A Pirate’s tale

As far as weddings went, it was a beautiful one. 

Selene walked down the aisle, unable to resist admiring the romantic drape of florals and ivy over every feasible surface. It made the entire church smell like a fresh flower garden, a dramatic show of wealth and splendor for such an intimate gathering. There were only a handful of people on the bride’s side and a slightly larger and much rougher-looking handful on the groom’s side. Yet no expense had been spared on the flowers. 

The music changed and the crowd rose to their feet, turning to face her and ruining Selene’s delusional pretense that she was simply another guest. 

There was a tall, broad-shouldered figure standing at the front of the church. As though he felt her gaze, he turned, and Selene met the eyes of her future husband for the first time. 

Something like lightning went through her. It was such a shock, so intense, that she faltered slightly, gripping her father’s arm as though she were about to fall. 

“Are you quite alright?” her father whispered.

“Yes,” she lied, attempting to shake off the sensation.

He was just as handsome as the rumors suggested, but the feeling in her chest was something else, something more than just acknowledging his appearance. She could feel the tug toward him, the magnetic pull. The moment they locked eyes, her very soul seemed to recognize his.

How laughably poetic. That must have been a line from one of Thalia’s romance novels. It was far too intimate a feeling for someone she’d just laid eyes on, especially since he did not seem to have the same reaction.

His eyes drifted lazily down her body, but there was a sharp scrutiny hidden behind his indolent expression. She wondered if he regretted purchasing her father’s debt in exchange for her hand in marriage. Did she appraise for the value of their entire estate? As far as she knew, he hadn’t been shown her portrait, and she’d worried for weeks if he’d heard any of the idle gossip about town. Lady Selene Rivers may have been the Lord’s only child, but everyone knew she was odd. Her teeth were strange, the canines too pointed, which had fueled all sorts of rumors from changelings to vampires. Her eyes were an absurd shade of green that resembled emeralds, and she’d once heard a woman at the market describe them as “too inhuman-looking to be decent,” whatever that meant. Selene had always suspected there was something more, but she couldn’t put her finger on what exactly made her stand apart. Her parents had dismissed her fears when she tried to explain, chiding her about making more of an effort to make friends, but effort didn’t seem to matter. Sometimes she wondered if it was something inherently her that made her something other.

Despite her anxious scrutiny of his face, whatever her future husband assessed was carefully hidden from his expression. She supposed that was a valuable skill for a smuggler.

“Selene!” she could hear her mother’s horrified gasp from just a few hours earlier. “He is a respectable merchant!”

That wasn’t what the servants had said. What had Thalia called him? A smuggling cockmonger? Even “smuggler” was the polite word for his occupation. Everyone knew that Captain Blackthorn was a pirate and a very handsome, charming one at that.

Despite her unease at being appraised by a pirate, Selene kept her chin up, determined to get through this with at least a little dignity. She wished she could hate the dress her groom-to-be had purchased and sent to her, but one look at the layers of soft dove grey chiffon and silk had made that impossible. The skirt floated around her legs as the long train of the dress trailed behind her. The bodice was embroidered with tiny flowers in a matching grey. Her veil drifted behind her, stretching out as long as her train. It was a gown fit for a queen, and it fit her perfectly.

Her father made a show of handing her off to Captain Blackthorn, pressing a kiss to her forehead before hurrying back to his seat beside her mother. Selene took a shaky breath and turned as Captain Blackthorn extended his hand. He was even more handsome close-up, and her heart pounded erratically in her chest. His hand was warm and far steadier than hers and despite the roughness and the calluses, he gripped her gently. They climbed the remaining steps together and turned to face one another in front of the priest. 

The priest began to speak, but Selene didn’t hear a word. She studied the man in front of her and he studied her just as closely. His eyes were brown, much warmer than she’d expected of a pirate. He had a small scar in one eyebrow and two gold rings in one ear. He looked every bit the dallying rake he was said to be. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, his lips curled in a wolfish smile. The heat in his eyes seemed to build, and Selene felt her face grow warm. Was she blushing? She was certain she’d never blushed before in her life. 

The priest cleared his throat, startling her. It was time for the rings. She managed to repeat the vows the priest said, sliding a simple gold ring onto Captain Blackthorn’s finger. He did the same, repeating the vows in a deep voice that seemed to make sparks ignite in her stomach. She barely managed to avoid gasping out loud at the sight of the large emerald surrounded by tiny diamonds he slid onto her finger. Then came the words she’d been dreading. 

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Selene was certain she was blushing now and despite all her determination to not look like an inexperienced fool, she hesitated. She had read plenty about kissing in the scandalous novels that Thalia smuggled into her room, but she’d never kissed anyone before and he was so tall. Thankfully, Captain Blackthorn took the lead, smoothly concealing her hesitation. He stepped forward and his steady hands slid across her cheeks to cradle her face, tilting it up towards him. Selene had barely a moment to take a breath before he pressed his lips against hers. It was a chaste, gentle kiss, but it made butterflies fill her stomach as again that tie between them seemed to tug. For a brief moment, his lips pressed harder, hungrier, and without thinking, she matched his energy, but then he pulled back, leaving her breathless and aching. For a moment he stood staring down at her, his hands still cradling her face as she struggled to regain her composure. Something flitted across his face, but it vanished behind the cocky and confident smile that spread across his face. 

The priest was still speaking and the small crowd applauded. Selene’s side did so politely, casting glares at the more raucous celebration from the groom’s side. Then Captain Blackthorn tucked her arm in his and escorted her back down the aisle. Selene’s head was spinning, and it took her a moment to realize that they were going the wrong way. They were supposed to turn and go down the hall to where a small reception was to be held, but her husband was pulling her outside the main doors and directly toward a waiting carriage. 

“Wait,” she said, alarmed. “Where are we going?”

“To the ship,” Captain Blackthorn replied without stopping. 

“But the reception—” Selene protested.

“I’m afraid they’ll have to celebrate without us.”

“My parents.” Her voice shook slightly as the carriage neared. “I need to say goodbye.” 

He opened the carriage door and gestured for her to climb inside. “No time.”

Selene gaped at him and didn’t move. “What?”

“Inside, please,” he said, his voice slightly sharper. 

“But my parents—” 

She gasped as he suddenly seized her around the waist and lifted her into the carriage, stooping to bundle her long train and gather her veil, carrying them into the carriage with him as he stepped inside. He sat on the opposite side of the enclosed space, rapping on the wall to signal the coachman. The carriage jerked into movement.

“Wait—” she tried again, her voice shaking slightly.

He moved so quickly, suddenly surging up and caging her in against the carriage wall. Selene sucked in a startled breath, an absurd part of her brain noting that he smelled like exotic spices and sandalwood. 

“Tell me, wife,” he asked in a low, velvety voice. “Who’s idea was it to poison the wine?”

Selene’s heart tripped over itself. She blinked, trying to formulate a thought, any thought. “What?” 

“Was it your father’s?” he continued in that dangerous voice that made fear swim in her stomach. 

“I don’t…I don’t know what—”

“Do not lie to me, little dove,” he warned, but he leaned in closer and his nose brushed lightly against her cheek, setting off an entirely different set of sensations in her body. “I am willing to look past many things, but I do not tolerate a liar.”

He growled the last bit directly into her ear and goosebumps broke out across her skin. 

“I don’t know anything about poison,” she finally managed to gasp, and then a horrible thought occurred to her. “The reception…are my parents about to drink…did we leave them to die?”

“My people have taken care of it.” 

She stared into his brown eyes, so terribly close and yet not close enough. If she leaned forward just slightly, their lips would touch. Saints, she’d read far too many of Thalia’s books if she was thinking about kissing him when he had just accused her family of attempted murder. 

Murder. The word finally registered. Who was the intended victim? Certainly not her. Yes, she was the Lord’s daughter, but their small island was a quiet, sleepy place. In fact, Selene would describe it as boring.

“Someone tried to kill you?” she whispered.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “People often try to kill me.”

“At your wedding?”

“Twas a good idea,” he said with no emotion. “Most people would not anticipate an attack at a wedding.”

Selene blinked, ice-cold fear creeping over her skin. “Are these people going to try to kill me now that I’m your wife?”

He brushed a wayward strand of hair from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. “I have no doubt they will try,” he said, and with that, he retreated to his seat, observing her silently. 

Selene stared back at him, her mind whirling with panic. 

“Do not fret, little dove,” he murmured, his eyes glittering in the dim light of the carriage. “You’re under my protection now.”

How foolish she’d been, how naive. She’d been so caught up in the scandalous news that she was being married off to a pirate that she hadn’t spared a single thought about the potential danger of such a union. Selene had always known that marriage was her future, but she’d assumed it would be to a boring earl or if she was lucky, a handsome duke. Just last month she’d attended Celia’s wedding to a baron from a neighboring isle. But then the scandal of her father’s gambling addiction had come to light and everything had gone topsy turvy and this possibility had never even—

“Breathe.” 

Selene let out a gasp as she realized Captain Blackthorn had moved close again. He crouched at her feet, lifting one of her cold hands and pressing her knuckles to his lips. It felt like her entire body flushed with heat, and he smirked a little. 

“You have no idea what your father has gotten you into, do you?”

Selene did not appreciate the thread of pity in his voice. She jerked her hand away and tilted her chin. “I know enough,” she lied. 

His smirk morphed into that wolfish grin and, saints save her, it did things to her insides that she’d never experienced before. 

“Do you?” 

“Yes.”

He leaned closer still, sliding his hands across the pale grey silk of her wedding gown that had spilled over the seat, his eyes glinting. “Then tell me, wife, was that the first time you’ve been kissed?” 

Selene hesitated, trying to find an especially cutting remark to answer that rude question, but nothing came to her and he laughed as he sat back in his seat once more. She settled for pressing her lips angrily together and pointedly looking out the carriage window. 

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment of silence. “That was unkind.”

“I didn’t know pirates were concerned about kindness,” Selene snapped, stubbornly refusing to look at him. 

“Pirates?” he repeated, his voice amused. “Is that what you think I am?”

“Everyone knows Captain Blackthorn is a pirate.”

“Erik.”

Stubbornness forgotten, she glanced at him. “What?”

He smiled. “My name is Erik. I hardly expect my wife to call me ‘Captain Blackthorn.’”

Erik. She turned that name over in her mind. It seemed far too ordinary a name for a pirate. “You haven’t once called me by my name,” she pointed out. 

“Maybe I like calling you my wife,” he said in a low voice that immediately brought heat to her cheeks. 

“Maybe you don’t even know it,” she shot back, surprised at her boldness. 

His smile turned into something new, an amused expression she hadn’t seen yet. It looked terribly genuine. 

“Maybe this is a game for you,” she continued, flustered. “Maybe you like to collect debts from foolish Lords and take their daughters as payment. Maybe you have an entire h-harem of women on your ship.” 

His eyebrows raised. “And how would a highborn lady know anything about harems?”

Selene flushed even hotter. Damn Thalia and her cursed books. “I am not ignorant.”

“Apparently not,” he said with a smile and she realized with a start that he was teasing. “Well I hate to disappoint, but I do not have a harem of daughters from foolish Lords on my ship. Just you.”

“Why?” The word slipped out, sounding much more desperate than she intended. 

He cocked an eyebrow, a hint of the self-assured Captain slipping back over his face like a mask. “Why you?”

“Yes.”

He shrugged. “I was in need of a wife.”

“Why?” Selene regretted the question as soon as that wolfish grin reappeared.

“Why would I want a beautiful wife at my side, I wonder?” he pretended to muse. “Why would I want a lovely woman to share my life, my ship, my bed?”

Selene forced herself to hold his gaze, hoping all her inexperience and fear was not written all over her face. The carriage came to a stop, and she realized with dread that they’d arrived at the docks. At his ship. At his bed. 

“I suppose that’s for me to know and you to find out,” he added with a smirk. 

Selene waited for the coachman to open the door, but Captain—Erik opened the door himself. He must have caught the surprise she tried to hide because he chuckled as he climbed outside. 

“I don’t need someone to open the door for me. I’m perfectly capable.” 

Selene heard the mud squelch beneath his boots and glanced at the delicate grey leather slippers she wore with regret. 

“Come, wife,” Erik called. 

Selene squared her shoulders. She would not give him the satisfaction of complaining about the mud. She would act completely indifferent. He’d paid for everything she wore, so what did she care if it got ruined? She leaned down and gathered her train and veil, bundling it into her arms as he did earlier, and stepped out onto the metal step of the carriage. That was as far as she got before an arm swept under her knees and the next thing she knew, she was in her husband’s arms as he strode through the mud toward the ship. 

“Hold onto your dress and veil,” he instructed, walking easily as though carrying her was no strain at all. “Or it’ll end up in the mud.”

“You don’t have to carry me,” she protested, her voice faint as she clutched her dress. 

“Isn’t it a tradition for a groom to carry his new wife over the threshold?” 

Selene didn’t answer, staring at the ship they were approaching. It was an intimidating thing, the Silent Banshee. Selene had seen it from a distance, easily picking it out from the other ships in the harbor with its dark wood and black sails. It certainly looked like a pirate ship.

“Have you ever been on a ship?” Her husband's low voice in her ear made goosebumps rise on her arms.  

“No,” she confessed.

“It might take you a while to gain your sea legs.”

“What does that mean?” She clutched her dress tighter as he confidently stepped onto a narrow plank leading up to the ship. 

“Your body has to adjust to the movement of the ship and sea. Sometimes you…” his voice trailed off as he came to a stop in the middle of the plank. “Something troubling you, wife?” 

Selene had made the mistake of glancing down, and the great distance between them and the water below immediately made her body break out in chills. She hadn’t even noticed that she’d instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him in fear. 

“Please keep walking,” she gasped. 

He didn’t move, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, just enough to make the entire plank wobble. Selene clutched him tighter, an undignified squeak of terror escaping her mouth. 

“I do hope you’re not afraid of water.” The bastard sounded amused. 

“Please, Erik,” she begged, squeezing her eyes shut.

“I’m not going to drop you, little dove,” he said lightly, but he continued walking. 

Selene kept her eyes closed until she felt him step onto a slightly more stable surface. She expected him to set her on her feet, but he continued striding onto the ship with her in his arms. She didn’t know much about sailors or ships or…anything nautical, but she braced herself for a rowdy group similar to the ones who had been at the church. To her surprise, the few crewmates they encountered were respectful and quiet, simply tipping their heads or offering quiet salutations. 

The Captain’s Cabin drew closer, lined with windows that glowed from behind thick curtains, and the ball of nerves in her stomach grew. Erik pushed the door open with his foot and stepped inside, and Selene gaped in quiet astonishment. She wasn’t sure what exactly she’d expected, but it was not this beautiful room full of expensive furniture, like chairs upholstered in luscious velvet, mahogany bookshelves, and a large ornate desk. On the dining table waiting for them was a beautiful spread of cheeses and fruits amidst other delicacies. Erik finally set her on her feet, but Selene didn’t move, scanning the room until she spotted the large four-poster bed tucked behind what looked like a sliding panel. Her mouth felt so dry. 

“Would you like some wine?” Erik asked, his hand lingering on the small of her back. 

“Is it poisoned?” she asked without thinking. 

He laughed again, moving around her to fetch a bottle and glasses. “No, it’s not poisoned, but I can drink first if that puts you at ease.”

“I don’t think you’d poison me.” Her mouth seemed to be operating without her brain, her voice slightly higher pitched than normal. “There’s plenty of better ways to kill me.”

“Is there?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he poured them each a glass of deep burgundy wine. “Do enlighten me.”

Selene approached the table to take the glass he offered, feeling strangely like she was sleepwalking. “I imagine it would cost less if you just threw me off the side of the ship.” Maybe this was a nervous breakdown.

He hummed thoughtfully, filling a small plate with various foods. “Interesting that you would consider the cost.”

“An aftereffect of suddenly discovering that your father gambled away every penny.” 

She thought she saw a dark look flash through his eyes, but then it was gone. He set the plate on the table and pulled a chair out, gesturing at it like a gentleman. Selene sank into the chair and he pushed it in for her before moving to fix himself a plate. She stared down at the plate he’d put in front of her. Was that a tiny quiche? 

She must be having a nervous breakdown. 

“What were you expecting?” 

Selene glanced up at him to see him taking a seat beside her, looking amused. 

“I honestly don’t know,” she answered. 

He smiled and lifted his glass. “A toast to new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings,” she echoed faintly. 

Her hand trembled as she took a drink, and his eyes narrowed on it. After she set the glass back down, he leaned forward and plucked a strawberry off her plate, offering it up to her with a mischievous smile playing across his face. 

“You must be starving,” he said.

Selene met his gaze, uncertain, but he just cocked an eyebrow, like he was daring her to let him feed her. She didn’t know what came over her in response to that look, but she leaned forward and took the strawberry from his hand with her mouth, careful to keep her lips over her teeth. He brought his thumb up to his mouth, sucking the juice from his skin while holding her gaze. It felt…obscene, which didn’t make any sense at all. He wasn’t doing anything inappropriate, but the action made butterflies take flight in her stomach once again. 

“Eat,” he directed, his voice gruff.

She hadn’t realized how truly starving she’d been until she began to eat. Everything was delicious, the flavors a work of art, but too soon her plate was empty and so was his. 

“This is a truly beautiful room,” she said, nervously trying to fill the silence. “I didn’t expect it to be so beautiful. My father has mahogany shelves just like yours.” 

She took another drink of wine, her hand trembling worse than before.

“Little dove,” he said in a low voice.

“I always thought they smelled so nice, sometimes I would sneak inside his office just to smell them.”

“Wife,” he tried. 

“I’m told that they were imported from a rainforest in the West Indies. Do you think they smell like that when they’re still growing? Is it the smell of the rainforest? Or is it something—”

“Selene,” he said firmly, grasping her hand in his, and perhaps it was the shock of hearing her actual name on his lips, but her nervous babbling ceased. “Nothing is going to happen tonight.” 

She stared at him, her eyes wide. “What?”

“You needn’t be nervous,” he lowered his voice, his thumb brushing slow circles on her wrist. “I don’t believe in the barbaric custom of forcing a woman to lay with a man against her will simply because they’re man and wife.”

Selene wasn’t sure if her face was bright red or stark white. 

A little bit of the smug Captain returned to his expression, and he lifted her hand and brought it to his lips. “I will make you mine only when you ask me to.” 

The sheer arrogance of that statement made a flame of anger ignite, and she jerked her hand away. “I will never ask you to.” 

He grinned and tipped back his glass, finishing the rest of his wine. “You will.”

“I won’t.”

He stood, still grinning. “Don’t worry, little Dove,” he called over his shoulder as he made his way toward the bed, shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it in a wardrobe. “I’m a very patient man.”

Selene glared at him, half contemplating running for the first time since she heard about this “solution” her father had come up with, but her thoughts stuttered to a halt as he pulled off his shirt. She’d seen men shirtless before. The groundskeeper’s nephews had often worked without a shirt, but they didn’t look like that. 

He had faded tattoos up and down his arms, and his skin was a dark tan from the sun. Wiry muscles rippled as he moved. He was beautiful. There was no other word to describe him.  

He turned and caught her staring at him, that wolfish grin returning. “You are free to ask anytime.”

Selene opened her mouth and then snapped it shut as he dropped his pants, leaving him in just thin cotton undershorts. 

“Normally I sleep naked,” he said, watching her like he wanted to make her blush, and she hated his victorious smirk when she did. “But out of courtesy to you, I will leave my undergarments on.”

“Where am I to sleep?” she managed to choke out.

He raised his eyebrows as he folded his pants. “In the bed. With me.”

“You just said—”

“I said I wouldn’t touch you as a man touches his wife,” he interrupted, looking amused again. “I said nothing about us sleeping in separate beds.” 

Selene’s mouth moved, but nothing came out.

“There is only one bed,” he said, gesturing at it, “and I do not plan on sleeping on the floor.”

“Then I’ll sleep on the floor,” Selene said with far more bravado than she felt. 

He chuckled. “You will do no such thing.”

“How dare you—”

“Sleep in my own bed with my own wife?” He leaned against one of the bedposts, tattooed arms crossed over his chest. 

“—tell me where I can and cannot sleep!” Selene finished, ignoring the interruption. 

He stared at her for a few seconds. “No wife of mine will sleep on the floor with the vermin. 

Selene’s skin crawled at the mention of vermin, but she attempted to hide her revulsion. 

“Your servants brought over your belongings earlier. I may have taken the liberty of supplementing your wardrobe.” 

Her face warmed again. Her wardrobe had dwindled to just a handful of outfits after they sold everything they could in an attempt to pay off her father’s debt. Curiosity won, however, and she moved forward to open the wardrobe. He stayed where he was, watching her closely, and Selene attempted to hide her shock at the sight of so many new dresses and shoes. Her fingers gently brushed over the beautiful fabrics.

“Thank you,” she managed to say, swallowing past the lump of emotion in her throat. “They’re beautiful.” 

“There are sleep garments in the drawer,” he said. 

She opened the drawer and felt her face redden once again at the sight of several pairs of sheer silken negligees. There was no sign of the modest nightgowns she’d worn her entire life. He grinned, unabashed, when she turned her glare to him. 

“I asked the shopkeeper for garments suitable for my wife to wear to bed,” he said with a shrug. “Obviously, he interpreted it a certain way.”   

“I can’t wear these.” 

“Why not?”

She turned to snap at him only to find him laughing silently at her. He was teasing her…again. 

“Would you like one of my shirts to wear instead?” he offered. 

Selene worried her lip between her teeth but finally nodded. He flipped through his small portion of the wardrobe…their wardrobe, and then pulled out a cream-colored linen shirt. 

“Will this do, wife?” he asked, eyes dancing with mirth. 

She snatched the shirt from him. “Please step outside so I can change.” 

He flopped down onto his back on the mattress. “I won’t look.” 

Selene made a frustrated sound through her teeth, but he just closed his eyes and smiled. Angrily she attempted to unfasten her dress, but she couldn’t reach most of the cursed tiny buttons on her back. It seemed ridiculous now, but she’d never undressed herself before. There had always been servants helping her. Her eyes found the still figure of her husband lying on the bed, eyes closed. Selene had never considered herself a prideful person, but at this moment, the thought of asking him for help felt unbearable. 

“Do you need assistance?” 

She wasn’t entirely sure why her eyes filled with tears, but it only added to her mortification. She glanced at him to see that he’d sat up, regarding her with a serious expression. 

“I can’t reach the buttons,” she said, her voice unsteady. 

He stood up and approached her, but he stopped in front of her, so close that the warm scent of spices and sandalwood surrounded her again. She stared at his bare chest, blinking the tears back. 

“What’s wrong, little dove?” he murmured, his fingers sliding under her chin to tip her face up toward him. 

When she met his eyes, they were softer than they’d been before. Again she felt that tug inside her chest, trying to pull her even closer to him. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sure I’m just tired.”

“You don’t need to apologize. You’ve had a long day full of many changes.” The kindness in his voice was shockingly clear. “You’re in a strange place with people you don’t know. It’s natural to feel afraid, but know this,” his eyes and his voice grew serious, “I will never hurt you, nor will my crew.”

If someone had told her this morning that Captain Blackthorn would promise such a thing, she would have laughed, but now standing here in the quiet cabin with his warm fingers under her chin, it seemed terribly believable. 

“Would you like assistance with your buttons?” he asked again. 

“If you wouldn’t mind,” she managed to reply politely. 

A hint of that wolfish smile flashed across his face. “I would not mind.”

He moved behind her, carefully stepping around her long train and veil. He began to undo the many tiny pearl buttons, and she abruptly realized that he seemed very confident in what he was doing. How many other women’s dresses had he undone in this cabin? A sharp stab of a bitter, sour emotion went through her and his fingers paused. 

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes,” she hastened to say, feeling her face warm once again. 

He seemed strangely attuned to her emotions, and even more strangely accepting of them. In polite society, it was only acceptable for women to be demure, reserved, and above all, obedient. Selene had spent most of her life attempting to fit that mold, desperate to draw attention away from her strange teeth and eyes and otherness. She had been more outspoken with her new husband in the last hour than she had been in the past decade with her own father even after she discovered that he had ruined them. 

Captain Blackthorn, Erik, didn’t just tolerate her emotions, he seemed to provoke them intentionally.

“There,” he said in a strange voice. 

She turned to face him, holding her dress across her chest to be sure it didn’t fall. She meant to politely thank him, but his expression made her falter. His eyes had darkened, and he looked…well, he looked hungry. It made her mouth go dry as heat curled in her stomach. Then he blinked, and the expression was gone. 

“I have to go check on something,” he said, his voice slightly rough. “You should change. I’ll be back soon.”

He left as though hellhounds nipped at his heels. 

Selene stared after him for a moment before quickly changing. His shirt was long enough to fall to her knees, but as she surveyed herself in the tall mirror standing in the corner, she felt almost more indecent than if she wore one of those sheer silk nightgowns. Her cheeks were flushed and for some reason, her eyes and her teeth didn’t look quite so out of place in Captain Blackthorn’s…in her cabin. 

Improper. She could practically hear her governess barking the word at her. 

Selene lifted her chin, and the defiant flash of her eyes in her reflection frightened her, but she refused to look away. This was to be her home. To new beginnings. Maybe this wasn’t the cruel twist of fate she’d initially thought. 

It was several hours later that the door opened. Selene watched as her husband’s silhouette came into view. He paused at the end of the bed, looking at her, and she wondered if he could see her staring back at him. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair and sighed. 

“You should be asleep,” he said, answering her unspoken question.

“I tried,” she admitted.

He climbed into the bed on the opposite side of her, but he didn’t stay on his side. She let out a little squeak when he seized her arms and tugged her into the middle of the bed with him. Her back pressed against his front, his arms wrapped around her, and his long legs entangled with hers. The heat of his body was a shock, and the sensation of his bare legs against hers made her entire body come alive with awareness of him. Selene lay frozen, unsure of what to do. 

“I can feel your heart fluttering like a bird,” he murmured into her hair. “Same as it did in the church.”

She supposed that explained the nickname, but her mouth was too dry to speak. 

“Are you afraid of the water?” he asked after a moment.

“No,” she whispered hoarsely, “I didn’t realize how…how tall ships are.”

“Heights?” 

She nodded slightly. 

“I suppose I won’t send you into the rigging tomorrow then.” 

“Is that…high?” she asked, feeling foolish for not knowing what that meant. 

His chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Yes, little dove. It’s high.” 

It seemed impossible, but slowly her body relaxed into his as she breathed in the comforting woodsy scent that seemed to linger on his skin. For a moment, it almost tickled a memory, but nothing came. 

“Have I met you before?” she mumbled, her eyes drifting closed.

Had she been more awake, she might have noted the way his body stiffened slightly. 

“Go to sleep, Selene,” he murmured, one hand sliding through her hair to her ear, tracing the rounded lobe in a gentle, soothing motion. 

So she did.