Lord Beckett was walking along the beach the very next morning. His back was stiff from sleeping on the couch the night before, trying to avoid his wife after the night they had shared. Why were women always so emotional?

As he was walking along the peaceful beach, waves crashing, he saw something laying there. It almost resembled a woman, only she was wearing men's clothes. Just then, her eyes fluttered open, and she pushed herself up, looking confused. He, trying to be a gentleman, walked over, helping her up.

"So," Beckett said, "are you new to Port Royal, Miss…"

"Jordan."

"Miss Jordan."

Jordan knew exactly who he was. He was Lord Cutler Beckett, sworn enemy of many a pirate. He had killed off many of them, yet Jordan was not afraid. She was no fool, either. She knew what he wanted to do; he wanted for her to admit that she was a pirate, so he could hang her by the neck until dead.

"I'm sort of new here. My father and I were escaping pirates over in the Gulf of Mexico. He and I instantly boarded a ship, and sailed here. Unfortunately, the ship was wrecked in a storm, taking my father down to the depths along with it," Jordan said, lying through her teeth. She managed to squeeze out a few crocodile tears to make her story more believable.

Beckett pretended to listen and feel sorry, but inside, he was laughing. He could tell she was lying. If there was a shipwreck anywhere between the Gulf of Mexico and Port Royal, he would have heard about it. 'A pirate if there ever was one,' he mentally said to himself. 'Lying straight through her teeth.'

"I'm very sorry about the loss Miss Jordan," He said, faking emotion. "I will help you get settled here in Port Royal. There's a lovely little house that I can buy for you, and give you the job as a maid in my office."

Jordan cringed at the though of wearing a dress. "You're really too kind, but I think I can manage on my own."

"No, no!" Beckett said. "I insist!" He knew that she was a pirate, but he wanted to see how long it would take her to admit it. That, and he needed a new maid.

Jordan thought for a moment. She liked the town, and wanted to stay there. But she would need that extra little shove to get a start here. "Okay," She said, giving in, walking along with Beckett.

"Great," Beckett said, deviously thinking. "I will take you to a few stores, and get you some dresses. And then you should be able to start the job right away."

"That's fine," Jordan said, watching her feet move. "But I do need to pick up some more, personal, items while we are in town."

Beckett, having a wife, knew what she was talking about. "That's fine. You can do that while they are picking out the dresses in your size."

"Great," She tried to say enthusiastically, sick of the lying.

Jordan and Beckett were now walking up the hill to Beckett's office, the dresses strewn across Jordan's fore-arm. The 'personal items' that Jordan had to pick up were a pair of thin mens pants that she had managed to steal while the owner of the store had his back turned. The pants were folded up in her coat pocket, and secretly planned on wearing them underneath her dresses.

"About my apartments, Lord Beckett?" Jordan asked.

"Ah yes," He said. "Until I can make sure it is said and done that you will have the house, you will live at my assistants, Mr. Mercers, house. Or, unless he has the guts to speak up against me."

As they walked into the spacious building, Jordan saw a man, leaning on a wall, engulfed by the shadows.

"Mr. Mercer," Beckett suddenly called out, going over to his desk, and started filling out papers, "please come here."

The man in the shadows looked up at hearing his name being called, and slunk over into the sunlight. "Mr. Mercer" Beckett said, not even looking up, "I would like you to meet Miss Jordan Preston. She will be filling in the position as maid here. And until I can ready her apartments, she will be staying at your house. Unless you have a problem with that," Beckett said, looking up with an 'I dare you' look in his eye.

Mercer looked over at the scruffy young lady standing next to him. Neither he nor she liked each other. She because of how clean and stiff he was; He because of how dirty and sleazy she looked. "It wouldn't be a problem, my lordship," Mercer said, faking a smile.

"That's good," Beckett said, "because you'll be in charge of making her more lady-like. And I'm sure my lovely wife and her friend would like to help."

"As you wish, sir," Mercer said, turning, and walking out. "Miss Jordan," He said, without turning around, "if you would follow me, I will show you to your rooms." Jordan, wanting to do some pirating, had no other choice but to follow him.

Lord Beckett was left alone in his office. He began looking through some death warrants that the king had sent to him. He turned to one, and sat, stock-still. How would Heather handle this?