The North Sea
1763
Stephen Bonnet leaned back against the railing and watched her as she went by, oblivious to his presence. They had been out to see for two days, and she hadn't even given him another glance. She kept to herself, not very sociable to the other passengers. Yet the male passengers, and the crew, all took notice of her.
There was something about her. She was a cute little thing, short and a good average size and build. She wasn't skin and bones, but she had some nice padding in all the right places. Her breasts were large enough that they'd fit perfectly into his palms. And would you look at that arse…
Vanessa was standing by the rail, looking out at the ocean. She was perhaps fifteen feet away from him, but she didn't pay him any mind. She stared at the ocean with such a longing to be elsewhere, that it daunted him. There was just something about her.
He watched her sandy blonde hair, curled and slightly tangled with lack of being combed, catch with the breeze. She looked slightly exotic, yet she was fairly plain; pretty, but not the exquisite beauty that normally would turn a head. And still, she didn't belong here. Not on his ship, not in this region, perhaps not even in this time -- but that is ridiculous.
He could have her easily. All he would have to do fetch her himself, and she would be his. So why didn't he?
The night they took sail he had slept easily, as always. Then the following day, he began to take notice of her; but she didn't even glance his way once. And so it began to mess with him. It tugged at his mind from time to time, why won't the girl at least look at him? He hadn't slept at all last night.
He knew he was attractive, his size caused women to look. His eyes and charm usually got a bit more, and the most she had given to him was a wisecrack insolent remark. Usually, he would have backhanded the woman. Yet, for some reason she had this air around her that made it seem dangerous, almost, to lay a hand on her.
Now that's stupid. Stephen Bonnet was danger. Well he is to know it, and it would be just as well she did too. Maybe that was it; she senses the danger and has shied away from it. Advancing on her could scare her more and make her skittish, or it could bring out a wildcat.
Bonnet shifted his stance to accommodate for the extra weight that had accumliated in the front of his breeks. What the hell was he going to do about her? Well, he knew what he should do. It might possibly stop these thoughts about her if he just bedded the wench.
He was getting increasingly uncomfortable, the blood was leaving his head and collecting elsewhere. It is not like he has never just grabbed a woman and took her to his cabin to eliminate this very problem, so whywas he still standing here?
Look at me, darlin'. He willed her with his mind. Just turn your head to the right and look a me, damn you. But she continued to stare at the ocean.
Irritated Bonnet finally could not take it any longer and was just taking his first step towards her when she turned to the left and walked off. He froze. What in the hell! He stared holes into her back as she walked off and into the cargo hold the passengers were using as a cabin.
The crew members who were walking towards him at that moment, turned tail and made off the other way upon hearing the bear-like growl of frustration that he made.
As he was about to go into the cargo hold after the blasted woman and take her anyway, a shout bellowed "Man Overboard!"
Cursing, Bonnet went to see what the hell was happening on his retched ship.