Charles couldn't believe his eyes. The woman in front of him had been beaten, and badly at that. Over a very long time. Possibly her whole life.

  At first, Charles had thought Dobbs had done this to the woman before he could intervene, but these marks were in various stages of healing. Among the scars were dark purple and pea green colored bruises, ones that weren't fresh but recent enough. They were long and thin, telling him that the likely weapon hadn’t been someone's hand, but a cane.

  “My father took every opportunity he could to remind me that I wasn't the son he wanted.” The woman's voice was filled with loathing and emptiness as she talked about the man.

  Charles recognized that broken tone. It was the same one he had when he was reminded of Albinus and his years of being a slave. The fear and hatred were almost inseparable. Charles got to his feet and held out his hand to the woman.

  She looked at his hand, then back to his eyes, before she lifted her hand and settled it in his. He pulled her gently to her feet.

  “You don't know it, but the man has given you a gift. Hatred is a very powerful thing. It can get you far.” Charles told her.

  “Or put you in an early grave.” She snorted out a sarcastic kind of laugh.

  “You are free of him now,” Charles told her.

  “Free of him, but not free. I have nothing. No money, no relations, no prospects in polite society now,” she informed him. “Instead of being at the mercy of one, I am at the mercy of many.”

  “You think that way now.” Charles disagreed with her. “What I have done is take away the pressure of that World. You can be your own master now.”

  “I wanted that life, Charles! I wanted to be a wife. I wanted to have children. What is open to me now? A life of piracy? Or should I do as Silver joked and become a whore? Oh, what value my life will have.”

  If Charles hadn't felt so insulted by her words, he might have gone into the captain’s quarters and punched that slick fellow in the face. Before he could respond, she asked him a question.

  “Why did you bring me with you?”

  “I wanted to.” His response was quick. He didn't need to think about it.

  “Am I property to you?” Her eyes narrowed at him. “If I had not told you my story just now, would you have ransomed me back?”

  “Probably.” His temper flared, and there was no point in lying.

  “Why did you bother to rescue me from being raped?” She asked as she started to push him away so she could leave.

  “If anyone is going to touch you. It will be me.” Charles said as he took hold of her arm to stop her.

  “So, you do think of me as property?” she glared up at him. “Fine then. I survived my father. I will survive you as well.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Charles didn't want to rape the girl. That was the farthest thing from his mind. Was he hungry for her? Yes, but not in that way. He wanted her to be just as hungry for him. He wanted to possess her. He wanted every part of her to belong to him and only him. He hadn't felt this feeling so strongly. Not even with Eleanor, who seemed even more like the biggest mistake of his life.

  But he had to admit to himself that fighting with this woman was a bit of fun. He admired a woman who could give back as much as he gave, even after almost being raped. It showed strength and a deep resolve.

  Charles took hold of her and forced her back against the ship's wall. He purposely pushed his body as close to hers as he could and watched as her eyes went wide. His fingers twisted in her hair and pulled gently so she was forced to look up at him.

  He kept his mouth only a hair's breadth from hers as he looked into her blue-green eyes.

  “Let's make one thing clear. If I intended to make you my property, I would have done so already.” He kept his tone soft, but because of his naturally deep tone, it came out more as the warning he intended.

  “But do not mistake my patience for kindness. Nor should you mistake any kindness I show you as mercy. I do what I want as a free man. I brought you on board, and if that should happen to lead you to my bed, I will make sure it’s willingly.”

  It was a promise Charles made to himself and to her.

  She inhaled so sharply that he could feel the intake of breath on his own lips.

  “Did I make myself clear?” Charles asked when she remained silent.

  His thumb stroked along the pulse on her neck, and he could feel her gulp.

  “I will never go to your bed.” She finally said back to him, just as bravely as she would anything else.

  “Really?” Charles asked as he looked her deeply in the eyes.

  Charles thought about calling her bluff and kissing her, but force wasn’t the way with her. It might even end up causing him to bleed. She needed a commanding presence to keep hold of the spirit she had inside her and not be afraid to handle it. Or rather, he should rephrase himself and say match it. For the first time in his life, Charles realized he would have to be tender. Or his version of what he thought that word meant.

  “You spoke of your wishes.” Charles coaxed. “If you want jewels, I can steal them right off the necks of royalty itself. You want a home. I can take hold of any property that I see fit. A Governor's mansion, perhaps? Fuck, I could build you a home on the sea's edge. I can seize you anything your fanciful little heart desires.”

  Charles offered lies in hopes she would surrender, but he knew it wasn’t likely to be so easy.

  “What of love?” She countered brazenly.

  Love, that was where he fell short. Eleanor's betrayal had left him empty of what little he'd thought he had within him.

  “What I offered is not enough?” He questioned.

  “No. It's not.” She shook her head. “It all is for nothing if it's not for love.”

  Charles groaned. Women! Damn them! He pushed himself away from her and turned to storm off.

  “Where are you going?” She called out after him.

  “What do you care?” Charles shouted back over his shoulder.

  Charles went to brood. He hated the fact that he was. Why did he get so rattled around her? If he was honest with himself, he knew why. Her passion. Her strength. He'd known her for less than a day, but already he knew he wanted her. He had the feeling that once that woman was loyal to him, she would be faithful for life, and he might be also. Which was something he'd never thought about.

  Charles had only ever been loyal to the sea. It took, it gave, there was a balance he understood while on the water, and also a freedom not found on land. People on land worked on a fixed schedule and a set of rules he didn’t want to understand. Charles had lived that life and promised himself he'd never again be at its mercy, but now, there was a curiosity to it.

  What if there was something to go to land for?

  No! He told himself. Bedding a woman was not a reason to give up that freedom.

  Charles sat down at a table with a full cup of watered-down drink. He wondered if it was enough to get him drunk. Probably not. He probably wouldn't even get tipsy.

  There were a few men left awake who weren't on deck. They seemed to be doing the same as him, but he'd be damned if he joined them. He wanted to be alone. How fucking pitiful of him.