Victoire located her uncle who was hunched over his ale at a round table in the center of the establishment.

She made her way through the throng of customers to get to him. She thought she would use shame and reason to get Aunt Mei's ring back. Yet when she actually saw the silver band on his finger, her mind emptied of all reasonable ploys. There was a full pitcher of dark ale on the table. Before she could contain herself she lifted the pitcher and emptied the contents over her uncle's balding head.

He was too far gone from drink to react swiftly. He let out a loud bellow, interrupted himself with a rank belch, and then staggered to his feet. Victoire had worked the wedding band off his finger before his mind had cleared sufficiently to ward her off.

It took him a long while to focus on her properly. She slipped the ring on her own finger while she waited.

"Victoire? What are you doing here? Is something amiss?" Uncle Remy stammered out his questions in a bluster. The effort cost him what little strength he had left. He slumped back down in his chair and squinted up at her with bloodshot eyes. He noticed the empty pitcher. "Where the hell's my ale?" He shouted to the barkeep.

Victoire was thoroughly disgusted with her uncle. Even though she doubted he'd remember a single word of her lecture, she was determined to give him a healthy dose of her mind.

"Is something amiss?" She repeated his question in a derisive tone. "You are despicable, Uncle Remy. If my father knew what you and his other brothers were doing to Mei, I'm certain he'd call the authorities and have you all carted off."

"What say you?" Remy asked. He rubbed his forehead while he tried to concentrate on the conversation. "Mei? You're ranting at me because of that good-for-nothing woman?"

Before Victoire could chastise him for making that shameful remark he blurted out, "Your father was in on the plan from the very beginning. She's too old to take care of herself. We know what's best for her. Don't try throwing a tantrum with me, little girl, for I'm not going to tell you where she is."

"You do not know what's best for her," Victoire shouted. "You wanted her inheritance, and that's the damn truth. Everyone in Europe knows about your gaming debts, Uncle. You found an easy way to pay them off, didn't you? You were set to lock Mei away in an asylum, weren't you?"

Remy's gaze darted back and forth between the empty pitcher and his niece's outraged expression. It finally dawned on him that she had poured his ale over his head. He touched his collar just to be sure, and when he felt the sticky wetness there he became livid. His own anger made his head start pounding. He was in desperate need of another drink. "We are going to put that bitch away, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. Now get on home before I blister your ass."

A snicker sounded behind her. Victoire turned around to glare at the customer. "Drink your refreshment, sir, and stay out of this." She whirled back to her uncle only after the stranger turned his gaze to his goblet. "You're lying about my father," She stated. "He would never take part in such cruelty. As for striking me, do so and suffer my husband's wrath. I'll tell him." She threatened with a firm nod.

Remy didn't look at all intimidated. He let out a loud snort. "You're as crazed as Mei if you believe a Kaiba would ever come to your defense. Why, I could beat you bloody, little girl, and no one would give a notice, least of all your piece of shit husband."

Victoire was so incensed with her uncle, she didn't notice that some of the customers were slowly edging their way toward her. Seto certainly noticed. One man he judged to be the leader of the pack actually licked his lips in apparent anticipation of the morsel he thought he would soon get to devour.

She suddenly realized the futility of her plan. "Do you know, Uncle Remy, I've been trying to find a way to get you to promise to leave Mei alone, but I now realize my own foolishness. Only an honorable man would keep his promise. You're too much of a swine to keep your word. I'm wasting my time here."

Her uncle drew back to punch her. Victoire easily dodged him. She stopped backing away when she bumped into something quite solid, turned around, and found herself surrounded by several disreputable-looking men. All of them, she immediately noticed, were in desperate need of a bath.

Everyone was so mesmerized by the beautiful lady they never noticed Seto. He thought they might be too consumed with lust to think about caution. In time they would realize that error, of course. He leaned back against the closed door in the corner and waited for the first provocation.

It came with lightning speed. When the pack leader grabbed hold of his bride's arm, Seto let out a roar of outrage. The sound was deep, guttural, deafening. Effective, too. Everyone in the tavern froze—everyone but her. She jumped a good foot, then whirled around toward the sound.

She would have screamed if her throat hadn't closed up on her. In truth, she was having difficulty catching her breath. Her knees buckled when she spotted the source of the sound standing in front of the door. Victoire grabbed hold of the table to keep herself from falling down. Her heart was slamming inside her chest, and she was certain she was about to die of sheer fright.

He motioned to her with the crook of his finger.

She shook her head.

He nodded.

The room began to spin. She realized then that someone was clutching her arm. Without taking her gaze away from the man trying to stare her into a faint, she slapped the hand away.

His blue eyes were familiar. There was a resemblance, a reminder of the boy that used to chase after her—something instinctual that told Victoire that this was Seto, her childhood best friend. He was much taller than when she last laid eyes on him—easily towering over her—and she struggled to connect the two versions of him. He was dressed in a dark teal long sleeved button shirt with an extended collar, matching pants, and black shoes.

The outfit put emphasis to his height.

"Mon amour," Seto said, crooking his finger at her again. Victoire's eyes went wide at the new address. "Come to me." His voice was deep and commanding, leaving no room to argue. She started walking toward him.

And then all hell broke loose. The sound of the whip cracking in the air, the scream of pain from the fool who tried to touch her as she moved past him echoed in Victoire's ears. She never looked toward the commotion. Her gaze was locked on her childhood best friend who was methodically destroying the tavern.

He made it look so easy. A simple flip of his wrist that didn't seem to cost him the least amount of effort made such a lasting impression on his audience.

She also noticed that the closer she got to him, the deeper his scowl became. But, at the same time, Victoire didn't feel threatened by his scowl. She realized she'd stopped to stare at him again when he motioned for her to move. She felt a restraining hand on her shoulder, glanced down at it, then heard the crack of the whip.

She was suddenly in full flight. She ran to him, determined to get there before her heart completely failed her.

Victoire came to a swaying stop directly in front of him, tilted her head back, and stared up at those piercing blue eyes until he finally looked down at her. On impulse she reached out and flattened her palm against his chest just to make certain he really wasn't a figment of her imagination.

He was there, all right.

Victoire smiled with acute relief. Seto raised an eyebrow in reaction. "I knew it was you, mon meilleur ami." She felt suddenly weightless.

Seto caught her before she hit the floor. His bride was in a full faint when he tossed her over his shoulder. He scanned the tavern for any leftovers he might have missed. There were bodies all over the hardwood floor. That wasn't good enough, he thought. He was going to unleash his wrath on the bastard uncle who was cowering under the table. He could hear the choked sobs coming from the man.

He kicked the table across the room in order to see his prey. "Do you know who I am, Delacour?"

Remy was locked in fetal position. When he shook his head, his jowls rubbed back and forth against the floorboards.

"Look at me, you bastard." His voice sounded like thunder.

Remy looked up. The look on the younger man's face was chilling. He looked ready to commit murder, which didn't bode well for Remy.

When Seto opened his mouth to speak, each and every word felt like a bucket of ice being poured down Remy's back. "My name is Seto Kaiba, and you've made four mistakes, Delacour. Your first mistake was putting your hands on that old woman. The second was threatening to do the same to my wife; the third was attempting to follow through with that threat; and your fourth and most fatal mistake was thinking I wouldn't care enough to retaliate."

Remy's gaze went back and forth between the whip and the wrathful expression on Seto's face. His face went pale. "No, no, no.. wait—"

The sound of the whip cracking in the air cut off Remy's rambling, and before the older man could say anything more, the tip of the whip came down on the center of his back and left a gash where it hit. Over a dozen lashes followed the first, hitting his shoulders, the back, lower back, and both arms. The tavern air was filled with the sounds of a whip cracking and Remy Delacour shrieking.

By the time Seto got finished with him, Remy had received seventeen lashes in total. The entirety of his back and the back of his arms were absolutely covered in lacerations; some were made in criss-cross patterns.

The barkeep peeked out from his hiding place behind the grill and looked at the devastation around him. There wouldn't be any more alcohol purchased that dark night, for not a single one of his customers was in any condition to drink. They covered his floor like discarded peanut shells. It was a sight he wouldn't soon forget. He wanted to remember every single detail so he could relate the happening to his friends.

He already knew how he was going to tell the ending, too. The Delacour dandy shrieking like an infant as he got whipped within an inch of his life would provide a good, hearty laugh for his future customers. The sound of gagging pulled the barkeep from his musings. The once high and mighty Delacour was puking all over his floor.

The tavern owner's shout of anger mingled with Aunt Mei's gasp of fear. When she saw her niece draped over the stranger's shoulder her hand flew to her mouth. "Is Tori hurt?" She cried out. Her mind was already picturing the worst.

Seto shook his head. He opened the door of the taxi, then paused to grin at the old woman. "She fainted."

Mei was too relieved at that news to take exception to the fact that the man was amused over her niece's condition. She moved over to make room for Victoire. Seto placed his bride on the opposite seat, however. Mei gave her niece a quick once-over to make certain she was still breathing, then turned to look at their savior again. She watched him recoil the whip and hook it to his belt.

Sofia hadn't expected him to join them inside the vehicle. When he did so she squeezed herself into the far corner. "Tori can sit next to me," She offered.

He didn't bother to answer her. He did, however, take up the space across from her. Then he lifted Victoire onto his lap. Mei noticed how very gentle he was when he touched her niece. His hand lingered on the side of Victoire's cheek when he pressed her face into the crook of his neck.

She let out a little sigh.

Mei didn't know what to make of the man. The taxi was in full motion before she tried to engage him in conversation. "Young man, my name's Mei Inoue. The young lady you just saved is my niece. Her name is Victoire Delacour."

"No," He corrected her in a hard voice. "Her name is Victoire Kaiba." After making that emphatic statement he turned his gaze to the window.

Mei continued to stare at him. The young man had a nice, strong profile and sharp blue eyes. "Why are you helping us?" She asked. "You won't convince me you're in the employ of the Delacour family," She added with a firm nod. "Did somebody from the Kaiba family hire you to help us?"

He didn't answer her. Mei let out a sigh before turning her attention to her niece. She wished Victoire would hurry up and finish with her swoon so she could sort out the confusion.

"I've come to depend upon the child you're cradling in your arms, sir. I cannot abide the thought of anything ill happening to her."

"She isn't a child," He contradicted.

Mei smiled. "No, but I still consider her such," She admitted. "My Tori is such an innocent, trusting soul. She takes after her mother's side of the family."

"You're not a Delacour, are you?"

Mei was so pleased that he was finally conversing with her, she smiled again. "No," She answered. "I'm her aunt on her mother's side. I was a Nonoka before I married my Kaito and took his name."

She glanced over to look at Victoire again. "I don't believe she's ever fainted before. Of course, the last two weeks must have been a terrible strain on her. There are shadows under her eyes. She obviously hasn't been sleeping well. The worry about me, you see," She added with a wheeze. "Still, she must have seen something quite shocking to make her faint. What do you suppose…"

She quit her speculation when she heard him chuckle. The man was certainly on the peculiar side, for he found humor over the oddest remarks.

And then he explained himself. "She saw me."

Victoire started to stir. She felt dizzy still, disoriented, yet wonderfully warm. She rubbed her nose against the heat, inhaled the clean, masculine scent, and let out a sigh of contentment.

"I do believe she's coming around," Mei whispered. "Thank goodness."

Victoire slowly turned her gaze to her aunt. "Coming around?" She asked with an unladylike yawn.

"You fainted, dear."

"I didn't," She whispered, clearly appalled. "I never faint. I…" She stopped her explanation when she realized she was sitting on someone's lap. Not someone, she realized. His—Seto's—lap. The color drained from her face. Her memory was fully restored.

Mei reached over to pat her hand. "It's all right, honey. This kind young man saved you."

"Seto saved me?" Victoire whispered.

Mei nodded. "Well, he never introduced himself to me, but I'm going to assume you mean this young man here. You must show your appreciation, and whatever you do, Victoire, don't faint again."

Victoire nodded. "I won't faint again," She promised. To insure that promise she decided she'd better not look up at him again. She tried to move off his lap without him noticing, but as soon as she started to scoot away he increased his grip around her waist. She braced herself before she slowly turned to look at his face. She deliberately stared at his chin when she said, "Thank you, Seto, for coming to my defense inside the tavern. I am in your debt."

Seto nudged her chin up with his thumb. His gaze was unreadable. "You owe me more than just gratitude, Tori."

"I don't have any coins left," She said then. "I used all I had on me to book passage for our journey. Are you taking us to the harbor?"

He nodded.

"I do have a gold chain. Will that be payment enough?"

"No."

The abruptness in his answer irritated her. She gave him a disgruntled look for being so rude. "But I don't have anything more to offer you," She announced.

The taxi came to a stop. Seto opened the door. He moved with incredible speed for someone of his height. He was outside the vehicle and assisting Mei to the ground before Victoire had straightened her skirt. He had left her in the back of the taxi.

His arms were suddenly around her waist again. Victoire had only enough time to grab her satchel before she was hauled out of the taxi. Seto put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her up against his side. She immediately protested. "Seto, you don't have to keep holding me. I am more than capable of standing on my own."

He didn't even glance down at her. She was about to try again when he let out a piercing whistle. The moonlit area had been completely deserted until that moment. Within a blink of an eye she found herself completely surrounded by men.

Seto's loyal crew stared at Victoire. They acted as though they'd never seen a pretty woman before. He looked down at his bride to see how she was reacting to their stares of obvious adoration. Victoire wasn't paying any attention to the men, though. She was occupied staring up at him. He smiled in reaction.

He gave her a quick squeeze to get her to quit her show of insolence, then turned his attention to the older woman. "Do you have any baggage?"

"Do we, Victoire?" Mei asked.

Victoire tried to shove herself away from her anchor before answering. "I told you I can stand on my own," She muttered. "Now unhand me."

Seto didn't budge. She gave up. "Yes, Mei, we do have baggage. Mother gave me some of her clothes for you to wear. Pierre stored the bags at the Louis Vuitton storefront. Shall we go and claim them?"

Victoire tried to take a step forward and found herself hauled up against his side again.

Seto found his man José in the back of the crowd and motioned to him. A tall, olive-skinned man walked over to stand in front of Victoire. Her eyes widened at the sight of the near-giant. She stared at him the longest minute. José must have felt her stare on him, for he suddenly turned his full attention on her. He folded his massive arms across his chest and gave her a good scowl.

She scowled back.

A sudden sparkle appeared in his midnight-dark eyes, and José gifted her with a full smile. She didn't know what to make of that strange behavior.

"Have two men see to the baggage, José," Seto ordered. "We'll board Kaiser at first light."

Victoire couldn't help but notice that Seto had included himself in her plans. "My aunt and I will be perfectly safe now," She said. "These men seem to be pleasant enough, Seto. We've wasted enough of your valuable time."

Seto continued to ignore her. He motioned to another man with fiery red hair. When a thick-muscled older man came forward, he nodded to Mei. "Take care of the old woman, Emmett."

Mei let out a gasp. Victoire thought it was because they were about to be separated from each other. Yet before she could argue with their unexpected protector Mei straightened her shoulders and slowly walked over to the Seto. "I'm not an old woman, boy, and I take grave exception to such an insult. I'm only one year past fifty, young man, and feeling as spry as can be."

Seto's eyes widen a fraction, but he made sure to keep his smile and chuckle contained. A strong gust of wind would topple the old woman, as frail as she appeared to him to be, yet she had the tone of voice of a commander.

"You need to apologize to my aunt," Victoire said. She turned back to her aunt before he had time to react to that statement. "I'm certain he didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Aunt Mei. He's just being rude."

Seto shook his head. The conversation was ridiculous to him. "Emmett, move," He ordered in a clipped voice.

Mei turned to the man hovering by her side. "And just where do you think you're taking me?"

In answer, Emmett lifted Mei into his arms.

"Put me down, you rascal."

"It's all right, lovey," Emmett replied in a heavy Scottish accent. "You look a might peaked. You don't weigh more than a feather to me."

Mei was about to protest again. His next question gave her pause. "Where did you get those bruises? Give me the name of the bloody infidel responsible, and I'll be more than happy to slit his throat for you."

Mei smiled at the man holding her. She judged his age to be near her own and had also noticed what a fit man he appeared to be. She hadn't blushed in years, yet she knew from the sudden heat in her cheeks that she was certainly blushing at that moment. "Thank you, sir," she stammered out as she patted the bun back into place on top of her head. "I just might take you up on that kind offer."

Victoire was astonished by her aunt's behavior. Why, she was fluttering her eyelashes and acting like a flirt at her first dance! She watched the pair until they were out of sight, then noticed that the crowd of men had also vanished. She was all alone with her savior.

"Is my Aunt Mei safe with that man?" She demanded to know.

"Yes," He finally answered with a sigh when she poked him in his ribs.

"Please let me go."

He actually did as she asked. Victoire was so surprised that she nearly lost her balance. She turned until she was standing face-to-shoulders in front of him. The tips of her flats touched the tips of his shoes. "It's been so long since we last saw each other, I almost didn't recognize you, Seto."

"I know." He found her awkwardness around him to be amusing. Seto grinned. "I almost didn't recognize you, either, Tori."

"Are you planning to sail with Mei and me? Why do you keep staring at me like that?"

Seto ignored her first question and answered her second one. He was more than pleased by what she'd shown him earlier—even though he's still going to lecture her on safety once they were on board, and in the privacy of his cabin. Her earlier actions made him remember the little firecracker he grew up with. Victoire wasn't a little girl any longer, though. She grew up quite nicely, too. She was, however, still a bit of a firecracker.

He grinned. "You still owe me."

"Are you seriously going to jump on that issue again?"

Seto's slow nod infuriated her. He was thoroughly enjoying himself. When Victoire realized that fact, her bluster of indignation evaporated.

"Oh, alright," She agreed. "I owe you. We are in complete agreement. Now, please, tell me exactly what it is you think I owe you, and I will make payment."

"You honestly want to know what I want?"

At Victoire's slow nod, Seto gave in to his sudden urge. Before she could back away from him, he grabbed hold of her shoulders.

He pulled her up against his chest, then threaded one hand through her ponytail. Her hair felt like silk to him. He made a fist in her hair, then jerked her head back so her face was tilted up toward him. He told himself that it was only for his own peace of mind that he was going to kiss Victoire, knowing full well that once he told her what he wanted, she'd either start screaming or faint again.

"What I want from you is very simple." Seto told her. His mouth was getting closer to hers. "What I want... is a wedding night." Seto's mouth settled on top of hers just in time to capture her gasp.

Victoire was simply too stunned to react at first. Seto's mouth was hard, hot, incredibly demanding. He was drowning her with his warmth, his taste, and his wonderful masculine scent.

Seto wanted her response. She didn't disappoint him. When his tongue moved inside her mouth to mate with hers, her knees went weak. She put her arms around his neck and clung to him even as she tried to wiggle out of his embrace. Victoire didn't realize she was kissing him back, didn't know the sounds she heard belonged to her.

Only when Seto had her full cooperation did he gentle the kiss. Damn, she was soft. And responsive. He could feel the heat inside her, and wanted to get closer, so much closer. His hands moved to squeeze her ass, and he slowly lifted her off the ground until her pelvis was touching his own, then pulled her tight against his arousal. His mouth slanted over hers again and again. He wanted to be inside her. Seto knew he was close to losing all sense of discipline. His hunger was demanding to be appeased.

The sound of a child's cheeky giggling penetrated his mind then.