XIII.

Billy stood up, pulling on his breeches with a savage tug. He leaned against the wall, the light from the candle revealing the thin sheen of sweat on his torso.

"I don't like this," he muttered. "You seeing Flint by yourself. You don't know what he's capable of."

Meg sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. The blissful afterglow that had warmed her entire body had evaporated the moment Silver had banged on the door. She stilled, trying to focus on calming the knot of panic that was growing in her stomach.

Billy came over to her, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. "I don't like the idea of the rest of the crew seeing you half dressed." His voice caught, and he picked up his shirt, draping it protectively around her shoulders.

"I'll be careful, Billy."

"Meg.." he touched his forehead to hers, his thumb caressing her cheek. "I don't do this sort of thing...well, I mean, I have-but what I'm trying to say is that I don't take what happened here, between us, lightly."

Meg flushed and stared down at the floor, wishing it could swallow her up. "I'm not so naive as to think you've never been with a woman before. You're under no obligation to me. It just has been so long since anyone has held me, and I...I wanted you. God help me, but when you kissed me, I.." Her voice trailed off as she struggled for words.

"You're not just a diversion for me, Meg," he said softly. He pressed his lips to her forehead, and she closed her eyes.

A knock came on the door once again.

Billy muttered something under his breath, and reluctantly pulled away from her. "Stay here for a moment." He went to the door, a limp noticeable in his gait. Opening the door, he glared down at Silver. "I need a word." Stepping outside, he closed the door firmly behind him.

The sky was still dark, the cloud cover heavy. The sea was restless, the waves choppier than usual.

"I really should be getting on," murmured Silver, his hands toying with a small pewter flask. His eyes darted down the deck towards Flint's cabin. "The Captain-"

"Fuck the Captain!" growled Billy, grasping Silver's shirt and shoving him against the wall. "What's he up to? Because I know he's not summoning Meg just to chat."

Silver raised his hands, his blue eyes wide. "To be honest, Billy, I haven't a clue. You know how he is."

Billy narrowed his eyes. "Really? I find that hard to believe. Because ever since you set foot on this ship, your main goal seems to have been to worm your way into his confidence."

Silver laughed uneasily. "I think 'confidence' is a bit of an overstatement."

Billy tightened his grip on Silver's shirt. "If anything happens to Meg-anything at all-I'll hold you personally responsible. Understand?"

Silver nodded hastily, and Billy released him with a scowl.

The erstwhile cook flashed a nervous smile. "I really don't think you have anything to worry about." He suddenly looked down at the flask in his hand." Oh, by the way, Joji asked me to pass this on to you." He handed it over. "He said it's the good stuff-said you might need it to keep your strength up….after the delivery earlier were his words. He said you'd know what he meant."

Billy kept his face impassive as he unscrewed the flask and took a swig of the smooth whisky that Joji knew he favored.

"Tell him I'm on to him….just like I'm on to you."

Silver shifted, his gaze sliding again to the Captain's quarters. "I really should be going."

"I'll get Meg." The boatswain stepped to the door, then turned, his blue eyes icy. "Remember, it's to your benefit to make sure she comes back to me safe and sound."

"Understood," Silver murmured.

When Billy returned to the cabin, he found Meg sitting on the bed. Her eyes were closed, hands clasped tightly in her lap.

"It's time," he said softly.

Meg opened her eyes, then stood up. Her feet were bare, and her dark hair fell loose around her shoulders. To Billy, she looked younger and more vulnerable than he ever remembered seeing her.

He gave her an encouraging smile. "You should know that no one has ever had a negative first experience in Flint's office."

"Never?" Her voice registered her doubts.

"Can't name one. If he wants to call you out, he'll do it in front of the crew."

She bit her lip, and looked away. "Perhaps he has a different approach with women. I doubt you've ever seen a female called on the carpet."

He stepped closer, and took her in his arms, burying his face in her hair. "Flint won't hurt you. I promise you that much," he murmured. "It's not his way."

"No, he'll just intimidate me," she said, her voice muffled against his chest. "But that, I have experience with."

He drew back, taking her face in his hands. "You're more than a match for him, sweetheart. Remember that time you caught Hugh Marsdale teasing your auntie's cat?"

Her mouth curved into a hint of a smile. "That was one of my finer moments."

He laughed softly. "You must have been all of ten years old, and him a head taller than you-but you gave him such a dressing-down that Pauline Allan came outside and-"

"I forgot how he was always so sweet on her!" Her grey eyes lit up. "He followed her around like a puppy."

"A puppy that got put in the doghouse once she heard how mean he'd been to that cat." Billy's eyes crinkled in amusement. "You were always a feisty one, Margaret Rose. I couldn't help but notice you."

Her cheeks flushed. "I wasn't trying to get your attention."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not even once?"

"I-I never thought you'd see me as anything but your little sister's friend."

"No matter what I thought then," he said, his voice husky, "that is definitely not how I think of you now."

Before she could answer, his mouth was on hers, drawing her into a hard, passionate kiss that left her breathless. His hands moved to cup her bottom, reveling in the feel of her soft flesh under his fingers. Her own body responded reflexively, hips grinding against his legs. Just as their breathing began to quicken, Silver banged on the door again.

"Every goddamn time…" Billy muttered. "It's like he's got a f-"

"Shh…" Meg whispered, placing a finger on his lips.

He growled deep in his throat, scowling at the door. Then he took in a deep breath, his eyes warming as they returned to hers. Kissing her forehead, he smiled, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "Take care of Flint and get back to me as quick as you can. I've got some ideas for our next lesson."

A few moments later, Meg stepped out of the cabin into the cool night air, a thin blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

"I'll be back before you know it," she said lightly, squeezing Billy's arm.

"I'll be waiting," he murmured, then watched her walk away.

Silver had lit a lantern, and the light lit their way as he guided her past coils of rope and barrels of pitch. Just before they disappeared into the darkness, she turned back and gave Billy one last smile.

The lantern cast a warm glow over Meg's body. Her face was delicately flushed, lips rosy from his kisses. The glossy dark hair tumbling around her shoulders was still in disarray from his roaming hands. But it was her luminous grey eyes that took Billy's breath away. They shone with yearning-no, desire. It filled him with an indescribable joy. He watched until he could see them no more, then retreated back into the cabin.

He drank deeply from the flask, envisioning her dreamy expression once again. Then a thought occurred to him, and his heart sank.

If I can see it, so will Flint. He'll know the second she walks in the door.

xxx

When Meg entered the Captain's quarters, she saw Flint sitting at his large mahogany desk. He looked up from a document he was reading, fixing his keen eyes on her for a long moment. Then he motioned for her to sit on the wooden chair in front of him, and returned to scanning the paper in front of him.

The desk was of simple construction, and was securely bolted to the floor in order to keep it from moving when the seas were rough. A small box sat at left hand corner, the polished wood and brass trim glowing in the candlelight. Next to it, a battered spyglass stood neatly telescoped, the mark of its manufacturer worn from years of use.

Flint finally finished, and rolled up the paper, neatly tying it with a frayed red ribbon. Settling back in his ornately carved chair, he gave her a penetrating look.

Meg shifted in her chair, struggling to maintain an outward appearance of calm. She forced herself to meet his gaze, and saw his mouth curve into a predatory smile.

"So, you've been confined to quarters with Billy. Have you had any luck bringing him back to God?" His eyes traveled down her body, the thin chemise exposing her legs below her knees. "It does appear as though you are using some unorthodox methods. But then again, after a stretch of self-imposed celibacy, Billy is known to become rather single-minded in his pursuit of pleasure."

"I beg your pardon?" Meg gave him an cool glance.

Flint shrugged. "I'm not judging you. Merely making an observation."

"You, Captain, are far from being in a position to judge anyone."

"Really?" Flint stood up, strolling around the desk. Coming to a halt behind her, he placed his hands on the arms of the chair, then leaned over her, his mouth close to her ear. When he spoke, his voice was low, the tone menacing. "Because I think I have the measure of you, Miss Davies. And you will do exactly as I instruct you, or I will make very sure that you never see Billy again."

xxx

The small dinghy scraped against the soft sand, the dull thud shaking Meg from her thoughts. She blinked, glancing at the horizon. The pale pink flush of dawn was just visible at the cusp of the horizon.

"We're here." The fat, middle-aged man lumbered out of the boat, sniffing at the air. He glanced at the hollow-eyed youth that sat in the stern, then jerked his thumb at Meg, motioning for her to get out of the boat. "You're on your own now, missy."

Meg waited for a moment, then realized he was not about to offer to assist her. With one hand on the gunwale, she cautiously made her way to the stern. Gathering her skirts into one hand, she stepped out. Her shoes sank into the wet sand, and she grimaced.

The man chortled with laughter, his large belly shaking. Then he coughed and spat, aiming a stream of tobacco juice at Meg's skirts.

She gave him an indignant look, and he guffawed in response. "Just addin' a realistic touch to your dress. After all, you've spent the last couple of days in the presence of uncouth pirates, aye?"

"Many of those men were more civilized than you, sir!" She shook out her skirts and tried to pull her foot out of the sand. It sunk further, and she redoubled her efforts. Finally, a soft sucking sound was heard, and her shoe shot out of the sand with a loud pop. Losing her balance, she fell headlong onto the sand, twisting her ankle in the process.

The stab of pain that jolted up her leg brought tears to her eyes, but Meg forced herself to her feet. She ignored the jeers directed at her from the dinghy, which was rapidly pulling away from the shore. Her eyes searched the lush vegetation, looking for the path that led to Nelson Hall. Finally, she spotted the two stately palms that marked the track. Taking a deep breath, she limped across the expanse of sand, then began to thread her way along the winding path that led to the stately mansion.

As she walked, the morning dew dripped from the leaves of the tropical plants, stray drops cooling her heated skin. Bright tropical flowers were opening to the first rays of the sun, their petals fresh and unspoiled. Meg stopped for a moment, leaning against a palm tree to rest her ankle. She brushed lumps of wet sand off the skirt of the worn grey dress that Flint had ordered her to wear when she left the ship.

You wanted me to look the part, didn't you?

Closing her eyes, she imagined she was once again safe with Billy, his strong arms holding her securely against his body. A feeling of peace floated over her for an instant, and then her heart twisted in her chest.

What will he think when he reads the letter?

She shook her head in despair, the tears now falling freely.

I'm not cut out for this. Flint expects me to lie to people I care for-to manipulate them to serve his own ends. And I have no idea what his ultimate goal really is.

"Why am I doing this?" Flint had echoed her question, fixing her with a cold stare. "That is none of your damn business. But you should have strong motivation to finish your task quickly and quietly. After all, you've fallen hard for Billy, haven't you?" He laughed scornfully. "You never had a chance, did you? The virginal minister's daughter, in the hands of an experienced, handsome pirate. I bet you were the easiest conquest he's made in years."

Meg stood up, her eyes flashing. "How dare you! What makes you-"

The Captain seized her chin, his strong hand snapping her head up to meet his gaze. "I'm not stupid," he snarled. "When you walked in the room, I could practically smell Billy on you. So I suggest you shut up and follow my instructions to the letter. As I said, all you need to know is that I have the power to make Billy vanish from your life forever. And I can assure you if he were to disappear, you would not want to know the details of his fate."

As she skirted the edge of the sprawling lawn, the fragrant scent of plumeria blossoms drifted through the air. The delicate perfume should have defused some of the tension in her body. Instead, she felt her agitation increasing as the familiar smells and sounds of the island surrounded her.

She finally climbed the steps of the pristine white porch that ran along the front of the sprawling plantation house. Her ankle had swollen rapidly, and her shoe was now cutting into the bruised flesh. Leaning against the door for support, she pulled the rope that ran alongside it, and heard the deep tones of a bell within the great hall. There were hurried steps from within, and the door flung open, revealing the tall, thin frame of Mr. Andrews, the butler that had come with Tobias from England. The scowl on his face disappeared the instant he saw Meg, replaced by a look of astonishment.

"Who is it, Andrews?" called Tobias Nelson impatiently. "It's barely past the crack of dawn, for God's sake!" He shouldered his way past his butler, then stopped in his tracks as he took in the sight of his ward. The girl was absolutely filthy, and looked as if she would collapse with exhaustion at any moment. "Meg? Good Lord, what has happened to you?" He gently took her arm, guiding her into the hall.

She took in a shaky breath, then recited the lines she had rehearsed in Flint's cabin.

"It-it was horrible. I was taken against my will, and held hostage by Captain Flint." The room spun around her, and her vision began to dim. "It was only by the grace of God that I managed to escape. But something terrible is brewing, Tobias. You've got to stop them. No matter-"

Before she could finish, the darkness closed around her, and she knew no more.

Thank you for all the follows! Your reviews make my day, so if you have any comments/suggestions/things you'd like to see, feel free to let me know. I never know quite what's going to happen in the next chapter until I sit down to write it. Until next time!

Wren x