vie rubbed her eyes as she cried. She stood at the side window watching the crew row their boats through the clear blue of the shallow water. Garson was back to being mean again. She knew his kindness wouldn't last. With each nice thing he gave her or did for her, she had to remind herself he was a pirate and could change on a whim.

 What had she done wrong? She helped someone who was hurt trying to protect her. She had heard him behind her, and he hadn't said a word until she was done bandaging the rope burns. Had he done so deliberately so he could chastise and humiliate her in front of his men?

 She moved away from the window and looked through the first set of clothes he had given her. She washed them after dressing in the set he brought that morning, and they were still damp. At least her chemise was dry, though it was stained with her blood. She hated looking at it, but it was all she could sleep in.

 She sat with a dejected plop onto the edge of the bed and tossed the chemise to the corner where her small pretty shoes were kept. She was told they weren't suitable for a ship, so he had given her short boots that thankfully fit well. Looking at the discarded chemise, she decided to sleep in the blue trousers and torn shirt she'd worn that day. She was alone but she wanted to be dressed if he returned.

 She thought of the previous night again. She'd let him treat her so she could feel his touch. She shut her eyes and tried to forget how good it felt. It was wrong. She shouldn't take pleasure in anything he did.

 Would she go to hell for being promiscuous? Although what he had done wasn't her fault, she'd been taught by the church that it didn't matter. It would have been better to die than to allow a strange man to touch her body. Even if she could be forgiven for his violence, certainly tricking him into touching her would condemn her to the fires of hell.

 Hell. Sin. Demons. Devils.

 She thought of what Radnor had said of their father and Garson's eye. The church had convinced everyone Garson was evil and possessed by Lucifer himself over a blind eye. Everyone knew what their father did to them and their mother, yet he was never accused of such things. She supposed it was because he was a man and the head of his household.

 Her uncle was never condemned for how he treated people, either. Some of the men Edgar drank with and shared in his strange medicine were deacons' sons and brothers of priests.

 How dare any of them judge her for what she had to do to survive? Especially when she was there because of her cousin.

 She sighed as she played with the prism. She turned it to face the setting sun so she could see the bright beautiful colors glisten in the dying rays. Tears started to blur her vision as she thought of what might happen to her.

 What she felt was more than fear. It was heartbreak. In her absurd need to know love, she had started to feel it for him. She had denied it and questioned it. There was something in the way he held her and in his tears after she described what she saw of him.

 If he were anyone else, she would have known he was a liar only wishing to toy with her in some twisted game like the aristocrats she knew or the captain he killed. She doubted he had it in him to care so much about what she or anyone thought.

 When he said he was tired, she could already see it. He was strong and confident, willing and able to do as he must in his position. The weariness was in his soul and it shone through that first night.

 When he cared for her, there were no ill intentions. He had risked death at the hands of his crew for protecting her as much as he had, but now, he seemed to regret taking that risk.

 She couldn't stop the sadness overwhelming her heart at the realization she had been a fool to believe anyone could love her. She was tired, too. Since the day her parents died, she'd been on edge in the midst of a world out to use and abuse her. She'd wondered so many times when it was going to all end. She only asked for a little love, and when it seemed she would have it in the unlikeliest of places, it was ripped from her to remind her she was unworthy.

 She wiped away more tears and stared down at her feet. If he returned, would he punish her? Would he hurt her again? He had promised not to, but how reliable was his word?

 She jumped when she heard his special knock. She stared at the door, wondering what he would do if she refused to open it. She shook her head at such a foolish notion and set down the prism before nervously letting him in.