#doncelalume

But Bonny had for years eluded pursuit. Indeed, it was generally known that she was the most desperate among the sailors , and was determined never to be taken or claimed by any man. Moreover, as she invariable worked through gallons of grog serving to men and women who knew nothing of her legacy and were scarcely acquainted with her appearance, they had but a slender clue to her identity. As a matter of fact, only one person beyond her immediate associate could have sworn to Bonny if they had met her face to face. One who had shot with his own hand before the eyes of her emerald eyes in order to reclaim her honour. It was through the other that Bonny had arrested herself to this individual for life.

It all happened in a distressingly commonplace, so far as the average spectator was concerned. But the story, which had been pieced together from the details supplied—by a certain young pirate captain named James Kidd, has an element of romance none are aware of.

It was a sunny morning, and everybody looked cheerful. Ladies were shopping, or looking in at shops, men about town were collecting an appetite for lunch, drink, or women; children selling trinkets for scraps. However on this bright and pleasant day, that a young lady was serving a busy table just across from a shady tree, dressed in a low exposed linen shirt  held up tightly by a waist corset and sleeves which she wore on a daily to her job. She was beautiful. Her hair so vibrant, red like a burning flame, and her smile more alluring than any goddess, set her beyond comparison with the commonplace.

Just outside the Tavern there was a slight stir, and a temporary block in the foot traffic. A cart was setting down, behind a carriage, and behind that, a group of soldiers, and as she glance round the heads of the few in the jam, she saw several others standing on the steps onlooking. Leaning back suddenly, she dipped into the shadows closest to the table of crimson sash sailor.

“Excuse me sir” she said, “would you mind--”

“I'll stay where I am” and the look in her eyes he noticed, as well as a certain sensations in the air about her, ensured her against further disturbance as he stood giving her his seat and protectively leaning down to cover.

A clean-shaven man, faultlessly dressed in a mustard coat and plenty of sashes, with a scarf loosely around his neck. He looked around for a moment in search of a convenient location to move. As he hesitated, the woman hesitated; but when he saw the chance, the woman followed him behind the tavern clearing the wondering eyes of armed men serving the crown. It is in the moment of privacy that a revelation of his indebted appearance enlightens him. His heart lacks control, beating sporadically at the closeness of such a beauty next to him. The way she smells of the sea and the flowers decorated in her hair made the sanity to keep his hands to himself a fight; he would give anything in that moment just to touch her chin, to press his nose and inhale deeply that of which defines her, kissing freckled cheeks until they blush whispering nonsense into her hears.

“Thank you” her voice snaps him back into reality. However it was her time to be in awe of her rescuer. Never had she seen a man so handsome as he. His dark eyes reflected her own like the black sea hugging the moon at night, while the scar down his face never deterred her from staring. Though, unlike he, she acted on her thoughts. Fingers traced along thin lines near his lips contemplating whether if she were to kiss them would it be soft or rough.

“What's your name?” she manages to breathe

“James” he caught her fleeing hand and gave a small kiss.  “and yours?”

“Anne”