he do that? If he did it once, he'll do it again. She was merely in his clutches, simply waiting to be devoured and she literally couldn't get away. Her legs wouldn't carry a full sprint now, her walk was pathetic enough.

In fact, there were only so many things she could do physically. Her mobility was extremely limited and her knowledge of this vast place even so. She knew she wouldn't stand much of a chance against him in a weapons' battle or if she tried to convince him to let her go home. At this point, the odds looked great in his favor. He had all of the advantages and now it seemed like all there was left to do was to strike.

However, little did Connor know that Emma had a thing for puzzles and games. This certainly had to be one or the other, and she could learn how to play. If she did, maybe there was a chance for her to defy the odds and beat out this strange experience.

Her mind explored the possibilities of how she could get through this, mentally glancing over strategies and tools she could use. Again, she was limited to a near minimum and given her condition and location, her options would be few. For a quite a few moments as she sat in that chair, she thought long and hard of what she could do. It was rather despairing, as she struggled with finding a decent option.

This was a mind game, or at least she had to make it so. Her physical defenses had been forfeited and now she had to use her mind. To outsmart him would be best but she didn't fully know his intentions or his plan for her. She had a pretty good idea of what he had in mind but she needed to investigate a little more; study his movements. Finally the idea came to her head. She would watch him too.

Connor took a deep breath as he walked out of the manor that morning. Before he stepped off the porch, he decided something. His concern for Emma was surely strong and growing nonetheless, and he knew that it was all wrong. He knew better than to let his emotions get so out of control and his sight so out of focus and he needed to bring it all back together. He was an Assassin; a man disciplined by countless hours of learning the very foundations of balance and control. He had been physically and mentally pushed beyond all boundaries and came forth through to the other side; surely he could overcome this task.

This task. Was it so mere to regard it so? This woman tugged him from a strange angle, deepening his misunderstanding towards the human heart. How could so many emotions be led so astray? He had immense focus. Although, in his training, he had been warned that the things of the world would try to lure him away and he was experiencing it now. But he was also told that he didn't have to give in to the temptation, and could win victory.

And he would win victory. He promised that to himself. So many more important things were at stake in this land and in his life. He couldn't just give all of his training, his suffering, and rising ambition for some injured girl. She was ruining it all, distracting him from his purpose.

He exhaled. He saved her from further pain or humiliation in Boston, brought her here to be cared for, made sure that happened, and now she was safe in Lillian's care. There wasn't any more reason to care about her, right? His mission with her was completed, for the most part. Until she had to return of course or if she turned out to be some asset to the enemy.

His mind halted on that last thought. What if she really was an enemy? Achilles was wise to presume such things because of her association with Peace. She was practically in the headquarters of the Colonial Assassins and if she was found to be of the Templars, then she would have to casted out or terminated. If the possibility was there, then perhaps he should act more like Achilles and hold her with more suspicion. He should have been behaving like so towards her anyway considering how much he didn't know about her. That was the standard for most strangers, civilian or not. It was about time he would treat her as such, and lessen his care for her. That would be the right thing to do.

With those convictions in mind, he worked through the day.

It would turn out to be a rough day for Davenport residents, and a busy one for Connor. He took up the goal of aiding his neighbors in the wake of the great storm that overcame them all and achieved it to the fullest. He went to nearly every house in the valley, aiding families with whatever they asked him to. Whether it was herding animals, lifting barnyard equipment, fixing house damages, or stocking up supply, he was there to ensure security.

He hoped that doing these things would distract him from Emma. To his pleasure, they did, and he realized that he could continue to think of her less. He had to, as the possibility of her being a threat arose and he had to treat her like so. His life could be as it was before she came and he could still strive towards his missions with focus. He would not let her get in the way from now on.

Having done these tasks all day long with full heart and mind, Connor was tired by dusk. He hadn't stopped all day to rest or to eat. The thought of home was alluring as it promised food and a bed but he couldn't return home yet. There was one last thing to do.

He was at the home of Terry, a Scottish lumberjack who had wife named Diana. They were friends to Connor, though Terry's temper was sometimes aggravating. The real bond rested with the couple's son Kale. The young boy with the significant birthmark on his face had a keen interest in Connor and was eager for any chance to be around him. The Native had taught him some basic defensive skills, Mohawk childhood games, and plenty of moral advice. He was looked up to as a big brother and loved nonetheless.

On this day, Connor was helping Terry move large wood planks into a storage shed. Many of them were snowed on, so the men had to spend a lot of time digging them out before lugging them out of climate's reach. Kale stuck around them, not being too much of a help. He was instructed by his father to help dig but the boy preferred making snow structures instead.

After about a half hour, the arduous task was complete. Terry and Connor were hot from the labor despite the blistering cold and also exhausted. They stood back and examined their work in the shed

"This is good, Connor," Terry said with a thick accent. "Thanks for your help again. I would've called Godfrey over but he and I are in a bit of a spout as of now." He slapped Connor's arm. "Why don't you come in for a drink and dinner? We can spare an extra plate."

Connor looked to Terry."I appreciate the offer but I need to be getting home, as it is getting late."

"Of course," the Scotsman complied. "Get outta here and get some rest. Go home to that old man you live with." His expression turned serious and he folded his arms. "You need to find a girl, lad. And kick that old man out."

Connor shifted his stance."I'm afraid that is not my greatest priority at the moment. Maybe someday though."

A sour expression came from Terry."Pfft. Not your priority-that is every man's priority! Get a move on it before it's too late." He looked around before whispering, "There's some good ones around here, you know."

Kale stood between them. "What about that sick girl at your house?"

Connor watched Terry's face beam in shock. "There's one in your home and you haven't hooked her? What's the matter with you, lad?"

The native eyed Kale before calmly explaining to Terry. "She is not a friend or anything more. She is just a guest seeking refuge at the Manor until Dr. White comes back."

Terry looked out at the wintery scene around him and let out a laugh. "Don't count on your hopes, lad. This storm ain't going anywhere and we probably won't be seeing Lyle for a loooong time. No one's going to be able to cross the mountain pass for weeks."

Connor gazed at the white world around him. He figured that he could somehow manage through the extreme weather but perhaps Terry was right. Conditions had grown severe. Would his mission be post-poned once more? Emma wouldn't be able to leave either.

Terry placed a hand on Connor's shoulder. "Count this as a blessing. Now you're stuck with a woman living in your home." He smiled smugly as he left the shed. "Best of luck to you."

Connor watched as Kale and Terry went into their home. He didn't realize how much greater of a problem the snow had made Emma and to himself. It would keep him busy and distracted from her as he would have to do neighborly tasks every day, but it would also keep the both of them here. He couldn't begin his next mission in Boston and she certainly couldn't travel that way either. Terry was right; he was stuck here with that girl.

So much for controlling emotions.

The winter chill thawed off of Connor's body as he entered the Manor. The presence of home was relieving to him, as he was exhausted and burned from the wind.. The heat felt nice against his wet robe and boots, which helped carry in a trail of snow. He stopped momentarily to shake all of the excess off of him and found more than he thought as a great amount littered on the floor around him. Hopefully Achilles wouldn't mind.

Soon he started to go up the stairs. He wondered how Emma was doing, but quickly shot the thought down. He had to remind himself that he wouldn't let himself care. She was fine and it didn't really matter. She could be the enemy. She could be the enemy. She could be the enemy.

"Connor? Is that you walking in?"

Connor stopped his trek upwards at the sound of the raspy voice. He let out a sigh and turned around. He followed to where the voice came from, which was in the dining room. Upon sight, he found the old man sitting in one of the two end captain's chairs of the great dining table, before the front windows and a
displayed stuffed eagle. Connor's steps were heavy with moisture as he walked to Achilles, squelching upon the floorboards. When he stopped in front of him, his robes dripped moisture onto the floor.

The old man eyed the growing pool around his apprentices' feet. "My floors.."

"What do you need, old man?" Connor asked rather impatiently.

Achilles pondered over the puddle on his floor momentarily before looking up at the native. "I have something I want to tell you. It's about your lady friend."

Connor stiffened. "What is it?"

"She came to see me today."

Connor gave a quizzical look. "She came down? What did she say?"

"Well, for one, she introduced herself." The old man looked down as he shifted in his seat. "And then she thanked me for letting her stay."

"Thanked you?" Connor asked incredulously. "I did not think she knew the word existed."

"She has not done the same for you?" Achilles asked.

"Not once," Connor said annoyed. "She has not even acknowledged that I saved her life."

The old man let out a raspy laugh. "Do you always expect to get praised for your good deeds? You're in for a surprise." He leaned back in his chair and exhaled deeply. "I got her name."

Connor furrowed in irritation. "I already knew her name."

"No boy," Achilles corrected. "You're missing the point. The fact is that she gave me her name, her full name."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Most imposters don't willingly go to full lengths to make their name known, as this girl did." Achilles remarked. "She came down those stairs, shook my hand, gave me her name, and thanked me for my generosity. Limps and all."

Connor was taken aback by such courtesy. It was rather astonishing to hear that she had gone down the stairs alone, considering her physical condition, but to simply meet the old man? Didn't sound like the girl he knew. He pulled up a chair next to his grinning mentor, who beamed at the treatment Emma gave him.

"What are you suggesting then, old man?"

"Nothing. " He said freely. "I still have my doubts towards her but I was simply noting of her consideration towards her hosts."

Connor sighed and shook his head in disagreement before rising from his chair. He didn't understand her strange behavior.

"If there's one thing worth mentioning," Achilles started again. "It's that she doesn't take a liking to you."

A glare was cast to the old man. "She made that clear to me a long time ago."

"I mentioned your name and she grew quite tense," he recalled. "So I invited her to dinner."

The native froze in his stance and looked at Achilles in the eyes. "You..what?"

"I invited her to dinner," the old man replied brightly. "with you and me. Our plan was to talk to her somehow, right? Besides, I saw how she reacted to your name and then I remembered how you reacted towards her in our first conversation and so I thought it would make a great opportunity."

"For what?" the apprentice scanned Achilles' eyes.

"I am very curious to see how she would react around the both of us. It will make her uncomfortable. Then maybe we'll see what she's really like."

Connor folded his arms across his chest and pondered the old man's plan. He knew for a fact that he didn't need to attend a dinner to figure out who she really was. She was one with her own will; stubborn and independent as the storm outside. She was dark, persistent and strange in the path she brewed before her wrath.

That was the side he wanted to believe in. More and more it began to be, as his newfound attitude towards her came into manifestation. Even beforehand, he knew she wasn't merely a courteous but helpless woman. She wasn't some pitiful creature for him to mope for. She was a person that was obstinate in her ways and liked to fight. And was possibly an enemy, no most likely, an enemy.

"When is this supposed to happen?"

"Whenever she feels better." Achilles replied. "I'm expecting her to be ready before the end of the week. You are still keeping your distance, correct?"

Connor started to leave again before releasing a sigh. "I am making sure of it."

He ascended the stairs swiftly, eager to change into fresh clothes and even lay down to rest. The stairs creaked beneath him and the landing protested even louder as he walked upon it. His strides were wide as he walked towards his room.

Suddenly, he stopped. He heard voices, coming from the room across from his. Immediately he felt his insides tug towards the curiosity once again, creating an urge to have him walk over to Emma's door.

He closed his eyes. "Stop." He mentally told himself. She was ungrateful and brash, someone he wasn't supposed to even care about. She didn't need to be a concern for him any longer. His care for her had to be shunned, she was the enemy remember? Why couldn't he label her as that let the situation be?

Because he caused her pain. His eyes opened sorrowfully at the realization. Her suffering came to be by his persistence towards her before and after their encounter with Peace in Boston. He chased her into that attack and then fought with her many times on the way to the Homestead.

His conscience was neglected. At the thought of his role in her injuries he put away his Assassin rationality and gave in to his concern. He walked slowly towards the door. There he stood and listened, observing that the voices had ceased. Perhaps they heard him. At least she was still there, receiving care. He knew that the reason he cared was because he was at fault with her. He was responsible for her and it would be difficult to just let her go as a suspected threat. This misdeed he had done needed to be redeemed and that would come forth through her healing.

However, he couldn't think like that. He needed to compromise his care for her for the sake of his caution. She could be a threat, as Achilles said, and all suspicion needed to be held against her in case something dangerous would happen because of her. One emotion, and certainly not one girl was worth such a risk. He collected his emotions and returned to his convictions. With that, he sighed and walked away.

Emma marveled at the landscape in the library she stayed in. It was a culturally rich room, with many paintings of great galleys at sea and various flags and maps that hung on the walls. After Lily had left to tend to other duties, Emma took it upon herself to observe every object in the room. Her sense of discovery and curiosity was born on the day she became a shipman to Captain Swayde. The wonder of the ship itself drew her into a life long interest in navigation and destination and this room was filled with those kinds of things.

With some pain in every limp, she moved around the room slowly, gazing deeply into every object in sight. She stared long at the moody colored paintings upon their elaborate frames, read every word that inked the maps of old, and even stuck her nose in some books pertaining to maritime history. She found herself lost in this academic aspect of her trade. This place was full of knowledge and art of the world she knew best, and she wanted to stay there forever.

It would be hours before Lily returned. And when she did, she found Emma pondering over a large antique globe, grazing her fingers across the smooth round surface.

"Miss Maywood?" Lily inquired. "I'm surprised to see you up and about."

Emma awakened from her trance. "I was just looking around the room. The pieces in here are incredible."

"Yes, this room has always been quite amusing," the old woman complied. "Master Davenport is a collecting kind of man. I believe Connor has taken it up as well."

Emma glanced back to the globe. "Any more surprises?"

The two women lingered quietly for the next ten minutes or so. Emma was still entranced into the globe by the fireplace and Lily decided to dust off the book shelves. They were both deeply concentrated on their tasks until they both heard heavy and swift footsteps come up the stairs. A chill went through Emma's spine as she figured who it was.

Though her body bent over the globe, she lay still and anticipated his approach. She looked to Lily who had also halted her task and watched the door. The two women were convinced that Connor would enter or at least peer through as Lily observed.

They waited as they heard the footsteps move slowly towards the door. Emma expected their continuous motion to carry onto the entrance of her room but she found that they didn't. His footsteps stopped in front of the door and remained there. Emma eyed the door curiously before turning to Lily, who only motioned with her hands for Emma to say something. Emma shook her head violently and continued to watch. She wanted to see what would happen.

Then after several moments, the footsteps moved from their spot and started to fade away. Emma was rather relieved at the motion as she didn't want to interact with him. As she exhaled, Lily's fixed expression caught her eye. She was smiling brightly at Emma, almost looking like she could squeal.

"What?" Emma asked of her.

"You see?" The maid teased. "He came just like that this morning. Listening for you."

Emma gave the door a narrowed expression. "Why?"

"He might be interested, dear." Lily stated as a matter of fact. "I told you he cares for the people around him. You should let him in next time."

Emma shot a look to her. "No way. I don't like him doing this, it's strange. And I don't like him either. "

The old woman scoffed in annoyance. "You are too young to be this bitter, Miss Maywood. Why do you resent him so?"

Emma sighed and returned her gaze to the globe. She had plenty of reasons why she disliked him but she dare not list them off to an old woman who helped raise him. Words struggled to form out of her mouth. "I guess….he is…I'm not…." She took a deep breath. "We just don't get along." She caressed the globe again. "We never have and I don't plan on changing that. I keep my distance and he keeps his.

After a few moments of silence, Emma sensed sadness upon Lily's face. It made Emma feel guilty for her words but she didn't know what else to say. This was the truth of how she felt, no matter who he was to these people. It was also the truth behind her stay, in that it would short, impersonal, and hopefully approaching its end in the near future.

She looked at the old woman. Her face was dimmed by a darker emotion but she was suddenly busy with a new task. Emma watched as she began to gather up stray cups and dish towels around the room. Lily kept her eyes down as she did so, purposely avoiding contact with Emma. She began to speak.

"I am disappointed in hearing you speak of him in this way, Miss Maywood. However, I have no choice but to accept your feelings. Perhaps another time will come for when you may think differently." She stopped her task and walked over to a small chest and pulled out some string and needles. "Shall we start sewing? I want to hem those clothes to fit you."

Emma nodded and walked over to the old woman. She was sat down upon a cushioned chair and her hair was placed over one shoulder. Lily's wrinkled hands began to work on Emma's loose cotton shirt, setting placement needles in spots where she wanted to create a stitch.

After several quiet moments, Emma began to drift into her thoughts again. She thought about Connor and his "game" she had to play. By now she was convinced he was after something from her, most likely it being information towards the hoards. He brought her here and now he was watching her closely. She began to feel rather nervous at the thought. If he were to interrogate her or try to make her reveal details about the maps, smuggling, or hoards, she wouldn't know a thing. On the very day Connor took her away from the scene in Boston, she was merely informed of her father's and Captain Swayde's secret. They hadn't told her where any particular hoards were or how the exact process of smuggling worked. She knew how to take inventory, man a ship, and sell to some clients. But she didn't know any of the dirty details or precious particulars. If she knew anything, it's that she had to keep that whole world a secret. Merchants were often suspected and arrested for smuggling. She didn't need a single stranger to know, let alone this mercenary-like man that practically kidnapped her.

She exhaled and looked towards her door. Whatever Connor had planned for her, she knew she had to be ready, or at least precautious. She needed to hold her guard more than ever and protect herself from the things that would befall her. A close watch needed to be held towards him so she could see his motives. In fact, this secret was so precious and her world and life even so that she decided that any measure should be taken up to defend it all. Whether it would be to fight with words, swing a punch, or hide behind lies, she made up her mind to do whatever it took to safeguard her mysteries.

Replies To Reviews: To All: Thank you everyone for commenting on my story! All of the reviews make me feel so elated and encourage me to write better and more for you guys. A compliment can a long way so I please know that I take each and every one full heartedly. Thank you for your support guys, it's amazing to experience that :)

Guest: I don't know how else to recognize you haha! You posted on Dec. 16 for ch. 9..and you gave a great review :) I'm extremely flattered that you check for updates so often! And I'm glad that you love the story! I appreciate your tidbit of advice and I couldn't agree more with you. The longer a romance is stretched, the better the overall story is so that is my intent ^^ Thanks for the advice and your support.

PSAfrikaans: I have to say that its really cool to receive a review in a different language! I assume that you live from afar! I had to look up your words through google translate but I did and thank you! :) I'm really glad that you enjoy the story and are eager for the next chapter. I'm trying to post them sooner but then I keep revising it so time lingers on. Thank you for your patience! :)

beafstew: Thank you for saying what you liked! I was really nervous about incorporating that scene with Achilles meeting Emma in this chapter because I didn't know if it would fit well quite yet. But I'm glad you liked it!I really appreciate everything you have said to me, and I want to say that I'm absolutely not expecting you to review all of the time, if not anymore. Your support is amazing as well as the compliments you have given. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story!

South-Africa 101/ Celeste: South Africa?! That's amazing! Greetings from the USA :) Thank you for your compliments! They make me feel confident towards my writing as they tell me what is strong in my writing. Sometimes those kind of comments are better than criticisms because it tells me what I can keep in my style and what you really like. And I will keep writing :). Thank you for support and I hope that the story will continue to be as enjoyable as you say.

Eager Reader: Hahaha I loved your comment on your reaction to my update. I'm sorry that I kept you in the suspense for so long but I'm glad that you are indeed eager. I appreciate you saying that you like my work and that you're excited to read more. I only hope that I can continue to do that for you :)

ACGamer: Thank you! :) I really appreciate your support too, considering you've been around since the very beginning. It's encouraging to see that you're still reading!