adnor and Ronan quickly turned in preparation for a fight to protect Evie, then settled back into their chairs when they saw it was Garson.

 While the two men only saw their captain returning to his private cabin, Evie saw the man who might punish her for laughing with his crew. She quickly jumped up from the table and pressed herself against the wall, holding the coat tightly together.

 Garson hadn't bothered to knock when he heard the sounds of laughter on the other side of his door. He recognized Radnor and Ronan, though he had only sent Radnor to the cabin to deliver clothes.

 When he heard the warm, soft sound of Evie's laughter, his heart fell. He'd only made her scream and cry while the others gave her something to smile about in this dark rancid place.

 When he walked in and she reacted as though he were a loathsome creature come to steal her away, it enraged him. It was his fault she looked upon him in fear and disgust, but he suspected she wouldn't be so afraid if he were as attractive as his brother.

 "Cap'n!" exclaimed Ronan. "There's plenty o' food 'ere if yer 'ungry."

 Radnor looked over at Evie cowering against the wall, tears spilling down her burning cheeks, and he shook his head in pity.

 "Why are you both here?" Garson asked with the slam of his door.

 He didn't want others seeing and believing they had a right to her company, as well.

 "I brought the clothes as you ordered," Radnor replied with a huff.

 "I though' Miss Evie would be 'ungry," Ronan explained. "Ye never said she 'ad t' starve."

 "Out," he ordered in a low, tired voice.

 "Aye, Cap'n," Ronan replied as he stood.

 "I'll be seein' ye, lass," he told Evie with a smile and a slight nod.

 He tried to ignore the frightened look on her face and the plea for him to stay in her eyes.

 Radnor took his time standing as he grabbed a hard stick of bread from the platter.

 "I'll be on my way," he said to Evie rather than Garson. "I'll visit again. If there's anything you need, keep it in mind and let me know when I do."

 He sighed and shook his head as he looked at Garson's hard gaze.

 "Be easy on her, brother," he whispered near his ear.

 Garson glared at Radnor's retreating form. He bolted the door and went to the table. Looking her over as he sat down, he almost smiled. The regret over her fear notwithstanding, his heart thumped at the sight of her in his coat.

 He pierced a large slab of meat with a serving fork and dropped it onto his plate.

 "Radnor brought you a change of clothes," he told her.

 She stayed standing against the wall trying not to move or do anything that would anger him.

 He sighed. "Change before bed."

 He picked up the bundle from the table and stretched out his arm to hand it to her. She looked down at the clothes in his hand and forced her feet to move. She had to release the robe to gather them in her arms, but even if the sides fell away to reveal her naked legs, she supposed he'd already seen more than that for it to matter.

 Holding onto them, she looked around the room for a place to dress.

 "Stand behind me," he told her when he realized what she was doing. "I won't turn around."

 She chewed her lip and toyed with a corner of the tunic against her chest. She watched as he started to eat, not paying her any more mind. Walking around him as far away as possible, she did as he said and dressed as he ate.

 She tugged on the loose-fitting trousers, grateful they didn't fit too closely to her sore flesh. She pulled the frilly white blouse over her chemise and couldn't help a smile at the long lace of the collar and the hem, as well as the cuffs that reached over her hands.

 Evie hadn't noticed but there was a mirror on a wall set at an angle from where she stood. Garson could see everything. He wouldn't have suggested a captive stand behind him if he couldn't.

 He admired her soft skin and the locks of hair gently caressing it as it fell around her. When she cupped her hand over her womanhood and winced, he looked down in shame. He looked back up a few moments later to find her smiling as she admired the lace and ruffles of the blouse.

 He thought back to the dress she had worn to board his ship as she treated the tunic as though it were made for a queen. It was evident the dress hadn't belonged to her. Questions arose again about her uncle and cousin, but he wouldn't have time to dwell on it as he noticed she had moved toward the bed.

 Evie looked around for a clue as to where she would sleep. She suspected it would be with him, but she hoped there was a chance for another possibility.

 "What are you looking for?" he asked curiously.

 She looked down and tried to think of how to answer. If she brought up sleeping arrangements, he might use it as an opportunity to force himself on her again.

 Garson swallowed the meat he had been chewing and washed it down with his nightly ration of watered-down rum. He shook his head at the change in her from when he had entered.

 "I know it's difficult to look at this face," he said, standing to remove his coat. "I will never pretend to be as fetching as our doctor or my second in command, who both pride themselves on their appearance. Compared to them and even the ugly men on this ship, I look like a monster. Certainly, compared to the men you've known at your high society dinners and tea gatherings."

 She watched him as he hung his coat on a hook on the wall and sat on a trunk at the end of the bed to remove his boots. She wondered what she had done to make him speak of such things.

 "I know looking at this made what I did all the worse for you," he said as he made a motion with his hand around his face. "You'll have this horridness in your nightmares when you remember." He straightened on the trunk and glanced in her direction. "I'm ... I'm sorry for both what I did and how I look."

 He stood and went to a wardrobe on the other end of the room. He pulled out what she assumed were bed clothes and started to remove his tunic.

 She gasped softly and looked away before he stood completely naked. She clenched her hands over her arms in fear he would come for her. When she heard the wardrobe doors closed, she looked to find him fully dressed. He wore a red tunic that he left untucked over clean brown trousers.

 Aside from the deformity on his face, he was quite handsome. He was fit and strong, tall and straight. 

 "I don't think you're ugly," she muttered.

 She climbed into bed and pulled the blanket close as he stared. Hearing the tone of his voice switch from commanding and confident to almost humble gave her a small bit of courage to speak. She wouldn't have him believing she was a woman who cared about such things when what he did was worse than any blemish.

 "Not on the outside," she continued, her voice beginning to shake as her courage made her press on. "I don't see a monster when I look at you or when you speak to me as you have just now. The only monster is the cruelty inside you."

 When she began to speak in her quiet, timid voice, his heart softened. Fearing the stirring that had happened twice before with her, he began to wonder if her words were true or if she was only skilled at manipulating men.

 When she called him a monster on the inside, he became defensive. It wasn't that she was wrong. It was that she was boldly honest, and he hated himself for it. It angered him that she had the audacity to hold a mirror up that showed him so much more than the grotesque face staring back.

 Evie gasped and tried to climb out of bed on the opposite side before he could reach her. Her legs became tangled in the blanket, and she couldn't get away in time. She stared and tears filled her eyes as he leaned over her, his hands planted firmly against the headboard on either side of her shoulders. His face was only inches from hers and she could feel the steaminess of his breath laced with charred meat and rum.

 "That cruelty you speak of saved your life," he seethed. "Your cousin is crueler than me for bringing you here. Do you think he didn't know what pirates do to pretty women? Hell, even ugly ones. You're one of the loveliest these men have seen, and you think that wouldn't stir their craving? You may not like how I went about it, but you're mine now and that's all that's saving you from them."

 He was about to leave and put distance between them. He was starting to feel things that would put her in another situation he'd hate himself for later.

 "You didn't have to be so mean," she whimpered. "I wasn't ready for any of it," she sobbed quietly.

 He shook his head and gripped the bed beneath his hands as he stayed over her. She had her back pressed against the pillows and headboard, preventing her from moving away.

 "You've become quite brave since this morning," he sneered.

 With every word she spoke, he felt another stab to his heart.

 "I've nothing more to lose," she said softly. "All I had that my uncle couldn't claim was what you stole from me, and you did it in the most brutal way. I could appreciate the situation with your crew if you had at least been kind. You didn't have to make it so terrible. I hurt when I relieve myself. I hurt when I wash myself. I hurt when I sit as I'm doing now.

 Was it necessary to make me suffer?

 I've done nothing to hurt you or anyone on this ship or my uncle or my cousin. I don't understand why this has happened. I have nothing now. I am nothing now."

 He swallowed hard at her words and watched her cover her face as she cried. When he looked away to muster the strength to leave her, he saw the flower. The memory of her clutching it to her breast through his assault washed over him with a chill felt within the depths of his soul.

 He sat beside her and pulled her onto his lap. He ignored her weak struggles and patted her back as she continued to cry. As he thought of her words spoken from her fractured heart, he wondered what she had meant about her uncle.

 "Please, don't," he heard her sob, her muffled voice coming from against his chest.

 He patted her back and shook his head. "I won't hurt you again."

 Evie held tightly to the blanket as he held her. She quieted her sobs to pay attention to what he was doing. Was he comforting her? This was unexpected. She had braced herself for more pain, but he only held her and patted her as though he were consoling a lost child.

 "What I said, it was the truth. I truly am sorry," he told her, the guilt having become too much. "I've never been a gentle man, nor do I know the first thing about caring for a woman. This isn't gentleness even now. I'm tired. I'm weary of this life and finding no peace or joy.

 You came onto my ship like some ethereal creature from the old tales, beautiful and pure. Your laughter burned my ears with its unfamiliar light. You're the sweetest, purest thing on this vast sea. I won't let anything change that. That's why I made you mine.

 If those men had heard sounds of pleasure, they wouldn't have taken my threats seriously. They would think me soft and see you as a weakness. When a captain is weak, he is unfit to lead. It is only my position that keeps you safe from them until I can find a way to release you.

 I hope someday you can forget me and what I've done. I hope you can forget this ugly face and it doesn't haunt you."

 Evie pushed at his chest so she could look up at him better. His quiet explanation and apology took her by surprise, but she knew he was being truthful.

 She raised her hand and placed it over his scarred cheek. He inhaled sharply and stared down at her. No one had ever wanted to touch him that way, especially a woman.

 "I don't think this is ugly," she replied. "I know it seems strange, but I don't see people the way others do. Even themselves. I see what they are underneath, like now. I see a kind heart buried beneath a rubble of bad memories and the struggle for survival.

 These marks look like something different than what you see. To me, this is a mountain," she said as she traced the old burn with her fingers. "It rises high into the sky to meet the full moon," she added, using his blind white eye as part of the picture she was painting in his mind. "I can even see myself in it, like I'm watching over that mountain."

 "This mark here," she continued as she traced the long slender scar from his father's knife, "is a shooting star."

 She gently patted his cheek and smiled. "It's beautiful."

 His breathing had become fast as she spoke. No moment in his life had meant as much to him as just then. Other than his mother, no one's words or touch or glance had ever been kind, nor had they been so honest and uncorrupted.

 He gathered her close within his arms and buried his face in her hair. He allowed a few tears to fall before swallowing back the rest.