Lydia And The Rogue

quatre

          Nicholas, now feeling intimidated himself, nodded. While the man was stern he could see the sickness brewing within his eyes — the sadness was clear as a whistle as well. "Agreed, Fabron," The men shook hands formidably. "I shall transport your daughter from here to Britain without fault. Should anything happen to her your wrath shall find me, I understand. As a gentlemen I can only happily oblige to your wishes."

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THE NEXT FEW DAYS passed as it should have. Lady Fabron constricted herself within her room only coming upon deck when the Nicholas was tending to things in the brink. Sam delivered her food and often times ate with her when the Captain couldn't. He tried to stay as farthest from the girl as possible as they slept, but when he woke up early each morn; their bodies were equally as cocooned in the others. Luckily she was too quarreled in her sleep to notice as he slipped away, shaved, and leaned to the men who'd been wounded badly in the storm. Luckily, the most the men had was sickness, same as Lydia; but they weren't quite as privileged. Only one had died so far, and he was to be amputated anyways, the surgeon had called it "best."

Nicholas felt a shiver rise in his spine as he thought of Hamish.

He often thought of the man and the depleting and depressing feelings that'd never seem to dissipate once he got further involved. That, exactly there, is why he left things at moot point. At bay.  When the tough gets going, without the rest of the quote to quote, he generally fled to the safety of the Northton, and wouldn't make haste for a return for many a days until things have cooled over. He wasn't a bashful man; he could eagerly take on anyone he just doesn't want to deal with sadness, not anger, not women. It was sadness he could not swallow.

He had been very fortunate heretofore, only now, he realized how much of a hole he's sunken into. A Lydia Fabron hole. Their journey wouldn't be too much longer, to be sure; and to enjoy himself, he must enjoy her. Every aspect of her. But he could not defy her dying father's orders, he could not harm her and relinquishing her the virtue of being a golden virgin and ruining her, likely leaving her with a babe, would hurt her. And God willing, he'd end up in his grave much quicker then planned if Claude found out in the slightest he'd touched  his daughter's forbidden fruit, his neck would be his.

Still... Good God, the prospect and the project alone was... enticing!

As he could hardly contain his hardening passion around her; he'd spent the last few days strictly doing what he was supposed to be doing if it was not for her on his ship, being a Captain. They talked little when she would catch him, and, with luck, it was of unimportant concepts that did not make his pants stir. The weather and when they'd bound the strip of land called England. He could tell it was all very foreign to her.

With a sigh, he watched the seldom calm waves run in tendrils across the ocean, very much reminding him of Lydia's supple hair. It was a little secret of the Captain's to ensure that it was no duty to be him, the man who could not die, had the devil himself in his veins! Some thought him to be a heathen from all the storms he had weathered in the past and miraculously survived and won every battle with other's across the vast seas. However, in his mind it was little duty and very much so pleasure. He realized, trickle by trickle, he did not resent his brother, Cam, or his father anymore. If not for his father's bloody reckon over his 'scoundrel' of a son; he would never of had the chance to be on such adventures. Nicholas would not be restricted to simply the ton, he'd be able to enjoy everything in little bits of bread. He was fortunate, in his mind, enough.

He loosened his gripped from the helm, intending to dart right back to the cabin and speak most eloquently towards Ms. Fabron before he sighted the only woman aboard talking to another crew member, with dark black hair falling towards his shoulders. His faced screamed 'noble' with alluring—though quite piercing—blue eyes, strong nose and broad jaws. His body was lean but small.

It was not fitting.

He walked closer, intent on hearing every word that soothed out of her delicate lips.

"Oh, yes! The Captain is most accommodating. He, however, is a crook at that. Would you not agree?" He refrained from snorting at her words.

"I do most agree, my dear, the Captain is an unlikely fellow. Exceptional captain, but not quite of a person. He's can be..."

"I don't want to be frank with a man I just met but there's no doubt he could be The Fiend himself! He hardly sleeps or eats and his manners are deplorable at best."

His hessians clicked closer, and soon he stood directly in back of her. The Arse had the decency to look up with a frightened expression. Oh yes, he did tower over this man. Two or three heads, six to Lydia's. Lydia's shape oddly reminded him of a little girl which always calmed his libido... until thinking how quick and observant, not the mention tentative, she'd be in his bed. He wished to bed her as soon as possible to guarantee not a single pregnancy in the hence.

"Aye, 'tis true. The devil does not sleep." Nicholas declared. Inconsistently did she shake her head before turning around, her doe eyes large and round. Afraid.

She cried out, "Captain Claremont!"

"It is good to know that you two are not on a first name basis. From what Lydia tells me, you've attempted to seduce her multiple times!"

Both Lydia and Claremont blanched. He did not try to seduce her but he was not going to deny that he didn't wish to; when he badly (sometimes quite like a caitiff) yearned to with a burning white, hot passion. He had this odd theory that she'd be quite the heel in the bedroom as she was not when she was, er, not in  his bed. She was dominant outside the bedroom, though he couldn't tell if it was intentional or not.

"Is that what she's told you?" Nicholas let out a hearty laugh. "Because the devil would even try at such a repulsive woman only to conceive a bastard child! I do not understand your theorem!"

Ms. Fabron let out a gasp and to say the least he was not surprised. "I do not understand your theorem, Captain, nor do I understand your lack of good use for words!"

"Do you not like the way I chose to use my profanity around savory woman, or is it how I neglected your elegance, hmm? Answer me that." When she let out a 'hrmph' sound, he badgered on, "Or... perhaps it is that you would not want to conceive such a child! Go to your room at once while I scold William here on disrespecting and antagonising unspoiled women?"

"The only one here who is the least bit deplorable and absurd here is you, sir!" She lifted her hand in an act of turmoil and defiance, wishing to—no, going to—blip him across his jaw. He caught her wrist posthaste and held it rather tightly. "Let me go!" She wailed but he did not heed.

Instead, he turned to William, he was new and inexperienced, quite evidently. He also had but the lowest of opinions of Nicholas, which sent his blood boiling. Sweltering hot. What better time to teach him a lesson then now? When the wound is fresh children ultimately commemorate for a lifetime. This would be no exception. "You'll go to the deck—forthwith, for three whips," It wasn't much for his standards. "For manhandling a woman such as Ms. Fabron." His deep and terrifying voice even sent his very own chills spiraling.

William's eyes glazed over with hatred, but he nodded, intent on not adhering Lydia's delicate cries of protest, smacking at Claremont with her free fist before he clasped that too, though, not as bitterly. "As for you, Ms. Fabron," He whispered in a hush tone.

"You'll whip me too, won't you?"

"If I was to do that I'd be getting whipped, too. Ignoring my own regulations. Probably by Sam though I don't doubt you'd enjoy to do that, too. Wouldn't you? Now, you have two choices. Stand on the deck and watch, or go to the cabin. The latter would prove so much less difficult."

He mentally scolded himself for even giving her the idea to watch him whip William. He could not let a lady see that, as girlish and skittish as Lydia was to be. He blanched just knowing she'd pick the first choice just to be intransigent towards the Captain's choices and indifferences towards her.

"Please," She whimpered. "Do not bring harm to William. He was merely being a friend."

"So cabin it is? Very well, get on with it," He let go of her white wrists and pushed her soothingly forward. Almost the entire crew collected on the deck as she lowered herself into the hatch. Very well, as he liked to say...

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