Destined for the pirate Beta

She is late

*Raphael*

She is late. Checking my watch, I note she is a full three bloody minutes late. I resist the urge to pace the deck, to display any sign of concern that she might have reconsidered her decision. Should I have borrowed Stephan's coach and gone to escort her from her residence?

The fog thickens, distorting all sounds, casting an eerie feel over the ship. We have lit the lanterns already, yet they seem futile against the looming gray. Is it the weather keeping her away? She didn't seem the type to be so easily deterred. My judgment of character is usually sound, so why isn't she here?

A creeping doubt enters my mind. Has she finally realized my intentions? I wouldn't force her in any way, certainly not, but I would make every effort to seduce her.

But a woman loyal to a man for four years, she would surely resist my charms. She loves the scoundrel, that's clear. What kind of man could keep her heart while staying away?

Clearly, someone better than me, more deserving. Such a thought is unsettling, so I push it away. We made a deal, that's what matters, or at least, that is what I thought.

Regret gnaws at me. I should have claimed that kiss when I had the chance in her bedchamber. As a merchant, as a trader, I know the importance of p*****t upfront. p*****t first, services second; that has been my mantra since the beginning. Money first, so if the deal falls through, I'm not left empty-handed.

It seems like I am left with nothing from this...

That is not entirely accurate. I retrieve her glove from my pocket, caressing it between my fingers before lifting it to my nose.

After she pivoted towards the door, I took it from where she had discarded it. I'm not sure what drove me to do so, only that I desired it and am unaccustomed to denying my wants.

The fragrance of sweet lavender touched with a citrus note envelops me. I imagine it is a scent tailored for her. If it isn't, it ought to be. I can't remember ever inhaling it from any other woman.

What is this irrational fixation on her? Why do her actions matter to me, especially if she has proven herself a coward, if she has chosen not to embark on the journey?

I cast a glance at my timepiece once more. Five infuriating minutes. She is not coming. My crew is awaiting my command to venture out to sea. How am I to proceed now without appearing completely foolish?

I could depart, determining our destination at a later time. Alternatively, I could instruct my crew to stand down, and then I could disembark, hire a carriage, and confront the deceitful…

From within the intensifying mist comes the unmistakable rhythm of quick, resolute footsteps, a consistent beat reverberating off the dock's wooden boards. The steps of a woman, a petite woman, weighing around seven stones. Others follow, more distant.

The excitement bubbles up inside me, but I push it down. I can't afford to show her how thrilled I am to see her.

After all, she is lucky I haven't set sail without her. I shove my glove back into my pocket and, with practiced indifference, I stride across the quarterdeck, descend the steps to the main deck, and saunter down the gangway to the dock.

She is panting slightly as she arrives, her face slightly flushed under the dim dock lights. I almost grin at the thought of how much more flustered she will be when I claim that kiss.

"You are late," I manage to keep my voice steady, devoid of the delight I feel.

Her silvery eyes widens in surprise. "I daresay, not even ten minutes."

"Ships run on a schedule, sweetheart," I remind her.

She tilts her chin defiantly. "Yes, well, as I’m paying for this voyage, I expect it to run on my schedule. If you didn’t understand that was my purpose in hiring you, then perhaps I should look elsewhere."

I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. Trust her not to apologize. "Unfortunately, any schedule involving a ship is subject to tides and winds."

"Oh, my dear. Will we not be able to leave tonight?" There's an urgency in her voice, a desperation that I don't understand, but I don't question it. It suits my plans perfectly for us to leave as soon as possible.

Observing the dark-haired woman standing just behind Anne, I'm struck by her constant blinking, as if she is still processing her surreal surroundings. Likely Anne's maid or chaperone.

I shift my gaze to the two men handling Anne's trunk, and ask, "Are they accompanying you on the trip?"

"No, only the trunk," she replies.

In response, I gesture to Peter, our burly deckhand. "Peter! Get the miss' trunk on board."

"Aye, Captain," he affirms with a nod. Peter, a man of considerable strength, hoists the trunk from the servants as if it were filled with nothing heavier than feathers. As he brushes by, I murmur, "My cabin, Peter."

He grunts back, "Yes, sir," then trudges up the gangway.

"He doesn't sound pleased," Anne observes.

I chuckle, "He's a grumbler. You will get used to it. The men who are on board are here by choice. Those governed by superstition about women on ships stay behind."

"Will that cause any hardship for you?" she inquires, her brow furrowed in concern.

"For you, Princess, I would bear any burden or hardship," I respond, a hint of jest in my voice.

Her laughter rings out, a melodious sound that seems to dance around me, causing a momentary shiver. Could it be that she carries some Siren blood? I reckon I would willingly crash upon jagged rocks just to hear that pure, joyous sound again.

"You are not going to wait until we are at least on the ship before beginning your absurd flirtation?" she teases, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

I know she won’t surrender easily, I have always been aware of that. “Your words,” I tell her, “they pierce my heart like a dagger.”

“I doubt you can be so easily wounded, Captain,” she retorts, making me smile.

She has a quick word with the men who had come with her. When they depart, she gestures towards the woman who still stands by her side. “This is Martha, my maid. She will be joining us, of course.”

“Of course,” I respond, my voice smooth, “Allow me to escort you aboard.” I call for Jensen, and once the young lad arrives, I instruct him to accompany Martha up the gangway. I then offer my arm to Anne.

She lightly clasps the crook of my elbow. I lead her up the corridor, her touch sending sparks of anticipation up my arm. I had imagined Anne might tremble, perhaps due to my proximity, or maybe just the excitement of the journey. Instead, her demeanor grows more serious as she steps onto the deck.

“Peter, get us underway,” I command.

“Aye aye, Captain,” he replies, his voice strong.

As Peter bellows orders and men start bustling around the ship, I turn to Anne. “I will show you to your cabin.”

“I would rather stay out here while we leave,” she insists.

“As you wish,” I agree, "but let's get you out of harm’s way then. Up those steps.” I can't help but worry about her safety amidst the chaos.

I watch as she leads the way, her hips oscillating with each step. The deck of the Vengeance is a familiar sight, but it feels different with her on it. As we approach the edge, I can feel the looming presence of her ladies maid behind me. It irks me, but I say nothing, I know the rules of the high packs.

"Why The Vengeance?" she whispers.

"Beg your pardon?" I ask, confused by her sudden question.

"Why did you christen your ship The Vengeance?" she repeats. “I read that ships are usually named after women.”

I lean onto the railing, intertwining my fingers and looking down at the dark water below. Memories flood back, fueling a distant look in my eyes. "For a long time, the desire for vengeance gave meaning to my existence. Naming the ship The Vengeance seemed fitting for a vessel that would bring me immeasurable wealth."

"It's considered impolite to talk about wealth," she informs me.

"You asked," I retort, meeting her gaze. She is looking into the distance, clearly nervous about her upcoming rendezvous.

"Against whom did you seek Vengeance?" she pushes further.

"I'm not acquainted enough with you to disclose that story," I evade, choosing not to reveal too much.

"I presume you are a complex man, Captain," she observes.

"Not at all. When I see something I desire, I seize it. It's as straightforward as that," I tell her, feeling a chill run down my spine.

Her presence is making me feel things I haven't felt in a long time, and I don't quite know what to do with that.