'What the fuck did I just do?' Roxanne thought desperately as she fled down through the gun deck, ignoring the few crew there, heading down another ladder until she reached the store.

Closing the door, she sat on a crate, head in her hands as she tried to calm her racing heart and mind.

"Why the fuck did I do that?" she whispered wildly, fingers running through her hair.

The taste of whiskey lingered on her lips and in her mouth.

The ghost of his touch was still in her hair as she raked her own fingers through it, noticing her hands were slightly shaky.

Roxanne was confused and conflicted by Edward's reaction to the kiss, as he had returned it first, then pushed her away, breaking it abruptly.

"Probably remembered he was kissing an English governor's daughter," she muttered bitterly, picking a thread in her sash as she crossed her legs. Studying her feet, bare as she hadn't been wearing her boots in the captain's cabin.

With a frustrated sigh, she exchanged her seat for a more comfortable one, curling up atop a pile of empty hessian sacks.

Her eyes drifted around the store, which was organised and tidy, evidently kept that way by someone on the ship.

Barrels, labeled boldly in black, were stacked and tied in place alongside a few full sacks, presumably containing grain or something similar.
A mouse sat nibbling on a stalk of straw close to a crate of wine bottles.

Roxanne watched the little creature, her mind still full of thoughts of the kiss she'd just had with the Lady's captain.

Approaching footsteps startled the mouse and it bolted into a dark crack between two stacks of crates, while Roxanne glanced over, wondering who was coming.

The door opened and the first thing Roxanne saw was a stack of long, thin crates balanced over outstretched arms. Then she saw a flash of dark purple as a hip nudged the door: the tails of a sash.

The crates were carefully lowered to the dusty floor beside the barrels, then the tall figure of a young woman straightened up, brushing dust off her black shirt.

"What are you doing down here?"

"Hiding," Roxanne muttered, playing with the corner of one of the sacks she was curled up on.

Sahara's eyes narrowed as she stood studying Roxanne, then sat beside her.

"Why?" she asked curiously.

"Because I did something very, very stupid," Roxanne said in reply.

Sahara stretched herself out comfortably. "What kind of very, very stupid thing? Did you let that dog eat something in the captain's cabin? Spill wine over a map of Tortuga?"

She shook her head miserably, hesitating for a moment before quietly admitting exactly what she had done.
"I kissed Captain Teague."

"Do you love Captain Teague?" Sahara asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Yes I do," Roxanne replied, sure of that much at least. She did love him.

"Then why is kissing him a very, very stupid thing?"

"Because I don't think he likes me back!"

Sahara shook her head slightly.
"Then you are officially the most oblivious person I have ever met. Of course he likes you! He shot someone for calling comments in your general direction! His eyes hardly ever leave you when you're on deck! You're sleeping in his bed!"

"He'd shoot someone for commenting about you or Soracha too. It doesn't mean he likes me," Roxanne muttered.

"Roxanne, you're sharing a cabin with him. The captain's cabin, no less, which most people aren't allowed to enter, never mind sleep in. He wouldn't do that for just anybody. He definitely wouldn't go back to a house like the one you apparently came from for just anybody. You caught his attention and managed to keep it."

Sahara's voice was soft, and Roxanne noticed her accent.
It was much like her own; clipped, posh English but with a slight overlay of something else.

"How did you end up here?" she asked conversationally, curious to know more about the woman and distract her mind from Edward Teague.

Sahara glanced down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. Her fingers brushed over her wrists, pulling her cuffs back slightly to reveal a round scar over each of the two protruding bones on either side of her wrist.

Roxanne glanced at the scars curiously, wondering how she'd received injuries in that particular place.
"What happened?"

There was a moment of silence before the other woman spoke again, her voice thick, which made the slight accent all the more noticeable.
"My father sold me."

"Sold you?" Roxanne was confused for a moment, then her eyes widened as the meaning of Sahara's words registered.

"We weren't well-off and he drank too much, then one day he couldn't pay his debts anymore."

Again, Sahara fell silent, running her fingers over her scars in an almost tender gesture.
"I think I was ten. My childhood ended the day I became a slave."

Roxanne tentatively reached out, wanting to comfort her, but Sahara pulled her hands away before she could make contact.

Her thighs were pressed tightly together and she crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself.

"I'm sorry-" Roxanne began.

"Don't." Sahara said, sounding uncharacteristically harsh. "Don't apologise. Don't pity me. It's who I am now, a slave who is only here because Edward Teague is an uncommonly decent man. He freed me, gave me a new life here and I can never repay him for that. He's the only man I've trusted since I was ten years old."

"There ye are."

As though summoned by the mention of his name, Teague entered the store.
"Hiya Sahara. Roxanne, a word please?"

His tone made it clear he wasn't requesting.

Reluctantly, she got up, bidding Sahara goodbye before following Teague quietly back to the captain's cabin.

The door closed and Roxanne suddenly found herself pinned against the wall, Teague's strong hands holding her hip and shoulder.

His gaze searched her face, then met her eyes and for a long moment, he stayed perfectly still, seeming to be trying to memorise every detail of her irises.

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have...don't know what I was thinking...I'm not the kind of woman..."

"Roxanne," Teague said softly, "do shut up."

And then he was kissing her, softer than she'd kissed him, tongue slowly and gently opening her lips as his hand untucked her shirt, slipping underneath it to caress the skin above her pelvis, slowly moving over to her stomach.
His other hand left her shoulder to cup her cheek and jaw, palm and fingers rough against her skin.

Eventually, the need to breathe made them slowly break the kiss.

Roxanne simply stood there, gazing into his eyes, her fingertips tentatively tracing his jaw, rough with stubble, too captivated to move and fearful of shattering the moment.

He slowly lowered his hand, taking her free one gently, then raising it to his lips to press a tender kiss to each of her knuckles.

"Asthore."
His voice was soft and slightly husky, eyes gentle.
"Is tú mo rogha. Tá grá agam duit."

"Are you going to tell me what that means?" Roxanne asked quietly after several moments.

"The last bit means 'I love you'. Tá grá agam duit. The rest of it, I'll tell ye later."

"Alright," she agreed softly.

Teague stepped back, reaching for a bundle of scarves on a shelf.
Sitting down, he carefully unwrapped them, picking up his guitar.

After a moment of adjusting the tuning, he started to play, a soft, rather romantic tune floating from the strings.

Roxanne smiled, enjoying the music.
"That's beautiful. What's it called?" she asked.

He shrugged slightly.
"Don't know what it's called in English. Glad ye like it."

"I do like it. It's lovely. Are there lyrics?"

"Aye. Though I can sing it easier in Gaelic than in English."

"Will you sing it?" Roxanne asked quietly.

For a second, Teague continued to play silently, then softly began to sing.

The sounds of Gaelic softened his rather rough voice, making it melodic and lilting, while still retaining the soft, deep tone of his speaking voice.

Roxanne didn't understand a word but decided she didn't need to. His voice and guitar was musical perfection, regardless of what tongue the words were in.

Leaning back just slightly in her chair, she closed her eyes and sat silently, savouring and enjoying the music.

Finally, silence fell again.

Roxanne opened her eyes, watching Teague carefully set his guitar aside.

"Did ye like that?"

She nodded. "Very much so. It was beautiful."

"That's one of the first songs I ever learned to play."

"Who taught you?" Roxanne asked curiously.

"An old friend taught me the basics. I taught myself from there, learning through listening to people play and a lot of experimentation."

Teague ran a thumb over his jaw.
"I'm goin' to shave, then check on Soracha and go visit my folk."
His eyes glimmered playfully. "And no, I'm not going to fuck my doctor."

Roxanne grinned slightly at his teasing about Soracha, glad her accusations hadn't caused any problems between them.

She remained seated while he went to shave, her gaze drifting around the cabin.

Just before leaving, he paused, lips touching her forehead in a brief, tender kiss.
He gave her hands a quick squeeze, then stepped out.

After a brief hesitation, she followed.

Apparently the Lady had also taken on new crew while in Ireland, for there were several new faces assembled on deck.

"Quiet down now please."
Teague didn't raise his voice, nor did he need to. His quietly authoritative stance and steady gaze distinguished him as being in charge and the crew, both new and old, recognised as such, silence falling almost immediately.

"New crew, welcome aboard the Misty Lady. I have one rule on board and its very simple : Women are not to be touched, commented about in a vulgar manner, made to feel threatened or uncomfortable, bedded, or anything else of the sort. My Quartermaster is a woman, as is my sailmaker and doctor. The penalty for breaking the rule is death. My doctor has my full permission to kill any offenders if I don't do it first."

His eyes swept over the assembly of men, then he waved a hand.
"That's all I have to say. New crew, the old crew will see you're all assigned quarters and duties. Any problems, speak to my quartermaster Sahara or myself."

He then added, "Roxanne, I'm going to call into home before leaving. I want you to come and I'll see if Soracha is fit to come too."

"Alright," she said in agreement.

************************************

Soracha glanced over her shoulder as she heard the door open, replacing the cork of her bottle.

"How're ye feelin' now?" Teague asked, gaze flickering to her side.

"Much better. Still fairly sore but nothing whiskey and painkillers can't help," she replied, indicating the bottle.
"Ye just here to check on me or do ye want somethin'?"

"I'm takin' Roxanne to see my family now we've...um...become more than friends and I was hoping you'd come with us."

"Excuse me?" Soracha said sharply, eyebrow raising suddenly.
"Are ye tellin' me that you and Roxanne are dating?"

"Aye, we are."

Soracha rose slowly, wincing slightly and buckling her scabbards into their usual place on her back.

"Comin'. I need a quick word with Roxanne first though."

With that, she left the surgery, finding Roxanne waiting on deck.

The sunlight glinted on her knife blades as she approached, a rainbow arching over the Lady's mast as the rainclouds gradually dispersed.

"I hear ye and my best friend are dating now," she said casually, catching Roxanne's attention.

"Yes we are, well we've kissed twice anyway," Roxanne replied with a slight smile.

Soracha's eyes glittered slightly and Roxanne suddenly found herself backed against the Lady's railings with cold steel against her throat.

The Irishwoman was slightly shorter than her, but her body was hard with muscle, knife blades pressed firmly against Roxanne's throat.

"Listen to me Roxanne Sparrow. My knives are currently directly over the arteries in your neck. If my hands slip, you will be dead in a few minutes. And the only way you'll find yourself in this position again is if you ever do anything to hurt Edward Teague in any way. If you cause that man harm or distress, so help me God, I will personally kill you and make sure nobody ever finds your body. I've known him the longest. Hurt him and you can be damn sure I will kill you. Do you understand?"

The railings were digging into her back, the blades twitching very slightly at her neck.

"Yes, I understand," Roxanne said, too afraid of the Lady's doctor, who she knew was exceptionally skilled at murdering people, to dare say anything else.

"Very good."
Soracha nodded and stepped back, lowering her knives.
"Come on then."

The three of them left the Lady together, walking in silence until they came to a pair of gates, which had once been grand and imposing, but were now rusted and hanging on broken hinges, the latch long since corroded.

An abundance of weeds sprouted from cracks in the paving stones which made up the long, sweeping driveway that led to the looming structure of the house itself.

"Welcome," Teague said to Roxanne as they walked through the gates, "to Teague manor."

The name sounded grand, but the house didn't live up to the impression of grandeur its name suggested.

The weathered stone exterior was half-hidden under tendrils of ivy and flowered creepers, many of the windows broken or boarded up.
The thatched roof was in need of repairs, parts of it beginning to rot.

The overgrown lawn was a tangle of weeds and dying plants, rusted sword blades sticking out of the foliage at strange angles, waiting to trip unwary wanderers.

Worn stone steps leading to the doors were littered with abandoned boots and other discarded belongings, a grizzled, mangy dog lying in the midst of them.

The animals ears pricked as they approached but it didn't lift it's head.

"Ainsley bocht," Teague murmured, kneeling to fondle the dogs ears gently. "Is Mum really making you sleep out in the cold?"

The dog sniffed his breeches, wagging it's tail. "Good girl," he said, giving her a final stroke before standing up.

"She's your Regan's mum isn't she?" Soracha asked, glancing at the old bitch.

"Aye. Regan was from her last litter."

Teague stepped over a boot, giving one of the double doors a firm push.
It swung open with an ominous creaking, and he stepped inside, Roxanne and Soracha following.

A grand, sweeping staircase dominated an entrance hall that would have been very impressive had it not been draughty, dusty and smelling of damp, giving off an air of neglect rather than welcome.

"Anybody in this hell hole?" Teague called, closing the door once Roxanne and Soracha were inside.

"How'd ye know we were here in the first place?" Hazel's voice called from somewhere off the hall.

"Cause An Ridire's docked an' none of ye have a ship," he replied with a slight smirk.

"Ain't you clever?"
Hazel emerged, greeting her brother with a hug and then embracing Soracha. She offered Roxanne a nod and warm smile, friendliness dancing in her blue eyes.

Indicating for them to follow, she stepped through a door off the hall, which led to a large, poorly-lit kitchen, a long table in the centre of the floor.

At the head of the table sat Eabha Teague.

Teague's hand slipped into Roxanne's.

Eabha looked up slowly.
"What are you two doing here?"

Dedicated to floranocturna, LeeannMor4 and Leigh Marsh who Wattpad won't let me tag for some reason. (Leeann, please pass my thanks along) 
Thanks for all the help.

And, as always, huge thanks to MaybelleMourier for being an amazing beta ❤️