No Apologies

Tom and I had ushered in our third year as man and wife with a wonderfully naughty Vermont getaway, and I was still somewhat afloat in its lingering haze when he called from location on the coast of Belgium with welcome news of wrapping work early.  The sun was high and the breeze was not too bitingly cold the afternoon he returned home, all long golden brown curls with a face full of matching scruff, so it wasn’t difficult to persuade him out for a drive.  We packed hamper and blanket away in the trunk of the Jag and quickly abandoned the main road, heading happily into the solitude and silence of majestic English woods.  I’d purchased a new lens for my old friend; I used it to snap photos of the adorably fat, scurrying squirrels chasing one another along branches that wept red and orange and yellow, and of Tom as he popped the cork on the Autumn’s Gold cider and spread the soft, plaid fleece over crisp grass.  Before long he was lounging in the middle, laughing and beckoning me close to sip from his glass and eat from his fingers.

He regaled me all afternoon with stories from the set, tales of how nice it was to do camera work with Kenneth again, how his co-star Amandla’s rescue mutt had become an unexpected scene-stealing extra, and how (just between him and me) performing his own stunts was becoming just ever-so-slightly more spill than thrill.  I giggled at that last, pushing his glasses up on his nose and reminding him that, in my eyes anyway, he was at least as good as he had ever been.  We reviewed my agenda for my own upcoming project, a series of panel discussions sponsored by the Women’s Studies department of NYU that I would participate in and chronicle for both the university and the associated press.  I was over the moon to have received the invitation, and as the event – one that would place me as bewildered peer alongside the likes of Steinham, Afshar, and Walker - drew nearer, I was more and more thankful to have Tom’s commanding, calming presence close by once again.

We grazed until the food was gone, drank until the bottle was dry, and Tom rose to offer me his hands, pulling me to my feet and tucking me under his arm.  The crunch of leaves beneath our boots and the feathery whistle of the wind set the perfect soundtrack for our ambling walk, the heat of his body keeping the chill of the settling evening at bay.  He pointed out the thrushes flitting to and fro to dress their winter nests, teased me when the clever vixen I spotted near a rotting oak darted into the underbrush before I could focus him or the Nikon on her brilliant blazing coat. 

There was no missing or mistaking the stag, however, his impressive eight points rising from his skull as he dipped his onyx nose to the chilly water of a calm, quiet pond.  Tom and I hovered just beyond the opposite shore until he’d made it clear our presence didn’t bother him in the slightest; in fact, he seemed primed and ready to pose when I lifted the camera with reverent care.  One clicks, two, then with a quiet nicker and a twitch of one ear, he returned his attention to the soft grass below his hooves, chewing amiably as Tom skipped stones across the pool’s glassy surface.

“It’s so unbelievably beautiful here,” I sighed, leaning against the moss-covered belly of a slate-colored boulder, snapping a shot of the darkening sky, tiny diamond drops of stars just starting to wink above the canopy of the trees.

“It is,” Tom agreed, his voice a bit thin, his wrist flipping efficiently so he could check his watch.  “Much as I adore the city, it’s nice to have such a refuge so close by.”

“I almost want to say we should build a house here someday,” I snapped another shot of waving branches shedding their leafy attire.  “But places like this deserve to stay untouched, don’t you think?  At least in any permanent way…”

“Mmm,” he nodded absently, glancing once more at the Emporio on his arm.  “Speaking of… we should probably head back to the car.”

“You don’t want to go just a little bit further?” I couldn’t help but sulk.  “I mean, who knows when we can sneak away like this again?”

“Little one,” his tone was deepening, taking on that velvety edge I loved so much, “it’s getting dark, and neither of us can afford to catch a bug with the schedules we have coming up.”

“Yeah, but it really isn’t that cold...” I was playing a dangerous game, letting a whine creep into my voice.  But the marks from my lovely leather anniversary gifts had all but faded away, and I was in the mood to dance the razor’s edge once more.  “Besides,” I slipped the camera from around my neck and placed it on the rock beside me before reaching for the buttons of my coat, “I’m betting we can find some very interesting ways to keep each other warm.”

“Lovely as that sounds,” he dropped his head, a brief stream of “eheheheheh” bubbling from his lips as he held out his hand, “I really think we should get going.”

“Tom,” I whinged playfully, shrugging the wool from my shoulders before using my forearms to push my cleavage more fully into the v-neck of my sweater.  “Sir… come play with me.”

“Michelle,” his face was drawn, a little pale as he removed his glasses, sliding them into the pocket of his jacket.  “Not here, love.”  The woods’ discarded wardrobe crunched beneath his feet as he took a few steps closer, his arm still extended in expectation.  “Come on.  Let me take you home.”

“I don’t want to go home,” I pouted my lip, backing away with a gleam in my eye.  “I want to play outside.”

“Michelle,” I watched him swallow with effort, feeling my brow furrow at the sight of the perspiration dotting his.  “This isn’t funny.  Come on… we’ve got to go.”

“What’s wrong with you?” I queried, sour and sullen.  “Today is supposed to be for fun…”

“Michelle…”

“Why are you acting this way all of a sudden?  Like it’s a bad thing that we’re out here?”

“Because, Michelle,” he swiped a hand over his damp upper lip, dragged his fingers through the scruff on his chin.  “It isn’t safe.”

“Are you nuts?” I threw my arms up in frustration.  “It’s only you and me, it’s safe as churches out here!  I mean… look… even our friend over there knows that…”  I swung my eyes to the east, only to have my words choke to silence in my throat.

The buck’s head had snapped upright and he was frozen statue still, black eyes wide in the growing dim.  His ears were perked as if listening for some distant call, and his limbs were taut with tension.  Slowly he began to paw the ground, and I watched steam rise from a snort of his nostrils.  A rustle of wind, the snap of a branch, and he was off with an urgent bolt, the kick of his muscular legs sending dirt and debris splashing across the water in his wake.

“What the…”

I turned my focus back to my husband, seeking reassurance, comfort; what I found was anything but.

“Tom?”

He’d doubled over as if in pain, his entire body shaking like the leaves we’d watched drift to the ground all day.  He stumbled back an awkward step, nearly fell, but kept his footing. 

“Tom!” I moved on instinct, darting forward as if to catch him.  But his arm shot out to keep me away, every vein and tendon on throbbing display in his clenched fist.

“Michelle…” weak, tremulous, terrified.  “Run.”

“Tom!” I could feel bile and tears competing for purchase in the back of my throat as my palm hovered above his hand.  Heat boiled off of him as if from a stovetop, and I could feel my knees beginning to quiver.  “Sweetie… my God… what’s the matter?”

The face that snapped up to glare at me was familiar and alien all at once, blazing blue eyes staring from beneath a brow that widened, broadened, above cheeks suddenly covered with thick golden brown hair.  Thin lips pulled back from teeth now long and sharp and shining, and the growl that emerged when they parted was anything but human.

“MICHELLE…I SAID… RUN!”

My hand flew to my mouth as my ankles tangled together, the air woofing out of my lungs in a harsh bark as I crashed to my tailbone in the dirt.  I could taste bright copper as my teeth clicked shut on my tongue and I could feel twigs and pine needles scraping my skin through the cashmere sleeves of my sweater as I scooted reflexively backward.  But all other sensation faded into the background, a biting knife of shock stabbing its way into my gut as I watched what was happening to the man I loved.

The seams of his clothes were swelling, splitting, the limbs that emerged obscenely muscled and covered with coarse, golden brown fur.  Broad and powerful padded paws burst the leather of his boots, his fingers lengthened, widened, thick claws of midnight black curled from his fingertips.  And as he threw his head back, as his long, handsome English face stretched into a menacing muzzle, a low, threatening howl in a voice not completely unfamiliar rose to meet the full orb of the moon now hovering in the darkness above.

“This…” I stammered, still scrambling back until I collided with the boulder behind me, “this is a joke… this is a dream… Tom… oh, Jesus, Tom…”

His head snapped around at the sound of his name, and my blood turned to ice in my veins as I watched the blue of his eyes all but vanish into bottomless pools of eerie onyx.  His long, lupine tongue dripped silver strands of saliva as he passed it slowly, deliberately over the ivory daggers of his incisors, and his shoulders hunched, taut with predatory tension as he crept forward a step, then another.

“This… is not… happening…” I rasped, slapping myself across one cheek.  A burning sting radiated through my face, a hollow ringing echoed in my ear, and still the creature in front of me advanced at a calm and cruelly measured pace.  My fingers scrabbled for purchase against the rock as I struggled to put myself back on my feet, my heart a hammer pounding in my chest.  “Tom?  Tom!  Jesus… are you even Tom anymore?”

A chill chattered down my spine as his muzzle curled in a vicious smirk, and I barely managed to scrape along the side of the boulder before pushing myself into a staggering run.  A savage snarl cut the air, and I didn’t have to look back to know that he was giving chase, ears back, sharp teeth snapping at my heels.

The wind picked up as I flew through the forest, bending bony fingers of tree branches to scratch at my face and snatch at my hair.  I was grateful at first for its frigid caress, the way it cooled my flushed and sweating skin as my arms and legs propelled me furiously forward.  But before long it was burning into the taxed tissue of my lungs, sinking the blade in my side that much deeper. I began to bob and weave as best I could, ducking around trunks and hurdling fallen logs, always mindful of the constant thud of the paws on the damp earth just behind.  One sharp turn, and my ankle gave way, sending me tumbling down a leaf-littered incline with a distinctly pathetic little scream.  I could hear his howl rising again, full and furious from the ridge above, and I crawled frantically for the cover of nearby shrubbery as he sprinted off in search of a safer path down to the bottom of the hill.

I’ve no idea how long I clawed my way along the chilly ground, my teeth chattering in my head from cold and fear and pure, pumping adrenaline.  I’d just squeezed myself into the hollow of one ancient trunk, praying for a moment to catch my breath and gather my wits, when the sound of him skidding to a halt behind the tree made me slam my eyes shut tight.  I clapped my hand over my mouth, panting as quietly as I could as I listened to him stalk the perimeter outside, a low growl rumbling deep in his throat as his thick, furry pelt scraped against the bark.  I listened to him sniff the air, shivered at the angry timber in his dissatisfied snort. 

And then, by some unexplainable miracle, he was stalking away to the west, the cadence of his stride picking up speed as it carried him into the distance.  I held my breath a moment longer, allowing a full moment of silence to pass before sobbing it softly into my fist.  I swiped at the tears that were streaking my face, hissing a bit as their salt burned its way into the scratches furrowing my skin.  Finally, drawing in a deep lungful of fresh oxygen, I crawled carefully out of my protective cover, blinking to focus my bleary eyes.

A soft, silvery mist carpeted the floor of the forest, swirling around my ankles as I tested my weight on one, then the other.  The left was fine but the right sang out a screeching aria as soon as I planted it, and I reopened the wound on my tongue biting back a scream.  Clenching my jaw and digging my nails into my palms, I pushed myself into motion, limping clumsily back the direction, I hoped, we’d come from.

I’d only been shuffling along a short time when the dense rows of oak and ash and elm began to thin, giving way to a clearing at least the length of a football field.  No cover, nowhere to hide, the alcove was bathed in mockingly bright moonlight.  I stood and stared, combing my gaze over every possible inch before squaring my shoulders and moving forward once more, a silent prayer on repeat in the depths of my brain.

Please, God.  Please… please, please, dear God… please…

I had nearly reached the shelter of the woods once more when I heard it, the crunch of hibernating grass underneath massive paws, the wet, slurping sound of a salivating tongue licking hungrily across canines and incisors.  My eyes were wide and wet as I turned, slow, scared, my limbs dragging as if through quicksand.

He was terrible and beautiful, and my breath stopped behind my ribs as I looked, really looked, for the first time.  His coat was thick and lush, shining in the moon’s brilliant glow; I could smell the earthy, spicy musk of him as he raised his hackles with a vibrating shake.  Head to toe sinew and strength, beast and man in one.  He stood erect, watching me with icy regard as I shivered, his claws clicking mutely as his fingers twitched with the electric surge of his racing blood. I might have lost myself in fascination, were it not for the cold, hungry embers glowing malevolent red in the blue of his eyes.

“T-T-Tom, please,”  I stammered, backing up one hobbled step at a time, my hands held out in front of me in pleading, empty defense.  “Tom, it’s me… it’s your M-Michelle… your little one… please… you’re scaring me… please…”  His posture hunched and he snapped his jaws around a blood-chilling bark that echoed into the night, making me jump and tremble where I stood.  “T-T-Tom, please…” I sobbed, stealing a glance over my shoulder to make certain nothing behind my heels would send me sprawling ass over teakettle as I edged closer and closer to what I was desperate to believe was the safety of the tree line.  “Please…”

He cocked his head in curious fashion, licked his whiskers in another slow, taunting taste.  I registered the subtle squat of his powerful (hind?) legs, and whirled with a muted shriek, hurling myself back into the woods as he launched himself once more in pursuit.  My chest was ablaze, the knife digging in above my hip had plunged deeper to the small of my back, and I could feel my ankle swelling in my boot.  But on I ran, as fast as I could, until the sight of the deadfall blocking my path yards ahead stole all the air left in the world.  Digging my teeth into my bottom lip, I threw myself towards it, clawing my way higher and higher, half convincing myself that, if I made it over, I would somehow make it further, make it away, to safety, unscathed.

I was halfway to the top when I spared a frantic glance over my shoulder, sweat and tears doubling my vision.  The creature had reached the bottom of the barricade and was looking up at me, teeth bared in an unmistakably wicked grin.  I watched muscle ripple beneath his fur as he crouched low, collecting his strength, a rumble of determination rising from deep within his gut.  I turned my face back to the bark and branches above me, the few remaining feet stretching into impossible miles.  Squeezing my eyes shut, I pushed myself one last laughable inch as he vaulted from the ground.  His mighty leap landed his body easily over mine, gravity dragging us both down together as his thrashing arms sent debris flying every which way in the darkness.  We landed doubled over one thick, rotting log, his broad, heavy chest pinning me beneath him.  The chill of the autumn night was all but forgotten as the heat of him overwhelmed me, suffocating, making me gasp and sweat as I babbled a stream of instinctual begging I couldn’t have suppressed if I tried.

“Tom!  Please!  Stop!  Get off of me… you’re hurting me… please… please… please please STOP!”

The only answer I received was a low, warning snarl against the back of my neck as his arms closed tight around me, threatening to squeeze away what little air my lungs held without a second thought.  A boiling surge of panic bubbled in my stomach and I began to struggle in earnest, kicking frantically, my legs connecting with nothing but air.  His hoarse and husky bark sounded right beside my ear, a deafening roar that made me mewl in terror.  The purr and tear of parting fabric harmonized with the rasping whuffs of his breath as his claws curled ruthlessly into my sweater, my leggings, some slashes deliberate while others were merely side effects of my own hysterical thrashing.  His savage impatience was palpable as he wrestled me down, one large paw anchoring me to the ground at the base of my skull while his jaws snapped open and shut, tearing cloth away with a wild whipping of his head. 

Our grappling opened a shallow furrow the length of my shoulder blade, scratched scarlet hash marks into the soft curves of my hips.  My palms, already raw from my ill-fated climb, were threaded with needle-thin abrasions, tiny rocks and slivers of wood bit into my knees, my shins.  But more frightening than all of those things was the immediate illicit and not at all unpleasant burn that settled in the hollow of my gut and stretched warm, wicked fingers down between my legs when the broad, pink wet of his tongue laved the blood that dripped from each of my scuffs and scrapes.

“T-T-T-Tom?”

He lifted his head at the sound of my voice, the midnight black of his eyes filled with a malevolent gleam.  We held each other’s gaze a brief and breathless moment; then, as I watched, his lids slid shut as he sniffed the air, long, deliberate and deep.  Slowly, they opened once more, flashing warm blue fire I’d recognize anywhere.

By then, of course, resistance was more than futile.  It was ridiculously, deliciously absurd.

My hands that had been fisting the soil as I tried to pull myself away went slack, and tiny clouds of fine dust skittered into the air on the gusts of my breath as I lay my cheek against the ground.  The chill of the evening breeze dusted over my back as he rose up with a mockingly mollified woof, and I whimpered, embarrassed and excited as the heat of his muzzle burrowed between my thighs.  Snuffling and snorting, the broad, strong expanse of his forehead pushed against me, forcing me up onto my knees before nudging them roughly apart. 

I hissed at the scrape of his fur against my abraded skin as his body covered mine once more, then gasped aloud, my eyes blowing wide as the thick, hard shaft of his cock pushed its way between my labia.  I buried my burning cheeks in the cold, dry blades of grass and fallen leaves as he rutted methodically against me, bathing his length in the wetness that dripped almost defensively from my body.  A velvety rumble rose from deep within his chest, vibrating through me as the damp heat of his nose foraged through my hair in search of flesh.  He found it, the hammering pulse point beneath my ear, and I shivered as his tongue licked hungrily at the sweat and the dirt.  His powerful snout pushed my head to the side, and I watched his eyes narrow to slits as his hands braced on either side of my shoulders, as his hips moved his leaking tip against the clenched entrance of my cunt.

“Please,” I whispered, his whiskers tickling my lips.  “Please, Tom… please don’t hurt me.”

His lips pulled back from his shining teeth in a taunting canine grin.  And before I could take another breath, he thrust, his victorious bay as he slid deep drowning out my scream of shocked and shame-filled delight. 

The beast above me looked nothing like the man I knew and loved, but the throbbing length driving towards the barrier inside me felt wonderfully, almost frighteningly familiar.  He sank himself in to the hilt, pushing his pelvis against my ass in sharp, rhythmic pulsations underscored by his heavy, guttural grunts.  Then, just as quickly as he’d invaded, he retreated, and a new pleasure/pain dragged against my g-spot – the primitive scratch of tiny barbs rising from his head.  I yelped at the sensation, and he growled into my ear as my quivering walls spasmed reflexively around him.  He thrust against the pressure again and again and again, each backstroke raking mercilessly over each nerve and sending a red and hazy flood of endorphins surging through my blood. All thoughts of fight, of struggle, of escape flowed out of me like the tears leaking from my eyes, like the arousal now dripping between my legs and I let myself slump beneath him as his tongue swept the salt from my skin.

“Ohhhh… Tom…”

He breathed a blunt, urgent whine in reply to that first wanton, welcoming, moan, his head shaking as if to help him focus.  My nails were torn and my palm was shredded, but the silky softness of his coat soothed the sting as I curled my grip around his wrist.  My other arm reached back behind me, my fingers finding purchase in the thick pelt behind his ear, and his growl of savage satisfaction reverberated through me as I fisted his fur and gave a small tug.

“More, Sir,” I whispered into the wind.  “Please…”

His jaw opened and he exhaled a savage snarl, winding his other limb around me and flipping me roughly to my back, his dark eyes an inferno as he pulled me hard into his next brutal thrust.  I gasped in pained delight, let my head fall back, offering him the unguarded fragile landscape of my throat.  He pressed his mouth against me, worrying flesh without actually tearing it, filling the air with the frantic sounds of his warm, wet tongue and his clicking teeth.  He lapped at the perspiration pooled in the hollows of my neck and shoulders, snuffled his way down the valley between my breasts, nipped roughly at their swollen peaks. He tolerated the stroking of my hands until it became too much a distraction; I jerked them to safety beneath my chin when he snapped violently at my fingers, saliva flying from his chops.

The prickle of the dry grass beneath me was scratching at the wounds our grappling had left behind, silvery whispers of agony that kept me from slipping away on a tide of unbelieving ecstasy.  The electricity pulsating through him was palpable, static crackling through his coat as I slid my arms around his broad, solid shoulders.  I clung to him, a willing hostage as he pushed and plunged and plundered, bending me to his pleasure without any trace of timidity or tenderness.  His teeth gnashed in the moonlight, his claws left divots in the curves of my hips and thighs as he chased impulse after base, feral impulse, and I basked in the heat of his assault in softly whimpering surrender, aroused and fulfilled by the urges I could feel and almost hear pulsing through his veins…

Want…need… tight wet warm… good, so good… deeper… faster…

Mine… mine… claim… take… take… take… come… come… COME…

That last exploded through his brain and into mine, a harsh, woofing command.  I curled my hands to tiny vises in his pelt, screaming affirmation to the sky, my broken voice wrapped in the violent, victorious howl he bayed to the moon drifting indifferently above, his considerable weight collapsing against me when his celestial mistress ducked her pretty pale head behind a thick, ebony cloud.  His breath was a hot, moist whine in my ear and I pressed tighter against him, desperate for his heat.  He lay limp in my arms a quiet moment, his stare hazy with sated desire as I rubbed gently behind his ears.  His nose gave a twitch, took a long, deep, sniff, and then he was stumbling off of me, nudging me onto my side. His tongue scraped gently over the slash in my shoulder, the nicks and scratches on my back.  Over and over, the long, laving licks soon felt like soft, sweet kisses as his rhythmic panting slowly seemed to take the shape of my name.

“Michelle… Michelle… my lovely Michelle…”

“Michelle… Michelle?  Little one?  Wake up for me now…”

I sat up with a gasp, one hand to my throat, my eyes darting wildly around the golden dim of our bedroom.  “Tom?”

“Yeah, love, it’s me,” he exhaled a chagrined chuckle, sitting up beside me and pressing his lips to my bare shoulder.  “I told you I’d be home late… I didn’t mean to frighten you…”

I turned my head to look at him, still feeling the bite of a cold autumn breeze, my nose still full of the scent of pine needles and blood and warm, musky fur.

No beast in bed beside me, just a man.  Tousled curly hair, glasses smudged from a day of driving, white v-neck t-shirt offering the cutest peek of one small tuft of chest hair.  His beloved blue jacket lay draped over his suitcase in the doorway; he hadn’t even bothered to unbuckle his belt or kick off his shoes. I threw myself into his confused embrace, dancing kisses over his open, laughing mouth as my weight pushed us both into the nest of pillows behind him. 

“And here I thought you’d hand me my head for making you greet the trick-or-treaters alone,” he hummed, running his palms over the dip of my spine, stroking and squeezing the curves of my ass.

“I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care,” I mumbled churlishly, burrowing into his chest, slipping my hands under the hem of his shirt to feel his skin against mine.  “I’m just so glad you’re home.  Although, I do have to tell you, you did miss the cutest little family… the most adorable Tink and Peter Pan you’re ever gonna see… they even had this fat little Tick Tock Croc…”

His shifting elbow landed on the television remote and the screen snapped alight, displaying the on-demand video menu for his amused scrutiny.  “The Shining… The Ring… The Howling… oh, really, Michelle, are you serious?”  He pulled me squealing underneath him, pinning my wrists above my head.  “Here I am, beyond excited to find you in bed, deliciously naked, writhing and wriggling and moaning my name, and it turns out, you’re just having a ridiculous Halloween nightmare!”

“Well,” I ducked my chin, a bit embarrassed, “ridiculous it was, I’ll admit that.  I don’t… exactly… think I’d call it a nightmare, though.”

“Oh really?” He cocked a curious eyebrow.  “Are you going to tell me or not?”

I cut my eyes to his hold on my arms, batting my lashes until he let me go.  “I’m thinking, Sir,” I purred, turning onto my side and scooting to spoon suggestively against him, “it might be more fun to show you.”

“Oh really?” He growled, happily playing along, peeling off his glasses and dropping them to his nightstand with a clatter.  “My naughty little Halloween whore,” he teased as I rubbed against the interest quickly rising behind his fly.  “Trying to bring out the animal in me?”

“Ohhh, Sir,” I sighed, stretching up for his kiss, “if you only knew…”

Thomas’ teeth flashed white beneath his moustache as he exhaled a wry chuckle, shaking his head and nudging her to sit on the board at the bow.  She scowled at him from her perch as he sank to the bench and took up the oars, then turned to glare out at the open water so sharply her braid whipped clean from one shoulder to the other.

The row back to the Bronwyn was cool and quiet, the only sounds the muttering splashes of waves against the wood and the occasional whisper of the breeze dancing over the sea.  Tierney moved automatically to take up the lantern once the ship was in sight, her fingers strong and sure as she scratched a match to light the wick.  She raised the lamp in greeting, its warmth caressing her cheek as the acknowledging cry of the boatswain’s whistle sang out loud and clear.  The ladder she’d dropped only hours before still dangled over the side; Thomas eased the launch between the fall lines and allowed her to help him tether it tight before shooing her up with a wave of his hand.  She climbed slowly, watching over her shoulder as he snuffed the flame and secured the sculls, until Guillermo’s callused hands caught her upper arms and gave a firm, friendly tug.

“Vamos, cosa bastante, y con vosotros…”

She smiled wearily at the little Spaniard, allowed him to help her find her footing on the deck.  He dropped an adorable bow before turning back to the rail, offering the captain a hand as well.  Thomas accepted, his long legs hurdling the side with almost absurd grace.

“Thanks, Guy,” he clapped the man on the back.  “Good news to bear – tell me our haul is ready for load.”

“Oh, sí, señor capitán Thomas,” Guillermo grinned broadly, ushering the commander toward the cargo bay.  “The buy was good, yeah?”

“Most profitable, hermano,” Thomas gave his purse a brisk jiggle.  “More where this came from, just as soon as Merriman’s men secure the lot.  Tomorrow, dusk.  With his boats and ours… three trips, maybe four…” 

Tierney was about to follow behind them when the captain’s voice drifted back, his words light, his tone anything but.

“Tierney, I’ll meet you below.”

If the deckhand sensed any tension, he gave no sign; Tierney waited for the men to head down to the hold before turning on her heel, taking the stern steps down to avoid encountering any of the other lingering crew.  She moved through the anteroom and into their cabin, lighting the lamps before crossing to the window table and uncorking the crystal decanter.  She downed a swig from the bottle direct, passing the back of her hand over her lips as the dark liquor burned its way to her stomach.

Steady on, girl.  You’ve taken a lick or two in your life, and you’ve got the blood of Seamus McCrae in your veins.  Head up, lips shut, this too shall pass.

She paced the floor in front of the bed, lost in her thoughts until the cabin door closed with a heavy thud, making her jump and sending a flock of goosebumps skittering over her skin.  She swallowed the lump in her throat as Thomas’ footsteps approached, slow, measured, his shadow on the floor growing as he closed the distance between them.  She bit her lip, lifting her chin a notch as he stopped beside her, his broad chest brushing her shoulder as he looked down at her.  Silence stretched out between them until it was nearly a palpable itch beneath her skin, but she kept her eyes fixed on the wall above the headboard until, with a sigh, Thomas broke it at last.

“Am I not your captain, Tierney?” he queried, his voice low, silky smooth. 

All business, I see, Tierney turned her eyes up to his, gauging the tempest behind his brow by the lightning flashing in their cerulean depths.  Her pulse throbbed briefly in the center of her skull; she drew in a deep breath, let it go in an unhurried exhale.

“You are, Thomas.  Sir.”

His gaze narrowed a bit.  “Did I not give you a command?”

She pursed her lips around her rebel tongue.  “You did, sir.”

“What was it?”  His mouth quirked at the corners when her teeth scraped against one another, her jaw clenching tight.

“You commanded me to stay aboard the ship,” she spoke cool and clipped, glowering when he stared at her in expectant silence.  “Sir,” she sneered at last.

“And did you obey that command?”  His head tilted on his neck, and it was only with mighty effort that Tierney resisted the urge to bend him double with a fist to his gut.  She took another steadying breath, then squared her posture in resolve.

“No, sir, I did not.”

Thomas held her gaze a few stoic seconds, then shifted his weight, his hands emerging from where he’d held them behind his back.  From the left dangled four thin yards of tightly woven hemp; his right held a cat o’nine tails, its braids coiled neatly around the handle.

“Arms and legs, little redwing,” he murmured huskily, “quickly now.”

Tierney’s wide eyes darted to the bedframe, blinked once, then twice before returning to the drawn lines of his face.

“Y-you… you mean to do this here?”

He dropped an unconcerned shrug.  “If ceremony and spectacle is what you desire, Tierney, we can head up portside and I’ll willingly oblige.”

She was shaking her head before she realized.  “No!  But I… I just thought…”

Thomas’ features softened the slightest hint around the edges.  “I gave the order outside the company of the crew.  You disobeyed me outside the company of the crew.  I’ve no issue meting out your punishment outside the company of the crew.”  His irises twinkled with a brief, merry light.  “Unless, as I said, your guilty conscience judges you unworthy of such a kindness…”

“My guilty conscience,” Tierney snorted briefly, her hands darting out with cheeky flourish so she could wrap her fingers around the bedposts, her legs spreading wide and her boots planting firmly to the floor.  “Let’s get on with it then.”

She kept her eyes open and clear as Thomas took another step forward, huffing a small but indifferent sniff as he uncoiled the tails of the flogger, draping it across the mattress in front of her.  His quiet chortle caressed its way down her spine as he wound one tether around her left wrist, securing it snugly to the bedframe before kneeling to bind her left ankle in similar fashion.  She could feel the heat of his body as he passed behind her, gliding smoothly to restrain her right side as well.  Once she was trussed and unable to move, he returned to his side of the berth, wrapping his fingers around the handle of the whip.  She inhaled sharply at the rustle of the leather cords as he shook them out in demonstration, raising her nose a bold little hitch.  Finally, he paused, catching the heavy helix of her braid and slowly, deliberately, draping it over her shoulder.

“Do you need a moment?” His tone, still full of undeniable authority, licked gently at her earlobe, and she tossed her head, shooting him a steely glare.

“I most certainly do not, please and thank you,” she snipped before facing the wall once more.  “You go right ahead and do your worst.”

“Oh, pretty Tierney…” He took a step back, and her building ire escaped her in a harsh gasp as his hands caught her collar with an efficient tug, his grip tearing the cotton of her shirt to the hem with laughable ease and putting the smooth, shapely landscape of her back on display.  “Don’t think I won’t.”  The boards beneath his boots creaked and groaned as he shifted his stance. 

“An even twenty, little spitfire.  Keep the count.”

The whisper of the threads cutting the air gave her a heartbeat to prepare, and the initial blow across the blade of one shoulder was as much shock as sting.  Yet Tierney still dug her teeth into her bottom lip, biting back the responding cry that boiled in her throat until she could shape the word even and strong. 

“One.”

The second landed lower, trailing across the center of her spine, the tips of each tail snapping smartly around the cage of her ribs. 

“Two!”

The third was lower still, the biting burn absorbed by the fleshy curve of one hip peeking out from the waist of her trousers. 

“Th-three…”  She drew in air as he lifted his arm once more, squeezing her eyes closed against the pinprick of tears and digging her nails into the wood of the bedpost.  Lash number four striped heavier on the left, five balanced the pain when it struck on the right.  Higher, then lower, left, right, and center; she’d just managed to spit a venomous “ten” when Thomas lowered the whip and crossed to the table.

She could hear the cork leaving the neck of the flagon, the sound of the water sloshing as he took a deep draught.  She allowed herself a moment of rapid panting, expelling the sobs that threatened to burst from her chest in small, soundless puffs.  The cool evening air bit at her abraded skin, almost as sharp as the cat itself, and her tears slid soundlessly down her cheeks when she opened her eyes, raining down to darken the fabric of her ruined shirt.  She lifted her head with a sniffle, shook it a bit to cast off the stray strands of hair that had fallen across her forehead.  The flask appeared in front of her, and Thomas sloshed its contents in invitation.

“Well begun and halfway done,” he said, his voice just shallow of praise.  “Drink?”

Tierney turned her dark, wet eyes to his.  “Would you offer any other man?”

His satisfied smirk enflamed and infuriated her in equal measure.  “Not a drop.”

“Then put the fucking thing away.”

His right eyebrow cocked briefly, and he took another long swallow as he swaggered back to the table.  Tierney took a moment to twist her wrists in their bonds, sniffling once more and squaring her frame, despite the sting it sent radiating from each welt and weal. 

Thomas took up the lash and resumed his pace as before, taking his time, landing each stroke crisp and clean over the terrain of her back.  Each strike found purchase in a different spot, but it mattered little; the prickling, sizzling pain had settled into her skin, making every blow seem to land everywhere at once.  She continued to stammer out the count, until the stubborn shape of the number sixteen hiccupped in her throat.

“I’m waiting, little redwing,” easy, encouraging.  “Or do we need to go back to the beginning?”

“Sixteen!” She forced the word from her mouth in a harsh, barking cough, turning her face to the ceiling as tears once again slid from the corners of her eyes.  “Goddamn it, Thomas!”

“We’re nearly there…”

“Oh, fuck your ‘we’, we aren’t doing anything… OW!”

Even through her breeches, the tails of the cat sent a vicious, scorching bite cutting across the swells of her buttocks.

“Tierney,” the word was heavy with warning, “you forget your place once more, and you can hang here trussed while I send for Gus to finish the job.”  He clicked his tongue against his teeth.  “He may be fond of you, my dear, but he’s damn friendly with Frosty, too – didn’t stop him from stripping flesh near to the bone when the lad tried to make off with a barrel of our finest Jamaican lady last time we anchored home.”

Swallowing down a screech of fury, Tierney turned her head on her neck, shooting daggers at the captain through slitted lids.  “Sixteen,” she repeated in a hiss.

“Oh, girl,” Thomas purred, his eyes swirling with dark amusement, “perhaps you are a pirate after all.”

He struck her again, and again, until the count was complete and her held breath left her in a shuddering gust.  Her body was quaking from head to toe and she took a moment of slack, letting the ropes around her wrists do the work of holding her upright.  The flogger clattered against the tabletop, and when Thomas appeared again at her side, she accepted his offer of water with a quiet nod, swallowing in trembling gulps and shivering at the drops that tickled their way down her neck. She’d just closed her eyes and filled her lungs with fresh air when his fingertips danced over her back, making her yelp in pained surprise.

“Shhhh, little redwing,” he soothed, his lips a gentle caress at the top of her spine.  “You did well.  But do us both a favor, eh? In the future, remember that I say what I mean, and I mean what I say.  You can speak your piece, same as any man on this crew.  I’ll give ye a listen, same as I would any of them.”  His whiskers brushed against her neck as he leaned closer to speak directly into her ear.  “But mark me well, Tierney.  This ship is mine, and as long as you’re on it, my word is law.”  She bit back a sullen whimper as the grain of his shirt dusted against her reddened flesh.  “Defy it again, and it will be my pleasure to decorate you once more.”

The proud and gentle timbre of his voice should have settled soothingly in her gut.  But a surge of lingering, smarting pride bubbled up inside her throat as he reached above her, twisting at the knot that held one arm in place. His groin brushed the still-throbbing curve of her ass, and feeling his warm and rigid erection pressed sung against her was all she needed to send it spilling from her lips.

“I doubt it not, Captain,” she jeered lightly, meeting his gaze over her shoulder before craning her neck to glance down at his crotch.  “You grind against all the lads after a flogging like that?  Or do ye just hurry yourself down here to be alone with your hand?”

Thomas’ eyes flew wide, the tranquil blue all but swallowed by spreading, stormy pools of midnight pitch as his jaw sagged in unmistakable shock.  “Brazen little brat,” he snarled, curling his fingers at her scalp and yanking her head back on her neck.  “I’d forgotten that, from time to time, you need your lessons knocked into you more’n once.”

Tierney managed a wicked smile, despite the eye-watering discomfort of his hand in her hair.  “Then take up the cat again, Cap’n, you’ll find I can count much higher than twenty.”

“Oh, little redwing,” his other hand caressed her hip, sliding under the tatters of her tunic, over her stomach and down to the waist of her trousers.  “I don’t need a whip to set you straight on this point.  After all,” his chin hooked over her shoulder, his body pressing against hers as his fingertips dipped below the fabric, delving down between her legs, “I ain’t alone with my hand now, am I?”

Tierney whipped her head to the side, her lips brushing his cheek as she braced her posture within her restraints.  “You can feel your way along parts south all you like, Cap’n, drop your anchor if it suits you,” she quipped, elated when her words emerged steady and sure.  “You may command this ship and the souls aboard it, you can demand a civil tone as you like.  And I’ll pay the price in pain when my tongue runs away, but no one commands this body but me.”

“Is that so, pretty bird?” He growled, rolling the iron rod of his cock into the cleft between her buttocks as his fingers slid lower, seeking the moist heat hidden beneath the triangle of silky, crimson curls.  “Seems to me,” the tip of his tongue flickered against the shell of her ear as he nudged his touch between her plump, slick folds, “warm southern tides are rising whether you’d like them to or not…”

Tierney swallowed the moan cresting in her throat, gripping the smooth wooden posts of the bed with murderous determination.  “It ain’t what you feel that counts now, is it, Thomas Hiddleston?”

“I don’t know, Tierney,” his controlled rasp blew through the soft little hairs at the base of her skull as the tip of one finger teased its way along the tensed and drawn entrance to her cunt.  “Are you really going to tell me this doesn’t feel good?”

She clenched her teeth, turning her face away from his with a determined snort. “I will.  Because it doesn’t.”

“Oh, sweet little redwing,” he chuckled, using his hand to push her back against him as his fingertip pressed slowly up inside her.  “Would you demand that I stop?”

“I don’t care what you do, Thomas,” she gritted harshly, squeezing her eyes shut and focusing on the angry hum of her punished skin as she tried to numb every cell his touch sparked to life.  “One way or the other.”

He nibbled at the sensitive spot beneath her ear, the heel of his hand rubbing teasingly against her swelling clit as the other descended to fumble with the laces of his trousers.  “Mmm, your nimble little tongue is as cold and sharp as ever,” he grunted softly in relief as the knot gave way, allowing his cock to spring free from his fly.  “But your body doesn’t lie, sweet.  You’re warm, and getting warmer.  You’re wet, soon to be dripping.”  His hand darted back to her scalp, wrenched her face back to his, and she could taste the lust on his breath as his lips brushed hers.  “Your back is raw and your pride is chapped, but neither of those aches can compare to the one burning inside you, eh?  That throbbing emptiness that just begs to be filled?”

“No,” Tierney snarled, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.  “Yes… I…I mean…”

“Tell me to stop,” his grip between her legs gave a brisk upward tug, making her gasp and shudder and blink in surprise.  “Tell me to stop and I’ll take you down, tuck you in bed, penance paid and a clean slate for tomorrow.”

“I told you,” she spat like an angry kitten, “I don’t care what you do!”

“Oh, Tierney,” he chuckled before crushing his lips to hers in a brutal, bruising kiss, “my lovely little liar.”

She sagged in her bonds as he abruptly released her, her fingers scrabbling reflexively at the bedposts for purchase.  His shadow danced briefly on the wall to the musical rustle of his clothes falling to the floor, and then he fisted her breeches at the small of her back.  With one strong and simple yank, he split the seams; before she could open her mouth to plead or protest, he’d stepped between her spread legs and filled her with one swift, savage roll of his hips.

“Christ… Thomas…” she keened, throwing her head back and rising up on her toes.

“There’s a girl,” his voice rumbled wicked praise from deep within his chest.  “Yield to me now.”

“Thomas,” she moaned, dismayed by how quickly the pleasure swelling inside her overwhelmed the pain, soothing even the singes and cracks of her battered vanity.  “My God…”

“You hush now, little redwing,” he growled rocking into her again, and once more.  “You said it made no difference to you, so give your captain what he wants… ohhh… Tierney….”  His palms spanned her waist beneath the remains of her shirt, slid up to cup her breasts as he mouthed his way along her shoulder.  Before long, his skin was glistening with excitement and exertion, and Tierney whined softly as the friction of his chest against her back rubbed the salt of his sweat into the stripes the cat had left behind.

Over and over he plunged, plundered, driving himself inside her at a pace that left her breathless, the air forced from her lungs before she’d had a fair chance to fill them at all.  The tethers at her wrists and ankles kept her stretched and spread, unable to twist into his touch or angle her body to her own enjoyment, and she found herself wild with desperation when his rhythm slowed, stuttered, signaling his approaching climax while hers was nowhere in sight.

“Thomas,” she sobbed, turning her head with mighty effort.  “Please…”

His eyes were sleepy with near-satisfied desire when he lifted his face from the hollow of her neck.  “Please what, little redwing?” He cocked a rakish brow.  “What would you have?”

“P-please…”

His chiseled features hardened and he pulled her roughly back against him.  “Sass and sarcasm left you dry?” he gruffed.  “Stop mewling at me, little spitfire.  Give me an answer or shut your mouth.  What would you have?”

All thoughts of sweet surrender vanished from her mind in a volcanic flash of fury.  “I would have the same satisfaction you would take from me… Sir.”

“Is that so?” Thomas grinned, thrusting hard as his fingers danced over her nipples.  “Don’t see how that’s my problem,” he nipped at her earlobe.  “After all, this body is yours to command, isn’t it?  Make your own satisfaction if you want it so bad.”

Tierney jerked away from him, teeth bared in a snarl.  “Untie me,” she seethed, “and I will.”

“Hmmm,” Thomas teased, sliding his hands leisurely over her form.  “I think not, little bird.  I rather like you like this… very satisfying indeed.”

“Well, you enjoy it while it lasts, you arrogant arse,” she fumed, full of venom.  “I daresay you’ll not have me like this again.”

“Well, then,” he chortled, pausing to groan in delight as he sheathed himself fully once more, “by your leave…” 

Thrust and retreat, thrust and retreat, and Tierney struggled in earnest against the ties that held her fast, canting her body as best she could until her heart threatened to pound its way out of her chest, every muscle alive and angry with a vicious, gnawing hunger.  Thomas’ grip settled firmly on her hips and the pressure within her suddenly shifted, the thick ridge that ran the underside of his cock grinding smooth and sure against that secret spot inside her, the one that swelled and throbbed and sent white-hot bolts of lightning surging through her veins.

“Thomas,” she gasped, unable to wring the ecstasy from her tone.

“There’s what you want, eh, feisty girl?  What you need, what you’d beg for, if not for that idiotic mick pride of yours.”

“Goddammit, Thomas…”

His body pressed tight against hers once more, and her eyes rolled back in her head as his hand slipped down between her legs.

“Yield to me, Tierney… give me the helm…”

“No!” She bucked wildly in his embrace, even as her body betrayed her.  “I will not!”

“You said you trusted me, Tierney,” he suckled sweetly on her earlobe as his fingers circled her clit.  “Trust me now.”

“No!”

“Sassy, stubborn brat,” he hummed in her ear, his hips hammering into her with brutal efficiency.  “It’s not a defeat if we both get what we want.”

“I… I…” She shook her head wildly, tears leaking from her eyes.

“You know what to do, little redwing,” his other hand caught her chin, brought her mouth back to his.  “Trust me, Tierney.  Trust your captain.”

“Thomas,” she whimpered, the drag of her climax catching her, pulling her under at the urging of his hand and his hard, driving cock.

“Aye, love.  I’ve got you.  Just let go… just yield…”

The world swirled in prisms of crashing color as his tongue filled her mouth, as the thrust of his body forced her under the waves, plunging her deeper and deeper before launching her to break surface once more, gasping and gulping and moaning his name.

“Thomas…”

His brow was soaked and slippery as it came to rest at the base of her skull, the bellows of his breath soothing the pinpricks of pain still blossoming in her skin.

“Tierney,” weak, watery, adrift on unfamiliar tide.  “I love you…”

Her eyes were wide and her jaw was slack as she dangled in her bonds, her frame supporting his as he softened, slipped from her, their perspiration pattering softly to the floor as the tide of their pleasure ebbed slowly to wet the flesh inside her still spread thighs.  Slowly, clumsily at first, his fingers scuttled along her limbs to tug free her tethers, and she slumped into his embrace, her arms and legs shaking.  He lifted her with ease, carrying her around the corner of the bed and laying her carefully on her side. She fixed her eyes on the shimmering oil in the belly of the bedside lamp, watched the reflection of the flame dancing above as he eased her boots from her feet, her tattered clothes from her limbs.  Curling around her pillow, she tucked her thumbnail between her teeth and chewed thoughtfully until the cold, comforting prickle of a damp cloth against her punished skin made her whimper in her throat.

“Shhhh,” Thomas soothed his lips over each weal and welt, the soft tickle of his whiskers making her squirm and sigh, “my brave little bird.”  From her neck to her shoulders and down to her waist, he cleaned every lash until the biting burn had faded to a dull, throbbing ache.  Then, after catching her chin in his hand and turning her face to his for one long, last kiss, he reached for the lamp himself.  Dousing the wick, he pulled her against him, yawning a bleary “sweet dreams” into her hair.

She’d no real grasp of how unsettled she felt until a hearty baritone snore rumbled against her, sending a shiver down the curve of her spine.  She wriggled in irritation, her elbow catching his stomach just below the ribs a bit harder than she’d intended.  Thomas grunted, surprised, and she squeaked as his palm cracked her backside in a reflexive swat.

“Bleedin’ Christ, Tierney… what was that for?”

“You’re croaking grand opera in my ear, you old bullfrog,” she scowled, muttering under her breath as he rolled over, tugging her along with him until she was pillowed on his chest.

“A thousand pardons, m’lady,” he drolled, pulling the linens up over them both.  She lay quiet a moment, her fingers twirling absently through the dusting of hair between his nipples until his large palm squeezed them still.  “For fuck’s sake, girl, what the hell is the matter?”

“Ain’t nothin’ the matter with me,” Tierney snapped with aplomb.  “You’re the one laying here with something jiggled loose ‘tween your ears.”

“Tierney,” worn, weary, “what the hell are you on about?”

“How can you say that,” she sat up with a huff, strands of fiery hair falling loose from her braid to feather along her cheeks, “that thing that you said?  And how can you lay there, half dead to the world, knowin’ I ain’t said a damn thing in reply?”

“What thing?” Thomas yawned, reaching up to twist a stray lock around one finger.  “That I love you?”  He laughed at the scowl that furrowed her features.  “Like that ain’t a thing you didn’t already know.”

“Didn’t already…” Tierney slapped his hand away, her teeth grinding like millstones at the sound of his chuckle.  “How would I know a thing such as that?”

“Well, girl, again, I am beggin’ your pardon,” Thomas sat up himself, smoothed a thumb over the crease of her brow.  “Pretty Tierney,” he nuzzled his lips against hers, his eyes never closing as he teased her with soft, tiny whispers of kisses. “If you didn’t know it before, know it now.  I love you.”

A sudden, sweet wave lurched to and fro in her stomach, but Tierney resisted its pull, refusing to ride the crest further into his arms.  “I ain’t sayin’ it back,” she blurted, biting her lip, her fingers worrying the sheet clasped between her breasts.

Thomas threw his head back, rich laughter enveloping her in a warmth as confusing as it was comforting.  “Fiery little redwing,” he caressed her cheek once more, “I fell in love with you when you wouldn’t utter a word.”  He bumped his forehead playfully against hers.  “I don’t expect your silence will change much of anything now.”  With a rakish wink, he fell back into the mattress, patting the muscle above his heart.  “Come on now, sassy brat.  Full day tomorrow and we rise with the sun.  Best get your rest while the gettin’s still good.”  She stared in disbelief as he slung his arm across her pillow, closing his eyes with a satisfied sigh. 

Arrogant arsehole, she sulked in the dim.  I ain’t sayin’ it back!

As she had those first early nights, Tierney waited and watched until she believed he was soundly asleep before lying down, quietly anchoring herself into the welcoming port of his body.  She hissed against his chest as his arm closed around her, rubbing against her abraded back as he pulled her in close.

“Sorry,” he muttered thick into her hair, his lips pursing briefly in an afterthought kiss atop her head.

Her mouth curled briefly in a small, reflexive smile before she could stop it.  “S’all right, Thomas,” she muttered aloud before closing her eyes to repeat to herself.

“Solid ground ‘neath your feet, more room to move than a body needs, fresh food, fancy wine, and soft sweet comp’ny to pass the time,” Frost knuckled sweat from his brow with a breathless laugh.  “Ready to scratch the itch?”  He bit the corner of his lip as Tierney’s withering gaze met his.  “Well… maybe not that last for you, so much…”

"Never had much use for most of the rest, neither,” she shrugged, pressing her palms to the base of her spine and groaning in relief at the crackle that tickled its way up as she stretched."

“Never has a statement surprised me less, miss,” Mason smiled, shaking his head as a rogue wave splashed diamond drops into his sandy brown braid and goatee.  “I’d wager you bleed saltwater, don’t you?”

Tierney grinned, tipping her hat back on her brow.  “Feel like drawing your steel and finding out firsthand?” she teased, planting one hand on her hip while the fingers of the other curled around the pommel of her sword.

“Nay, miss,” he threw up his palms and took a brisk step back.  “I’ve seen you in action, that’s all the firsthand I need.”

“I think we can all count ourselves lucky that the little redwing would chose to fight with us instead of against us.” 

Thomas’ booming baritone brought the slight young man to perfect military attention, and Tierney giggled as she watched him snatch down the hand that was rising in conditioned salute.

“Ship anchored and secure, sir,” he quipped sharply, ignoring the way Frost’s shoulder jostled against the captains.  “Sails kept at halves per orders, ready to away at your command.”

“Damn fine job, my boy,” Thomas clapped him on the back.  “Now go stow that stick up your arse and fetch the coffers.”  The sailor dropped him a crisp nod and another to Tierney before shooting a rude gesture at his dark-haired mate, and the captain turned to Frost himself.  “Livestock watered and empty barrels in the boat, yes?”

“Loaded and tethered and ready for transport, Cap’n,” the lad affirmed with a wink.  “Don’t forget, a new hose won’t go too far amiss.  I done patched that one spot four times now, still weeps like a widow when the flow’s at full force.”

“Understood,” Thomas’ eyes scrutinized the rigging as Houtman huffed up the starboard steps, his dirty blond hair flopping heavily against his cheeks.  “Johannes, what have you got for me?”

As he approached, the bulky Dutchman dipped one hand into the burlap bag he was carrying, pulling out a handful of soft, silky wool.  He splayed the threads across his fingers, his blue eyes wide and impressed as he offered both over for inspection.

“Fuckin’ great haul here, Cap’n.  This is the best of it, but truth be told,’tis all this quality.”

Tierney’s mouth twisted in a wry little smirk as Thomas took the material and stroked his fingertips over the strands; his eyes cut to the side and he exhaled a chuckle at the pride in her expression.

“T’will turn out to be a fine journey, lads,” he grinned, tucking the fluff into the sack and cinching it tight before tossing it back.  “A fine journey indeed.  Add that to the wheat Conall set aside this morning, put ‘em both in the boat.  Tell Gus I’ll be down directly.”  The men disappeared down the stairs in a thunder of boots, and once they were gone, Thomas slipped an arm around Tierney’s waist and pulled her snug against him.  She sulked a bit, her cheek to his chest, until his hand beneath her chin lifted her gaze to his.

“That’s a pretty pout,” he hummed, nuzzling the tip of his nose against hers.  “Give us a taste?”  She shrugged petulantly, resisting his kiss until the gentle caress of his tongue filled her mouth and turned her knees to water.  She fisted the lapels of his shirt until he released her, his thumb stroking the corner of her jaw.  “Come now, little redwing, t’was you who once said folk’ve had to drag you ashore with winch and chain.  What’s one more night afloat on the sea you love so much?”

Tierney shrugged, cuddling into his embrace.  “I might like to see this New World for myself, you know.”

“And you can,” Thomas assured her with a curt swat to her backside, “you and the rest of the skeleton crew keeping watch tonight can have your leave tomorrow.”  Realizing her attempt to sway his decision had fallen flat, she pushed free from his arms with a brusque harrumph, and he gave her swinging braid an affectionate tug.  “We’ll find the port town’s finest pub and I’ll buy you a cup of the best they serve myself.”

“Well, ain’t you just the kindest, most generous captain ever to sail a ship at sea,” she sneered, crossing to the wall of the bow and leaning her forearms on the warm wood to stare morosely out at the calm, waving water.

“Tierney…”

She bit her lip briefly before heaving a sigh.  “I’m sorry, Thomas.  It’s just…” She groped briefly for words until his chest brushed her back, his hands gripping the railing alongside hers as he leaned into the crook of her neck, knocking her hat askew.

“I understand your position, little redwing,” he murmured gently.  “But you must understand mine.”  His swallow echoed in her ear.  “After all,” he paused, “you wouldn’t defy your father’s orders now, would you?”

Her ire pitched slightly at his words, but the muted plea in his eyes tempered its edge, and she managed to offer him a thin, tight smirk.  “You,” she cocked her head a tick, “are not my father.”

“No,” Thomas smiled, “I’m not.  And not just because I’m half a foot and five stones shy.”  He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead before straightening the tricorn above her brow.  “But I’m just as determined to protect his daughter, even if only from herself.”  He pushed himself away from the railing and straightened his waistcoat.  “So I will to the business ashore and you will stay here.”

“Aye, Captain,” she grumbled, toeing a knot in the wood at her feet.

“I’ll be back before the sun is gone.  And if you care for another meeting of the minds to discuss shipboard protocol,” he dropped her a lascivious wink, “what say we do it from a nice, warm bed?”

She shot him a dark and surly scowl but it didn’t matter; the swagger in his departing steps told her he’d seen the shiver that passed through her body at his words as clear as he could see the nose on her face.

What he didn’t see, once his back was to her and moving away, was the way her glower melted into a small, sneering grin that she hastily hid behind her hand.

Just let him get out of sight, girl…

Turning with a sigh, she followed along behind him, watching with half-hearted interest as the men on the deck eagerly assembled at his approach.  A handful of silver clinked into each fellow’s palm, accompanied by rumbled words of sincere thanks from their commander himself. 

“Deserves their loyalty, he does.”

Matthews’ voice at her elbow, and she sniffed wordless agreement, watching the small crowd disperse in a buzz of excitement.  Houtman, Hannibal, Guillermo and Mason all headed back to their posts while the others dashed for their berths, more than ready to begin the leave they’d been waiting weeks to enjoy.  As the sea of bodies parted, Thomas crossed to join the two newcomers, jingling the remaining coins in the bottom of the leather pouch.

“And you,” he thundered quietly, biting back a grin as Matthews lifted his chin and squared his shoulders proper.

“Aye, sir?”

“Why wasn’t your grizzled arse queued up over there?”

“Sir?”  Keoghan glanced uncertainly at Tierney, who shrugged in earnest ignorance, before meeting the captain’s gaze once more. 

Thomas rolled his eyes briefly before shaking the last of the silver into his palm.  “Fair day’s wages for a fair day’s work,” he intoned, holding them out to the wide-eyed older gentleman.  “Or do you do all those back-breaking chores for fun?”

Stunned, Matthews held out an uncertain hand, glancing again at Tierney’s face, now spilt in an ear to ear grin.  Ducking his head, he accept the coins with an embarrassed yet endearing stammer. 

“Yes, sir.  I mean no, no, sir.  I mean… oh, bollocks… thank you.  Thank you, sir, very much.”

“You earned it, Mr. Matthews,” Thomas insisted warmly, clapping the man on the shoulder.  “Enjoy it.”  He stepped to Tierney’s side to let Keoghan pass, laughing a little at the new life in his stride until he felt the young woman’s hip nudge gently into his.

“Thomas William Hiddleston,” her expression was stern, but the warmth in her voice was unmistakable.  “Full of surprises, you are.”

“Oi, Cap!” Gus’ harsh Scottish bass echoed across the deck.  “Loaded and ready for launch, sir.”

Thomas lifted a hand to the man in a wave of acknowledgement, then brushed the back of his fingers along Tierney’s cheek.  “I’ll be back tonight.”

She swallowed the unexpected lump in her throat, lifted her chin.  “You’d better.”

His thumb traced the plump bow of her bottom lip.  “Kiss for luck?”

She nodded, welcoming the soft caress of his mouth with a gentle flicker of her tongue, her fingers tugging at his beard.  And then he spun, swift and graceful, striding to follow Gus over the side and down the ladder into the tender, taking a seat on the bench as the other man took up the oars.  Tierney leaned against the rail of the ship, watching the smaller boat cut through the lapping waves, lifting a hand when Thomas cast one last look back at her over his shoulder.  Then, as soon as he shifted his attention to the task before him, she snatched the hat off her head, turning and dashing for the stairs.

Only moments had passed when Matthews’ knuckles rapped on the cabin door; she gruffed an impatient sniff through her nostrils.  “Come.”

“Just comin’ to wish you a fair night on the water, little lady,” he said, straightening the clean kerchief at his neck before tucking in his shirt.  “The boy’s n’ I’ll be shovin’ off here…”  His voice trailed off into suspicious silence, his eyes narrowing at the young woman as she stood in front of the mirror.  “Miss Tierney? What on earth are you up to?”

She had cast off her own tunic and breeches, dressing hastily in a long-sleeved navy blue top she’d pulled from the bottom of Thomas’ dresser and a fresh pair of black trousers.  The cinch she’d tied at the small of her back to keep the too-large clothing fitted to her body was hidden beneath her waistcoat, and she was busy winding the fresh, tight plait of her hair into a knot atop her head.

“Nothing,” she muttered absently.  “Go away.”

“Tierney,” he tilted his head, his voice heavy with suspicion.  “What are you doing?”

“I ain’t doing anything,” she mumbled, clapping her hat on once again, twisting and turning before her reflection until she was satisfied not a single scarlet strand was showing.  “Get on out of here, old man,” she cheeked before crossing to the bed where her belt, sword and sheath lay waiting.  “Get yourself a grog, sleep in a proper bed.  I’ll see you on the morrow.”

“Don’t you be tellin’ me what to do, you sharp-tongued little stingray,” Matthews shook a finger at her as he followed behind.  “I been watching you your whole short, sassy life, an’ I know just by lookin’ when you’re about to be gettin’ yourself up to somethin’ you ought not.”

“Keoghan, I am fine,” she bit through her teeth as she wriggled herself into the broad leather binding, buckling the heavy belt before easing her blade into the scabbard.  “Them boys, however, are itchin’ something fierce to get solid ground beneath their feet and warm women around their cocks…”

“Tierney!”

“… and if you ain’t in the skiff when they’re ready to shove off, your arse’ll be bobbin’ on this boat all night long.”  She snapped her head up and met his eye with steely resolve.  “Go away.”  Brushing past him with a determined stride, she pulled the door open and headed for the stairs.

“Damn your eyes, Tierney,” he hissed, hot on her heels to the port side of the stern, where the winches were primed to lower one of the ship’s lifeboats to the ocean below.  “Cap’n didn’t speak a word to none of us about your what and wherefore, but somethin’ tells me he made his expectations crystal clear to you.”  He cast a furtive glance over his shoulder as the young woman bustled from frame to frame, easing the lines through the pulleys.  “And somethin’ else tells me this here little trip you’re planning on taking weren’t part of the plan.”

“Matthews, go away!” she seethed, scrambling to keep the rowboat aligned as it descended to the water.

“Fine,” Keoghan threw his arms in the air.  “Fine, fine, just well and fucking fine.  You drop that dinghy and you slide your skinny arse down that ladder into it.  Makes no difference to me it don’t, you stone-brained little fool.”  He yanked his kerchief free from his neck and scrubbed it over his brow.  “Cap’ll be there and back again before those scrawny little sticks you call arms’ll pull you even halfway to shore.”  He turned on his heel.  “I wash my hands of ye.”

“Wait!” Tierney snagged the back of his shirt.  “You’re right.  It’ll move much faster with two.”  She coiled the end of the tow line around a nearby dowel and waved a hand over the side.  “Get in.”

“Oh no,” Matthews shook his head, backing up another step.  “You want to dive into dangerous waters, you’re swimmin’ alone, little lady.”

“Oh come on, Matthews,” she stomped her boot upon the deck.  “You followed me up here, you’re obviously more interested in what I’m doing than any other going’s on, and two heads are better than one…”

“Tierney, I ain’t going to say it again…”

“Keoghan,” the determination in her tone dried his words on his tongue, her little hands fisting the blouse of his shirt.  “He’s off to negotiate the cargo… our cargo… and he said I ain’t got no place anywhere near the deal.”  Her blue eyes were wide with insulted despair and her plump lower lip thrust forward in a trembling pout.

“Don’t you even try startin’ the waterworks with me, there, missy,” he snapped abruptly, putting a halting palm between them.  “They never worked on your papa, they ain’t gonna work on me.  Besides,” he sniffed as she abandoned the pretense of misery, crossing her arms over her chest with a churlish frown, “that man you chose ‘as made a fair livin’ off pirating so far; I daresay he can close the contract damn fine on his own.”

“Mr. Matthews,” Tierney barked through gritted teeth, “get your scraggly arse over the side and into that boat!”

“I will not!” He moved toe to toe with her, using the slight inch and a half he held over her to as much advantage as he could.  “Now you know, on the Eagle, ain’t no one I’d step-to for faster’n you.  But we ain’t on the Eagle no more, and that be your choosin’.  We’re sailin’ stranger tides than ever we have, and you can fuss and fume all you like, but I be yieldin’ to the captain who’s navigated them a time or two, not this bratty little beast headin’ hell bent for fathoms because she’s got a peck of smartin’ pride!”

“Fine!” Tierney seethed, clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides.  “FINE!”  She turned back to the winch, tethering down the last of cables and straightening her sword at her side.  “Go.  Stay on the ship, shove off with the lads, whatever dips your wick.  I’ve worked too long and too hard to be left behind like some blasted barnacle clingin’ to the rudder.”  She swung her legs over the side, white-knuckling the ladder as she stared her mate down.  “I been takin’ care of myself just fine for years, I can bloody well take care of myself now.  And if not,” her stormy sapphire eyes flashed in challenge, “I’m sure I can find someone about willing to help a lady in distress.”

She ignored his muttered curses as she lowered herself into the boat, plopping onto the bench and checking the gates on the outriggers to make certain the oars were secure.  But before she could take up the handles, the vessel gave a lurch as Matthews dropped down beside her, grousing beneath his breath.

“Goddamned surly sot… served you a back-breakin’ ball-bustin’ twenty years… this be the thanks I get.  You bed down in a nice warm berth, never to be roused again, soft and sweet eternal slumber… and you leave me with this, this…”  He swatted Tierney’s hands away from the grips as he threw himself onto the bench opposite her.   “This hard-headed, mule-stubborn sprog of yours… ain’t got the sense that God gave a sponge – I got it, I got it,” he snarled as she moved to join him, knocking her pertly back down on her backside.  “Gonna get our necks stretched, you are, and your pretty pirate’s as well.  Hope that’ll make you happy…”

He continued to spit and sputter the length of the row, a low, rumbling undertone that Tierney found all too easy to ignore while she busied herself watching the approaching Norfolk shore.  As the water-weathered legs of the fisherman’s wharf approached, his diatribe came to a rather abrupt end, his mouth curling in a broad, artificial grin.  She quirked a quizzical brow, then rolled her eyes as he tipped a meaningful nod at the men sitting behind the broad desk at the end of the pier.

"Would you relax, Key, for Christ’s sake?  We ain’t carryin’ nothin, no cargo to declare.”  She held out her open palm with a withering stare.  “Harbormaster ain’t gonna take a second look.”

“Aye, you hope so,” Keoghan grumbled as he eased their tender into an empty spot between two other tiny skiffs, furrowing his forehead at her outstretched hand as he reached for the mooring line.  “What?”

Tierney crooked her fingers in a brisk “give me” gesture.  “He didn’t pay me, Key…”

The shillings made their way from Matthews’ pocket to Tierney’s palm to the till on the pier keeper’s table, and the pair headed down the dusty path towards the quietly bustling town.  Tierney’s head bobbed from side to side as she searched the crowds of passers-by, peered in the windows of shops and salons in search of Thomas and his trusted Scottish muscle.

“Just what, exactly, are you plannin’ to do once you find him, eh?” Keoghan asked, his own eyes scanning the faces that passed with wary regard.  “Gonna waltz right up and pinch the deal right out from under him?”

“No,” she muttered in distracted irritation.

“Gonna play the tardy trade partner, runnin’ behind schedule and rushin’ in to play catch up?”

“No!” She snapped, craning her neck to peek over the barrels stacked in front of a restaurant door.

“Well, bleedin’ Jesus, girl what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know, Key!”  The older man collided with her when she stopped abruptly in the middle of the walkway.  “I just… I just…”

“Oh, Tierney.”  Matthews caught her by the shoulders and turned her to face him, pulling her to the corner of the building so the rest of the world could pass them by.  “Look at me, child.”  He waited for her stormy blue eyes to find his, then offered her a small, paternal smile.  “I know you ain’t used to this, little lady.  You been callin’ the shots a very long time, maybe longer than you yourself know.  An’ it’s all been okay, been right as rain, because it was your papa’s world.  He worked very hard to teach you that world, the in’s and the out’s and the up’s and the down’s.”

Tierney heaved a heavy sigh, whipping her head to the side, but Matthew’s warm palm on her cheek turned her back.

“But we ain’t in your papa’s world anymore, little girl.”  He gave her a gentle shake.  “He’s a black flag sailor makin’ a black market deal.  Now, maybe congress of that ilk don’t look no different than the barter we’re used to, but maybe it does.  And maybe you plowin’ in like a summer surge ain’t the best idea.”

“Fine,” she sighed at last, shrugging off his hands before crossing her arms over her chest.  “What do you suggest?”

“I suggested you keepin’ your skinny arse on the ship as you was told,” Matthews grinned wearily, “but since we’re too far gone for that now…”

Merriman’s Dry Goods and Sundries wasn’t difficult to find; its wooden edifice stretched half the length of the street, decorated with bins and barrels and benches.  Tierney chewed absently on her lower lip as she watched patrons milling about the shelves and displays, until the crowd parted and her heart fluttered queerly in her chest.  Thomas’ lean form was slung casually against the counter, his head bent conspiratorially towards the man on the other side.  A stick-skinny fellow, he appeared to be listening with bland, polite interest, his bald pate shining as bright as the silver-rimmed spectacles he polished with his apron.  The captain’s burly Scottish companion stood a foot or so away, watching the comings and goings with aloof scrutiny; Tierney grabbed Matthews by the arm, ducking out of sight behind a post as his gaze swept their direction.

“Come on,” she hissed softly, taking a tentative step, then another, “there… behind those shelves…”

A moment later, the two were huddled side by side, peering around bolts of colorful calico fabric as Thomas and the shopkeep bantered back and forth over the sample bags now open on the countertop between them.  Merriman perched his glasses on the end of his needle fine nose, squinting at the grains that slid agreeably through his fingers.

“Fair and hearty, I do grant ye that,” he mumbled, lifting a pinch and inhaling a generous whiff.  “How’s the ground treated?  Cow?  Sheep?  Were there a method?  Or just free rangin’ shitters?”

Thomas’ broad grin faded just a hint, a brief shadow furrowing his brow before clearing once more.  “Well, sir, I can’t say I know exactly for certain.  But I do guarantee you this is some of the finest English wheat ye’ll ever lay eyes on.”

“Goddamn fool,” Tierney hissed between clenched teeth.  “’Tis Carraway’s pride, his manner of sow!  I could have told him…”

“Hush, girl,” Matthews elbowed her ribs.  “That damn voice of yours carries…”

“… yield around here ain’t near so plump.  And it’s all pretty damn dry,” Merriman continued, emptying his palm into the burlap and dusting it clean.  “Folk here still learnin’ the land, I suppose.”  He thumbed his lip a brief moment.  “I can offer ye 45 per.”

Tierney’s mouth snapped agape, and once again, Keoghan had to grab her shoulder to still her tongue in her head.

“Oh, begging your pardon, sir,” Thomas scruffed his fingers through his beard, “but I won’t surrender a sack for less than 60.”

“Is he out of his mind?” Tierney seethed.  “It’s worth 55, flat and fair… Christ, he’s going to sink the whole deal…”

“Tierney, will you shut up?” Matthews’s eyes flashed with worry.

“I can go maybe 50…” Merriman countered.

“And my mate and I here can go South towards Portsmouth, or inland towards Richmond,” Thomas dropped a cool wink.  “Not to put too fine a point on it, sir, I’m the only one carrying what many seek to buy…”

Merriman scowled, cast his eyes to the street.  “I could step out that door and rouse me a constable, have you in irons before you can spit…”

“You could do that, certainly,” Thomas hooked a thumb through his belt, “and you’d wear a matched set.”  He side-eyed the racks of linen and lace, the spools of silk thread and the barrels of tea, coffee and spice.  “I daresay ain’t much of your inventory gathered this side of the Atlantic.”  He leaned closer to the older fellow, dropped his voice a bit.  “And I daresay your neighbors won’t take very kindly to the notion that I ain’t the first pirate you’ve beckoned this way…”

A slow growing flush colored Merriman’s cheeks, and Tierney held her breath as she watched the two men stare each other down.  Finally, the merchant dropped his gaze to the samples once more, his tone soft but snide as he questioned Thomas’ asking price for the wool.

“Well, there you go, girl,” Matthews sniffed at the sight of pirate and proprietor sharing a handshake as few long moments later.  “Are ye satisfied now?  He’s offed the whole lot, and for more than we’d have even dreamed of asking.”

“You sound mighty proud there, Matthews,” she sulked.  “I’d never have taken you for a brigand at heart.”

“Don’t you be throwin’ that at me, there, missy,” the man puffed his chest, looking at her down his nose.  “You forget we be chasin’ what’s holding your heart.  You’ve a problem with that, you’re the one needs to cut bait.”

“Don’t remind me,” Tierney grumbled, straightening her back and craning her neck to check the path to the door.  “Coast clear ahead…”

“Aye,” a gruff voice from behind turned them both on their heels.  “Storm’s coming in from the stern,” Thomas towered over them both, his arms crossed over his chest.  “Best batten down.” 

Matthews muttered a curse under his breath, reflexively stepping between the captain and Tierney.  “Captain Hiddleston, sir, beggin’ your leave…”

“Oh, no, sir,” the younger man tutted, shaking his head, lightning flashing in his blue eyes as he nudged himself toe to toe with the lass, curling his lip at the stubborn cant of her chin. “I’m smart enough to know this little adventure weren’t your idea.”

“But Cap’n…”

“Mr. Matthews,” Thomas murmured, silky warning in his tone, “there’s a big, bustling town just beyond those doors, full of food and drink and soft, fair company.  I suggest you go and enjoy it.”  He plucked the tricorn hat from Tierney’s head, watching the thick coil of her braid tumble down her back before thrusting the felt into her hands.  “Leave this insolent little spitfire to me.”

“Go, Key, it’s all right,” Tierney urged, flipping a stray crimson lock from her brow with a toss of her head, her gaze never breaking from Thomas’ icy glare. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Matthews cut his eyes first to one, then the other, pawing his kerchief from his back pocket and swiping it briskly over the back of his neck.  He shuffled away, casting a mildly worried glance over his shoulder before pushing politely past a pair of shoppers mingling at the door.  In his wake, Tierney stood her ground beneath Thomas’ withering stare, the corner of her jaw ticking ever so slightly when he reached for her hand, squeezing her fingers roughly before tucking them into the crook of his elbow.

“Shall we?” He intoned darkly, sweeping a hand towards the exit.

The pair slipped easily out of the mercantile to stroll coolly down the street; Tierney let her eyes scan the passing crowds with detached curiosity. 

“If you’re waiting for an apology…”

“Actually, little redwing,” Thomas nodded courteously at a passerby, “the longer you hold that sharp little tongue of yours, the happier we’ll both be, I’m sure.”

She fixed her sight on a nearby colonist, watching as he saddled a broad-chested gelding, smiling tightly when he tipped his hat to her before mounting up. 

“You know, you acted as if my presence here would set off some manner of riot.  And yet…” she splayed the fingers of her free hand towards the peaceful activity that buzzed around them.

“And you behaved as if your absence would make the deal plum fall through,” Thomas hefted the purse at his hip with a grin, delighting in the way the clinking of the coins within set Tierney’s teeth on edge.  “And yet…”

“You know, you wouldn’t have had to haggle so hard had you brought me along proper,” she snapped.

“That weren’t no hard haggle,” Thomas laughed.  “And besides, where’s the fun in the barter if a man can’t flap his gums a bit?”

“It ain’t just flappin’ your gums if you got wisdom behind your words,” Tierney sassed, yanking her hand free from his arm and whirling on him in the street.

“Tierney,” his chuckle died in his throat, “settle yourself, girl…”

“You didn’t have the who’s and how’s back there, but I did!”

“Tierney…” Thomas stole a brief glance around the square, “mind your fucking tone…”

“You didn’t have the information would back your ridiculous asking price, but I did!”

“Tierney…” the word a deadly hiss between his teeth, “keep your voice down!”

 “Ye walked away an extortionist as well as a pirate,” she pressed on, undaunted, spitefully satisfied at the way he fell back a step, then another.  “Swaggerin’ about, so bleedin’ pleased with yourself.  Yet it ain’t once occurred to you that havin’ me in might’ve legitimized your offer a bit, helped you look like you maybe knew a thing or two about the goods you were schillin’, hell, might could’ve UPPED that haul you’re totin’ so proud…”

“Tierney…” Thomas’ one hand grabbed her elbow as the other fell to his belt, his fingers groping along the thick leather.

“You listen to me, Thomas William Hiddleston,” she poked a rough fingertip into his chest, “you may think you know everything about piratin’ but I know more’n a few things about this world myself, please and thank you, and if you think I’m too stupid to understand… Thomas!”

Her tirade dissolved into a gulp of shock when his grip on her tightened with murderous force, hauling her close before shoving her around the corner of the brick and mortar building beside them. Before she could gather breath to protest, Thomas had backed them both against its rear edifice, one arm deathly tight around her waist, the fist of the other holding the razor-honed blade of his dagger a hair’s breadth from the pulse now hammering in her throat.

“Shut your fucking mouth, girl,” his whisper a terrifying breeze in her ear.  “Not another goddamn word…”

“T-T-Thomas,” she stammered, her fingers digging into the tensed muscle of his forearm.  “P-p-p-please… I’m sorry…”

“TIERNEY,” the word edged in desperation, “for the love of CHRIST, shut up!”

She could feel his breath tearing in and out of his chest like a bellows, his beard scraping her cheek as he craned his neck towards the street. 

And then, very nearly too late, she saw them. 

Three.  Broad-shouldered with well-muscled arms in coats of rebel blue, necks as thick as chimney stacks and hands the size of prize market hams.  The tasseled finery that decorated the handles of their swords did nothing to diminish the threat of the well-sharpened steel below, and the light of the afternoon sun winked as merrily off the silver barrels and muzzles of the muskets they carried as it did off each of their polished brass buttons. 

“Oh…” she pressed herself back against the pirate, her arms curling around his.  “Oh, Jesus… please…”

The trio paused at the mouth of the alley, their burly chuckles echoing as one popped a match alight with his thumbnail.  He dipped the flame into the bowl of a handsome wooden pipe, and Tierney held her breath as the tobacco caught, as plumes of grey smoke tickled their way into the air.  The illegible drone of their conversation rose and fell before they resumed their stride, dusty gravel crunching agreeably under their soles. The smoker’s wrist flicked in an elegant arc, and the snuffed wooden stick landed just beyond the toes of Tierney’s boots, one tiny red ember winking up at her from the ground. 

Only once the soldiers were well out of sight did her strength fail her, and she sagged with a choked sob of guarded relief into Thomas’ embrace.  He kept her in a hostage hold as he pushed up from the wall; her feet dragged in the dust as he walked her in front of him, his grip relaxing only when he could see for himself that the danger, at least for the moment, had passed.

“You didn’t understand before,” he rasped into the sweat-dampened hair at her temple, “but you’re getting the point now aren’t you, ye brazen little brat?”

Tierney forced her legs to bear her weight, turning unsteadily to face the pale and shaken pirate now sheathing his knife with a slightly unsteady hand. 

“I’ve known a long time,” Thomas raked his fingers through his own tousled curls, “from the day I stripped bonny Jack from my mast, that I was takin’ a risk.  Knew what I could lose in the wake of the choice I was making - my frigate, my family, my freedom… my very life, should worst come to worst. And it’s always a chance I’ve been willing to take to sail free and give to those who’d work fair the due they’ve got coming.” 

He closed the small distance between them in a flash, his hands gripping her neck in an iron hold, and Tierney felt the burn of salt flood her eyes as she stared, stricken and silent, up into his.

“But I will not risk you, my pretty little redwing.  Not for silver nor gold, not for any damn thing under the sun.”  He crushed his mouth to hers, stealing the air from her lungs and leaving her trembling when he released her too soon.

“T-Thomas,” she mewled, burying her face in his chest.  She clutched desperately at the cotton of his shirt, all but certain he would let her crumple to a heap in the dust at his feet.  “I… I… I… I’m so sorry.”

Thomas stood rigid for a moment before softening his posture, winding his arms around her and holding her close.  He rocked her gently, side to side, stroking a finger along her cheek when she turned her face up to his once more.

“So am I, little redwing,” he sighed into her hair.  “So am I.  Come along,” he nudged her back on her heels, sweeping an arm to the street they’d retreated from.  “The sooner we start, the sooner it’s done.”

“Start?” Tierney’s brow creased as she watched him head that direction.  “Start what?”

A mist of quiet regret clouded his eyes, but the line of his back and the clench of his jaw were set, his voice was low and resolute.

“Am I not your captain, Tierney?”

An icy shiver skittered up her spine. “Y-you… you are…”

“And was my command in any way unclear?”

She could feel the bile burning its way to the back of her mouth; she swallowed it down and took a resolute breath.

“No.  It was not.”  She watched the weight of her reply settle about his shoulders, gave her head a brusque little shake.  “You… you can’t be thinking…”

“You disobeyed my orders, Tierney,” Thomas lifted his chin a notch.  “A thing I’ll not abide.  Now,” he gestured to the town around them getting ready to tuck in for the evening, “you’re welcome to seek safe harbor here.  Stay a spell, enjoy the new world, or you can find yourself other passage home.  But,” he took a step back closer to her, “if you plan on setting one foot on my Bronwyn again…”

The earth seemed to tilt a little beneath her boots as the unspoken resolution drifted on the air between them, making it thick and warm and difficult to breathe. Tierney’s eyes flashed fire at the quiet, unyielding authority in his stare, and for a long, quiet moment, she considered stepping forward to challenge his resolve. 

I’d stow that sass if I was you, wee one.  You raised your sheets… time for you to brave the winds…

Red’s voice in her head; she could almost feel the wiry-soft prickle of his beard against her temple.  Huffing an angry exhale over her teeth, she gave her head a toss, feeling her braid whip smartly about her waist.