PRELUDE TO EL LOBO DEL MAR

[Welsh Wench]

Honour slammed the door to the cabin.
"BASTARD!" she yelled out loud.
To no one.

She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand and said to herself, 'Get a grip on yourself. Are you going to let a man see how much he hurt you? How much you care?'
Honour looked out the window and saw Bridgetown get closer. Within a half hour, they would be docked.
Almost mechanically, she started to clear the dresser drawer of her things and dump them into her trunks. The ship was so heavily damaged that it would be quite a while--if ever, if she had anything to do with it--before she would ever set foot back on El Lobo.

She opened the armoire and Li'l Puddin' was laying on the shelf. She picked him up and gave him a gentle hug.
"I think I'm going to miss you, Puddin'."
He batted her nose as she felt the tears welling up in her eyes again as she laid him in her arms and cuddled him.

"We're almost to port."
She turned around and Jack stood there in the doorway. She continued to pack, not saying a word to him.
"The ship is going right to dock and staying there. Everyone has been given shore leave. So I've arranged for us to take rooms at the White Hart."
"Rooms? More than one?"
"Not just for us. Cade Jennings is in port. I see his ship. It's been a standing arrangement that we stay there. I'll probably be in conference with Cade for the better part of the day. I have a few things to do before I leave the ship so you go on."
"In Bridgetown? Without an escort?"
"Take one of the crew if you don't feel safe. But as you are a former tavern wench, I should think you would feel comfortable walking through a port."
His reply stung and she felt the tears come unbidden to her eyes. She willed them away. She'd be damned if she let Jack Wolfe see her cry. No matter how much he hurt her, she would never let him see her cry ever again.
He turned to leave, his hand on the doorknob.
"Honour?"
"Yes?"
He hesitated. "Never mind. I'll see you at the White Hart."
She continued to fold her clothes.
"As you wish."

Bascomb, a crewmember, stuck his head in the cabin.
"Mrs. Wolfe, ma'am, we be sent by the captain to fetch yer trunks."
She closed the lid and locked it.
"That's everything, Bascomb."
"Lots of trunks, Mrs. Wolfe. You want to leave some on board?"
"No." Her answer came a bit too swiftly. "I'll take it all, thank you."
Bascomb nodded and motioned to the other two crew members to take her trunks.

Honour brushed her hair out and wrapped her cloak around her. For some reason, the breeze was exceptionally cool for June. Almost as if it were a sign. An omen sent from...Bonita?
She shook her head and said in a quiet undertone, 'Impossible.'

Walking along the deck, she saw her husband directing his crew right and left, giving commands. He was almost back to the Captain Jack Wolfe she fell in love with. But something had changed. A slight change in his demeanor? But a change none the less.
For a brief second, she caught his glance. Or so she thought. Maybe not. He kept giving instructions. Then she saw him walk over to Briggs and the two of them disappeared to the quarterdeck.
Seh tightened the cloak around her and tilted her chin defiantly as she walked down the gangplank and towards the port.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Room for Captain and Mrs. Jack Wolfe."
The innkeeper stared. "Ma'am? You just said MRS. Jack Wolfe?"
She nodded. The innkeeper said under his breath, "Well, I'll be! Ol' Jack done taken the vows."
He handed her the keys and then grinned. "Up the stairs, second door on the left."

"Honour...um, Mrs. Wolfe? Thank God you are alright!"
She turned to look into the face of Cade Jennings.
His pleasure at seeing her reflected in his grey-green eyes and something else...relief? Concern?
"Mr. Jennings!"
"I was worried sick about you and the Captain. You were delayed over four days."
""We ran into a bit of trouble."
"A BIT? I'd say El Lobo sustained extensive damage. What the hell happened, did you battle a Kraken?"
"Just about. It was a Spanish ship named The Mecedes."
"Mother of God! Captain Mendoza! Is Jack alright?"
"Yes. It's a long story and I need to get to my room, Cade."
"Then you can tell me over an ale in the tavern. Why don't you freshen up and I'll meet you down here in a half hour?"
"I think Jack can tell it better than I could."
Cade shook his head. "Jack would just candy-coat it. I want the unvarnished truth."
He took her hands. "Please say you will meet me."
She gave him a slight smile and said, "A half hour. I'll be here."

[Welsh Wench]

Honour gazed around the room. It was simply furnished with a brass bed and a chest of drawers. A writing table stood in the corner with a candlestick and holder. Very sparse. She sighed. 'Not exactly the room we had in Castara Bay....I guess Jack forgot a woman is used to some of the niceties of life.'

Bascomb and his men had delivered the trunks and Honour shook out a dress of rose pink. She stepped out of the dress she had on and filled a basin of water from the pitcher. As she looked in the mirror, she was startled at the face reflected back. Her face was drawn and there were shadows under her eyes.
'Just a rough week', she thought. 'I'm exhausted.'
She thought how nice it would be to get into a decent dress and sit down to a table that wasn't rocking. Brushing her hair and letting it loose, she stepped into the dress and laced up a pair of boots. She looked in the trunk and saw something buried deep but the corner was peeking out.
It was a lavender lace shawl.
The gift left behind for her from Cade Jennings.

She descended the stairs and walked into the tavern. Cade Jennings was sitting in a table in the back. He quickly rose when she walked into the room.
Pulling the chair out, he said, "I'm so pleased you could join me, Honour."
She gave him a smile. "It feels so good to be on dry land."
"I see you found my present to you before you left."
She touched it and said softly, "It is beautiful."
"As is the woman that wears it."
She could feel the colour rising in her cheeks.
"What would you like?" Cade asked.
"If you don't mind, I'll forego the ale and have a small glass of wine."
Cade signalled for the barkeep and gave him their order.
"Now...what happened?"

Honour related how Jack was quite agitated before they left the port of Castara Bay. How he seemed to relax once the port was behind them.
Relaxed...until the Mercedes came into the spy glass and all hell broke loose.
The maneuvering of El Lobo.
The battle.
The sniper and Jack falling to the deck.

She caught her breath as she related how she had to dig the musketball out of Jack's shoulder.
"Cade, I was never so nervous in my life. Dr. Gander said I did an excellent job and that I saved his life with my make-shift medical skills. Jack guided me through it until he became unconscious."
Cade took her hand and said solemnly, "Honour, you are quite a woman. Most wives would fold up at seeing her husband felled right in front of them."
She blushed slightly and looked down.
"I did what I had to do to keep my husband alive."
Cade felt his heart drop a little at the words 'my husband'. How much easier it was to think of them as 'Honour' and 'Jack' instead of husband and wife.
He cleared his throat.
"And how is Jack recuperating?"
Honour grew quiet and then picked her words carefully.
"Dr. Gander kept him in the infirmary and dosed him with morphine because Jack was still in shock. He was trying to run the ship yet he was as weak as a kitten. Duckie said he needed to rest and replenish his blood loss."
"Makes sense. Jack has always thought himself invincible as long as I have known him."
She shook her head. "It--it's something else. I almost think that he wanted to be there. Like he didn't want to be near me. He's been curt and irritated with me and we haven't...we haven't.... my God ,Cade, we have only been married for three weeks!" she blurted out.
She didn't need to finish the thought.
No boots under her bed there, Cade thought.
Cade took her hand in his.
Don't worry, Honour. I'll be here for you. And for Jack."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bascomb and a crewmate named Teague entered the tavern of the White Hart. As was the habit of pyrates, they quickly scanned the tavern and tallied numbers mentally.
Teague nodded in the direction towards the back. "Look'ee there!"
Bascomb looked to see Honour and Cade in earnest conversation, holding hands. Bascomb narrowed his eyes. "Dinna waste any time, did she?"
"You gonna tell the Captain?"
"Not me. You know how he is. He'll string up the bearer of bad news."
Teague shrugged, "T'will all come out eventually anyways...."

Cade pulled the chair out for Honour.
"Thank you, Cade. The stew and bread were delicious."
He took her shawl and wrapped it around her, like a mother would her child.
"Can't have you out in the breeze. For June it is a bit windy."
She felt her face get a bit warm at the concern that Cade was showing her. Jack never really did. Jack was all enthusiasm.
"Would you care to go for a bit of a stroll, Honour?"
She thought for a moment and then broke out in a smile. "I'd love to. I lived in St Lawrence but never did get over to Bridgetown."
He offered her his arm and she gently placed her hand on his arm.
As they passed by, Cade nodded to Bascomb and Teague.

Teague shook his head, "T'ain't right. T'ain't right at all."
Bascomb lit his pipe. "Not much ye can do 'bout it. Everyone knows ye dinna mess wit' what belong to th' captain."
"When he sees Jennings, his life ain't worth the powder to blow him away. Where you suspect Mad Jack be anyways?"
Bascomb took the pipe out of his mouth and pointed it towards the town.
"Cap'n always pays a visit to 'is Bridgetown lady."
"Cap'n got a lady in town?"
Bascomb chuckled. "Well, not a lady per se."
"But Cap'n is a married man now. Got a right bonnie bride now. An' young."
Bascomb shrugged. "Ol' habits die hard."
They both looked at each other and burst out laughing.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Jack emerged from the shipyard after a gruelling marathon of haggling over repairs needed to make his ship whole again. The heavy sky matched his mood, knowing now that he would be shackled to dry land for nearly a full month. Longer still, should Honour have her way. He decided to avoid the bustle of Broad Street and opted for the more circuitous route through side streets and alleyways back to the inn. The grey overcast muted everything into a monotone palette and seemed to blur everything together in his preoccupied mind. He paused at the end of an alley as a carriage rolled past, when he saw a familiar house just down the lane. It was painted gaily, in colours that made it stand out a bit from the surrounding houses. A smile managed to find its way into his face. Jack knew the house well. It belonged to Renée de Bertrand, or Madame Renée as she was known to the women who resided at her "boarding house". He couldn't see any harm in dropping by to visit an old friend long as he was in the neighbourhood. She was bound to find out about his marriage from some wag. Might as well be him, he decided. 

There were two doors on the front of the house; one unpainted, with a plain brass handle, and another trimmed with red paint, with an ornate brass knocker and no exterior handle. He went to the second door and rapped three times, paused, once, paused again, then twice more. After a few moments the door opened just a little, preventing him from seeing who was on the other side. It was Renée's custom to keep a couple of burly lads on hand to manage unruly clientèle and nosey outsiders. 

"Yes, hallo? Is Madame de Bertrand about? Tell her there's a Jack Wolfe at her door-"
He had barely finished the pun when the door swung open. Two hands grabbed him by the collar of his waistcoat and puled him inside. He found himself pinned against the wall of a narrow hallway. Before he could protest the rough treatment, his assailant pressed her warm, soft lips hungrily against his. Ordinarily he would have gladly gone wherever such a cordial greeting led, but the pain in his shoulder and an uncharacteristic flash of conscience conspired to leave him more startled than enthused.??
"Owwww..." he managed to say around her insistent kiss.??The raven-haired girl broke their embrace, her brilliant blue eyes were still full of fire.
"I'm sorry. Did I bite you?" she asked in a heavy whisper.??
"No, my shoulder," Jack began,??"Silly man. I was nowhere near your shoulder... yet," she cooed.
??"Angelique, darling, I'm here strictly on a social call. Now, where's Renée?"

The pretty girl gave him an exaggerated pout. "Oh, fine then. But you owe me!" She grabbed two great handfuls of skirt and stomped off down the hall, Jack following in her wake. He stopped at the main parlour and helped himself to the house's fine selection of liquor while he waited. He'd settled comfortably onto a velvet covered Roman couch when Renée appeared at the doorway.

She was a striking woman with long auburn hair and a disarming smile. She wore a heavily embroidered purple dress, and a necklace of pearls adorned her neck.
"Jackie Wolfe, as I live and breathe!" she said happily. "I thought you'd still be down in Castara..." Her voice trailed off when she noticed his drawn and dishevelled state. "Oh, dear God. What happened to you? You're a bloody wreck!"
"Mendoza," said Jack. "Among other things."
She fetched a glass and set it down on the table in from of him. "Pour and talk. I hope you finally bagged that sodding bastard."
"I do, too."
"What?! You didn't hang about and finish him?"

Jack finished off his glass and poured another. "He was crippled and burning when we broke off. We had troubles enough of our own to even think of risking a boarding action."
"Trouble," Renée said thoughtfully. If I had a penny for every time I've heard a man use that word when his wife is involved." 
Jack nearly choked on his drink. "Who told you?"
"Oh, please, Jackie," she laughed. "A whisper's as good as a shout on this island. And getting married in the street isn't exactly low profile. Bound to get tongues wagging, even if you weren't the great Captain Wolfe. I take it that bit of news was the reason for this social call, not just to tell me you nearly got your precious ship shot out from under you? Or are you going to tell me what's really got you lower than a well digger's arse?"

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

He stared into his glass as he swirled the dark liquid around and around. "The Lobo will be in the yards for nearly a full month."
"So what?" she asked bluntly. "Keep yourself busy. It's not the first time you've been landlocked for a spell. At least this time you've got that pretty young bride to take your mind off things. Her belly will be swelled up in no time, knowing you. Daddy." She capped her friendly jab with a sly wink, but Jack wasn't laughing.
"Yes, well..." he said haltingly. "Honour- that's her name- has her mind..."
"'Honour'?"
"Yeah. Honour Bright."
"What the hell kind of name is 'Honour Bright'?"
"Welsh?"
"I rather doubt it," she scoffed. "Sounds like an alias to me. You can't be too careful of anyone going under an alias."

"This, coming from Pip Woolston of Cornwall? Sage advice," he quipped.
Renée stuck her tongue out. "Your bright idea, don't forget. Mister 'You can't run a proper whorehouse with a farm girl's name'. Go on, finish your thought."
Jack sighed heavily. "We've talked about buying a plantation here on Barbados. He paused to drain his glass. "About me quitting the Trade once and for all."
"Oooh, landed gentry! Jack Wolfe, gentleman farmer and pillar of the community. It's got a ring to it, it does."
"I thought you'd be a bit more surprised as all that," he said glumly.
Renée laughed. "Rubbish! It's not anything you haven't daydreamed about for the past two years. Although this has to be the most sober you've been talking about it. So where's the problem? The daydream's about to come true, and you can't seem to get the salt water out of your veins?"
"If you're intent on engaging in gross oversimplification, yes. Something like that, I suppose."
"Oh, Jackie. Stop and think things through, would you, you silly git? What if all this is the opportunity you've been waiting for? No more looking over your shoulder. No more running. You've settled your score with Mendoza, and narrowly escaped with your ship and sorry hide largely intact. You've got a wife and the means for a fresh start. Do you realize the number of folk who'd give their right arm for the chance you've been handed?"

Jack shifted uneasily in his seat. "That's your advice, then? Chuck it all, trade in my ship for sugar cane fields and my crew for a house full of mewling children?" He took the bottle to pour more liquor for himself, but this time Renée put her hand over his glass.
"I'm saying it's time for you to grow up and do right by... what's her name again?"
"Honour."
"I'll never get used to that one. Anyway, you've got responsibilities and obligations now. Ones that mean something. Most of all, you've got a real chance, Jackie! Call in your favours with that preening windbag Culley for a full pardon and be done with it."

Jack sat back and thought for a few moments. Once again, Renée was right. It didn't make accepting the truth of it any easier, but he couldn't argue her logic. Such decisions weren't just about him any more. Honour had equal shares and equal stakes in the enterprise.
"You have a damnably annoying habit of pointing out my shortcomings, love," he finally admitted.
"Thank goodness none of them are physical," she said with a wink. "As your friend, I want to see you happy. As your business partner, I need you to have a clear head about you. Speaking of partners, where's Ducks? Usually he's the one stuck pounding some sense into your thick skull."

"We had a falling out, I'm afraid," he said sheepishly.
"That's my Jackie," she said with a roll of her emerald eyes. "Why burn one bridge where two or three are just as easy? Go. Go back the White Hart, heal up that shoulder, and start mending fences. That alone should keep you busy for the next month. Oh, and before I forget again, I came across something you might be interested in."
She crossed to a small writing desk and retrieved a folded, wax-sealed piece of paper. She looked at it for a moment, then handed it to Jack.
"What's this?" he asked.
"A bit of information you've been looking for. Go on, open it up! You're lucky enough I found it, I'll be damned if I'll read it to you as well," she said slyly.
He broke open the seal and read the words on the page.

Prof. Armand LaFourche
43 Rue Bacas
St. Pierre, Île Martinique

He stared at the page in disbelief. "How did you find him? I've been trying for nearly a year!"
"A dealer in antiquities stopped in about two weeks ago. The girls knew you've been after this professor bloke, and Annie managed to get him chatting after a few well placed, um, questions. I hope it turns out useful for you. Seems LaFourche's search for whatever it is that piqued your interest drove him right off his nut. He's under the care of his young daughter, Ceily. If he's really gone all loony, you two should get along famously."
"I'd imagine the good fellow's not using his journal any more," mused Jack. "Someone really should take up his research, all in the name of science of course."
Renée chuckled. "The science of filling your purse, more like it. And what a grand cause it is."

He folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket. "Much obliged, Renée. I'll be holding onto this for a rainy day. After I mend those fences."
"Well, I'll be damned," she said. "You really do love her! The Jackie I know would be out the door and on his way without a second thought."
"Keep it between us, love. I've got a reputation to think of." He rose from the couch and put on his hat. "Thanks for setting me straight, Renée. You've lifted my spirits yet again."
"A swift kick is what you needed," she laughed. "I'd be lifting more that your spirits, darling, but you're a married man now. Now get out of here and convince that wife of yours that you haven't really turned into some horrid troll."

They exchanged smiles and he turned to leave. "Oh, Jackie? I'm curious," she said hesitantly. "How did our Bonita take meeting the lovely missus?"
He cocked an eyebrow. "As well as one might expect, I suppose." With that, he patted his pocket and with a wink, departed.

The colour drained from Renée's face. "Oh, that's not good."

[Welsh Wench]

"And over there is the Governor's house." Cade pointed to a large colonial house. "I've heard he has a very well-kept library."
Honour looked over at the house. "And so near the center of town, too."
She looked down the lane. "And what house is that with the two doors?"
Cade shifted a bit, his face taking on a bit of a blush. "That's Madame Renee's. She runs a 'boarding house'. She's a good sort and contributes alot to the local economy."
"Why the two doors?"
"Well, one is for the townsfolk and respectable business and the red one is for...visitors."
"Oh." She said quietly. "St Lawrence had them too over by the dock but they didn't mind if you used the same door."
"Well, one of her business partners suggested it. Would you like to stop for a light refreshment? I know a place over on Broad Street."

Cade was busy telling her about the goldsmiths and jewelry-makers in port to notice Honour's gaze back at the house of Madame Renee's.
It was then that she saw a familiar tricorn hat at the red door. With an even more familiar face under it. She watched as a beautiful woman with long auburn hair touch the man's face and give him a kiss. The man patted his pocket and took the woman's hand and kissed it.
Then he ran down the steps and leaped over the gate, a jaunty step to his walk.
Yes, she'd know that tricorn anywhere.
Because under it was her husband.

She felt light-headed and Cade turned his attention to her.
"...and they specialize in Brittania silver with gems as big as..HONOUR! Are you alright?"
For a brief second, Cade thought he saw despair in her eyes but as quickly as he thought it was there, her blue eyes reflected a steely look.
"I'm sorry, Cade. I think it was just a momentary feeling of light-headedness. It comes and goes."
"Shall we sit down?"
She glanced back to the retreating form of Jack.
She drew the lavender shawl closer to her and took Cade's arm in hers. "I'd like that. And a cup of tea would be wonderful."

Cade and Honour spent the afternoon in the bazaar where Cade showed her the merchants. They watched a goldsmith melt down ore and they stopped to observe a glassblower fashion a vase. There was merchandise from all over the world. Before they knew it, the sun was starting to dip down in the sky.
"I'm sorry to have monopolized your time, Honour. The afternoon just slipped away."
She leaned on his arm, looking up at him with her blue eyes and tossed her blonde hair.
"I'm not sorry, Cade. I can't remember when I have enjoyed the afternoon so much."

She had put her arm through his and for all appearances, they were a couple.
He felt a warmth flood through him, totally ignoring the voice inside him that was saying, 'You stupid lout! That is your best friend's wife....'

He walked her to the tavern door. "Best allow me to walk you to your room, Honour."
She shook her head. "No, it won't do for you to be seen in my hallway. I am sure Jack is up there by now. I'll perhaps see you on the morrow?"
Cade tipped his hat to her. "You can count on it."
Honour drew him close to her in the shadows and reached up, drawing his face towards her. For a brief moment, they looked into each other's eyes. Cade couldn't be sure but did he see a glimmer of hurt in her eyes?
She closed her eyes and parted her lips. Cade was drawn like a moth to a flame. He touched her hair as he drew her face closer to him. The kiss was like a spark catching fire. When they parted, he saw a touch of a blush on her face as she whispered, "Goodnight, Cade."
And she turned towards the stairs.
Cade stood there watching her ascend and then went out the tavern door.

Teague turned to Bascomb and said in a hushed voice, "If I dinna see it wi' me own eyes, I'da not believed it."
Bascomb shook his head. "The new Missus Wolfe an' Cade Jennings? Lord ha' mercy, Mad Jack will kill 'em both!"
Teague replied, " 'e ain't gonna hear it from me. Whatcha goin' ter do, Bascomb?'
Bascomb's eyes turned flinty. "Take it to Briggs and let him deal with it."
They went back to their ales.

Honour stopped at the top of the stairs and counted two doors down. She fumbled in her purse for the key when she heard a strange noise from the room. It sounded like someone playing a..violin? And not just any tune. But a gypsy tune. It can't be Jack..he doesn't know how to play a violin.
As she put the key in the lock, she heard the music stop. Opening up the door, she saw her husband sitting there on the bed taking his boots off.
"Ah, there you are! I was about to start searching the vendors for you. Where were you?"
She hung up her lavender shawl, touching the fringe and not daring to look him in the face.
"I was out seeing the sites. And yes, visiting the merchants."
"By yourself?"
"Yes. By myself." She hid her face to conceal the blush.
"Jack, I heard music from this room."
Jack shrugged, "Must be from the tavern across the street."
"But...it came from here."
"You're mistaken, Honour. What would I be doing with a violin?"
"Who said it was a violin?"
Jack grew quiet. "I just assumed it was. Guess I heard it too and never paid heed to it."

He put his arms around her and kissed her. She felt herself holding herself at a distance. How could she confront him on where he had been? He would just lie to her...
He unlaced her and her dress fell in a silken puddle on the floor.

That night, as he laid next to her sleeping, she fought back tears. It seemed the tenderness was gone when they made love. Made love? More like Jack had used her. She vowed she would never let Jack Wolfe know how he hurt her. Married three weeks and he was already up to his old habits. She never denied him before. Why would he have to turn to another woman?
Somehow...some way, Jack Wolfe...you'll be sorry.
She sat up and wiped a tear away from her face. 'You'll be sorry you ever used me like a common strumpet, Jack. Just you wait....'
She fought the sick feeling that came over her. She slipped out of bed and as she did, her foot bumped against something peeking out from under the bed. She bent down and pulled it out.
It was a violin.

Honour ran her hand over the instrument, it being well-worn and used. Like it had been in someone's family for a long time or had been lovingly played. She looked over at Jack sleeping soundly.
'You lied to me, Jack Wolfe. How many other lies have you told me?'
She quietly slid the violin back under the bed and laid back against the pillows.
Her stomach lurched at the fact that the man whose bed she slept in and made love with was a complete stranger to her. Was she just a commodity, someone for Jack to use? Suddenly she felt worthless.

'Some wives would just turn a blind eye to it, Jack,' she whispered. 'But not me..oh, not me. No one uses Rhiannon Conaway. Not in this lifetime or any other.'

With that, she rolled over, taking most of the covers.
'Deal with it, Jack. Just...deal with it.'
And she fell asleep.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Jack awoke to the chill of a morning breeze wafting over his skin. The sun had broken the horizon, bathing the room with a soft orange-rose glow. Unwilling to rise or, more to the point, leave his bride's side just yet, he reached to pull up the covers. He quickly discovered the reason for his chilly awakening; Honour had wrapped herself in the majority of the bed covers like a caterpillar in its cocoon. He smiled and and gently stroked her long golden hair, then tenderly kissed the nape of her neck.

Honour was already awake. She had been off and on throughout the night, her sleep plagued by suspicions of the man she called husband but now saw as a stranger. She willed herself not to shrink from his touch, the same touch that only days before could ignite her passions like summer lightning, by imagining for the most fleeting of moments that it was Cade who caressed her. Just as she had the night before.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Jack whispered. Honour pretended to stir from slumber, but did not turn to face him.
"Good morning," she replied, trying to infuse her voice with something resembling warmth.
"How on earth am I supposed to show my appreciation for your beauty when you're wrapped up like a mummy?"
"I'm sorry, Jack," she replied. "I've woken up with a headache."
"Should I send Duckie round to check on you?"
"No, I'll be fine. I just want to sleep."

He kissed her head gently and got up from the bed.
"I have some ship's business to attend to. Shouldn't be more than a couple of hours at most."
He splashed his face with water, then set about getting dressed.
"If you're not feeling any better by the time I get back, I'm sending for Duckie. Wouldn't do to have you fall ill, now would it?"
"Oh, all right," she sighed. "But I'll be better after I rest. Don't worry yourself."
"Of course I'll worry about you!" he said cheerily. "I'm your husband. It's my job to worry about you." He gave his boots a final tug and retrieved his hat from the bedpost. "Sleep tight, darling. I'll be back soon."

So I'm a job to him, not just a commodity, Honour thought as Jack closed the door. She'd had enough. She was going to find out what he was up to once and for all. She silently counted out a full minute, then sprung from the bed and dressed hurriedly to follow him, hopefully to the truth. No matter what the result, she had to know. She quickly brushed out her hair and pulled it back into a simple braid. The last time she'd thrown herself together this quickly, she was rushing to meet Rhys after being waylaid by a talkative novitiate. If only this was as happy an occasion.

She watched out the window for Jack to emerge so she could being her pursuit. Finally, he did.

Jack strolled out of the White Hart's front door, whistling a cheerful tune. For the first time since the battle with Mendoza, his heart was light. It had felt so good to make love with Honour once again. He felt like a fool for pushing her away, but he was now bound and determined to make up for his mistakes. Today's business was that of atonement.

As he approached the alleyway next to the inn, he could hear a raucous conversation going on, most likely men gaming at dice. What he heard during a pause in their laughter, however, soured his mood in an instant.

"Seen it wif' they own eyes, they did! That Jennings didn't waste no time getting' 'is hooks into ol' Jack's wife! Stole a kiss on the stairs what was more'n just friendly, what after paradin' 'er about town big as you please, 'e did! An' she weren't upset by it none neither, if ye get me meanin'! Looked right 'appy on 'is arm she did, like they's th' married ones!"
"Ha! That Jack gone an' taught Cade a littl' too well, didn' 'e?"
"You're daft is what you are, the both of ya's! Jack Wolfe, a cuckold after less than a month? Never 'appen. Not an' they live t' enjoy it."
"God's own trufe, mate. Ask 'em yerself an' they'll tell ye same as I 'bout Jennings an' that little trollop..."

"Who will tell us?" a voice boomed from the end of the alley. The three men turned to see a silhouetted figured walking slowly toward them. They grouped together and backed away from the advancing man. He drew his sword and quickened his pace. "Answer me, damn you!"

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

The men broke ranks and ran. One man became tangled in an old crate and fell to the ground. Before he could get back up, he felt the cold edge of a cutlass against his throat. Jack stared down at the prone man, his eyes like flames. "I'll have names, or your blood. I'm not inclined to be choosy."

"I- I don' know! 'e tol' us, but I don' remember, I swear it on me Mum's life! Please don' kill me, Cap'n Wolfe! I'm beggin' ye!" the man pleaded.
"Then take this back to your friends, you miserable, feculent tosspot!" Jack growled. "The next man who so much as thinks about uttering such scandalous lies about my wife, I'll cut their heart out and feed it to them."
He stared into the sailor's eyes with burning hatred until he could see that the message had taken hold. Then he stepped back from the man, turned on his heel, and returned his blade to its scabbard as he stalked back down the alley.

Honour stepped through the inn's doorway and into the brilliant sunlight. She shielded her eyes and looked down the street in the direction she'd seen Jack walk, but he was nowhere in sight. As she began walking, she heard the heavy sound of boot heels striking the cobblestones of the alley just ahead. She knew that sound anywhere. It was Jack! Panic took her for a moment, and she turned back the way she'd come just as her husband turned the corner. A silent prayer was on her lips that he wouldn't discover her. Thanks to his preoccupation with the rumours he'd just heard and the simple manner in which Honour had dressed that day, he never noticed her as she backtracked toward the inn. She sighed with relief as the sound of his footsteps faded down the lane. When she was confident he was far enough away, she turned around to follow. She paid little attention at first to the dishevelled soul who came from the alley as she walked past, but there was something familiar about him that made her look back. He was a crewman from the Lobo. The expression on his face left her shaken to the core. It was the look of disgust a pious man gives a common harlot.

Guilt about the time she'd shared with Cade yesterday gnawed at her as she followed Jack through the streets of Bridgetown. She knew it was wrong of her to kiss Cade, but he'd been so kind and attentive to her. He'd shown her the respect and tenderness Jack seemed to have forgotten. Her mind returned again and again to that one sweet, stolen moment. And if that kiss was so wrong, why did it feel so sensually wonderful? Why did it feel right? Besides, she asked herself, since when did Jack Wolfe give a damn about right and wrong? If he could live his life in shades of grey, so could she.

Honour quickened her pace to close the gap between them as they approached the street where Renee's "boarding house" was. She was confident he was headed back to that nest of strumpets. Her heart pounded and ached as she waited for him to turn down her street and walk up to that horrible red door. To her astonishment, he kept walking. He never so much as looked in the direction of the house. Where was he going? She'd been so certain she would catch him in an act of betrayal. Now thoroughly confused as to her husband's attention, she followed on.

After two more blocks, they entered the city's warehouse district. Low, wide buildings with only a few windows mounted well above street level lined the carriageway. Jack finally stopped at the entrance to one of the nondescript buildings, where he was joined by none other than Josiah Briggs. Honour ducked around a corner to avoid being seen, then gingerly peeked back out to continue her spying. Doubt began to cloud her thoughts as she watched the two men talk. It didn't change the fact she'd seen him waltzing out of a whorehouse the previous day. But maybe this time he'd actually told her the truth.

Finally, Jack and Briggs went into the warehouse, allowing her to creep closer so as to listen in on their conversation. She had to know if there was a shred of truth left in anything he said. The two tall,wide doors of the warehouse were left standing open. She slipped up to the entrance and flattened herself against one of them. The men's voices echoed in the cavernous building, making her goal of listening in that much easier to attain. She could hear them walking around, their conversation little more than friendly chit chat. Now and again she'd steal a glimpse of the warehouse's interior. Boxes, bundles, and barrels were stacked haphazardly in no discernible order, much like the hold of the Lobo had been. At long last, their discussion turned to something of interest to her.

"And the guilders, where are they at?" asked Jack.
"Right over here," answered Briggs. He pulled a tarpaulin off the several large crates marked "PRINT WORKS" in Dutch. "All twenty-seven chests, just as they were when we left for Castara."
"Good. I need them re-crated. All but five. The rest are to be moved to the private storehouse on St. Michael Street. The remaining five are to be put under lock and key here."
"Aye, it'll be done. To number 11 it is. I'm guessin' you'll want their whereabouts kept secret, as usual?"
"Absolutely. We'll be using the money from here to buy that plantation Honour and I talked about."

She could scarcely believe her ears. He wants the plantation now? Maybe he's really had a change of heart. Maybe he was only telling Renee about their marriage, and it wasn't what it looked like...

"You're goin' through with it? Turnin' from corsair to cane farmer?"
Jack laughed. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Josiah. It's a good investment no matter how you look at it."
"I take it ye'll be lettin' the missus know about chests we're movin' as well? A little butter and egg money, as it were?"
"No," said Jack. "You and I are the only ones to know where they are. Honour doesn't need to know."

Honour clamped her hand over her mouth to smother a gasp. He was hiding the money from the Dutch ship from her? The ones he's boasted about when they met? She wondered what elaborate lie he'd concoct to cover their whereabouts. Damn him! So he didn't trust her after all. Her mind offered up a myriad of reasons why he'd hide so much money from her. He'll probably use it to keep that damnable doxy in satins and lace, the bastard!

"Fair enough," Briggs said. "It'll stay a secret. Not sayin' I agree, but I'll keep it mum."

'At least Briggs tries to be a voice of reason, for what good it did,' she thought

"That'll do, Josiah. How are repairs going on the ship?"

That damned ship of his. I wish he'd get rid of it!

"Comin' along well. Seems the structural damage weren't near as bad as we'd thought. Should be ready to sail a week early!"

No...

"Excellent. I want her made as good as new, with all her teeth! Ready to sail and fight."

Tears welled in Honour's eyes. He was going to leave her there on that island and sail off, the son of a b*tch! Probably get himself killed and leave her alone to fend for herself. She'd heard enough. Choking back tears, she fled from the warehouse district. She needed someone to talk to, someone she could trust. Why was Kate so far away when she needed her? Then it dawned on her. Duckie! He'd been quick to defend her when Jack had been so awful to her on the ship. She could trust him. She already had with her secret, and he hadn't let her down.
"Damn you, Jack Wolfe!" she sobbed. "I'm never going to let you hurt me again!"

"So you're goin' ahead with the sale?" Briggs asked.
"That's why I want her shining like a new penny, my friend. If I have to sell her, I want top price!"
"Have ye' told Honour about all this yet?"
"I want it to be a surprise for her. The sale of the Lobo, purchase of the plantation, and those chests we're moving will comprise the nest egg for the next generation of the Wolfe family," Jack said proudly.
Briggs laughed heartily. "Hell, Jack, I never dreamed I'd see the day, but it does this old salt's heart good! You, a pappy? God help us all!"
Jack smiled, but the events of the morning were still weighing on his mind. "Josiah, I have a question, and I need you to be honest with me."
"Aye, ye know I usually am. Unless you're bein' a roarin' pain in the arse. No point in talkin' to ye then.
"When am I like that?"
"Most days what end in a 'y'," Briggs joked.
"Remind me to send you flowers next time. Seriously, though. Have you heard any troubling rumours from the men?" asked Jack.
"Ye mean outside the usual scuttlebutt?"
"Yes. Anything about myself or... or any other parties?"
"No, I haven't. Why? Have you?" Briggs asked with concern.
"I'm not certain. It was probably nothing more than idle gossip."
"Jack," said Briggs, "You and I know half these men yap just to hear their fool heads rattle. It was about Honour, wasn't it? Otherwise ye wouldn't be askin'."
Jack's jaw clenched as he remembered the slurs against his wife. "Yes. It was."

The quartermaster shook his head slowly. "She's a beautiful woman, my friend. Everyone can see the effect she's had on ye, and there are those who'll begrudge you that bit of fortune." He put a reassuring hand on Jack's shoulder. "Whatever was said, there ain't a shred of truth to it. Pay it no never mind. Come tomorrow, they'll be on to some other foolishness."
"Thank you, Josiah. I'll take your advice. My skin is usually thicker than this."
"It's worse when it's about those ye love, mate. It'll pass, believe me. Now, didn't ye say ye had some other business to tend to? You're slowin' me down with all your chatter! Turn yer rudder and shove off!"

Jack smiled at his friend, and walked off toward the shipyards.

[Welsh Wench]

Honour walked quickly away from the warehouse district heading back to the inn. Her thoughts were lost in a jumble as she remembered bits and pieces of overheard conversation. The plantation...the sale of El Lobo del Mar..guilders....secrets...secrets..more secrets...
"Ooof!"
She ran into a man who caught her by the arms.
"Honour!"
"Duckie!"
"You alright?"
She looked down at the ground and shook her head. When she lifted it up, Duckie saw nothing but distress in her eyes.
"You look like you need to talk. Tell you what...I haven't had lunch and I bet you haven't either. So what do you say I pick up some bread and cheese and a bottle of wine and we go over to the grassy area over by the dock and spread a blanket down and just have a nice visit. Will that help?"
She nodded. "I'd like that."

Within a half hour, they were sitting on the ground. Duckie had his shirt sleeves rolled up and he was pouring a small glass of sherry for her.
"Now..what is on your mind, Mrs. Wolfe?"
"That is the problem."
"The sherry?"
"No. The 'Mrs. Wolfe' part."
"I don't understand."
"The more I find out about Jack, the more I realize I don't know who he is."
"Well, you DID get married in a fever, as it were."
"May I ask you a question?"
"You can ask. Don't know if I will answer."

She took a deep breath. "I heard music. Gypsy music. And it was coming from our room. I asked Jack about it and he denied hearing it. Later that night, I went to get out of bed and my foot hit something. It was a violin, old and worn, under the bed. Duckie, why would he lie to me? And what else hasn't he told me?"

Duckie sighed. "Honour, Jack Wolfe has taken alot of blows in his life. He's done things and had things done to him the average man would fold up and crumble."
"Where did he learn to play the violin?"
He cut a piece of cheese off a wheel and handed her a piece along with some fruit. "In Lorient."
"Lorient....France?"
Duckie nodded. "Before he took the Mercedes as his own and renamed her El Lobo del Mar, he was sailing under a Captain Will Harkness. Their ship was dry-docked in Lorient for two months while it underwent extensive repairs. Jack, being the scholar he is, ended up talking to a gypsy..his name was Reuben--and he was the chieftain. He invited Jack back to the camp and they immediately took a liking to him. So much so that he would go to their camp every night and sit around the campfire and even eat dinner with them. Reuben taught him to play the violin.. Jack learned old gypsy tunes at the feet of Reuben. Now, Jack was only about twenty-one at this time and he was a quick learner. When it was time for Jack to ship out, Reuben--being the emotional people they are--gifted Jack with a violin that was his grandfather's. Jack has cherished it ever since."

Honour bit into an apple. "But why did he lie to me, Duckie? I would love to hear him play."
Duckie cut off a slice of bread.
"Because Jack is a private person. Ever since I have known him, he has a vulnerable side he won't show to the world. Jack IS a wolf. A wolf without a pack. He'd gnaw his foot off before he would show his hurt. And he always found solace in music. Says it helps him relax and think."

Honour stood up and brushed the crumbs from her skirt.
"Thank you, Duckie. And I'll keep this to myself."
"I'd appreciate it, my dear. I am sure in due time more of Jack will be revealed to you. He finds it hard to trust. He's been dealt a few bad hands in life."
Honour gathered her shawl and said, "I'm heading back to the inn. The last week has taken its toll on me and I'm tired. I'll see you later."

As she walked off, Duckie looked at her retreating form. If there were anyone who was the opposite of Rose, it was Honour Bright.
'Honour, don't do it. Don't break his heart. I don't know if it can take another blow...'


~~~~~~~~~~~~
As Honour made her way to the inn where she and Jack had a room, she entered through the tavern door. Cade Jennings was having an ale with a few of his friends from El Lobo.
He caught sight of her and rushed over to her, the pleasure of seeing her undeniable on his face.
"Honour! How grand to see you! I thought you might be with--" he couldn't quite bring himself to say 'your husband'--"or shopping. Would you care for something to eat? Something to drink?"
She shook her head no. "I'm a bit tired, Cade. I'm afraid that the crossing to Barbados took more out of me than I expected it would. I'm usually of sturdier stock but the battle and all that..."

Cade touched her shawl and pulled it up around her shoulders. He said softly, "It wouldn't do for you to catch a chill, would it now?"
Her hand accidentally brushed against his. She said softly, "I'll be alright."
He brushed her hair back from her shoulder and said, "You always are a bit of alright, milady."
"Cade?"
"Yes?"
"N--never mind. I shall see you around later, perhaps?"
"I shall be here."

She started up the stairs and turned back for a second. Cade was looking at her with a look of tenderness that Honour hadn't seen on a man's face in a while. She hurried back up the stairs.

Hennessey and Dolan, the two crewmates that Cade had been sitting with, watched the exchange. Dolan nudged his mate and whispered, "Looks like maybe Bascomb and Teague weren't too far off the mark. Cade looks downright smitten."
Hennessey nodded. "Just hopin' ol' Jack gets his ship ready to sail and takes 'er out o' here and away from Jennings. I like Cade. Don't want to see him run through."
"Then let's be hopin' that it don't look like what it be lookin' to us."
Cade came back and sat down. "Did I miss anything?"
Dolan said, "Just the bleedin' obvious."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothin', Cade. Just...nothin'."

Honour closed the door to the room she shared with Jack. The bed had been made and fresh water had been filled in the pitcher.
She hung up her shawl and unlaced her bodice. She loosened the drawstring on her skirt and stepped out of it.
Filling the basin, she splashed water on her face and then laid down on the bed. Her mind was in confusion.
So many things about her husband that she didn't know.

He knew how to play the violin. Expertly. He was a student at Oxford until he had to leave as the money for education had run out. What really happened between him and Mendoza to make them mortal enemies?
She flung her arm over her eyes.
Jack planned on buying the plantation. At least he was investing something from his plunder. As his wife, she would have a roof over her head, no matter what Jack was up to.
Was he expecting her to be a patient little wife and walk the widow's walk with a spyglass waiting for her wayward husband to wander home?

Jack was an enigma wrapped in a riddle. Whatever happened in his life shaped the way he is today. She wasn't ignorant of the fact that Jack was a very sensuous man. He proved that to her. Perhaps he just went to the bordello to tell a friend that he won't be coming back.

She sighed. Duckie knew Jack in their youth. If he said Jack has a vulnerable side, then it was up to Honour to find it.
To see if she could tap into it and salvage something of their life together.
Because if she didn't...there was no hope for them.
No hope at all.

She rose from the bed and looked out over the torches that were beginning to illuminate the lanes. Jack would be back any time now.
And Honour was determined to try once more.
To salvage their life together.

But Cade Jennings' tender look came unbidden to her mind.
She quickly dismissed the thought.
Her place was with Jack.
And Jack alone.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

The portly merchant picked up some coins from the table and looked at them suspiciously.
"Dutch guilders, Captain Wolfe? You'll forgive me, but I prefer to be paid in the currency of the Commonwealth."
"You're new to the Caribbean, aren't you, Mister Archer?" asked Jack. "Money is money. It all melts down the same. If you decide to be picky, you'll find yourself starving, not that it could hurt. A handsome payment for a few days passage to Martinique is what that is, mate! Do we have a bargain?"
Archer looked down at the coins, then back to Jack.
"We cast off early tomorrow afternoon, Captain. I'll have some men come round to the White Hart for your things. She's the Aphrodite Merchant, don't forget!"
"Who could forget the goddess of beauty?" Jack replied.
He glanced out the window as Archer pocketed his money and noticed the firefly glow of lanterns beginning to dot the lane. He'd promised Honour he would be gone only a few hours, and here the day was nearly gone. He breathed a silent curse for being neglectful once again, and wondered if she was feeling any better.
"Speaking of beauties, my wife will have my head for allowing business to keep me this late!"
"We'll walk out together then," Archer offered.
"No need, mate. In for a penny, in for a pound. I'll finish my drink before I go to face the music."
Archer smiled cordially. "Good evening to you, Captain Wolfe. I shall see you tomorrow."

Jack raised his glass as the merchant gave a slight bow before walking away. He settled back and thought about the day. The money that would secure his and Honour's future together was safely tucked away. The ship was scheduled for auction two weeks after the completion of her repairs. Now he stood to procure the notebook of Armand LaFourche, and try his hand at unravelling a mystery that men had been trying to decode for over 100 years. It had been an immensely satisfying day. For the first time in days, he felt like things were going his way once again.

A sailor took his drink from the bar and walked over to a table where his friends sat waiting. He had a smug look on his face, and his mates look expectantly for what he seemed to know.
"Well, spill it! You said you knew somethin' 'bout what Wolfe's been up to, talkin' to the auction house an' the like!" the first one asked.
The smug man sipped his drink and smiled.
"Captain Wolfe is goin' to Martinique. In a right hurry, from the sounds of it. Been talkin' to merchants most of the day, he has."
"What's 'e up to? Takin' a packet like some lubber don't make sense!" said another.
"Don't know what why he's goin', but I do know this," the smug one said with a conspiratorial air, "It's just the chance Cade Jennings would kill for right about now. And Jack Wolfe is handin' it to him."
One of the men was so deep in his cups that he seemed likely to fall over. But one of the names roused him from his drunken stupor.
"Cade Jennings!" he exclaimed. "That bloke what's been cattin' about wif ol' Wolfe's pretty-pretty?"
His friends tried to hush him, but it was too late. Jack had overheard, but he made no outward sign that he had. A tavern girl came by with a bottle for another table, but Jack grabbed it and tossed a few coins at her. The rumours had surfaced again, and this time he was going to find out just what was being said. He pulled out a sheaf of papers and slouched down in his chair, pretending he had heard nothing.

"Nah, nah, nah! Wai' a minute! Lemme talk!" the drunken wag continued. "What I was told, that Cade's been moonin' over that, wha's her name! Yeah! Honour! Been actin' like a lovesick puppy since Castara. I hear tell they got right cozy a bit there, I did."
"So did I! Spent every second Jack was away with her, he did! Poor stupid blighter, his own student stealin' his women out from underneath him like that!
"And I'll tell you another! With the stallion out of the barn, Jennings'll tend to that filly right an' proper if you get my meanin'! And it wouldn't be the first time, you can be sure of that!"

Jack sat listening to the men laugh and jeer at his expense, talking on and on about how everyone knew Cade was lying with his wife behind his back and had been since he had been foolish enough to introduce them. For the next half of an hour, Jack drank heavily while he brooded and listened as they laughed at him. Laughed at the blind, stupid cuckold. He'd seen how Cade looked at her. How the boy watched her every move. He'd ignored it, and why shouldn't he have? Honour was a beautiful young woman. Heads turned wherever she went.

He had taught Cade everything he knew. How to be ruthless and calculating, how to be cold and merciless in the pursuit of the prize. And now his own apprentice - his own heir! - had betrayed him. And so had his wife. Her head was turned the moment she met a younger man. Bonita was right. Honour was nothing more than a treacherous child. But what of Bonita's other accusations? Had that tavern wench truly used him for what he could lead her to, only to discard him at the first opportunity?

Anger and despair boiled in his veins. The next thing he heard pushed him to the breaking point.

"... but I never thought in all my days I'd see Jack Wolfe become a cuckold and a has been! He can't control his right hand nor his own woman!"

Jack exploded into rage. He jumped to his feet and whirled to face the men who were so gleefully slandering him and his bride, the bottle held like a club in his hand. The men fell silent at the sight of him.
"How long have you people known this?! Answer me, damn you all!!" he roared like a wounded lion. He smashed the bottle against the table and began to advance on the gossips. "Start talking, you sorry sons of whores, before I cut it out of you!!"
The men tried to back away as Jack came towards them, bumping and stumbling over furniture as they retreated from the bellowing fury. One of the men fell backwards against a table, and in moments Jack was on him. He grabbed the sailor by the throat and held the broken bottle just inches from the terrified man's face.
"How long have you known?!! Tell me while you can still speak!!" he spat.

The sailor's mouth moved, but no words came out. The hold on his throat was too tight. Out of control with rage, Jack drew back the jagged weapon to strike. But at the last moment, the bottle was knocked from his hand. The tavern keeper grabbed him in a choke hold and pulled him off the man. Jack kicked and fought like a demon, shouting obscenities and spitting death oaths as he was dragged out the door and thrown into the street like a common beggar.

He got back to his feet, his mind still churning with rage.
"You're a dead man, Jennings," he growled, and lurched off toward the White Hart Inn.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

The door of the inn flew open with the percussive force of a cannon shot. All conversation abruptly halted as the stunned patrons turned to find Jack Wolfe standing in the doorway. He strode purposefully to the center of the room, looking each person there dead in the eyes. Cade Jennings was not among them. No matter. Revenge would be exacted in time. He became increasingly aware that everyone was staring at him as he swayed drunkenly like a reed in the wind. Forcing a smile, he doffed his hat and gave a theatrical bow.
"Gentlemen, please! As you were!"

The tension was broken, and conversations resumed. With a stiffly measured gait, he strode up the stairs. He was not about to show them the jealous husband who had lost control back at the tavern. The practiced façade he wore into battle would serve him well once again. The people below hardly noticed the creak of a door as it opened, but the window rattling slam that followed could not be mistaken.
Dolan gave a low whistle. "Oh, this ain't lookin' good."

Honour sat bolt upright in the bed, the covers clutched up around her neck.
"Jack! What on earth is the matter? You scared me half to death coming in here like that!"
She looked out the window and saw that the sun had set.
"And where have you been? You said you'd only be gone a few hours."
Her hand was still trembling from the slamming of the door as she brushed her hair back from her face.

Jack couldn't bring himself to look at her, so he stared at the windows as he pulled off his frock coat. He tossed it on the bed and removed his baldric and sword. Honour noticed the dirt on the coat's sleeve, along with a tear near the elbow.
"Jack, your favourite coat is torn. Hadn't you noticed it?"
Her questions continued to be met with silence.
"Why won't you talk to me?" she asked in frustration.
He looked askance at her. "Why do you care if I came back at all?" he slurred. "I thought you'd be happier the longer I stay away."
"Jack, you're not making any sense. You're drunk, aren't you? Please, get undressed and come to bed..."
"I AM DRUNK!" he erupted. "Tell me, oh wife of mine, why I should share a bed with you tonight? I can practically smell him on you."
"Smell... what? What is wrong with you? Why are saying such terrible things?"
"Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out? The whole town's talking about Jack Wolfe, the cuckold pirate!" He turned to face her, his anger boiling to the top once again. "Parading around on his arm in front of the entire town, the two young lovers! More like the backstabbing cur and his little slut!"
"No, no, Jack! No, you were busy, and... and Cade offered to show me the sites until you returned... It's not what you think!!"

Even she could hear the note of guilt that slipped into her voice. Yes, she had thought Cade attractive and charming. Yes, she had stolen a kiss with him. And yes, she had imagined making love with him. She could feel her face turning red as hot tears welled in her eyes.

"Oh, I can imagine the things he showed you!" he went on, pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed. "How long have you two been together? Since Castara? How could you betray me like this, Honour? Why?"
The hurt in Jack's voice tore at her.
"I haven't! Jack, I love you! I would never betray you, never! You have to believe me! Please!" she begged, tears streaming down her face. "I've been far truer to you than you have to me!!"
Her last words stopped Jack in his tracks. "Now how can that be possible?" he mocked.
Honour fought to regain her composure. Her body trembled with distress, but a wave of anger began to build within her.
"I saw you. I was on the corner when you came out of that... house," she said, her voice becoming more and more forceful. "You didn't have the decency to accompany me to the inn before you ran off to lay with some whore! Another of your many 'friends'? Friends with benefits is more like it!" she spat sarcastically.
Honour had found her voice at last. All the frustration and mistrust, all the hurt and anger she'd so dutifully stifled over the past month came roaring forth like a spring flood.

He laughed derisively. "How dare you accuse me?"
"And how dare you, my husband?" she retorted. "My hands are clean! But you... all your promises and solemn oaths that conveniently change with the wind! I gave myself to you, body and soul! I saved your life when you were shot, and this is how you repay me? With accusations and infidelity?"
"You've humiliated me!! I've treated you with generosity and kindness up 'til now..!"
"You've treated me like rubbish!! Everything's roses when times are good, but when I need you, when I need my husband with me, you're never there! If I have done the awful things you say, who could blame me?"
Jack's eyes went wide with rage. He stepped menacingly toward her and drew back his hand to strike, but Honour found the courage to face him defiantly and not cower. She stared him straight in the eyes though her face was streaked with anguished tears.
"Damn you, Jack Wolfe!" she said with steely resolve, "Go ahead. Hit me. But if you do, I will walk out that door and NEVER come back!"
His hand flew up once more, but her only reaction was an almost indiscernible flinch, her eyes never leaving his. He stared at her, his face a mask of anger and heartache. Suddenly he turned and went to the writing desk. She followed him a few steps, relieved that he had not followed through with his threat. Maybe she could reason with him now, and make him understand she'd done nothing wrong...

She gasped in horror when Jack whirled and pointed his pistol at her. The combination of alcohol and adrenalin had him so unsteady that his aim wavered as if he were on the deck of a pitching ship.
"Jack, please, no! Put the gun away. This is all a terrible mistake!" she pleaded.
"The mistake was in marrying a deceitful little trollop like you! A mistake I intend to remedy here and now."
He pulled the hammer back slowly.
"Your precious Cade will be along to join you in Hell shortly."

Terror gripped Honour's very core. Instinctively, she lashed out with a sweeping kick that caught Jack's arm. The pistol flew from his hand and landed harmlessly on the floor. Enraged, he lunged at her, but she quickly sidestepped and watched as he lost his footing and stumbled head first into the wall. Her breath came in ragged, panicked gasps as she waited for him to get back to his feet. But he didn't move. Carefully, she knelt down beside him and put her small trembling hand near his face. A small wave of relief washed over her when she felt his breath across her fingers. He wasn't dead. But she knew it wasn't safe to stay there. The familiar urge to flee overwhelmed her. She hurriedly dressed and left the inn, and ran down the street as fast as she could to The Horse, Hunter, and Stag.

She knew she would find safety there.

Cade would protect her.

[Welsh Wench]

Honour pulled the hood of her cloak closer to her face as she approached the innkeeper of The Horse, Hunter and Stag. In a soft, halting voice she said, "I-I'd like to see Mr. Cade Jennings, if you please."
The innkeeper hesitated and said, "Don't rightly know if I should give you his room number, Missy..."
She tried to smile and said, "I'll be sure to knock first. Sir, I am not his wife or a jealous female trying to catch him with another woman."
The tavern keep saw the emerald ring on her finger and said quietly, "First door on the left at the top of the staircase."
She nodded, drew her cloak tighter around her and ascended the stairway.

Cade opened the door to her timid knock.
"Honour! What are you doing out this time of night?"
"May I come in, please?"
He looked at the tearstained face and said quickly, "By all means."

He took her cloak and saw that she was dressed in a chemise and skirt. No bodice, no corset, no stays.
She shivered. He sat her down and opened a bottle of brandy and poured a glass for her.
She drank a bit and started coughing.
"Careful, Honour."
"I'm sorry. I've been feeling a bit under the weather."
He sat down on the bed next to her and said quietly, "It has to be a problem for you to come here alone and at night too."

Honour nodded miserably. "It's all falling apart, Cade. I'm married almost a month and it's all falling to pieces."
He brushed her hair back and said soothingly, "Do you want to talk about it?"
She felt the tears well up.
"Jack accused me--us--of some vile things. He called me names. I confronted him on the fact that I saw him come out of a brothel the first day he--"
"Brothel? You saw him? When?"
"When we were walking the first day in port. He came out of that house with the two doors."
"Madame Renee's?"
"You know her?"
"Everyone knows Madame Renee."
"Cade, Jack went there for....for....."
She felt the tears coming again. He put his arm comfortingly around her. "You don't know that for a fact, Honour. He could have been visiting an old friend. He and Renee go way back."
She wiped the tears from her face. "I'm young but I am not a fool, Cade. I know what I saw."
"Honour, I can understand why you are upset but--"
"There's more. He accused me and you of...well...he accused me of infidelity."
"He WHAT?"
Honour nodded. "It gets worse, Cade. He..."

She leaned against him and began to cry.
"He pulled a gun on me and yelled, 'The mistake was in marrying a deceitful little trollop like you! A mistake I intend to remedy here and now.'
"Oh...Honour."
She could hardly talk.
"He pulled the hammer back on the pistol and then said in a deadly calm voice, " 'Your precious Cade will be along to join you in Hell shortly.' "
"Was he drunk?"
"Yes," she said as she felt the tears welling up in her eyes again.
"Cade, I kicked the gun out of his hand. He lunged for me but I moved and he ran headlong into the wall and was knocked out. I--I checked and he was still breathing when I left. Oh, Cade, I can't go back! He will kill me! And you!"
He held her and rocked her a bit as she cried, "No, he won't kill us. He's crazy with rum, Honour. Or whiskey. Or both."
"I can't go back. I--I can get a room here for the night or sleep in the common room here."
"Honour, all the rooms here are booked. The Ebony Heart just docked and all the crew have shore leave. A pretty little thing like you in the common room with a port full of drunken pirates who haven't seen a woman in three months? Not even an option."
"But I can't go back."
"Stay here. I can sleep in the chair."
"I can't ask that of you, Cade."
"I insist. No arguments."
She stood up and looked him in the eyes. "I can't thank you enough, Cade. For all you have done."

Cade put his hands on his shoulders and said, "Anything for you, Honour."
She looked up into his eyes. Their bodies were touching and Cade softly brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "Anything..."

Before she knew it, their eyes closed and their lips met in a kiss that was anything but casual. They broke apart, each not knowing what the other would do.

Honour whispered, "I've been accused, judged and condemned. I may as well be guilty of the crime as well."
Cade tilted her face up to meet his and whispered back, "Then we shall pay the price together."


~~~~~~~

With a start, Honour woke up. The moonlight streamed onto the bed, illuminating Cade's face as he slept next to her. His arm was flung around her as he spooned against her. She quietly slid from his arms, placing a pillow in her place.
She wrapped her cloak around her body, her chemise and skirt laying on the floor giving clues as to what had taken place. As if the man in the bed wasn't testimony enough to damn them both.

Honour stood there, a feeling of despair washing over her. Messing up once in her life was enough. The main attraction was the same, only the key players had changed.
Would Cade have the same fate as Rhys?
And what of Jack? While he was not Madoc, his fury was unmatched. Twice in one lifetime was too much for a woman to be threatened with death, this time for a crime she hadn't committed.
Until after the accusations.

She walked over to the window and looked out. A few pirates straggled out of the taverns, spilling onto the lane. So far the only one who knew she was here was the innkeeper. And he didn't even know her name.
She leaned her forehead against the mullion of the window and began to cry quietly.
Bitterly.
To herself, she whispered, 'Rhiannon...how many times are you going to mess up? How many places can you run to?'

Honour wondering how she was going to face Cade in the morning.
But much more importantly was this--how was she going to face Jack?
If he was ready to kill her and Cade over an imagined infidelity, how would he react if he ever knew that his suppositions became actualities?

'Rhiannon', she thought, 'you sure do know how arrange things. Those who don't learn from the past are doomed to repeat it. When will you?....When will you learn?....when will you learn?....
Will I ever learn?'
She closed her eyes, knowing she would use all her wits to pull herself out of the funeral pyre.
Because Jack was holding the match.

[Welsh Wench]

In a tavern in Castara Bay, the solitary figure drew her shawl around her. The moon shone through the palmettos as she closed the door behind her. She walked towards the beach, the soft sand cushioning her footfall.

In a clearing overlooking the bay, she laid her shawl down on the ground and sat upon it. In her leather bag she withdrew what she needed. An urn filled with sea salt, a few bones and a leather box.
She very carefully laid what she needed on the flat boulder she used so many times before. Clouds raced across the moon, lending an eerie feel as if shadowy fingers embraced the orb.

She stood and sprinkled a circle of the salt around herself and the boulder. Facing east, she took the bones out of the bag and cast them on the boulder. Three bones scattered. Three touching, one touching and then rolling away from the breast bone. She inhaled sharply, a small smile coming to her face.
Three times.
Three results the same.

Withdrawing her cards, she drew three out.
The Lovers.
The Tower.
The Devil.

'It already happen,' she whispered. 'Dey run to de Fate dat be cast for dem. No turning back. De great Jack Wolfe find out how it feel to hurt. Him pretty little bride and he dat he treat like a son. Him have destruction around him head.'

She reached once more into her bag and withdrew two small dolls. A male and a female. The one had a ribbon, the other had a lanyard. The poppets were back to back, bound with a black ribbon. Touching but not facing.

She held it up to the moonlight and whispered a few words. 'Wit' dese cords, I bind toget'er dey spirits, and hold apart dey hearts. Dey lives, dey be forever entwine, forever connected, but never share as man and woman.'
The very words she chanted when she first bound them together.

A chuckle escaped her lips which grew into a laugh.
'Sail away, Jack Wolfe! Sail away! Two already betray you. Two, so dear to your dark heart. Dey already cut you to de quick, and cause you such joy and pain. Your heart will break three times."

She put her charms back into her bag, still chuckling.
She stood and faced the horizon, the dark waves lapping the shore in the moonlight.
Softly she said, 'Bones no lie, Jack Wolfe. Bones no lie. Neither do Bonita.'

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Jack's eyes fluttered open, but screwed shut almost immediately from the pounding throb in his head. He made a tacit vow to himself not to overindulge like he obviously had again, just as he'd vowed a thousand other mornings before. Smiling in the solace of at least knowing for certain who it was he'd find lying beside him, he stretch drowsily and reached toward the other side of the bed... and found it cold and empty.

"Honour?" he called quietly. When no answer came, he sat up and looked around their room. She was nowhere to be seen, and her cloak was missing. He was still in the shirt and breeches he'd worn the previous day. As he struggled to remember the events of last night, he noticed the pistol lying on the floor, its hammer still cocked.

"Oh, God, no. No, no, no, what did I do?!" he wondered desperately.
Bits of memories came drifting back: the tavern, the awful rumours, the argument with Honour and the terrible things he'd said to her, the hurtful accusations. Remorse hit him in a sickening wave. Why did he not trust that she was telling the truth? Why didn't he explain his friendship with Renee?
"Damn you and your pride, Jack," he said aloud. She had endured hardship and peril, never once wavering from his side. How did he repay her love and fidelity? By judging her guilty on hollow charges and no evidence, because HE felt humiliated by the idle chatter. Instead of standing beside her, he had thrown her to the wolves over wounded pride.

He went to the window and looked down on the street below. The sun had just risen, and people were beginning to go about their morning routines. He caught a glimpse of a woman's cloak near the inn's entrance. It was the same colour and style as Honour's. The woman seemed to hesitate at the door before entering. If it was Honour as he hoped, he could not blame her for being apprehensive about returning. Curiosity about where she may have been was drowned out by his relief that she was safe, and had found it within herself to come back. Jack hurriedly straightened the room, being sure to safe the pistol and hide it out of sight. He splashed some water on his face and tried to do something with his unruly mane, to no avail. Finally, he rummaged around in a small wooden chest, retrieved a green velvet pouch, and stuffed it into his pocket. His heart pounded with hope and dread as the door handle rattled, then slowly turned.

Honour stepped gingerly into the room, her heart beating so hard she could feel it in her ears. The guilt she had felt upon awakening in Cade's arms was nothing compared to what wracked her being now. She could not bear to even look at her husband, so she kept her face hidden by her hood as she turned and closed the door. At that moment, she longed to once again be that carefree girl sitting at the cliffs near her childhood home watching the ships come and go, far away from this place in a far simpler time. But she would not run this time. No, she would face her husband and accept whatever came next.

Strangely, the angry tirade she'd expected was not there. An eerie silence, almost claustrophobic to her, hung in the air. Why didn't he say anything? Where were the now well founded accusations she was certain he'd hurl? Unpredictable to the last, she thought. No small wonder his foes found him so maddening. Honour sighed heavily, resigned to the fact that Jack was going to force her into facing him, the adulteress before the humiliated cuckold. She pulled her hood back and began to remove her cloak. To her amazement, she felt it lifted from her shoulders with incredible delicacy. Fighting against her own shame, she turned, head bowed, to discover what judgement awaited her. Astonishingly, what she found was nothing like what she expected. And her heart broke.

Jack Wolfe, the most feared pirate in the entire Caribbean, stood before her as the epitome of contrition.
"Honour," he said softly and slowly, his gaze directed at the floor in front of her, " I am so terribly sorry for the way I mistreated you last night. I have been a poor husband to you. I see that now. When you needed me, I was not there. When I should have offered explanations, I didn't. When I should have trusted you, I didn't. Though I do not expect you to, can you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Her mind reeled. He was begging forgiveness, when it was she who had broken their marriage vows? She knew in her heart that there was no way he could know yet of her sin- committed with the man who Jack loved like a son!- but that only seemed to make her feel worse.
"No, Jack," she said, her voice nearly cracking with shame. "I'm the one who should be asking forgiveness. Not you."

"Nonsense!" he interrupted. He stepped towards her and drew her into his arms. It felt to Honour as if he was holding on to her for dear life.
"No, my love. This has all been a terrible misunderstanding, and it is my fault. All I ask is a chance to make things right."
He pulled the velvet pouch from his pocket and opened it. She gasped when she saw the intricate diamond and emerald necklace as he drew it out into the light.
"I was holding this for a happier occasion, but I want you to have this now as a token of apology."

"It's beautiful," she whispered.
So overwhelmed was she by what was happening, it all began to take on a dreamlike quality. Jack held up the necklace, and she turned around to let him put it on her. She swept her long blond hair away from her neck. The glimmering stones were cool upon her skin. He gently kissed the back of her neck as he put his arms around her. Honour leaned back into his embrace and turned her head to look at him. Their lips met, and at that moment the flood gates that had been restraining their emotions burst open at once. Their kisses became hungry, almost desperate. She moved her body against his as he caressed her. His fingers loosened the ties of her chemise and deftly pulled it free from her shoulders. The garment slipped down over her body onto the floor as she turned and began undressing him. They held and touched each other, losing themselves in their sensual tempest. Finally, Jack swept Honour up in his arms and laid her gently upon the bed. She insistently drew him down on to the bed and over her, guiding him to her. As they made love, she kept her eyes closed tightly so he would not see the pain in them, and a single tear ran down her cheek.

Honour lay in Jack's arms, her back to him, their bodies and emotions spent. She wondered what would happen next. How long before Jack found out she betrayed him with Cade? And what revenge would he exact once he knew the truth? Would he kill them both as he had threatened last night? She was thankful Jack couldn't see the haunted look in her eyes. There was no way to run from her terrible mistake, no way to hide it, no way to undo the wrong. She was trapped. The chill of hopelessness began to creep into her heart, so she snuggled back against her husband. He gently stroked her hair the way he always had after they made love, but this time it brought her no joy.

Jack sighed heavily. "Honour," he said quietly, "I have something to tell you, darling. I wish now that I didn't, and I hope you won't be too angry with me."

How could he possibly make her angry after what she'd done to him, Honour wondered.
"Please, just tell me, Jack. All our breakables are in storage, so you have nothing to worry about," she feebly tried to joke.
"All right. You remember the notebook I told you I was trying to find? The one that belongs to a French naturalist?"
"I think so. Why?"
"I know where he is. Martinique. It's practically in my grasp, love!" he enthused.
"How so?" she asked. "Is someone bringing it to you?"
"This is the part I fear will upset you," he said cautiously. "I'm going to Martinique to buy it. Today."

Honour turned over quickly to face him. "You're leaving? Today?!"
Her voice was full of hurt. Damn him! He hasn't changed one bit, and never will. Leaving her behind while to go chasing after treasure?
"But we were supposed to look at the plantation tomorrow! What if someone buys it before you decide to come back? Have you considered that?"
"In fact, I have. I've set more than enough money aside to buy the plantation, at your disposal. Briggs will make sure you have it in hand first thing before you go to the property."
"What, I'm supposed to negotiate the contract?" she asked incredulously.
Jack smiled at her. "Of course! What better way to prove how much I trust you than to let you buy your dream home? You'll do a fine job, I know it."

The news hit her like a kick in the stomach. Was this to be her destiny, to live the solitary existence of a seaman's wife and pace the widow's walk every day, hoping to see his sails on the horizon?
"Jack, no!" she pleaded. "This is too important, and I need you there with me!"
"I promise, Honour, I'll only be gone a few days. You'll be fine! When I return, we'll start moving in to our new home."
He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Now I really should get my things in order. I sail in just a few hours, and they'll be by shortly for my baggage." He smiled happily at her, then rose from the bed to get dressed.

Honour pulled the covers up around her, her heart bursting with despair. In the space of less than a day, the marriage that had brought her so much joy had come crashing down around her. She rolled over again, her back to him.

"Do what you feel you have to, Jack. You always do."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

St. Pierre, Île Martinique

There it was. 43 Rue Bacas. The home of the mad naturalist and linguist Armand LaFourche. For years he had been renowned for his abilities to understand dead languages and their equally dead practitioners. But if the stories were true, his attempts at understanding a forgotten people known only as the Ancients had gotten the better of him. Instead of unravelling their secrets, their secrets had unravelled his mind.
Jack stepped up to the door and knocked. It was answered by a young woman, Honour's age or close to it. She was a frail thing, tall and pale, with eyes that belonged to someone much older.

"Mademoiselle LaFourche?" he inquired politely.
"Oui."
"My name is Cap... is Jack Wolfe. Please forgive me for dropping by unannounced. I am a great admirer of your father's work. Might it be possible for me to meet him?"
She sighed heavily. "Monsieur Wolfe, my father is a very sick man." Her heavy accent lent her voice a far more authoritative ring than one might have expected. "I am afraid it is out of the question. Au revoir, monsieur." She began to close the door.
"Please hear me out!" Jack insisted, and the woman paused. "This is more than just a social call, mademoiselle. I have a business proposition that I believe you would be interested in."
She mulled his words over for a moment, then opened the door wide. "Please, Monsieur Wolfe. Éntrer."

The interior of the house was cramped. Not from an ill-conceived floor plan, but rather every available bit of wall space had been converted into bookshelves. The air was heavy with the stale smell of leather, cloth, and vellum. The young woman led Jack through the winding maze of texts. He decided it was as good a time as any to try and break the ice.
"Forgive me, but I don't believe I caught your name."
"Cecile," she replied pleasantly. "But you may call me Ceily. Everyone does. You are here to buy my father's journal about Les Anciens, oui?"
"Oui! I mean, yes, that I am. How did you know?"
"You are not the first, monsieur."
"You'll find I am prepared to pay handsomely..."
Ceily cut him off with a wave of her hand.
"I would happily give you the journal, Monsieur Wolfe. But I think you should see what the knowledge contained within it has done to my poor father before you accept. The price is far steeper than you think," she said ominously.

She brought Jack to a small sunny room. Armand LaFourche was there, sitting in a simple straight backed chair. He was looking out at a small garden Ceily no doubt maintained for him in an attempt to soothe his tortured mind. Jack watched as the disturbed man rocked gently back and forth, quietly chanting something inaudible. Ceily motioned Jack into the room and pointed to a chair for him to sit in next to her father. As he sat, he found the man wasn't chanting, but was instead singing a children's song.

Sur le pont d'Avignon
L'on y danse, l'on y danse
Sur le pont d'Avignon
L'on y danse tous en rond
Les bell' dames font comm' çà
Et puis encore comm' çà...

Ceily kneeled down beside Armand and gently touched his shoulder. He stopped his song to smile at her.
"Papa?" she said softly. "Papa, Monsieur Wolfe voudrais vous parler."
She nodded toward Jack. Armand looked at his visitor, his strange smile never fading.
"Je ne sais pas vous," he said warily.
"Monsieur LaFourche, my name is Jack Wolfe. I've come to ask you some questions about the Ancients."
The man's eyes went wide. "Les Anciens! Oui! Oui, but of course! I can tell you everything about them!"
His voice was suddenly infused with life, the confused fog lifted from his eyes. Such a radical change in his demeanour helped to ease Jack's mind. Perhaps the quest for knowledge about these people had nothing to do with LaFourche's madness after all.

"Did you ever find out where the Ancients lived, for certain?" Jack asked carefully.
"Non. No, I never did. But I learned things far more important." Armand's expression turned gravely serious. "Things I will tell you, only if you swear to me you will never tell another soul."
"Believe me, I'll keep anything you tell me a secret. Just between us." Jack was gambling that even though he seemed lucid enough, Armand might still be soft enough in the head to give up something useful.
"The Moon and Sun in endless chase, must come together in one place." the man said. Jack blinked and looked to Ceily, who could only offer a shrug.
"That's very interesting, monsieur. Could you be more specific? Do you mean an eclipse?"
The crazed look was creeping back into Armand's eyes.
"In the Chamber of Tomorrows, the Keeper of Kings will awaken. Do you see it?"
He smiled as if Jack should have understood his riddles clearly.
"I'm afraid I'm not following," said Jack. "Perhaps if we back up a bit..."
"Three Kings will hide before your eyes, their scattered way brought together. Yes, yes, they will hide... until she finds them..."

The enigmatic smile was back, and Armand LaFourche was lost once more. Jack leaned back in his chair, utterly perplexed. Ceily nodded toward the doorway, and the two retreated from the room to the hall.

"So, monsieur. You see what his quest has done to his mind. Do you still want the journal?" she asked, certain Jack would decline like everyone before him.
"You know, I think he actually gave me something to go on. Yes, please. I'll take it off your hands," he replied without hesitation.
Ceily shook her head sadly, and retrieved a worn book from its place on the shelf. She touched the stained cover, which read 'Un Journal de Conclusions sur la Race perdu connu seulement comme Les Anciens, comme compilées par Armand LaFourche', then quickly handed it over to Jack.
"Here. Take the accursed thing. And may God take pity on you, Capitaine Jacques Wolfe."

Jack smiled gratefully. "Why should He start now?" He paused, then handed a purse full of coins to her. "For his upkeep, and your kindness. Adieu, mademoiselle."