Huge thanks to my lovely reviewers, your kind words are keeping me motivated.

Woodes kisses her worshipfully, whispering her name, sweet words of apology and promise. She chases the soft touch of his lips as he pulls away and caresses the curve of her jaw, his thumb stroking her bottom lip. The sheets beneath her are silken against her skin and she arches her back against the sensuous feel of them, pressing herself closer to her husband. He gives a penitent sigh, kissing her again and she feels something wild and fierce flare up inside her, the sudden urge to howl her triumph to the world.

He is mine!

He strokes her skin reverently, and she glories in every gentle caress and softly worded assurance, feeling safe and loved in his strong arms. She traces the corded muscles of his broad shoulders and chest, revelling in the feel of his bronzed skin, smooth beneath her inquisitive fingers. The feel of his large, gifted hands on her body yield a heady rush of sensation making her hum with pleasure and bringing an answering low groan of satisfaction from the man before her. She takes his face in her hands, the scruff of his beard scratching pleasantly on the skin of her palms and kisses him deeply. When she pulls away and looks into his eyes she sees not the stormy blue-grey she expects but a much brighter blue, like the sun warmed shallows.

Sarah sat up with a jerk, breathing heavily. Her hammock, ever alert to an imprudent movement, twisted beneath her, wobbling momentarily before sending her tumbling to the ground where an exposed tree root met her elbow. She let out a sharp cry of pain, slumping where she had landed and rubbing her throbbing elbow, cursing silently. She heard movement from the hut and rolled her eyes unseen by anyone.

Perfect.

Billy's voice sounded in the darkness, concerned.

'Sarah?'

'Billy.'

'You cried out?'

He came out of the hut as he spoke, the moon throwing out enough light that she could see his silhouette against the silver night. He was shirtless, though she supposed she should be thankful that he was at least wearing trousers, the man had no sense of decorum. She was also grateful that the darkness would hide her rosy cheeks.

'I fell from my hammock, and hit my elbow,' she explained, hoping to hurry him back to bed. It didn't work, he came towards her and held out a hand. She hesitated for a second and then clasped it, allowing him to pull her up and releasing him as soon as she found her footing.

'I had a bad dream and I must have shifted in my sleep,' she said, crossing her arms across her chest. The threadbare blanket she slept with, more for decencies sake than out of necessity, lay in a heap at her feet and she was conscious that her shift did not cover her lower legs.

'Oh, I thought I heard you say my name,' Billy said.

Good grief!

'You were in my dream, I think,' she said quickly, mind working feverishly. 'I dreamt about the storm but you were on the ship too.'

That was good, safe. No difficult questions to be asked about that, she thought, pleased with her lie.

The answer seemed to satisfy him.

'Are you sure you're okay?'

'I'm fine, just a bruised elbow and wounded pride.'

She saw the pale flash of his teeth in the dim light as he yawned and then smiled, raising a hand to tuck a trailing lock of her hair behind her ear. Sarah tensed in astonishment. He smoothed the strands down and then said, 'I'd better go back to bed then,' apparently unaware of her reaction his absent-minded gesture.

'Yes, sleep well,' she managed to say.

'I'll try, if you could keep the noise down,' he said in an amused tone, walking away.

'Goodnight Billy,' she said in parting.

'Goodnight Sarah,' he responded, already at the door of the hut. He ducked inside and she let out a long breath. She turned and clambered carefully back onto her hammock, lying on her back, her mind a whirl.

Trying not to think of her dream proved all but impossible when flashes of recollection kept imposing themselves upon her thoughts; smooth skin under her fingertips, tender, sweet kisses, the sensuous caress of gentle hands. She resolutely ignored the fact that Woodes had never had such tanned skin, nor the muscular frame. The dream reminded her painfully of the naïve daydreams she had entertained prior to her marriage when she had been innocent of relations between men and women and excited to welcome her husband to her bed, woefully ignorant of what was to come.

Her maid had taken down her hair at her request as she was prepared for bed on her wedding night, arranging it artfully over one shoulder in loose curls. Her ministrations were accompanied by sly comments and knowing smiles that Sarah hadn't understood and didn't dare question. Had it been her own maid maybe she would have shyly asked what would happen but the woman fussing with her hair was her husband's servant, newly recruited to serve the young mistress, and as such Sarah was loath to parade her ignorance in front of this sharp faced female.

There had been no-one to tell the new bride what to expect but she had lain in her bed awaiting her husband with nervous anticipation. She had not realised it would hurt, although it only really hurt the first time, subsequent intimacies being only uncomfortable, and she had not realised that within minutes of completing his duty Woodes would absent himself with a cool goodnight. She had vaguely thought that there might be kisses involved, some words of affection but Woodes instead had always conducted himself with a coldness that she found at first bewildering, then intimidating and she quickly learned to lie quietly until it was over. It hadn't taken her long to come to the conclusion that her husband viewed her as a convenient source of wealth and heirs and nothing more.

She had lain alone in the aftermath of that first time, her thighs sticky and sore, teetering between the urge to weep and the urge to laugh. She had cleaned herself up at the porcelain basin, ignoring the red tinted water, reluctant to call her maid and have a witness to her shame and Woodes' disregard. Afterwards she had crawled into her bed, skin creeping when it came into contact with the cold, wet stain on her sheets, and pondered what had just occurred. Even she, sheltered as she was, had heard certain rumours that abounded in society of women who had committed the ultimate sin against their husbands and now these rumours made even less sense to her. There seemed no rational reason to cuckold your husband if this was the secret that lay between the sheets of the marriage bed. For duty or for position she could somewhat comprehend but if neither of those things were on offer, what possible reason would anyone willingly go to a man's bed? It made no sense at all.

The next morning she had burned with humiliation when her maid had come to help her dress for the day. It was impossible that the servants would not know her shame, the servants knew everything, and there was no hiding her husband's absence or her pale listless demeanour in the place of the expected blushing bride. Unlike the previous evening, her maid refrained from comment for which Sarah was profoundly grateful, although it only confirmed that the woman was well aware of what had transpired between the newlyweds and made Sarah's mortification all the worse. Sarah dismissed her as quickly as possible, making a light comment regarding Woodes being called away by his man of business that rang hollow in her own ears and, she had no doubt, didn't fool her handmaid for a second.

Her thoughts raced as she carefully inscribed another number onto the corner of the card she was restoring, aided by a crude duck feather quill and a bottle of very grainy ink rescued from the trunk in the hut. Half the pack already lay on the ground around her, secured with small stones, drying in the sun. Billy was sitting in the shade of one of the trees sharpening the axe, stone screeching against the metal with each pass.

Each swirling thought gave rise to so many emotions and questions, clamouring for an explanation which was beyond her. Woodes and that woman, the dream, rumours she had heard in Bristol, the comments of her maid on the night of her wedding. There was a suggestion of something there that she was missing, some piece of knowledge, and it rankled.

She looked over at her fellow castaway, wondering if she had the courage to ask him. He would not be scandalised by her indelicate question but she was loath to expose her ignorance to him, particularly on such an intimate subject. She gave herself a mental shake, trying to focus on her labours, placing a newly annotated card to dry with the others, but those unwelcome thoughts kept intruding.

Billy would probably know the answer, she had no misapprehensions regarding his or any other man's chastity. Although his understanding of a woman's perspective might be lacking, he was her only recourse if she wished for this mystery to be explained.

Eventually she said very tentatively, 'Billy?'

The sharpening of the axe drowned her out and he didn't look up so she tried again, a little louder, in the pause between scrapes. He glanced over and she immediately fell to regarding the card in front of her.

'Yes?'

Taking her fence in a rush she blurted out her question, 'Why do people have affairs?'

She heard him put down the axe but didn't look up.

'What?'

'What I mean to say is, well, you said that women come to your bed willingly but I don't understand why they would,' she said, already feeling flustered and regretting the impulse that had made her speak in the first place.

'You are struggling to understand why a woman would come willingly to my bed?' he said so dryly that she was forced to meet his gaze. He was regarding her with a slightly mocking expression on his face. 'I'm of a mind to be insulted.'

'Oh no, that's not what I…I mean…I meant any man's bed. Not you specifically.'

She could feel her cheeks redden as she struggled to get her words out. This had been a very bad idea but she had started it now so had no choice but to go on. He was looking at her with an expression of blank incomprehension, clearly perplexed by her question.

'Were you married to any of the women?' she asked, ducking her head and replenishing the ink on her quill.

'Was I married to any of which women?'

'The women that you….'

'Fucked?' he supplied helpfully with raised brows. Her face was flaming now at his coarseness but she nodded. 'No, I was not.'

'Did you pay them?'

He had the grace to look sheepish.

'Occasionally,' he admitted, 'but not always.'

'You see, that is what I don't understand, if not duty or perhaps for money why would they?'

He was looking at her like she was an idiot and she was fairly certain she had inadvertently offended him.

'Pleasure, fun, companionship,' he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She blinked and squinted uncertainly at him.

'Pleasure?'

'Yes, pleasure. Surely…' he stopped and she noticed he was frowning now. She shrank from further exposing her naïveté to his searching stare and tried turn aside his curiosity with airy unconcern, but what she had hoped would come across as nonchalance sounded more like babbling to her ears.

'I see, I thought that there must be something more to it. There was always gossip in Bristol and I couldn't fathom why anyone would risk their social standing for the sake of something that was rather uncomfortable and not very pleasant.'

Her light tone had clearly failed to discourage him, his frown had deepened and he was getting to his feet.

She said rather breathlessly, 'It was a silly question, it doesn't matter', hoping that he would take the hint and let the matter drop but when she looked up he was right in front of her, kneeling on the other side of the chest she was using as a table and regarding her with such a concerned look that her heart gave an odd little stutter.

'Uncomfortable?'

She didn't know what to say so she just nodded. She wanted to look away but his gaze had her caught. There was an expression of pity in his eyes that made her want to weep but she wasn't sure why.

'Sarah,' he said her name so softly it was almost a caress, 'it shouldn't hurt, at least not after the first time,' he amended.

'I said 'uncomfortable',' she said, embarrassment making her pedantic.

'It shouldn't be uncomfortable then. A man can make it so…fuck! How can I explain this? If a man knows how to please a woman she can enjoy it too.'

She considered his words thoughtfully, worrying her thumb nail with her teeth.

'Well, that explains a lot.'

He sat back on his heels and smiled at her dry tone. She couldn't help but smile too, although it was a little forced and her mind was still racing with this new information.

That there could be a pleasurable side to the act had simply not occurred to her, although she was not entirely convinced that Billy was correct in his assessment, he was a man after all. What did he really know of a woman's pleasure? That being said, it would explain a great deal. However much she might like to deny it, Woodes was not an attentive husband and pleasing her had never been high on his list of priorities. She looked up to find Billy regarding her seriously.

'Will you tell me?' he said gently. She heaved a sigh.

'I don't really know what to tell you.'

'Why did you marry him?'

'You know why, and you say it like I had much of a choice,' she said with weary exasperation. 'Our fathers were friends, he lived in the house next door, he was of a good lineage, my father had money and a marriage between the families was of obvious mutual benefit. That being said, I was pleased initially, he was handsome, a gentleman on the rise and I falsely assumed that he had expressed some affection for me.'

'Jesus! What did he do?'

She shook her head, 'Don't misunderstand me. He was never cruel, he never beat me, he was just…indifferent. I came to the marriage assuming that at some stage there would be mutual affection, or at the very least respect, but once we were married he spent as little time in the presence of his wife as possible.' Raising her eyes to his, she said frankly, 'It is a very difficult thing to seduce your husband when he simply isn't there. He did his duty and I did mine but given what you've just told me there could have been a good deal more.'

'Did no-one…well, tell you?'

'There wasn't really anyone to tell me, had it even occurred to me to ask. My mother died before I married and I couldn't put something like that in a letter to Mary. My father just told me to do my duty, provide Woodes with some heirs.'

'You never mentioned…'

'It wasn't to be,' she said dully, stifling the anguish that threatened to choke her. 'Only once was I with child and she came too soon, she was too small. I didn't even get a chance to name her. It took such a long time I had started to think there was something wrong with me. I was so happy when I realised, I thought maybe it would animate Woodes' affection towards me, but it was just a further wedge to drive between us. He was unimpressed with a daughter and found my grief excessive, I think. He was home even less after that.'

Billy plucked the quill from her unresisting fingers and took her hand, warming its cold numbness with his own.

'And then he came here?'

She accepted his silent consolation for a moment and then carefully withdrew her hand from his.

'Yes, and made his second marriage, the irony of which is not lost on me. There was I trying my best to be the perfect, pious and dutiful wife, as I had always been taught to be, and he left me for a woman who I can only assume was neither pious or dutiful.'

'No she was not,' Billy said rather too emphatically.

'Whom he promptly got with child.'

'Ah,' he exhaled softly.

'Yes, that upset me somewhat,' she said dryly before lapsing into silence.

Eventually her curiosity got the better of her.

'You knew her.'

It was a statement rather than a question and Billy cocked his head at her.

'Eleanor Guthrie?' she clarified. He nodded but didn't elaborate. She huffed in exasperation. 'Tell me about her.'

'You sure you want to talk about her?'

'No, not really but I want to understand why my husband left me for a criminal. The papers called her the Pirate Queen.'

'She wasn't our queen,' he said with a wry grin. 'Though she did rule us with a rod of iron. No pirate crossed Eleanor Guthrie lightly, as Charles Vane learned to his cost.'

'What did she do?' Sarah asked, her imagination conjuring up lurid images of a violent harpy, men cowering at her feet.

'She made it impossible for him to trade in Nassau, ruined him as a Captain.'

He chuckled at her expression.

'You look disappointed.'

'I just thought, I don't know what I thought but it was more…dramatic than interfering with his trade interests.'

His face fell suddenly, 'She did worse later, she and Rogers, but that's a story for another day.'

Billy's grim expression and clear disinclination to discuss the matter further made Sarah bite back her next question and instead she asked, 'Was she very beautiful?'

He eyed her cautiously, she could tell he was weighing his words.

'Yes.'

'Of course she was,' she said glumly.

She looked up to find him staring, a troubled expression on his face.

'It was inevitable, Woodes always liked a pretty face. It was one of the reasons I was surprised when he married me.'

'You're not…' he started to say but she waved him silent.

'Don't,' she said and he didn't continue. 'What did Charles Vane do to earn her wrath?' she said without thinking but to her surprise Billy answered readily.

'He was her lover, I am not sure of the details but he displeased her in some way and from then on he was barred from trade.'

'Her lover? She took a pirate for a lover?' Sarah was astounded. 'And she was still accepted in society?'

'In Nassau society, yes. I'm not sure that that would fit with your idea of society but the same rules don't apply there.'

Sarah ruminated on that for a moment before curiosity drove her to question him further.

'What was she like?'

'Like? She was strong, wilful, she didn't take shit from anyone,' he said with a faintly reminiscent smile. 'She ran her father's business, better than he could himself while he lived off the profits and considered himself the true ruler of his empire. Every man in Nassau knew better.'

Sarah sighed, feeling self-pity well up inside her. It was galling to discover that the woman who had stolen her husband from her was the very antithesis of all the virtues that she had been taught to cultivate to secure a husband. Much as it was a lowering feeling to realise that those very virtues perhaps had driven her husband away.

'You're different to her,' he said quietly.

'I need no reminders.'

'It wasn't an insult. You are loyal, amongst other things. Eleanor was many things but she wasn't loyal, she did whatever was best for Eleanor,' he said, a touch of bitterness colouring his tone.

'Yes, loyal to a fault and that is hardly something to ignite passion in a man's breast. Loyal and dutiful, I know what I am.'

'I didn't mean to upset you.'

'It's my fault, I asked and I knew that I wouldn't like the answer.'

Billy cleared his throat uncomfortably, 'She wasn't to every man's taste.'

'Just the one that matters.' She gave herself a shake. 'Sorry, I thought I wanted to know but now... God, so many things I wish I could change.' She stood abruptly, smoothing down her skirts. 'I think I may go for a walk. Thank you for being honest with me. I'm sorry for…for…asking you so many difficult questions.'

'It's not…I'm not...I'm sorry I couldn't help.'

'You helped, at least…I think you did, I'll know better once I've had time to think about it all. I know the truth now and the truth is probably better than my own imaginings.'

She smoothed her skirts again and walked away, avoiding his gaze which she knew would be laced with pity, not really concentrating on where her feet were taking her. As it happened she found herself at the lookout where she sat and stared for a long time at the horizon. She was too far away and so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn't notice when Billy put his newly sharpened axe to use it was with an unnecessary amount of violence.

However, she did notice when she returned that the completed deck of cards was stacked neatly on top of the trunk, those she had neglected to finish inscribed in a careful, precise hand.

Historical note: Apparently, Sarah and Woodes actually had four children before their separation, however for the sake of the story I eliminated them all as I didn't think she would have left her children to go chasing after her husband. Also, I am not sure he was as indifferent as I have suggested, given that three of their children were born between 1706 and 1708.