Dark clouds are gathering. She can practically taste the change in the wind now as the ship is jostled in the waves. The air is charged with a storm.

“I never should have let you on my ship,” she hisses with an anger she feels deep in the marrow of her bones. Her wrists are bound behind her back as his men haul her towards the mainmast where what remains of her crew are being tied up.

His green eyes hold none of the softness she’s come to know as he watches the proceedings, standing shoulder to shoulder with Admiral Davies. “Aye. You should have left me to my fate.”

—

They pull him from the sea, held afloat in a tangle of ropes and barrels. He’s the first body that isn’t a corpse, and as he and her crew spill onto the deck she stares out at the field of debris, the wind whipping her dark hair free from its tie. Her ship, Calypso’s Pearl, had been caught on the fringes of the storm and then skirted it as best they could; they were lucky to have a full hull. Whatever ship this poor soul had been on—

“He’s in rough shape, Captain, but I think he might make it.” The voice of Anne, one of her most trusted crewmen and on board doctor, cut through her musings. A reputation built on ruthlessness and no quarter has led her here, but she has her own code of honor, and it doesn’t include murdering a man who can’t defend himself. “I don’t see any injuries,” Anne adds on, one hand on the barely moving chest of the man on deck.

It’s the wanting to know, about who he is, the ship he was on, that makes her decide to see if they can’t bring him back from the brink. Perhaps just this once she’ll live up to her name  Captain Grace. “Move him to my cabin, tend to him there so he’s not in the way.” Her crew only hesitates a moment, probably due to the surprise at her sudden mercy, then Jon and Lark are carefully lifting him. Anne follows closely behind them, calling for fresh water and clothes.

She can’t hear the door close over the noise of the crew working about the decks, but as soon as the four of them disappear into her cabin she’s back over on the port side. “Any other signs of life?” she asks, wrapping her hand around a rope and leaning out over the open water.

“‘Fraid not, Cap’n,” her first mate, Samuel, rumbles, voice gruff and solemn. “May God rest their souls.”

She hums quietly, eyes scanning the water and the debris littering the surface. Nothing is salvageable, or worth the effort. “Let’s get home then, Samuel,” she instructs, eyeing the door to her cabin and then heading for the helm. Anne will let her know when she can check on her new charge.

—

Grace tilts her chin up, the picture of defiance as they finally lash her to the mast. She knew the time would come for her to pay her dues for the life she’s been leading, she just didn’t know it would come with so much pain. More the fool her for ever thinking she could possibly fall in love.

—

“He’s feverish, but that’s to be expected. No idea how long he was there. He’s been muttering a lot too, so don’t be alarmed by that, and—”

Grace reaches out and takes the sodden rag from the doctor’s hands, “Anne, I can take it from here. You need to rest too.”

“Just until the next watch,” Anne insists with a stern tone that makes Grace grin.

“Aye, until next watch., Go, you look dead on your feet.” She watches Anne go, lingering at the open door. “Anne, don’t make me kick your scrawny arse all the way to your bunk.”

Anne huffs before turning and giving her a quick mock salute. “Aye, Captain. To bed.”

Once she’s alone Grace crosses the small space to stand by her bed, now occupied by a stranger. He’s sleeping peacefully for the moment and she takes the time to study him. A fresh change of clothing had been found for him at some point and he looks less close to death now than he did only a few hours before. He’s got a small smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, likely from long days spent in the sun, and his hair is the color of rust, waging a battle between salt stiff and sweat-drenched. Carefully Grace dips the cloth in the freshwater bucket and places it against his lips. His mouth moves and she watches his throat move as he swallows. Once she’s completed the task and is sure the man is resting peacefully, she moves to sit at a small table to go over the update on their remaining supplies from the quartermaster, Rachel.

A groan draws her attention some time later, but she stays at the table until she’s sure it will be nothing or devolve into more feverish mutterings. When his eyes flutter open and he groans again though she carefully makes her way to him.

“Am I dead?” He asks, staring blearily up at her.

Grace snorts. “Nay, afraid not sailor. My crew pulled you from the ocean.”

“Nice of them,” he mutters before his eyes slide shut once again.

When he rouses fully several hours later, Anne had returned and she and Grace just finished a quick low stakes game of All Fours between periodic checks on her patient.

“He’ll be fine,” Grace insists for what feels like the eighth time in half as many games.

Anne nods as she holds a hand against the man’s forehead, then dips the cloth in the water to give him so more. “Perhaps. He’s in my care though, and as this ship’s doctor it’s part of my job.”

“Admit it, you’re just excited to finally have a patient who isn’t whining or complaining while you patch them up.”

“Well, I won’t deny that,” Anne agrees with a quiet laugh. Shushing Grace when the man groans. They still, but he doesn’t wake, so Grace deals another round.

“Honestly, you’re going soft,” Grace teases as Anne looks over at the man in concern yet again.

“I am not,” Anne insists, “Ask Mary about the stitches I gave her just yesterday.”

Grace considers her hand before making her play. “Don’t worry, I’ve heard all about it.” They finish the rest of the round quietly, and when they’re done, Grace gathers up the cards to tuck them away safely.

Anne gives a little start when checking on the man once more, she finds him awake. “Oh! Hello,” she greets softly.

“Who are you?” he croaks, then clears his throat.

“Anne. We’ve been making sure you got drink in you, but now that you’re awake you can do it yourself—easy now.” Grace snorts as Anne eases her patient up and presses a tankard into his hand.

“Where am I? What happened to my ships?”

“Ships?” Anne asks, “as in more than one ship?”

“That is what I said.”

“That’s enough, Anne,” Grace cuts into their conversation with all of the authority of a captain, the easy camaraderie from the card game gone for now. Anne nods while their charge finally takes notice that someone else is in the room.

“It’s you,” he breathes, “I thought you were a dream.”

“I’m sure you’re not the only one who has thought that,” Grace drawls and Anne laughs as she stands up, easily taking the cup from the man’s hands and setting it aside.

“Anne—”

“Say no more, Cap’n.” Anne gives another little mocking salute before retiring from the cabin, leaving Grace and the still mildly feverish man alone once more.

“What’s your name, sailor?” Grace asks after a lengthy stretch of silence, watching him try to remain stoic for the duration. She sits down and then leans back in her chair, the heels of her boots finding the edge of the table while she tilts her head, taking him in.

He sniffs, straightening his spine, mustering all of the gravitas he can while sitting up in her bed and still looking sickly. “Commodore Daniel Roberts, ma’am. Now if you would kindly tell me where I am—”

Grace grins, slow and feral as she swings her feet down and moves to stand. “Isn’t it obvious? You’re my guest.” The man before her huffs in clear exasperation as she strides closer to him. “It’s my honor to welcome you aboard my humble ship, Calypso’s Pearl.”

What little color has returned to his cheeks disappears in an instant and he’s on his feet, swaying dangerously before bracing a hand on the nearest post. “Calypso’s Pearl?” He demands. “Then I presume you’re Captain Grace Hallett.” The way he practically spits her name like a curse has her hackles up; it’s what she’s come to expect, but they just saved his life. A thank you before the curse slinging began would be nice.

“Aye, I am.”

His upper lip curls and he sways towards her without letting go of the only thing keeping  him upright. “Wanted by Queen and Country for numerous offences. I should have you arrested,” he sneers, grip tight against the beam he’s leaning on.

“By all means, arrest me, Commodore. It will be an impressive feat if you pull it off aboard my own ship when you’re all on your own with nowhere to go,” she says smugly. He flushes in anger then teeters a bit on his feet. “Steady on, we just pulled you from the sea today.” He sits, and she stares at him. “I don’t know what you remember,” she begins, “but you’re the only one we found alive. So consider your ships and men lost. We’re heading for port in Tortuga, I’m sure you’ll be able to negotiate passage elsewhere from there.”

“You’re going to let me go, just like that?” he asks, sounding suspicious.

“Well, no, I’m going to put you to work first. No idle hands on my ship, as I’m sure you understand. So rest up.” 

—

She knows her knots, can tie and untie them in her sleep, but now her fingers don’t want to cooperate. So she tries to keep her body bowed instead, to allow some slack on the rope binding them all.

“Watch it!” she snaps at the man securing the knots when his hand brushes across her front. He leers at her, deliberate. Grace kicks out, legs not yet bound with the rest of her, and catches his knee, sending him tumbling to the deck with a howl of pain.

—

She’s been sleeping on a hammock amongst her crew, content to avoid the Commodore and let Anne deal with him until he’s fit enough to do anything remotely helpful. She definitely doesn’t need his help about the ship—her crew is more than capable enough—but the desire to see what he might do is strong. He catches her by surprise though, on the second morning when he steps out onto the deck, hand raised to block the sun shining down on them all.

“Good morning, Commodore!” She shouts from her place at the helm, watching her crew avoid him as he wanders the main deck.

As Grace watches him turn to look for her, the youngest of her crew, Charlotte, drops down from the rigging to land beside her. “Looks a little young, don’t he?” she asks, and Grace rolls her eyes. “For a Commodore. Usually, ugly old men, this one isn’t old or ugly, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t,” Grace sighs.

“Do you think he’ll stay? Fall madly in love with you. Or maybe even me,” the girl rambles with a toothy grin, now spinning slowly around the deck and her Captain, twirling the end of her braid around her fingers. “I’ve never been in love before, though I hear it’s supposed to be nice. Anne told me so. Once I caught her kissing Stephen, and it didn’t look very nice; but maybe they were doing it wrong? And then of course—”

“Enough, Charlotte,” Grace interrupts, eyes following the movement of their guest as he moves towards them. Charlotte sighs dramatically and drapes her arms across the spokes of the helm, poking her head between the opening, dark brown eyes twinkling with mischief. “Don’t do that,” Grace warns, and the girl pouts before withdrawing her head.

“‘Ello, Commodore!” Charlotte greets as he ascends the stairs. “How are you feeling?”

The Commodore hesitates a moment, eyeing the small girl with surprise and confusion. “I am well, thank you, miss—”

“Oh! No miss for me. Just Charlotte will do.”

“Charlotte,” Grace sighs, and the girl just grins.

“Aye, I’m goin Cap’n.” She whips a little dagger she keeps tucked in her belt out and points it at the Commodore, who raises his hands in mock surrender. “If I hear you’re bein’ mean to Cap’n Grace, I know where to stick ya to make it hurt,” she tells him, an almost menacing scowl on her tiny face.

“Aye. I’ll be sure to heed that warning, Miss Charlotte.”

Satisfied that her warning will be heeded, the young girl scurries away, swinging herself up onto the ratlines towards the crow’s nest, no doubt off to bother their lookout.

Grace watches him from the corner of her eye while she checks her compass, adjusting course accordingly. He stands rigidly, like the proper Commodore he is. He looks ridiculous.

“She’s young,” he says eventually, breaking the silence. She hums in acknowledgment. “Where did you find her?”

“You’re not going to pepper me with questions about all my crew, are you?” The man tuts at her and she grins. “A whore house in Tortuga. Relax,” she says when he turns towards her, looking horrified. “She was born there. Didn’t want to stay, so I offered her a job. Weather and God permitting she’ll be reunited with her mother tomorrow night.”

“Tortuga?” He says the word as though it tastes bitter. “You’re taking me to Tortuga? You were actually serious about that? I won’t be able to find passage anywhere worth my time from there.”

“Begging your pardon Commodore, but I don’t have a death wish. I’m a pirate, so is my crew. Going to a port the navy frequents just to see you home safe is too dangerous. So Tortuga it is.”

“All pirates have a death wish.”

Grace hates how smug he sounds when he says that, so instead she looks away from him and asks, “do you want to spend time in the brig?” 

—

Chaos erupts as the rope falls slack.

—

“It smells like shit,” he sneers from beside her as they cross the docks.

“All ports smell like shite,” Grace responds, grinning just a little. He’s been a pain around the ship: helpful, but hesitant to give up the authority he clearly holds so dear. Grace is sure the main cause of his cooperation, outside of being debt-ridden to them, has everything to do with the girl darting through the crowds ahead of them. On his second day awake and attending to the few simple tasks assigned to him, Charlotte had scrounged up a hat from gods-only-knew-where and given it to him. He was immensely more bearable while Charlotte was in his presence.

“Aye, doesn’t mean I’ve grown used to the smell, or even fond of it.”

Grace snorts and watches Charlotte dash up the street, rounding a corner towards the place she once called home. The girl may be able to fend for herself but is still her charge. “Come on. Best make sure she makes it safe, or if you prefer, we can part ways here.”

“Nay, she’s been kind. I can see her home safe.”

‘Home safe’ is a teetering wooden building that has light spilling from the front windows into the street.

Charlotte knocks politely on the door, and waits for it to open. “Mama!” she exclaims happily, launching herself at the woman who opened the door.

“Charlotte! And Captain Grace. Thank you for bringing her home safe.”

“Always,” Grace says with a smile.

“Ooooh, and who is this?” Charlotte’s mother asks with a grin, taking notice of Daniel for the first time. She leans forward just a bit more than necessary to show off her ample decolletage.

“Daniel Roberts, ma’am.”

Her gaze dances between him and Grace, her smile soft and knowing. “Ah, I see.” She straightens and reaches down to tuck a curl behind Charlotte’s ear. “Well, you two have fun.”

In the tavern, drinks acquired, Grace and Daniel sit across the table from one another in a not quite comfortable silence as she watches the Commodore shift about restlessly, drawing more than one wary eye at the way he’s acting. “Can you stop looking so—” Grace waves a hand in his general direction and he folds his arms over his chest. “No one is gonna attack you unless you provoke them, so stop looking so suspicious.”

“Forgive me, Captain, for not being so comfortable in the presence of pirates,” he hisses lowly so as not to be heard over the general din of the tavern.

“You’ve been surviving just fine on the ship. Now shut up and drink up.”

He does, eventually, distastefully eyeing the glass holding his grog. Grace relaxes into her seat and watches the chaos around them. A few of her crew are here, gambling and drinking, and the others are the gods only know where, but they’ll all turn up again when it’s time to move on.

“How did you become a pirate?” Daniel slurs after several hours and more than a few pints of grog later.

“Just did. How’d you become a Commodore?”

“Just did,” he retorts and she grins.

Grace grunts as a man collides with the back of her chair. With a curse she stands and grabs the grungy collar of his shirt, swinging him around and pushing him away. He careens through the crowd and burps into the face of the next person he bumps into. Shaking her head she sits back down and looks across the table at her unlikely companion. “My da. Fell into a less respectable life after me mum passed. Brought me with him and now here I am. Your turn.”

“It was either this or the church, and well—” he spreads his hands and shrugs a little. “Didn’t much fancy that sort of life. Worked hard, but mostly happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Everyone I know says the opposite though.” Daniel shrugs a little, “never wanted to climb the ranks, at least not this high, didn’t really want the responsibility either,  but I caught the eye of Admiral Davies.” Grace wrinkles her nose. She knows of him all too well, tangled with him once and counts herself lucky to have lived to tell the tale. He’s been ruthlessly hunting down pirates since before she was born. “He’s a good man,” Daniel insists, watching her reaction. “He just wants peace on the seas.”

“There won’t ever be peace with men like your Admiral around. Always turning a blind eye on the transport of people and instead going after men who care more about freedom and escaping the tyranny of the crown. No, pirates aren’t all good people, but I’d rather a crew of dastardly bastards than a man who only cares about profit for the crown. Your navy is a sham. You aren’t even at war, yet they use every excuse to rain down terror here in the Caribbean.”

“Please, don’t act so high and mighty. I know your score, Captain Grace,” he sneers her name, She glowers. “You don’t live up to your name at all. I heard tell you set an entire ship aflame—her entire crew on board, vengeance for leaving you for another woman” Grace rolls her eyes at this, slouching down further in her seat. She couldn’t say she had ever heard that last bit before. “And let’s not forget,” Daniel continues, “the numerous ships you’ve boarded, stolen from, and killed most of the crew. Admiral Davies and the other commanders were sure you were a man for so long. It’s not like a woman to be so ruthless.”

“Not met many women then, have ye? The fire, as far as I’m aware, was an accident on the part of someone already on that ship. We had just raised our colors and were closing in on them when the fire started. Went up like kindling. Was too late by the time we got close enough. Don’t even know who the captain was. Sit in here long enough, Danny boy, and you’ll hear a new take on a story you yerself just told, so don’t believe everything you hear.”

She stands, draining the last of her drink in one gulp, and then slams the glass down onto the table. She then pulls a small pouch hanging off her hip and throws it down on the table, a few coins escaping and rolling towards the man across from her. “To cover our drinks and get you off of this island. Best of luck—” She wavers a bit, still angry but if this is goodbye, she has one last thing to say to him. “I am sorry about your men. No one deserves that sort of loss.”

—

Thunder booms and lightning arcs across the sky as rain begins to fall. “Insolent bitch!” Admiral Davies spits, striding forward. “Get out of the way I’ll do it myself.” He shoves the man who had groped her out of the way and picks up the rope. He looks wild and crazed and she has half a mind to break his nose by bashing her forehead into it, but the ropes give way even more and a muffled shout goes up from the crew. There was a flash of movement out of the corner of Grace’s eye.

“Charlotte, no!” Daniel cries, and Grace has just enough time to see the fear in his eyes before the small girl collides with the Admiral. 

—

Back on her ship, Grace retreats into her cabin, blissfully empty and all hers once again. She rifles through the small closet holding her clothes and pulls out a silk robe. It’s impractical, but gorgeous nonetheless. She won it off of a man claiming to be Captain Avery a few years back: a treasure from the orient that he himself had stolen. Carefully Grace spreads it out over her bed and searches for the bucket Anne had left in here. Privacy meant finally bathing more than just a perfunctory amount. Bucket in hand, she opens her door only to come face to face with Commodore Roberts once more.

“Captain,” he greets, sweeping into a bow that makes her grin.  Just when she thinks she’s got a handle on the man, he finds a way to prove her wrong. Considering how she left, Grace thought that would be the end of things, and she would never see him again, which was fine by her.

If she’s being honest, she’s pleasantly surprised to see him back, not that she can let him know that. “Can I help you, Commodore? I thought we were rid of each other.”

He rises, pushing his hair back from his face. His cheeks are ruddy and he’s breathing heavily, almost as if he ran here. “Aye, well. I’ve recently come into some coin and was wondering if I could purchase passage off this godforsaken island.”

She stares at him for a long moment and hates the way he grins slowly, like he knows he’s backed her into a corner. “And if I say I have no need of coin?”

“Ah, well, I thought the draw of the coin would be more than enough. Isn’t that part of the draw to a life of piracy? The promise of coin?” He’s teasing her. He shakes the pouch, the coins jangling around and Grace clicks her tongue.

“I’ve tolerated days of your presence already Daniel. Pray tell why I should do it again.”

“Grace.” He’s still a little drunk; she can tell by the look in his eyes and the fact that he’s said her name. There’s a sharp little thrill that runs through her at the way he says her name, but she knows if he didn’t have so much to drink he wouldn’t. So she pushes any feelings she has about it aside as he blunders forward with his plan. “Please. I’ve no hope finding transport without joining a crew on this pittance.”

She huffs and rolls her eyes, knowing very well the sum she gave him is more than enough to broker passage almost anywhere he would want. Except maybe back across the ocean towards merry ol’ England. “You’ll sleep in the crew’s quarters, seeing as how you’re feeling better. But if I hear so much as a whisper of you being inappropriate with any of my crew—”

His hands go up in defense. “I would never!”

Her eyes narrow and she steps fully from her cabin, closing the door behind her. “Why aren’t you married?”

“Is this the part where I say the sea and my ship are my only true loves?”

“If it’s true, aye.”

His shoulders slouch and he trails after her as she begins walking towards the ladder to the hold. “Almost was, once. Or as close as you can get when you’re at sea most of the year. Everyone says it was a smart match, but she fell in love and ran off to London and had a Fleet Marriage.”

“You’re kidding,” Grace says, almost missing a step as she descends into the hold in surprise.

“Why would I make that up?” he asks, sounding perplexed.

“Sympathy. I bet you’re a hit in the brothels with that one.”

“No,” he grunts, bypassing the last few rungs by jumping to the deck below. “I haven’t told many people about it. Kind of embarrassing.”

“‘Suppose,” Grace agrees, plunging the bucket in the barrel used for bathwater.

“Wait, what are you planning on doing with that water?” Daniel asks, finally watching her.

“Bath,” she drags the work out as she pulls the dripping bucket from the cold water. “Why, worried I was gonna toss it on you?” she teases, grinning when he winces. “Fourth hammock on the right is free, but we’re in port for a few days still. You’re more than welcome to find a bed in a tavern, or go visit Charlotte’s mum. I think she fancied you.”

“That wasn’t the impression I got at all. A hammock will do. Thank you, Captain.”

“You’ll be put to work, Roberts,” she says, one foot braced on the rungs to ascend.

“I’d expect nothing less,” he responds with a soft smile.

In her cabin once more Grace strips down to nothing and searches for the small slab of soap she keeps tucked away in her desk. The water is as cold as she expected so she cleans herself as quickly as she can while still ensuring the stink of the tavern and the days that came before it are gone. Then she tackles her hair, a trickier task with only the bucket, but she’s managed with less before. She braids her hair back, squeezing excess water from it as she goes, and then she finally puts the robe on.

The gentle sway of the ship is comforting, as are the quiet groans released from her hull every so often as she rocks. Grace spreads herself across her bed with a sigh. She can smell him here. She’ll need to wash the sheets to rid them of him, but for tonight—for tonight perhaps it will be okay to pretend that they’re different people, that he’s only just left to fetch something from elsewhere, and that he’ll be returning here, to her. 

—

Admiral Davies takes the collision from the side, but it doesn’t move him an inch. For a moment everything is still. Then he growls, turning towards the small girl. Grace, sensing a moment of opportunity while he’s distracted, kicks out towards him when he reaches for Charlotte, but she’s just a few scant inches shy of her target. Fear grips tight around her heart, sinking its claws in as the Admiral wraps his hand around the young girl’s throat, easily lifting her off her feet. Charlotte yelps a little, small hands scrabbling frantically against the back of his hand, leaving trails of red in their wake, but it’s not enough to break skin, nor even enough to make him flinch.

“Let her go!” Grace shouts, struggling against the ropes.

“Come on, come on,” she hears Anne mutter from beside her. “Sammy hurry it up, man.”

A grunt, and then the ropes fall to the deck with a heavy thump. Her hands are still bound at her back, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t try to get Charlotte free. She hears the quiet shh of a sword being drawn. Blood splatters across the deck and Grace screams.  

—

Grace determines to sail north, making for the colonies; a safer, more obscure port of call than any around here, all of them heavily populated by the crown’s fleets, and can be upon you quickly, if need be. No, best make for the coast where they have less authority and even fewer ports established. They’ve only sailed this route twice before, and once on a different ship, so she has hope that they can sneak in, drop off Daniel, and be away with little fuss. She, Anne, and Stephen take stock and make a list of everything they’re going to need for the journey. Charlotte offers to run the orders to where they need to go, and Daniel goes to accompany her.

Once Charlotte and Daniel are off the ship Anne rounds on her. “An awful lot of trouble for a man who will see us dead the next time we meet on the seas.”

“Then we meet on even ground.”

After they’ve set sail once more, Daniel keeps his head down and does the work though, no matter how ridiculous or below his station the task is. Grace keeps pressing him to see when he’ll break, but he just gives a quick ‘aye, Captain’ and is off to do what she’s asked of him. She suspects he may be on to her though, and knows his chipper attitude chafes just a little, and so the cycle repeats. None of her crew has any complaints about him, either, and Grace isn’t sure if it’s frustrating or laughable that a Commodore of the English Royal Navy has managed to integrate himself so flawlessly into the crew.

At the end of their first full week at sea Grace spends the evening on deck with her crew. The seas are calm and the night is warm. A cask of rum is brought out and Stephen pulls out his fiddle, while Mary rushes below and returns with a mandolin. Charlotte skips around the deck, dragging crewmates into dance as she passes them by as the music begins to swell.

The sky shifts from cloudless blue to brilliant ochre and for a fleeting moment paints the deck of the ship gold. Charlotte wriggles her fingers in Grace’s direction with a cheeky grin and then two-steps over in rhythm with the music to grasp her hands.

“Dance with us, Captain!” She laughs, pulling Grace to her feet and onto the open space of the main deck.

“Aye, just for a song or two,” Grace agrees before twirling the young girl around and into a jig to match the lively tune.

The last lingering beams of sunlight disappear from the ship and the ocean as the sun dips down below the horizon, still spilling a bit of light into the sky. Lanterns are lit and more drink is passed around.

“Do you dance Commodore?” Grace hears Anne call across to the man who is lounging portside on a coil of rope, the ship’s cat curled up next to him. If he answers, Grace doesn’t hear it, but her next turn around the deck finds her face to face with the man himself.

“The Captain and the Commodore!” Charlotte exclaims, clapping beside them. “A dance!” There is a lull of quiet as Grace stares wide-eyed at Daniel, who looks like he would rather be elsewhere than with her. Then comes the opening notes of a jaunty jig, and he smiles just a little. A hand settles at her waist while he reaches for her other, lifting a brow in question. Grace nods her answer and sucks in a sharp breath as he pulls her into a lively dance.

The lanterns on the ship make his hair look fiery bright and Grace can’t tear her eyes away from the sight. Her hand on his shoulder takes note of the strength there, while her other can feel the callouses that match her own.

“Alright there, Captain?” he asks with a smile. She can smell the rum on his breath.

“Never better, Commodore.” And if her voice is breathier than it’s ever been, he’s wise enough to not say anything. 

—

“Charlotte!”

Her little body crumples onto the deck and she makes a muffled noise of pain as the Admiral howls in anger. Grace falls onto her knees, feels the impact shudder through her bones as she slips across the wet deck towards her fallen crew member.

“‘M alright, Cap’n,” Charlotte manages with a dazed grin. Grace curses and grunts, straining against the ropes around her wrists, wishing for her hands to reassure herself that Charlotte truly is okay.

—

They’re nearly halfway through their journey when Grace steps out onto the deck in the early afternoon, fingers a little ink stained and eyes weary from dealing with the mundane part of her job.

“What’s going on?” she asks, moving close to Stephen as her hazel eyes sweep the flurry of activity on the main deck. It’s chaotic, but the steady beat of steel on steel is apparent over the noise of the crowd.

“The Commodore is teaching Charlotte sword fighting,” Stephen grunts, unimpressed with the goings-on of his underlings while they’re not actively on duty.

“Oh?” She makes her way around the small gathered crowd and there they are, Charlotte holding a cutlass instead of her trusted dagger, facing off against the Commodore. The sleeves of his borrowed shirt are rolled up to his elbows and his stance is casual, blocking her incoming and inaccurate attacks with ease while offering encouragement and advice.

“Good. Again, but this time I want you to get closer. Like this.” Slowly he demonstrates an attack, reaching under her sword after the block to grab her wrist and step closer, gently tapping her shoulder with the flat of his blade. “Boarding is fast and messy, and you want your opponent out of your way as quickly as possible. Getting past their defenses like this is one way to do that.” Charlotte nods eagerly. “Carefully.”

“Aye, I know.” Charlotte is serious in her response, but she’s slow and clumsy reenacting the move she has been shown. “I can’t do it,” she complains with a sad huff.

“You just need to practice.” He winks at the young girl, who stares starry-eyed up at him. “Perhaps your Captain would be willing to show you how it’s done?”

Grace starts, surprised that he’s seemingly willing to rope her into this and spar with her, surely he knows she won’t go easy on him.

“Oh, Captain, please?” Charlotte begs, already handing over the cutlass.

“Aye, alright, suppose I can spare a few minutes,” she agrees, looking over at Daniel. “If the Commodore wants to be put in his place, who am I to say no?” A titter of laughter swells around them as she takes the weapon, giving it a quick twirl to test the feel and weight of it, as it’s not her own trusted cutlass.

“Shall we?” she asks, once Charlotte is a safe distance away from the fray.

It’s a dance she’s known for years now, and every turn with her new partner fills her with a rush of excitement. Grace rolls her shoulders as Daniel nods, grinning. They meet with a ringing clang as their blades connect. She presses the offensive, pushing him across the deck, almost to the stairs leading to the forecastle, then falls back because it’s not often she can spar with someone she doesn’t know the fighting style of.

She lets him lead until she’s feeling breathless with excitement, then wrestles back control of battle. This time she pushes him back until his back collides with the wall of her cabin and she executes a move similar to the one he was attempting to teach Charlotte. His weapon arm out of the way, she lunges into his space until she can press the guard of her sword against his throat instead of the actual blade.

Grace can feel the heat coming from his body, can hear the heavy pants of his breath and she watches, entranced, as his tongue appears, licking at his lower lip. She glances up into his eyes to find a different kind of heat altogether.

Clapping erupts and Grace tries to retreat with as much dignity as she can muster, but based on Anne’s smug grin and the Commodore’s flushed cheeks and wild expression, she’s sure she moves away from him more like a startled cat.

“That was amazing, Captain,” Charlotte enthuses. “I can’t wait until I can do that too.”

—

“Bloody insolent fool!” Grace turns in time to watch the Admiral awkwardly draw his sword with his left hand and level it at Daniel. Blood drips from his right arm, puddling on the deck.

“Get me out,” Grace whispers quickly to Charlotte, eyes not straying from the gruesome wound that split the Admiral’s wrist open to the bone. There isn’t much time: the admiral’s crew is waffling between confusion over the new confrontation and the sudden freedom of her crew. The girl works quickly, and when Grace is free she brings her arms around. She’ll be bruised where the skin is raw and chafed, but she can worry about that later.

“A month in the company of these pirates, and it was enough to turn you,” the admiral sneers at Daniel. “I’ve heard tell Captain Grace can be quite accommodating when she needs to be.” Lightning arcs across the sky again and Grace watches the way it sparks in Daniel’s gaze.

—

A knock at her cabin door has Grace rolling from her bed, teetering on the fine edge between sleep and wakefulness as she pulls on her silk robe. Then she stumbles the scant distance to her door, opening it.

“Commodore,” she yawns, hopeful it hides her surprise at finding him there. “What can I do for you at this hour?” It’s dark, save for the lanterns and the sky is filled with stars above them. She can hear Stephen humming a tune as he mans the helm.

Daniel stands there, looking the proper Commodore with his hands tucked behind his back yet again; a habit her crew was trying to break him of with good-natured ribbing and little success. The look in his eyes, though, is just a touch wild. “Grace,” he breathes her name and she feels it settle somewhere deep within her. He slips into her cabin and she shuts the door behind him.

“Tell me I’m not crazy.” He’s close. So close to her again, only this time the heady thrill that flows through her veins has nothing to do with a dance or a fight and everything to do with him.

“Why would I ever do that?” she asks, and he smiles just before leaning in and capturing her lips in a kiss. It’s intoxicating and delicious and she knows he’ll be leaving her sooner rather than later, so all the better reason to enjoy him here and now.

“You won’t break me,” she says the words with confidence, tilting her chin up even as she’s bared to him in her bed. He won’t. Doesn’t, even as he settles between her thighs, sinks into her wet heat as her calves circle around him, urging him deeper. He’s not the first man she’s taken to bed, but if she’s not careful she knows he might be the first to work his way past her defenses and into her heart. 

—

Thunder booms.

—

“Storm’s comin,” Anne observes, glancing up from cleaning her musket.

“Aye, winds changin,” Grace agrees just before a shout comes from above, followed by the frantic ringing of a bell. Charlotte appears over the edge of the crow’s nest and clambers down the earlobes.

“Ship on the horizon and gaining Cap’n,” she reports, breathless from her efforts.

Grace takes the telescope Samuel offers her and swings around to face the stern. “No,” she exhales sharply, numbly passing off the eyeglass to Anne, who swears upon looking. “Blast that man.”

“What’s going on?” Daniel appears near her left elbow Grace grunts before turning around without answering.

“Charlotte, I need you to get back in the crow’s nest and keep an eye out. Send Mary down. Storm’s comin’ and we can’t outrun both. we need to wet the sails and batten down the hatches,” Grace orders, looking the girl square in the eye.

“I can help!” Charlotte insists, drawing up to her full height.

“Aye, I know ye can, but you’ve the best eyes and I need you to keep an eye on that ship.” The girl nods but does as bid. “Anne—”

“Already on my way,” she says, pressing the telescope silently into Daniel’s hands and making her way below decks to the cannons.

Grace watches him place the instrument up to his eye, and bites at the inside of her lip to keep herself focused on the upcoming task at hand and not get distracted by the view. Bloody handsome fool. She crosses her arms and waits.

“It’s Admiral Davies,” Daniel says.

“I’m aware.”

He takes a step closer to her, expression serious. “You can’t fight him, Grace.”

“I have before and I will again,” she snaps at him, and she can see the way he softens.

“He wants you dead.”

“Aye? Well, the feeling is mutual.”

He reaches out, fingertips brushing against the back of her hand and she flinches away from his touch. “Grace—”

“It’s Captain, Commodore. And you can stand here and state facts or you can help. Or hide.” He says nothing, and she squares her shoulders. “I need to go help the gunners. Samuel. Keep her steady.”

—

Grace staggers to her feet, Charlotte beside her, and on the starboard side of the ship a cry goes up as her crew charges after the men of the Admiral’s crew, taking advantage of their momentary lapse in action. The rain pelts down on them all, hard and heavy, wind picking up until it feels akin to needles against her skin. Grace lunges for the pile of weapons the Admiral’s men had taken from her crew, coming away with two cutlasses in each hand. She passes one to Charlotte.

“Don’t go lookin’ for a fight, just keep yourself safe.” Grace insists lowly, pleased when the other girl nods frantically. “We’re gonna be okay.”

A bluff, one of the worst she’s ever told because they’re very much outmanned and out-armed and Grace knows there’s more men in the hold of the Admiral’s ship, ready to fight, just waiting for a signal.

She slinks closer to the silent battle of wills being waged between the Admiral and Daniel and then presses the tip of her blade to the center of Davies’ back. “How about a true taste of my hospitality then, Admiral?” She sneers the words and delights in the way his spine straightens. Daniel’s gaze flickers to hers.

—

“We can’t outrun them,” Daniel insists when Grace appears back on the main deck. The ship is even closer now; it will only be a matter of minutes until they’re upon them.

“Aye.” She takes a deep breath before taking the stairs to the quarterdeck two at a time. “Prepare to be boarded!” she shouts for all her crew to hear. “Expect no quarter.”

“Commodore!” a voice calls across the wind and Grace turns to find Admiral Davies leaning casually against the port side of the bow. “How lovely to see you again. I received word your small fleet was lost at sea!”

“Aye, ran afoul of a storm. Was lucky enough to be found.”

“Yes, by none other than Captain Grace.” The way he says her name sends a chill up her spine. “I suppose a parley is in order. Seems only fair considering you saved the life of one of my best.”

They’re being boarded before she can say anything about it, and when a brute of a man squeezes her wrist so hard she’s forced to drop her weapon she feels fear coil in her gut like never before. And when Daniel greets the admiral with a smile and a handshake she growls, fighting against the hold around her. Betrayal lances through her, and while she knew eventually Daniel would leave, she never could have foreseen this. He’s played her for a fool, and that truly smarts more than the hard grip holding her tight.

The admiral tuts and walks close to her. “It doesn’t matter what sort of whispered words he’s shared with you in the dead of night. Commodore Daniel Roberts is my man through and through. His allegiance lies with me.” The words are hissed against her ear so no one but she can hear them, but she reacts the way he wants. She lunges at him, teeth snapping, the only weapon she has at the ready. He retreats with a snide laugh.

“Round them up. I want this ship at the bottom of the sea by nightfall.”

“You absolute liar,” Grace seethes, kicking out at the Admiral as she’s dragged past him. The rest of his crew is pulling her own towards the mainmast.

He hums, amused. “And if you should make it out of this alive, my dear, who would believe the word of a pirate-a woman-over a man like me.”

“Rest assured, Admiral, if I get free I will be the only one of the two of us to make it out of this day alive.”

—

“Roberts,” Davies tries, already sounding desperate. “Think wisely about this.”

“I believe I’ve already made myself clear, Admiral,” he says, glancing once more at Grace, smiling just a little.

It’s the opening the Admiral needs, jerking his left arm in an awkward arc Daniel doesn’t manage to block. Red blooms against Daniel’s upper arm and he grunts in pain and surprise.

“Bastard,” Grace spits, lunging forward and wrapping a hand around the injured wrist of the Admiral. He squeals in pain, and Daniel steps back as she turns the man between them around. She squeezes tight, watches tears gather in the Admiral’s eyes before they’re lost to the rain. “I’ll scuttle your ship,” she seethes. “And when the dawn comes, there will be no more trace of Admiral Davies. When word reaches home about such a loss, I’m sure someone will mourn, but no one will remember your name.”

His lips are forming a word, a sentence she’ll never hear, because she runs her blade through his gut, twisting sharply and pulling it out. A heavy splatter of warmth covers her boots, and the Admiral gives a quiet gurgle before she lets him go and he slumps forward onto the deck. Grace backs away, not letting him touch her. It is only then is she aware of the fighting around them.

“Grace—” Daniel starts, but she shakes her head.

“Tell me later!” she insists, then turns and dives into the fray.

—

They’re all waterlogged and worse for wear when it ends. Blood covers Charlotte nearly head to toe, but she’s bouncing around, repeating the story of how she attacked the Admiral to anyone who will pause long enough to listen. The tale becomes more outlandish with each telling. Grace calls for a cask of rum to be brought out.

“Maybe even two!” she declares amid cheers.

The rain is letting up, and the Admiral’s ship is slowly disappearing beneath the waves. Just another day, though only in some ways if not in others. She shucks off her boots, a bloody mess, and traces a toe along the grain of the wood of the deck. A thorough cleaning will be needed from all hands on deck, but in the morning.

She sees him, from across the deck, weary and battle-worn, injured arm wrapped up tight, listening intently to Charlotte as she recounts the tale of how she used the move he taught her to disarm one of the Admiral’s men, for what Grace is sure is the third or fourth time. A good man, maybe an idiot at times, but he’s definitely hers. With steady, determined steps she crosses the ship to him. His eyes go wide when he notices her, and he looks ready to bolt at any second.

“Grace, I’m so sorry about—”

“Daniel—” Grace wraps a hand around the loose collar of his shirt and yanks him down to her. His lips are warm where the rest of her is cold and when his hands settle at her waist to pull her flush with his body a shout rises up around them. Grace pulls back with a laugh.

“Ye’ve got a perfectly good cabin!” Anne calls. Mary whistles.

“Aye, so I do,” Grace answers.