“Okay, okay!” Daniel held up a hand. “Yer a fine spy. The finest spy I've come across.”

“If I were a fine spy, you wouldn't know I was a spy,” Trixie pointed out. “Not that I'm a spy.” She stopped. “Wait. Did that make sense?”

But Daniel was laughing too hard to answer.

“And how long, exactly, have ye known Captain James Frayne?” he finally asked when he had caught his breath.

Trixie sucked in a breath. “What do you mean?”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “I'm not without me sources,” he pointed out. “I know that ye have a connection to him.” He studied her, a look of amusement on his face. “Be he the lad ye can out-climb?”

Trixie tossed her hair defiantly. “And if he is?”

“Then he's not much of a tree climber.” Captain Mangan stood abruptly and walked around the table. He placed a rough hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump. “I like ye,” he said. “Yer a hard-worker, and I respect ye. But ye'll not be comin' away from here with any secrets to share with yer friend. Do we understand each other?”

Trixie narrowed her eyes. “You certainly think you know a lot, don't you?”

“Am I wrong?” Captain Mangan asked.

When Trixie didn't answer, he nodded, and sat back down. “There is one thing I don't know,” he said.

“Really?” Trixie asked in feigned astonishment. “And here I thought you were the all-knowing captain, aware of everything that goes on on your ship.”

“Well, that I might very well be. What I'm wondering now, is what yer full name be.”

Trixie looked up in surprise. “You suspect me of spying for Gingerbeard, and your most pressing question is my name?”

Captain Mangan shrugged. “I be a complicated man.”

“That's one word for it,” Trixie muttered.

“What was that?” Mangan asked. “I couldn't quite hear ye.”

The pert blonde shook her head. “Thank you for a lovely supper, Captain Mangan.” She laid her fork on the table and rose. “I think I'll get some fresh air.”

The Captain rose. “I'll accompany ye,” he stated.

Trixie started to protest, but stopped when she saw the grim set of Mangan's jaw. “You're determined to protect me, aren't you?” she asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

Mangan took her arm and ushered her up the steps. “From yerself, if no one else,” he retorted. “T'isn't wise to roam the ship after dark.” He decided against mentioning the fact that he wasn't at all sure that she wouldn't try to find some way of contacting Gingerbeard. He couldn't imagine how, but, still...

After speaking quietly to the man at the helm, Captain Mangan walked Trixie to the same railing they had stood at earlier in the day.

“The stars are bigger,” Trixie declared. “I'm sure of it. They never seemed so large back home. Or so bright!”

Mangan leaned against the railing and studied the night sky. “Yer right,” he agreed, his voice soft. “T'is almost a full moon. Be ye familiar with yon constellations?”

Trixie shook her head. “Only a few. My brothers tried to teach me, but...”

“But ye were busy climbing trees,” Mangan teased.

“Something like that,” Trixie agreed, laughing. Pointing, she said, “There. That must be a constellation.”

Mangan nodded and identified it. For the following hour, he pointed out every major constellation visible in the night sky. Trixie's enthusiasm never waned, and Daniel was astonished that she remembered everything he taught her.

“It took me months to be able to identify the stars ye've learned tonight,” he remarked. “Ye seem to be findin' them without half-trying.”

“You must not have had as good of a teacher as I have,” Trixie said, smiling shyly. She placed her hand on his arm. “Thank you, Captain Mangan.”

Daniel suddenly realized that they were standing very close together, and that they were completely alone. Even better, Trixie was neither stealing his private papers nor mocking him. Their eyes met.

“Yer a mystery,” he murmured, dipping his head close to hers.

“What?” Trixie asked, her voice breathless.

“Ye come on board me ship, dressed as a boy, and nearly kill yerself workin' the ropes. Ye steal back after swimming to shore and rummage through me papers. And now, ye stand here, dressed in yer brother's breeches and me own shirt, and I've never seen anyone lovelier.” His breath tickled her ear. “Yer, a mystery, Miss Belden,” he whispered.

His lips were mere inches from hers. He saw Trixie's eyes flutter shut as he moved in.

“Wait. Did you call me Miss Belden?”

The voice caught him off-guard. He eyed the young lady before him. “That be your name.”

Trixie's eyes narrowed to angry slits. “And how would you know that?”

Captain Mangan sighed as he realized that his window of opportunity had passed. He tried to take Trixie's arm, but she jerked away from him.

“I'd prefer to have this conversation below deck,” he said quietly. “For both our sakes.” He glanced around the deck. “This don't be a conversation I want me men to overhear.”

Trixie crossed her arms over her chest. “There's no one here.”

“Aye,” Mangan agreed, “no one aside from Esau at the helm, and the man coming up to relieve him.” The Captain nodded as a young man walked past them. The sailor did a double-take, his eyes on Trixie.

“This be a conversation best held in private,” he reiterated.

Trixie's accusing, mistrustful look had him biting back an oath. “Ye have nothing to fear from me, Miss Belden. I told ye before, I won't force myself on ye.”

Trixie's non-committal, “Hmmm...” was less than encouraging.

“Please?” he asked, suspecting that another direct order would only fall on deaf ears.

Trixie's irritation gave way to amusement. “That almost hurt, didn't it?”

“What?”

“Saying 'please',” Trixie said, her lips quirking in a grin.

Mangan took advantage of her apparent good mood and led her back to his quarters. “If ye tell me men, I'll deny it,” he warned.

Trixie laughed. “You're just lucky I like to see a man grovel.”

“And here I thought I was just being polite,” Mangan said wryly. He motioned for Trixie to take a seat before stationing himself at his desk.

“Y'er aware that I have private papers in me box,” he began.

Trixie's eyes drifted to the wooden box, her curiosity almost palpable.

“I take it that ye've been asked to acquire said papers,” Mangan said, his voice deceptively calm.

Trixie protested vehemently. “No one asked me to acquire anything,” she said.

Mangan studied her. “Then why...”

Trixie tossed her head. “I set my own agenda, Captain Mangan. And I do what I like with the information I acquire.”

“And what information do ye think ye'll be acquiring here?” he asked.

Trixie shrugged. “A treasure map?”

Mangan raised an eyebrow. “Try again, Miss Belden.”

Trixie fidgeted as the Captain refused to break eye contact. “I have three brothers that I love at sea,” she said, her voice low. She hesitated, then said, “You make the sea more dangerous for them.”

“Y'er out to rid the world of pirates in order to make the sea safer for yer brothers?” Mangan asked incredulously.

“It's not as hair-brained as it sounds,” Trixie said, temper flaring. “It's not as if I was planning to fight you. I just thought that I would sneak on board, figure out where you're heading next, and...”

“And pass along the information to a good family friend who is in a position to do something about it,” Mangan concluded. “Does Gingerbeard know the risks yer takin'?” He frowned. “Did he ask ye to do this?”

If Captain Mangan thought he had seen Trixie's temper earlier, he soon found out it had only been a taste. Fists clenched, she glared at him.

“His name is Captain James Winthrop Frayne, and he is an honourable man,” Trixie said, her voice scathing. “He would never ask me to put myself in danger.” She planted her hands on her hips. “And I certainly don't need a man to direct me. I'm fully capable of making my own decisions.”

Mangan chose to focus on his rival captain rather than Trixie's independence. “But the good captain doesn't have a problem reaping the benefits of your investigations. I imagine that he hopes to determine what me course is, and intercept. Am I right?”

“Well, to tell you the truth...” Trixie's face coloured. “I've never actually done this before. I was just kind of hoping to find something useful.”

“Something that would help Gingerbread put me in jail.” Mangan's voice was carefully neutral, but Trixie reacted as if she had been slapped.

“You're a pirate, Captain Mangan! It's not exactly unreasonable of me to want to see you brought to justice.” Her voice was defiant, but Mangan could tell that she was trying to convince herself more than him.

Daniel pressed his lips together. He stared at the carved wooden box several moments before saying, “Not everything is as it seems, Miss Belden.”

Trixie plopped back down into her chair. “You attack other ships and steal from them. What's confusing about that?”

Captain Mangan's eyes were shuttered. “Enough that I'll ask ye to keep yer thoughts regardin' me nefarious activities to yerself.”

Trixie tilted her head to the side and studied the Captain in a way that had him fighting the unaccustomed urge to squirm in his seat. The lady was entirely too intelligent, he thought. More disturbing still was the urge to relieve himself of the secrets he shared with no one.

He turned away. Captain Mangan was not a man to give in to his urges. “Ye can have me bed,” he said, thrusting aside all other thoughts. “I'll take the trundle.”

Without looking at his guest, Mangan pulled out the rolling bed that tucked underneath his bed. “If ye'd like something else to sleep in, ye can have a nightshirt of mine.”

Trixie accepted the coarse white garment he handed her, holding it awkwardly to her chest.

Mangan sighed. “If I were goin' to take advantage of ye, I would have done it already.”

Trixie's blush deepened. “I'm sorry,” she said. “You've acted like a gentleman, I know. I'm just kind of...shy.”

“Shy?” Mangan questioned, his tone incredulous. “You?”

“About certain things, yes. Now, are you going to turn around, or are we going to stand here all night?”

Captain Mangan complied, turning away to leaf through the papers on his desk.

“Finished,” Trixie proclaimed after only a few minutes.

Mangan looked up from the papers he had been shuffling. His eyes raked her from top to bottom, taking in the oversized shirt which hung loosely on her small frame. The night shirt came to a few inches below her knees, revealing well-shaped calves. He swallowed as his gaze drifted upward, finally reaching her eyes.

“Captain,” she whispered, and, for the first time, Daniel began to think that perhaps he was having an effect on her, as well.

“Mornin' comes early aboard the Straight Arrow,” he said, his voice thick. “We'd best be getting' some shut-eye.”

He watched as she drew back the worn sheet and threadbare blanket on his bed, then slipped under the covers. Her blonde curls spilling over the lone pillow, she asked, “Aren't you going to bed?”

He dropped down onto the small trundle bed. It was going to be a long night.

And tomorrow was going to be an even longer day. He couldn't put it off any longer. If he didn't take care of the orders in the wooden box, he wouldn't get another chance.

He closed his eyes, but sleep didn't come easily. It wasn't long before he could hear that Trixie was fast asleep. Her breathing was deep and even, the sound somehow soothing. Captain Mangan listened to the sound, and, for the first time, discovered something more peaceful than the gentle splash of water against the side of the boat.

The next morning the sun greeted the horizon with a blaze of intensity. Captain Mangan stood at the helm with First Mate Esau.

“We set a new course today,” Mangan told him.

Esau nodded. “It be time.”

They continued to speak in low voices, the sound drowned out by the early-morning comings and goings common to any ship. When all were at their posts, Captain Mangan addressed the crew.

“Our course has been set,” he told them, his voice strong with authority. “And at the end of the course, there be battle. Prepare yerselves,” he warned.

The crew sent up a raucous cheer, brandishing their weapons. Captain Mangan smiled despite the tension he was under. His hand-picked crew was brave, and dedicated. What more could a pirate captain ask for?

Several minutes after the announcements, Trixie appeared above deck.

“Ye've decided to join us, then,” Mangan teased, his dark eyes noting Trixie's sleep-tousled curls.

“It's a beautiful day,” she said, “and your crew is, um, boisterous.” She looked around her curiously, and Captain Mangan wondered if she could feel that the ship and her crew now had a strong sense of purpose.

She moved to stand closer to him. “Where are we going?” she asked, her blue eyes snapping with curiosity.

Captain Mangan smiled and gestured to the expanse of blue sea. “Do it matter? It be a beautiful day.”

Trixie's eyes sparkled, and Mangan could practically feel the excitement radiating off her.

“So, what now?” she demanded. “What do I get to do?”

Mangan studied her clothing. She was dressed in precisely what she had worn the previous day—her brother's breeches and Mangan's shirt. He stopped before he could wonder about what she was wearing underneath. It did not escape his notice, however, that she was no longer binding her chest.

“That depends,” he said, his voice sly. “What would ye like to do?”

Trixie took one look at his jocular face and burst into laughter. “You wouldn't be propositioning me, Captain Mangan, would you?”

Daniel chuckled with her. “Only if I thought it would work,” he said with a wink. “Seriously. Ye did a fine job in the crow's nest yesterday. Would ye like to attempt it a second time?”

Trixie's eyes lit with enthusiasm. “I'd love to!” She narrowed her eyes. “You're not going to follow me to the top again, are you?”

Mangan grinned. “I take care of me crew,” he said, and ignored the roll of her eyes.

At least I know she won't cause trouble in the crow's nest, Mangan reasoned as he followed her up. There are no papers for her steal, no crew members to interrogate... Not that his crew had anything to tell her. As far as the majority of the sailors knew, the Straight Arrow was exactly what she appeared to be.

He wasn't sure whether or not to hope that Trixie was more than she appeared to be.

Several hours later, a rough cry brought Captain Mangan to the prow. A sturdy sailor pointed out to sea. “We're closin' in,” the sailor said, his voice taut with excitement.

“Aye, that we be.” Captain Mangan began issuing orders at a furious rate. Within moments, the crew was armed to the teeth and in a state of deceptively calm readiness. Leaving the crew in the capable hands of First Mate Esau, Mangan descended the steps to his quarters. He found Trixie at the table, poring over his maps. Her head jerked up when he entered the room.

“Maps,” she said, by way of explanation. “I didn't go snooping through your papers,” she told him.

“I know,” Mangan grinned. “I moved them.”

Trixie let out her frustration in a loud huff. “I'm beginning to think you don't trust me.”

“I can't imagine why I wouldn't,” Captain Mangan said, a sardonic edge to his tone. “Fancy, me not trusting a stowaway who has a connection to a powerful and wealthy enemy.” He moved to stand beside her chair. “I'll ask ye to keep below deck for the next while. We be runnin' into some...” he paused, “turbulence.”

Trixie frowned and peered out the porthole. “It's sunny.”

“There be more than one kind of turbulence,” Mangan said, “and this be the kind that ye don't want to be a part of.”

Trixie's eyes grew wide. “You're going to attack a ship!” She tried to push past him, but he caught her arms and held her firmly.

“As I said, there will be some turbulence.” His gaze softened. “It won't be pretty. Believe me, ye don't want to be witnessin' it.”

“I'll decide that for myself, thank you very much,” Trixie said tartly, her gaze still on the door.

“I be the captain of this vessel,” he reminded her. “And I'm askin' that ye stay below deck.”

Trixie narrowed her eyes. “You're not ordering me?”

Mangan sighed. “I'd like to. Believe me; I'd like to.” He met her eyes. “I have no desire to see ye hurt,” he told her, with more emotion than he had intended.

“And I have no desire to see me hurt, either!” Trixie exclaimed.

“Then ye'll stay here?” he asked.

The struggle she felt was evident. She was curious by nature, and deliberately staying out of the fray went hard against that nature.

“For now,” she finally said.

“Thank ye.” Captain Mangan turned and left, wondering exactly when he had abdicated his authority as captain and had been reduced to politely asking people to do as he asked. Not that that was much different than how he treated his crew. Still, he rarely gave orders his crew didn't want to hear. He thought about Trixie's statement that she would stay out of the fray “for now,” and groaned.

“Men,” he said when they were gathered around him, waiting for orders, “today we be in a hurry. Ye know what to do. Disable the ship, take anything of value, and do not let a single one of them aboard this vessel. Are ye with me?”

The crew roared its approval, brandishing weapons. Captain Mangan raised a fist, the excitement of battle coursing through him. “To the prize!” he cried, his voice mingled with those of his men.

Within a few moments, they were near enough to the other vessel to see its colours clearly. “Arr. It be another French vessel,” First Mate Esau said, spitting his contempt.

“Then we'll have no reason to try to reason with them,” Captain Mangan said, his tone light. “Remember, bring us alongside so we can board easily.”

His eyes on the intended victim, First Mate Esau grunted. “That may be harder than ye think,” he said. He pointed at the other ship. “They've changed direction.”

Captain Mangan observed the action on the deck of the French ship. “They be preparin' fer battle.”

“As they should,” First Mate Esau rejoined. “For that's what they'll be getting.”

After a few tense moments, Esau had the Straight Arrow as close as she was going to get to the other vessel. The cries of the men on both ships were blood-thirsty and savage as the race to board the other vessel began.

Swinging from ropes, the crew of the Straight Arrow dropped down onto the deck of the French ship with the thundering weight of a cannon. With a flash of teeth and blade, the men set to the ugly work of war. The cloying stench of sweat and blood hung in the air, filling their mouths with an acrid taste.

Captain Mangan fought alongside his men, his dark eyes flashing with resolve. He fought his way to the captain of the other vessel, a lean, hard man in his early forties. The French captain fought with skill, but little stamina, and he was soon bested by the younger pirate captain. With a final flick of his wrist, Captain Mangan drove home his blade.

“Strike the colours!” Captain Mangan cried, and a cheer went up from the crew of the Straight Arrow.

Disheartened by the loss of their captain, the crew of the French ship gave little resistance. The French colours came down, and the Jolly Roger went up. With a final cheer, Captain Mangan's sailors returned to the Straight Arrow, leaving the French sailors behind. First Mate Esau eased away from the other ship.

Mangan gave the signal, and the men scrambled to obey. Within seconds, the canons fired, and the flaming French ship began to take on water. First Mate Esau barked orders, and the Straight Arrow pulled away from the burning boat. The men at the oars laboured for a short while, and then all came above deck to watch the other vessel burn.

“The dinghies have been deployed,” a sailor said, training a telescope on the open water.

Captain Mangan nodded, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Keep them in sight as long as ye can. We'll follow shortly.” With a last look at the horizon, he strode purposefully to his quarters.

“Miss Belden,” he called, knocking once. When there was no answer, he eased the door open. He swore under his breath at the sight of the empty room. Cold fear, such as he had not felt in years, clutched at him.

“Miss Belden,” he called again, taking the steep stairs three at a time. “Where are ye?” The normal sound of sailors at work stopped briefly, then resumed in a slightly subdued fashion.

“Trixie!” Even he could hear the desperation in his voice. His eyes searched the deck, hoping to spot her head of unruly curls.

“Up here.”

He almost missed the quiet voice. His head snapped up, and he saw Trixie peering down at him from the crow's nest. A wave of relief washed over him, and Mangan realized how worried he had been.

“Come down, please, Miss Belden,” he said, lips pressed together in a thin line. He hadn't meant for her to see the fighting.

Trixie's red face peered down at him. “I...I think I'd rather stay up here for a little longer.”

Captain Mangan frowned. He started to argue, but bit back the words when he saw that her face was green underneath her blush, and that she did not look entirely steady. Heart heavy, he climbed up to her. Neither the blush nor the pallor had abated by the time he dropped into the basket beside her.

The silence stretched.

“Ye've witnessed that which many people go their whole lives without seein'.” Mangan's voice was quiet.

Trixie nodded, staring at her hands. “You were right,” she said. “It wasn't pretty.”

Mangan leaned back against the basket, his shoulder touching hers. “T'is downright ugly, and I'm sorry that ye've seen it.”

“I didn't expect--” Trixie looked at him for the first time, and he winced at the change in her eyes. “The blood, the screams...” She bit her lip. “How do you do this? How does anyone do this?” she demanded.

Mangan took his time. “We all have our reasons, Miss Belden. Some good, some bad. And it's never easy.”

Trixie nodded, and went back to staring at her hands. “Captain Frayne told me that your parents were lost at sea when their ship was attacked by pirates.” She continued to gnaw her lip while studying him.

Mangan kept his eyes trained on the horizon, his emotions hidden. “T'is true.”

“He's an orphan, too, you know,” Trixie continued. “His father, Captain Frayne, went down with his ship. And his mother died of a fever a few years later.”

“Y'er well acquainted with the Captain, then,” Mangan observed.

Trixie's pallor had lessened, but the blush returned in full force. “I met him when he was adopted by my neighbours.”

“Captain Frayne was lucky to find a good home.”

“What did you do when you lost your parents?” Trixie asked.

Mangan shrugged, and found himself curiously willing to answer the question. “I ran away to sea.”

“That's when you became a pirate?” Trixie asked, curiosity animating her face.

Mangan smiled. “That be a funny story. I almost stowed away on a Navy vessel. I was this close,” he gestured with his fingers, “to a career with yer brothers.”

Trixie's eyes widened. “Why didn't you?”

Mangan shrugged, his dark eyes inscrutable. “The pirate shipped looked more interestin'.”

Trixie glanced down at the ship below them. “I can't argue there. There's definitely something...mysterious about a pirate ship.”

“It be the danger,” Mangan smiled. “Ye may not like it, but there's always a certain attraction to danger.”

Trixie surveyed him narrowly from the corner of her eye. “You wouldn't be teasing me, would you?”

“Teasing?” Mangan tipped her chin. “Never. Are ye feelin' better?” he asked.

Trixie nodded. “I don't know what came over me. I don't get squeamish about anything. Back home I help with butchering, birthing, and all sorts of things, but this...”

“This is completely different,” Mangan assured her.

“My brothers see this every day, too,” Trixie said, and Daniel saw that she wasn't quite ready to return to the ship.

“Aye, I imagine that they do,” he agreed.

“And then they come home and act as if...”

“As if it's nothing out of the ordinary. Tell me, do they regale you with tales of their exploits?”

Trixie shrugged. “Sure. How they play tricks on the other sailors, how exciting the storms are, how brave they are...” Trixie rolled her eyes. “My middle brother has a healthy ego.”

“And what about the good Captain Frayne?” Mangan asked.

“He tells me about the beautiful cities he visits,” Trixie said, her voice wistful.

“But none of them tell ye much about the battles.”

Trixie shook her head. “Now I know why. What are you supposed to say, after seeing something like that? After doing something like that?”

Daniel nodded. “There be no words for it. No words worth speakin', that is.”

To his surprise, Trixie placed her hand in his. They sat silently, watching the brilliant blue of the sky and sea.

“Thank you,” Trixie said, rising. “I think I'm ready to go on deck now.”

Mangan nodded, stirring himself from a thoughtful stupor. “I'll go first, and ye can follow.”

Trixie wrinkled her nose, but the Captain had already begun the descent. When they reached the deck, First Mate Esau immediately approached Captain Mangan.

“There be another ship,” he said, but there was no surprise in his voice.

“Aye,” Mangan agreed, peering through the telescope. He turned to Trixie. “We be encountering rough seas again directly. Would ye be so good as to stay below deck?” Though his words were crisp, his tone was kind.

Trixie swallowed hard and nodded.

“Thank ye,” he said softly. “I'll come for ye as soon as the storm has passed. I'd like to be able to find ye this time.”

Trixie nodded. With a last look to the open sea, she shut herself in the Captain's quarters.

With a sigh, Mangan turned back to the First Mate.

“Be she French?” he asked, referring to the second ship.

“I can't see her flag, but she picked up the sailors from the other ship,” Esau replied.

“She's the ship we're lookin' for, then.”

Once again, Mangan shouted orders to the crew. They approached the other ship swiftly, as the element of surprise was no longer an option. The crew of the bested ship would have informed the new ship of the Straight Arrow's presence. Indeed, the new ship was already preparing to engage in battle.

“To yer stations,” Mangan shouted, and the men cheered. “As before, take every weapon ye can find. Strip the ship of anything of value. Coin, papers, personal effects...we want it all.”

Waiting was the hardest part, Captain Mangan reflected, as the two ships sailed toward each other. The battle was imminent. Both sides knew it. Each man had his hand on his weapon, and his focus on the fight. Without looking at the men around him, he knew that they would have their eyes on the prize.

A sudden shout from a sailor with a telescope roused him. “They be turnin',” he warned.

Mangan grimaced, and gave his own orders to change course. As he had suspected, the French ship let loose a canon. It fell short, but conveyed the intent of the other vessel. This would be a serious fight.

Though the wait seemed interminable, they eventually came alongside the other ship. “Board!” Captain Mangan ordered, and his men hurried to comply.

In a stroke of luck, they managed to board the other ship, the Fleur de Lis, before any of the French sailors could come aboard the Straight Arrow. The fighting was fast and furious, feuled by the knowledge that Captain Mangan and his crew had bested and destroyed another ship only hours earlier. Mangan knew that many of the sailors on the Fleur de Lis had been aboard the other vessel, and were now fighting not only for their lives, but for honour, and revenge.

Captain Mangan fastidiously fought his way to the captain's quarters. It wasn't easy. Each man wanted to be the one to bring down the infamous Scourge of the Sea. And since disarming and wounding men took more time and skill than simply dispatching them, Mangan was panting by the time he reached the quarters.

Throwing open the door, he found the Captain of the Fleur de Lis. The young man looked up sharply when Mangan barged into his quarters. His hand flew to his sword as he left off gathering the papers strewn on his desk.

No words were exchanged.

The clang of steel on steel rang in the tiny room, and both men were reduced to kicking over chairs and shoving other articles out of the way. Each one hoped to avoid tripping over obstacles and to cause his opponent to stumble. They fought furiously, both of them panting and grunting.

With a mighty heave, Mangan tipped the heavy oak desk in the centre of the room, and papers went flying. The captain of the French vessel cursed, and Mangan pressed his advantage. With a sharp rap to the head, he rendered the momentarily distracted captain insensible.

Sliding his sword back into the scabbard, Mangan quickly gathered the papers that littered the floor. Neither man had drawn blood, so the papers were not stained, but they were crumpled from being trampled. Hastily thrusting the papers inside his shirt, Mangan exited the captain's quarters, slamming the door closed behind him.

The sun had dipped below the horizon in the short interval he had been below deck. Men still fought, but the deck was strewn with stricken sailors, and enthusiasm was waning. Mangan joined in the fray, encouraging his men to finish the job, but the sky had darkened to twilight before the last of the French crew had been subdued.

“Back to the Straight Arrow!” Captain Mangan cried, and the men obeyed eagerly, after giving final parting shots to their opponents. “Our work here is finished.”

When the fighting stopped, however, a curious sound greeted the men. The bite of steel on steel and the grunt of struggling men could still be plainly heard, though all fighting on the Fleur de Lis had stopped. With one accord, the men turned to the Straight Arrow. Mangan's worst fears were confirmed when he saw that a handful of sailors were fighting on the deck of his own ship. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed a line and thrust himself back to the Straight Arrow.

“With me!” he called. His crew obeyed, motivated afresh by the sight of their ship in peril.

Mangan swung aboard the ship, his heart in his throat. With the majority of his crew returned from the Fleur de Lis, they quickly dispatched the French attackers. Without wasting a moment, Captain Mangan hurried to his quarters.

“Miss Belden!” he called, opening the door with so much vigour it was nearly ripped from its hinges.

The room was silent, but not empty. Miss Belden, chest heaving, stood over the body of a French sailor.

“Trixie.” Mangan's voice was soft, but desperate. “Are ye hurt?”

Trixie looked up, her blue eyes wide. She nodded, her movements jerky.

As they stared at each other, a small, reddened dagger fell from Trixie's grasp. The clatter seemed to rouse both of them from their shocked stupor.

Daniel crossed the room swiftly. In one motion he kicked the dagger out of sight and clasped Trixie's shaking hands. “It's all right,” he said. “Y'er all right.”

Trixie nodded, her eyes resting on the man on the floor. “Is he dead?” she asked, her voice low and tremulous.

Mangan let go of her hands and knelt over the body. When he turned him over, they could see that his chest was stained with red-black blood. Wide and vacant eyes stared up at them.

Mangan dropped the body and stood. “He won't be botherin' ye again,” he said.

Trixie nodded, her eyes still fixed on the dead sailor.

“Trixie.” Mangan's voice was soft, but persistent. “Look at me.” When she did not comply, he moved to stand directly in front of her. “Trixie.”

Trixie raised her head slowly, and Mangan watched her resolve crumble. Her perfect blue eyes, the colour of the sea and sky, clouded. Instead of a vacant stare, Daniel could see the reflection of agony in them, and he felt terror anew.

“Y'er alive,” he told her sternly, and she nodded mutely. “Y'er alive, and that's all that matters. Y'er all right.” More to convince himself than her, he took her by the arms. “Y'er goin' to be jest fine.”

“He's dead.” Trixie's voice was hollow, and cracked at the end.

Daniel closed his eyes. It was a terrible thing to take a person's life. It didn't matter if it was justified or not. It was a terrible thing.

Trixie turned her face up to search his eyes. “I killed him.”

Mangan nodded.

Like a deflated balloon, Trixie sagged suddenly, and Mangan caught her. Holding her fast, he murmured low words in her ears. He felt a stab of relief as she pressed herself against him, relying on him for comfort. “Y'er all right. That be all that matters.”

Trixie shook her head against his shoulder, and Mangan could feel the tears flowing down her face.

Mangan pulled back just far enough to look in her eyes. “It be all that matters to me,” he said roughly. With a calloused, work-roughened thumb he wiped the tears from her cheeks. Trixie continued to stare up at him wordlessly.

He knew that he was holding her too close. He shouldn't be close enough to feel every contour of her body pressed against his. He shouldn't be close enough to hear the delicate whisper of her breath. And he definitely shouldn't be close enough to inhale the scent of her.

But he was.

Trixie's eyes changed again, and became filled with something other than terror. She placed her hand on his, her fingertips just grazing his skin. Holding her chest close to his, he could feel her breathing become shallow. When her lips parted, he hesitated, but Trixie pressed herself even closer to him, and he was lost.

His head dipped to hers, his lips grazing hers. The touch was slight, but hardly gentle, for neither of them were feeling patient. The world seemed to stop as they broke apart to stare at each other wordlessly, and then she was returning his kiss, exploring him, encouraging him. Unable to think of anything but the beautiful woman in his arms, Daniel placed his hands on her hips and backed her against the far wall of his quarters. His hands roamed freely over her coarse shirt and breeches, but it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

“Cap'n!” Both Captain Mangan and Trixie jumped as they heard the voice. Mangan swore softly when he saw Trixie focus her attention on the person behind him. She tried to remove herself from his arms, but he held her firmly.

Without turning, he snapped, “What?”

“Er, we just thought you ought to know that we've taken care of the French,” First Mate Esau said. “And we're waitin' on orders for the firin' of the cannons.”

If he hadn't been so frustrated, Mangan would have laughed at the awkwardness in his first mate's voice. “I'll be right there,” he promised.

Esau turned to leave, but Mangan held up a hand to stop him, even as he turned back to Trixie. Without a word, he traced the contour of her cheek, and watched her breathing quicken. Before he could change his mind, he turned on his heel and reached down to grasp the dead sailor's upper body. He nodded to Esau, who took the legs. Together, they wrestled the body out of cabin, while Mangan wrestled with his thoughts.

Once on deck, he drove all distractions from his mind. Mangan looked to his men. “Ye've removed all personal effects from the ship?” he asked.

They nodded.

“We've left no one behind?”

“Nary a one,” Esau answered.

Mangan nodded. “Good work, men. I'm proud of ye.” He looked out to sea. “Pull away to a safe distance, and then fire. We sink the Fleur de Lis.”

The men hastened to obey. Captain Mangan stood by Esau, overseeing the work. By the time the first canon fired, Trixie was at his side. All eyes were on the Fleur de Lis as she burned and sank. No one spoke.

When the spectacle was over, Mangan nodded at a barrel of ale. “Ye've done yer duty and more today, men. It be time to celebrate!”

A roar went up from the crowd, and the sailors swarmed, clustering around the ale. Mangan drifted away from the crowd, drawing Trixie with him.

“I have a bottle of very fine whisky in me quarters,” he told her, his voice low. He glanced at the men, who were already becoming boisterous. “Ye don't want to stay here.”

Trixie glanced toward the cabin, face flushing.

“I've papers to read through,” Mangan said briskly in an attempt to allay her fears. “Ye'll not be in me way.”

“Of course,” Trixie stammered, her blush depeening.

“And I'd appreciate yer company,” he continued.

“My company.” Trixie worried her bottom lip.

Mangan sighed inwardly, then had to ask himself why it bothered him that she didn't trust him. By all rights, he should be the one keeping her at arms' length. And yet, he trusted her. “Yer safe, Miss Belden. I give ye me word.”

They walked to his cabin, giving the revelling sailors a wide berth. “They be a good lot,” Captain Mangan said. “Loyal.” They watched as a few men began butchering a sea chanty. “They be terrible singers,” Mangan acknowledged, “but loyal.”

Trixie giggled as the tune went further and further off key, and the lyrics more and more off-colour. Captain Mangan opened the door of his cabin and ushered her in, then sighed when he saw the amount of papers that had been added to his desk.

“It appears that the French captain kept careful records,” he said. “I'll be a while sortin' through this.”

Trixie looked at him in surprise. “You took papers from the ship?” She looked over his shoulder. “And you read French?”

“Mmm...” Mangan was already engrossed in the papers, but he paused to wink at her. “I be a complicated man.” Sighing, he settled himself at the desk. “Ye'll excuse me. It be imperative that I read these as soon as possible.”

Poring over maps, log books, and correspondence, Captain Mangan lost track of the time. When he paused from his reading to stretch, he noticed that Trixie was studying one of his maps, her brow furrowed. The Captain rolled his shoulders to release some tension, then moved to stand beside his guest.

“I don't understand,” Trixie said, frowning.

Mangan passed a weary hand over his brow. “Don't understand what?” he asked.

“This.” Trixie tapped the map. “Your course makes no sense. I thought pirates just sort of wandered around the sea, hoping to run into someone to steal from.”

Mangan raised his eyebrows, but didn't argue with her assessment.

“But your course looks as if...” She looked up at him curiously. “It's almost as if you know where the ships are going to be.”

“Of course I know where the ships are going to be,” Mangan said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I'm Captain Daniel T. Mangan, Scourge of the Sea.”

Trixie snorted indelicately.

“Ye doubt me?” Mangan teased.

Trixie's response was cut short by a yawn.

“Ye've had a long day,” Mangan observed. “Why don't ye lie down?”

Trixie looked at the bed, her eyes fearful.

“I'll leave ye alone, if that's what ye want,” Mangan offered.

Trixie shook her head. “That's not it. I mean, that is it, sort of, but it's not what I meant.”

Captain Mangan paused. “Er...” Complicated sea charts, he could understand. Whatever language Trixie was speaking, he could not.

Trixie laughed briefly, then sobered. “What I mean is...” She sighed. “I'm kind of scared to go to sleep.”

Mangan studied her. “Ye've had a rough day.”

Trixie nodded, and Mangan had a suspicion that she was close to tears. Stacking the papers in a precise pile, the Captain set aside his work. “I be tired meself. Why don't ye put on yer nightshirt while I tidy up.”

Mangan had only started to tidy the next set of papers when he heard a small gasp. He looked up and saw Trixie staring at her shirt. “What is it?” he asked, when she made no move.

“It's nothing,” she said, her voice shaking.

Daniel strode across the room to her. “Show me,” he said, fearing that she had injured herself.

“It's just...” Trixie looked up, and Daniel could see the fear in her eyes. She gestured to her clothing. “There's blood on my shirt.”

Mangan looked at the shirt and saw a small area with blood spatters. He held Trixie's shaking hand for a moment, then slipped the shirt from her shoulders. “I'll get ye a clean one in the mornin'.” Studiously avoiding looking at her minimally clothed form, Mangan handed her a nightshirt and turned away while she slipped it over her head. “It washes out jest fine.” What he did not tell her was that it would never completely be washed from her memory.

Chances were good she had already figured that out for herself.

An hour later, Mangan was still listening to Trixie toss and turn.

“What be the problem, Miss?” he asked, raising himself on one elbow and staring up at her from the trundle bed. The room was illuminated by the light of the stars from the port, but not enough that he could make out her features.

He heard a disgruntled sigh.

“Can't sleep?” he asked. When Trixie didn't answer he continued. “Or won't?”

Though the room was dim, he could clearly see the glare she sent in his direction. “This is all your fault,” she accused.

Mangan raised a brow. “Probably. But what exactly are we talkin' about?”

“I can't sleep!” she exclaimed, frustration causing her to move jerkily. “Too much excitement, I suppose. I'm blaming that on you.”

Mangan grinned. “I've been accused of a lot of things. This be a new one.” He paused. “Hmm... Keeping young ladies awake at night due to excessive excitement... I kind of like the sound of that.”

Because of the dim lighting, the captain did not see the pillow until it was too late to prevent it from connecting with his head. He kept the pillow, fluffing it and placing it on his bed. “I'll thank ye for the pillow. It will make my sleep ever so much more comfortable,” he teased.

“You're impossible. Do you know that?” Trixie asked.

Mangan snorted. “I've no doubt ye've been told the same thing yerself on an occasion or two.”

“Maybe once or twice,” Trixie allowed. “That doesn't change the fact that you're impossible.”

“True. Which particular impossibility of mine is givin' ye difficulties tonight?” Mangan asked, laying back down with his hands tucked behind his head.

“Which one isn't?” Trixie demanded.

“Ah, me personal charms. They give trouble to plenty of ladies.”

If he didn't know better, Mangan would have sworn that he could see her rolling her eyes.

“You flatter yourself, Captain Mangan,” Trixie replied tartly.

“Aye, well, someone has to.”

Trixie sighed. “It's not you.”

“The flatterer? Well, no, usually not. But, when need serves...”

“No. I mean, you're not the reason I can't sleep. Well, you're not the only reason, at least.”

“And what be yer other reasons?” Mangan asked quietly.

Trixie fidgeted under the covers.

“Ye can tell me, Miss Belden. I've an idea of it already.”

Trixie snorted. “I doubt it.”

Mangan stared at the dark shadow he knew to be her face. “Y'er upset about the man in the cabin today. I'm willin' to wager that ye see him when ye close yer eyes.”

He sensed rather than saw her nod.

“You're good,” Trixie admitted.

“I'll go ye one better. I'm also willin' to wager that y'er out of sorts with me because I've brought ye to this pass. If I hadn't attacked the Fleur de Lis, ye wouldn't be in the position of havin' killed a man.”

Trixie inhaled sharply.

“Am I wrong?”

“I...”

“It's all right, Miss Belden. Ye weren't plannin' on this sort of adventure when ye stole aboard the Straight Arrow.”

“There are a lot of things I wasn't planning on,” Trixie muttered.

“Such as enjoying the company of the man ye've determined to bring to justice?” Mangan asked. He stared at the ceiling. “It does put ye in a bit of a predicament.”

“And just who says I enjoy your company?” Trixie demanded.

Mangan grinned. “Everything about you declares it. Y'er not capable of hidin' that sort of thing. Y'er much too open. And honest.”

“Not qualities which you possess in abundance,” Trixie pointed out.

Mangan stared at the ceiling. “That's a matter of opinion. I'm as honest as possible. I hide only what's necessary.”

Trixie snorted. “Necessary. You have a funny definition of that word. I suppose you think it necessary to attack ships, merely to add to your own wealth?”

Mangan inwardly winced at the scorn in her voice. “I'll remind ye of what I've told ye before. Not everything is as it seems, Miss Belden.”

Trixie tossed restlessly, her movements jerky and angry. Mangan watched in amusement as she pounded the mattress.

“Would ye like the pillow back?” he asked, grinning into the night.

A low growl emanated from the vicinity of the head of the bed. “I'll take that as a yes,” he said. Rising to his knees, Captain Mangan placed the pillow under Trixie's head, his fingers lingering on her hair.

“I'm sorry that ye had such a terrible experience today,” he said softly. “I really am. If I could change what happened, I would.” He leaned in close to her face. “I want ye to know that I would have taken greater pains to assure yer safely if I had known that they would manage to board. I should never have left ye alone.” His voice was rough by the time he finished, his regret obvious.

“It wasn't even an act of war,” Trixie said, her voice forlorn. “If I could just tell myself that he was a casualty of war...”

“Ye can lay it on me shoulders, ye know. I gave the order to attack. I be the reason ye had to defend yerself.”

Trixie shook her head. “It isn't as if you invited me aboard.”

“No,” Mangan agreed, “I didn't.” He held her eyes. “But, for me own sake, I can't say I'm sorry that y'er here.”

Trixie stared up at him, her face only inches below his. He could feel the pull of his own desire, not unlike the gentle ebb and flow of the water against the side of the ship. With each passing moment, he felt himself being drawn closer to her. Whatever her purpose had been in boarding the Straight Arrow, she had succeeded in engaging his heart.

“We should get some sleep,” she whispered.

With a curious mixture of relief and regret, Captain Mangan lay back down on the trundle bed. 

He was interrupted only a few moments later when Trixie's quiet voice roused him.

“You were right,” she said.

Forgoing jocularity, he asked, “About what?”

Trixie's quiet voice was tortured. “I see him. And I see me. With the knife.” Her voice began to break. “I see his bloody chest, and his face. Oh, God! His eyes.” The tears were streaming down her face. The words poured out of her. “Worst of all, I can feel how it felt to stab him, pushing the blade all the way in, twisting.” She was all-out sobbing.

“Trixie.” Mangan's voice was calm. “I'm goin' to climb in with ye. Is that all right?” He didn't wait for an answer, but lay down next to her. She threw herself into his arms, sobbing on his chest.

There were no words, for either of them.

Spent, Trixie fell asleep, her wet cheek resting on his chest. Captain Mangan stayed awake long after her, cursing the fact that he had allowed a part of her innocence to be destroyed. And innocence, he well knew, could never be replaced.

To be continued...

 

In the Blink of an Eye

A Rose by Any Other Name

Bagatelles