Destined for the pirate Beta

A fancy dinner

*Raphael*

She is dressed in an exceedingly distracting sleeveless gown with a low décolletage that bares a good deal of her alabaster skin to my discerning eye. The only thing that pleases me more is the appreciation that lights up her face, tipping up the corners of her mouth, when I enter, because I, too, took the time to dress appropriately for dinner as though I were attending an affair on shore.

Jenkins has done a superb job arranging the dinner: starched white tablecloth, two flickering candles, fine red wine, and four courses that would have made Mary proud.

Not that I'm particularly hungry, except for feasting on the sight of Anne. I consider revealing my musings out loud, but I suspect she would see it as false flattery. If I'm learning anything at all about her, it's that she seems unaware of her allure. She is modest in the extreme, and that makes her so much more captivating.

The only thing that ruins the tableaux is the rapid clicking of knitting needles as her blasted maid sits in a corner keeping watch over her mistress.

"I'm quite impressed with the fare," Anne says after taking a small bite of the glazed chicken. "I had not expected such fine accommodations."

"I spend a good deal of time away from ports. A first-rate cook was on the top of my must-acquire list when I gained my own ship." I admit.

She smiles. "Your crew is exceedingly polite. I had feared they might be a bit rough."

"They can be when the situation warrants." I study her over my wine glass, wondering where she is going with this. "I have the luxury of determining who I hire. I'm quite particular. If I'm going to be in the company of a man for months at a time, I want to at least like him."

"You seem rather educated." She says.

"My father insisted." I swirl my wine, and within the vortex, I can almost see what my life might have been if my uncle hadn't killed my father. "I had a tutor for the longest time. Then when I was fourteen, I went to sea."

She leans forward. "Why?"

"Why does any young man go to sea? For adventure." Although in my case, it was to get beyond my uncle's grasp.

"From what I can gather, you certainly found it. The lad, Mouse, told me that you saved him from being eaten by sharks." She tells me.

I down my wine and pour myself some more. "You know that boy didn't talk for weeks after we brought him aboard. Now he is a regular magpie."

"So what he said is true?" She asks.

Her brow is furrowed, her concern evident. I had planned to use dinner to charm her into my arms, not discuss the brutal aspects of my life. "We were off the coast of a small island in the south. Because he was born imperfect, he was thought to have no value. We were leaving the island when we spotted them hunting for sharks. I couldn't very well sail away without doing something."

"You told me that you found him in the hold. I assumed he was a stowaway. You must have known what I thought." She says.

I shrug. "We did find him in the hold, on numerous occasions. He was afraid, so he would hide down there."

"He also told me that you blew up the boat that he had been on. Have you killed many men?" She asks.

"None that didn't deserve it." I tell her truthfully.

She sighs. "You lead a rather brutal life."

"It's not as brutal as it once was." I admit.

She releases a scoff that might have been a laugh. "The first night I met you, I thought you were a blackguard. Now I'm not so sure."

The tempo of the knitting needles is increasing in rhythm. Her maid is obviously not at all pleased with that revelation. Maybe I should see if Peter or Jenkins has an interest in the woman. It would be nice not to have her constantly hovering. "I explained in the beginning, Princess, that I would never be what you expected."

She sets aside her cutlery. "Why do you call me that?"

"Because when you first walked into that smoke-filled haze of a tavern, I thought you looked like a princess from a fairy tale." I admit.

This time there is no mistaking her laughter or amusement. "Not difficult to accomplish considering the clientele."

Her cheeks flush, and I wonder if she might be embarrassed that sheis enjoying my company. We speak of books. She prefers those with a romantic bent to them. When I sneer at the very idea, she challenges me to give Jane Austen a try and has her maid fetch Pride and Prejudice from the trunk.

She tells me of growing up with four brothers, of being spoiled, of being thought to be the very princess that I mock her as being. Sheltered, protected.

"Perhaps that's the reason that I am so determined to make this journey on my terms… to simply prove that I can do it." She says.

"I don't imagine they are too pleased with your plans," I say.

"Oh, they know nothing about them. I left my father a brief note with no details, so yes, I suspect they are quite beside themselves at this point. I'm on the cusp of twentythree. I feel the need to be rebellious. A woman should have a moment in her life when she's rebellious, don't you think?" She asks.

I grin. "When it places her on my ship? Absolutely."

She laughs then, the unselfconscious tinkling that reminds me of the clinking of fine crystal. I can't imagine her ever being boisterous or loud or crude. She is a lady down to her core, and this man to whom she is betrothed is the younger brother of an Alpha. A man who doesn't shy away from acknowledging his place in pack Society. I don't want to think about the lucky bastard who will have her in his bed, while all I will have of her is a kiss.

I finish off my wine. "Take a walk with me about the deck."

"Do you ever ask?" She looks at me.

"I suppose I'm accustomed to giving orders. While it might not sound like it, it's an invitation. You can refuse." I tell her.

She smiles. "I could use some fresh air."

The clicking of knitting needles comes to a stop as I rise. I pull out her chair and whisper near her ear, "I don't think you really need the chaperone, do you?"

She is aware of a stuttering in her breathing before she says, "Martha, see to tidying up the cabin so that we might retire when I return."

My heart nearly slams into my ribs with the vision of her and me retiring…

Then fantasy collapses, and reality crashes in as I realize she is speaking about her blasted maid retiring with her. I am a fool. From her, I will only ever get the promised kiss. I am an i***t to consider that she might gift me with anything else.