Happy New Year to all my lovely readers!

I have in turn both loved and despaired of this chapter so I hope you like the finished result.

Pressure on the back of her throat roused her to consciousness, gagging and choking. She could hear someone saying her name in anxious tones, and she fought to open eyes that felt heavy and swollen as if she had been weeping. Realising that her head was cushioned on Billy's shoulder and it was his fingers pressing on the back of her throat she tried weakly to push him away and opened her eyes.

'Thank fuck!' Billy exclaimed, swiftly drawing his hand back and making her cough feebly.

Still holding her he pointed to the apple-like fruits amongst her scattered onions.

'Sarah, this is important, did you eat any of those, even just a bite?'

Sarah turned her head to look at the green fruits and said hoarsely, 'No! I brought them back for you to see. I didn't eat anything, it's my skin, it burns!'

His tight grip on her relaxed slightly and he sighed gustily in apparent relief.

'I think I know what's wrong with you. Did you shelter from the rain under a tree with shiny green leaves and reddish grey bark?'

'I…I don't know, I think so. What is it? It hurts!' She twisted in his grip, trying to escape the unwelcome pressure on her inflamed skin.

'I'm going to do something about that but you are going to need to do exactly what I say. You're going to be fine, especially as you haven't eaten any of those fruits, but I need to get the poison off you.'

'The poison?' she squeaked, ceasing her squirming.

'That burning on your arms it's poison from the tree, I'm going to wash it off. It will be sore for a few of days but it will heal. Now, close your eyes and keep them closed until I say so.'

She frowned up at him. 'Why do I need to close my eyes?'

'For fuck's sake, what did I just say? If the poison gets in your eyes you might go blind. Now shut them.'

She swiftly did as she was told.

'Can you stand?' he said. Her legs felt shaky, the dizziness of her faint still upon her but she nodded uncertainly and using his shoulder for support attempted to lever herself up. He stilled her with gentle pressure on her shoulder.

'I don't think that's going to work,' he said and she felt him slip his hands under her knees and her shoulders and pick her up.

Even her discomfort didn't stop her from silently marvelling at his ability to lift her as if she weighed nothing more than a feather. For a woman she was exceptionally tall, standing even an inch or two taller than her husband in her stockinged feet and yet not a single grunt of exertion escaped Billy as he stood and set off with jolting strides towards the distant rushing sound of the waterfall.

His arms around her were like iron, his broad chest warm against her side and he smelt of wood smoke, his capable presence an unexpected balm easing her panic. She was surprised but it was undeniable that her first instinct had been to run to him, that she had known in the depths of her fright that he would know how to ease her suffering. She was pondering this revelation, gritting her teeth against the burning pain, when the roar of the waterfall in her ears told her they had reached the pool and Billy set her gently on the ground.

'Take your hat and skirts off,' he said gruffly and she heard a clinking noise of metal on metal followed by the slap of leather as he took off his belt and threw it on the ground. She opened her mouth to protest and then clamped her lips firmly together and fumbled blindly with the ties of her petticoat. There was a rustle and the tapping of wooden beads as he discarded his shirt. She unknotted the strings and pushed down her skirts, stepping unsteadily out of them and as she did so his hand clasped hers and the other slipped under her elbow to support her. Then she felt his warm fingers lift her chin as he unknotted and removed her hat with a sweep that fanned cooling air onto her hot cheeks. Without warning he picked her up again and there was a splash and a swish of water as he began to wade into the pool. She felt relief that he had allowed her to keep the relative modesty provided by her chemise. The cool water lapped at her feet and then gradually crept up her body as he waded further into the water. She put a hand on his chest to steady herself and gave a stifled gasp when her hand came into contact with his bare skin. She removed it immediately but then finding nowhere else to put it, gingerly replaced it and tried not to think about his unclothed state.

'Sarah, I'm going to put you in the water properly now, I need to wash all the poison off to stop the swelling and cool the burns,' Billy said, his breath warm on her ear.

'Swelling? What swelling?' she asked distracted.

'The swelling on your face.'

'My face has swelled up?' she exclaimed, putting her hands up to her cheeks, which sure enough felt puffy and sore.

She felt the rumble of laughter in his chest and then he lowered her so she was submerged up to her neck in the water. He began to rub at her forearms, sluicing fresh water across them, cooling the tender skin. His arm was firmly around her waist holding her against him as he began the same process on her neck until he suddenly cursed and she felt the fabric of her chemise give and tear down the back.

'Shit, sorry, I tore your chemise,' he said apologetically.

She gave a long-suffering sigh.

'It's fine, I can sew it up.'

He continued to sluice water down her back. She felt strange to have this man pressed so intimately against her, his hands brushing against her arms and down her back, when she had spent so much time keeping her wary distance but her distrust seemed to have evaporated somewhere along the line and her only feeling now was resigned mortification.

'You need to wash your face.' Billy's voice in her ear startled her out of her reverie. 'I'll keep hold of your hand, just duck under and rinse it. I think your hat probably protected you from the worst of it but best to be safe.'

'I can swim, Billy,' she pointed out a little tartly.

'I know,' he said patiently, 'but you also fainted and I don't want you to drown as well as being poisoned.'

'You don't?' she said softly.

'Of course I fucking don't!' he said half exasperated, half amused. She didn't answer but let go of his shoulders, treading water as his hand found hers and then ducking under to rinse her face. She held her breath as long as she could and then burst to the surface gasping. Billy immediately pulled her back to him, clasping her around the waist and smoothing drops of water from her face. His touch was gentle, a whispering caress that belied the iron strength in his arms and chest.

'You can open your eyes now,' he said, 'but if you feel any burning then get them in water straight away.'

She nodded to show that she understood and then, blinking furiously to remove the water drops clinging to her eyelashes, she opened her eyes. Billy's face loomed just above her, blue eyes fixed on her face, looking concerned.

'Can you see properly?'

'I think so, nothing is blurred or anything, and no pain or burning.'

'Good.' He smiled. 'That's a relief. I once knew a man who had done exactly what you did only the fucking idiot rubbed his eyes with sap on his hands. He went blind almost straight away. He got better but his eyes were never the same.'

He shifted his grip on her waist and she put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself. Unable to hold his gaze she looked away and asked, 'Is my face very bad?'

His fingers under her chin brought her head gently back to look at him. He was smiling.

'Your face is fine, just a little swelling around the eyes but it will go down in a couple of hours. The burns will take a few days but you just need to keep them cool and try not to scratch when the itching starts.'

'Itching too? I'll look forward to that,' she said dryly.

He laughed but trailed off rather awkwardly as he looked at her. She could feel his heart hammering in his chest under her hand, matching the fluttering pulse of her own heart as confusion and some other emotion she couldn't name warred inside her. She felt oddly ensnared by his intense gaze, unable look away. He wet his lips and she watched as the pink tip of his tongue traced along his lower lip, an action that made it difficult for her to draw a breath.

A bird suddenly took flight from the canopy with a loud squawk and Billy looked up with a frown, clearing his throat before abruptly letting go of her waist and catching her hand to tug her towards the shore. She allowed herself to be pulled along, both her mind and her heart racing. Once ashore he picked up her hat, its securing fabric and her petticoats and washed them thoroughly in the shallows. He kept his eyes averted from her as he wrung out the fabric and put the bundle down on the ground, as if suddenly embarrassed, but it was only when she looked down at herself she realised the modesty she imagined her chemise gave her was entirely an illusion, particularly when soaking wet and slipping off her shoulders. She felt blood rush into her cheeks and bent to quickly gather her things.

'I should go back and find something to wear,' she said in a strangled tone.

Billy didn't look up but replied, 'That might be a good idea, there are some shirts in the trunk in the hut that you can use.'

She hurried quickly down the path towards the hut and didn't look back, so never caught him staring intently after her retreating form.

Back in the hut she found a shirt to wear. It was naturally far too big for her but she rolled the sleeves up and once tucked into her skirts decided it would suffice until she had mended her chemise, which she had hung with her petticoats to dry on the line. Billy followed not long after but it was enough time for her to have regained her composure and she noted he tapped discreetly on the wooden frame of the door and awaited her invitation before he entered. Her arms were still sore, despite the wash he had given her so she was relieved to see that he was carrying a bucket of water and several damp rags.

He held them up and said, 'I thought this might cool the burning. There's not a lot else we can do about it unless I can find some aloe. It'll get better but will take some time.'

He put the bucket down and threw the rags in then indicated that she should sit on the roughly constructed bed. It had a makeshift rush mattress covered with some threadbare blankets but it was not as comfortable as her hammock. He wet one of the rags in the bucket and squeezing out the excess water pulled her shirt back and placed it on her skin. She sighed with relief at the sensation of cool water and allowed him to do the same to her arms.

'You should probably get some sleep, it will speed up the healing. I'll bring you some dinner in a bit,' he said.

'Here? I can't take your bed,' she said, glancing round the hut.

'I can sleep in the hammock, it's no bother,' he said with a shrug.

Sarah wasn't feeling in the slightest bit tired but she didn't want to dislodge the cooling rags so she acquiesced to his directive to rest, taking up the botany book and studying the preparation of the herbs she had picked earlier. Later he brought her a plate of stew and some fruit, replaced her wraps and left her to it. She could hear him moving around outside, stoking the fire and washing the dishes. When he came back to check on her before going to bed she sat up to allow him access to her back and watched as he once more wet the rags and began laying them on her.

'Thank you for looking after me.'

He looked a bit embarrassed and ducked his head almost shyly.

'Well, you're practically crew now.'

'Crew?'

'Yes,' he said firmly.

'Does that make you Captain?' she asked. A shadow passed across his face, so quickly she thought she might have imagined it, a brief vision of apparent anger and self-disgust. Whatever it had been it was gone in an instant, his mask of good humour back in place.

'Christ, no! I never wanted to be Captain.'

'Well, it can't be me, I haven't a heaven sent clue what I'm doing,' she paused thoughtfully. 'I think we should put it to the vote.'

His explanations of the democratic voting system aboard a pirate ship had fascinated her. It seemed so civilised and fair and quite at odds with all of her preconceived ideas of pirates and he had spent some time patiently answering her myriad questions.

He finished wrapping her arm and smiled slowly.

'Fine, but then we will have a vote for the new Quartermaster.'

'Aye, Captain.'

He fought it but his lips twitched and she found herself smiling tentatively up at him. He looked surprised but smiled back, then a brief flash of alarm lit his features and he bid her a rather hurried goodnight and was gone.

The next morning her arms were still sore but markedly improved from the day before. She dressed herself in Billy's shirt and her petticoat, washed her face, which was no longer swollen as far as she could tell, and left the hut. Billy was tending the fire but paused to greet her and ask how she was feeling. She reassured him that she felt fine, despite a little pain. She went to find her basket, gathering all the fallen edibles, the green fruits included, picking them up dubiously by the stalks.

'Billy, what do I do with these?' she asked coming back into camp and holding one up for his inspection. He looked around from the fire pit and narrowed his eyes.

'Chuck 'em in the forest and then wash your hands in the stream.'

'Are they really that dangerous?'

'I'm not sure, but the Spanish call them something like 'little apple of death' so I think we should definitely err on the side of fucking caution, don't you?'

'Definitely,' she agreed and then did as he had suggested, giving the onions and herbs a rinse in the stream just to be on the safe side. He was seated by the fire when she came back and he patted the seat next to him.

'Come here, I want to have another look at your arms.'

She trotted over obediently and sat down, holding out her arms to him. He inspected them closely and then her neck. She tried not to shiver at the sensation of his breath on the back of her neck.

'Well?'

'I think you'll live,' he said with a smile.

'Well, that is a relief,' she said getting briskly to her feet and brushing invisible dirt from the front of her skirts. 'Heaven knows you wouldn't be able to survive without me' she added as she went to the other chest to pull out a shallow bottomed pan.

When she turned he was looking at her with an arrested expression on his face that she couldn't quite read. Her movement seemed to bring back to himself and he smiled easily.

'No I wouldn't, what would I do without you here to cook my meals and wash my clothes?'

'You'd revert to savagery within the week, I'm sure. Did you catch any fish yesterday?'

He nodded and strode into the hut to fetch them. Sarah cut up her onions while Billy filleted and cleaned the fish. She had made it very clear to him that if she was going to be cooking the fish he caught she would only do so on the understanding that they came to her ready for the pot. He had attempted to protest but on this she had stood firm. Chopping up some herbs and slicing some sour orange slices she accepted the fish from Billy with a small smile of thanks and stuffed the inner cavities of both fish with the mixture of onions and herbs, laying the orange slices on top and pinning the fish closed with some small sharp twigs.

Once the fish were sizzling gently in the pan she pulled her now dry chemise down from the line and inspected the tear in the back. She tutted a bit at the size of it but was relieved to see it was relatively neat. She found her sewing kit in her trunk and took out one of her precious needles and some green thread. Seating herself by the fire she began to sew up the rip. Billy reappeared with a stack of wood which he dropped in the pile next to the fire before inspecting the underside of the cooking fish. She watched him pluck a stray piece of crispy skin off and pop in in his mouth.

'Stop picking…' she said with a tut to which he responded by grinning unrepentantly at her.

'Sorry, but you shouldn't make it so delicious if you don't want me to try it.'

She ducked her head to hide a smile and then held up her chemise. 'I tutted because of this. Could you have made any more of a mess of it, the one item of clothing I possess?'

'I've seen the stays and bodice so don't tell me you have nothing else to wear, besides that shirt is very fetching.'

Sarah regarded the over large shirt somewhat sceptically for a moment.

'Fine, the one item of clothing I have that is suitable for this climate,' she retorted, then shuddered dramatically. 'Don't mention those terrible stays ever again, if there is one thing to be said for living like a savage it is the freedom from stays!'

Billy laughed and then said, 'I really didn't mean to tear it you know. It could've been worse, I could've made you take the whole thing off?'

Flushing to the roots of her hair she looked up reproachfully and found him regarding her, eyes brimming with mischief.

'Sorry, I couldn't resist,' he said sounding not in the slightest bit contrite.

She pressed her rebellious lips into a thin line and bent her head to her sewing once more, refusing to dignify his teasing with a response. She sewed up the rent in no time while Billy read his book and occasionally flipped the cooking fish. After they had eaten she took up her chemise again staring, dissatisfied, at the green thread for some time. Though her stitching was as neat as ever there really was no disguising the original tear, the thread contrasting starkly with the white of her chemise. Billy looked up briefly when she got up but didn't say anything until she returned from quick foray into the forest with two supple twigs that she proceed to lash into rough circles with some short bits of twine.

'What are you doing?' he asked as he watched her fiddle with the smaller of the two hoops she had created. She placed the fabric of her chemise over the smaller hoop, adjusting it so the stitching of the tear was in the centre and then placed the larger hoop over the top. It wasn't perfect but the weave of the fabric prevented the hoops sliding about too much. She brandished it triumphantly at him.

'I'm making an embroidery hoop.'

He raised an eyebrow, 'An embroidery hoop? Just the thing for surviving on a deserted island.'

'You'd be surprised, it might be just the thing to stop me being driven out of my senses through boredom and slaughtering all my companions.'

'In that case, I'll shut the fuck up.'

'Do that' she said and began to embellish her stitches with a design of vines and leaves. He left her to it for a time but eventually came over to examine her work.

'That looks nice, but why are you doing it?'

She shrugged, 'It's relaxing and I like doing it. Keeps my hands busy and my mind free to wander.' She inspected the leaf she had just finished, 'Besides, it looks pretty.'

In case you are interested, the tree that poisoned Sarah is the Manchineel (Hippomane Mancinella), is native to the Bahamas and is considered one of the most poisonous trees in the world. The Spanish name apparently really does translate as 'little apple of death' and standing under the tree in a rainstorm would produce symptoms similar to Sarah's. Obviously I am no expert but I have tried to make it as realistic as possible.