Moonlight on the Caribbean

Chapter Seventeen

Dawn had not yet broken when Mimi felt herself being shaken awake.  She came back to consciousness slowly, having only nodded off a few hours before.  Unwilling to leave Jason on what would likely be their last night together, she had settled herself beside him on deck, to keep watch with him throughout the night.  She had not counted on the lulling power of the boat's gentle rocking, the comfortable coolness of the sea breeze on her face, the hypnotizing motion of Jason's hand as he stroked her shoulder.  She had fallen asleep before she was even aware of being tired.

"Wake up, Mimi.  It's time."

Green eyes blinked open slowly to be confronted by equally emerald orbs staring directly into them.  It took only a moment for sanity to come rushing back to Mimi…and only seconds longer for fear to grip her.  "They're here?" she asked in a whisper.

Jason shook his head.  "Not yet, but they will be within the hour."  He pointed to a small blur on the horizon.  The iron set of his jaw showed he was taking this more seriously than the controlled tone of his voice would have betrayed to her.

Mimi's stomach clenched with dread.  "That's it then."  Her words choked her.  She couldn't stare at the indistinguishable ship any more.  Pulling her eyes away, she locked onto the sight of Jason's profile.  Tenderly, she traced every line of his face in her mind.  She implanted him so firmly in her consciousness not even eternity could remove him.

Eventually, Jason seemed to sense her perusal for he turned to her, his eyes more openly raw than she had ever seen them, even when he told her about his past.  He too seemed determined to memorize every inch of her face.  Then abruptly jerking away from her, he cleared his throat.  "You should awaken Lady Black and Lady Wesley.  You should all be ready to meet the ship when it gets here."

"Jason!" 

His name was a cry of reproach and regret that he could not ignore.  He looked at Mimi once more.  "It will only make it harder if you stay with me," he answered her silent plea.

"I never asked for it to be easy," Mimi returned defiantly.  "All I ask for is you; all I want is every last moment we can share."  The rising tears checked the rest of her words.  They were made superfluous by the fervor with which she pressed her lips to his.  Jason's arms wrapped around her and held her tight.

By the time he let her go, the H.M.S. Miranda was bearing down upon them.

~~*~~

Chloe ached.  Her body cried out against its rough treatment the night before, and though she would never regret being with Brady when he needed her, not all her love for him could reason away this pain.  She wondered how something so very wrong could still feel so very right.  A blush suffused her cheeks as she recalled what they had done together.  She knew she would never be able to speak of it as long as she lived.

It was odd, she reflected philosophically, that he was the same man who had been so tender and loving with her by the waterfall.  Last night, there had been in him only a passion so dark it frightened her…at the same time it aroused her.  But then, Chloe understood the difference.  Yesterday, by the pool, he had removed his mask.  For only the second time, he had stood before her as Brady Black, the man he was meant to be.  Then, he had returned to his ship, only to find the father he had so long sought lay dead, murdered in cold blood.  He had found refuge in the mask.  He had become the ruthless Captain Blackheart yet again.  He had become what the world had made him.

Strange, how both men—the one he should be and the one he was—cared for her so deeply in their different ways.

Lady Wesley was allowed no more time for musing over the conflicting personalities of her lover.  As she slowly blinked awake, more of the events of the past few days crowded in on her.  Today was the day Brady had said the Navy would catch up with them, and there was no longer Lord Black to protect them.  The suddenness of his death had pushed all such thoughts out of Chloe's head yesterday, in the face of her concern for Brady and Belle.  But this morning, she was terrifyingly practical.

Chloe sat up too quickly and winced.  In addition to the rigorous activities of the previous night, she had fallen asleep on the wooden floor of the store room.  Her back felt stiff.  Her muscles were achingly tender and bruised.  She was unsurprised to find herself alone.  Light was shining in through the porthole.  The early morning sun was nearly blinding.  Brady would most likely have been awake for hours…if he had stayed with her at all.  Thinking back, she was unsure whether he had or not.

For a moment, all the religious prudery in which Chloe had been raised rushed back on her to shock and shame.  She realized only now what she had done, as it would appear in the disdainful eyes of society.  She was a fallen woman, a pirate's wench.  Worse yet, she had no claim upon Brady.  He had not even told her he loved her, she thought, her heart filling with even more sorrow at that thought. 

Perhaps it was for the best that she had no time to give into these recollections, as they were only preying more heavily on her already shattered nerves.  But, though given to introspection when she had time to be at leisure, Chloe knew how to act when the occasion demanded swift response.  She shoved every idle thought to the back of her mind and focused only the necessary actions for her day.

Obviously, the first thing she had to do was return to her cabin and choose a suitable dress for the day.  The native garment, however freeing it had been, would have to be discarded in favor of the traditional garb of an English lady of fashion.  She thought of the layers of petticoats, chemises, and corset with the horror of stifling her spirit once again.  But it was what had to be done.  She could only pray that Belle would still be sleeping when she returned to the cabin.

Even small favors would not be granted to her that day, it seemed.  No sooner had she tiptoed into the cabin and shut the door soundlessly behind her than she heard Belle's voice, coolly asking, "And where have you been all night?"

Chloe jumped about to face her friend, turning scarlet, then pale, then red again in a matter of seconds.  "Belle, I can explain."

Lady Black rose regally from her chair.  She was already dressed in the white silk gown she had been wearing the day they were abducted.  It still bore the stains from that day, but otherwise, Belle looked every inch the porcelain doll figure she had always been.  Her hair was swept back in a charming chignon.  Her blue eyes were alert, if red-rimmed from crying and a rather sleepless night.  Her sunburn had gradually turned into a light tan, and the color in some degree made up for the weight she had lost during her illness.  She carried her grief like the true lady she was, with the sedate dignity that had always astonished her friend. 

"There is no need," Belle stopped her before she could formulate an excuse.  She pressed a soft hand to Chloe's shoulder and squeezed gently.  "We will talk no more of what has happened on this ship, Chloe.  It's over and done with, all of it."  Her grasp tightened momentarily, and Chloe could feel her tremble, but she continued steadily, "I heard some passing sailors say the Miranda would be here soon.  We shall go up and meet her and put all that has happened behind us."

"Belle..." Chloe pleaded in a soft voice, as she took the trembling hand in both of hers.  "I admire your courage, but your father—"

"My father," Belle interjected abruptly, "is dead.  Not all the tears or wishes in the world will bring him back.  If you are truly my friend, Chloe, you will speak of him no more."

Under such an obligation, Chloe had no choice but to obey.  She searched desperately for another subject on which to speak.  "You must be pleased to see Commodore Brady again."

"Of course."  It was a testament to the true sorrow Belle was feeling that she could not muster up even a smile for her fiancé.  She merely rubbed the ruby ring on her finger desperately, like it was all she had left to depend on in the world.

A new terror seized Chloe as she observed this action.  For the first time in weeks, her mind reverted of its own will to her own betrothed, Philip Kiriakis.  She paled.  She had forgotten she was to be married to a near stranger upon her arrival in Jamaica.  But like all the other unpleasant thoughts of the morning, she pushed it out of her head.  One thing at a time, she instructed herself silently.

The reminder was a needed one.  It brought Chloe's mind back to her present task.  Following Belle's lead, she brought out the dress she had been wearing the day Blackheart took the Dolphin.  The rich blue velvet seemed far from appealing to her now, but she summoned Jan to her from the other cabin and completed her toilette as fast as possible.  Belle, meanwhile, headed to the deck.

Twenty minutes later, laced in so tightly she could barely breathe, her hair swept up in one of the complicated, regal styles of the day, Lady Chloe Wesley gazed at her reflection in the mirror.  It astonished her that her blue eyes, so bright and carefree only the day before, should seem once again numb and haughty.  Surely a change in attire alone could not be responsible for this reversion to her former self.

"My lady?"

Chloe was darted out of her reverie by Jan's supplication.  "What is it?"

The even colder dark eyes of her maid stared back at her, as she made the traditional speech of begging pardon.  "I assumed you would want to wear this again today."  In her hand, she proffered the ostentatious diamond ring that marked Chloe as Philip's bride to be.

The iron that settled in the pit of Chloe's stomach was the final reclamation of who she used to be.  She had shed that piece of jewelry when she had shed this dress, leaving it in her maid's keeping.  She looked at it now as the chains binding her to a life of misery.  Overcoming her aversion, she grabbed the ring from Jan, wrapping it so tightly in her fist it cut her skin.  Flinching, she placed it on her ring finger, left hand. 

"Satisfied?" she remarked to Jan, noticing the other woman watched all her actions.

Jan met her gaze, and Chloe was astonished by the triumphant malice in what would otherwise have been a pretty face.  Perhaps Mimi was right in her suspicions.  "Perfectly so, Your Ladyship."

Chloe could handle no more of this private conference.  Her lungs burned for the sea air again, while her anxiety over the Navy's impending arrival increased by the moment.  Gesturing for Jan to follow, she made her way to the deck.

Though prepared to expect the arrival of the Miranda, Chloe was nearly overwhelmed to see the proximity of the two ships.  The large, sturdy naval vessel towered over the sleek, fast pirate ship.  Only an hundred yards still separated the ships.  Chloe was frantic now as she searched the crowded deck for Brady.  The entire crew waited for the boarding, and while some of them cursed and some muttered under their breaths, not one reached for a weapon.  Their captain had told them there would be no fight, and they would obey.

But the common sailors could have no interest for Chloe at this moment.  She spotted Belle nearly hanging over the ship's rail in her eagerness to get a glimpse of Shawn.  Not far from her, Jason and Mimi stood close together, not speaking, not looking at each other, but hands clasped so tightly Chloe wondered how their fingers could survive it.  Her stomach clenched at the sight.  They were in the same situation she and Brady were.

Brady.  Chloe spotted him then, apart from the others, waiting to welcome his doom.  As if sensing her earnest gaze, he pivoted towards her.  His eyes chilled her even from this distance as he mocked a low bow before her and turned abruptly away.  The ill feeling in her gut increased, and for a moment, she felt her knees start to weaken.  All her forgotten pride rallied to support her as she twisted from Brady's sudden and dispiriting coldness to stand next to Belle and wait for Shawn's arrival.  Though, she imagined, with highly different feelings.

~~*~~

Commodore Shawn Douglas Brady had risen far before the sun in order to have the earliest sighting of the Vengeance.  It was absolutely impossible to explain Blackheart's behavior since the day he had taken the Dolphin.  Contradictory, irrational actions at every turn.  The one thing Shawn had never considered his pirate friend was stupid, but nothing short of madness could explain the course that had led them to this.

Minutes after daybreak, Shawn's sailors had shouted out their first sight of the quarry.  Shawn had raised his telescope for a better look and been struck dumb by what he saw.  The Vengeance was anchored in an island bay, patiently waiting the arrival of the British Royal Navy.  Even more shocking, they were flying the white flag of surrender.

"It must be a trap, Sir."  Rex Evans voiced the opinion of the entire crew.

"I think not, Lieutenant," Shawn contradicted him.  He lowered the eyeglass, still letting his gaze linger on the ever approaching ship.  "Let's sail on to meet her."

The jaw of his second in command nearly hit the deck before he recovered enough for speech.  "But, Sir—"

"Man the guns if you will, Evans," Shawn ordered coolly.  "But mark my words; there will be no need for them.  No one is to fire unless or until I give the order."

Rex straightened to attention, seeming to know he had pushed his captain as far as he dared.  "Aye, aye, Sir."  With a click of his heels, the lieutenant turned away and began barking orders at the crew.

Shawn could do nothing but watch as the Vengeance inched nearer every moment.  He raised the glass to his eye again and began searching the deck.  He soon found what he was looking for.  There, standing by the railing, a vision of loveliness and purity in white, was his own, his beloved.  "Belle…"

The name slipped from him like a caress, and his eyes devoured her hungrily.  He wouldn't feel right again until he had taken her into his arms.  He hated that he would have to restrain himself until his duties were finished.  His uniform had never felt so choking.  He would have to do many things he found unpleasant today. 

Finally managing to tear his eyes away from Belle, Shawn surveyed the rest of the crowd.  It seemed the entire crew was gathered to meet them.  A masked man stood apart from the rest, towards the helm of the ship; his eyes were settled resolutely on the Miranda.  It took Shawn a few moments to place him as Blackheart himself.  He put thoughts of the strange pirate out of his head for the moment while he looked for the remaining captives.  Lady Wesley stood close to Belle, with the woman he could only presume was her maid waiting right behind her.  To their right, Mimi leaned on the rail, her face unusually solemn; Jason Masters, Brady's first mate, stood beside her.

It was then Shawn first realized who was missing in the scene.  More eagerly now, he ran the telescope along the deck.  They were almost close enough he had no need of it, but he scrutinized every single face in view.  "Lord Black's not there," he muttered, with increasing worry.  He tried to console himself that the Viscount might be held on the island or below decks as a bargaining chip, but something kept him from believing it.  Perhaps it was the look of despair on Belle's face or the sad way in which Lady Wesley seemed to view their coming.

Shawn turned to face his own crew.  "Lower the boats!" he commanded.

While his crew looked at him askance, they didn't hesitate to follow his orders.  The Royal Navy saved its worst punishments for sailors who disobeyed orders.  Shawn and half his men were in two longboats sailing towards the Vengeance within minutes.  Rex stayed behind to soothe his fears by loading the cannons Commodore Brady would not let him fire.

Shawn's expectations, however, were not deceived.  Upon their approach, rope ladders were thrown down to the naval men.  Shawn led his fearful crew aboard where they were met with respectful silence and not a weapon in sight. 

"Shawn!"  His name, cried from blessed lips, was the first sound that greeted his ears, as Belle rushed towards him. 

Shawn was quite prepared to spread his arms and allow her to fly into them, his position be damned, when another voice from the opposite end of the ship held him steady.

"Commodore Brady, before your loving reunion with Lady Black, might I beg the privilege of a word with you?"

As always, Shawn was taken aback by Blackheart's commanding presence.  It seemed Belle was, as well; she stopped mere feet from where he stood and glanced over at the pirate, her brows creasing in concern.  A few of Shawn's officers put their hands to their swords upon this request, and their actions were mirrored by pirates standing across from them. 

Shawn held up his hand to steady them all.  "I believe there are things the Captain and I must discuss," he replied, loud enough for everyone on deck to hear.  "Stand down for a few minutes."

With some murmuring, the men relaxed their attention, though they continued to gaze on each other with suspicion.  The crowd opened for Shawn to pass through to the helm, where only Brady awaited him.  He had devised dozens of things to say to his old friend upon their first meeting, but when he came face to…well, mask, all of them flew from his head, and he spit out the first thing that came to his mind.  "What the hell were you thinking, man?" he hissed, though he remembered to keep his voice low enough to be inaudible to any listeners.

"I'm not sure I was exactly," Brady returned, unfazed.  He looked as though he had anticipated that reaction.  And well he might.  "But I have every intention of explaining my actions to you, provided you comply with three requests."

"With all due respect, my friend, you're not in a position to be making requests," Shawn gritted out.  "Nor am I in any humor to give them."

"I understand what you must be feeling, Shawn.  I betrayed your trust, and I'm deeply sorry for it.  If I had known how all this would end…I would never have done it.  You have to believe that."

"I readily can, since the end of it all is that I'm going to be forced to hang you.  You do realize that, don't you, Brady?  Nothing I can do would save you now.  You've been too public.  You attacked an English ship, for God's sake!  What the devil possessed you to do such a thing?"

"I've told you, I'll explain it all.  Just be patient.  But at least listen to my proposal."

Shawn hesitated a moment.  He felt Brady was taking advantage of their old friendship—a friendship he himself had shattered—and he was disinclined to acquiesce to his request [hehe, sorry, PotC joke, it slipped in there no matter how hard I tried to stop it].  On the other hand, what could it hurt to just listen?  "Very well," he returned coolly.  "But I make no promises."

Brady seemed to expect that.  "I ask for none, although I doubt you will find them so difficult to honor once you have heard them.  First, I would ask that my explanations might be deferred until we can speak in private.  Secondly, that while in public, you refrain from using my Christian name.  And thirdly, that whatever I tell you will pass no further than yourself…at least all that is of a personal nature.  I ask this not for my sake, but for the sake of one you claim to love."  As he ended this speech, the pirate looked beyond Shawn to Belle, who was watching them, though too far removed to hear their conversation.

"What?  What has Lady Black to do with all this?"  Shawn furrowed his brow in confusion.  "I don't understand, Blackheart.  What game are you playing now?"

"No games," Brady continued steadfastly.  "The time for games is over.  I am fully resigned to my fate; indeed, I deserve no better.  But there is still an unfinished matter which must be resolved, and I shall need your assistance to finish it."

"Quit speaking in riddles," Shawn snapped.  "What is this about?"

"It's about punishing the murderer of Lord John Black," Brady whispered, his blue eyes behind the mask turning to stone.

Shawn drew back as though struck.  "Lord...Lord Black is…dead?"

"Yes.  Murdered, aboard my ship, and the killer must be caught.  I shan't rest easy in my grave until it is done, and if—as you say—I am to hang, the task will fall on you to find him, whoever he may be.  I'll tell you all you need to know, but not now and not here.  Besides, it won't do to have the ladies standing out in this heat all day.  They've been through enough already."

"Yes, yes, all right," Shawn agreed, distracted.  Then, as Brady moved to pass him, he grabbed his arm.  "Blackheart, what do you mean the ladies have 'been through enough?'  Have any of them been harmed in any way?"

The pirate's eyes seemed to flicker to Lady Wesley for the slightest of moments, before he looked away, murmuring, "I pray to God, not."

Shawn, feeling more confused and frustrated by the moment, saw no reason to prolong a discussion which was getting him nowhere.  With quick military thinking, he settled the matter.  If he had to talk to Brady alone, then naturally, he would have to be imprisoned alone.  "Will your men surrender voluntarily?" he asked, in clipped tones.

Blackheart seemed relieved at his quick change of subject.  "Yes.  I've given orders, and my men never disobey me."

Shawn couldn't help be envious.  He wondered if his own men—even in their sworn duty—would have such implicit faith in him as to die for him.  "All right then."  He turned to the waiting crowd, signaling for silence.  "By order of His Majesty King Charles II, Captain Blackheart and the crew of the Vengeance are under arrest until return to Port Royal, Jamaica, where you will face trial for murder and piracy.  You are hereby ordered to resign all your weapons to the officers' possession, after which the crew will be escorted into the hold of the Vengeance and kept under guard by His Majesty's Royal Navy.  Captain Blackheart shall be held in the brig of the Miranda, thus preventing any mutiny.  The ladies shall be transported immediately back to the Miranda.  Go to it."

~*~

Chaos was the immediate reaction of all the persons on deck.  The pirates saw their own captain hand over his pistols, shot, and sword to Commodore Brady and were reluctantly doing the same to the officers who came for theirs.  Some of the navy men were heading below deck, presumably to search the hold before placing the prisoners in it.  Others were preparing to take the women back across to their own ship.

In all this activity, one pair was left unnoticed for a few moments.  Jason turned to look down upon Mimi, as she was jostled closer to him by the crowd.  She began to cry, and he framed her face with his hands as gently as he possibly could.  "Hey, hush now," he instructed softly.  "Don't cry."

She obediently swiped the tears away, but it did no good.  They were replaced in seconds.  "I can't leave you," she swore, putting her arms around his waist and burying herself close to him.  "They can't make me.  I won't leave you."

"You have to," Jason commanded, putting her away a little.  He pushed her chin up so she was forced to look directly into his eyes.  "Listen to me, Mimi.  You have to board that ship.  You have to sail back to Port Royal and pretend that nothing every happened between us."

Mimi pulled away, angry defiance spreading over her beautiful features.  "Do you honestly think I can do that?  Just forget all about you?  I could never do that!  Not in a million years."

"I'm not asking you to forget," Jason soothed, though her words tore into his heart.  "I'm asking you to 'pretend.'  There's a very great difference.  For instance, I can pretend to go docilely along with this plan.  I can pretend to resign myself to swinging by the gallows."

Mimi searched his eyes, trying to understand.  "What's going to happen, Jase?" she whispered.  "What are you planning?"

He pressed a finger to his lips, but he managed a small smile and wink at her.  "Don't ask questions, Mimi.  Just remember to pretend until I find you again."

Hope sprung to life in her face, as she pressed his hand eagerly with hers.  "You will find me though?  You promise?"

"Well, I have to.  I promised to marry you, didn't I?  And I never break my word."  Over her shoulder, Jason could see two burly sailors approaching them.  "But you have to go now."

Mimi turned her head and saw them too.  She cast one last longing look at Jason.  "I love you," she breathed.

Jason smirked.  "I know."

Then, he watched, powerless, while Mimi was pulled away to the longboats, and he was stripped of his weapons and led down to the hold of a ship no one knew better than himself.

~*~

Shawn's mind spun with all the information he had gathered from Brady over the last two hours.  That it was unusual for his friend to bear the Christian name which matched his last he had always known, but he had deemed it a coincidence.  Not once had he assumed that Captain Blackheart, the most infamous pirate of the Caribbean Sea, might by the Brady Black, named for his grandfather and lost to them all when Shawn was merely a baby. 

For years, he had been the friend of Belle's brother, and he never even knew it.  Perhaps that seemed more shocking than all the other revelations Brady had made.  Brady's belief on a pending Spanish attack on the Dolphin which had prompted his own actions in the affair seemed an everyday occurrence in comparison.  Even the murder of Lord Black, the strange deception Kevin Lambert had apparently practiced upon them all could not arouse the same feeling of disbelief.

He made his way up the ladder to the deck of the Miranda without remembering the trek up from the brig.  Lost in thought, he was unprepared to be accosted by his first mate upon his appearance.

"Commodore, are you ready to give the order to set sail?" Rex asked, before he had proceeded ten yards from the ladder.

"What?" Shawn muttered, not even hearing the question.

Rex repeated it more slowly this time.  He seemed to be wondering whether Shawn had lost his mind today.

Shawn was wondering the same thing himself, but he comprehended the inquiry this time.  He looked up at the sky.  "I think not, Evans.  A storm's blowing in.  We'll wait until it passes.  Better not to risk it at sea."

"Commodore, with all due respect, if we wait too long, we'll be stranded here through hurricane season."

"Better here than in the middle of the blasted ocean!" Shawn snapped.  "We weather here until the storm passes, and that's an order."  Muttering under his breath about insubordinate officers, Shawn turned away and stomped to his cabin.

"Sir!" Rex called after him.  "Sir, your cabin—"

But Shawn didn't wait to hear the rest.  He barreled into his accustomed sanctuary to be greeted with the surprised exclamations of four young women.  He drew away, mildly surprised.  He had been too engrossed with hearing Brady's tale to give a thought to where the ladies would stay, but now it seemed only natural they would be placed in the finest accommodations his ship had to offer.  He was backing away, muttering apologies, when Belle's voice caught him.

"Commodore, don't be ridiculous," she said, with every appearance of propriety, though she had risen upon his entrance and her cheeks were uncommonly bright.  "As you see, none of us are indecent.  Stay and sit with us a while."

Shawn looked around him, seeing Mimi engaged in needlework, while Lady Wesley held a volume in her hand that she had evidently been reading aloud to all of them.  The other maid sat silent and reserved in the corner.  "I would not intrude upon your privacy," he stammered.  "And I must own that I am not in a fit state to entertain others at the moment.  I shall, of course, hope to have the pleasure of dining with you all." 

With a short bow, he left the cabin.  He could see by the look on Belle's face that she was surprised and hurt, and well she might be, given that mere hours ago he had been counting the seconds until he could hold her again.  But right now, hers was the last face he wanted to see.  He had sworn not to tell Belle a word of Brady's story.  The promise already choked him, though he respected the reasons for which Brady had exacted it.

"You must not tell Belle, Shawn," Brady had pleaded after finally finishing his story.  He had pulled off the mask and held it in his hands, staring down at it in disgust.  "I started wearing this thing so that she would never know, her or my father.  At first, I was afraid of them.  I wanted to know what kind of people they were, if they would betray me.  But then, the longer time went on, the more I knew I could never let them know.  My father found out…though I don't know whether it was more pain to him than it was worth.  But Belle…"

Brady stopped momentarily, averting his eyes, before he lifted them to stare Shawn full in the face.  Shawn was astonished by the love he saw shining out of them.  He had never thought the pirate was capable of such an emotion.  "She's so good, you see.  If you had seen her on this trip, seen her on her feet all hours of the day trying to help others—when she was half-dead herself, you would understand.  She's lost everything, you know, because of me.  But there are two things she has left; she has you, and she has her good name.  I won't let her lose anything more because of me.  She must never know, Shawn.  Promise me, you will never tell her."

And Shawn had promised.  Unwilling to the last, it was only the thought of Belle being made to suffer that could extort such a vow from him.  He would keep his word, but seeing Belle now was impossible.  Every feature would be traced for the resemblance to her brother.  He could not tell her things which would only add to her grief.  To have lost a father was horror enough.  To know that she had a brother and was about to lose him as well would have been too much for her to bear.

"Commodore?"

Her sweet, angelic tones were an unwelcome addition to his reverie.  It did not help that she sounded afraid of being spurned again.

Slowly, Shawn turned away from the rail to face her.  Loose tendrils of blonde hair whipped against her face in the strengthening breeze.  Her eyes looked stormy as the sea around her, but she didn't allow tears to fall as she faced him.  When Shawn had first met her, he had felt she was something precious, to be sheltered from all harm.  Fragile and delicate, in mounds of satin and lace, she had been an innocent in a world far too dark.

That cherubic appearance was lessened by the weight she had lost, the brownness of her skin.  The disarming simplicity which had first made him fall in love with her had been replaced by something harder, more worldly.  The Belle before him had seen loss and felt pain.  She had been forced to depend on her own strength and make it through traumatic experiences he would willingly have kept her from all her life.

But something extraordinary had happened through her suffering.  The Belle Black he had loved was a girl; the one before him now was a woman.

That hardly made his love for her disappear.  Indeed, it heightened his adoration into a more lasting respect.  She was no goddess now; she was flesh and blood.  And she needed him.  "Belle," he murmured.

In a word, in the whisper of her name, all was forgiven.  Shawn opened his arms, and she fell into them, allowing her reserve to break, as she clung quietly to him and let tears soak his uniform while she sobbed.  "My father…" she managed.

"I know, I know, Belle," he stopped her painful explanation and pulled her even closer.  She melted into his arms, small and trembling.  She fit there perfectly.

For the first time in months, Shawn Douglas Brady felt complete.

~*~

Lady Chloe could not be prevailed upon to read any longer after Belle rushed out of the cabin.  She threw the book from her and began to pace the room, her expression as agitated as her steps.  Mimi watched her, holding onto her appearance of calm as she continued mending her dress as well she could.  It was only when Chloe began muttering things under her breath that the maid felt some action would have to be taken.  If Chloe continued this way, she would undoubtedly say something she would not want Jan to hear.

"Jan, fetch her Ladyship some water," Mimi ordered the other servant.  She had no hope of the girl obeying, but at least it would make Chloe aware again of her presence. 

Both her assumptions proved correct.  Jan merely glared at her, while Chloe stopped pacing to stare at her maid.  "Yes, Jan, you should go.  Belle's out unattended, you know.  That can hardly be proper."

"Then, send her maid to follow her," Jan returned ungraciously.

Chloe looked down upon her, her chin lifting haughtily.  "I gave you an order, Jan.  I expect you to follow it.  But don't go too close to Belle.  She and the Commodore will have things to discuss."

Jan rose in a huff and left the cabin, giving them both murderous looks as she went.  Mimi shuddered.  There was something highly disturbing about that woman. 

No sooner was she gone than Chloe resumed her march around the small room.  Mimi wondered how she could avoid getting dizzy.  This time, however, the lady didn't restrain herself to mutterings.  In Mimi's presence, she was at her most unrestrained.  "Oh, Mimi!  What are we going to do?  This isn't right!  They can't hang them.  They just can't!  They didn't do anything wrong."

Mimi chuckled, breaking into her rant.  "Well, there is the little matter of them being pirates."

Chloe whirled around to glare down at her in furious disbelief.  "How can you talk like that?  When I know…I know you love Jason."

"Yes," Mimi responded quietly, her eyes only on her sewing.  "Yes, I love him.  We're…we're going to get married."

When no answer greeted her words, she stole a look at the tall brunette.  Chloe was gaping down at her, mouth hanging open.  Mimi giggled at her surprise, which seemed to force Chloe back to some degree of composure.  "When did it happen?" she demanded, sitting herself down at the maid's feet. 

Mimi was always surprised at Chloe's breaches of decorum, but Chloe herself seemed unaware that she had done anything wrong by situating herself so, and Mimi found it only endeared the lady to her.  A woman who could be so regardless of rank had to possess goodness of which others were unaware.  "On the beach, yesterday.  Jason asked me to marry him.  What you walked in on…it wasn't what it looked like."

Chloe grinned wickedly.  "Well, it's nice to know he's going to make an honest woman of you."  Her smile fell as quickly as it came.  "Oh, but he's not, Mimi!  How can he, if they're going to hang him?  This must be even worse for you than it is for me."

Mimi had a doubt of this.  She had not asked the reason behind Chloe's soaked appearance the day before out of a fear of hearing the answer, but she rather imagined what had taken place between her and the captain.  "It would be," she said slowly, "except I'm not completely convinced of Jason's hanging.  He made me a promise, and he never breaks his word."

Lady Wesley looked up at her in thorough confusion.  "What do you mean, Mimi?  Do you know something I don't?"

Mimi shrugged, looking through the porthole to the ship anchored next to theirs.  "I don't know anything.  I would feel a lot better if I knew.  But I feel…I feel like there's more to this story than we know, and I think we shouldn't give up hope quite so soon.  It's a long way between here and Execution Dock.  Who knows what might happen?"