Harte gestured and a large leather pouch was tossed at Nathan's feet, landing with the clatter of coins.

Nathan regarded Harte, and then turned to Prudence.

"Very well, then, darling," Nathan said in a fatherly tone. His hands fluttered about her person, arranging curls and straightening ribbons. "We must take our farewells then, my dear. Be a good girl, and remember what I told you about strangers."

He shook a parental finger, while Prudence nodded, intent on his every word. "Mind your elders, say your prayers, and never eat dessert with your fish fork. Now, do you think you can remember all that?"

"Then, this is good-bye?" she asked meekly.

"Aye, luv, adieu it 'tis."

Her lower lip began to quiver. "Will I ever see you again?"

Nathan slid Harte a taunting leer. "One never knows, does one?"

Nathan barely had time to pat the girl on the head and nudge her forward before Harte seized her by the arm to tuck her safely behind him.

Nathan ducked a mocking bow and bared his teeth in a contemptuous smile.

"'Tis been a pleasure doing business, Commodore."

Harte's gaze travelled the deck and fixed on the cabin door. "I am in a position to offer the price of freedom for whomever else you might be harboring against their will."

Cate jerked back, clapping a hand over her mouth against her gasp. Since their parting, Harte would have had time to learn of her identity and the warrants for here arrest. Or, was he operating in a fog of chivalry, only intending to save her?

"Can't imagine what you're referring to, mate. You suggest we are running some sort of vessel of iniquity. Anyone here is so because they wish it. There be no other hostages. Right, mates?"

The crew heartily sounded their support.

"And, as we have already so succinctly and eloquently discussed, women on a ship are bad luck, or have you forgotten, already?" Nathan asked.

"Then our business is complete." Harte ducked a bow and pivoted on his heel. Taking Prudence by the elbow, he headed for the accommodation gate, his boarding party in close order behind.

"By the by," Nathan called to Harte's back. "Have a care unshipping her, mate. Her welfare is in your hands, now."

Nathan swaggered toward the Great Cabin. Roosting atop a cask near the doors, he lounged against the bulkhead.

"I would have paid admission to watch this," he said low enough for only Cate's benefit.

Together, Cate pressing her eye to the doorjamb, they watched a commodore and men of the Royal Navy grapple with the gargantuan task of removing a 16-year-old girl from the Morganse.

"Harte doesn't appear pleased," she said.

Nathan made a caustic noise. "He always appears to have his breeches on backwards or something."

A screech pierced the air, another of the temple-stabbing nature, and Cate gasped. "They aren't actually going to do what it looks like, are they?"

Nathan cocked his head consideringly. "It's been me personal experience-humble as it may be," he added, touching a hand to his chest. "That a kicking and screaming woman doesn't pass well from hand to hand, under any circumstances, down the side, while at anchor, or at any time, actually, truth be told. Doesn't go well, a-tall."

Pryce sidled closer, unable to tear his eyes from the spectacle unfolding. "Shouldn't we be offerin' a hand, Cap'n?"

Nathan contemplated briefly. "No, Master Pryce. 'Tis been me perpetual experience the Royal Navy is best left to its own devices. Bloody resentful they are of interference, especially from the likes such as us."

Pryce swiveled an incredulous look. "Even if 'tis the path of destruction?"

"More's the sweetness of the result," Nathan said, with a complacent grin.

The pirates stood in a mix of sympathy and disbelief at the two Marines bellowing in pain as Prudence clawed for a more secure hold on their necks.

"Not sure they've enough skin for this task," Pryce observed, struggling to preserve his straight face.

Nathan lolled in half-lidded contentment. "Aye, Mr. Pryce, we can all tell our grandchildren of the day Royal Navy blood was drawn and spilled on the decks of the Ciara Morganse, and never a blade was raised."

He was correct; blood was being spilt, albeit in fine droplets, from nails raking cheeks and necks of the souls who lowered the screeching Prudence over the side. Her head eventually disappeared below the gunwale, leaving only the sound of her screaming and frantic shouts. At length, there was only the coxswains' call to the oarsmen as they pushed away.

"Ah, well," Nathan sighed. "The show is over. Prepare to make way, Master Pryce."

"Is it over?" Stepping over the coaming, Cate could see the recessional of longboats trailing toward the warship.

"Not until they've sank the horizon, but from all appearances, I'd say aye. The Griselle on their flank will help keep them honest." Nathan rocked on his toes, his hand resting on the butt of his pistol. "I shan't fancy they would try anything, what with Lord Creswicke's beloved betrothed aboard."

"That was cruel, you know."

He struggled to hide his satisfaction, but finally surrendered and broke into a full-fledged grin. "Only because Commodore Stick-Up-His-Britches wouldn't deign to ask for help. Besides, no two people deserved it more."

Towers ambled down the deck. He bent to pick up the leather pouch, his eyes rolling in pleasure at the heavy clinking sound inside. "What's to do with this, Cap'n?"

Nathan waved a vague hand. "Pass the word for Mr. Pryce. 'Tis his affair."

"After all that, you're not interested in the money?" Cate asked.

Nathan cocked one hip as he leaned on the rail. He scanned the horizon and smiled crookedly. "Pryce is the quartermaster: shares are his task."

"My rewards come in other forms."

"Creswicke doesn't strike me as the type to be trifled with. What will he do when he finally finds out?"

His cheeks rounded with a grin, white laced with gold. "Everything he can, darling-everything he can."

End of Part Two

Chapter 18: Twisted Fate.

Cate stood at the cabin's table, her honing basket and all its contents spread before her. She concentrated on the flat, even strokes of Stubbs' knife across the honestone's oiled surface. She heard the clump of Nathan's boots come in and the scuff of when he stopped.

"You're upset." Nathan spoke from somewhere near the mizzen, she thought, for she didn't look up.

"I'm fine."

"No," he said carefully. "I think not."

"I'm fine."

"I see." Sighing as one resigned to an inevitable battle Nathan inched closer. "Then why are you in here, when you're usually out there?"

From the corner of her eye, Cate saw a thumb jab over his shoulder toward the door.

"Beatrice represents that Hodder, Squidge, and the afterguard didn't banish you from the afterdeck because of your charmingly gay company," he said reprovingly.

Cate winced. Once the exchange for Prudence had been completed, and the Resolute's masts had dipped the horizon, the Morganse had wore around through the Straits, spread her studdingsails, and ran before the wind to her rendezvous with the Griselle. In retrospect, Cate mightn't have presented herself in the best light since. The hands' eye-rolling and grumbling behind her back hadn't gone unnoticed. Several things had weighed on her mind, none of which she was willing to put a name to.

"I'm fine," she said, sounding more bullish than was flattering.

Nathan twisted his jaw sideways in consideration. "Uh-huh. Then what are all those?"

He nodded toward the floor. A small, bristling array of knives, from rigging to pocket, were stuck in the wood at her feet, as if someone had been playing mumblypeg. Cate winced, vaguely recalling having flung a few things...maybe...

"I'm fine. I...Ouch! Dammit!" she said, plunging her finger into her mouth. The honing oil, combined with an untimely lurch of the ship, caused the knife to slip and sliced her finger.

Nathan drew the wounded digit out. The blood welled, but didn't spurt. He sucked the blood away and frowned intently as he inspected it.

"You'll do," he said.

"Since when you do carry a handkerchief?" Cate asked at seeing him pull one from his sleeve.

He cocked an eyebrow as he dabbed her finger with it. "Since I've been 'round you. I find an inordinate need for one, heretofore never experienced."

Cate's gaze fixed on his right hand as he tended hers. The cut, inflicted by Thomas' blade, was now bound in a bit of rag from heavens knew where. "Your hand should be looked at."

Nathan's mouth quivered with the effort to not smile. "It's fine."

While she knotted the cloth around her finger, Nathan collected the knives from the floor, depositing them in the basket. He stood back to regard her with an expectant fatherly look that she found altogether disquieting.

"Very well, let's have it," he finally said.

"You need to sit."

One eye narrowed, thinking it to be a jest. A scowl came with the realization that she wasn't.

"Very well." In exaggerated steps, Nathan went to his chair and sat.

Cate stood over him, looking down. "I need you calm."

"I am."

"No, you've a fist, and your lip is doing that little thing it does whenever you're upset."

"I'm not upset, I'm-" Nathan checked himself then made a made a great show of opening both hands, and then strained to rearrange his face.

"You're still tense."

"I'm not-"

"Sit back and relax."

"Goddamnit, I am relaxed. See!" Nathan drew back his lips into a smile that resembled a skull's grimace.

Cate stood back, but on second thought, pulled Nathan's pistol from his belt. A defiant gaze fixed on her, he reached across the table to slide the sharp-edged objects away from her.

"Now, promise you'll stay there."

"I'm not a ruddy dog...oh, very well," Nathan said over her objections. "Like the damned Number One anchor I'll be. On to it, then."

So overtly serene, Nathan was more a caricature and less at ease than ever. Cate took a deep breath. She had come this far; there was no turning back now.

"I need to beg a great favor."

The false smile faltered and Nathan blinked, thinking there was a trick in there somewhere. "I've bid you welcome to anything you desire," he said with measured caution.

Cate surreptitiously crossed her fingers in the folds of her skirts. "Yes, well, in that spirit...I wish to go fetch Prudence."

"What!" Nathan launched to his feet. "What the goddamned hell...? Are you trying to put me in an early grave?"

Her glare reminded Nathan of his pledge, and he sat heavily. He exhaled through his nose several times, and then scrubbed his hands tiredly over his face.

"Explain to me again, why we should be so all-fired concerned with this girl? Arranged marriages happen all the time. Why are you so fixated on this one?"

"I've told you." Unable to stand still, Cate set to stalking the cabin. "There's something about Prudence. I can't leave her to a hopeless marriage with a-"

"Bastard," Nathan finished, shrugging a half-apology. He leaned back in his chair and drew his fingers down the curve of his mustache. "Aren't you being a tad over-dramatic?"

"No." She paced the gallery. "Well, maybe a little. I sympathize."

His frown deepened. "I thought you said your marriage wasn't arranged."

"It wasn't-sort of. We probably would have married...eventually...if Brian's uncle would have allowed it."

"Then what has all this have to do with anything?"

"Her father, my father...Her family, my family..." she ended, lamely.