Chapter Two

Isobel eagerly drank the water that James had given her. She watched the man out of the corner of her eye, causing her to spill some on her. She handed the water bottle back to him and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Thank you," she said after a moment, "I was so thirsty."

He shrugged and smiled. He was a very handsome man, she thought, with a nice smile. She liked him. It was too bad that he was one of her enemies. No, not him, the British Navy, but still he was part of them. "It was the least I could do," he said, "I am glad you are okay."

"I wouldn't be," she replied, resting a hand on his shoulder, "If it weren't for you. You saved me. That was very brave. Master Blake told me that you jumped into the water before anyone could stop you."

He looked down. "Really, it was my duty," he said shyly, "Any man would have done it."

She placed a finger under his chin and tipped it up to look at her. She made her smile warm. "But you did. Please accept my thanks and don't try to make it as if you did nothing."

He nodded then his eyes drifted to her hands touching him. Realizing that she was probably making him uncomfortable she removed her hands and leaned out over the railing. She had always been the kind of person who needed to touch and hug people. Her father said she got it from her mother.

He came to stand beside her. Maybe she hadn't made him uncomfortable, for he was standing so close to her that their bodies pressed together and she could feel his breath on her skin. She turned her head and smile up at him. Her smile must have been a little more than friendly because she thought that she noticed a faint coloring in his cheeks. She thought that he must be older than her- she was only 19- but he didn't seem to have had much experience with woman. True, she didn't have much experience with men. Well, not much romantic experience anyway. She grew up with men, but in all her 19 years she hadn't become romantically involved with any of them. She thought James's shyness was adorable.

"You're from Ireland, aren't you?" his voice broke into her thoughts, "You said Irish."

"Yes," she said, no use lying about that. She had lied about her last name. Her real last name was Bryant. She was the youngest and favorite daughter of the now dead pirate, Patrick Bryant. If she had told them her real last name, someone might have made the connection and then there would be no denying what she was, who she was. A pirate. And then it would be off to the hangman's noose for her. Thinking of her father made her get teary-eyed. He had died a year ago, killed along with all of his crew but one by the infamous Captain Blackeye. The one surviving crewman, named Jon Harfor, had come to Isobel- her father had left her in Tortuga- and told her what had happened. Blackeye had come seeking the treasure that her father had found a month earlier. It was a huge treasure. Blackeye had murdered her father to get to the gold. Hatred and anger burned in Isobel's heart. She had sworn that very night to find Blackeye and avenge her father. That was why she was here, looking for him. The pirate ship that had attacked her had not been his. She had not recognized its sails. Luckily for her, the men who had come aboard dismissed her for some serving maid or whore instead of the ship's captain, and only knocked her out instead of killing her. She had been lucky, but she had still lost her ship, and a good ship it was! Now she was in the hands of the British Navy- as a guest, yes, and not a prisoner, but still- there was no way she would be able to get another ship soon. She felt like crying.

"What's wrong?" She hadn't even realized she was crying until James tipped up her face and wiped a tear off her cheek. "Did I say something to upset you?"

Isobel shook her head and sniffed. What was wrong with her? Pirates didn't cry! "No, it's not you," she replied, "It's just thinking of home. It makes me a little sad." That wasn't a total lie.

"Oh." James placed a comforting hand on the small of her back. "I am sorry. I didn't know. We'll make sure you see Ireland again." She knew she wasn't imagining the disappointment in his voice. Could it be because he wanted her to stay with him?

A throat clearing behind them made him remove his hand and step away from her. She turned to see who had interrupted them. The man wasn't as tall as James was, but he was much fatter. His hair was powdered white and the ranks on his coat showed that he was the captain. He eyed James coolly and said, "Good work, Norrington. I will make sure that you are recognized for this deed. You are dismissed."

James bowed to him. "Thank you, Sir." He turned and smiled at her also bowing before walking away. She was angry with the captain for sending him away. She enjoyed being with him. She tried not to glare as the captain addressed her.

"I am Captain Hawthorne. I wanted to find you and make sure that you were being taken care of well. I apologize that we did not have any women's clothes. We weren't expecting to have any females on board."

"It is alright," she said with a too sweet smile, "I wear man's clothes anyway." The naval uniform they had given her to wear did not fit very well. The breeches were far too long and tight on her hips. The blouse was so long that she was surprised that it was not coming out of the bottom of the breeches, and it was cut too low. James was a nice and polite man, but even he snuck a peek down it. But anything else would have been much worse.

She thought Hawthorne's nose wrinkled in disgust, but she couldn't be sure. She hated the cold way he looked down his nose at her. "Ah, yes," he said after a moment, "I see. We will have you in Port Royal as soon as possible. Is there anything you will be needing?"

She made a mocking curtsy. "Not at all, Captain. Thank you for your hospitality."

He sniffed and walked away. She thought she heard him mutter, "Bloody Irish." She sniffed with satisfaction and turned back to study the waves.

That night James lay in his bed thinking of Isobel. For some reason he had this feeling that she was more than she seemed. He just couldn't shake it. It was almost like it was warning him against her. He didn't care. He usually didn't ignore his feelings, but he couldn't help it with her.

He sighed. Soon they would be in Port Royal, and she would get a ship for Ireland. He would never see her again. Part of him wanted him to distance himself from her so he wouldn't get hurt. The other part wanted him to spend as much time with her as he could, to be in her presence for as long as she would tolerate him. He decided to listen to the second half. Who knew what could happen between now and when she left. He prayed the Seaspray traveled slowly.