*Raphael*
Standing on the deck in the predawn, I wait for the night to retreat. We arrived in the harbor yesterday afternoon. I expected Anne to go flying off the ship to be with her fiancé. Does she even know where he is? Surely, she does.
Instead, she retired to her quarters, maid in tow. Mouse reported that she had asked for hot water, enough to fill the copper tub. I force myself to stay on deck because I want nothing more than to burst through the door and watch as she luxuriates in the bath.
At first, I imagine a soapy cloth skimming over her skin, but then the cloth becomes my hands. Beginning at her neck, I glide my large hands along her shoulders and circle around until I cup her breasts. I can almost feel the weight of them against my palms. I think of going into my quarters
