The next morning, Lisbet sat at the l-o-n-g breakfast table, clad in the skimpy crimson dress Reaver insisted she wore.

She picked at her plate of fruit, spearing strawberries moodily, all-too-aware of the fact that the pirate king was staring at her with a wry grin from across the table.

He raised a magnificent golden goblet of wine to his lips and watched her curiously as she played with her food, despite the fact that her mother would've slaughtered her if she'd seen.

"You are a curious little thing, aren't you?" he purred, smirking at the filthy glare she shot at him, as if he'd murdered her kitten.

It was such an unflattering expression for such a youthful face, Reaver noted to himself. And she did have a youthful face. He enjoyed the slight splash of colour across her cheekbones. Ah, she reminded him of why he loved living near Bowerstone. There were so many delightful rich beauties, ready for the taking, all too willing to be ravished by him. It was quite the treat, truly, this smorgasbord of women.

But this woman was different. She hadn't thrown herself at him, for one, begging for his body. In fact, if he remembered correctly, she's threatened to…what was it…ah yes, she'd threatened to 'rip off your danglers with my bare hands' if he dared to sneak into her room. He'd been extremely tempted, but in the end he valued his…royal jewels, shall we say, too much. He hadn't been near a woman that feisty since…

The pirate prince shook his head, trying to dislodge the memories of the old Queen.

"Shut up."

Reaver smirked at her sharp and cutting response. Oh…pursuing her was going to be a treat.

The deviant rose from the table suddenly, hand reaching for his trusty ebony cane. He tapped it once, twice, three times on the floor.

"You know my dear, I think we might go to Samarkand," he announced, rather surprising both Lisbet and himself.

Lisbet cocked her head to one side, brow furrowing. She'd never been to Samarkand. She'd heard the tales, of course, but never actually visited. She'd never been out of Albion, come to mention it. She wondered why.

"Samarkand? Why Samarkand? And why now?"

Reaver literally danced around the room all of a sudden, waltzing with an invisible partner, for no particular reason other than he could. When Lisbet approached to see if he was feeling alright, he caught hold of her and started waltzing, ignoring her protestations. Hand on her waist, Lisbet could feel his hips pressed against hers and she blushed at the feeling of what she hoped was his cane.

"You need to be lighter on your feet, moineau. You dance well, but your shyness gets in the way. If you could just loosen up…" he breathed seductively into her ear, ticking her neck.

To accompany his words, Reaver pressed his body as close to hers as possible, still dancing and spinning around the room.

Lisbet felt her cheeks going red at the feel of him pressed so intimately against her. Her breasts were crushed against his chest and it took all of his willpower not to throw her down and ravish her right there. Because…in all honesty, Reaver thought that waiting heightened the pleasure.

"Ah…Reaver…please…" Lisbet muttered without any real enthusiasm, as she liked the feel of him so close to her more than she wanted to admit.

"What is it, dear? Tell Reaver," he whispered into her neck, lips burning into her skin hotly.

Despite herself, Lisbet titled back her head slightly, giving him more access. In all honesty, she had no idea what she was doing. She was a virgin and didn't normally go around throwing herself at men! But what was it about the man that she found…so irresistible?

"Master Reaver! Master Reaver! I-oh!"

Lisbet wrenched her body away from Reaver's breathlessly, blushing painfully when she realized what the servant must think.

Reaver smoothed down his wavy fringe rather obsessively, as was his wont, before smiling warmly at the young servant girl…who Lisbet didn't failed to note was very pretty. And wearing a skimpy maids outfit.

She, regretfully, felt the prickly fist of jealousy unfurl in her stomach at the way Reaver smiled at the girl. What was she thinking? She was Lady Lisbet Whitehart, renowned but not falling for any suitor her mother pushed her way. She was cold and sharp, the Ice Princess. And yes she was melting over him?

"He's stupid," she said allowed, more to herself than to anyone, to which Reaver shot her a alarmed look and a perfectly raised eyebrow.

"I've got the sleeping drug you got for-"

"Now now, Marissa,. No need to utter those words, my sweet, " Reaver said hurriedly, jumping forward to clamp a gloved hand over her mouth.

He threw a slightly sheepish smile over one shoulder at Lisbet who was trembling in fury as his words sunk in.

She marched across the room towards the grinning libertine and squared her shoulders, not caring that he towered over her and she had to crane her neck to look up at him.

"You were going to drug me into going to Samarkand with you, weren't you?" she demanded, cheeks flushing with anger, as they always did.

Reaver beamed whilst tapping his cane on the ground. He liked Lady Rebel. She was refreshing. A rose amidst the brambles.

"Ah, yes. That's why I was going to drug you. Because…Samarkand. Yes. That's it."

He waited till she realized what he'd really wanted to drug her for and when she didn, her face exploded into a beautiful, adorable crimson shade.

"You sinful, amoral, son of a bitch!" she cried before slapping Reaver right across the face with a resounding clap!

Not bothering to glance back, Lisbet stormed from the room, stopping only to retrieve Love and Hate.

She was at the front door, struggling to pull open the weighty thing when he came slithering back.

He hesitated closely beside her and said nothing as he watched her heave with the door, getting more and more frustrated when it refused to open.

Eventually, Lisbet took a step back before leaping at the door and landing two extremely powerful kicks upon it.

It opened with a satisfying creak and with a smug nod, Lisbet pulled it open further and stepped out into the warm sunlight.

"Lisbet…" Lisbet, regardless of her anger at him, paused, sighed, and turned slightly.

"What is it, Reaver? You can't expect me to stay, after learning what you planned to do to me."

Reaver, quick-thinking Reaver, lowered his eyes solemnly to the ground.

"I know. I know. I…I'm so sorry…may you forgive me? Please, I would sell my soul," he crossed his fingers. "if you'd just trust me again. Please?"

Inside he was shouting 'bravo!' and 'well done!' and 'splendid performance!' to himself as his acting.

Lisbet searched his face for any sign that he was faking, but she could find none. The man either was utmost sincere…or he was a damn good actor.

"Fine. You shall have a second chance. But only because I know that you will betray the rebels, as you call them, to Logan if I don't."

Reaver stepped aside and she reluctantly reentered the Mansion, grimacing when Reaver's hand snaked around her waist.

She elbowed his sharply in the ribs.

"I have only one rule; no touching."

Reaver smiled and planted his lips softly against the soft skin of her neck. She really was quite addictive.

And the oddest thing.

"But then what would be the point of being my houseguest, hmm?"

"Let's just move on."

"To Samarkand, then!"

Reaver tapped his cane before disappearing to pack his belongings, leaving Lisbet to wonder just what in Avo's name she had done to deserve being stuck with him.

"What have I got myself into?" she said quietly to herself.

"Oh, and Lisbet, don't forget to pack your lacy underwear, you look good enough to eat in it," Reaver called from upstairs.

Oh, boy.