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Elizabeth Webber stormed across the main deck of the HMS Queen Victoria. Handfuls of her burgundy velvet skirt were clenched in her fingers as she lifted it high enough to keep it from tangling in her swiftly moving legs. In doing so, she was unabashedly displaying a scandalous amount of white-stocking clad calves above burgundy high-heeled shoes.

Anger rolled off of her like a black fog and the few other passengers she passed not-so-subtly veered away in their after dinner strolls to avoid coming too close, as if they were afraid of being tainted by her wake. Elizabeth didn't notice their disapproving stares or their curious looks. She was oblivious to everything - everything except her grandmother's accusing words which still rang loudly in her ears

"Elizabeth you are being completely unreasonable! Why do you intentionally ruin every encounter you have with a nice gentleman! Are you determined to wind up alone and unmarried!"

The words alone stung, but the look on her Gram's sweet face - anger mixed with reproach and disappointment - had twisted her heart into a hard angry knot.

Reaching the furthest point aft she could on the luxury passenger ship, Elizabeth began pacing back and forth like a caged tigress, restless and agitated.

How could she! A single tear spilled down her cheek and her fingers stole to her throat to curl around the smooth metal medallion hanging from her necklace.

Sighing and closing her eyes, she concentrated on the medallion in her fingers and let her anger fade into frustration. She swiped at the tear trailing down her cheek with her left hand, but her right kept rolling the cool metal disc between her fingers, holding it as securely as an overboard sailor clung to the safety of a life-preserver.

In all honesty, she wasn't even really angry at Gram. She was frustrated with herself and more than a little cross that Gram had the gall to point out the truth to her. Maybe Gram was right, she admitted, letting her shoulders slump, maybe she did set out to ruin every encounter she had with the fine gentlemen she met. No, Elizabeth argued with herself, that wasn't completely true. She didn't purposefully she set out to ruin possible relationships, she rolled her eyes, not exactly anyway. The truth was something more along the lines of she was 'putting her possible suitors to the test' - and so far they had all failed miserably.

Elizabeth cocked her head to the side and stared out at the distant horizon. She took a long deep breath enjoying the damp and brine of the ocean flavored air, and then exhaled slowly and deliberately, letting the last of the tension bleed from her body.

Cringing she remembered the earlier meal which had set this whole nightmare into motion. Grams had accepted a dinner invitation for the two of them from a Prince Nikolas Cassadine. A shiver ran down Elizabeth's spine as she thought of the shallow, insipid man. Oh, he was easy on the eyes, and she freely admitted that some women might think him remarkably handsome, in a dark and spooky kind of way, but it was his personality she couldn't abide. He was puffed full of air with no bones or muscles underneath. He was too aloof, too entitled, and too self-indulgently charming for her taste. She had kept hoping a trickle of human compassion might well up from within him, but she had quickly realized he was only interested in cultivating her approval of him as if it were a token he collected from everyone he met.

The final straw had come when the Prince had asked a casual question about what toppings she preferred on her scones at Tea. A harmless musing in itself, but when his eyes fell for the countless time to her cleavage and a small leering smile broke across his face, her humiliation burned too brightly for her to take his abuse in silence another moment. So she'd leaned in toward the Prince, smiled ever so sweetly, and said in a honeyed voice loud enough for everyone at the nearby tables to hear, "I'm sorry Prince Nikolas, I would be more than happy to converse with you if you would only please address me to my face and not my breasts."

She would have thought she'd loosed a rat at a meeting of the Women's Purity League with the reaction she'd gotten. Loud gasps emanated from several nearby tables, punctuated with the loud clattering of silverware suddenly dropped onto plates. The Prince's Grandmother Helena's face pinched in distinct displeasure, but his Uncle Stefan looked at her with a brow lifted with reserved interest, and she had gotten the distinct impression he wished he were twenty years younger. Her Gram had somehow managed to inhale her white wine and had gone into a coughing fit which turned her face an exquisite shade of purple. Prince Nikolas Cassadine himself choked so loudly on his Veal Almondine that several waiters ran over to pound him on the back to get him breathing again.

Elizabeth, however, was the eye of the storm, and she sat with a proud grin on her face looking every bit the Cheshire cat. The only thing that ruined her mood was noticing her Gram glaring at her between coughs. Her smile had faded from her lips faster than quicksilver through a sieve and she was immediately at her Gram's side, rubbing her back soothingly and making excuses for them to leave. "I do believe my Gram is having an attack of the vapors. I should take her back to our cabin. Thank you so very much for your gracious dinner invitation."

Grams couldn't get them out of there quickly enough.

Elizabeth braced her hands against the railing and studied the thin sliver of the waning moon. Gram meant well. She always did, but she would never understand. Gram wanted for her what her brother and sister, Stephen and Sarah had, a well positioned and moneyed spouse, but that wasn't what Elizabeth wanted, not exactly.

She knew the rules of the society she lived in, her family had drilled them into her long enough for her to know what was expected. Attend all the social engagements and curtsy at the appropriate times, never speak too loudly or rudely, always make sure to use the correct fork to eat your salad… Elizabeth rolled her eyes and inwardly groaned, goodness knows the empire would fall if she confused her salad and desert forks…. and play whist just poorly enough to let the elderly matriarchs win every time.

Elizabeth cringed, it was like some twisted Elizabethan play. Put on her smiling face and play the role of the happy ingénue maiden until she crossed paths with a man playing the role of the happy young gentleman aristocrat. He, of course, had to be the kind of man that came from the right family, could carry on reasonably witty conversation, and jump through all the social hoops without breaking a sweat….. Not that it mattered a whit how she felt about him….whether she liked him or hated him or was basically indifferent toward him, her feelings didn't figure into the equation whatsoever, only her family's approval. Love was never mentioned. Old money and good family placement were all that mattered. It was what was expected of her by everyone - her Gram, her mom and dad, and society in general.

She wanted to tell them to take their expectations and go to Hades.

She wouldn't settle for anything less than love. Real love. She'd had it once, her fingers tightening around the cold metal disc in her hand. She'd loved a boy and he'd loved her, and together they'd planned a future together. Today they should have been married with a household full of babies around their feet, if not for a night nearly six years ago and an accursed fire.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she wiped at them angrily. They wouldn't change anything; they wouldn't bring Lucky back to her. Lifting the medallion, she stared at it for a long moment before pressing it to her lips. The metal of the old Roman coin was cold against her skin and it settled a chill in her heart. It had been the last gift Lucky had given her. A nearly worthless coin they'd found during a picnic. She'd thought it fabulously interesting and he'd had it set into medallion to wear around her neck. She frowned. He'd died less than a week later.

Blinking away the tears which threatened to fall. Elizabeth stood and took a deep breath. Letting her eyes glaze over, she lost herself in her memories. Remembering the way Lucky smiled when he saw her, his laugh, the way he swept her into his arms and kissed her when they were alone. He was sweet and romantic, and even though everyone around them fully expected them to marry, he had never pressured her to compromise her virtue. It was a decision they'd both made, to wait until their wedding night. Now, she wistfully regretted never having shared that ultimate intimacy with him. It was one of many treasures, past, present and future, she'd lost that night.

A damp chill sent a shiver down her spine and Elizabeth reached to snug her wrap more securely around her shoulders, only to remember that in her haste to leave Gram she'd forgotten to bring it. Wrapping her arms around her bosom she hugged herself tightly to warm her exposed skin and glanced back to the night sky. The sliver of moon, now hanging much higher in the sky, was shrouded behind a blanket of white.

Fog was rolling in. Thick and white, it's damp air pressed against her sending another chill tingling down her spine. The fog itself wasn't surprising, as the ship sailed ever nearer to England and it's cooler temperatures, fog had become their nightly companion. This night though, the fog was thicker by far than it had ever been. Thickening almost before her eyes until she couldn't see more than a handful of feet in front of her and every noise which met her ears was blunted by the heavy clinging mist.

Suddenly Elizabeth felt claustrophobic and swallowed nervously as an ominous bump and scrape filtered through the dense mist. Deciding to return to her cabin, she gingerly picked her way though the grove of deck chairs and then slowly made her way down the promenade, keeping one hand securely on the outer bulkhead as she went.

The further she went through the fog, the more nervous she became. More indistinct knocks and scrapes sounded through the grayness and her breathing hitched with each noise. She didn't remember the walk to the hallway leading to the lower state cabins being this far down the gangway. Stopping to close her eyes and take a steadying breath, Elizabeth chided herself for letting her imagination get the better of her. After all, it was only fog, and she was on a ship in the middle of the ocean. What could happen to her here?

Ahead of her a figure of a man morphed out of the mist and sighing in relief, Elizabeth strode forward. Whether the man was a crewman or another passenger, he would no doubt be more than willing to help her find her way back to her cabin.

"Excuse me, Sir." She stopped behind him, only to have her next words catch in her throat as he turned.

The man was as dirty as his tattered and grimy clothing, with dark stringy hair hanging in front of piercing black eyes. When those eyes fell on her, they narrowed lecherously. A menacing smile spread over his face and panic kicked her heart into high gear, setting it banging against her ribs. Turning with a wild scramble of arms and legs, Elizabeth started to run from the menace that had appeared like a phantom out of the fog. Only she wasn't quick enough and before she could get away, the man's arm snaked out, his meaty hand fisting itself tightly around her arm, then he yanked her back to bring her face to face with him. She inhaled to let loose a scream, but he quickly shoved her back against the bulkhead and clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Lookie at the prize that's flown right into me arms." The man leered as he pressed his unshaven face close enough for Elizabeth to feel the brush of his straggly beard against her cheek and smell his sour breath. A shiver of revulsion passed through her and she strained in vain to turn her head away.

"What a dainty little morsel." The man stepped back to let his eyes feast themselves on her and she felt herself quake under his gaze, terrified at the very real possibility of being ravaged by this loathsome malefactor. "I wonder if ye taste as good as ye look."

As the man's eyes rose from her curved hips, his gaze paused at her chest. His face fell a moment, his smile slipping as something of interest caught his eye. His hand left its grasp on her arm and she closed her eyes, bracing herself against his imminent touch. However, instead of the lewd grope she expected, she felt his fingers grasp the pendant on her chain.

Her eyes sprang open. The idea that this lecherous pig was touching Lucky's last gift to her, her most precious possession, ignited her rage and she swung one arm wildly at the man. He easily deflected her blow and with a quick jerk, snapped the delicate chain from her neck. "Must be a worth a mint if ye be wanting to protect it so." He reasoned as he pocketed the bauble, then his leering eyes returned to her face. "But I have me mind on more precious treasures."

Elizabeth closed her eyes and screamed, the sound getting lost in the muffle of his hand. Then without warning, the man's hand was gone. Elizabeth's eyes flew wide in surprise and she saw the reason for her reprieve.

Another man - tall, light haired, and dressed completely in black - had the first by a handful of shirt. His other hand was balled into a fist, his arm cocked back and with one powerful blow across the first man's jaw, he dropped him to deck in an unconscious heap.

Elizabeth's mind reeled trying to keep up with her changing circumstances and she lifted a trembling hand to cover her mouth in relief. Turning her gaze to her savior, she started to step forward to thank him, when he half-turned and whistled quietly into the mist.

An instant later a third man stepped out of the fog and her rescuer spoke to him in a hushed voice. "Take Roscoe back to the ship and lock him in the brig. I'll deal with him later."

The third man replied in a similar low tone. "Aye, Captain."

Elizabeth's eyes widened and her mouth gaped as understanding dawned on her. This man wasn't the rescuer she had supposed him to be. He was a comrade of the first man who'd meant to rape her. He was, in fact, his captain.

Panic bloomed again in Elizabeth's mind and as her rescuer turned to her, her eyes widened. He was taller than she'd first thought, with broad shoulders which tapered down to narrow hips. Shoulder length wheat colored hair spilled around a face sporting an angled jaw, well defined cheek bones, and an aquiline nose. However it was the man's eyes that captured her attention, pale and nearly clear blue, they shot a look of ice cold warning through her that sent a chill straight to her bones. She once again turned to run, inhaling deeply as she did to scream, when for the second time in less than a quarter hour, a hand grasped her arm and yanked her back. A second hand clamped tightly over her mouth silencing her scream, yet this time instead of being forced back against the bulkhead, she was spun around, her back pressed hard against the man's granite chest as his arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

Bodily lifted off the deck, Elizabeth's wits returned in a rush and in a bid for freedom, she started flailing her legs, kicking as hard as she could from her unwieldy position against the man's shins. Her barrage of blows didn't seem to slow him down in the least as he carried her along the gangway, stopping only to kick open a door leading into a small sitting room.

Kicking the door closed behind him, the man unceremoniously dropped Elizabeth to the floor. Landing unexpectedly, Elizabeth caught herself, then spun on her heel. Her arm swung wide, bringing her hand flat and hard against the man's cheek, hitting him with enough force to whip his head to the side and send a crack ringing through the room.

Rage had overridden fear and she stood glaring at him with hands fisted at her sides. If this brute meant to ravish her, she was going to make sure he paid dearly for his pleasure.

Watching as the man turned his head to gaze at her, she tensed, ready to dodge or strike if he moved toward her again. However when his eyes found hers, all she saw in those ice blue orbs was amusement.

"Is this how you treat all your rescuers, My Lady?" He asked with a touch of sarcasm in a rich, smooth tenor. Then he lifted a hand to test the tenderness of his cheek and Elizabeth used his distraction to ease a step away.

"Rescuer?" She scoffed as she backed away another step. "How is it you are my rescuer when I find myself trapped alone with you very much against my will?"

As his right hand rubbed his jaw, the light winked off the ring he wore on his index finger. Her eyes caught the glint and stole to catch site of its source. One look was all she need to recognize the wide gold band set with a large square black onyx stone which had a block style calligraphy "M" carved into its face. It was very clearly a signet ring. Its flat onyx surface would be pressed into the wax sealing an envelope and the relief "M" left behind would be proof to all that the letter inside had indeed come from this man.

However, the reason she'd recognized the ring wasn't from any wax-sealed mail she'd received, but from the harrowing accounts she'd read in the London Times concerning a new pirate prowling the seas. Bold and fearless, he struck much larger ships without warning, and several times, had left behind beaten crewmen with a distinct "M" pressed into their bodies and faces.

Elizabeth's eyes widened. Realizing she'd just slapped the most feared pirate on the high seas, she backed further away. Her hand instinctively reached to her neck to clasp her medallion, only remembering after her fingers grazed bare skin that it was no longer there. The pirate, on the other hand, stayed rooted to his spot, watching her with that same amused smile on his face.

He lifted an eyebrow, "Was I mistaken in rescuing you?" His taunt needled her anger and she lifted her chin haughtily, giving him a burning glare. His smile widened fractionally at her reaction. "As far as being trapped. You're here for your own safety."

"Ha!" Elizabeth's eyes flew around the room, looking desperately for some weapon she could use if she needed to protect herself. "Pardon me if I doubt your word and your intentions."

The man crossed his arms over his broad chest and stared at her with a touch of humor still lighting his eyes. It galled her that he found so much humor in her situation.

"Is that scoundrel a member of your crew or not?" Elizabeth asked.

"Aye."

"Then surely as his captain you bear as much responsibility for his actions as he."

The pirate frowned under her accusation, then straightened, clasping both hands behind his back. "Such behavior has never been nor ever will be tolerated under my command." His ice blue eyes darkened. "He will be punished for what he did."

Elizabeth pulled her lower lip between her teeth as she eyed him suspiciously from across the small room, her hand still hovering at her neck. Her empty fingers reminding her of what she had lost. That necklace was her last and most precious memento of the love she and Lucky had shared, she couldn't let it go, not without making every possible effort to retrieve it.

"Your crewman stole my necklace." She straightened to her full height and took a step forward. "I would appreciate its return."

The man's frown deepened and his pale blue eyes iced over, sending a chill down her spine. She hurriedly tried to reassure him she didn't mean to lighten his load of ill-gotten gain from his excursion. "It is but a worthless Roman coin on a simple chain. I would gladly pay a reward beyond its value for its return."

She watched the man's jaw tighten as he turned from her and pinched the bridge of his nose. She couldn't tell if he was angry, insulted or simply exasperated with her and her request. However, before he could give an answer a muted knock sounded at the door. His expression grew serious as he backed to the door, reaching behind him to pull a pistol from the back of his belt.

Elizabeth's eyes flew wide at the site of the weapon and she had to clap her hands over her mouth to suppress a gasp. The pirate glared at her and motioned for her to move out of sight. Scurrying behind a high backed chair, she crouched out of sight, peeking ever so slightly around its side so she could see what was happening.

The pirate grasped the door handle and in one smooth motion, yanked the door open, stepped into the opening and brought his pistol to bear on whomever had knocked.

Elizabeth tensed, waiting for the loud rapport of gunfire to fill the room, but as she watched, the man visibly relaxed and lowered his weapon. The chair blocked her view of whomever was on the other side of the door, but a hurried, whispered conversation took place between the two.

After a moment the pirate's cold blue gaze turned toward her and he tipped his head in an almost gentlemanly fashion. "It seems my business here is done. Goodbye, My Lady."

And with that, he was gone.

The click of the closing of the door resonated loudly in Elizabeth's ears, and her mouth fell open in astonishment. He'd left without one word to her about the return of her necklace. Indignation and anger overrode her fear and she sprang from behind the chair and bolted across the room, yanking open the door open and dashing out onto the fog shrouded gangway. She couldn't bear to lose her last tangible connection to Lucky and there was only one man who could retrieve her precious treasure for her. Looking quickly in both directions, she found that one man swiftly moving away to her right, his form quickly enveloped by the fog.

Without stopping to think of the wisdom of chasing down a pirate, Elizabeth turned and started after him. However, he was moving quickly and she lost him in the mist. Panic urged her into a run, making her skirts billow wildly around her ankles. After a several heartbeats, she began to despair of finding him, then nearly collided with him as she came upon him in a rush.

Turning sharply to avoid running headlong into him, Elizabeth's feet twisted in her skirts sending her tumbling sideways. The man lunged, snagging her around the waist with one arm and drawing her to him to keep her from falling.

Breathing hard from her run, Elizabeth found herself chest to chest with the pirate captain, his arm wrapped around her waist and his face a scant inches from hers. Heat spread rapidly through her veins and she told herself it was because of the exertion and not from of the press of his hard body against hers or the curious look that softened his probing gaze.

Bracing her forearms against that broad expanse of chest, Elizabeth levered herself out of his embrace, backing up a step and fidgeting nervously under his stare. He lifted one eyebrow at her in question and she opened her mouth to speak, only to find her words catch in her throat. She had to look away and swallow before she could finally speak. "What about my necklace?"

The man's face darkened, a frown settling onto his features, features that formed quite a handsome face. "Your necklace is aboard my ship. If there were a way of returning it to you, I would, but there is not."

He climbed over the ship's outer railing, his booted toes catching the first rung of a rope ladder leading down to the water below. Panicking at the closeness of his escape, Elizabeth grabbed his hand, wrapping her fingers tightly around his to keep him from retreating further.

Her last minute appeal quickly reduced to simple prideless pleading. "Captain, tell me your name and address and I'll send you the reward as I promised. You can return the necklace after you've secured the money. Name you price, Captain and I'll gladly pay whatever amount you deem fit."

Drawing her lower lip between her teeth, Elizabeth looked hopefully into the man's face and as she blinked a tear slipped out of her eye, spilling silently down her cheek. Making one last appeal to him, her voice quivered under the possibility of losing her last tangible proof of Lucky's love. "Please good sir. Help me."

The pirate captain's face softened at her plea and reaching up, he gently brushed her tear away with his thumb. The soft friction of his calloused skin over her cheek sent her heart fluttering. The way his gaze delved into hers seeking out the depths of her being caught her breath and sent a tremble through her core.

He sighed, letting his shoulders sink and Elizabeth imagined she felt his fingers tighten around hers. Then behind them a door banged open and, masked by the fog, a group of angry voices filled the air. The pirate's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing at the new threat. Pulling his hand from her grasp, he met her eyes for an instant, a flash of regret filling them before he turned, and finding a break in the fog which opened a view all the way to the water below, he dove in a long graceful arc off the side of the ship.

Elizabeth leaned over the railing searching for signs of the pirate, but the fog had settling in again and the only clue she had to his whereabouts was the muffled splash of him hitting the water below. Behind her the voices moved closer and Elizabeth darted away. With everything that had happened to her that evening, the last thing she wanted was to relive it all through the answering of the crewmen's questions.

Hurrying as fast as she could while still remaining silent, Elizabeth turned into the first hallway she found. Outside on the gangway, she could hear men running and shouting angrily in their search for the pirates. However, Elizabeth didn't stop running until she had descended a staircase and rounded a corner, putting her far from the men and their search. Finally pausing, she braced her back against the wall, giving herself a moment to catch her breath and let her heart slow.

Glancing around the corridor to make sure she was alone, Elizabeth lifted her tightly clenched fist and held in front of her. Slowly uncurling her fingers, she revealed a black onyx stone signet ring sitting neatly in the middle of her palm. Gingerly she picked it up and ran a finger over its carved "M" as a smile lifted the corners of her lips.

There was more than one way to get what she wanted.

Shutting the inn door behind him, Jason paused to let his eyes adjust to the interior darkness. The room was large and littered with sparsely occupied tables and chairs. The few customers seated at those tables were sturdy and calloused, all seeming to be from the working lower middle class whose labor turned the wheels of society. None gave him more than a passing glance before returning to their respective lunches.

With a long wooden bar along the far wall, the room more resembled a tavern than an inn and the similarity suited Jason. Taverns drew a sense of ease from his heart. It was like stepping back to a place and time when he had a home, a warm bed, and a mother who'd loved him.

Crossing to the bar, a stout man with a thick neck and broad nose ambled over to greet him, a friendly smile lifting his meaty jowls. "G'day gov'na. Good to see ya back again so soon."

Jason had stayed in the inn last weekend, renting an upstairs room for the night in order to attend the party at the Jax's. He had planned on meeting Elizabeth Webber and making an exchange to regain possession of his ring. Only what he'd presumed would be a simple transaction, hadn't been, and now he found himself returning to the small inn sooner than he expected.

But three months ago, he wouldn't have guessed he'd be scouring the English countryside in search of a slip of a Lady who'd stolen his signet ring. Lady, he scoffed to himself, vixen was a more appropriate description for the woman.

He'd no more gotten his boots under him on the deck of his ship, The Susan Bastard - named for his mother and himself - when he'd realized his signet ring was missing.

He'd immediately known what happened. That saucy little chit had taken it. Yet much to his surprise, he'd found he wasn't angry with her over it. He'd felt more than a bit foolish, but not angry. She'd known who he was, or at least known what he was, he distinctly remembered the look of recognition which had passed over her face when she'd seen his ring. Yet she'd stood her ground, even going as far as chasing him down to get what she wanted. She'd seized the advantage and managed to get the upper hand in the situation.

For that alone, she deserved his respect. No one had gotten the better of him in years, and she'd done it without once raising his suspicions. Cunning little vixen. The only excuse he could offer for being duped was he'd been distracted by her beauty. And the irony of that admission was she hadn't even tried to use her charms to turn his head. He'd fallen headlong into the trap with no provocation from her at all.

He shook his head. He might not be a gentleman, but he was a flesh and blood man. And as such, he suffered the weaknesses of his gender, such as appreciating the deep sapphire of her eyes, the pouty curve of her lips, and the generous swell of her bosom which had been decidedly hard to ignore when her soft flesh was pressed so intimately against his chest.

She, however, came armed with a quick wit and a sharp tongue. He absently reached up to rub his jaw, trying to remember the last time he'd been slapped by a woman. Perhaps when he was fifteen and had tried to steal a kiss from the sixteen-year-old cook's helper who worked in his mother's inn. At the time he'd had all the grace of a love sick mule and his oafish attempts to corner the girl by the sinks had earned him nothing more than a slap for his efforts.

He'd learned much of the art of seduction since those days and now found it nearly effortless to charm women into his bed. So much so that easy conquests were no longer interesting to him. If all he wanted was a body to warm his bed for the night, he could find willing women everywhere he went, from the lowest taverns to the finest courts. There were always the sort of women who practically begged him for his favors with their unsubtle hints and brazen offers, and frankly they bored him.

He smiled at the memory of his confrontation with Elizabeth in the garden. Her heated retorts and fiery personality made matching wits with her more than intriguing; it had, in truth, been quite stimulating.

How easily she had inflamed both his lust and his ire. He'd let her goad him into making a nasty retort about how easily it had been for her to replace her necklace. He frowned remembering the flash of pain which had crossed her face. He'd cut her to the quick with that flip remark and had immediately regretted it. Oh, she'd valiantly tried to hide her pain, but it was clear how deeply she'd been wounded. It had infuriated him, knowing he'd inflicted that pain, but his reaction to seeing it in her eyes annoyed him as well. His first impulse had been to reach out to comfort her, to soothe away the hurt, but it was a reaction he swiftly squashed. He refused to allow himself to become emotionally entangled with her.

Elizabeth Webber was a fine-born lady of the aristocracy and he was… his lips pinched into a thin line… he was who he was, and never the twain would meet.

Oh, he couldn't deny he'd imagined more. Much more. Any hot-blooded male who feasted his eyes on her luscious curves and the graceful beauty of her face would be hard pressed not to find himself imagining enjoying every dip and swell. He was not immune to her charms. He'd imagined her naked in his arms, warm and willing, bringing that same zest to their lovemaking which she brought to their heated confrontations. It was a vision which had plagued him since their first meeting on the ship, making his nights long and sleepless and souring his mood.

Yet, he knew what he desired was impossible.

She was a genteel lady, not one who dallied with casual love affairs. To ravish her body, he would have to seduce her heart. Then when it came time for him to walk away, he would crush her. It would be the height of cruelty for him to use such a fine lady for his pleasure with no intention of making a commitment of marriage to her.

Besides, if he were honest with himself, he suspected it would be difficult to walk away when the time came. He scowled. He's chosen his life knowing full well there was no room in it for a woman. Not even one as intriguing as the fair Elizabeth Webber.

Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. It would be better if he denied himself the pleasure he desired and simply walked away.

"Same room as last week, gov'na?" The innkeeper's voice cut through his thoughts and he lifted his eyes to the man. "Just the one night then or will you be staying longer this visit?"

Jason frowned as an image of Elizabeth flitted through his mind. His arm encircled her waist pulling her tightly to him, her breasts pressed against his chest, her face mere inches from his, her rich blue eyes wide with surprise and her full lips slightly parted as if begging to be kissed.

He steeled himself and firmly shoved the image out of his mind. "Just tonight. I'll be leaving for London in the morning."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It had taken her hours to get ready for the garden party, having tried on and rejected no less than eight dresses in her preparations. The first had been too frumpy, the next too risqué. One showed too much cleavage, another not enough. One green dress was discarded because it was last year's fashion and still another orange dress went into the discard pile because she thought it unflattering. Finally she threw her arms up in despair, completely annoyed with herself. It wasn't as if she were preparing for a romantic interlude or hoping to turn some gentleman's head. She was meeting a pirate to trade his stolen ring for her stolen necklace.

It was a simple business transaction. Well, she relented, remembering the way one look from those ice blue eyes of his across a crowded room had sent shivers down her spine, maybe this wasn't quite so simple after all.

She'd finally settled on an elegant pale lilac Empire-waisted dress with a scoop neckline which displayed just a hint of cleavage. A darker lavender ribbon stitched with delicate white daisies encircled the dress just beneath her bust. It was flattering without being provocative. Understated but not invisible.

Now however, in the midst of the party at the Drake's estate she wasn't as pleased with her choice. She should have gone with the long-sleeved green frock that covered her from neck to toe and made the clear statement 'leave me alone'.

Nervousness had ill set her stomach and she had barely picked at her dinner earlier. Even now thinking of her imminent meeting, her stomach lifted nauseously and she raised a shaking hand to her forehead as she turned to her friend Emily. "I can't do this."

She been on edge all week and for the most part regretted her snap decision to make Captain Morgan wait to exchange their items. She should have agreed to let him come to her house. Surely dealing with her Gram's curiosity wouldn't have been nearly as unendurable as the week of frayed nerves she'd put herself through.

Emily turned to her friend, and her brown eyes narrowed, her sweet oval face pinching at the look on Elizabeth's features. "Elizabeth, you're as white as a sheet. Come let's sit a moment."

Grateful for her friend's suggestion, Elizabeth let Emily lead her out of the noisy ballroom and into a quieter study. Emily had been Elizabeth's best friend and confidant for years and Lucky's friend before then. She'd also been Elizabeth's rock of compassion when Lucky had died, a stalwart friend and companion who let her grieve in her own way and time without being judgmental or impatient.

It only seemed natural when this new complication entered her life that Emily would be the one she went to for help and support. After a brief explanation of the situation, Emily had agreed to assist, even helping Elizabeth and her pirate sneak unseen into an upstairs bedroom so they could conduct their business in private.

Leading her to a small settee, Emily sat next to her and clasped both of Elizabeth's hands in hers. "Say the word and I'll find someone else to make the trade. I'm sure Thomas would…."

"Thomas!" Elizabeth's eyes flew wide. The thought of Sarah's husband stepping in for her was unthinkable. He could no doubt manage the exchange, but afterwards everyone and their long-lost uncles would know every scandalous detail of her private affairs. No, she and her reputation wouldn't survive Thomas' 'help'.

"No." Elizabeth shook her head. "No, I have to do this. This is my own doing and I'm going to see it through."

"Are you sure?"

Emily's concern seemed to calm her and she took a deep breath as she nodded. "I'll be fine. I only wish it was over and done with." Elizabeth's hand went to her neck, not to clasp Lucky's medallion, but to worry the length of necklace which dipped under the neckline of her bodice. At least the ring was safe.

Emily leaned forward, speaking in a hushed tone. "Well, I'm looking forward to it. I've never met a real pirate before. Does he look as horrible as the newspapers say? Scarred and twisted."

Feeling her face heat, Elizabeth tried to stifle the smile that spread over her face. Horrible? Definitely not. Yet she wasn't about to admit to Emily she thought him quite handsome. "Not horrible. No. In fact if you didn't know better, you'd never suspect he was a pirate."

Emily pouted. "How dull. Surely he looks menacing. I would think a pirate must look menacing. I mean how could he instill fear in the seamen of the ships he robs if he doesn't? If he climbed aboard looking foppish, no one would be afraid of him a'tall and he'd not be such an accomplished pirate, would he?"

Emily's rambling made Elizabeth laugh. "Yes, he's very good at looking menacing. I'm sure he won't disappoint you on that account."

"I'm worried for you Elizabeth." Emily propped her chin in her hand and frowned at her friend. "I don't like this. He could harm you when you're alone with him."

"He won't." Elizabeth said with conviction. "He's had better opportunities to do me harm and hasn't. I trust him."

Emily sighed, then abruptly stood. "Well, shall we take a turn through the party and see if your rogue has arrived?"

"He's not my rogue." Elizabeth said as she stood.

"Maybe not." Emily linked elbows with her friend and guided them out of the room. "But I want to find him. My curiosity has gotten the better of me. Besides what a story this will be for my grandchildren. Once when I was young I invited a pirate to my garden party…"

Elizabeth elbowed her in the ribs to quiet her as they entered the ballroom. Her cool gaze caused Emily to break out in giggles and several people turned to stare at them. Elizabeth sped up, dragging Emily along and making her friend trip on the hem of her peach dress.

"Honestly Elizabeth!" Emily's doe eyes glittered with irritation. She planted her feet firmly and forced Elizabeth to slow. "How are we going to see anyone with you rushing about."

Ignoring Emily, Elizabeth craned her neck and rose on her toes to see the entirety of the room. He wasn't here. Without a word, she pulled Emily along and the two of them searched the lower floors. However, the pirate captain was nowhere to be seen. Rounding a corner back into the crowded ballroom where they'd begun, Emily pouted to exaggeration. "Blast it all, where is the oaf?" Then her head turned and her eyes widened. "Someone's just arrived."

Elizabeth turned to gaze into Emily's face. "How do you know?"

"Trust me, I've lived in this house all my life. I know when I hear the front door opening." A grin of anticipation spread over Emily's face and she leaned toward Elizabeth, whispering conspiratorially, "That must be him. Everyone else is already here."

Elizabeth's heart dropped into her stomach and as Emily started to pull her through the crowd toward the entrance hall Elizabeth's feet turned leaden and refused to be dragged forward. "I don't think it's a good idea to surprise him. We want to look dignified, not.." she rolled her eyes, "…eager."

The gentle reproach brought Emily to her senses. She straightened and smoothed the front of her dress. The dark auburn ringlets cascading from her upsweep bounced gaily as she turned her head toward Elizabeth. "Dignified. Right." Then she took a deep breath and smiled naughtily at her friend, "What if we try to look menacing as well?"

Elizabeth tried not to smile, she really did, but Emily's suggestion was so ludicrous it was impossible not to. "Emily, I hate to tell you, but you wouldn't look menacing if you were holding a pistol on someone."

Linking her arm through Elizabeth's, Emily lifted her head. "The nerve. I'll have you know I can look menacing if the situation calls for it." She paused, then turned to her friend to giggled. "I've simply never been in a situation where it's been necessary."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at Emily's remark and together they passed through the large arched doorway between the ball room and the entry. Her nervousness forgotten because of Emily's playful banter, Elizabeth's eyes roamed the room expecting to find the Pirate Captain making his introductions at the door.

What she saw instead made her stop short.

Mouth agape, she started to turn before she was noticed, but with her arm linked through Emily's she couldn't move fast enough. Their entrance had drawn the attention of the newcomers and as three sets of eyes met hers, it was only her years of instruction in proper etiquette which kept her from bolting from the room.

Prince Nikolas Cassadine smiled when he saw her. His obsidian eyes glowed as they swept her from head to toe. Elizabeth felt her skin crawl under his gaze, although proper decorum made her plaster an answering smile on her face. Through clenched teeth she whispered to Emily, "This is the perfect opportunity for that menacing look of yours."

Emily stared at her in confusion, but Elizabeth didn't have time to explain as Nikolas broke away from where his Uncle Stefan and Grandmother Helena were conversing with several guests and made his way across the room to where they were standing.

"Miss Webber, it is a pleasure to meet you again." He dipped into a low bow in front of her, and by rote she dropped into a curtsey and lifted her hand, which he took in his, lifting it to his lips and placing a kiss on her knuckles.

"Prince Cassadine, it is a pleasure." Then Elizabeth felt Emily nudging her and removing her hand from Nikolas' grasp, she swept it to the side to introduce her friend. "This is my good friend Miss Emily Bowen. Emily, this is Prince Nikolas Cassadine."

Emily curtseyed and offered her hand, which Nikolas readily accepted, bowing and placing a lighter kiss on her knuckles.

"I am very pleased to meet you Prince Cassadine."

"The pleasure is mine, I'm sure. You have my leave to call me Nikolas."

Elizabeth's eyes darted to her friend and found Emily smiling like a silly school girl with a blush pinking her cheeks and her mouth nearly fell open. Emily was attracted to this pompous cad? She was going to have to have a long talk later with her friend about her taste in men, or lack thereof.

"What brings you to Oxfordshire, Prince Nikolas?" Emily's blush deepened as she said his name. Elizabeth wanted to smack her.

"Business." Nikolas said, turning his gaze back on Elizabeth as he answered.

Elizabeth didn't like that look. It was too lustful, too much like a hunter who'd spotted its quarry for her to feel at ease. An urge to douse the heat behind those eyes made her bring up the awkwardness of their last meeting. "I'm surprised you are speaking to me after my appallingly inappropriate comments at our last meeting. Surely you haven't forgiven me so easily."

"Quite the opposite I'm afraid. I found your candor refreshing." He lifted a dark eyebrow. "You would be surprised how few people take me to task for my own inappropriate behavior. I find myself in a position of owing you an apology for my treatment of you at dinner."

Elizabeth's cheeks colored, but not with embarrassment, anger heated her face. What a conceited, over-bearing, egotistical fop! Did he think he could simply spout a few trite words and she would forgive him his trespasses? Ha! She straightened her spine and favored him with a cool look. "Yes, you do."

Nikolas bent at the waist, one arm crossed over his stomach, one arm behind his back, bowing deeply before Elizabeth, although his eyes never left hers. "I most humbly beg your forgiveness. I acted like a cad and if you would allow I wish to make amends for my error." Then he straightened and added, "I had hoped to apologize aboard ship, but alas, I was forced to seek you out to set things aright."

Eyes widening at his implication, that he had specifically searched her out to….to make amends… she nearly gasped. He came looking for her because he wanted to…. to court her. Disbelief made her mouth drop open and she watched as a Cheshire Cat grin spread over his face. He knew she understood his implication. Her head spun at the realization, however she was saved from making a reply as Nikolas' Uncle and Grandmother came up behind him.

Nikolas stepped to the side, closer to her, Elizabeth noted with a mental grimace, giving his Uncle and Grandmother room to join the conversation. Introductions were first in order.

"This is my Uncle, Duke Stefan Cassadine and my Grandmother, the Grand Duchess Helena Cassadine." Nikolas waved a hand between his uncle and grandmother, then in turn to Elizabeth and Emily. "You remember Miss Webber from the trip and this is her friend Miss Emily Bowen."

Both women curtseyed politely, murmuring greetings. Stefan bowed with a nod of his head. "Charmed." As his gaze skipped over her, Elizabeth clearly saw an amused expression in his eyes.

However, the older woman's eyes were as hard as granite; shrewd and calculating. Elizabeth stiffened under her cold gaze. She doubted there was anything which Helena didn't see.

Stefan's smooth voice cut into the silence. "My pardon ladies, but I must steal Prince Nikolas to make our greetings to our host."

Emily came to life then, offering up herself as both host's daughter and intermediary. "That would be my parents. I would be most happy to make introductions."

Stefan dipped his head, "We would be grateful."

With a half bow, he turned, offered his mother his arm and together they strode away. Stefan's back was as straight as a board, and he oozed nobility and formality. Nikolas watched them go a moment before turning back to the two women. His smile was too practiced, too smooth to be sincere. He kept his voice low so only the three of them could hear. "My grandmother, the Grand Duchess, is quite proper and holds to the ideals of the old world." He leaned in closer to whisper, "Most people find her highly abrasive."

Emily gasped at the incorrigible insult the Prince had related about his own Grandmother. Such things were simply not said in polite company. Elizabeth only sighed. She'd already met the Grand Duchess and found Nikolas' remark to be all too accurate. However, she had no time or inclination to comment, as Nikolas reached for her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. He held it there possessively and turned to Emily. "Emily, we are in your capable hands."

Emily took position at Nikolas' far side and while chattering incessantly to the Prince, deftly guiding them through the ballroom to a library where her parents were entertaining a small group of friends at cards. Elizabeth managed to keep a good foot of open space between her and Nikolas as he kept her hand captured in the crook of his arm. Gritting her teeth through her smile she refused to speak to the man, and at one point as they neared the far exit of the ballroom she thought she caught a glimpse of black out of the corner of her eye and felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Turning for a better look, she saw nothing except a sea of cream and tan jackets and colorful dresses.

Emily made introductions, although Helena looked down her nose reproachfully at the entire exchange. Stefan and Nikolas were both charming, but Nikolas' frequent stares made her feel like gagging.

It was a good quarter of an hour before she could snag Emily's attention, so enraptured was she with the Cassadines. However, when she did, Elizabeth pinned her with a glare so heated Emily blushed. With a quick flick of her eyes towards the door, she hoped to remind her friend of tonight's primary goal. Elizabeth hadn't forgotten that flash of black, and whether that particular sighting had been the pirate or not, she needed to find him.

Fortunately Emily caught Elizabeth's hint and made the proper excuses. Elizabeth could barely keep herself from running from the room.

Stopping short just inside the ballroom, Elizabeth rose to her toes to see over the crowd. Then she shook her head in frustration when the effort proved fruitless. She simply wasn't tall enough to see over the heads of the guests. Finally out of vocal range of the library, Emily started peppering her with questions. "A Prince? Elizabeth how could you not tell me you met a Prince? Especially one so handsome." Emily giggled and Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "And he seems so taken with you."

Without a word, Elizabeth grabbed Emily's hand and started pulling her around the edge of the room. Emily followed obediently chattering away, then nearly plowed into Elizabeth's back when she stopped short again.

The four piece ensemble in the corner had started to play a lively tune and the partiers were lining up in a long double row, ladies to the right, gentlemen to the left, for a dance. Through the clearing periphery of the room, she saw him. A dark shadow set against the warm maple wainscoting. He was leaning casually with his back against the wall, legs crossed at the ankle, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes locked unflinchingly on her.

Their gaze held and a shiver ran down her spine. Beside her, she heard Emily gasp. "That's him?" Her voice was little more than a choked whisper.

Pulling her eyes from the pirate and trying her best to ignore the tremble passing through her, she turned to Emily. Although as she did, she caught a glimpse of Nikolas through the dancers as he stepped through the library door and into the ballroom. Elizabeth cringed, then wished she knew the proper swear words to express her feelings at that moment.

Yanking open the small reticule hanging from her wrist, she pulled out the note she'd prepared. Lifting her eyes to Emily, she found her friend's attention focused on the pirate on the far side of the room.

"Emily!" Elizabeth hissed, keeping her voice low. Emily's face snapped to hers and dread shone in her eyes.

"I don't like this Elizabeth." Emily was shaking her head and clutching at Elizabeth's hand. "He looks dangerous."

"I'll be fine." Elizabeth met her friend's worried gaze with confidence. "However, Prince Nikolas just walked into the room and I need you to distract him."

Lifting a hand to her forehead, Emily turned to see the Prince searching the room. She nodded. "What should I say if he asks about you?"

"Tell him I've had an attack of the vapors and had to lie down for a few minutes."

Emily met Elizabeth's gaze. Both faces were clouded with worry and Emily threw her arms around her friend, hugging her tightly. "Be careful. I have years of trouble to cause and I expect you to be beside me every step of the way."

Elizabeth held onto the safety her friend represented for a heartbeat before backing away. "If I don't return in twenty minutes, find your brother and come for me."

Taking a shaky breath, Emily nodded, then forced herself to smile and whirled, taking off to intercept Nikolas. Elizabeth stared at the note she held, then stiffening her resolve, tented the small card in the palm of her hand.

Lifting her gaze, she found that while nearly everyone in the room was concentrating on the dance, the pirate stood glaring at Nikolas. Pushing off the wall, his arms still crossed over his chest, he frowned as he watched the man offer Emily his arm. Then he turned his gaze back toward Elizabeth, and the intensity in those eyes made her heart stutter in her chest. She lifted her hand, showing him the note nestled in her palm, then turned and fled into the entry hall, where she left the note propped on the center table and hurried toward the staircase.

The note was short and simple.

Outside behind the house

Second floor balcony

Third door from the right

Ten minutes

She planned to enter the room from the inside, and if anyone saw her, she would make the excuse she'd offered Emily. She was feeling unwell and needed to lie down a few moments. The pirate would enter from the outside balcony and no one would be any the wiser to their meeting.

Elizabeth didn't slow until she was in the small bedroom with the door firmly shut and locked behind her. She barely had time to light a lamp off of a smoldering twig from the embers burning in the room's fireplace when she heard a noise on the balcony. She whirled in time to see the balcony doors sweep open and Captain Morgan stride into the room.

His eyes roamed the room, stopping to rest on the bed before turning to lock onto her with a frown creasing his brow.

His presence seemed to suck the breath from her chest and Elizabeth shivered as the space seemed to shrink around them. He'd scattered her wits entering as suddenly as he did and as flustered as she was by his presence, she reacted by lashing out. "You didn't wait ten minutes."

Holding up her note, his eyebrow lifted in challenge. "And you failed to mention I'd be climbing a trellis to reach the second floor balcony."

Elizabeth smiled at the mention of her intentional oversight. She could have chosen another meeting place easier for him to reach, but none had been as assured of privacy. Besides after everything he'd put her through, what was the harm in making him slightly uncomfortable in his quest to retrieve his precious ring? She lifted a challenging eyebrow in return. "I didn't think a trellis would be a challenge for someone of your… talents." She stressed the last word and let her insinuation linger between them a heartbeat before continuing. "Was I incorrect in my assumption?"

He didn't smile, but Elizabeth saw a glint of humor shine in his eyes and lifted her chin at her slight victory.

"Do you have my ring?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes. Do you have my necklace?"

Captain Morgan reached into an inside pocket of this jacket and removed a small velvet pouch. Tipping its contents into his hand, he picked up the necklace by its chain and lifted it for Elizabeth to see.

Joy surged through her at the sight of Lucky's necklace and she stepped forward, reaching out to take it. However, the pirate moved it out of her reach. Wordlessly he tipped his head in a demand for his property.

Snorting, Elizabeth reached behind her neck and unclasped the chain she wore. Then she slowly drew it the length of it out from under the fabric of her bodice. The pirate's eyes followed the movement of the chain and widened when his ring appeared, slipping out from its hiding place in her bosom.

Each extended their items and as Elizabeth wrapped one hand around her necklace while releasing the ring from her grip, a sense of relief flooded her. She drew the necklace to her chest and closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of the cool medallion against her skin. She'd missed it so much these last months. Quickly she secured the necklace around her neck and smiled as she smoothed a hand over the coin as it lay on her chest.

She lifted her eyes to find the pirate captain dropping his ring into the empty velvet pouch and tucking it safely inside his coat pocket.

They had concluded their business, but as his clear blue eyes met hers, she found she wasn't ready to return downstairs. Waiting for her was a Prince who had set his sights on courting her and she wasn't quite ready to face him yet.

"Thank you, Mr. Morgan."

His gaze held hers, flustering her, and she had to tear her eyes away as her stomach quivered, her voice catching in her throat as she started to ramble. "You gave my friend quite a fright downstairs. She was worried about my safety meeting with you alone."

She heard her giggle and cringed, strangling the sound and trying desperately to collect her scattered thoughts. How could he do that to her with only a look? She'd be better off with Prince Cassadine downstairs. At least with him she was in full control of her faculties.

"Are you afraid of me?"

Elizabeth paused at his question, uncertain what to make of it. She searched his face, seeing his curious, almost expectant look. He was so good at keeping his emotions guarded, his expression unreadable, that the few times she'd glimpsed more, a little humor, a little anger, and now a little curiosity, made her want to know more. To know what else lay behind that stoic mask he wore.

Her lip curled in a faint grin. He had made the effort to find her and return her necklace, even if he had been coerced; the least he deserved from her was the truth. "Not anymore." Her lips curved into an easy smile. "But you can look quite menacing when you choose…"

The idea hit her like a lightening bolt, cutting her off mid-sentence. Mouth agape, she stared at him wide-eyed, shaking her head. No. It was insane. She couldn't. Yet, the idea was too brilliant to pass up.

Tugging her lower lip between her teeth, she reached up to tuck a stray wisp of hair which had escaped her elaborate chignon behind her ear.

Jason's eyes narrowed. "What?"

Twisting her hands together, Elizabeth warred over the sanity of asking the pirate for a favor and decided it was ludicrous. Then she remembered Nikolas downstairs and how he'd shown up brazenly announcing his intentions of courting her and cringed at the idea of fighting him off all night. Better to make it perfectly clear she was uninterested and unavailable. Taking a deep breath, she looked at the pirate, finding his expression had reverted to his usual stoic, unreadable mask. "May I beg one more favor?"

He frowned. That wasn't good. So she rushed to explain. "There is a gentleman downstairs who is intent on courting me despite the fact that I've made it perfectly plain I have absolutely no interest in him. He insists on forcing his attentions on me."

The pirate's frown became a scowl. "What does that have to do with me?"

She pushed forward before she lost her nerve or common sense stopped her, "If you would pretend to be my suitor then he would know I'm unavailable and be forced to give up his quest for my hand."

The pirate's scowl deepened, drawing his eyebrows together. Elizabeth it took as a bad sign and yet having committed herself to asking the favor, she blundered ahead with her request. "You're here. All we would have to do is dance a few times and.."

"I don't dance."

"Fine, we'll take a stroll around the gardens. It doesn't matter. And it's only for tonight. I'm not asking you to marry me, just pretend to court me and glare menacingly at Prince Cassadine."

He watched her for a long moment before answering. "You want me to scare him away."

It was a bald statement not a question, and as the pirate's icy blue eyes searched hers, Elizabeth lifted her head. "Yes."

He frowned and half turned from her, showing her his profile. Hands on hips, he growled low in his throat and shook his head. She could see his jaw muscles working like taut cords low across his cheeks and held her breath.

Without turning to face her, he glanced in her direction then stared straight ahead, his voice low and tight. "I've done what I came to do. My business here is finished. Good-bye Miss Webber." Turning, he yanked open the balcony door and strode out.

Startled, Elizabeth started after him, calling her question to his broad back. "You're not going to help me?"

"No." He answered without turning and bracing one hand on the cement railing, vaulted it and disappeared. Hearing his boots crunch in the gravel below, Elizabeth nearly ran onto the balcony to call after him, but halted inside the room. She couldn't take the chance of being seen. It didn't take a large imagination to know what people would think they'd been doing if anyone saw the two of them leaving a guest bedroom together.

Shutting the door, Elizabeth frowned again at her lack of knowledge of swear words. She was sure at least one would be more than appropriate to adequately describe how she was feeling at the moment. That had been an unmitigated disaster, but at least she'd tried. No doubt Mr. Morgan would soon be on his way back to wherever he came from and she'd never see him again. A flicker of sadness welled at that thought and she frowned. Why should she be sad? She should be relieved she'd never see the pirate again; he'd caused her more than enough problems.

Sighing, she brought her mind to her immediate troubles. Bringing a hand to her forehead, she groaned. Her best idea had run out on her, and now she didn't know what to do. Well, she'd best head downstairs before Emily panicked at her prolonged absence and brought her bother Patrick up here looking for her.

By the time she made it to the ballroom, she'd only come up with a temporary plan. She'd claim a headache and beg her leave. That at least would spare her spending the evening with the Prince and allow her time to assemble a more suitable rejection.

Emily was waiting in the ballroom next to the Prince, her eyes wide as saucers, obviously in distress and when she saw Elizabeth enter the room, she cried out and rushed to embrace her. "You're alright."

"Of course I am." Elizabeth said, "I told you I would be fine."

Nikolas was at their side when they separated, taking Elizabeth's hand and bringing it to his lips. "I'm happy to see you are feeling better. If you are up to it, I would be most honored if you'd favor me with a dance."

Elizabeth faltered, the question wasn't unexpected, but she'd hoped for more time to enjoy herself before having to make her excuses and leave. Tugging gently on her hand, she tried to free it from Nikolas' hold, but he had her fingers firmly in his grasp and refused to release them.

"Regretfully, I must tell you…." Her voice trailed off as she noticed both Emily and Nikolas' attention shift to a point over her shoulder. Nikolas' face darkened in the beginnings of a scowl, whereas Emily's went positively pale.

Turning to see what they were gaping at, Elizabeth sucked in a surprised breath when she found the Pirate Captain Jason Morgan at her side. Frowning, his pale blue eyes twin chunks of clear ice, he stared lethally at Prince Nikolas. Unable to stop herself, Elizabeth smiled, beaming at him in joyful relief.

"I believe Miss Webber has already promised me a stroll around the gardens." He stated, dropping his eyes to her for an instant. They softened for a heartbeat and that shift sent a shiver down her spine. Then he was back to business, fixing Nikolas with a heated glare, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Now remove your hand from her before I remove it for you."

The note she sent the pirate the next morning contained no information whatsoever about the upcoming party.

After another long night of little sleep, Elizabeth had awoken with her thoughts flustered about attending Saturday's party with the dark and dangerous pirate. To dispel her nervousness she'd sat and written a note to Mr. Morgan complete with all the pertinent information concerning the party. It was a trite and formal piece of correspondence with a neatly detailed listing of time and place, proper dress code and whatnot. Then as she'd reread it for accuracy, she curled her lip in dissatisfaction at its aloofness and ripped it to pieces.

Then with a sly smile spreading over her face, she'd written a second note. This one contained only directions and a time. Sealing it in an envelope, she impressed the warm wax with her signet, a cursive E decorated with a flourish of ornate loops. Finally to complete her plan, she dashed off a second short note to Emily.

Once both were sealed and ready for delivery, she went in search of Michael, the little red-haired stable boy. Finding him, Elizabeth sent him off with both notes in hand and orders to deliver them as quickly as possible.

Hurrying back inside, she next went to the kitchen where she was enveloped by the warm, yeasty smell of baking bread. Spying the cook, she commissioned a picnic lunch for 'Emily' and herself. It wasn't an unusual request; she and Emily routinely met and shared picnics on bright sunshine-filled days. As such, the cook didn't bat at eye, but only set about blustering at her helpers and sending them scurrying to gather the necessary ingredients for the meal.

With a self-satisfied smile, Elizabeth scurried back to her room, making sure as she did to carefully avoid any place where her Gram might be. Elizabeth hadn't spoken with Gram since the older woman had returned home last evening from her weekly visit with her good friend, Lady Leslie Spencer, but she knew Gram must have heard the gossip about her unseemly behavior at Emily's party. Lady Spencer wouldn't have been able kept that juicy bit of scandal to herself, especially when she was informing the subject of said gossip's Grandmother of her grand-daughter's appallingly unladylike behavior.

Once clad in her riding habit and still bent on avoiding Gram, and the lecture she knew would follow, she ducked through the house pausing only to leave a note in the entryway explaining that she'd gone to meet Emily for a picnic. Then hurrying to the stables, she quickly strapped her sidesaddle on her chestnut mare, Treasure Box. The cook's helper brought the picnic basket and it only took Elizabeth another moment to tie it securely behind her saddle.

Giving Treasure Box one last rub on the nose, Elizabeth climbed onto the mounting box, hooked her knee around the pommel, and settled into place. She carefully smoothed her skirts before taking the reins, then clucked her tongue and nudged with her heel, and Treasure Box was on the move.

Once she was down the road and out of earshot of Hartwood Manor Elizabeth finally relaxed. She'd pulled off her plan, and as long as Emily did her part, no one would be the wiser.

Cresting the third rise, Elizabeth turned Treasure Box off the graveled roadway and onto an overgrown and disused path leading into the dense woods which spread to the north of the estate.

Expertly guiding her mount through the thick trees and brambles, she came to a wide grassy meadow, which rolled slowly away in a gentle clover covered slope before meeting the banks of a large placid lake.

The meadow and lake were at one time well known and well used by the Hardy-Webber family and during that time her Grandfather, Steven Hardy, had kept the path to the lake and the boathouse well tended. However, since his death and her own parents' lack of appreciation of such matters, both the path and small house had been left to languish. The forest had quickly reclaimed the path and the boathouse, left to its own devices, was in the process of slowly collapsing in upon itself.

Elizabeth thought it quite sad that something her Grandfather had cared so much about had been so callously abandoned, but at the moment, her thoughts were far from the crumbling boathouse and her indignation at its slow, unmourned death. Rather she was worried about her note to Mr. Morgan. Had she given adequate directions or was he wandering aimlessly through the trees trying to decipher her instructions?

However, as she peered down into the wildflower dotted vale she found she needent have worried. Mr. Morgan was there waiting for her.

He was standing beside his mount, a sleek black beast that snorted and stamped at her arrival, with one of his hands securely holding the horse's bridle, while the other leisurely stroked its neck.

To her surprise, instead of wearing a proper riding outfit, Mr. Morgan wore a loose-fitting white shirt tucked into black riding breeches, which were in turn tucked into knee-high black Hessian riding boots. His hair hung rakishly around his face, while the sun painted it with golden and caramel highlights.

He was a pirate again and the sight of him instantly vaulted her back to that moment on the ship when she'd slipped while chasing him. He'd caught her with one arm and in the blink of an eye, she'd found herself pressed intimately against the hard plane of his chest. The memory was so startlingly vivid that she felt her breasts tingle in reaction and her face heat in a blush.

He turned to face her then and being captured by that pale blue stare stirred a peculiar nervous fluttering in the pit of her stomach. Elizabeth straightened her spine as she steeled her resolve, and taking hold of her nerves, she nudged Treasure Box with her heel and started down the gentle slope to meet him.

She was beside him long before she'd managed to wrest control of the flock of butterflies in her stomach. So in lieu of control, she was curt. "You're early again. This is getting to be quite a bad habit."

He pulled her note out of his shirt pocket and quirked an eyebrow at her, which was the closest thing to humor she'd seen from him. "I gave myself extra time in case there was a trellis I needed to climb."

She tried not to smile, then deliberately turned away from him and began to loosen the ties on the picnic basket behind her. With her butterflies still flying wildly, she did the second best thing to cover her discomposure. She began to prattle.

"Since you have so graciously agreed to pose as my suitor, I thought there were a few things you should know about me." She lifted the basket and handed it down into his waiting hands. "If Nikolas is to believe we are a couple, he would expect you to know my family and other personal details. And…" she lifted her own eyebrow back at him. "We need to create a story to explain who you are and how we met."

As he took the basket from her, her gaze happened to fall on his hands. Seeing his long lean fingers wrapped around the woven wicker, she found herself musing that they could very easily have been musician's fingers, wrapping around an instrument or stretching across the keyboard of a piano forte. However, his hands weren't a musician's, his were calloused, hard and capable, bearing a strength she'd seen displayed on more than one occasion. Yet she also knew them to be gentle, and the contradiction discomposed her further.

Then those hands were reaching for her, settling on her waist to help her down from her saddle. Her breath caught in her throat at the feel of those fingers spanning her waist and she instinctively reached out to steady herself by placing her gloved hands on his shoulders. He lifted her easily and then lowered her to her feet, not taking advantage as some men might by easing her down too closely and 'accidentally' sliding her body against his.

So, the pirate was a gentleman.

She was grateful for his gallant behavior and intended to thank him, but as she lifted her eyes to his face, her gaze caught at his throat where the unlaced collar of his shirt gaped to reveal several inches of smooth chest. Her mouth, which had begun to open, fell at the sight. She was scandalized, embarrassment heated her face, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. His throat came down in a 'v' where it met his chest, broad and flat, and she could plainly see the chiseled edges of his muscle ripple as he moved. An alarmingly powerful urge to run her bare fingertips over those muscles simply to feel them moving under her touch seized her and sent a tremble to her very core.

Her blush spread and began generating heat in places far removed from her face. Suddenly her sturdy riding skirt and jacket seemed like altogether too much clothing, yet at the same time, not nearly enough. At this moment she doubted she would feel safe if she were clad head to toe in a suit of armor.

Then in an instant pure mortification she realized was staring at him in a very unladylike manner, and took a step back to put some much needed distance between them and backed straight into her horse. She snapped her jaw shut, turned away from him, and in her embarrassment, flew into a stammering banter.

"My… my Gram thinks I'm meeting Emily for a picnic. Of course I had to tell the cook to make a lunch for Emily and I so I'm sure whatever is in the basket, it will undoubtedly be something you'll not like. I think, however, it would have been a bit suspicious if I'd asked for a lunch of steak and kidney pie with a tankard of ale."

She bit her lip and rolled her eyes at the innaneness of her prattle, but she was so rattled by her thoughts that she couldn't seem to stop herself. Her face burning, she clamped her lips and focused on gathering Treasure Box's reins. The mare refused to cooperate and instead shied away from her fumbling attempt at restraint. However, before the horse could prance away, Mr. Morgan reached out and snagged the reins with one hand.

"Allow me." The corners of his eyes lifted in a show of amusement and it tweaked her pride to be so easily outdone on such a simple task.

"Thank you, Mr. Morgan." She said, emphasizing the Mr. with the rather haughty tone she took when she was annoyed. The pirate's only reaction was a rather tight, slightly mocking smile and a slight brightening of the glint of amusement glowing in his eyes.

She watched him lead Treasure Box away and tether her to a sapling in a spot that gave her plenty of both shade and grass to munch on. Turning her back on them, she lifted a hand to her forehead and debated her sanity. What was she doing? She was putting herself, her virtue, and her reputation at risk, all to save herself the bother of sending away an unwanted suitor.

She was insane.

There was no other explanation.

Picking up the picnic basket, she strode to a spot which had an unobstructed view of the lake and its tree-lined far shore. Spreading the blanket over the grass, she knelt as she lifted the basket's lid and started pulling out plates, silverware, napkins and crockery. A smaller basket of food was nestled inside, covered with a towel and Elizabeth lifted it out as Mr. Morgan appeared at her side.

She set to work arranging place settings for the two of them, more in an effort to avoid meeting his eyes than to create an ideal table setting. She wasn't quite composed yet and was half afraid of having her senses scattered again before she'd finished collecting them. When she got everything in place and the basket of food positioned between them, she waved her hand to invite Mr. Morgan to sit across from her.

"Please." She chanced a quick glance and found his expression to be that same neutral gaze he normally wore. It relieved her to see that emotionless look, it made her think that he hadn't noticed her earlier mortifying slip in etiquette.

Clearing her throat as he casually made his way around to his designated spot on the blanket, Elizabeth sat, tucking her legs around to her right, and leaned forward to remove the towel from the basket of food. It was filled to the brim with dainty sandwiches, scones, tiny pink frosted cakes, a pot of jam and a crock of lemonade, as she knew it would be. All food perfectly fine for her and Emily to picnic on, but somewhat lacking in substance for such a man as Jason Morgan.

"I hope you like watercress sandwiches." Elizabeth lifted her eyes to him, trying not to notice chest and not imagine running her fingers over it. He had sat causally with one leg stretched out before him and the other bent with an elbow resting on his knee, and was looking down into the basket with that same indifferent expression.

Then ignoring his plate, silverware and serving utensils, he reached in a picked up a sandwich, neatly triangled with the crusts cut off, folded it in half and stuffed it in his mouth.

Elizabeth's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. The pirate lifted an eyebrow and reached for another, which he neatly folded again and popped into his mouth.

"Do they taste better that way?" She was being contentious, but she didn't care. She found being contrary helped her hold onto her composure around him.

"You should try it and find out."

His eyes held hers without blinking. He was challenging her. What a completely ludicrous suggestion. Stuffing your mouth with food was something proper ladies simply didn't do. Her years of schooling in manners and etiquette reared their head and staunchly forbade her from doing something so uncouth, so base, and so indecent. With her pride still stinging from her earlier slip into lasciviousness, the fact was she simply couldn't bring herself to further degrade herself.

Instead she lifted the serving knife and slid it under a sandwich and daintily transferred it to her plate. Then lifting her fork and knife she went to work neatly cutting it into bite sized pieces. She filled the expectant pause in the air by starting to tell him about her family.

It didn't take long. There were only her Grams and Grandfather Hardy, rest his soul, her parents, her brother Steven, his wife and four children, and her sister Sarah, her husband and two children. In all it took no more than a quarter of an hour to explain every the important relationships of her life. It seemed far too short a time. Well, she admitted, she hadn't told him about everyone. She'd conveniently skipped the most important person in her life, but then talking about Lucky still wasn't easy, even after all these years. She didn't know if she should, much less if she could.

Elizabeth's eyes cut to the pirate, who was in the middle of downing a scone smothered with strawberry jam. He'd listened intently during her description of her family, yet hadn't volunteered any information about himself. She wondered if he would or if she was going to have to drag it out of him.

As he licked the jam off his thumb, his gaze strayed again to the lake and she watched a brief a look pass over his face like a shadow. Pulling her knees up, she wrapped her arms around her legs and hugged them to her chest.

"You miss it don't you?" He turned to look at her warily and when he didn't respond, she went on. "The water. The ocean. Being the captain of your ship and sailing wherever you choose."

His jaw tightened and he bent both legs, his feet braced apart, rested his elbows on his knees, and let his hands dangle between them, yet he said nothing.

She watched him as he shifted his gaze from her back to the lake. Then another question, which had been hovering at edge of her thoughts since he'd stepped in to rescue her during the ball at Thorn Hall came to her and it seemed the perfect moment to ask.

"Why are you helping me?"

His gaze flicked to her, his eyebrows drawn together and his lips pinched into a thin line, and she was amazed at how those ice blue eyes could be so dark and brooding. She could see thought and emotion flickering in the depths of those eyes, hinting at much, yet revealing nothing.

Elizabeth pulled her lower lip between her teeth and when the silence and the weight of his stare became too much, she started talking, both to make herself clearer and to fill the uncomfortable void. "Because I have not nearly enough money to pay you a reward and I have no intention of offering you my virtue as a reward, like some overly-grateful, simpering fool. If you expect a dalliance as compensation for your efforts, then I must ask you to stop immediately."

If anything his frown deepened and his expression darkened, but she'd finally goaded him into speaking. "I'm helping you because you need help. I expect no reward, monetary or otherwise."

Then he looked away, casting his hardened gaze across the lake. He radiated tension like fire radiated heat and she half expected him to get up and leave. She'd offended him but she could think of no way to repair what she'd done. She refused to apologize. If anything she was glad that it was plain between them, and he wouldn't let the expectation of any favors from her color his future decisions.

She was still fishing about for something to say when his voice broke the silence.

"If I'm to be your suitor, there is a question I need to ask."

His expression was still hard and unforgiving, but Elizabeth was more curious than worried about what he might ask. She tipped her head to the side and lifted her eyebrows as way of giving him permission to ask what he wanted.

He stared at the coin pendant on her necklace. "Why is that necklace so important to you?"

She had no expectation of what his question would be, but he took her by surprise and it took her a few minutes to gather up the courage to answer him.

"There was a man." She smiled at the memory as she stroked her fingers over the medallion, then shook her head and corrected herself. "No, a boy really. Lucas Lorenzo Spencer. He was kind and generous and helpful to a fault. Everyone who knew him called him Lucky. I was sixteen and he was seventeen. We were inseparable and everyone fully expected our betrothal when I came of age. He was everything to me. My life. My love. My future." Her lopsided smile made it to her eyes as she lost herself in the past. Lifting the coin medallion on her necklace, she gazed lovingly at it. "I found this during a picnic we had at some ruins behind his house. Lucky had it mounted and presented it to me as a gift."

Her smile faltered as the events of the week following that gift flooded back to her. A fist contracted painfully around her heart and another closed around her throat. Tears filled her eyes and she tried to blink them back. After all these years the loss was still raw.

"One day him and his father were returning from London when they spied a burning house. They rushed to help and found several children leaning out of an upstairs window. They were trapped by the smoke and flames and too young and terrified to leap from the third floor to the men waiting below to catch them. Without thought for his own safety, Lucky rushed into the burning house to rescue them. He dropped them one by one to the men below. Then before he could escape…" her voice caught and tears fell unchecked, "the roof collapsed." Her voice gave out then, and she pinched her lips and squeezed her eyes shut to keep from sobbing. Lucky hadn't had a chance. He'd saved a family he didn't know and paid for that kindness with his life.

A light touch along her jaw snapped her eyes open, and she saw the pirate reaching out to cup her cheek with his fingers. His expression was stony, but in his eyes she saw understanding and compassion, and as his thumb lightly brushed a tear from her cheek, something inside her melted. Her sob broke free and long denied tears filled her eyes and spilled unchecked down her face.

Then he slid his hand behind her head and pulled her to him. She went willingly, burying her face in his neck and for the first time, she let herself truly mourn.

~*~*~*~

As she rode Treasure Box back through the forest toward Hartwood Manor, all Elizabeth could think about was her strange and unsettling afternoon. It was unlike anything she'd expected or planned. Oh she and Mr. Morgan had worked out the details of their cover story, which had been the primary goal of the picnic. He was to be a wealthy, yet untitled, gentleman who traveled at his leisure, and they'd met in passing during her journey home from India. He'd briefly come aboard the Queen Victoria to move between exotic African ports and had disembarked before the Cassadines boarded.

The story was all well and good, but still she felt unsettled. She thought she should feel embarrassed about her loss of control over her emotions during her explanation of Lucky's death, but truth be known, she felt more than a little relieved. It was the first time she'd allowed herself to be completely emotionally honest. With her family and friends, even with Emily who'd been so supportive, she'd always held back, and in keeping her grief private, she denied its power and the pain had festered in her heart.

Everyone expected her to be strong, capable of moving past her grief and getting on with her life. Yet when she'd told Mr. Morgan, he'd listened without expectation or judgment, and when he'd simply pulled her into his arms to let her cry, she'd let her grief wash away in a tide of tears. Now instead of feeling embarrassment, she felt strangely liberated.

Still more unsettling had been his reaction when she asked him why he was helping her. That brooding glare he leveled at her had swum with emotion, more than could be explained by his simple answer. What thoughts and motives had she seen flickering behind those icy blue eyes? And would she ever know or simply be left to wonder?

However, the most unsettling event had been her primal reaction to him when she'd entered the vale. She had been seized by a lust so strong it shocked her. Never had her breasts tingled at the mere thought of a touch, or her body heated in so many private places because of a simple look. Oh to be sure, he was an amazingly handsome man, who oozed masculinity, but she was a lady and as such she should be above such primitive emotions.

She would have to be more careful, she decided, and not let base instincts get the better of her. After all, he was a pirate. She knew better than to let herself get weak-kneed for such a man.

These thoughts kept her mind busy all the way back to Hartwood Manor, and were still rattling around her brain even as she handed Treasure Box over to Michael.

Ignoring her surroundings, she entered the house and swept her riding hat off as she crossed the entryway. She was so preoccupied she almost missed her Gram's call from the sitting room.

"Elizabeth."

Elizabeth felt her stomach sink. Now she supposed, it was time for that lecture. Sighing, she turned, and stiffening her spine, determined not to let herself be cowed.

However, instead of a disapproving frown on her Gram's face, a broad smile greeted her. Thrown off by this unexpected welcome, Elizabeth stepped into the sitting room, meaning to cross to her Gram and bestow a kiss on her cheek, but instead she stopped in her tracks as the room's other occupant rose to greet her.

Prince Nikolas Cassadine smiled at her and Elizabeth's stomach soured. Her smile turned wooden and as her eyes darted back to Gram, she saw that the older woman sat primly in her chair, smiling like a cat who ate the canary.

"Elizabeth dear, Prince Nikolas has been gracious enough to accept my invitation to dine with us this evening. Why don't you run upstairs and make yourself presentable."

Nikolas crossed to her, clasped her hand in his, and raised it to his lips, pausing to look at her with dark dancing eyes before he kissed it. "Now Lady Hardy, surely you jest. Miss Webber is perfect just the way she is."

Elizabeth could barely keep the distaste from her expression, but she latched onto the temporary reprieve her Gram had offered.

"Surely, you jest Prince Nikolas." She pulled her hand from his. "I must look quite a fright after my ride. I'll not be gone overlong."

Then she backed out of the parlor and practically ran up the stairs to her room. Shutting the door behind her, she raised a hand to her forehead and groaned. Tonight would be insufferable.

However, as she stood lamenting her fate, she slid her hand across her cheek, and remembered how another hand had caressed her cheek earlier. A hand that belonged to a pirate whose pale blue eyes had looked at her with such tenderness that her heart had melted.

Then Elizabeth groaned again and stamping her foot, she cursed herself and the predicament she'd gotten herself into.

It was almost lunchtime before Elizabeth made her way downstairs. After last night's late night rendezvous, she hadn't been in the mood to awaken when the cock crowed the sun's arrival. She had heard the stirrings of her maid Alice, but had rolled over and ignored the woman until Alice had taken the hint and left her to sleep.

Now, awake, dressed, and ready for the day, Elizabeth looked for her Gram in the sitting room where she normally spent her morning retreat. Elizabeth's stomach rumbled noisily, reminding her that she had missed breakfast. However, despite being slightly chagrined for sleeping so late and hungry to boot, she wouldn't have changed anything that had happened last evening.

Going to see Mr. Morgan hadn't been her plan when she'd left the house, but she was glad she had. He had made her feel better. After Nikolas' unwanted advances and her Gram's irritating encouragement, talking out her frustrations to Mr. Morgan had been what she'd needed. A strange tightness constricted her chest and a giddy smile played over her lips. He had such a hard, imposing physical presence, who would have suspected that underneath such untamed maleness, beat such a soft heart?

A blush stained Elizabeth's cheeks as she entered Gram's sitting room. Then she realized she was still smiling like a schoolgirl and quickly composed her features into a bland, unemotional expression, least Gram think her good mood were due to Prince Nikolas' visit.

Gram, sitting by the window working on her needlework, looked at Elizabeth over the rims of her glasses and gave her granddaughter a disapproving frown.

"Well, I see you've finally decided to grace us with your presence this morning." The frosty tone in her Gram's voice made Elizabeth bristle.

If her Gram was going to be disagreeable, which Elizabeth guessed had more to do with her less than friendly reception of Nikolas than her late awakening this morning, then so be it. She wasn't going to let Gram ruin her mood.

"I was feeling a little under the weather this morning, but I'm doing much better now. Thank you for asking." Elizabeth sat stiffly on a chair and reached for a scone from the tea tray on the table.

Gram rolled her eyes. "You have a visitor."

Elizabeth's shoulders slumped. Not Nikolas again. She simply couldn't bear to deal with him this morning.

"It's not Prince Cassadine." Gram lifted her chin, giving her granddaughter an annoyed headshake. "Although I don't understand why you are so opposed…."

"Gram!" Elizabeth interrupted more harshly than she had intended. It seemed she couldn't bear her Gram's 'loving concern' this morning either. She fisted her hands in her lap and counted to ten in order to calm herself. "Is it Emily?"

"No." The older woman turned back to her needlework, ignoring Elizabeth's pointed stare while she drew the needle and thread through her fabric, making a neat little stitch. She pursed her lips and kept her eyes focused on her work. "A Mr. Morgan arrived asking to see you. Most irregular. He didn't have a card. How uncouth."

Elizabeth's heart leapt at the sound of the pirate's name and her mind spun with questions like a kite caught in a gale. Mr. Morgan? Why was he here? What had he said to Gram? Was this part of the plan? Or maybe some emergency had come up to call him away and he was stopping to tell her he was leaving. Her heart ached a little at that last thought.

Forcing herself to sound calm and casual, she tried her best not to look overly concerned. "When did he arrive?"

"Two hours ago."

"Two hours!" Elizabeth bolted off the couch. Two hours. Mr. Morgan had been waiting two hours. She couldn't believe her Gram would be capable of such rudeness. "Gram! Why didn't you send Alice to wake me?"

"Darling." Gram stared at her, a wide-eyed innocent look on her face. "You weren't feeling well. I didn't want to disturb you. Not for the likes of Mr. Morgan."

"The likes of Mr. Morgan?" Elizabeth couldn't believe her ears. Gram had already made a character judgment of Mr. Morgan and it wasn't a favorable one. She shook her head. "I can't believe you did this Gram. Where is he?"

"Honestly Elizabeth, the man is…" Gram paused, pushing her needle through her fabric, "coarse and not good enough to be considered a suitor. Really."

Elizabeth closed her eyes and tried counting to ten again. She only made it to five. "Where is he?"

Sighing like an unappreciated martyr, Gram lifted her eyes to her granddaughter. "The porch."

Biting her tongue to keep from saying something she would regret, Elizabeth took a deep breath. Then she turned and with all the sweetness she could muster, she smiled at her Gram and let honey drip from the edge in her voice. "Mr. Morgan is my friend. I would appreciate it if he's treated as such when he visits."

Turning on her heel, she strode briskly out of the room and down the hall to the front door. Not waiting for Reginald to do the honors, she burst through the front door and onto the porch.

Mr. Morgan was sitting in the shade on a bench to the right of the door. He had his elbows braced on his knees and his head rose at her arrival.

He was dressed in the finest tailored fashions in his standard black. This morning his hair was pulled into a queue tied at the nape of his neck and Elizabeth had a heartbeat of disappointment seeing that mane of wheat colored hair so thoroughly tamed. She blushed at the thought.

"Mr. Morgan." He stood at her greeting and bowed slightly at the waist and she found herself again flustered by his presence. "I'm so sorry to keep you waiting." Annoyance at her Gram chased some of her discomfort away. "I was just told you were waiting. I apologize for my Gram's less than civil treatment of you."

The pirate didn't immediately reply, instead he clasped his hands behind his back and walked toward her. She held his gaze, steeling herself to maintain eye contact as he moved closer. He kept moving forward, closing the space between them until he was almost on top of her, much closer than proper etiquette allowed.

His pale blue eyes searched hers. They were the eyes of a predator, hard and cold, and a shiver went down her spine, but she didn't relinquish an inch of ground. Then the corner of his mouth lifted into a grin, and the change in his gaze was startling. It was if a candle were suddenly lit inside them, they softened and brightened, and an appreciative tingle coursed through her.

"Will you ever call me Jason?"

She couldn't help it; she smiled, suddenly feeling quite smug. "Maybe."

For some reason, knowing she exasperated him, even a tiny bit, felt like a victory.

His head dipped and he retreated a step. Her smile widened at his small retreat, it felt very much like another small victory. Then finally letting her gaze wander, she cleared her throat and took a moment to gather her wits.

Elizabeth looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. "Why you are here?"

"We agreed I would pose as your suitor."

Elizabeth watched him carefully as he tilted his head to one side and regarded her with raised eyebrows.

"I thought we agreed to make this as realistic as possible to discourage Nikolas?"

Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest, feeling slightly uneasy about where this explanation was leading.

"I will be courting you as is proper for a woman of your station. I'm here to make my intentions as a suitor known to your family."

Elizabeth's mouth fell open. She wanted to make an argument against his stated intentions, but her brain refused to cooperate.

Mr. Morgan turned and offered her his elbow. "Shall we?"

He couldn't be serious. Declare this farce to her family? Elizabeth stared wide-eyed and then blinked at the resolve she saw in his eyes. He was serious.

"You don't have to go to this much trouble." Her excuse sounded weak even to her own ears.

Mr. Morgan didn't move. "I promised to help you dissuade Nikolas. Will he believe I am courting you if your Gram doesn't?"

Elizabeth couldn't think of any rebuttal to his argument, as his logic was, in fact, entirely correct. She'd gone to meet him at the pond yesterday to convince him of the necessity of their courtship appearing real, so why was she so unnerved by his willingness to follow her suggestion. Maybe because this was affecting her in ways she'd never expected when she'd first pounced upon the idea.

Maybe it was because she felt like she'd lost control of the situation and didn't have the slightest idea of how to regain it.

Elizabeth did the only thing she could. She slid her hand into the crook of the pirate's arm and let him lead her inside so he could announce their courtship to her Gram.

~*~*~*~*~

Helena Cassadine stood, body erect, her spine flat as a board, staring regally out of the front window over the carefully manicured lawn of their rented manor house. It was appalling, in her opinion, that she had to lower herself to reside in this tawdry English country estate. It was unworthy of her, of the Cassadines as a family; as Russian nobility, they deserved better.

Her eyes flicked around the room, taking in the conservative display of wealth and frowned. The English were not only tedious; they knew nothing of taste or elegance.

How unfortunate it was that Nikolas had become enamored with that English milkmaid, Helena deigned to call her a lady, as she was so completely unworthy of him. Oh, she couldn't deny the girl possessed a modicum of looks, but she was far from a true beauty and leagues from being a worthy match for her grandson.

Sighing with all the distain of a Queen enduring the ineptitude of a servant she couldn't dismiss, Helena pondered her possible avenues of recourse. It was unthinkable that Nikolas would marry the girl. She refused to let her beloved grandson waste his title and social position on such a poor match. A more fitting marriage could easily be arranged, one that would vault the Cassadines back into the circle of royalty.

Nikolas might be a prince without a country, but he was still a prince. She would not allow him to squander that for a lowly English maid. Not when dozens of eligible European Princesses were ripe for the taking.

However, she indulged her grandson in this affair of the heart because she loved him. This girl, Elizabeth Webber, had intrigued him, but Helena would see to it she would never be anything more than Nikolas' mistress. It was perfectly acceptable for royalty to keep a mistress or two. That was the way the game was played. Marry for position, title, wealth, or political alliance, and keep a lover who fulfilled every pleasure of your heart.

If Nikolas wanted Elizabeth as his concubine, so be it. Helena would do everything necessary to make her grandson happy.

The brisk clip of boots against the wood floor had Helena turning to meet the arrival. A smile of pleasure spread across her face when she saw Nikolas striding into the room.

"Grandmother." He nodded and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Nikolas, my darling. Are you ready to leave for the party? We don't want to arrive early."

Nikolas frowned at his grandmother, giving her a look of weary distain that made her proud. "Don't worry Grandmother, we will arrive fashionably late, as usual."

Running a hand down his jacket to smooth the fabric, Helena pinched her lips in a frown. "You know my darling, I'm willing to help you…" she paused to find the right word. "secure this tedious girl, if you wish it."

"I'm sure your help won't be necessary Grandmother." Nikolas' dark eyes settled on Helena. "Have you heard from Andreas?"

"Not yet, but it is still early. Don't worry, if there is anything to discover about this Mr. Morgan, Andreas will find it."

Nikolas nodded once and offered his Grandmother his arm. They turned to find Stefan in the doorway watching them.

Helena frowned at her disappointment of a second son. "Are you quite ready?"

Stefan took a step back as the pair passed and neither noticed nor cared about the dark frown he contemplated them with.

~*~*~*~*~

Lunch had been agony. Gram had made the meal miserable for everyone. She couldn't have shown her disapproval more pointedly if she'd stood on the table and bellowed it at them.

Yet, Gram's behavior only reinforced Elizabeth's resolve to carry through her plan. She wouldn't allow her Gram, no matter how well intentioned, to decide the course of her life.

So here she was at the Scorpio's garden party, positively bent on enjoying herself. Of course she'd decided long before she'd arrived that she wouldn't dance. Nikolas would surely be in attendance and if she danced even one dance with anyone, she wouldn't be able to courteously refuse him one as well. Then there was Mr. Morgan, who had made it perfectly plain during their meeting in Emily's guest bedroom that he did not dance, and with everything he was doing to help her, she refused to press him. If he didn't want to dance, she would respect his wishes.

She and Mr. Morgan had spent most of the evening either walking the garden or talking with her friends. She'd made the same excuse over and over to gentlemen wishing to escort her for a turn on the dance floor - she'd turned her ankle that afternoon in the garden and didn't want to aggravate the injury.

There had been a few tense moments when Nikolas had tried to insert himself into their conversation. Jason had glowered at him until he made excuses and left. Elizabeth was glad the incident had gone as well as it had and never strayed far from the pirate's side so as not to invite further undesired advances from the prince.

Mr. Morgan proved himself adept, if not a bit on the severe side, at maneuvering through the party. They'd even played a few hands of cards before Elizabeth made her excuses to leave.

On the way home, Gram sat in the carriage next to her radiating stark disapproval, but Elizabeth didn't care. She stared out of the small window where in the glow of the moonlight she could see Mr. Morgan riding beside them. He cut an impressive figure on his stallion and she found herself gazing most unladylike at the muscular cut of his thigh. Then realizing where her thoughts lingered, Elizabeth threw herself back in the seat, her face burning with mortification.

When they arrived at Hartwood Manor, it was all she could do to keep herself from running blindly into the house out of sheer embarrassment.

Mr. Morgan handed down Gram first and she stiffly accepted his hand as she descended the carriage steps, and then strode into the house without a word of thanks or a backward glance. Elizabeth took his offered hand and as he helped her down, she paused on the last step, tightening her fingers around his.

"Thank you for tonight. I had a most enjoyable time." Then before she could lose her nerve, she leaned toward him and whispered, "Tomorrow, tea time at the pond."

She didn't wait to hear his answer; she felt her face color and couldn't get into the house and the safety it provided fast enough. Stopping in the doorway, she turned and saw Mr. Morgan standing next to the carriage staring after her. Darkness shadowed his face, but she could feel his gaze on her as if it were a physical touch.

Heat bloomed in her veins, and she swiftly shut the door with trembling hands. Finding her heart lodged in her throat, she swallowed and tried vainly to reign in her emotions. It was something akin to trying to stuff the flower back into the seed from which it sprang.

Oh, yes, this arrangement was turning into something far more than she expected, and if Nikolas didn't give up his quest for her hand and leave soon, she didn't know how she was going to survive Mr. Morgan's attentive courting.

Or how she was going to survive when it came time for him to leave and return to his own life.

Jason Morgan was in a foul mood.

Yesterday's picnic with Elizabeth had only reaffirmed the fact that he needed to leave.

Soon.

He'd nearly kissed her and judging by the thoughts - and the feelings - that had arisen in his body, he doubted he would have stopped at a kiss. He'd lusted for her. His fingers itched to undress her and his body ached to satisfy its hunger deep inside her flesh.

He hadn't slept well last night and when he had dozed, she filled his dreams; her eyes dark with passion; her clothing melting at his touch; she was eager and met him with a hunger of her own.

A muscle in his cheek twitched as he clenched his jaw. He needed to leave. If he found himself in a similar situation with Elizabeth again, he didn't know if he could restrain his desires.

He eyed the bottle of rum on the cabinet and growled low in his throat. It was nine in the morning. Too early to begin numbing his frustrations with alcohol.

Besides, he needed his wits about him. He'd decided to have a conversation with Nikolas Cassadine. Friendly persuasion hadn't gotten through to the Prince, so it was time to become blunt.

Before the afternoon was over, Nikolas Cassadine would understand what it meant to cross Captain Morgan.

~*~*~*~

Emily linked her arm through Elizabeth's and drew her down the garden path leading her away from the house.

"So, tell me about yesterday." Emily leaned in, keeping her voice low even though they were well beyond the range of Gram's hearing.

"There's nothing to tell." Elizabeth said, trying very hard to sound unconcerned.

"Liar."

Elizabeth shot her friend an annoyed glance. Emily knew her too well. She didn't want to be pressed for details of an encounter she didn't want to discuss, much less even think about.

"How was your afternoon with Alexander?" Elizabeth countered in a blatant attempt to divert her friend's attention.

Emily's brows rose. "I won't be distracted that easily." Emily tugged Elizabeth to a stop and turned to look her in the eye. "You had a private picnic alone with a pirate and I won't be satisfied until I hear every glorious detail."

Emily's voice rose and Elizabeth shushed her before glancing back toward the house to see if Gram had overheard. Fortunately, Gram was still sitting in the shade of an arbor with her attention focused on her book. Elizabeth sighed before turning to glare at her friend.

"Nothing happened."

It was a bald face lie. Yesterday afternoon had been incredible, exciting, and terrifying all at the same time. She and Mr. Morgan had opened up a bit about their pasts when he'd taken her rowing out on the lake. It had been magical, the sweet memories of her childhood mingling with the romance of the moment. However it had turned terrifying when the boat sank and he rescued her from drowning. Then once back safely on the dock, she'd found herself standing dripping wet not half an arm's length from him, her body humming with adrenaline and arousal, and she'd nearly given into her desires and kissed him.

And as if that weren't embarrassing enough, he'd stripped off his wet shirt, sat and then ate lunch half-naked. He had seemed at ease in his shirtless state and from his tanned look, had regularly gone without half his clothing. However she'd been completely out-of-sorts and later that night his bare-chested image had fueled several erotic dreams of him holding her pressed against that bare chest and brushing kisses over her lips.

It had been a long and unsettling day and night, and she wasn't about to tell Emily one sliver of any of it.

A knowing smile crooked the corners of Emily's mouth upward, and she clucked her tongue as she pulled Elizabeth forward along the path.

"Emily Bowen Drake, what are you thinking?"

A wicked gleam stole into her friends' eyes. "I'm thinking something interesting must have happened for you to object so vehemently to answering a single one of my questions."

"Emily." Elizabeth's tone carried a heavy warning. "Nothing happened. We ate lunch and we talked."

"Did you thank him for helping you?" Emily eyes twinkled with innuendo.

"Emily!" She knew her friend was teasing, but the suggestion hit too close to the mark for comfort. She hadn't 'thanked' him the way Emily suggested, but she'd wanted to, and the reminder of how close she had come to throwing her virtue away wasn't pleasant. Besides, she knew of Mr. Morgan's intention to leave when his job was finished; so to form some kind of attachment to him would be inviting heartache. She intended to spare herself that pain.

Oblivious to Elizabeth's discomfort, Emily tossed her head, sending ringlets bouncing around her shoulders. "Fine. Be that way. I've half a mind to keep my exciting news to myself."

"Don't tell me then." Elizabeth started walking, dragging her friend down the path. Giving silent thanks for the change in topic. The last thing she wanted was to linger on thoughts of Jason Morgan. Whether completely clothed or not, the man tended to fluster her, and it was extremely annoying to have your wits scattered by a mere memory.

She could almost feel Emily's frustration snapping in the air and she nearly laughed. Emily couldn't refrain from sharing juicy gossip if her life depended on it. She only had to wait; it wouldn't take Emily long to spontaneously combust under the pressure of her own excitement.

Casting Emily a sidelong glance, she saw a huge grin on her friend's face and as their eyes met, Emily squealed.

"I can't stand it another instant." She grabbed both of Elizabeth's hands and twirled the two of them in a circle. "Patrick is home!"

Patrick Drake was Emily's older stepbrother and knight in shining armor. He was tall, handsome, funny - not to mention a doctor like his father - and Emily had idolized him since she was five and her mother had married his father. Patrick had been gone for a year, having volunteered his services as a doctor to the military.

Joy and relief flooded Elizabeth and she squealed along with Emily. Patrick had always been more of a brother to her than her real one, and knowing he was back from the wars, alive and well, was indeed fantastic news.

"Emily, that's wonderful!" Elizabeth pulled her friend into a hug. Then pushed her away and looked her square in the eyes. "Why on earth are you here when Patrick is home?"

"He arrived yesterday and I just couldn't not come and tell you." Then her smile widened. "Besides he went to pay a visit to Robin this morning."

Elizabeth's lips formed an 'o'. Patrick and Robin had always been close and everyone expected a formal announcement of their engagement, however, as of yet, none had been forthcoming.

"There's more." Emily pulled Elizabeth under a rose covered arbor and sat on the bench in its shade. "Father and mother are so excited they've decided to host a ball in honor of Patrick's heroic return."

A formal ball. Elizabeth sank onto the seat next to Emily, her hand reaching up to grasp Lucky's medallion. It was one thing to parade Mr. Morgan as her suitor to local country dances, it would be another thing entirely to bring a pirate to a formal ball. Elizabeth closed her eyes and hoped the ball would be sufficiently far enough in the future for her problem with Nikolas and Mr. Morgan to have resolved itself.

Emily practically bounced in her seat; she was bursting with so much enthusiasm. "It's going to be tomorrow evening."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Tomorrow?"

"Alice has the entire staff working nonstop getting the house ready. Patrick says she's tougher than the drill sergeants he met in the military. And cook is pulling her hair out and screeching at everyone in French. If this ball wasn't in Patrick's honor I think she would have walked out when father told her about it. Honestly, if I weren't so happy to see my brother, I'd be jealous of all the work everyone is doing in his honor."

Feeling queasy, Elizabeth leaned back against the bench. This was spiraling out of control. When she'd suggested this ruse to Mr. Morgan, she hadn't expected it would go on for weeks. She'd naively assumed Nikolas would find out she was attached to another man and leave after a day or two. Now here she was attending a ball with a pirate captain and presenting him to one and all as her intended.

Maybe tonight when she and Gram had dinner at the Cassadine's, she could convince Nikolas she wasn't the least bit interested in him. Maybe…

"You simply must come Elizabeth." Emily said, interrupting her thoughts. "It's going to be the most memorable event of the season."

~*~*~*~

Tossing a saddle over the back of his horse, Nikolas set to work strapping it tightly into place. The chestnut gelding was a good horse, although not nearly as spirited or fast as his own.

Nikolas needed a ride this afternoon. He was unaccustomedly nervous about dinner this evening. Never had a woman affected him so profoundly. Elizabeth was beautiful and intelligent, and there was something about her, something indefinable, that made her absolutely irresistible.

Not to mention that wooing a woman was a new and exhilarating experience for him. He'd never had any lack of women fawning over him and if he desired one, it was usually only a matter of a smile and the offering of his arm, and she was his. To have to pursue Elizabeth was strangely erotic, and the expectation of the fulfillment of his desires made each encounter ripe with possibility.

Which is why he needed to ride, to burn off some of his nervous energy. So he could be cool and calm with Elizabeth tonight. To sweep her off her feet and send her head and heart spinning, he must to be in complete control.

"Prince Nikolas."

He instantly recognized the voice and whipped around to find Jason Morgan standing just inside the door of the stables. The man ambled forward, his gaze sweeping the stables as if he were appraising it, judging its worth. Then he frowned, and shook his head. "It must be difficult for you to live in conditions so far beneath your standards."

Nikolas bristled under the man's mocking tone. "Alfred." He shouted. His personal butler had been waiting outside.

Jason folded his arms over his chest and leveled a cold gaze at the prince. "He won't be able to help you."

"What have you done to Alfred?" A flash of anger shot through him at the thought of his loyal servant being harmed.

"Nothing permanent." Jason settled his weight onto his heels and stole a sidelong glance toward the stable door as he rubbed his jaw.

Fisting his hands and not caring if he conducted himself in a princely manner, Nikolas strode forward until he was face to face with the taller man. "I warned you once about interfering in my plans."

Jason's eyes cut back to lock onto Nikolas's and for an instant that hard gaze sent a flicker of fear shuddering through the prince.

"I think we need a new understanding." Jason's words were as hard as his gaze. "I don't care what you want, or what you think you can do to me. I'm telling you, if you hurt Elizabeth in any way, I will kill you."

Then Nikolas's ego swelled and swept his fear away like so much chaff in the wind. How dare Morgan threaten him. He was a crown prince of Russia, no one dared speak to him in such a manner. It was unthinkable.

However before he could vent his outrage, Jason Morgan turned and walked out of the stables, leaving Nikolas stewing in his own indignation.

Storming out of the stables, Nikolas found Jason mounted and halfway to the gate leading to the main road. His strict princely upbringing prevented him from yelling across the grounds at the man's back, so he gritted his teeth, fisted his hands, and let his anger simmer.

A banging from the garden shed drew his attention and tearing his eyes from his nemesis, he strode to the small wooden structure. Removing a rake wedged through the door handles, he opened the door to reveal Alfred standing inside looking sheepish.

"I'm so sorry, Sir." Alfred mopped his brow with a handkerchief, then sadly shook his head. "I should have known better."

"Don't worry Alfred, it's not your fault." Nikolas watched the older man fidget and duck his head in embarrassment and his hatred of Jason Morgan grew.

He needed to take action.

Striding to the house, he flung his riding gloves onto a side table.

No one mistreated his servants and no one threatened him.

This had gone on far too long. He should have taken care of Morgan long ago. Turning, he stalked into the library. Helena had a fondness for the room, with its dark paneling, heavy furniture, thick drapes, and rows and rows of old dusty books. He hoped to find her there.

Throwing open the room's double doors, he stormed into his Grandmother's inner sanctum. She looked up from her reading and gave him an annoyed look.

"How uncouth. I'm disappointed." She turned the book over, and keeping it open to the page she was reading, laid it on the table.

"I don't have time for your disappointment Grandmother." Nikolas was in no mood for her manipulations. "Have you heard from Andreas?"

Helena smiled smugly at him. "As a matter of fact, I did get a letter from him this morning." She idly gestured at an envelope half covered by her book.

Nikolas bit back a nasty remark. She knew perfectly well he'd been waiting for that letter, yet she had chosen to wait, making him come to her for information. She loved control, loved having power. Even over her own adored grandson.

Yet he knew his anger would only give her incentive to draw this out. So he swallowed down his rage and frowned.

"What has he found concerning Jason Morgan?"

With deliberate slowness and dramatic flair, Helena slid the letter from beneath the book and broke its wax seal.

She held the single piece of parchment so he couldn't see the words written on it, leaned back in her chair, and took her time reading. Using her index finger as a pointer she dragged it along the words as she read, her only response to the information being a slight pursing of her lips.

Then, she carefully folded the paper and set it in her lap before meeting her grandson's gaze.

"Well?"

Helena's lips thinned as a sly smile spread across her face. Nikolas gritted his teeth. She was enjoying this.

"Nothing." She held the letter out for Nikolas to take.

Striding across the room, he snatched the paper from Helena's grasp and quickly unfolded it. He scanned the page reading the few brief lines, his eyebrows drawing together in frustration as the message sank in.

Andreas had scoured London, called in favors, paid off informants, turned over every rock, and found nothing. No one knew or was willing to admit knowledge of a Mr. Jason Morgan.

This wasn't the news he'd wanted. Especially since Mr. Morgan was making himself a decided problem.

Walking to the fireplace, Nikolas dipped the corner of the paper into the flame of a candle. As fire licked upwards along the paper, he absently dropped it into the fireplace. His eyes focused on the flames, but his thoughts were mired in the mental chess game he was playing with his rival.

He'd hoped to receive information he could use to blackmail Mr. Morgan into breaking off with Elizabeth Webber. Now he had no leverage against him. He would have to think of another way of dealing with Morgan.

Helena placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts. He hadn't heard her move. She could be quite unnerving when she wished to be.

"I have ways to get you what you desire."

Nikolas didn't doubt Helena could deliver what she promised. However, he wanted to win Elizabeth's heart fairly.

Turning, he met his grandmother's gaze with steel in his eyes. "I want her to choose me of her own free will."

Helena nodded. "As you wish darling, but remember…" A predatory smile turned her features hard. "I am here if you decide you need me."

~*~*~*~

Elizabeth gritted her teeth and forced a smile on her face.

The evening so far had been tedious. True, Nikolas was being the picture of a perfect gentleman. He had politely drawn her into conversation on a variety of subjects, all of which she supposed he thought would interest her, and his gaze had never once fallen to her cleavage.

She would have been charmed if she hadn't known him better.

But she knew he was putting on a show for her benefit. No doubt he thought she would swoon and fall under the spell of his charms and forget what a pompous jerk he really was.

The party was small. Earl Adam Chandler and his widowed daughter Lady Skye Alcazar had arrived before her and Gram. Magistrate Garrett Floyd had arrived alone. Jasper Jax had brought his close friend Duchess Alexis Davis, as his wife Chloe was too far along in her pregnancy to travel safely. So, including herself and Gram and the three Cassadines, Helena, Stefan and Nikolas, there were ten persons sharing the dinner table this evening.

She sat between Magistrate Floyd and Earl Chandler directly across the table from Nikolas. At the head of the table, to the Earl's left, Helena sat like a queen reigning over her court. With Earl Chandler to Helena's right and Duchess Alexis Davis to her left, the three of them were deep in a discussion of legal and moral societal standards and how they should or should not affect the nobility.

Elizabeth had kept her eyes on her plate as much as possible. However, Nikolas largely ignored the rest of the guests and kept drawing her into conversation. Gram, sitting to Nikolas's left, was more than happy to help him in his mission to hold her attention.

Once she'd tried to foil Nikolas's plan by starting a conversation with Magistrate Floyd, but he was far too engrossed with Skye to his right. Skye, whom Elizabeth hadn't met before, had her hands full with the magistrate, Jax, who was directly across from her, and Stefan to her right at the end of the table. Each of the three men gave her their nearly undivided attention and she handled their notice with ease and grace.

Which all in all, was wonderful for Skye, but the situation worked against Elizabeth. She spent the entire dinner listening to Helena, Adam and Alexis at one end of the table argue law and Stefan, Skye, Garrett, and Jax at the other flirt outrageously, which left her dealing with Nikolas and Gram alone. By the time dessert was finished she was exhausted.

Unfortunately, the evening wasn't over yet.

No, now it was time for socializing and she fervently hoped that the gathering would be deemed too small for dancing. The thought of spending the evening making excuses for not participating was more than she could bear.

After the last of the crème brûlée was finished and the dishes were removed, the men dismissed themselves to gather in the study for cigars and cognac, leaving the women to gather in the sitting room, to drink tea and gossip.

Elizabeth sat on the loveseat next to Gram, again painfully aware of how ill suited she was to the company. Everyone here was titled, wealthy and of great influence in the community. She, the country bumpkin of the bunch, was only here because Nikolas had designs on her and she felt the weight of the contrast.

Half-heartedly she considered feigning illness to leave early, but sighed as she resigned herself to the unavoidable. She had come here this evening determined to tell Nikolas she had not the faintest of romantic feelings for him and ask him to give up his aspirations to win her heart.

Then her life could return to normal.

However, that thought, which should have elated her, only seemed to weight down her heart. But really, she knew it was better this way. Mr. Morgan had made it perfectly clear he was not interested in her and would be leaving as soon as she was safe from Nikolas's advances. Better for her that it end sooner rather than later, when her heart might be even more deeply involved and wounded all the more.

Before she could rouse her spirits, the men entered the room. Filing in while chuckling among themselves, Stefan took the lead and suggested that since it was a fine evening they should take a stroll through the gardens.

Helena smiled, stamping her approval on the idea, and everyone quickly paired off. Stefan offered his hand to Skye. Adam Chandler offered for Helena. Garrett Floyd neatly bowed to Alexis and offered to accompany her. Jax gallantly requested Gram's delightful presence. Which again left her with Nikolas.

Nikolas smiled and bowed deeply, then took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Elizabeth stifled a shudder and stood as he placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and set his hand over hers. Plastering a smile on her face, she allowed him to lead her out of the room and follow everyone into the gardens.

The gardens were beautiful, full of a myriad of colorful flowers blooming in neatly sculpted beds. Fortunately, there wasn't a hedge maze, so the group stayed together, well in sight of each other. Elizabeth counted her blessings. She didn't want to find out what would happen if Nikolas could steal a private moment with her.

He, however, did slow his pace to put them several paces behind the group, which let him converse with her without the worry of being overheard. He kept the conversation light, speaking of the Russian nobility and life in their court. She only half listened to his stories, instead worked on bolstering her courage to tell him what she came here to say.

When he broke off to look at a grouping of daisies surrounding a small fountain of a child pouring water out of an urn, she drew up her resolve and seized the moment.

"Prince Cassadine. I should tell you…"

He lifted a finger to his lips and shushed her. Then pointing overhead, he drew her attention to a bluebird alighting on a branch.

"They are beautiful, are they not?" He smiled and she sensed he was used to his smile melting women's hearts.

"Yes, indeed they are, but I want to explain…"

"Do you sketch?"

"What?" Elizabeth's brows scrunched in confusion. She'd been so focused on what she was about to say, it took her a moment to focus on the question.

"Do you sketch?" Nikolas looked at her with keen interest.

"Yes, I do." Her concentration had been broken and even as she struggled to regain it, Nikolas led her away from the fountain and toward a rise to the left. He drew them farther away from the others, but no one seemed to notice.

Once again dominating the conversation, Nikolas gave her little opportunity to speak, much less wrest the discussion away from him. However, once they topped the small hill, he stopped talking and with a sweep of his arm, brought her attention to the sight before them.

The land gently sloped away from them and a meticulously planted and groomed garden opened before her. Flowers of every color and description bloomed in an intricately laid design of swirls and loops, which drew the eye to the centerpiece of the garden - a man made pond. The pond was blanketed with delicate floating waterlilies and vines of wisteria dripping with vibrant purple flowers clung to an arched bridge spanning the water.

The beauty of it took her breath away.

"This view makes me wish I could draw." Nikolas had moved a step closer and his voice was startlingly close to her ear. She drew away from him under the pretense of stepping toward the garden, and her hand went instinctively to the medallion on her necklace.

"It is beautiful." Despite everything, the artist in her was entranced and very much wanted to spend hours here committing this beauty to paper.

"You are welcome to come any time you like to sketch."

Setting her jaw, she turned to face Nikolas. She had to tell him now before this got any further out of hand.

His gaze was on her, gentle and kind, his black eyes nearly twinkling with delight. It unsettled her a bit; he looked too handsome and vulnerable. This would be easier if he remained the obnoxious jerk she knew him to be.

"Prince Cassadine, I don't think…"

"Nikolas." Stefan's voice trampled hers as the older man appeared on the crest of the hill with Skye on his arm. Skye was beaming at him with sparkle of attraction in her eyes. "Come. We are returning inside."

Nikolas bent forward in a half bow and offered his arm to Elizabeth. She wanted to refuse, scream in frustration, and stomp away. She'd missed a prime opportunity to quash Nikolas's advances and mentally berated herself for not pressing the issue.

Frowning as they made their way back toward the house, she could only hope she'd be presented with another opportunity to speak privately with Nikolas once they were inside.

~*~*~*~

Setting the half empty bottle on the table with a clunk, Jason held its neck with one hand as he lifted the shot glass in his other to his lips.

Rum, rich and strong, burned its way down his throat.

Scowling, he stared at the slip of parchment lying on the table before of him. He'd received Elizabeth's letter upon returning from a long ride, most of it ridden with Thor running at a full gallop. The ride had taken the edge off his frustration from his confrontation with the prince, but after he'd read the letter Johnny handed him, they had returned doubled.

Nikolas was playing dirty. Using Elizabeth's Grandmother as a means to secure her presence at a dinner party at his home. It was shameful behavior and far beneath someone who was supposed to be a prince.

Jason wanted nothing more than to ride to the manor house the Cassadine's were occupying and call the scoundrel out.

Yet…

His scowl deepened.

Jason had warned Nikolas of the consequences of hurting Elizabeth. It was no idle threat. He had no qualms dispatching vermin who abused women. They deserved no better. Yet, if it came to that, a part of him feared Elizabeth's reaction to learning what he'd done.

Elizabeth had accepted him for who he was, in his entirety, ignoble birth and all. She not only accepted him but trusted him as well. It was a precious gift, her friendship. To lose it, to have her learn that he'd killed a man and have her look at him with revulsion or fear in her eyes…

He squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to stop thinking about her. He needed to finish this, soon.

Pouring himself another shot of rum, he downed it in one swallow. The Drake ball tomorrow night would be the perfect opportunity to make it clear to Nikolas that he needed to leave Elizabeth alone. If subtle hints and outright threats didn't get through to the prince, Jason would have to find something that would.

Tomorrow night, he would end this. One way or another.

The muted tick of the clock on the mantle was the only sound and made the stillness seem that much deeper in comparison. Jason cast a glance at the clock, stood from the table and began to pace.

It was one in the morning. Three hours since he'd left Elizabeth at the Drake's party and now that the urgency of his passions had cooled, he was second-guessing himself. He'd left Elizabeth alone. He'd given her no warning, no explanation. What she must think of him. He scrubbed his face with his hands and tried not to think of her.

He was unused to feeling self-doubt and didn't like the unsettled discomfort that gripped him. As a ship's captain, he made decisions everyday, from mundane to life threatening, and he'd never before been plagued by such uncertainty.

But then, Elizabeth always managed to keep him off balance. Why should now be different?

Yet, as hard as he tried to convince himself he'd made the wrong choice in leaving, he knew he hadn't.

Slamming his fist against the table, he turned to the clock again, growling when the minute hand had only moved forward two minutes. Where was Johnny? Jason had sent him out two hours ago to either hire, purchase, or steal a horse and cart for their trip. Since he'd finished throwing all his belongings into his trunk over an hour ago, he was only waiting for Johnny's return to leave.

Someone pounded on the front door making the heavy wood rattle in its frame, each thud sending thunderous echoes through the room.

"Morgan!"

Jason recognized the voice. It was Patrick Drake.

His shoulders sank. This was what he'd wanted to avoid. He'd meant to get away clean before anyone found out he'd abandoned Elizabeth. Then he wouldn't have to listen to rebukes and criticisms from people who had no understanding of the situation. He also hadn't wanted to run the risk of someone talking him into staying. Not when the idea was so deliciously tempting.

"Morgan!" Patrick's pounding grew louder and more agitated. Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no way to avoid this.

Walking to the door, he calmly settled his mind into one line of thought. He was sorry. He'd been called away. There was nothing he could do. He opened the door, prepared for a brief yet reasonable conversation with Dr. Drake.

Patrick shoved the door open with his shoulder as he barreled into the room. Grabbing Jason by the shirt, Patrick forced him backward and pinned him against the wall.

"What did you do with her?" Anger dripped off every word and Patrick's eyes were dark with fury.

Jason floundered a moment in surprise, but before he could respond, Patrick drew him forward far enough to slam him back into the wall.

"If you harmed her, I will make sure you hang."

Jason had had enough. With a surge of brute force, he grabbed Patrick's wrists and pushed forward, using his hold as leverage he swung the younger man around and pinned him against the wall. Then Jason wedged his forearm against Patrick's throat and used his body weight to begin to choke him.

"If I harmed who?" His voice was calm but his eyes were lethally narrowed.

Patrick's face was turning red and his hands vainly pried at Jason's arm. "Elizabeth." He gasped. "Where is Elizabeth?"

Nothing Patrick could have said would have stunned Jason more. Elizabeth. Elizabeth was missing? Reeling, he stepped away from Patrick, leaving the doctor to rub his throat as he caught his breath.

"Elizabeth's missing?"

Patrick watched Jason warily, suspicion written on his face. "Yes. No one has seen her since you took her outside."

Jason blinked in disbelief. It couldn't be true. She'd been fine and less than fifty feet from the house when he'd left her. Nothing should have happened to her in the safety of the Drake's back terrace.

Shaking his head, Jason backed away from Patrick and ran a hand over his mouth. He'd left her alone. If something happened to her because he'd abandoned her, he'd never forgive himself.

"We walked to the garden to get some air." He lifted his eyes and looked squarely at Patrick. "Then I was called away. I told Elizabeth to return inside, then I went to the stable, gave a message to the stable boy to deliver to Elizabeth and left. Alone. Your stable hands will confirm that."

"They already have." Patrick growled, his heated glare not diminishing in the face of Jason's explanation. "Their failure to find Elizabeth to deliver your message is how we discovered she was missing. We searched the house and the grounds and have found no sign of her."

Patrick's words rolled heavily through Jason's head, yet he was having trouble believing them. Elizabeth was missing. No one had seen her since they'd gone outside… and something clicked. That wasn't true. Someone had seen them.

"Did you ask everyone at the party when they last saw Elizabeth?"

"Yes. No one had seen her since the waltz."

"Then someone lied. Someone did see us outside - Nikolas Cassadine." Jason straightened and his hands fisted at his sides. It made sense. Nikolas wanted Elizabeth. What better way to have her than to take her?

He was on the move then, yanking open his trunk and rummaging through the things he'd haphazardly tossed inside. Finding his bandoleer, he strapped it on over his shoulder.

"Nikolas Cassadine? The gentleman she didn't want to dance with?" Patrick's brows drew together.

Finding his brace of pistols wrapped neatly in linens, Jason pulled them out and began loading them. "Yes. He's been pursuing her for weeks. What did he say when you questioned him?"

Patrick stood for a moment, baffled a moment, then slowly shook his head. "I don't remember talking to him." Realization dawned on him and his eyes widened. "He wasn't there. None of the Cassadines were there."

Jason nodded as his suspicious were confirmed. Tucking his loaded pistols into place, he unrolled another piece of linen to reveal a large curved knife.

Patrick, just noticing what Jason was doing, pointed at the weapon. "What do you think you are you doing?"

Jason inspected the blade a moment before slamming it into its sheath at his waist. Then he shifted his hardened gaze to Patrick. "I'm going to get her back."

~*~*~*~

It took half an hour of hard riding to reach the manor house where the Cassadines were residing. They'd passed Johnny on the way, returning with a young stable boy driving a horse and cart toward the dower cottage. Johnny had immediately turned and followed them, leaving the stable boy and the cart to their own devices.

The manor house was dark, not usual for the middle of the night, but the sight of it, black as a tomb, unsettled Jason. It felt wrong.

Reining in Thor, he vaulted out of the saddle and was halfway up the porch steps before Patrick and Johnny's feet hit the ground.

"Jason!" Johnny bellowed, chasing his friend up the steps.

Jason had his pistols in hand and passed one to Johnny. "Nikolas kidnapped Elizabeth." It was all that needed saying. Johnny's jaw tightened and he nodded, falling into a rear guard position a few steps behind his captain.

Patrick stood back, watching the two of them in unmasked astonishment.

Jason assessed the front door a moment, then taking a step back, he tried to kick it open. The bottom of his boot impacted loudly against the solid English oak and the door rattled against its hinges and locks, but it didn't open.

Leveling his pistol at the lock, Jason started to squeeze the trigger, only stopping when Patrick put a hand on his arm. "Unless you have a canon, that won't work."

Growling, Jason turned to Johnny. Johnny lifted one eyebrow. "Any restrictions or precautions?"

"No." Jason said. "Just get me inside, now."

With a nod, Johnny tucked his pistol into his waistband at his lower back and with a quick glance around spotted a wooden trellis for a climbing rose at the corner of the house. Running to the trellis, he pried one of its boards free and came back with the two-foot length of wood in hand. Without hesitating he lifted it over his shoulder and swung it like a club at the front window, shattering it with the first blow.

Patrick leapt back, swearing loudly. Jason stepped forward as Johnny used his makeshift club to clear away the jagged bits of glass around the window frame.

Then shrugging off his jacket, Johnny laid it across the window frame and Jason braced his hand against the fabric and vaulted through the opening.

Jason's boots crunched on broken glass as he landed but he paid it no mind. He quickly scanned the room, picking out the dark shapes of furniture. Behind him he heard Johnny land and with his man at his back, he moved toward the door.

A third crunch alerted him to Patrick's entrance, a fact he noted only so that he didn't shoot the man by accident. Bringing his pistol up, he paused to nod at Johnny then together the two of them swung into the hall, covering both directions with practiced ease.

At the end of the hall, a small glow bobbled accompanied by the shuffle of slippered feet. Bracing his pistol at arm's length, Jason waited for the newcomer to present himself.

An elderly man carrying a single candle rounded the end of the hall and came to an abrupt halt when his circle of light revealed Captain Morgan with weapon raised and eyes blazing with fury.

"Oh." The man froze. His white hair mussed as if he'd just climbed out of bed.

Jason wasted no time. "Where is Nikolas Cassadine?"

The man, ever the proper English butler, pulled his spine straight, lifted his chin and spoke in a remarkable robust voice. "The Cassadines are gone. They returned from the party, demanded their belongings be packed as quickly as possible, then left. That was two hours ago. I have no idea of their current whereabouts."

Growling, Jason shoved his pistol in its holster. He should have known Nikolas would flee, the coward. Now the prince had a two-hour head start.

"Patrick." He abruptly rounded on the doctor, who was hanging back in the shadow of the doorway. "Go get the sheriff."

Johnny's head swung around to look at Jason in wide-eyed surprise. He started to object, but a murderous look from Jason shut him up.

Turning back to Patrick, he added. "Tell him everything, then bring him and every man he has available back here."

~*~*~*~

It was a bit early in the afternoon for cognac, but Nikolas needed it to sooth his frayed nerves. Ever since the ball last night he'd been on edge, expecting Morgan or the law to come banging on the door at any moment.

No doubt everyone knew Elizabeth was missing by now and they'd likely noticed his absence as well. The manor house they'd hired would be carefully picked over in a search for clues to his family's midnight flight.

He paced the room restlessly, retracing a path from the windows to the fireplace. He didn't like this. He wouldn't feel safe until they were back in Russia. There the law was on his side and no one could take Elizabeth from him.

Pausing at the windows to stare out at the English countryside, he absently swirled the pale amber liquid in his glass and took a sip.

He didn't particularly like what he'd done to Elizabeth, but he'd given her plenty of chances to meet him halfway. Then there had been Morgan. The man was completely unworthy and Nikolas had to protect her from the likes of him.

Yes, he was protecting her. He would make her understand he was only doing what was necessary for her well being. Someday she would thank him for saving her.

Stefan entered the sitting room and Nikolas turned long enough to catch the older man's glower before turning back to the window.

"Uncle. I see you still disapprove."

"You know I do." Stefan stood stiffly in the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back. "I love you as if you're my own son, Nikolas but I raised you better than this. I taught you what it means to treat women with respect." His frown deepened but his voice remained eerily calm. "I wanted to inform you that I will be placing my own guard on Elizabeth to make sure you don't force yourself upon her."

Nikolas whirled around his face livid with anger. "How dare you suggest such a thing. You know me better."

Stefan didn't flinch in the face of Nikolas's ire. He merely lifted an eyebrow. "I never thought you'd stoop to kidnapping a lady to satisfy a whim."

"It isn't a whim." Despite having convinced himself that what he'd done was right, the Prince chafed under his uncle's rebuke. His plan had made sense at the party when he'd seen Morgan kissing Elizabeth. He'd had to save her, but now in the light of day, his motives felt less altruistic. "All I want is a chance to spend time with her without interruption."

He pressed the heel of his hand into his temple. This was quickly becoming much more trouble than he'd planned.

"Do you think Helena has made it to London?" That'd been Stefan's suggestion. To split up, sending carriages in two different directions to confuse those who would try to follow. Then once in London, Helena would provide a distraction for any sent to inquire about Elizabeth's disappearance.

Nikolas was glad his Grandmother was in London and not here with them. Helena could be intimidating when it suited her purposes and he didn't want her scaring Elizabeth any more than she already had been.

Elizabeth. Nikolas sighed and took another swallow of his cognac. When Mrs. Landsbury last checked she had still been asleep. The laudanum he'd put in her drink should have worn off by now. Maybe that was much of what was troubling him. Once Elizabeth awoke and was well, he'd feel better.

Yes, that was it, once he knew Elizabeth was fine he'd be able to relax.

~*~*~*~

Everything felt strange, like she was trying to move through a sea of thick porridge. Light glowed through her eyelids, but when she tried to open them, they refused to cooperate.

A flutter of fear stirred in Elizabeth's stomach. What was wrong with her? She tried to think, to remember, but in her fog-addled brain, nothing made sense.

Forcing her eyes open, she blinked several times before she focused and found herself staring at the canopy of an unfamiliar bed. The fear stirred in her stomach solidified into a cold hard lump. Where was she?

Sitting up made her head spin, and she closed her eyes and braced herself until the room stopped moving. Then carefully peeking out and looking around, she saw nothing familiar. Even the pale pink silk nightgown she was wearing wasn't one she'd ever seen before.

Panic bloomed sending a surge of adrenaline through her and she climbed out of bed on wobbly legs. Staggering to the window, she threw open the curtain and clutching at the sill, stared outside, hoping… praying… to see something she recognized.

Nothing was familiar. Not the house, the grounds, or the surrounding countryside. Instead of the rolling countryside surrounding Oxford, the land stretched flat as far as she could see. She didn't understand. Where was she?

Beating a fist against her forehead she tried to remember what had happened to her. She had been at the party at the Drake's. She'd played cards, danced, waltzed with Mr. Morgan, and then gone out into the gardens. Then, she paled… Nikolas Cassadine.

He was the last thing she remembered. Him and a glass of wine.

As the truth dawned on her, her weakened legs gave way. Collapsing to the floor, she covered her mouth with a trembling hand. Nikolas had drugged and kidnapped her.

Tears brimmed in her eyes, flowing over her lashes, hanging like shimmering crystal beads before dropping and rolling down her cheeks.

She closed her eyes and hugged her knees to her chest. She had no idea how long she'd been unconscious, but surely by now someone knew she was missing. They'd be searching for her. Mr. Morgan would be looking for her. A faint feeling of hope stirred in her heart. He'd found her once without even knowing her name; he would find her now. She didn't doubt it for an instant.

She only had to bide her time, and maybe, if she were clever, she could also find a way to foil Nikolas's plans.

~*~*~*~

Mrs. Beatrice Landsbury was a sturdy woman well into middle age. Mr. Landsbury had passed on two years after their marriage in a mine collapse. Finding herself without the love of her life and in need of supporting herself, she had begun applying for housekeeping positions.

Which is how she came under the employ of the Cassadines. Sir Stefan, having found himself raising his very young nephew alone, hired her during her first interview. Thereafter, she was Nikolas's nanny.

As a child he'd been precocious and highly curious, and she loved him like the child she'd never had. Once Nikolas grew old enough to no longer need a nanny, she'd assumed the duties of Head Housekeeper. Over the years her role and influence expanded until she'd come to be in charge of almost all aspects of the household.

However, Nikolas was always the apple of her eye. She'd taken pride as he'd grown into a handsome, witty and intelligent man, and never had she thought he could do anything to make her disappointed with him.

She'd been wrong.

Carrying a silver tray of a lunch consisting of soup, bread and tea covered with a large silver dome, she tramped down the hallway muttering under her breath.

She'd never believed in her wildest imaginings that Prince Nikolas would kidnap a lady. She abhorred the thought, hating the travesty he'd inflicted on that poor girl. Nikolas! Of all people. Helena had obviously had far too much influence over him.

Mrs. Landsbury frowned. Helena Cassadine made her nervous. The woman was evil, through and through. Mrs. Landsury had always hoped that Nikolas would be above Helene's machinations and that Stefan's rearing would win out, but now it seemed her hopes had been in vain.

The realization made her heart ache.

At least Stefan had assured her he would find a way to help the girl and Mrs. Landsbury had agreed to do whatever she could to assist him.

Mr. Tibbs, Stefan's personal groom, was stationed outside the girl's door. He, Albert, and Mr. Waynewright, Stefan's butler, took turns standing guard outside Miss Webber's room. Her heart twisted at seeing him because she knew he was here to protect Miss Webber from Nikolas.

Mrs. Landsbury stopped and gave him nod. "I've brought a light lunch. She's sure to be hungry after sleeping for so long."

Mr. Tibbs nodded in return. "I haven't heard a peep inside all morning."

"Thank you Mr. Tibbs." Mrs. Landsbury watched as he turned the knob, opening the door to let her into the room.

Mr. Tibbs had not so much as pulled the door closed when he heard a crash of falling platters, bowls and silverware - noises all overshadowed by Mrs. Landsbury's blood curdling shriek.

Then Mrs. Landsbury burst from the room, and hefting her skirts, she ran down the hall as fast as the matronly woman could carry herself.

Audrey had been inconsolable. Patrick had gone to see her first after Sheriff Scorpio had released him, but all his reassurances to her that Elizabeth would be found hadn't eased her worry. Learning that Nikolas was the primary suspect in her granddaughter's disappearance had only compounded her grief with guilt, since she had done her best to promote a match between the two.

Reining his mount in as he reached the front entrance of Brookhaven, Patrick put Audrey Hardy out of his mind. At the moment he had a more pressing problem. Specifically one named 'Jason Morgan.'

Flinging himself off his horse, he took the front steps of his house two at a time. Without bothering with niceties or decorum, he yanked open the front door, and as soon as he was inside, yelled for his stepsister. If there were anyone who would know what was going on between Jason Morgan and Elizabeth, it would be her.

"Emily!"

A clatter of dishes from the breakfast room told him his sister's whereabouts and he turned his stride in that direction.

Emily beat him to the door, flying through the opening and nearly bowling him over in her hurry to meet him.

"Did you find Elizabeth?" Emily frantically searched his face with puffy and red rimmed eyes. Behind her, Robin and his step-mother Paige appeared, both looking as if they had been crying as well.

Inwardly, Patrick cringed. He had no encouraging news to ease their concern. In fact, the news he had would only deepen their worry.

Apparently his expression belied his discouraging news, because all three women seemed to wilt under his gaze and Robin raised a hand to her mouth as fresh tears welled in her eyes. Those tears finally gave him voice; he thought it kinder to tell them the truth than let their fears conjure worse ideas.

So he explained everything from the beginning. His confronting Jason. Realizing Nikolas Cassadine was a suspect. Traveling to Torrington Estate to find the Cassadines gone. Being questioned by Sheriff Scorpio. Visiting Audrey Hardy to update her, then staying the night at Hartwood Manor in his capacity as a doctor when the news proved too much of a shock for her, causing her to faint and be confined to bed.

Then Patrick turned to Emily. She'd insisted from the beginning that Mr. Morgan would never harm Elizabeth. In fact, she'd been unshakeable in her belief. Now he needed to know why she'd been so sure. He needed to know what she knew about Jason Morgan the rest of them didn't. He needed to know who he was trusting with Elizabeth's life.

"Emily, you need to tell me everything you know about Mr. Jason Morgan."

~*~*~*~

The day was beautiful.

The sun shone brightly in a cloudless blue sky. Birds were chirping gaily, bees and butterflies were flitting among the gently bobbing heads of blooming flowers, and Stefan grimaced at it all.

Pacing the garden paths, he dismissed the beauty around him as carelessly as discarding used bathwater. Nikolas was in trouble and Stefan was in a quandary over how best to help him.

It would be easy to order him to return Elizabeth to her home. Easy, yes. Effective, no. Stefan was not in a position to give Nikolas orders. Yes, he was Nikolas's uncle and the man who'd single-handedly raised him from a small child, but Nikolas was the crown prince. He took orders from no man.

Then there was the fact that he couldn't risk alienating his nephew.

Stefan loved Nikolas as if he were his own son. He'd gladly taken on the job of raising him after his brother Stavros died. Helena hadn't shown a sliver of interest in the boy despite the fact that he was the only child and heir of her favorite son. It was only after Nikolas reached his majority had Helena reappeared and begun insinuating herself into his life.

Stefan had seen first hand what Helena's perverted kind of love could do to a person. He'd watched Stavros grow corrupt under her nurturing. Stavros had been Helena's first born, her pride and joy. She'd indulged his every whim, even when his desire had fallen upon a particularly beautiful daughter of a wealthy boyar. Helena had procured her for him without a second thought. It hadn't mattered that the girl was opposed to a match with Stavros. Stavros got what Stavros wanted. And so Lasha had become his bride.

Stefan had it all watched with a heavy heart. He'd seen Stavros' cruelty and Lasha's grief, and had been unable to do anything to help her. As time passed, she sank further and further into depression. Soon she was with child. Yet, Nikolas' birth only seemed to deepen Lasha's despair and soon after she threw herself from a castle turret to end her suffering.

Stavros had not grieved his bride and Stefan had never forgiven him his callousness. It was less than a year later that Stavros had been showing off his riding skills while drinking with a group of young boyars and was thrown from his horse. Stefan had always thought it fitting that Stavros's death was a result of his own pride.

Helena had gone into mourning when Stavros died. Stefan had thrown himself into raising his nephew. He'd done his best to bring Nikolas up to be a fair, respectful and decent man, everything his father hadn't been. However, in the years since Helena had reappeared, Stefan had had to constantly fight her attempts to twist Nikolas into her own image.

She was the reason he couldn't afford to be cut out of Nikolas's life. He couldn't leave Nikolas under the complete and unhindered sway of Helena.

Stefan fisted his hands at his side as he stared blankly into the distance. He had no doubts that Helena's influence was behind Elizabeth's kidnapping.

She was doing everything in her power to turn Nikolas into Stavros.

This time, however, Stefan was in a position to stop her.

Turning to look back toward the house, Stefan vowed to do whatever it took to protect Nikolas from Helena, even it meant killing his mother with his bare hands.

~*~*~*~*~

Elizabeth hadn't slept well.

She'd made it back from her secret mission to the barn undiscovered but the adrenaline pumping through her system had kept her awake. Even after she had calmed down, she was far too nervous to relax. Every bump and creak she heard made her jump as she half expected the noise to be Nikolas sneaking into her room.

When she finally dozed off, her sleep was fitful and filled with unpleasant dreams of dark shapeless things chasing her. So when the morning dawned, she was still physically and mentally drained and her 'act' of feeling ill was more real than farce.

For brunch, Mrs. Landsbury had brought a tray of soup, sandwiches and tea, but Elizabeth hadn't the appetite to face it yet.

Wandering to the window, she settled into a seat and gazed out at the long graveled road leading away from the house, vainly hoping to see an imposing fair-haired man galloping up that road on his sleek black horse coming to bring her home. Then she chuckled. Jason was no knight in shining armor riding to her rescue and she was no fair princess stuck at the top of a tower.

But he was coming for her. She had no doubts.

Jason.

When had she started thinking of him as Jason instead of Mr. Morgan? When had he turned from feared pirate captain to close friend? When he'd saved her from drowning? When they'd danced? When they'd kissed?

Elizabeth's head drooped forward and she nervously twisted and untwisted the corner of a throw pillow. She'd tried so hard to keep herself aloof, to keep her emotions out of it. The simple act of calling him Mr. Morgan wasn't just because it was the polite thing to do. No, it was her way of keeping herself safe, of keeping him out of her heart. Even when he'd asked her to call him Jason, she wouldn't, because even then she knew - she was already falling.

How foolish of her to think she could control love. More's the pity, since she knew he felt no similar gentle emotion for her.

Although when they'd kissed, there had been a moment she'd thought a spark had ignited between them, but when he'd pulled away, he'd been detached, quite unmoved by any emotion for her. It had been very lowering to have been stirred to such passion only to discover it was completely unrequited.

Standing abruptly, she began pacing the room. She hadn't thought about their kiss since that night. Blushing furiously, she remembered that she was the one who'd turned his innocent kiss into something more. She was the one who'd behaved most improperly.

This was ridiculous. She had more serious things to worry about than a kiss bestowed on a man who would soon be out of her life forever. Plopping onto the edge of the bed, she looked over the tray of food and her eye caught on the small triangles of watercress tea sandwiches.

Tears welled in her eyes even as a smile curved her lips. She'd served Jason watercress sandwiches during their first picnic at the pond. He'd taken a sandwich, eaten it whole, and openly dared her to do the same. She hadn't. She'd carefully cut her sandwich and eaten it with all the delicacy of manners that she'd been raised to respect and emulate.

As she stared at the sandwich on her tray, a revelation made her grimace.

She was a coward.

She couldn't bring herself to do something as simple as eat a tea sandwich whole. Yet her cowardice went far beyond that. Instead of simply telling Nikolas she wasn't interested in him, she'd involving someone else to solve her problem for her.

Tears broke over her lashes and spilled down her cheeks. This was her fault. Every bit of it. If she'd simply been honest with Nikolas from the beginning, she would be safe at home with her Gram.

It was time she stopped being a coward. Squaring her shoulders, Elizabeth reached out and picked up a watercress sandwich. Her hand trembled as she studied the savory little treat, then she folded it in half and stuffed the entire thing in her mouth.

A bubble of laughter burst from her and she instinctively lifted a hand to cover her mouth. Her little bit of rebellion was insignificant, really, but for some reason it felt strangely empowering.

And then just as easily, she made another decision. What she was afraid to do before, she would do now. Leaning forward, she reached out and tugged on the velvet cord that would summon Mrs. Landsbury.

She needed to face Nikolas.

~*~*~*~*~

What a waste of a morning.

Dismounting Thor, Jason set to work stripping the horse of its saddle. He'd gotten an early start, heading into town to begin his own investigation of Elizabeth's kidnapping.

He had talked to various gatekeepers, tavern owners and stable hands along the main roads into town asking them if they'd seen any suspicious carriages leaving two nights ago. However, since Oxford was a busy university town, there had been many carriages traveling that evening. So his questions were to no avail.

He hoped Johnny had better luck tapping into the local gossip network. Servants were uniquely privy to the intimate details of their employer's lives and many loved to spread the latest juicy bit of news amongst themselves. Maybe Johnny would uncover an important tidbit of information circulating about the Cassadines.

Having removed Thor's saddle, Jason handed the horse over to the stable boy for brushing and feeding.

His mind only half in the present moment, he strode out of the stable and across the yard. The situation was intolerable. Two days had passed since Elizabeth had been abducted and he was no nearer to finding her. The local sheriff was a bumbling fool, and despite the fact that he'd sent his crew a message yesterday, it would be at least another day, if not two, before they would arrive to help.

Nikolas could have her halfway across the continent by then.

Growling low in his throat, he balled his hands into fists. It didn't matter where Nikolas took Elizabeth. Jason wouldn't stop looking until he found her.

Rounding the corner of the house, Jason spied a small figure huddled in the shade on the porch.

His heart leapt into his throat and without stopping to think, he rushed forward. Swinging around the railing, he had Elizabeth's name poised on his lips, only to find a redheaded boy crouched in the furthest corner of the porch.

Disappointment tasted bitter in his mouth and he pressed his lips together as he berated himself for leaping to foolish conclusions. He had seen what he'd wanted to see.

The boy squinted at him as if sizing him up and for some reason; the boy's bald-faced assessment annoyed him.

Jason frowned at him. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"I be lookin' for a Mr. Jason Morgan." The kid stood and casually brushed off the seat of his pants. Jason could see a spattering of reddish freckles across his nose. "You be him?"

The thundering clatter of horse's hooves drew Jason's attention as Johnny galloped into the courtyard. At seeing Jason with a stranger, his second-in-command reined his horse around and approached the porch.

The boy retreated a step as Johnny drew near and his gaze slid warily between the two men. Jason waved Johnny to a stop. Johnny dismounted, lashed his mount to a hitching post and joined Jason.

Nodding at the boy, Jason crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm Jason Morgan."

The boy's eyes latched on Jason as if looking for some sort of confirmation to that claim. Whatever it was, he found it, because after a moment he nodded his head. "I got a message for you."

This made Jason take notice. There were precious few people who knew he was staying at this house and of those, only one or two who would send him a message through such an unusual method of delivery.

"Let's hear it, then."

"You think I'm daft?" The boy seemed highly offended. "I'z promised two gold sovereigns wot to deliver a message to you."

Jason lifted an eyebrow. That was more than this boy and his entire family would make in a year. A steep price for such a simple task. Nevertheless, Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out a small drawstring bag. Tugging it open, he pulled out two gold coins. The boy's eyes widened at the sight of them glittering in the sun.

The boy reached out for the money, but Jason pulled the coins out of his reach. "Message first."

Grudgingly, the boy broke eye contact with his golden prize and met Jason's gaze. His words tumbled out in a cascade of juvenile excitement. "Miss Elizabeth Webber says to tell you Nikolas Cassadine kidnapped 'er and that I can take you to Whitleaf Manor where she is."

Then he reached for the coins and again Jason pulled them away. A frown filled with indignation twisted the boy's face and Jason half expected to hear shouts of "Not fair!", but Jason's warning glare silenced any objection the boy may have made.

"How do I know you are telling the truth?"

It was a perfectly legitimate question. Jason had never seen this boy before; for all he knew; Nikolas had sent him with a story that was nothing more than a web of lies meant to lead him off on a wild goose chase, or worse, into an ambush meant to kill him.

The boy however, took no offense. In fact, his face brightened at the question.

"Oh aye, dat's easy." The boy's freckled nose squinched up and he waved his hand in dismissal. "She tole me wha' to tell you to make you believe me." Then he got as serious as if he were passing along a state secret.

"The ring for the necklace."

Certainty flowed over Jason. There was no doubt in his mind that the boy was telling the truth. Only he and Elizabeth knew of her deal to ransom his signet ring for her stolen necklace.

He held out the two gold coins and caught the boy's wrist as he reached to snatch them from his fingers. Startled by the move, the boy's eyes lifted to his and at having his full attention, Jason narrowed his eyes at him.

"Take me to her."

A gray mist hung over the dew-dampened grass as Jason and Johnny rode silently onto the designated field of combat. Nikolas had chosen a remote location, far from the prying eyes of the town. Duels, although highly fashionable, were still very much illegal.

The rising sun thinned the mist around them and as they came upon a large tree, Jason caught sight of Nikolas.

The Prince was standing, his Uncle like a gargoyle beside him, and from the frown creasing the older man's face, Jason could tell he was not happy with the situation.

Jason saw Stefan's expression for what it was. Fear. Fear for his nephew. Stefan, it seemed, had the sense to recognize the threat Jason posed. Whereas Nikolas was oblivious, as if the idea that he could lose hadn't occurred to him at all.

Jason snorted. That cockiness was about to get him killed.

Nikolas turned to face the arrivals. Hands clasped behind his back, he glowered at Jason through half-lidded eyes. Jason reined Thor in and returned Nikolas's look in kind. Dismounting, he handed Thor's reins to Johnny and waited, not taking his eyes off of his opponent, while his friend staked both horses a dozen yards away.

A grin spread over Nikolas's face, smug and self-assured, but Jason didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. He stared unflinching, having discovered long ago that simple stony silence unnerved men more easily than all the overt threats and curses in the world.

The sun broke over the horizon and as the fog burned off Jason saw another man standing several paces behind Nikolas. Nikolas turned his head to the side and called for him. "Alfred."

Jason recognized him as the same older man he'd locked in a garden shed last week. The butler was carrying a long, elaborately carved wooden case. Stopping beside Nikolas, Alfred shifted the case so that he cradled it in both arms. Reaching over, Nikolas unlatched its brass locks and opened the case to reveal a pair of dueling epees and a pair of pistols nestled in red velvet.

Jason crossed to stand beside Nikolas. The epees were adorned with gold overlay and filigree carving on pommels that had been polished until they gleamed. The pistols were the finest quality, with gold embellishments along the barrel and rosewood grips that were oiled until they nearly glowed.

Most men would have been impressed by the wanton display. Jason saw a waste of money. The extra expense did nothing to make the weapon better or more efficient. It was only meant to impress.

Nikolas turned and tipped his head in impatience. According to dueling etiquette, Jason, as the party being challenged, had the choice of weapon.

As tempting as the pistols were for making this duel quick and efficient, Jason desired more satisfaction than that. This man had kidnapped and mistreated Elizabeth, and Jason was going to make him suffer.

Wrapping his hand around the pommel of an epee, he lifted it from the case and tested its heft and balance with a few sweeping strokes. It wasn't the heavy bladed cutlass he was accustomed to, but it would do.

"Rules?" There was no need for small talk, so Jason didn't waste time with any.

Nikolas turned to him, epee in hand. "No."

Jason nodded once. Perfect.

Both men moved into position and turned to face one another, bringing their weapons up, they gazed at each other, blades poised at their noses.

With a swift slash to the side, both brought their blades down, stepped back, and sinking into a fighting pose, they crossed their blades. Holding the pose, both men stared unflinchingly; swords engaged, each testing the strength of the other, as the tension between them grew taut. Then Nikolas made the first move, slashing forward in a blow Jason easily parried.

Hanging back and concentrating mainly on defense, Jason adjusted to the feel of the epee while learning the essentials of Nikolas's fighting style. As he'd guessed, Nikolas was an excellent swordsman, having been formally trained most likely by the best swordsmen in the land. However as good as he was, he wasn't brilliant, nor was he imaginative. His attacks and feints were all regurgitated, by-the-book techniques. Nikolas had never fought outside the realm of the fencing club, and certainly had never had to fight for his life against thugs in a back alley.

Which gave Jason the advantage.

So Jason let Nikolas push him back a few steps, all the while parrying his thrusts and lunges. After he'd given Nikolas enough time to become over-confident, Jason went on the offensive. Stepping to the right, he brought his blade slashing down toward Nikolas's unguarded left side. Mentally caught in the straight line back and forth movement of classical fencing, Nikolas barely twisted in time to block the blow.

Nikolas blinked as a mask of confusion passed over his face, but Jason didn't give him time to process his change in style. Driving Nikolas back, Jason rained blows on him from all sides, stepping first right then left, leaving the Prince scrambling to defend himself.

Then Nikolas retreated several steps, stood with his epee held on guard, breathing hard while Jason watched thoughts spin through his head. Giving him a moment to realize his err, Jason casually lowered his blade and began prowling around his opponent.

Nikolas turned to keep facing Jason. Coming to a stop, Jason raised his epee and pointed it at Nikolas. "Ready?"

The question was both an invitation and an insult and Nikolas reacted with exactly the kind of fury to which Jason was baiting him.

This time Nikolas's attack lacked the strictness of form with which he'd been fighting. He tried to adapt to Jason's combat fighting style, but lacked the flexibility of thought it required. So Jason found himself fending off awkward lunges and wide flung strikes.

Stepping forward as he parried Nikolas's blow, Jason flicked his wrist back to the right and brought the tip of his epee slashing across Nikolas's chest. The blade left a long gash angled from Nikolas's shoulder to the center of his chest.

Backing away with a grunt of pain, Nikolas looked down in amazement as blood oozed from the cut across his chest. Staring at Jason with disbelief morphing into rage, he ran forward, attacking Jason with mindless fury.

Instead of retreating as Nikolas hacked and slashed wildly at him, Jason pressed forward, and succeeded in catching Nikolas's blade and locking their swords. The duel became a contest of strength with both men straining to force the other's blade aside to strike a deathblow.

Jason had the height and weight advantage, but with a surge of pure hatred, Nikolas shoved Jason back and caught him across the outside of his bicep with a slash of his epee.

Leaping backward for better position, Nikolas lunged, meaning to run his sword through Jason's chest, but Jason shifted and with a flick of his wrist, caught Nikolas's blade and stripped it from his hand. The sword flew thirty feet before landing tip first in the soft ground. In that moment, as Nikolas watched his weapon fly away from him, Jason's fist connected solidly with Nikolas's jaw.

Nikolas staggered, dropped to one knee, and before he could recover, Jason pressed the point of his epee against Nikolas's chest above his heart. He didn't drive the blade through, he wanted Nikolas to fully realize he'd lost and give him time to contemplate his fate before Jason delivered it to him.

Jason watched Nikolas's eyes widened first in surprise, then fear. The prince fell onto the ground and slithered backwards in an effort to get away. Jason wasn't about to let him escape and with a lunge, he brought his blade across Nikolas's neck.

Nikolas's eyes bulged and he lifted his chin against the sharp press of steel against his skin. All it would take to slice his throat open was a flick of Jason's wrist.

"Hold!" The command in Stefan's voice made Jason pause.

Fully expecting the older man's wrath or a plea to spare his nephew, Jason was surprised when Stefan addressed Nikolas.

"Nikolas!"

Nikolas's eyes darted to his uncle. Without moving to interfere with the duel, Stefan approached the two men and glared down at his nephew. "Yield."

Nikolas snarled, but Stefan cut off any response he might have made with a growl of his own. "You are a crown prince of Russia. You have a duty to your country and your people; yet you are prepared to throw your life away for a woman who despises you. Elizabeth does not want you, nor will she ever love you, and I will not allow you to spit on hundreds of years of Cassadine legacy because of your arrogance. Now yield!"

Turning to face Jason, Nikolas's face had changed. Instead of the hatred and anger of moments before, Nikolas's eyes were full of humiliation and wounded pride.

"I yield. Name your terms."

However, as satisfying as it was to see Nikolas beaten and humbled, it wasn't enough. Elizabeth needed justice for what Nikolas had done to her.

Increasing the pressure of the blade against Nikolas's throat, Jason was rewarded as fear washed over Nikolas's face. "We've already agreed to our terms."

"Captain Morgan!"

Jason's head snapped around to stare in surprise at Stefan.

Stefan merely inclined his head. "Yes, I know who you are and I assure you if you kill my nephew, I'll have you strung up on a gallows before sunset." His voice hadn't risen or his tone hardened, but nonetheless Stefan's threat carried a weight that made Jason pause. Stefan's cold brown eyes met his. "Name your terms."

Grinding his teeth, Jason removed the blade from Nikolas's throat, yet kept it close enough to remain menacing. Nikolas, for his part, gaped openly at his Uncle and seemed to have no clue of the significance of his uncle's words.

Jason stood, his hand gripping the pommel of his blade tight enough to whiten his knuckles. As much as he wanted to know how Stefan had discovered his identity, he knew it didn't matter. The revelation proved how sharp the man was and an intelligent opponent should never be underestimated. Jason did not doubt that Stefan did indeed have arrangements in place to have him arrested if necessary.

Yet despite knowing who he was, Stefan had not stopped the duel, nor had he had Jason arrested outright. Even now he was not demanding that Jason release Nikolas without consequence. Jason could only assume that Stefan wanted his nephew to pay for his crimes, albeit with something less than his life.

And strangely, Jason found that he respected Stefan for it. So he directed his terms of Nikolas's surrender to Stefan. "Leave England. Never attempt to see or contact Elizabeth again."

"Is that all?" Stefan's composure didn't break.

"No." Jason turned his attention to Nikolas, bringing the tip of his epee under the prince's chin. "If I ever see you again, I will kill you, and so you won't forget, I'll leave you with a reminder."

Jason stepped back, and with a swing of his arm, brought his sword arcing down and across Nikolas's thigh just above the knee. Nikolas screamed as the blade sliced deep through muscle and sinew creating a gaping, but non-lethal wound that would leave him with a permanent limp.

Blood soaked Nikolas's breeches but before Stefan knelt to aid his nephew, he gave Jason a nod signaling that he agreed with the terms as delivered. Then he crouched, calling for Alfred to bring something to bind Nikolas's leg.

Taking several steps backward, Jason let the epee hang at his side and watched a moment as Stefan and Alfred worked to stop Nikolas's bleeding. Nikolas lay there, moaning in pain, seemingly unable to do anything to help himself.

And it still wasn't enough. Jason's jaw muscles clenched in frustration. He wasn't satisfied with Nikolas's punishment. Nikolas deserved worse.

Fingers tightening around the pommel of his epee, he spun and threw the weapon in a release of impotent rage.

Then turning his back on the Cassadines, he strode to where Johnny minded the horses.

"Your arm." Johnny reached toward Jason's blood soaked sleeve, but Jason was in no mood to deal with it at the moment.

"Later." He growled as he mounted Thor, and then without a backward glance, rode away.

~*~*~*~*~

It had been a long and sleepless night, and Elizabeth stared out of her window watching the sunrise with a sinking feeling of dread.

Dawn.

At this moment Jason was readying to face Nikolas in a duel over her honor. Her knees weakened and she slid down into a chair. This shouldn't be happening. Closing her eyes, she lifted a trembling hand to her mouth as a sob escaped her lips.

She'd wanted to sneak out last night and go to Jason. She wanted to tell him not to meet Nikolas, that her honor was not worth his life. However, the sheriff had posted men around the estate for her protection, and she hadn't gotten any further than the hallway outside her room before one of them was hovering over her, dutifully doing his job of keeping her safe.

Elizabeth's fingers curled tightly around the sash of her robe. She didn't even know where they were meeting. She couldn't stop them now if she tried.

But she had to find a way to escape. She had to go find Jason and see that he'd survived. She squeezed her hands into fists. He had to survive.

Swiping away the tears trailing down her cheeks, she set her jaw. She'd set this whole catastrophe in motion. The blame for whatever happened lay entirely on her shoulders. If Jason were killed… she closed her eyes, she couldn't think of that.

First, she had to find a way to slip away unnoticed.

After getting dressed, Elizabeth made her way down to the breakfast room where she paced, wrung her hands and watched the sun creep ever higher in the sky. Gram sat serenely in her overstuffed chair, trying her best to ignore Elizabeth's nervousness.

All Elizabeth could think about was the duel. Had it started? Was it over? Who was still alive and who was…

She sat in a chair and almost immediately stood again, crossing to the window and twining her fingers together in frustration.

A thousand 'what ifs' flooded her thoughts and she didn't think she could stand it another moment before she screamed. Then outside the window she saw Sheriff Scorpio ride up the driveway. He dismounted while several of the men who were posted around her house walked out to meet him.

They stood in a huddle deep in conversation and Elizabeth realized this was her chance. Whatever they were doing, changing shifts, updating each other on the events of the night, this was the moment she could sneak out without being seen.

"Gram." Elizabeth turned a smiling face to her Gram. "I'm going for a walk in the garden."

Gram looked up from her needlework and frowned at her granddaughter. Worry was clearly etched in her eyes, but she glanced out at the men congregated in her driveway, and took a fortifying breath. "I'll go with you."

"No." Elizabeth said abruptly, and then softened her tone. "I mean, I'd like to be alone for a little while to think."

"Of course dear." Gram nodded in understanding, giving Elizabeth a pang of guilt for lying to her.

However, that pang didn't alter her plans. She had to find Jason. Hurrying out of the room, she kept her pace quick but not so fast as to be suspicious. She waited until she was in the gardens where Gram couldn't see before she broke into a run. The guards wouldn't be distracted for long and she wanted to get away before she was seen.

She ran nearly all the way to the dowager cottage, slowing only occasionally to catch her breath before running again. Her mind was too full of frightful images of Jason with an ever changing variety of grievous wounds for her to take her time.

Reaching the cottage, she ran to the porch and was met by Johnny stepping through the door carrying a basin of red tinted water. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and blood stained his forearms and the front of his shirt.

Elizabeth gasped in horror. Jason was wounded and bleeding. Her worst nightmare had come true. Her hand flew to her mouth and fear sent icy fingers crawling up her spine. "Where is he?"

"Upstairs in his bedroom, but…"

That was all she needed to hear. She ducked around Johnny, shot through the door and headed for the stairs.

Johnny turned, juggling the basin so as not to spill it, and called after her. "Elizabeth wait."

But she didn't hear. Her mind was locked on one thought. Jason was wounded and she needed to get to him. Her visions became darker, Jason with a gunshot wound to the chest, lying alone in bed while slowly bleeding to death. Tears filled her eyes and as she reached the top landing, she was beyond thought. Running for the door that led to the main bedroom, she threw it open without pausing to knock.

What she saw stopped her in her tracks.

There was Jason, bare-chested, wearing only breeches and riding boots, standing in front of the full-length mirror. His right upper bicep was wrapped with a white bandage that had a thin line of blood soaking through it. He'd turned toward the door when she'd flung it open and seeing her, his eyes widened and a hint of a smile played across his mouth.

Seeing him alive and well, sent relief flooding through her and lifted a weight of worry off her shoulders that made her feel like she was floating off the floor. Then the tears came, tears of happiness, joy, relief, of emotions too long held bowstring tight that had suddenly become unstrung.

Words were lost under the rising tide of her emotions, so she didn't try to speak; she simply dashed across the room and flung herself in Jason's arms.

He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her and smoothing his cheek over her hair. Elizabeth melted into him, holding onto him as if life itself depended on it.

~*~*~*~*~

The slice Nikolas had delivered to his arm was deep enough to require stitches. A procedure Johnny performed after Jason doused both his injury and his stomach with a liberal dose of whiskey. He didn't drink enough to get drunk, but enough to take the edge off the pain that shot through his arm each time the needle bit into his flesh.

Johnny hadn't been gone two minutes when Jason heard someone running up the stairs. From the sound of the footfalls, it wasn't his second-in-command, so he moved to the mirror where his pistol was hanging in its holster.

He was reaching for it when the door flew open and revealed Elizabeth standing in the opening. Her face was strained with worry, her eyes wide with fear. When her gaze landed on him she visibly relaxed, her face radiating relief and for a moment she seemed blissfully happy. Then she burst into tears.

Without a word she darted toward him, and he opened his arms for her as she crashed into him. He pulled her close, running his cheek over her silk smooth hair. She smelled like honey and sunlight and as she buried her face in the crook of his neck and sobbed, he slid a hand up to cup the back of her head.

Then they just stood, holding each other, Jason letting Elizabeth cry as he ran a hand comfortingly up and down her back.

"You're alive." She whispered into his neck, and the bliss in her voice made Jason close his eyes and pull her tighter to him. He wanted to block everything out and simply live in this moment, feeling Elizabeth in his arms and sensing her emotions all the way to his bones. He drank in every facet of the moment. How the beat of her heart echoed through his chest. The warmth of her hands against his bare back. Her tears moistening his neck. The press of her body full length against his.

In this moment, the impossible was possible. In this moment she was his and he was hers, and it was everything he wanted yet knew he could never have.

Elizabeth lifted her head from his shoulder and leaning her forehead against his jaw, she slowly slid upwards, cheek sliding over cheek, noses touching, lips a scant breath apart until they were forehead to forehead.

"I was so afraid…" her voice was barely a whisper and caught with a gasp on her ragged emotions.

It was more than he could endure. She was in his arms, so close, needing him, needing comfort. His hand was already cupping the back of her head; all he had to do was urge her forward.

Jason leaned closer as he drew her to him and as their lips touched, he felt her shudder. When she rose on her toes to meet him, he lost his last shred of control.

Both of his hands moved to cup her face as he pulled her close and kissed her. His mouth moved over hers, taking and tasting as Elizabeth let her head fall back and returned his kiss with a fervor that heated his blood. Her tongue swept over his lower lip, making him groan with pleasure and he moved his hand to her lower back and pulled her more tightly against him. Then he plundered her mouth, his need making him bold as his tongue invaded her mouth, both giving and taking pleasure as he explored and conquered.

Elizabeth moaned as she arched into him, her hands splayed on his back. All he had to do was bend at the knees and he could lift her off her feet and carry her to the bed.

And yet even now he knew this was wrong. Yes, he wanted her. He ached for her, but he couldn't have her. Not now, not ever. If he took what he desired, Elizabeth would be ruined. Yet every last inch of him craved her. Not just for today. He wanted her with him always. Yet he couldn't have her. He didn't want to stop, but, if he didn't, he'd never forgive himself for irreparably destroying Elizabeth's life.

Sliding his hands to her shoulders, he meant to set her away from him, to break the contact between their bodies, but he couldn't, he was hard and throbbing and nearly blind with desire, wanting nothing more than to have her naked underneath him in bed. Still he managed to break their kiss and pull far enough away to rest his forehead on hers.

"Please tell me to stop." His voice was tight and husky and barely louder than a whisper.

He couldn't bring himself to look at her. It would be far too dangerous to see her stirred into passion from their kiss.

"Jason."

He inhaled at the sound of his name on her lips. It was the first time she'd called him by his name and sounding as it did, honeyed with desire, nearly broke him.

She captured his face with her hands and grazed her lips over his as she spoke. "Make love to me."

"Elizabeth, will you marry me?"

Elizabeth could only stare at Patrick in wide-eyed surprise. He'd asked her to marry him. It wasn't the response she'd expected and it took several heartbeats to get past the shock of the question.

Then the import of those words fully sank in.

She would be saved. Her reputation wouldn't be ruined. Her child would have the benefit of a name and a legitimate birth. She could stay here in Oxford with her family and friends. She and her baby would be safe, secure and accepted by society.

All she had to do was say 'yes' to Patrick and she could give her child every opportunity society offered.

It was an offer too good to refuse.

And yet, as she looked into Patrick's eyes, she knew she could not marry him, no matter how tempting the offer.

She did not love him and he did not love her.

He would be sacrificing his life, his dreams, and happiness for her. How would she be able to live with herself day after day knowing he'd given up everything because of her foolish choices?

Patrick deserved a wife who loved him as much as she deserved a husband who loved her. A marriage between them would not be fair to him in any possible way and the fact that he was willing to give up so much to rescue her made her tenuous grasp on her emotions slip.

Tears fell unchecked down her cheeks and seeing them made Patrick's brow furrow in concern.

He moved forward from where he was kneeling, wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. It was the last straw for Elizabeth, being held by Patrick and knowing how much he cared, was more than she could bear. She burrowed into his neck and cried.

She cried for her wounded pride, her foolish actions, her fatherless child, and for feeling so completely undeserving of a friend's offer to give up his happiness for her.

When she finally cried herself out, Patrick pulled away and looked at her worriedly. Then he raised an eyebrow. "Should I be offended that the idea of marrying me makes you weep?"

Elizabeth smiled despite herself and wiped her cheeks dry with a swipe of her hand. Then her smile faltered and she sighed.

"Patrick, I can not marry you."

Patrick shifted to sit next to her on the bench, a frown darkening his features. "Elizabeth, I've thought a lot about this. We'll say the child is mine. A few people might raise their eyebrows, but you won't be ruined. Please, let me help you."

His earnestness tugged on her heartstrings, but she would not waver. "No. You love Robin and she loves you. This wouldn't be fair to her or to you."

Elizabeth saw him flinch when she mentioned Robin's name and it hardened her resolve.

"Robin will understand." His voice had dropped in tone and in volume, and Elizabeth was certain she heard a note of resignation in it.

"I don't doubt that she would understand, but I refuse to let my foolishness ruin her life. It's enough that they've ruined mine. I will not let them hurt you or Robin."

"Elizabeth, this isn't the time for you to be stubborn." He looked perfectly frustrated and completely annoyed with her, and if the situation weren't so tense, she would have laughed at his exasperation.

Instead she crossed her arms and schooled her features to show as much stubbornness as she could muster. "I won't marry you and you can't force me to."

Patrick snorted, stood, glared down at her, then ran his hands through his tousled hair. Muttering to himself, he paced back and forth in front of the bench, all the while casting her aggravated glances.

Then he stopped, placed his hand on his hips and frowned at her. "Why won't you let me help you?"

It was quite the stern glare, but as Patrick had always been like the older brother who she could twist around her little finger, the expression didn't carry quite the effect he wanted. Elizabeth lifted her chin. "I never said I wouldn't let you help me."

"But…" He got no further before releasing a frustrated grunt and scrubbing his hands over his face. Then as he stared at her, she watched as a realization dawned on him. "You already have a plan, don't you?"

"First, sit." Elizabeth patted the bench next to her and as he sat, she took a deep breath. He wasn't going to like what she was going to say, but now that he knew about her situation, she had to convince him to help her or else run the risk of him walking straight into the house and telling Gram everything. She shuddered as she pondered the consequences of that.

Meeting his eyes, Elizabeth's chin trembled. Her entire future balanced on her next few words.

"I need your help. I have not told a soul about…" her eyes dropped for a moment in embarrassment, "my situation. Not Gram, not Emily. No one. Please, Patrick, I'm begging you not to tell anyone." She didn't mean to cry, she didn't want to use tears as a way to manipulate his decision, but she couldn't help the tears that spilled over her lashes.

Patrick looked away, his jaw muscles tensing. He didn't look happy and she rushed on before he could interrupt her. "I am going to leave."

Patrick's head snapped around so quickly, she jumped.

"No."

"I've had a long time to think about this..."

"No."

"and I am going to go to India to be with my parents."

He stared at her in disbelief for several moments before sighing. "Elizabeth." It seemed more of a sigh of resignation, than frustration. "You shouldn't be traveling alone, especially in your condition."

"Women in my condition are capable of traveling, and as far as being alone…" Elizabeth sat a little straighter on the bench. "It can't be helped."

"I don't like this."

"I have no choice. If I stay…" Another tear fell over her lashes. "You know what will happen to me, Patrick, and to Gram. I can't do that to her." Her voice fell to a whisper. "And I can't let that happen to my child."

It was the first time she'd spoken out loud about her baby and doing so seemed to change everything. The sun felt hotter on her face. The colors and smells of the garden seemed crisper and more alive. A weight settled on her shoulders and she strengthened her spine to bear up under it. Her decisions were not just about her any longer. She was now a mother and she had to put her child's needs ahead of her own.

Patrick had the sense not to argue the point. She had no doubt he knew exactly what would be in store for her and her baby if she stayed.

He reached over, drew her hand into his, and lifted it to place a kiss on her knuckles.

"I will do whatever I can to help you."

~*~*~*~

Their plan had been simple - secretly take Elizabeth to London and then search for an appropriate transport to take her to India.

However, it would not do for both of them to disappear together. That would create a scandal and Elizabeth could not bear for Patrick's name to be besmirched because of her, no matter how much he assured her he would gladly take the risk.

So, Patrick had left for London that very afternoon under the guise of meeting some friends at his club and making a trip to the alchemist to learn of the newest innovations in medications. He would return in secret the next night at midnight, meet Elizabeth at the end of the road to her house and spirit her to his apartment in London. There she would wait until he found suitable transport to India.

Elizabeth was grateful for his help. Although she had planned on doing this on her own, having Patrick's help definitely made things easier.

That morning Elizabeth lingered in her room, dawdling over her letter to Gram. She'd written this good-bye note a thousand times in her head, but now that it was time to put the words on paper, they all seemed to slip from her grasp. She finally had to set her quill down and leave the note unwritten for the moment.

Meeting Gram for breakfast nearly brought her to tears. Gram chattered on about the upcoming garden party at the Quartermaine's and Elizabeth tried to act and answer as if everything were normal. Yet, all the while knowing that this was the last breakfast she would spend with Gram, possibly for years, and feeling like a villain for stealing her Gram's chance at saying a proper goodbye.

She could only hope the note she left would ease Gram's worry, although she doubted it would spare Gram feeling as if she'd been betrayed.

The day flew by far too fast and soon it was time for bed. When Gram excused herself for the evening Elizabeth couldn't help giving her an extra long hug and again nearly breaking down into tears.

Once in her room, Elizabeth began packing. She would be traveling light and had found a small carpetbag in the attic weeks ago. Packing several dresses, chosen because she could easily sew panels of fabric into the side seams to allow room for her expanding belly, along with extra shoes, all her jewelry wrapped in a scarf and the bare essentials she needed for personal grooming, she finished and still had an hour before she had to leave. So she found herself staring at the blank page on the writing desk.

She still had to write Gram a note.

Writing it was the hardest thing she'd ever done.

Once she finished, she propped the note on her pillow, and gave it one last caress with her fingers before sighing and turning away. Pulling on her coat, she picked up her bag, took one last look at her room, and with a heavy heart opened the door and slipped silently into the hall.

~*~*~*~

Patrick was waiting for her in a small open barouche. It was early fall and the air was chilly, so he'd brought blankets for her to wrap up in while they drove.

They passed the trip mostly in silence, arriving at the outskirts of London before dawn. Patrick's modest row house was in a quiet upper-class neighborhood.

As he pulled to a stop in front of the house, he told her with heavy sarcasm that no one would be curious about seeing him bring a woman here because they would only assume that he was entertaining a mistress.

It was an inflammatory comment meant to incite her into playful banter and under different circumstances it would have worked wonderfully well, drawing out her wit in a sharp retort. However tonight, road weary and emotionally raw, she could only manage something less than a smile.

Patrick was wise enough to let her lack of remark pass without comment and an easy silence fell as he jumped to the street, then turned to reach up and help Elizabeth down.

The street was deserted. In the east the sky was just brightening with the promise of dawn, and the silence was broken only by a few birds.

It was doubtful anyone would see her in the pre-dawn gloom but Elizabeth kept her head ducked until they were safely inside the house.

Much to her surprise, the house was not empty. A dark haired and olive skinned man roughly the same age and size as Patrick met them in the hall holding an oil lamp to light the entryway. His features were sharp, giving him a pleasing rugged look and if Elizabeth were to guess, she'd say he was Italian.

"Elizabeth, this is my butler Julian. He has been with me for years, we can trust him to be discreet." A knowing look passed between the two men, but Elizabeth didn't have the energy to decipher it. In fact it seemed that now at having arrived at their destination the last of her strength was quickly slipping away. She leaned heavily against Patrick's arm.

With a nod of his head, Julian handed the lamp to Patrick. "With your leave, I'll return the horse and carriage to the stables."

Patrick nodded. "Before you go bring Elizabeth's bag upstairs and tell Leyla to bring tea and scones to the guest bedroom."

Julian nodded and turned to retreat down the hall.

Elizabeth looked curiously at Patrick. "Leyla?"

"My cook," his head canted to the side. "and Julian's wife."

She'd known Patrick kept a house, but she'd never thought of him having servants. It was strange seeing him being responsible, she'd always thought he shunned responsibility like the plague. It seemed she'd underestimated him. That was becoming an annoying trend with her.

Patrick led her upstairs to a small bedroom at the far end of the hall. It had been prepared for her, with fresh flowers in a vase on the dresser and the bed linens turned back. A moment later Julian appeared in the open doorway with her small traveling bag.

Just as quickly Julian disappeared and in his place a woman arrived bearing a tray of tea and scones. She had dark hair and pale skin and was beautiful after an exotic fashion. She curtseyed after setting the tray on a small side table and turned to give Elizabeth a quick smile.

"Will you be needing my help, Your Ladyship?" Leyla's voice was rich and smooth as silk.

Patrick, who'd just stuffed an entire scone in his mouth, turned abruptly to stare at the two women. Then realizing the subtext of the question, he began backing toward the door.

"If there is anything you need, please tell me."

"Patrick." Elizabeth stopped him before he could get away, and he stood in the doorway looking at her. "Thank you."

Patrick smiled, winked at her and closed the door behind him.

Alone with Leyla, Elizabeth let all pretense of humor fall away as she sank into a chair. She was exhausted and Leyla immediately noticed the change.

"Your Ladyship, you must be tired after your trip. Especially in your…" Leyla's mouth snapped shut and she closed her eyes in a grimace. The woman look positively mortified.

"Please call me Elizabeth." She let a bit of a sad smile creep onto her face. "So Patrick told you." She supposed he'd had to explain why he was bringing an unmarried woman to stay in his house without a chaperone. "I understand if you aren't comfortable around me…"

"Oh no. It's not that at all, Your La…" the woman fumbled a moment, clearly working up the courage to defy the iron-clad rules that defined their status. "…Elizabeth. I am the last person who would ever judge you."

Leyla began moving while she spoke, pouring a cup of tea and setting it in front of Elizabeth. Then she placed a scone on a plate, heaping a dollop of jam and Devonshire cream on it before placing it next to the teacup.

"Let's just say you aren't the only woman to fall prey to a charming man." Leyla's cheeks pinked at the confession. The two women's eyes locked and an unspoken understanding passed between them.

"Now eat while I find you a nightgown."

By the time Leyla had unpacked and put away her small bag of things, Elizabeth had eaten two scones and drank a cup of tea.

Nearly asleep in her chair, Elizabeth let Leyla help her into a nightgown and by the time she finally crawled into bed the sun was fully up. Closing the curtains tightly, Leyla gathered up the tea things and with one last nod to Elizabeth, she closed the door behind her.

Finally alone, curled up under the sheets in the muted gloom of the unfamiliar room, despair hit Elizabeth like an unexpected slap in the face. It was one thing to plan and anticipate such a huge change, but the reality of it hurt far worse than she'd expected. Her life as she'd known it was over. Everything she knew, everything she loved, everything she'd dreamed of was forever and completely gone.

She was a fallen woman. Her self-respect, her pride, her reputation was irrevocably tarnished. She'd sacrificed her whole life in one foolish moment to a man who hadn't had the decency to tell her good-bye. Jason had walked away from her without so much as a backward glance.

Splaying a hand over the small but firm curve of her belly, the tears came. She didn't have the strength to fight them. She was exhausted and vulnerable, and her emotions flooded through her in a whirling torrent that threatened to drown her.

She'd been so stupid. Thinking Jason had loved her. Thinking he would stay in Oxford to be with her. To marry her and raise a family with her. In that moment when she'd been in his arms she'd let herself believe it was possible. Jason was her soul mate, the man she loved, who loved her and together they would be a family.

Looking back now, she wondered how she could possibly have believed it, and yet the pain of losing that dream still hurt like a knife to her heart.

Elizabeth cried as she'd never cried before, sobbing in heaving gasps as her soul emptied itself of its regrets, its disappointment, and its misery. She cried until there was nothing left in her except emptiness.

Then she let herself hate Jason Morgan for taking her virtue when he'd had no intention of marrying her, and then hating him all the more for walking away and leaving her behind without caring one whit what happened to her.

Fatigue finally dragged her down into a heavy slumber, but as she slipped into sleep, one last tiny pang of sorrow shuddered through her, because now that she'd left home there would be no way for Jason to find her.

Dillon Hornsby had always considered himself to be a good pirate. Always following orders without question. Doing even the vilest of jobs without complaint. It was how to work up the ladder. Prove you were willing and capable and you'd be given harder and more important tasks to do.

That was the way things worked.

And he'd just been given the job of a lifetime. A job that very well could earn him a sweet promotion if he did well. The problem was that his charge wasn't cooperating.

He was standing outside the closed and locked doors of the captain's quarters trying to convince one Miss Elizabeth Webber to open up and let him in. However not only wouldn't she give him a chance to speak, every time he knocked, she hurled something heavy at the door.

The ship was still on full alert, even though Dillon guessed that they were well out of sight of the military frigate that had been spotted during their raid. But then Captain Morgan was never satisfied with just barely escaping, he always made sure they were well out of harms way before he stood the crew down.

Which meant he still had time to try to talk Miss Webber into unlocking the door. The last thing Dillon wanted to do was explain to the captain how one petite lady was able to get the drop on him and lock herself in his room.

Taking a deep breath he lifted a fist and knocked. A second later something crashed loudly against the wooden door.

He was tempted to swear but clamped his lips shut because he was sure if he uttered one foul word she would undoubtedly hear and he didn't need to give her another reason to keep him out.

"Miss Webber…" crash "if you would just…" thump "please let me come in and talk to you."

He sagged against the door and let his forehead smack against the wood. He had no clue what to do. Dealing with women, especially well bred ladies such as Miss Webber, wasn't something to which he was accustomed. Captain Morgan no doubt would know exactly how to handle the situation, well-known rake that he was, although having seen the slap Miss Webber had inflicted on him, Dillon had to wonder if he would be fairing any better at the moment.

Obviously the captain and Miss Webber knew each other. It was less obvious exactly how or why. However, the captain had never brought a woman aboard before and certainly had never installed one in his quarters. So no matter how she had treated the captain, she was someone of importance to him.

Which made his current situation all the more unpleasant.

"What's the matter man? Is everything all right with the lady?"

Dillon jerked upright. Johnny O'Brien sauntered up giving him a questioning look and despite how badly it reflected on himself, Dillon wasn't even tempted to lie. In fact, he was relieved to have someone to help him.

"She's locked herself in and won't open the door."

Johnny grinned, which only confused Dillon who saw nothing amusing about the situation and he bemoaned his fate. "The Captain is going to kill me."

Johnny pushed past the younger man and knocked on the door. A half second later something heavy crashed into it.

"See!" Dillon swept both hands toward the door in exaggeration to make his point.

"Aye, lad. She's got spirit, this one." Johnny stepped closer to the door and raised his voice so he could be heard inside. "Elizabeth, it's Johnny."

Dillon was about to tell Johnny that he was wasting his time because he'd been talking to Elizabeth through the door for hours to no avail when the click of a key in the lock sounded, the door flew open, and a boot hit Johnny square in the chest.

"You lying bastard!" The air whooshed out of Johnny's lungs and he bent forward, bracing his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. Elizabeth didn't pause to let him to recuperate. "You never meant to take me back to my ship. You meant to kidnap me."

Her gaze caught on a carpetbag sitting at Johnny's feet and her mouth dropped open. "That's mine!" Her eyes widened as if she were surprised to find evidence proving her correct. Then they flicked back to Johnny's face, her voice strained with anguish. "How could you?"

"No, lass, let me explain." Johnny pulled himself upright, rubbing his chest with one hand and holding the other out in supplication, but Dillon saw the pain of betrayal shining on her face and winced with guilt.

"I trusted you." Elizabeth's chin quivered as a tear spilled over her lashes and trailed down her cheek.

"No, no, no." Dillon couldn't help himself, she looked so wretched he had to try to make her feel better. "We don't, I mean, we never kidnap anyone." Now that he was speaking, he couldn't seem to stop, the words bubbled out of him before he could think. "If we had been planning to kidnap you we would have at least cleaned up the place and gotten some flowers or bon-bons or something to make it pretty for you." Smiling, he shrugged helplessly, knowing full well he sounded like a babbling idiot.

"Elizabeth." Johnny's voice was soft, almost pleading. "I had Max pack your things because I knew you and Jason were friends and so if you chose to stay onboard no one would have had to go back to collect them. It was only bad luck that the war ship showed up when it did."

Elizabeth blinked, causing more tears to spill over her lashes, and pulled her lip between her teeth. Dillon couldn't tell if Johnny's explanation had made any difference to her or not.

"The Captain wouldn't want me to tell you this," Johnny lowered his voice and glanced to the side to make sure no one was close enough to overhear them. "but if this ship were ever captured, every man aboard would face the gallows. Morgan never takes chances with the men's safety. Never."

"Yes, he's a real saint when it suits his purposes." Elizabeth swiped at another tear that had slid down her cheek.

Dillon squirmed seeing her tears and laughed uncomfortably. "By the way, I'm Dillon and I'm supposed to be taking care of you. So if you need anything, food, water, a hot bath, just let me know." Elizabeth eyed him soberly and Dillon attempted to chuckle, but only managed to clear his throat. "Are you hungry? I can run to the galley and see what there is to eat."

"The only thing I want is to be off this ship." Elizabeth's cool gaze slipped from Dillon to Johnny. "Give me my things."

Johnny picked up the bag and handed it to her. Elizabeth pulled it close and giving both men one last hard glance, slammed the door shut.

Dillon heard the key turn in the lock and gave a long low whistle. "What did the Captain do to her?"

"Watch your mouth boy." Johnny gave him a warning look. "Or else it's going to get you into trouble."

"But…"

"It's the Captain's business. Keep your curiosity to yourself and from now on your only duty is to cater to Elizabeth's every whim."

~*~*~

Leaning back against the door, Elizabeth dropped her bag and clutched the key with both trembling hands. There was still a part of her that couldn't believe this was happening, didn't want to believe this was happening, and thought maybe if she just woke up or snapped her fingers maybe she'd find herself back aboard the Empire Builder where she'd realize this was all just a bad dream.

The perfectly sane part of her knew exactly where she was and exactly how much trouble she was in.

Her gaze roamed the cabin. A large desk was bolted to the floor in the middle of the room and was littered with papers, maps and various essential tools and sailing equipment. Along one bulkhead a bed was similarly attached to the floor and a heavy trunk sat at its foot. Along the other bulkhead was a rack for weapons with its slots filled with assorted swords and pistols. There were no decorative touches, or for that matter, anything that wasn't strictly useful or necessary, and it was exactly the kind of room she expected Jason to occupy.

She could see him here, fitting in perfectly with the spartan furnishings, as he charted courses and planned raids.

Letting her head fall back against the door, she succumbed to her misery. She'd been fighting tears since she'd locked herself in the room, and now she was too exhausted to fight any longer.

It'd been harder to face Jason than she'd expected. When she'd first seen him, she'd felt that familiar pull, the rush of excitement of being happy to see him, and she hated herself for it. After all he'd done she shouldn't still be harboring tender feelings for him.

It was infuriating how weak she was.

Wiping her cheeks with swipe of her hand and accomplishing nothing more than smearing tears across her face, she peeled herself from the door and made her way to the bed.

She hesitated, staring at it with a flurry of doubt as she remembered another bed of Jason's in another time and place. Then she scoffed. Yes, this was his bed, but he wasn't here and there was no way she would ever willingly share a bed with him again.

Besides, she was too weary to resist the comfort it offered. She had dealt with too much today. Too many surprises. Too many emotions. She had been wrung of every ounce of energy. So slipping off her shoes, she pulled back the blanket and slid into the bed.

It smelled of him. Elizabeth breathed deep, inhaling Jason's scent and memories leapt to life in her mind. Jason wrapping her in his arms as their boat sank, her knowing she would be safe because she knew he would save her. Her seeing him through the window after Nikolas had kidnapped her and running to him, knowing once she reached him he would protect her. Her throwing herself into his arms, feeling them wrap around her with a strength that set everything to right. When he'd held her in the gardens, his closeness making her lightheaded with desire. Then that night they'd made a child together, through all the passion and tenderness, more than anything, she'd felt loved.

Warmth spread through her and despite everything a smile drew up the corners of her lips. Her tension drained away as if she was once again in Jason's arms and he was protecting her from the world.

Snuggling into the covers, Elizabeth spread her hands protectively over the roundness of her belly and fell asleep feeling absurdly safe and secure and loved.

~*~*~

Johnny stared at Jason's back as the captain stood glaring out over the darkening ocean. The sun was setting and the splendor of the pink and orange tinted sky was lost to them both.

The Captain's shoulders were taut, his spine stiff and Johnny knew that stance well. It was normally reserved for times of crisis, as when they'd nearly been cornered by the British fleet off the Dover coast, only managing to slip by the blockade during the blackest hours of a moonless night. That night had been harrowing, with the fear of discover and capture so bitingly strong the bitter taste of it lingered in their mouths for weeks, and right now Jason stood as tense and troubled as he had that night.

Johnny let the silence linger. He didn't agree with the Captain's stance on this issue and he wasn't about to offer him any platitudes to sooth his troubled soul.

"How is she?" Jason's words were as taut as his shoulders and he didn't turn to meet Johnny's eye.

"Angry. But who can blame her."

Jason didn't comment, but his shoulders seemed to tighten almost imperceptibly.

"She wants off the ship."

There were very few who could tell the subtle differences in the Captain's moods. Mostly because Jason did not want people to know his thoughts, so he'd learned how to control his emotions and keep them on such an even keel most thought him to be devoid of any feelings whatsoever.

Johnny, however, knew better. He'd been with the Captain since the beginning - since the tavern days - and right now Johnny saw by the set of Jason's shoulders and the slight lowering of his head, that Elizabeth's rejection had wounded him, deeply.

Feeling like an intruder in the man's pain, Johnny crossed his arms and turned his gaze away from Jason. Although his empathy didn't extend far. As far as Johnny was concerned Jason had brought this upon himself and could fix it easily as well.

"You could just tell her the truth about…"

Jason spun, his eyes sharp and his lips a thin angry line.

"No." His voice carried a finality that made Johnny grimace in frustration. Then Jason winced. "It's better this way."

"Better?" Johnny scoffed.

Jason flinched. "Yes, she is better off without me in her life."

Again, Johnny saw what no one else would. The slight creasing of Jason's brow and minuscule sinking of his shoulders that spoke of the pain saying those words caused him.

Johnny had more sense than to argue. Jason had made up his mind and nothing he said would change it. He settled back and shook his head sadly. Better. He sighed, remembering Elizabeth's anguished tear-streaked face and watching Jason's grave expression; he wondered exactly who this was better for.