The bar area was crowded and raucous laughter rang off the walls, mixed with the clank of pewter mugs and the occasional tinkling of glass.  Servers bustled about with trays of drinks and pirates bellied up to the bar, three deep in the areas closest to where bar maids took orders from behind the counter.  Off to one side, a gaggle of Margot's girls were gathered, flirting and offering various forms of service to the mostly-inebriated clientele.  There, closer to the doorway, the warm Caribbean night air drifted inside, swirling around with a pleasantly salt- and sand-tinged scent that mingled in sharp contrast with the acrid stench of burning pitch given off by illuminating torches that were ensconced high up on the walls and safely away from the throng of jostling bodies below.

Once she was away from Jacquotte and her vision cleared of the sight of Isalba and Arianna going up the stairs, Megan paused and stood rooted in place, closing her eyes long enough to try to think.  Time stilled for a moment and she did her best to block out the noise, the smell, and the heat that while not completely unpleasant, was warmer than usual for December.  Where should she go?

Jacquotte was proving to be a pig in fine clothing and she had no idea where Harry had gone.  Most of Isalba's crew were busy with women in those mysterious rooms lining the hallways leading off the main room of the tavern.  She thought briefly of Maria, Francesca, and Helena, wondering how they were faring their first night at the convent, and half-wishing she had heeded Isalba's desire that Megan join them for the evening.  Just as quickly, she released a bitter laugh, realizing it probably no longer mattered what Isalba's desires were, especially as far as Megan was concerned.

Why did she want Harry to keep an eye on her to protect her from the likes of Jacquotte, only to banish her to Jacquotte's table with a terse, seemingly indifferent dismissal?  And then there were the things they had shared on the beach.  What did that mean in light of the fact that Isalba was now upstairs with one of the whores, doing things she apparently did not want to do with Megan?  Since that night on the beach, Isalba had barely touched her at all, and even seemed to avoid her altogether at times.  Maybe she was, after all, just another woman to Isalba, and apparently an undesirable one at that. 

Mournfully, Megan wondered if perhaps Isalba had found what they had shared on the beach to be somehow lacking.  Megan, had, after all, never done such things before and she had not reciprocated very much.  She had not known what to do and had been almost completely consumed with the new and wonderful sensations Isalba had evoked in her.  Thinking had been difficult, much less thinking about perhaps showing Isalba some of the same attentions.  Besides, Beibhinn had assured her that when the time came, Megan's husband would know what to do and would teach her. Well, Isalba was no man, much less her husband. Maybe Isalba wasn't interested in teaching and only wanted to be with someone who already knew what to do.

Megan's eyes stung with fresh tears, wondering how she could have been so wrong about the things she was feeling.  She had thought – so many things — going into their time in Port Royal.  That perhaps when the men began to pair off with women at the tavern, Isalba might want to spend some time alone with her, as they had on the beach.  That maybe she would finally have a chance to understand the things she felt, the things she had come to want, with the pirate.  A part of her had been certain that Isalba wanted to do the things with Megan she had done with other women.  She had simply assumed that since Isalba had mentioned finding female companionship in Port Royal in the past, that surely she wanted Megan as her companion during this visit.  It had never occurred to her otherwise.

It had been one thing to see Jacquotte and Isalba kissing. Not only did Jacquotte initiate it, it was obvious from Isalba's reaction that she had not wanted or expected it.  And Harry had assured her they were merely friends.  He had yet to steer her wrong or misinform her.  But seeing Isalba and Arianna, and the primal and very public way they had carried on, a few things had become crystal clear:  Megan suddenly had a place for her feelings, a frame of reference for those longings she had tried so hard to understand.   Watching them had been a shot to the groin, even as her heart had shattered into a million pieces.

What had become most clear was that Isalba did not feel the same way as she did.

Now she had to decide what to do about that.  Leave the ship?  To go where?  Stay on and travel and seek new adventures, and do her best to smother her emotions?  Perhaps.  It was not as if they would be in Port Royal forever.  Watching Isalba shower her attentions on other women in the taverns for a fortnight would be torture, but eventually they would return to life on the sea, and then Megan would be the only other woman around.  Maybe now that she understood more, she could use that to her advantage, and find a way to win Isalba's heart in the same way Isalba had won hers.

But what if Isalba simply had no desire for things to be that way between them?  What if Isalba wanted nothing like that with anyone?  She had never spoken of any long-term lovers in her past.  In truth, she had spoken of no lovers at all, only vague references to the things she did with women in places like this.  Maybe that was all there was to it, for all of them.  They certainly weren't in Virginia Colony anymore.  Maybe there was no room for love in this new life she had chosen. What had Isalba said? 'It has nothing to do with love.'

That thought made her incredibly sad.  While she felt no love for Patrick, she had always assumed that someday she would fall in love with someone. And here, she had, hadn't she?  It was the woman in her visions, the person she was supposed to spend her life with if the old ways were true.  The vision failed to warn her that spending your life with someone you loved did not necessarily mean they would love you in return.

It was all too much, and she looked to the doorway, needing some air.  Stepping outside she felt the bands constricting her chest begin to ease, and with a few blinks, the tears cleared her eyes.  Behind the buildings across the street, tall palm trees swayed in silhouette against the navy blue night sky, promising a peace the rest of the town did not deliver. 

Port Royal was a fascinating place, different from anything she had ever seen before and far removed from the small village back in Ireland where she was born, or the tiny town on the Island of Chincoteague where she had grown up.  Looking around there were taverns and brothels and hotels for as far as she could see, mixed with shops that were closed for the night.  Even outside it was still noisy, with sounds similar to the ones she had just left coming from every open doorway down the street.  Drunken men stumbled down the street, sometimes supported by female companions and sometimes supported by other drunken men.  Songs of the sea rang out, carried on voices rough with smoke and hard liquor. 

Her family would never approve of this place and certainly would not approve of the life she was now living or the company she kept.  Beibhinn would be shocked to learn of the things Megan had done: rowing a boat across the water during a violent storm, shooting a man dead, wearing trousers, visiting Indian villages, carousing around pirate bonfires at night, and lying in the arms of  a woman who was kissing her senseless on a beach under the stars.  No, her family would disown her for such things, if they hadn't already.

And yet she was drawn to it — drawn to the life screaming from every direction, and the happy-go-lucky, live-for-today attitude her pirate family thrived on. For they had become her family in only a few short months.  She was one of them now, and rarely received the scornful looks that had been abundant when she first joined up with them. 

Was she a pirate now?  She thought of her tanned skin, her pierced ear, her boy's clothing, and her very own gun and dagger.  Even she wasn't fooled by Jacquotte's title for her of 'Lady Megan'. Looking down at herself, she laughed out loud.  Beneath her very feminine dress she was no lady.  Not anymore.  Hidden under her petticoats was a woman who now knew her way handily around a ship.  "Yes, I am a pirate," she whispered softly.  "And I think I like being one."

Well.  If this was the life she had chosen, if this was what she really wanted, then she should become fully one of them.  Turning around, she went back into the tavern and found a seat near the end of the bar, waiting patiently for one of the bar maids to notice her.  Finally she caught the eye of an older, harried server and held up a hand. "Ale, please."  She dug a coin from her pouch and slapped it down on the bar counter, only to have it pushed back in front of her by a large, calloused hand.

She looked up.  "Hey! I am ordering myself a drink here."

"And I would like to buy it for you."  A young man slid onto the bar stool next to her and smiled rakishly.  He was handsome, ruggedly so, with sharp, chiseled features, his ebony hair clean but windblown, his blue eyes pale against his sun-darkened skin.  Studying him closely, Megan found few creases on his face and realized they were likely near the same age.  He was muscular but lanky, as if he wasn't quite done growing into his own body. "Two ales, please," he called out to the bar maid, who grabbed two mugs and began filling them from a dewy-cold pitcher.

"I am Luke."  He held out his hand.  "What is your name?"

"Megan," Megan briefly grasped the offered hand, returning his firm grip with just the slightest pressure.  "Thank you for the drink." She lifted the mug the server had brought and took a sip.

"Here is to perhaps buying something more, before the night is ended."  Luke held up his mug and clinked it against hers.

"Something more?   I have had bread and cheese, but it is kind of you to offer."  Megan smiled.

"I was thinking more along the line of your services."  Luke leaned close, lifting a strand of her hair and slowly letting it fall.

"My — services?"  Megan tilted her head and then blushed as his meaning hit her.  "Oh.  Luke, I am not — What I mean is, I do not work here.  Do you understand?"

Now it was Luke's turn to blush.  "My apologies.  I am so sorry."  He stood. "What a cad I am.  I —" He lowered his voice.  "I have never approached a woman in this manner before.  I assumed — I mean, you are sitting here alone, and the other women are nearby.  Oh —"  His blush deepened. "I am botching this thing terribly.  I did not mean to insult you, Lady Megan.  And to think I could have had the pleasure of your company over our drinks.  But I will leave you in peace." He started to back away and Megan grasped his sleeve.

"It is alright.  I can see how you would make such an assumption.  No offense taken."  She patted the seat he had vacated.  "If you are content to share drinks, I would not mind the company.  I am feeling a little bit lonely"

"Oh, alright then." Luke sat back down and lifted his mug and touched it to hers again.  "Let us start out anew.  To conversation with the most beautiful woman in the room."

"Thank you."  Megan found her smiles coming more and more easily.  "What brings you to Port Royal?"

"I am a cabin boy on Rob Roy's pirate ship.  You have heard of him?"  Luke turned his body so he was facing her better.

"No, I am sorry.  This is my first time here.  I do not know many pirates, other than the ones on my captain's ship."  Megan swirled her ale around and drank down half her mug.

"You? Traveling on a pirate ship?"  His eyes grew round as Megan shook her head in the affirmative.  "Blimey.  I would never have guessed."

"I usually wear trousers and boots."  Megan smoothed her skirt and lifted her hand, playing with the pearls nestled at her throat.

"Well, the bird flaunts fine feathers on this night."  Luke reached out and also touched her necklace, giving it a little tug and brushing their fingers together.  "Who is your captain?"

"Isalba Cortez." Megan looked into his eyes and realized they were the same shade of blue as Isalba's.  Brazenly, he took hold of her hand and she allowed it as their twined fingers dropped softly down upon her knee.

"You don't say!"  Luke was more than impressed. "She is feared far and wide.  We were in a far place — the Indian Ocean — even there they have heard of her.  She is a formidable foe."

"Yes, she is," Megan quietly agreed, her heart sinking as she realized at present she herself was not in Isalba's good graces.

"Megan, what is wrong?"  Luke reached up with his other hand, touching her cheek. "You grew sad all of a sudden."

"It is nothing." Megan drew in a deep breath, banishing her melancholy. "I am far from the comforts of home.  It gets to me every now and then."

"Oh, I understand.  I ran away from home myself.  Boston. My old pappy, he was fond of the bottle and fond of the lash after a night out on the town."  Luke took a drink from his mug, tilting it and draining it.  "I got to where I could not take it anymore, being beaten by him." He turned and got the server's attention.  "Two more mugs of ale, please, lady!"

"I am sorry."  Megan squeezed his hand. "I knew a man like that back in Virginia Colony.  His son was always bruised.  It isna right, the way some men treat their children."

"Ah, it is alright now." Luke gave her hand a return squeeze.  "I am away from him now and having a fine adventure."

"I feel the same."  Megan accepted her second mug of ale and took a sip.  "I ran away from my fiancé.  I was not ready to be married.  I did not fancy myself a farmer's wife."

"I cannot picture you as such." Luke quickly emptied half his mug and released Megan's hand, trailing it up her thigh and arm to her face again.  "You are indeed very beautiful, Lady Megan.  I wish —"

"You wish what?" Megan lifted her hand, covering his.

"You are a lady.  I cannot say what I wish."  He caressed her cheek with his fingertips, then ran them back through her hair.

Remembering her own thoughts out on the street, Megan laughed lightly.  "I am a pirate in lady's clothing," she corrected him.  "Ladies do not shoot guns, smoke tobacco, or know how to hoist sails on a ship, now do they?"

"No, I suppose they do not."  Luke finished his drink and Megan followed suit.  "Another mug?"

Megan nodded and Luke ordered their third round.  They sipped slowly this time, their eyes meeting over the rims of their mugs.  "You really smoke tobacco?"  Luke finally asked her.

"Yes, sometimes."  Megan brushed her hand across her upper lip, removing an ale foam mustache.  "I wanted to fit in with the others and all of them smoke, even Isalba."

"I have no doubt she does." Luke laughed. "Tell me, what is she like?"

"What is she like?"  Megan was able to think about that now without pain, the alcohol putting just enough distance between heart and head to dampen her feelings for Isalba. "She is wild, like the wind.  There is no taming her, she does what she wants to, when she wants to.  And yet, she is good to her men.  Strict, but fair and very generous.  She does not ask anything of them she would not ask of herself, and she would die to save any one of them."

"Wild and untamable?" Luke grinned.  "I like that."  He set his empty mug down and reached across, taking Megan's nearly-empty mug and setting it aside.  Lifting both her hands, he drew one forward and kissed it.  "Tell me, Megan.  Are you also wild and untamable?"

"I do not know."  Megan's eyes grew soft and unfocused, as Luke leaned close. "Perhaps I am."

"Perhaps."  Luke closed the distance and their lips met in a long, slow kiss.  "I would like it very much, if for one night, you were."  He reached up, tilting her head back and deepening the contact.  "Very much," he murmured, his kisses moving from her lips to her neck, and his hand slowly ran from her thigh up her side, curling around her ribs just below her breast.

"Hey!"  A hand slammed down on the bar between them.  "If you aren't one of my girls — and I know you aren't — take it to the back room.  Last thing I need is a pretty young tart making the men in here think twice about the quality of the goods for purchase."

"I —" Megan scowled and sat up. "Tart!?"

"Megan." Luke's voice was low and soothing.  "What she means is, you are more beautiful than any of the women who are offering their services for coin, and the other women cannot compete with you for the men's attention, am I correct?" The woman nodded and he continued.  "Your beauty detracts from her business. What is this back room you speak of?"

"Are you two wet behind the ears or what?"  The woman shook her head.  "Around the corner from the main room there's a darker room with some sofas and tables.  More private.  Some of my girls that are willing to perform quicker or lesser services for a smaller fee often take their men back there rather than to their rooms. But we allow anyone in the tavern to go back there if they need to get more comfortable." She winked at Luke.

"What do you say, Megan?"  He took her hand and stood.  "Shall we go see this other room?"

"I — I suppose it would not hurt just to look around."  Megan stood and Luke draped an arm across her shoulders.  Slowly, she wrapped an arm around his waist and he guided her through the packed crowd, past the staircase and through a curtained doorway.

They entered a rather dark room, with only a few candles along the walls, rather than the brighter torches of the main room.  A thick, sweet smoke filled the air and several couches and tables were scattered around. Blinking her eyes to adjust to the darkness, Megan realized that while there was little conversation taking place, several other couples were in the room, most of them locked in an embrace.  In one dark corner a man had a woman pressed up against the wall, his lower body hidden beneath her skirts.  Luke guided her across the room toward and empty couch, and they passed a chair where a man sat, his trousers around his ankles, with a woman straddling his lap, her skirts hiding most of his legs and body.

"Are you alright to stay in here a while?"  Luke sat down on the couch and drew her down next to him.

"Yes. For a little while."  Megan reflexively scooted closer to him, unsure of just how safe the room was, and Luke pulled her even closer.

"I would like very much to kiss you again."  He lifted her chin and kissed her forehead.  "May I?"  Megan nodded and closed her eyes, shutting out the room and getting lost in the sensation of his touch.  The heavy smoke filled her lungs and she realized it was the same smoke she had inhaled earlier at Jacquotte's table.  A vague disconnect took over and for a while, she concentrated fully on Luke's lips and hands, banishing the troubles of the day and desperately wishing it was Isalba's arms that held her.  As his hand closed around her breast, she sighed softly.  If Isalba didn't want her, at least someone did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Isalba tore down the stairs and stopped on the bottom step, looking around the room. As men continually disappeared down the hallway and eased past her on the staircase, following behind one of Margot's girls, more men were pouring into the tavern from off the street.  If anything, the room was now more packed than when she had left it earlier, the noise rising up from the floor in a dull roar.  Jacquotte still sat at her table, surrounded by several of her men.  Empty mugs covered its surface, the cheese and bread reduced to crumbs.  They were passing around a long-stemmed pipe, taking turns inhaling deeply from it.  Storming toward the table, Isalba drew her sword. "What have you done with her?"

"With whom?"  Jacquotte smiled lazily. "How many women do you need in one night, 'Salba, really? If you must have another one, we can surely find you one. Your stamina is legendary, after all."

"You know what I mean.  Where is she?!"  She pressed the sword tip into the hollow of Jacquotte's throat and suddenly five swords were at her own. Isalba did not so much as flinch, her upper lip curling into a responding snarl.  "The first whisper of a blade I feel, and I will cut your captain's throat."

"Down, boys." Jacquotte waved off her men and slowly, they lowered their weapons and stepped back.  "She is not going to harm me."

"If you have hurt her —" Isalba's voice was dangerously low. "I will kill you."

"I have done nothing to her.  Your bitch grew tired of my company and left me."  Jacquotte rubbed her own cheek.  "She has some muscle behind her slap, that one does.  Whoa, whoa — back off."  Jacquotte felt the tip of the sword dig in slightly deeper.  "I did not touch her. She merely took exception to my words."

"I do not have time for your games."  Isalba re-sheathed her sword and leaned close, her hands on the table on either side of Jacquotte, getting in her face.  "Where is she?!"

"If you are planning to be the first to fuck her, you are too late.  I saw her go into the back room with Rob Roy's cabin boy a little while ago.  By now your little maiden has likely had her petals plucked."  Jacquotte laughed.  "But I would be happy to take a roll in the hay with you, for old time's sake."

"Damn it all to hell!" Isalba spun around and pushed her way through the crowd toward the back room, yanking the curtain aside and tearing it from its rod, allowing more light to permeate the room.  Squinting, she looked around, her heart leaping into her throat over and over again as she studied each couple in turn and what they were doing, hoping each one wasn't Megan and the cabin boy. At last she spotted them all the way across the room.

This time her heart fell into the pit of her stomach. Megan was straddled across the boy's lap, her back to Isalba.  He had one hand at her back, the other slowly pushing her skirt up while they were locked in a kiss that seemed to go on forever.  Thundering across the room, she grabbed his hand, just as it wandered up Megan's thigh, which Isalba noted with relief, was still covered in the linen and lace of her best under garments.  "If your manhood is not still tucked safely inside your trousers, I will cut it off," she warned.

"Aggrffhhh." Luke pulled back from the kiss and gurgled as the blood rushed back to his head from regions farther south. Looking up and up and up, his eyes finally met two ice chips, glaring back at him, full of murderous intent.  "Wh — wh — who —?"

"Let her go!" Isalba roared.

"Isa?"  Megan looked up and immediately jutted out her chin in defiance.  "I am only doing what you have already done this night.  You have no right to interfere with what I do."

It was like the stab of an icicle through her soul.  Slowly, Isalba released Luke's hand and took a step back, assessing the situation. "I am sorry." She knelt down next to Megan, who remained firmly planted in Luke's lap.  "You are absolutely right."

Luke looked from one woman to the other and gulped, then to his credit, wrapped one protective arm around Megan, though he remained silent.  Isalba suppressed a smile at his bravery, and continued,  "I have no right to tell you what to do. But is this what you want?"

Megan's eyes narrowed and she titled up a pert nose. "Maybe."

"Really?"  Isalba gestured around the room.  "You want this boy to fuck you like a dog in front of all these people?"

"Maybe," Megan repeated, faltering.  "I — what does 'fuck' mean?" 

"Ai-yi-yi.  Virgins."  Isalba rubbed her own face.  "How much has she had to drink?" This directed at Luke.  "Do not lie to me.  I can just as easily ask the barmaid."

"Th — three mugs of ale!" Luke squeaked.  "I swear, I was not trying to make her drunk."

"Sure you weren't." Isalba rolled her eyes. "And you weren't trying to pry her free of her pantaloons either, were you?"

"Eeep." Luke slunk down into the couch but dared not move aside for fear he would drop Megan to the floor and lose his head for it.

"Three mugs of ale on top of whatever Jacquotte plied her with." Isalba turned back to Megan and touched her on the leg. "Let me try again. Do you want to give your maidenhood to this boy, here and now, in this room, among all these people? If so, I will leave you alone."

Megan blinked as if she'd been slapped, her eyes growing wide.  Slowly, they filled with tears that began to spill over.  "No." She sniffled and eased off of Luke's lap, scooting over away from him and sitting on the edge of the couch.  Looking up, she reached out helplessly toward Isalba and then let her hand fall back to her own leg.  "I want to give it to you, but you do not want me." She lowered her eyes and sniffled again.

Isalba's stomach twisted, filling up with unexpected butterflies that threatened to rob her of breath and speech.  "Sweetheart." She finally found her voice.  Lifting a shaking hand, she brushed away Megan's tears and cupped her cheek, stroking the soft skin with her thumb. "You are so wrong."

Looking up, Megan released a happy, startled little gasp and reached out again, this time finding her hand lifted and held in Isalba's free hand.  "I am?"

"Very wrong."  Isalba stood and drew Megan up with her. "Let's get out of this place, shall we?"   Without a backward glance at Luke, they made their way toward the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 15

Isalba led Megan through the tavern and out into the street, where they began walking toward the ship. "I thought we were going to one of those rooms." Megan's voice shook and her insides were quaking at the sudden turn of events.

"What rooms?"  Isalba turned to her and smiled, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze as they continued to walk.

"In the tavern."  As they neared the end of the street, Megan looked back over her shoulder at the bustling crowd of revelers still crowding the town at near-midnight.

"No."  Isalba shook her head fiercely. "It would not be right."

"I thought you wanted —"

"I do," Isalba cut her off, drawing Megan over to a bench outside a closed shop, and urging her to sit down.  Kneeling in front of her, Isalba took Megan's hand and brushed an almost-reverent kiss across her knuckles.  "I do," she repeated softly, looking up into Megan's torch-lit eyes.  "Very much so.  But not tonight and not in a tavern."

"But —"

Isalba pressed a finger against Megan's lips, then stroked her cheek.  "I do not wish for it to be like that between us, Meg.  You deserve more than that from me.  Much more.  We were both angry with each other this night.  And we both turned to others.  I do not want our first time together to be on the heels of that."  Isalba stood and pulled Megan to her feet, leading her past the ships and docks toward the beach.  "Walk with me for a while?"

"I would like that." Megan hesitated and Isalba opened up an arm that Megan slid under, wrapping herself against Isalba's side as they walked. Overhead, the stars twinkled and the moon shone down from the night sky, lighting their way across the sand.  "I am sorry for spending the afternoon with Jacquotte," Megan finally offered.

"You owe me no apology." Isalba sighed. "I am sorry for the way I treated you tonight. I was jealous. I thought perhaps you and she –" Isalba hook her head. "Jacquotte was once a friend of mine, but our rivalry has always overshadowed that.  Neither of us ever trusted the other.  What she did tonight was calculated to get to me.  I have no doubt of that.  Sadly, I played right into her hand.  In that way you handled her much better than I did.  Anyway.  It does not matter now."

"It does to me," Megan disagreed.  "I did not want to be with her tonight, I wanted to be with you.  I do not understand, Isa.  One moment you are kissing me on the beach and the next  you act as if you cannot stand to have me in your presence. One moment in the tavern you were so sweet to me and the next you sent me away.  Besides, it was Jacquotte who approached me this afternoon, and it was broad daylight.  It seemed harmless at the time."

"Jacquotte is like a beautiful poisonous flower," Isalba warned her.  "She will woo you with her charms and sting you when she has drawn you close enough.  I have no doubt she would bed you if given the chance.  You are a very desirable woman, and it would hurt me.  It would double the pleasure for her in that way."

"I am?" They reached the edge of the water and Megan stopped, turning to Isalba.  "Desirable?"

"Oh, my sweet Meg." Isalba took Megan into her arms and ducked her head, indulging in a lengthy kiss, feeling both of their heartbeats pounding as the water against the shore on which they stood, their breathing uneven and labored.  With all her willpower, Isalba pulled back, stroking Meg's hair, the golden strands sifting through her fingertips and catching the soft light from overhead.  "Remember when we first met?"

"Yes."  Megan smiled.  "When the town was going to try you for witchcraft."

"And you saved my life.  Do not forget that part, for I never shall.  I kissed you before we parted ways."  Isalba traced Megan's lips with her fingertip.  "That kiss burned in my memory for four long years.  From that night on, I never ceased longing for more with you, even though I thought I would never see you again."

"I never knew," Megan replied, her voice full of wonder.  "If that is how you have felt all along, why have you not acted on it?  Or said anything?  And tonight, that woman – Arianna – if you wanted so badly to be with me, why did you push me away and go with her?  You broke my heart tonight." She looked down, sniffling and drawing a deep breath to maintain her composure.

"Valid questions with complicated answers," Isalba answered, her own voice sorrowful.  "I am sorry I hurt you, Meg.  Until tonight, I was not sure of what you wanted.  I thought – you are innocent, and I have no right to take that from you.  It had to be your decision.  When we were on the beach, I came close to taking advantage of you while you were intoxicated.  I pushed you away because I was frightened by my own fragile self-control.  But I could have handled it differently."

"You could have asked me what I felt," Megan chided her.  "I may be a virgin, but I am no child."

"I know that to be true, now."  Isalba replied sadly, her lips twisted into an apologetic smile.  "As I said, I was afraid.  Of what it means for us — for you.  I am a pirate.  I know you know that, but it is not an easy life.  What we are thinking of doing is only going to complicate things, for both of us. If I cross this line with you, I break one of my own shipboard rules."

"But you want to be with me?"  Megan questioned her, looking up and taking both of Isalba's hands into her own.

"Goddess, yes."  Isalba laughed lightly.  "It has made a crazed person of me, holding myself back from you.  It was never a question of my desire for you.  It was a question of doing the right thing by you."

"You said it has to be my decision.  Then recognize this as my choice."  Megan stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around Isalba's neck, drawing her forward and kissing her soundly.  "I chose to follow you, Isa, and I want to be with you. If we must hide our feelings from the men, I am willing to do so, if only we can be together."

"No, it would not be honest," Isalba answered, pecking Megan's forehead.  "Besides, I do not think we can hide this.  The men already assume we are doing things we have not done."  She smiled, tracing the blush that crept across Megan's cheek.  "I am the captain.  In truth, I have the right to do as I please, even if my men do not.  Until recently, we have shared our quarters for most of this journey. The men know I made that decision for your own safety, and none have complained.  You have since proven your worth as a crew member.  I think we can continue to share our berth and what we do behind our closed cabin door will remain private. I will think on how to make it work when we are not in our cabin."

"It is your ship, so I trust you in that," Megan responded quietly.  "But Isa, what of Arianna?  Why?  I went to that tavern tonight all but assuming we might pick up where we left off on that beach.  Instead you make love with the first whore to offer herself to you.  I do not mean to be crude, but that is what you did."

"I can see how it appeared as such to you, but that is not what happened." Isalba drew in a deep breath.  "Arianna was my first.  She took my maidenhood when I was fourteen years old. Tonight she purposefully taunted me in front of my men.  In front of my rivals.  There was nothing of love in what I did with Arianna.  It was about power and control, Meg. It was a matter of pride. We barely touched each other.  I was not even able to allow her to reciprocate —" Isalba trailed off.  "We never got into bed, or so much as removed our clothing. It was – it was what it was. Two people sharing body parts in pursuit of quick release."

"Is that how it will be with me?" Megan's ire rose.  "Two people sharing body parts?"

"No. It could never be that way between us," Isalba answered quietly.

"Why not?"  Megan frowned, placing both hands against Isalba's chest, as if she were thinking of pushing her away if Isalba didn't answer correctly.

"Because."  Isalba gently lifted Megan's hands and gathered her into a hug, rocking back and forth for a moment  "I have come to care for you too much," she spoke into Megan's ear, placing a soft kiss directly beneath it.  "When we come together, we will share our bodies and our hearts.  I know this will not make sense to you now, but someday it may.  Our first time together, I want to make love to you, not use my body to apologize to you.  That is why I want to wait just a little while longer – so that we will have a bit more distance between the anger of tonight and the joy of what we will share.  This night I only want to take you back into my bed and hold you while we fall asleep.  I have missed you so."

"And I have missed you," Megan whispered, her face burrowed against Isalba's shoulder.

"Come back to the ship with me?"  Isalba tilted Megan's face up and kissed her forehead, then her lips.  Megan grasped her hand and they made their way across the beach and down the central dock where the ship was tied fast. 

Crossing the gangplank, they stepped onto the deck to find Harry standing watch near the wheel.  "Oh."  Isalba stopped short, remembering the harsh words she and Harry had exchanged earlier.  "Meg, please go down to our cabin?  I will be there as quickly as I can, but I must have a word with Harry."

"You argued earlier?" Megan asked, and Isalba nodded.  "Over me?"  Isalba nodded again.  "I will be waiting for you."  Meg leaned over and gently kissed Isalba's cheek.  "Please do not punish Harry for what I did.  I am a grown woman, Isa. I do not need a keeper."

Isalba watched her until she had disappeared into the hold.  "Yes, but I will never cease needing to protect you," she responded when Megan was out of hearing range.  Turning toward the helm, she climbed the steps up to the raised portion of the deck where Harry stood.  "Why are you still here?"

"I have watch tonight," Harry replied in a stiff voice.  "And your ship would have been left unattended, as you have not yet re-drawn the duty-roster, Captain. Do not worry.  My pack is at the ready. I will be out of your sight at first light."

"Where is the duty roster?"  Isalba removed a piece of parchment tacked near the hatch door, peering at the rotation list that had been set for the crew.  "I see no changes I need to make."  She pinned it back to the weathered board.  "Please to report for your next scheduled watch after this one."

"Captain?"  Harry frowned.

"Harry." Isalba looked around and moved closer, touching his shoulder.  "I apologize.  I am sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier.  I wish for you to stay on as my first mate, if you are so inclined."

"You and Miss Megan have made up with one another?"  A smile played at his lips. 

Isalba sighed.  "We have come to an understanding.  But we have not finished talking.  She waits for me."

"Apology accepted."  Harry grinned.  "Go to her.  I will stay on, 'Salba."

"Thank you." Isalba ducked her head slightly in mutual respect.  "You warned me to put my ego in check tonight, and I refused to listen to you. It very nearly cost me the two people I hold dearest in all the world.  You are a good friend, Harry.  Better than I deserve."

"No, 'Salba. I failed you today," Harry argued.  "I have seen men forfeit their lives for the same transgression.  Your request was more than fair, but I am glad you do not want to go through with it."

"Controlling Megan is like roping the wind, Harry.  We both know that."  She smiled.  "In that, she and I are alike."

"I am not saying a word." Harry grinned back at her. 

"Wise man." Isalba winked at him and turned, climbing down into the hatch and taking the narrow passageway to her berth.  Their berth, she corrected herself.  She paused in the hallway, just breathing, as the events of the night finally pushed past the adrenalin and shock.  It was the right thing, to wait, but she knew she could not wait much longer and so she made a decision, and then finished the short trek to her cabin.

Opening the door a crack, she peeked inside to find Megan standing at the porthole, already dressed in her nightgown.  At the sound of the door she turned and smiled at Isalba.  "Have you and Harry solved your disagreement?"

"Yes."  Isalba stepped over the raised portal and closed the door, pushing the latch locked.  She busied herself removing her weapons and most of her clothing, stripping down to her underclothes.  "It seems like it has been a week since we arrived here."  She sat down on the edge of the bunk and scooted back, reclining on her side and patting the space beside her.  "Come here."

Megan smiled shyly and lingered in the window for a moment, then complied, creeping across the short stretch of mattress and yelping in surprise as Isalba rolled to her back and snagged her, situating Megan so she was stretched out on top of the pirate.  "Your hair is pretty, all fanned out around your head," Megan commented, reaching out and lifting a lock of the hair in question.

Megan playing with her hair felt good, a pleasant tickle at her scalp, and Isalba blinked lazily, reaching up and pushing Megan's own hair behind her ear so it did not obscure her face.  "That's nice," she commented lazily.  "What you are doing."

"It is?" Megan tilted her head to the side and Isalba reached up again, curling one hand at the back of Megan's neck, drawing her forward for a kiss.  This time she did not hold back, sampling Megan's lips and teasing them open with her tongue, tasting Megan and deepening the contact. With her other hand, she stroked Megan's back, then tugged her nightgown up just enough to slide her hand beneath it, making contact with the skin of Megan's lower back. 

"I thought you wanted to wait."  Megan felt Isalba's knee, nudging her legs apart.

"I do." Isalba continued to rub Megan's back.  "After everything that happened tonight, I need to touch you for a while, to feel close to you. Is this alright?"

"Yes." Megan smiled and yelped again as Isalba turned, rolling them over until Megan was on her back with Isalba hovered over her.

"I think —" Isalba traced a circle around Megan's breast, through the thin cotton that covered it.  "I am very close to losing my resolve."  She ran one hand down Megan's side, then pushed the leg of her pantaloons up and pulled her close until their legs were tangled together.  Kissing Megan again, she allowed herself to get lost in the sensations running between them, Megan's body moving against her and the soft skin of the thigh she had pulled up against her own hip.

Finally needing to breathe, she slid up, rubbing noses with Megan.  "Tomorrow."  She nuzzled Megan's hair.  "I want to take you to a special place."

"So we can do this some more?"  Megan guessed, her eyes crinkling with a smile as Isalba shifted until she held Megan against her side, cradling her in the crook of her arm.

"This and more."  Isalba kissed her again, feeling Megan reciprocate, their lips and fingers exchanging promises of things to come.  "So much more."

"Where are we going?" Megan settled against the long body, wrapping an arm across Isalba's middle.

"It is a surprise."  Isalba tangled their legs together again.  "One of the most beautiful places I have been.  I want to share it with you."

"I would like that." Megan smiled and closed her eyes, feeling Isalba's lips brush lightly across her eyelids, her nose, and then nibble at her neck.

"Rest now," Isalba soothed, stroking Megan's hair and then rubbing lazy circles at her back.  "Tomorrow is for us."

"For us," Megan echoed her, sleep already claiming her.

Isalba held her, hoping she wasn't dreaming.  She felt Megan relax even more against her, her body completely limp, her lips hinting at a smile as the deep breath of sleep settled in, tickling the exposed skin of Isalba's shoulder where Megan's head rested.  Her own body was fast losing the battle to stay awake and savor the moment, and she finally gave in, closing her own eyes and circling Megan with both arms, holding her close as the younger woman's heart beat against Isalba's ribs, lulling her to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The horse made its way up a winding path through thick jungle foliage.  Nearby, a freshwater river babbled as it flowed lazily down from high up in the hills to the ocean far below.  Isalba sat at the back of the saddle with Megan sitting side-saddle in front, one trousers-encased leg hooked over the saddle horn.  Isalba guided the docile mare with one hand, her other arm wrapped firmly around Megan, who had only been on a horse a few times.  While she had not ridden regularly in a long time, Isalba had far more equestrian experience, having spent her early childhood days in and around her family's stables, riding, grooming, and helping saddle her father's prize Spanish racing horses.

Letting the horse go at its own pace, Isalba allowed herself to be distracted by a pair of inviting lips, ducking her head and kissing Megan at a leisurely pace.  "Mmmmm." She smiled, her eyes taking in Megan's tanned face and long blonde hair, which was platted into a single braid that hung down her back. A few stray wisps caught the dappled sunlight overhead, shining like gold.  "I am dreaming," Isalba murmured.

"If you are dreaming then so am I," Megan responded, her lips curving up into a contented smile.  "This is comfortable." She patted the thick sheepskin saddle cover that cushioned both of their backsides from the smooth, hard leather beneath.

"You will thank me for it on the way back," Isalba teased her. "I plan to ravish you until neither of us can walk."

Megan frowned, the tip of her tongue poking out as she processed the pirate's comments.  "Isa," she paused, hesitating.  "What you did to the woman in the tavern last night — when she was sitting in your lap —"  She peered up, green eyes searching blue for answers.  "It seemed — rough."

"Ah." Isalba realized she had correctly read the fear in Megan's eyes.  "It was.  It will not be like that with us."

"But you just said —"  A kiss silenced Megan, Isalba's hand lightly caressing her thigh in comfort.

"I will not purposefully hurt you, Meg."  Isalba kissed her again, her hand stroking upward to curl around Megan's ribcage, just below her breast.  "Lovemaking — sometimes one may be a bit sore afterward, especially after the first time.  But the pleasure is well-worth a day or so of mild discomfort.  Do you trust me?"

Megan bit her lower lip and locked eyes again, Isalba's warm expression washing over her, easing some of her anxiety.  "I do."  She smiled. "Trust you."

"Good." Isalba squeezed her, pulling Megan closer as they fell into contented silence. She sighed in utter happiness, recalling the morning.  They had slept late, the sun well-up and washing through the porthole, bathing both of them in warm light.  Megan was still in her arms and as green eyes fluttered open, they had both smiled, drawn together for a lengthy period of kissing and touching, promises of their coupling to come.  Isalba had roused herself long enough to go to the galley and collect a light breakfast and pot of hot tea, which they'd shared from their bed.

Now they were headed to what promised to be paradise, a picnic lunch and a set of bedclothes secured in two saddle bags.  Isalba had spoken to Harry only long enough to tell him they might not be back until the next morning, and not to worry after them.  She had her weapons and had stopped along the way to mark the path — warning anyone who was thinking of venturing along that same trail to stay away on this day.  As an extra precaution, she had rounded up two of her men and set them to guard the path at the trailhead, over a mile from her final destination.  It was a single-track trail with no feeder routes, the only way up to the secluded location Isalba had chosen, well-away from loud taverns or hearing ears onboard ship.

At last they rounded a bend and broke through the trees, coming upon a series of pools and waterfalls, steam rising from one spring-fed mineral pool off to the side.  "Oh."  Megan drew in a breath of wonder.  "It is just as beautiful as you said it would be. More so."

"I am glad you approve."  Isalba guided the mare the last few steps and tugged the reins to stop her, then slid out of the saddle and held up her arms to catch her companion.  Megan pushed away from the horse and as her feet hit the ground, Isalba pulled her close and kissed her soundly, as she began to deftly remove Megan's crisp, white shirt.  Cupping a breast as she continued to sample Megan's lips, Isalba groaned softly and grudgingly pulled back to breathe.  Popping the buttons at Megan's waist, Isalba pressed her lips to a pink-tinged ear,  while greedily inhaling the scent of sun-warmed skin.  "You are beautiful," she whispered.

Megan looked up, her own hands instinctively untying Isalba's shirt and tugging it free from the pirate's waistband, her fingers slipping beneath and running lightly up Isalba's back as they continued to kiss.  "I have dreamed of this," Megan murmured.  "Your skin.  So soft."

"Have you?"  Isalba's body quickly reacted to Megan's light touch, and a deep chuckle bubbled up from her gut as she knelt down, removing Megan's boots and slowly pulling her trousers down, leaving Megan clad in her delicate underthings.  "Nice."  She played with a row of lace edging the low-cut curve of the material hugging Megan's breasts.  "Before I lose what is left of my senses, I need to take care of a few things."  She pecked Megan's lips several times in succession and stepped back.

"Do you need my help?"  Megan clasped her hands loosely in front of her, watching as Isalba unsaddled the horse and slung the tack over a thick, low-lying tree branch.

"I need you. And I want you."  Isalba grinned.  "But not for this.  There is a cave, over behind those falls. I am going to take our lunch and bedding over.  There is a path that goes behind  them over on the other side of the river. It is shallow here, so I will walk across, but I will return shortly."

"A cave?" Megan peered toward the series of waterfalls that fell over and down the rocks, pooling and falling again, forming terraces up above that ended in a wide, tall, waterfall closer to where they stood.  Squinting into the sunlight, she could see the edge of a dark space over to one side, mostly-hidden behind the rushing water.  "Is that where you are taking me?"

"Eventually."  Isalba began removing her own boots and trousers, and reached up, pulling her top over her head.  Neatly-folding her clothes, she tucked them beneath the saddle blanket and turned as Megan touched her on the arm, offering her own clothing over to be stowed away as well.  "You are a temptress." Isalba paused long enough to cup Megan's face, drawing her close for another dizzying kiss, the taste of honey from their morning tea still lingering on Megan's breath.

"Isa." Megan pressed her forehead against Isalba's chest, clutching feebly at two strong biceps.  "I meant what I said last night.  I had not had so much to drink that I did not know what I was saying."

"And I still very much want the gift you offer me."  Isalba tilted Megan's chin up.  "I want to be with you Meg, for as long as you will have me. Here." She grasped Megan's hands, kissing each one in turn. "Please. Finish undressing me."

"I — all your clothing?"  A deep pink blush dusted Megan's cheeks.

"It is time for that swimming lesson I promised you," Isalba advised gravely, her lips twitching with an uncontained smile.  "And many other lessons. So yes, all my clothing."

"Alright."  With nimble fingers, Megan worked at tiny buttons, unfastening both the undershirt and pantaloons Isalba wore.  Reaching up together, they both pulled the shirt off and pantaloons down, and Isalba stepped out of them as they fell to the soft sand beneath their bare feet.

"You — you are beautiful," Megan breathed, reaching up, hesitantly tracing Isalba's collar bone with both hands, then trailing down her biceps and pausing below two tempting breasts.  "Your bosoms — May I —?"  Running her hands lightly over pebbled flesh, Megan leaned close, planting a kiss on Isalba's upper chest, remembering their time on the beach and how much she had enjoyed similar attention.

"Goddess, yes."  Isalba groaned, closing her eyes. "You do not need a teacher." She smiled and opened her eyes again, reaching over and helping Megan remove the rest of the younger woman's underthings, smooth white skin revealed where clothing had protected her from the sun's tanning rays.  "Oh, my love, you are the one who is beautiful," Isalba spoke in quiet wonder. She pulled Megan close, both women whimpering as their bare skin made contact for the first time in an explosion of sensation.

They rocked slowly back and forth in a close, warm hug, the tropical breeze brushing across their skin and the sun shining warmly down upon them through the tall palm branches and heavy vines overhead.  It was bliss and Isalba sighed heavily, warring with the preparations she still needed to make and the desire to take Megan down to the sand where they stood.  Reluctantly, she pulled back, knowing sand and love-making did not mix well, and wanting Megan's first time to be soft and pleasant, with a platter of tropical fruit and a flask of wine nearby.  "I will be back as quickly as I can."  She touched the tip of Megan's nose, then slung the saddle bags across her shoulder and crossed the river with long, splashing strides, the water coming no higher at mid-stream than her thighs.

From the bank Megan watched, Isalba's swaying hips and the play of muscles intriguing her to no end.  Her long dark hair was flowing freely down her back, falling to just above two firm buttocks.  Megan's gut clenched in pleasant anticipation and she laughed, mocking her own self.  "If I ever had doubt as to the source of my butterflies, I need doubt no more."  The longing sensation was so strong, it was all she could do to not follow after Isalba, who had just disappeared between thick foliage on the far riverbank.

After several minutes, Megan saw Isalba appear just to the side of the far waterfall, and she gasped as the pirate leaped into the air and executed a daring dive into the pool below where she stood.  Surfacing, strong arms pulled steadily toward Megan, slicing the water as long legs kicked rhythmically, and Isalba stopped short and stood in water up to her hips, beckoning Megan to join her.  "The water is nice.  Just right," the pirate encouraged her, not that Megan needed any more incentive. Rivulets of water trickled down dark skin, around Isalba's cleavage, and dripping down her face, making her somehow even more visually appealing than she had been before.

With careful steps, Megan waded into the water, finding the current light and the temperature just right, as Isalba had promised it would be.  She felt suddenly shy and exposed, and quickly closed the distance.  As if in a dream, she felt the water rising until she was in up to her waist.

Isalba eagerly watched Megan approach, feeling the strong attraction between them. She had thought to break the ice with swimming lessons, easing Megan into comfort with contact between their naked bodies.  However, Isalba was fast discovering that Megan was her equal in desire, if not in experience.  The younger woman's eyes were all over her, causing Isalba's own desire to rise and stir, demanding satisfaction.

As Megan reached her, Isalba extended a hand and drew her close.  "To hell with swimming lessons," Isalba murmured, snaring Megan and devouring her lips, her appetite for the younger woman igniting as their bodies came together in the pleasant, running water.  Deepening the kiss, Isalba moaned softly as Megan opened up to her, imitating her movements, their tongues performing a slow, teasing dance together.

"Mmmmm," Isalba kissed her way across Megan's jaw and down the side of her neck, pausing to tease an earlobe and sample the salty skin in the hollow of her throat.  She could feel Megan's hands at her back, stroking and clenching, and Isalba's desire ratcheted up a notch, her hands dropping to engulf Megan's backside, which she kneaded, pulling Megan even closer.  "Wrap your legs around me," Isalba practically begged, lifting Megan, hefting her up to settle lightly around Isalba's hips.

Two firm, round breasts were now at eye level, and Isalba teased a circle with her tongue, around first one and then the other, then slowly took a nipple into her mouth.  Megan whimpered and then yelped, though Isalba knew it was from intense pleasure, only her tongue and lips sampling the sensitive flesh.  "Easy," she murmured.

"What — ahhhh."  Megan gave up speech, looking down in fascination at something she had not imagined Isalba doing. It felt good, the pleasure racing through her body, settling pleasantly between her legs.  Unable to think or even watch, she closed her eyes, as Isalba switched to the other breast and pulled Megan's lower body tightly against her, encouraging a slight, involuntary motion of Megan's hips. 

"Tengo que tocarte," Isalba whispered.  "I need to touch you."  Licking a full upper lip, Isalba slid one hand around and between them, trailing it along Megan's inner thigh and down between her legs, cupping her.  "Te siente tan bien contra mí."

"Ungh." A jolt of pure longing hit her and Megan smiled, her half-lidded eyes studying Isalba's expression, the blue eyes all soft and unfocused.  It was difficult to concentrate on words, her body wanting Isalba's hands all over her.  "I do not understand you."

"You feel so good against me," Isalba removed her hand and shifted, until her hip bone pressed against Megan, her hands guiding her in a slow grinding movement.

"Ahhhhhh."  Megan cried out, her body craving something she could not give voice to.  "Isa —" She clutched at Isalba's shoulders, helpless against the onslaught of sensation washing over her.

"I cannot wait. Tengo que hacer el amor con usted." She kissed Megan deeply.  "I need to make love to you."  Still holding Megan close, Isalba began paddling toward the waterfall, somehow keeping both their heads above water as it grew deeper.  Reaching a low rock ledge, she hoisted Megan up first, then quickly pressed herself up and over the edge, standing and helping Megan to her feet.  Pulling the younger woman close, Isalba tilted her head and kissed Megan slowly, turning them in languid circles, moving toward a pile of soft blankets over a bed of palm fronds she had hastily constructed earlier.

Lowering Megan down, she collapsed next to her, landing on her side and immediately reaching out, stroking Megan from head to foot, taking in soft, silky skin and the constant murmurs of pleasure escaping Megan's lips.  "Eres muy hermosa, mi amor."  Isalba shifted, hovering over Megan and bracing her weight on one hand, the other cradling Megan as Isalba kissed her for a long while, slipping a thigh between Megan's legs.  "You are so very beautiful, my love."

Megan eagerly kissed Isalba in return, the softness of their tongues playing together wonderful, causing pleasant shivers to race across her skin.  She wrapped both arms around the tall body, pulling Isalba close and urging her down until all that length of firm, soft skin and muscle was reclining against her.  She felt Isalba's knee, easing her legs apart, and Megan moaned, instinctively wanting the contact.  Feeling long fingers play at her belly, Megan sighed as those fingers moved lower, teasing her open, before a firm thigh pressed against her.  She cried out as Isalba began to slowly move back and forth, pressing against her and causing her cravings to intensify.

Isalba looked down at her, touching her face with one hand, then trailing down and circling a breast. "So lovely."  Isalba closed the distance, kissing her tenderly, her hand stroking her breast and then wandering down her side.  Slowly pulling back, blue eyes peered lovingly down at Megan and Isalba's hand slipped between them, her fingers replacing her thigh as she began gently stroking Megan.

"Ahhhhhh." At the first touch, Megan's body clenched and it was all she could do to hold on, all sensation spiraling down to one small place, then quickly radiating outward. "Isa — I —"

"Let the feelings take you, Meg."  Isalba nipped at the sensitive skin below Megan's ear, then suckled the earlobe.

"Are you — your fingers — ahh." Megan gasped.  "Is it going to hurt?" She gulped.

"Shhhhh."  Isalba kissed her lips and then her forehead.  "No. This first time I only want you to feel pleasure.  Do not be afraid, Meg.  Feel me touching you and allow your body to react to me.  Relax."

Isalba increased her pace, the stroking motions and kisses, and the light movement of her body against Megan's skin, all serving to drive the sensations higher. Megan felt as if she would explode if the longing she felt was not satisfied.  Holding on, she rose up slightly, burying her face into Isalba's shoulder and crying out as her body began to convulse, sweet release washing over her in wave after intense wave.

All she could do was hold onto the pirate's solid body, chest heaving for breath, Isalba whispering quietly into her ear in Spanish.  It did not matter that she could not understand a single syllable, the words served their purpose, grounding her as her mind and body fought to reconnect.  "Isa —"  Megan gasped softly.  "I never knew."  She finally opened her eyes.  "Now I understand why Beibhinn enjoyed — this." Megan smiled dreamily, feeling gentle caresses at her back, as Isalba held her close.  The taller woman was now lying on her own back with Megan in her arms pressed against her side.

"Shhhhh."  Isalba kissed her nose and then her lips, one hand trailing down Megan's thigh and curling into the crook of her knee, pulling her closer against Isalba.  "So beautiful," Isalba nuzzled Megan's hair.

"Isa."  Megan could feel herself, pressed against Isalba's hip bone again.  "I — " She blushed, reaching down and touching herself. "I — Isa?"

"Yes, you are very wet."  Isalba's eyes crinkled softly at the edges.  "It is your body preparing for my touch. Every woman reacts in the same way when she feels pleasure."

"Are you? —" Megan reached out and stopped short, unsure of herself.

"Oh, yes."  Isalba grasped the questing fingers and guided them down between her own legs.  "See?  My body reacting to your touch."

"Like this?"  Megan smiled shyly, mimicking Isalba's earlier attentions.

"Mmmm. Just like that," Isalba purred, her hand curled loosely around Megan's wrist, encouraging the tentative touch. "Just like that," she repeated, as Megan took her cue and increased her motions.

"I —" Megan's eyes grew wide with wonder, as Isalba began to whimper, a few Spanish words escaping her lips.  "This feels good?"

"Yes.  Muy bien."  Isalba pulled Megan closer and kissed her, her hips rocking slightly in time to Megan's steady stroking.  "Ah.  Me carajo."  Isalba bit her lower lip and closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them halfway.  "Fuck me," she gasped.

"Isa?"  Megan started to slow.

"No.  Please. Do not stop."  Isalba grasped her wrist again. "Yessss," she hissed, as Megan resumed her attentions.  "Ah, Meg." 

Megan felt Isalba clutching at her shoulders, uttering a low cry as she began to shake in much the same way Megan had a short time earlier.  Megan smiled, her heart full of joy that she was able to make Isalba feel as good as she had.

"Meg."  Isalba smiled lazily, her hands moving in gentle circles against Megan's back.  "That was so very nice."  She pulled Megan to her and kissed her, then simply hugged her tightly, rocking back and forth.

"I made love to you."  Megan rose up, just enough to search Isalba's very-satisfied face. Megan's own voice trembled slightly, and she closed her eyes as Isalba cupped the back of her head, urging Megan to rest against her shoulder.

"Yes. You. Did." Isalba sighed contentedly.  "Unexpected. And very much appreciated."

"I did it correctly?" Megan ran the flat of her palm in light circles against Isalba's belly.

"You did it perfectly," Isalba assured her.  "Rest now.  When we wake we shall eat lunch and then I will have you for dessert."

"And I you?" Megan questioned dreamily, her body already surrendering to pleasant lassitude.

Long arms circled her and Megan felt Isalba's lips brush across her forehead. "Absolutely," the pirate whispered into her ear.

Sighing in contentment, Megan closed her eyes, her arm wrapped firmly around Isalba's waist.  The taller woman pulled a light blanket over them and they drifted off to the music of the waterfall just outside the cave's entrance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A shaft of sunlight broke past the waterfall, washing softly over two tangled bodies.  Isalba blinked, careful not to stir too much.  Megan lay peacefully against her, her chest rising and falling slowly, a tiny smile curling her lips upward.  Long, blonde hair spilled over Isalba's torso and she lifted a lock of it, twisting it around her finger and letting it fall again. 

She still wasn't certain what their consummation meant going forward, and at the moment was too happy to think on it very hard.   Deep emotions ran through her, a gut-level desire to hold and protect Megan, an overwhelming sense of need that went well-beyond the simple affection she usually felt for women who shared her bed.  Sex for her usually meant an entertaining roll in the sack, or sometimes a place where she could safely act on her occasional need to drive and dominate — raw, animal instincts she harbored, which she had long ago come to terms with.

What she had shared with Megan had certainly been fun and satisfying, but it had touched her in a new and more personal way.  This was more than attraction and affection, though she certainly felt both for Megan.  She thought on that, and on her earlier ponderings of the complicated friendship they shared — a relationship they both had seemed almost helpless to avoid, as if something bigger than both of them drew them together.  Whether it was Allah, the Goddess, or some unexplainable phenomenon, she knew there was no turning back from the strings that were already binding her heart to the woman she held in her arms.

With a wry, quiet chuckle, she looked up at the cave's craggy ceiling in helpless realization.  She was, indeed, falling in love, whatever that meant.  Drawing in a long, slow, breath, she released it, along with her need to control every aspect of her well-ordered life.  This — it was beyond harnessing — her stomach even now fluttering and dancing with the bone-deep desire she felt for Megan.

"What are you laughing at?" Megan's sleepy voice reached Isalba's nearby ear, warm breath raising goose bumps on the pirate's bronzed skin.

"Myself."  Isalba shifted, until she was able to look into Megan's eyes.  "How foolish I was to think I could avoid my feelings for you."

"Oh."  Megan stretched, then curled herself back against Isalba's side, reaching out and rubbing a long arm with light, languid strokes.  "I am glad."

Isalba laughed again, her shaking sides vibrating against Megan's ribs and making the younger woman join in.  "I am glad you are glad."  She raked her fingers back through Megan's hair.  "So what we shared, it makes you feel good?"

"Mmmm." Megan smiled and trailed a fingertip up Isalba's arm, tracing the upper curve of a breast.  "It makes me feel wonderful."

Isalba ducked her head and met waiting lips, her hands wandering lazily along Megan's sides, stoking the fire, fanning it, and smiling against Megan's mouth as a low moan greeted her ears.  "Yes, you do.  Feel wonderful."  Sliding an arm between them, Isalba pressed a hand up between Megan's legs, enjoying the warmth and the tickle of soft curls against her palm.  "Me encanta tu coño.  I love your pussy." Her breath warmed Megan's ear, as she spoke low and sensually, her words needing no further explanation.

Megan immediately eased her legs apart, making room as Isalba rolled closer and settled between them.  "Isa —" Megan's lips parted with a hiss as Isalba began caressing her, her touch setting Megan's body on fire.

"Dame tu virginidad."  Isalba kissed Megan deeply.  "Give your maidenhood to me."

Megan whimpered and Isalba pulled back so Megan could see her face.  She smiled, her fingers still lightly teasing and touching, playing at Megan's desire. "Only if you are certain," she amended, her eyes crinkling at the edges.  "Once I take it, it is not something you can get back."

"I wish for it to be you." Megan reached down between them and circled Isalba's wrist, then lifted her hand and traced the pirate's full lips, gasping when Isalba took one finger into her mouth, running her tongue around it before she released it. "Only you," Megan added breathlessly.  "It will hurt?"

"A little, perhaps."  Isalba pushed a few strands of hair from Megan's face, kissing her forehead.  "I will do my best to minimize the pain.  I am going to do something you may find shocking."

"More shocking than nursing my bosoms?"  Megan grinned.

"Yes."  Isalba laughed lightly.  "I am going to kiss you."

"That no longer surprises me," Megan replied, as Isalba's mouth covered hers, teasing Megan's lips apart, even as the stroking between her legs intensified.

"It is where I am going to kiss you." Isalba pulled back, her eyes full of desire. She began planting a sensual trail of wet kisses down Megan's neck and around her breasts, suckling each nipple before she moved lower, nuzzling Megan's navel.  Megan's scent enticed her and she moaned, burying her nose in soft, blonde curls, before moving lower. "Hueles delicioso."

"Isa?"  Megan craned her neck, watching in fascination.  "You mean to —?"

"Oh, yes. I have been dreaming of this." Isalba's lips vibrated against Megan's tender skin in a deep, sexy laugh.  Inhaling her lover's perfume, she placed the most intimate kiss of all between Megan's legs.  "You are a banquet to me."  Isalba lifted her head, her eyes half-closed, her face radiating desire. With a low groan, she dove back in, her own body responding as Megan whimpered and placed one hand at the top of Isalba's head, stroking her hair.

"Isa —" Megan moaned, clutching helplessly at a lock of long, black hair, twisting it around her hand and playing with it, her other hand pressed against the blanket beneath her as an anchor.

Isalba looked up to see a pair of closed eyes, an expression of intense pleasure plastered across Megan's features.  "You are so very beautiful, Meg."  She continued her attentions, careful to pull back at intervals, just enough to keep Megan's desire piqued without taking her over the edge.  Slowly, she began kissing her way back up Megan's body, fingers replacing lips in easy, steady strokes.

"Ahhhh." Megan felt a flood between her legs, as Isalba flicked her tongue against a nipple, then closed the distance, kissing her lips again.

"Thank you for not holding back from me." Isalba smiled warmly.  "You taste yourself on my tongue? Like honey and spice."  She continued with the light, steady strokes, thinking for a moment.  What she was going to do needed to be done right, a clean, complete breaking.  She pressed three fingers tightly together and spread Megan wider, touching her intimately.

"Isa?" Meg felt the change, the pause in the strokes, and opened her eyes, green orbs searching Isalba's face for reassurance.

Isalba kissed her tenderly.  "Feel me kissing you, feel my body, sweetheart. Concentrate on the pleasure."  She kissed her way lower, taking a nipple into her mouth, using the intense sensation to take Megan's mind away from the fingers playing between her legs.  Switching to the other breast, Isalba eased inside with just her fingertips, her own body reacting strongly in sympathy.  "I love you, Meg."  With  one swift thrust, she pushed inside, past the thin barrier, then stilled.

Megan cried out, curling up and burying her face into Isalba's shoulder, her legs pressing against the pirate's hips as her body reacted, momentarily trying to reject the invasion.  Her fingernails dug into strong shoulder muscles and she whimpered, panting against Isalba's neck.

"Breathe," Isalba encouraged her, smiling and nuzzling Megan's neck, then kissing the sensitive skin.  She bit down slightly, still trying to distract Megan.  The younger woman gasped, and Isalba smiled, taking the small fold of skin between her teeth and then sucking it, leaving a small strawberry mark on Megan's creamy skin.  Megan's leg pressure eased against Isalba's sides, and soft walls slowly ceased to push against her fingers.

"So nice," Isalba purred, lifting up slightly and looking into Megan's eyes.  She began moving in and out with slow, easy strokes.  "Me encanta la manera en que te siente adentro," she leaned over, speaking directly into Megan's ear.  "I love the way you feel inside."

"Feels — queer," Megan gasped, then moaned as Isalba began to increase her pace.

"Am I hurting you?" Isalba tilted her head to the side, Megan's intense expression of pleasure hinting at the answer.

"N — no."  Megan managed to open her eyes. "Just feels — tight."

"Mmmmm, yes. So very nice." Isalba grinned, removing one finger. "Better?"

"Ohhhh." Megan moaned sensually.

"I take that as 'yes'."  Isalba kissed her, teasing and stroking, putting her body into her thrusting, groaning herself as Megan's hips began to rock in time to her movement.  "Such a gift." she murmured.

"Isa. Oh —" Megan moaned as her passion rose and her body reacted, her stomach muscles contracting strongly as she crested the wave, rising and then crashing into Isalba, holding on and riding it out until the pirate's motions eased and she pulled out, long fingertips now stroking a baby-soft inner thigh.

"Thank you, Meg."  Isalba scooted up, kissing Megan slowly, feeling her shaking with residual pleasure.  "I will always treasure what you have given me."

"You — said you love me," Megan gasped in surprised wonder.  Green eyes searched blue.

"I do." Isalba hovered over her, gently kissing Megan's cheek, rubbing noses with her and pecking her lips.  "Love you, with all my heart."

"I love you, too." Megan reached up, pulling Isalba against her, sighing as their bodies made full contact, the pirate's hips resting comfortably between Megan's legs. She wrapped her legs around Isalba's longer ones, holding Isalba tightly against her body, her arms around Isalba's shoulders.

Isalba shifted a little.  "Raise your leg, sweetheart."  Megan complied and Isalba groaned as a firm thigh pressed up against her.  Rising up, she braced her weight on locked arms and undulated in sensual contact against Megan's leg, moaning and closing her eyes.  It didn't take long, her pleasure quickly rising and washing over her.  While making love to Megan, Isalba's body had ridden close to the edge and now it reacted, taking her breath away with the intensity.  "Mmmmmmm." She landed lightly back down against Megan, feeling herself engulfed in a gentle, firm hug.

"I did not know." Megan whispered into Isalba's ear, kissing her neck and sending a pleasant shiver down the pirate's spine.

"Did not know what?"  Isalba lifted her head and rolled to her side, tucking herself against Megan and reaching out, cupping a breast and lightly teasing the nipple with her thumb.

"What my sister described, it was nothing like this," Megan spoke softly.  "I did not know there were so many different ways — to do this," she added shyly.

"Oh, and many more ways, mi amor." Isalba hefted the breast she held, squeezing lightly. "Many more."  She laughed lightly at Megan's surprised expression.

"That feels nice," Megan managed, her eyes soft in the sparse afternoon light that invaded their mostly-darkened space.

"You like that, eh?" Isalba trailed her fingertips in a circling pattern across Megan's chest, giving equal attention to the other breast.  Megan nodded and gulped, and Isalba released a throaty, low laugh.  "I like it, too."  Now that the frantic fiery need between them was banked, she slowed down, exploring, memorizing the dips and curves of Megan's body, the firmness of ribs against her fingertips, the soft indention at the juncture of her leg and body, the soft tickling of curls against the palm of her hand.

Megan's hands wandered in turn, and desire slowly rose and ebbed, back and forth with the younger woman's motions.  It felt so good, Isalba wanted to cry, her heart reaching out for something it had needed all her life.  "I want to do that to you," Megan curled over, kissing Isalba's belly.  "What you did to me."

"I fear my maidenhood is long gone."  Isalba chuckled, running her fingers through Megan's hair.

"No.  I want to taste you."  Megan paused, then rested her check against Isalba's flat stomach, peering up through the valley between her breasts, meeting blue eyes.  "Isa." She nuzzled warm skin, then met those eyes again.

"Yes?"  Isalba's hand stilled, curling between Megan's inner thighs, pondering the mental image of Megan's head between her legs.

"If you were in the tavern with someone you love, what would you do if someone like Arianna came and sat in your lap?"  Megan pursed her lips inward.

"Well —" Isalba reached across, smoothing a tiny frown between Megan's brows with her thumb.  "First of all, she would not be able to sit in my lap, because it would be occupied by the one I love."  The pirate smiled.

"But what if she wanted to take you upstairs?" Megan pursued the line of questioning, seeking an understanding of what was now between them.

"Oh, my love."  Isalba smiled, cupping Megan's cheek.  "She could never take me upstairs, not now.  Do you want to know why?"  Megan nodded uncertainly and Isalba traced a blonde eyebrow.  "Because you hold my heart."

"But you said it was merely two bodies coming together for pleasure.  That it did not require love," Megan pressed her.

"That is true," Isalba agreed.  "But I fear you have spoiled me."

"How so?"  Megan cautiously smiled.

Isalba mirrored her smile.  "I have dined at your table, Meg.  A feast I never dreamed possible.  To go back to Arianna — or any of those women — would be like choking on pig feed by comparison. Do not fear, my love."  Isalba shifted, until she was cradling Megan in her arms.  "My desire is for you.  Only for you." She kissed her soundly.  "I meant it.  I am yours, for as long as you will have me."

"What if I want you forever?" The words escaped before Megan could hold them in check.

"Then I am the luckiest woman on the seven seas," Isalba replied, pulling Megan close, as their passion rose once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Megan looked down at the cascade of water she was sitting in.  It tumbled down a slippery rock shoot, roaring and churning, pouring into the river below.  There was a ten foot drop from the bottom edge of the shoot and the water's surface.  Isalba had already navigated the slide several times for Megan's amusement, and in an attempt to prove to her that she wouldn't get hurt if she tried it.  Now Isalba stood in the water below the drop, arms outstretched, her fetching smile beckoning Megan to let go of the thick branch she held onto, which crossed over the shoot at a convenient height.

"Come on!" Isalba swept her arms wider.  "I promise I shall catch you.  I will not let you drown."

"I have only known how to swim for two hours," Megan reminded her of their afternoon swimming lesson, after lunch and a nap in the cave.  "I am not certain I shall remember what I have learned if I am terrified out of my mind."

"There is nothing to fear," Isalba reassured her.  "The water is only shoulder-deep, see?"

"For you," Megan chided her. "For me it is over my head."

"I will not let you sink," Isalba insisted.  "Let go!  Besides, you cannot stand up now, without falling down the shoot anyway."

Megan looked around her and realized Isalba was right.  She had shed her clothing, climbed up the dry rocks and over wet ones, then crab-walked to the top of the shoot and pushed herself along until she was just shy of the point where it began to drop severely.  As a test, she attempted to pull her feet back under her and crouch, but hit a mossy patch and landed on her backside, then began to slide down the shoot after all.

"Whooooaaaaa!" she whooped, as she sped past rocks and foliage, swept along by the spinning, foaming stream along the glassy-smooth, worn rock beneath her.   The river came rushing up and she thought she heard Isalba's voice, as she hit the surface and plunged beneath it, the water covering her head.  Before she had time to think about what to do, a pair of long arms engulfed her, lifting her up where she could breathe.  Laughing, she pushed her hair out of her eyes and wrapped her arms around Isalba's neck.  "That was fun!"

"See, I told you that you would enjoy it."  Isalba spun around in a circle, and Megan braced her hands on the taller woman's shoulders, giggling in delight as the warm air brushed across the wet, bare skin of her upper body.  Suddenly, Isalba lowered her and Megan automatically wrapped her legs around the pirate's waist, resting comfortably against her hips and stomach.  Their lips met in a kiss that made her more dizzy than the spinning had, and she sighed, closing her eyes and allowing the moment to consume her.

"Mmmmmm," Isalba murmured, carefully walking backward to shallower depths, just below the falls that blocked their cave.  As the water cascaded over them, she intensified the contact, thoroughly exploring Megan's mouth and lips, pulling her closer.  She came up for air and tipped Megan backward over her cradling arms, so the waterfall crashed down over her sensitized skin.  Megan gasped at the sensation, laughing again as Isalba pulled her close once more and began feasting on first one breast and then the other.

Lowering Megan to her feet, Isalba slipped a knee between her legs, grasping her backside as she pressed upward in a rhythmic pattern.  Megan held on, burying her face into Isalba's chest, muffling a moan of pleasure.  "You have made such a heathen of me," Megan mumbled.

"Are you complaining?" Isalba eased up on her attentions. "Do you wish for me to stop?"

"Noooooo," Megan protested, feeling Isalba re-double her efforts.

Isalba released a deep, throaty laugh.  "I thought as much."  She ducked her head, kissing Megan, caressing her body, and bringing her up and over the edge.  Megan whimpered and Isalba kissed her soundly, lifting her up into her arms and carrying her to shore, down the short path and across the ledge to their bed in the cave, where she deposited Megan, then crawled up next to her to continue their kisses.

Megan remembered what they had shared earlier and her desire rose, as she kissed her way between Isalba's breasts.  "I did not yet have you for dessert," she teased.

"That is because I had you instead," Isalba reminded her.  She placed one hand at the top of Megan's head, not pushing or guiding, but merely stroking, as Megan eased her way down the long body, slipping down between Isalba's legs.  She could feel strong muscles pressed against her shoulders, as she kissed first one inner thigh and then the other, mimicking the things Isalba had done to her earlier in the day.

A hand cupped her cheek and Megan looked up. Isalba's eyes were half-closed, her face full of desire.  Megan licked her lips and dipped down, tasting Isalba for the first time. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and continued, feeling Isalba's hand press slightly against her head, as if she were afraid Megan might stop. "Dios Mio," Isalba murmured, spreading her legs wider to give Megan more room.

Sensing that whatever she was doing, she was doing right, Megan continued, tasting and touching, teasing Isalba with her lips and tongue, reveling in the moans and whimpers she could both hear and feel.  " Tengo que sentir te dentro de mí."  Isalba grasped two of Megan's fingers, guiding her. "I want to feel you inside me, Meg."

Sighing in contentment, Meg complied, slipping inside and stroking Isalba deeply.  "Isa," she murmured, overcome with emotion.  She had seen so many sides of her pirate lover - anger, sadness, bravery, and  a whole range of moods.  Never had she seen Isalba like this — open and vulnerable, her body begging with non-verbal cues, panting, as her climax washed over her and she pushed up against Megan, riding it out, then pulling Megan into her arms to share a long, tender kiss.

"I think I shall keep you."  Isalba chuckled, tweaking Megan's nose, then kissing her again.  "Even if you never do that for me again."

"Oh."  Megan rubbed noses with her.  "I think I shall do it again, if you liked it."

"I loved it," Isalba corrected her, her expression growing sober.  "I love you, Meg.  I think I have loved you from that night we first met."

"I did not know," Megan commented, her voice full of wonder.  "I felt so much for you, but I did not understand that it was love, until recently.  I did not know what love felt like."

"I did not, either." Isalba rolled to her side and Megan rolled with her, so they were facing each other, legs tangled and bodies pressed together.  "I told you there are many ways to do what we have done."

"Yes," Megan answered. "Are there still more?"

"Oh, yes."  Isalba laughed lightly, then reached out, pushing Megan's still-wet hair back, playing with it.  "But I think today was the first day I did it with my heart.  I feel you, Meg, inside me.  It has not been so with any others."

"I feel you, too."  Megan closed her eyes, reveling in the closeness and warmth, Isalba's smooth  muscles and soft skin delicious against her.  She was, she realized, exhausted, but completely happy.  Four years.  She'd dreamed of the person now holding her, seeing Isalba's face in visions, wondering what it all meant.  Now — she nuzzled salty skin, kissing Isalba's shoulder, then snuggling close into her arms.  So this was the great mystery of life, this coming together, the give and take of it, the sharing of their bodies and their hearts, expressing things that could not be verbalized. 

"I shall be right back."  Isalba pushed away with a groan and rose, making her way to the fire she had built earlier, stoking it and adding more logs.  "It is dusk out. We will spend the night here and ride back down in the morning."  She re-joined Megan, pulling her back into her arms and tugging a blanket up over them.   With a smile, she sought out Megan's lips, nibbling lightly, then sighed in contentment, rolling to her back.

Megan draped herself against the long body, resting her head on a strong shoulder.  "I shall sleep well tonight."

"As shall I," Isalba agreed with her.  "You have worn me out, Meg."

"I?"  Megan gave a little slap to Isalba's bare hip.  "You have ravished me twice as many times as I have you."

"Exactly."  Isalba kissed her on the tip of her nose.  "But if you would care to make it up to me after we rest a while, I would not try to stop you."  She grinned evilly.

"Are you challenging me, now?"  Megan laughed, rubbing Isalba's belly.

"No, merely making a suggestion," Isalba replied.  "Rest now, Meg.  Darkness falls." She tilted her head to the side listening, as the wind rose.  "Smell the rain?"

Megan inhaled deeply, sorting through the mix of scents surrounding her — the wood smoke of the fire, Isalba's warm skin, the remainder of the fruit and dried venison in a nearby wooden bowl, and the musky sweet scent of their joining.  Sniffing lightly, she singled it out - the green, bruised smell of rain-washed foliage and damp, sandy soil.  "Yes. Will it storm?"

"I think so." Isalba idly stroked Megan's back with one hand.  "I could see clouds building beyond the tree tops, when we were playing in the water falls.  But do not worry.  I have ridden out storms here before.  We are high enough above the river.  Any runoff will wash over the falls and flow downstream past us.  I left the horse untied.  He will have the sense to move to higher ground, if need be."

"How do you keep so many thoughts in your head all at once?"  Megan made a figure eight pattern with her fingertips, circling Isalba's breasts.  "You think of everything.  The fire.  This bed.  The horse and our safety.  The food and wine you packed.  Even a change of clothing for us to wear tomorrow."

"I do not know.  It is just what I do.  Isalba lifted strands of Megan's hair, allowing them to fall slowly, sifting through her fingers.  She shrugged a little.  "I have been taking care of myself since I was ten years old.  Covington and the men did their best to look after me, but the truth is that I was mostly on my own.  It was up to me to see to it that I was dressed and washed and that no one cheated me out of my share of food and drink.  If the ship were in peril, it was every man — and woman — for themselves.  I had to learn survival skills."  She kissed Megan's head.  "You have not done so badly yourself, in the short time you have been on my ship."

"You think?"  Megan eased up her teasing strokes, her hand resting lightly at Isalba's waist.

"Absolutely," Isalba praised her.  "Even way back when we met, you were resourceful, Meg, finding that axe you used to free me.  But in the past few months, you have blossomed.  I have watched you and with each passing day you have learned more, done more.  You are every bit a member of my crew.  I would keep you on board, even if we did not become lovers."

"Really?"  Megan smiled, soaking up the praise.

"Really," Isalba responded.  "You have proven yourself a valuable member of my crew.  Those of the men who have taken the time to pay attention — you have earned their respect.  You can hold your head up on my ship.  You pull your weight every day, and then some."

"That makes me feel good," Megan answered softly.  "You make me feel good."  She craned her neck upward, seeking out Isalba's tempting lips, sampling them and smiling against them as Isalba eagerly kissed her in return.  "This feels good, does it not?"  Megan settled back down into Isalba's warm embrace.

"Nothing has ever felt better," Isalba replied, hugging her close.  "Sleep, Meg.  We shall ride out at dawn."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Chapter 16

 

"Meg, wake up."  Isalba gently shook the sleeping body in her arms.  "Come on, love, we must get dressed."

"I am sleeping," Megan protested, burrowing deeper down into their warm nest.

"No more sleeping."  Isalba pulled the blanket back, allowing a damp breeze to blow across their bare skin.

"That was most unkind." Megan pushed up enough to peer into Isalba's firelit eyes.  "It is dark. Why must we get up now?"

"Because I lied to you." Isalba eased from beneath her and stood.  "I have been up three times now. You slept through my rising."

"What lie?" Megan sat up, grabbing the blanket and pulling it around herself, only to have her clothing tossed in her lap.

"Put these on. We must leave." Isalba busily tugged on her own trousers and boots, tucking in her shirt.  "I am glad I brought these in to keep them dry.  Not that they are going to stay dry for very long."

"I do not understand." Megan stood nonetheless, blinking until she could see better, and began pulling on her clothes.  The breeze increased, blowing cold rainy spray across the cave. Outside a storm was raging, the waterfall roaring as it crashed down to the river below.  "It is raining something fierce."

"That was my lie," Isalba informed her. "I have ridden out thunderstorms here, but this has the feel of a typhoon."

"Typhoon?"  Megan was awake now, thinking of such a storm that had rolled over Chincoteague a few years earlier.  "Would it not be safer to stay in here until it passes?"

"It would," Isalba agreed with her, "If not for the fact the river is rising faster than it can flow downstream.  This cave will start filling with water shortly. We must get across the ledge out there to land before it is covered."

"Oh."  Megan sped up her dressing activities, then began packing up their things.

"Leave all of that." Isalba waved her off.  "I will be wearing my weapons. We do not need to be burdened with a blanket and picnic basket."

"What about this lovely saddle?" Megan touched the soft, tanned leather.

"Horse is gone.  That is what first woke me.  He came tearing across the river, whinnying and snorting, and tore up hill from here into the woods. Good thing, that."  Isalba buckled her sword's scabbard in place.  "When I rose to see what was wrong with him, I saw the river. 'Tis lapping at the edge of this place even now."

"Oh."  Megan eased closer to the cave's opening and her eyes grew wide. The gentle stream had grown to an angry, churning shoot of water, cascading away into the darkness.  Over to the side, the once-tame falls they had played in earlier had joined together to form one wide, pouring tributary, filling the already-swollen river.  Rain fell in sheets and the trees whipped in the wind, some of them bending over nearly sideways. "Isa, where are we to go?"

"Uphill." Isalba grabbed a length of rope from the saddlehorn and secured it to her belt.  "Hopefully we shall find the horse, but find him or not, we must get away from this river before it overflows its banks."  Shoving a few more odd supplies into pockets, she made her way to the narrow space that led to the ledge.  "Meg." She beckoned, and Megan turned her back on the falls and joined her.

"You must press your back tightly against the wall. It will be slippery, see?" Isalba pointed toward the narrow footpath, the river doing its best to lick away what little rock was still visible.  "Take my hand."  Isalba stepped out first, hugging the wall.

Megan reached over, warm fingers taking a firm grasp of her wrist.  The rock was rough, snagging at her blouse, and she felt as if she were skating on ice, her feet unstable as they began to slowly cross the two dozen feet from the cave to the bank.  Rain beat against her face and she felt it dripping down her nose, tickling it and making her want to sneeze.

"Halfway there," Isalba  encouraged her. "Easy.  Take it slow."

"I am," Megan's heart was hammering in her chest, the river now lapping at the toes of her boots.  She leaned over slightly to see where the bank was, and at that moment, her boot slid over a crack in the rock and she lost her balance.  Faster than she could think, the water came rushing up at her, as she fell, head first into the rapids, water rushing into her mouth as she gasped in surprise. Then, just as quickly she felt a hand wrap around her ankle and another grab her waistband, and then she was flying through the air, arms flailing, and feet kicking, before she landed solidly on the grassy bank, stomach down.

It knocked the wind out of her and all she could do was pant, gasping for air, trying to make sense of what had happened.  "Are you alright?"  a worried, deep voice burred in her ear, and Megan nodded, still unable to speak.  "Thank the goddess."

Isalba flopped back next to her, also out of breath.  Looking over, she reached out and touched Meg's face, pushing wet, plastered locks from her eyes.  "Next time I tell you to hug the wall, please to do so?" Isalba hollered over the din of the raging storm.

"I am sorry!"  Megan yelled in return, then rolled over, finally able to speak.  "Thank you for catching me."

"Thank you for not falling in," Isalba responded.  "I was not looking forward to diving in after you."

"You would have done that?"  Megan eased closer, heedless of the rain pouring down on them, until she could see the lingering fear in Isalba's eyes.

"Yes."  Isalba closed the distance and pecked her on the lips.  "Come, Meg."  She stood, drawing Megan to her feet.  "Look, our ledge is gone."

"We were almost trapped."  Meg looked past her to the river, which was now flowing past the wall.  "I would not be able to swim in that."

"No one would," Isalba replied.  "Too close  a call for my liking.  Be warned.  Once we clear the rest of this rock, the wind will be much stronger. Do you hear it?"

"Yes."  Megan's throat was already starting to feel scratchy and tired from the need to yell to be heard.

Isalba moved closer and held her to her side, speaking more quietly due to their nearness.  She unloosed the rope she had taken and tied it around her waist, then let out a bit of line and wrapped it around Megan's waist as well, tying them securely together with a length of loose rope between them.  "I will break the path ahead of us.  Stay close behind me and hunker down.  If you start to lose your footing, grab hold of the rope and give it a tug so I will know I need to slow.  If you need help, tug extra hard."

"Alright."  Megan waited for Isalba to turn, then followed after her, watching and trying to use the same foot and hand-holds, as they worked their way up the bank along the rocky outcropping that jutted out from the cave.  Water was running downhill over their feet as they walked and the going was tenuous, with slippery, loose gravel tumbling down over their boots and causing both of them to stumble from time to time.  Finally they reached the end of the wall and rounded it, into the less-protected jungle.

As Isalba had warned, the wind howled around them, whipping through the trees and plastering wet clothing even more tightly against Megan's body.  Rain pelted her from all sides and the nearby river continued to roar.  They passed a thermal pool, its wispy steam floating past them and obscuring their path.  She felt Isalba's steps slow and Megan followed suit, waiting patiently as Isalba guided them through the misty trees and around boulders, taking them higher and closer to what she assumed was the center of the Island.  She remembered seeing it, rising like a hill out of the sea.

They kept walking, moving farther away from the river and into thicker woods.  Rain and wind ripped leaves and debris from the trees, pelting them with it.  Megan wished she had a hat, then felt a long arm snare her and then she was snuggled against Isalba's side as they continued to make their way uphill.  "We can go slower here," Isalba yelled.  "I wanted to get away from the river in case of flash flooding, but I believe we are far enough now, it is safe."

Megan merely nodded, grateful for the shelter of Isalba's body.  The taller woman continually reached out, batting wind-propelled objects away from them.  Suddenly Megan felt Isalba jerk and pull her to the side, as a branch heavy with coconuts crashed down next to them.  "Too bad we cannot gather those to take with us," Megan lamented.

"We should take a few," Isalba reached down and broke two of the hard fruits free, handing one to Megan.  "You carry one and I shall carry the other. Hold onto me with your free hand."

"No argument from me."  Megan cradled her coconut against her and wrapped her hand securely around Isalba's belt.  "Can we not get coconuts when we return to town?"

"Yes, but we may need to take shelter for a while first, if we can find it.  These may become our next meal," Isalba informed her.  

"Oh."  Megan pondered that.  "Isa, we had a typhoon on Chincoteague once.  It lasted for several hours.  Is this storm like that?"

"I do not know." Isalba steered them through a narrow space.  "Perhaps.  I have been through storms that took two days to completely blow over.  You do not wish to ride one of these out on the sea."

Megan shivered, just thinking about being on a tossing ship in such a storm.  "I hope I shall never find out firsthand."

" 'Tis why I stay close to the coastline when possible."  Isalba pushed a branch aside and they both dodged around it.  "Sometimes on crossings it cannot be avoided, but I prefer to go ashore for storms when we are able."

"Isa, where are we going?"  Megan was growing weary of the battering rain and wind.  "Other than uphill, I mean.  Do we have a destination in mind?"

"I do, if it is still where I remember."  Isalba pointed up ahead.  "Back through these trees, there once lived a voodoo queen.  She taught me her healing arts."

"I remember you speaking of voodoo when we first met."  Megan reached up, wiping her own face with her sleeve.

"Ah, yes.  It is when I learned your mother practices the old ways." Isalba smiled in memory.

"She does not so much anymore."  Megan stepped over a log across the path.  "My parents did their best to blend with the neighbors, and became loyal church-goers. But she does still use the healing herbs and observes some of the holidays of the goddess, behind closed doors. We did not wish to be hanged for heresy."

"Smart family," Isalba commented.  "Such a closed-minded place, you grew up in. In that your island and Spain are alike."

"You rescued me from that, you know."  Megan gave her a little pat on the hip her hand was pressed against.

"You rescued me first," Isalba reminded her, hugging her a little closer. "Ah, there it is."  She pointed toward a low thatched hut beneath the trees.  "Queen Tia's house.  She nursed me through the fever only a month before I met you."

"She is royalty?" Megan squinted through the heavy rain at the shabby little dwelling.  "Does not seem like much of a castle."

"In her homelands she was a tribal queen," Isalba informed her.  "She is from Africa, across the waters.  Here, she is a healer to the tribal people who are scattered across the island. Come, let us see if she will offer us shelter until the storm passes."

They approached the hut and Isalba opened its front door a crack, poking her head inside.  "Tia? Are you here?" 

No answer was forthcoming, and they entered, emerging from the storm into a cozy room where the remaining embers of a fire burned in a pit in the middle, its smoke rising and escaping through a hole in the thatch overhead, which appeared to have a raised thatch cover that held the elements at bay.  The wind shook the small building, but looking around, Megan saw thick weathered thatch bound tightly to heavy bamboo poles, which were driven solidly into the ground that comprised the hut's dirt floor. Despite the storm outside, there was not a single crack to allow even a breeze into the room.

A low moan emerged from behind a curtained doorway, and Isalba quickly pulled it back and looked past it.  "Tia?"  She disappeared and Megan heard low murmuring, as Isalba exchanged words with someone who spoke with a strange accent.  Isalba peered back into the main room. "Tia is here. She is very ill."

"Can we help her?"  Megan closed the distance, peering into the darkened room at Isalba's back.

"She has a few herbs mixed up on her bed table, but she is old, Meg, and confused.  She does not have everything she should be taking.  It is my turn to nurse her to health, if I am able."  Isalba crossed to the fire and poked at it with a long stick, stirring it until the embers glowed more brightly.  See if you can find dry wood in the pile outside the door.  You will need to dig beneath the logs on top."

"Of course."  Megan ducked back out the front of the hut, head down into the wind, and leaned over the wood pile, removing its top layer and gathering an armload of the short, dry logs beneath.  Quickly moving back inside, she dropped the wood beside the fire and began feeding it, first with smaller twigs from a basket and then as flames erupted, she carefully built the fire up.

Across the room, Isalba was rummaging through shelves filled with all manner of bottles and vials, gathering a few and mumbling to herself, shaking her head and fretting as she sniffed at first one container and then another. "She has not kept up with her labeling," the pirate complained.  "I am forced to identify her potions by scent."

"You can do that?" Megan asked in amazement.

"After a fashion."  Isalba moved to a table and emptied a few vials into a deep bowl, then poured water from a pitcher over its contents and used a stone mortar to crush fresh herbs and mix them with the liquid.  "I studied with her off and on for an entire season, before I was introduced to the fruits of the brothels here. It was how I passed many evenings where I would have been left alone, otherwise."

"I keep learning more of your story," Megan mused.  "You have lived the share of many lives, Isa."

"I have lived the life of a pirate," Isalba corrected her, a grin tugging at her lips.  "Oh.  Here." She tossed a shift at Megan. "I found us some dry clothing.  We can hang ours up near the fire, while I take care of Tia."

"Thank you." Megan waited until Isalba's attention was on the herbs once more, then quickly sniffed at the bright-hued material. To her relief, it smelled clean, of some fresh herbal soap, and she gratefully shimmied out of her wet things and pulled the clean, dry material over her head. As it fell past her eyes, she looked up, to see Isalba's admiring gaze on her.

"I am still not used to this."  Isalba quickly shed her own clothing and pulled a similar shift over her head, then crossed the room and pulled Megan to her, sampling her lips for a moment.  "I see you naked, and it does things to me."  She smiled lazily.  "But I will have to put those thoughts aside for a while, until I tend to Tia and get us back to town."

Licking her tingling lips, Megan looked up at her.  "Can I do anything to help? Should I make some tea, perhaps try to cook some food?"

"That would be splendid." Isalba reluctantly left her side to resume mixing herbs. "There is a loaf of bread here, fairly fresh.  And some vegetables in a bin in the corner.  Maybe a broth she could eat?"

"I shall get on it." Megan hung up their wet clothes, then made herself busy, digging through and selecting potatoes, carrots, and some odd roots she was unfamiliar with, glad of something to do while Isalba disappeared behind the mysterious curtain once more.  She found a knife and chopped up the stew fixings, then tossed them into a deep, round pot, and poured some water over it from a pitcher.  Next to the bread, she found a bundle and unwrapped it, revealing some dried meat, which she also chopped up and tossed into the soup.  Soon, she had the mixture simmering over the fire, the pot hanging from a spit over the fire pit.  Closer to the pit's edge, she set a kettle of water to boil for tea, and then took a seat on a cushion on the floor, leaning against a pole, as there were no chairs in the room.

"That stew smells good. It will be nice and warm, going down."  Isalba emerged from the back room, her expression grave.  "She is not well at all, very weak.  She does know who I am, but she is confused about the storm outside, and you."

"Me?"  Megan made room, as Isalba took a seat next to her and they snuggled up together.

"She knows there is a stranger in her home, and wants to know who you are."  Isalba kissed Megan's forehead, and pulled her head down to her shoulder.  "I told her you are mi esposa bella."

"What does that mean?"  Megan cuddled up to Isalba's side, idly watching the fire glowing between the burning logs.

"My beautiful wife."  Isalba chuckled.  "It was the easiest way to explain your relationship to me, so she would not worry at your presence.  She would like to meet you, after she has slept for a while."

"Your wife?" Megan looked up in surprise.

"It is what you are to me, in my heart." Isalba smiled and kissed her.  "If I could marry you, I would."

"I — I would like that," Megan replied quietly.  "To think how close I came to marrying someone I do not love." She shivered a little.  "I would have missed — this — the things I feel for you.  It would have been a poor substitute."

Isalba blushed a little, her cheeks pink in the firelight.  "I am glad you feel such things, Meg.  My regret is I cannot give you what you would have had with Patrick.  The stability of a home on your own land."

"Your ship is my home," Megan protested.  "And you are my family.  The crew my brothers.  I have no regrets, Isa.  There is nothing back there that could compare to what I have with you."

In answer, Isalba drew her into a kiss, ending in a tangle of arms and legs, as they hugged each other close, staring into the fire as the stew cooked.  Megan poured two cups of tea and they sipped in companionable silence, as the storm outside raged on, rattling the hut and rustling the thatch roof overhead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Isalba awoke from dozing and peered around the room, disoriented for a moment.  Remembering where she was, she looked down at Megan's pale head, still resting against her shoulder.  At that moment, the younger woman stirred and drew in a low, wheezing breath.  Isalba frowned, tilting her head and listening. Megan's breathing had become labored, obvious congestion hindering her.  "Not good," the pirate mumbled.  Carefully, she eased from beneath Megan, who muttered an incoherent protest.

"Easy."  Isalba looked around the room and gathered up a few folded blankets.  Using one for a pillow, she lifted Megan's head and slipped it beneath her, then covered her with the other blanket.'

"My throat hurts," Megan responded in a sleepy, gravelly tone.

"I fear you are catching the chills." Isalba moved to the fire, stirring the stew and dipping up two cups full.  "Are you able to sit up and drink this?"

"I —" With some effort, Megan pushed herself up.  "Yes."  She accepted the warm mug, sipping at the vegetable stew, which was mostly tasteless thanks to her stuffy nose.  "Feels good to my throat."

"Good." Isalba stood and collected the other mug.  "I am going to go see if I can get Tia to eat.  I will be back to you shortly."

"I am fine." Megan drew in a breath and coughed.  "For the most part, fine," she corrected herself.  "Take care of Tia. She is in worse shape than me."

With a grim smile, Isalba knelt down and caressed Megan's cheek, then stood again and disappeared behind the curtained doorway to Tia's sleeping cubbyhole.  Megan heard a low, pained groan, followed by Tia's voice, her accent so thick that Megan couldn't understand her.  Or maybe her ears were clogged up.  Shivering, she set her half-drained mug aside and nestled down beneath the warm blanket that covered her.  Luckily it was not cold outside, or perhaps not so luckily, since now dry and inside the fire-warmed hut, she should not be shivering.  "I am not growing ill," she admonished herself. "I am not." Another cough racked her and she sighed in frustration, closing her eyes and listening as the storm continued to rage outside.

In the other room, Isalba sat down cross-legged beside Tia's pallet and reached out, touching the old woman's forehead.  "You have the fever," Isalba informed her of the obvious. "Here, I have some stew. Drink."  She reached beneath Tia's shoulders and lifted her up enough so the soup would not spill, and held the mug to her lips.

Tia took a few sips and then pushed at Isalba's wrist, indicating she was done.  "No."

"That is not much."  Isalba held the mug to her lips again in encouragement.  "When did you last eat?"

"My son."  Tia looked up, the whites of her eyes ochre.  "Before the storm he came to take care of me."  She coughed, wiping her sleeve across her lips to remove spittle, and continued.  "Two sleeps ago."

"Three days?"  Isalba tilted the mug up a little. "Please, Tia.  You need to eat for your strength."

"My days are numbered," the voodoo queen replied.  "I am no longer able to get around."

"What?"  Isalba studied her face, her cheeks hollow and her features gaunt.  "But once you are well —"

"My hip.  Broken last year," Tia informed her. "Cannot walk downhill to carry water from the river. My son —"

"Why has he not moved you to his home?"  Isalba's voice rose in anger.

"The church  — the monastery.  Near where he lives.  They do not care for the likes of me."  Tia laughed bitterly.  "I will not stay with him. They would burn him out.  Already, they watch him night and day.  His children live in fear."

"But many on this island practice your ways," Isalba protested.  "They have always lived in harmony."

"The church grows stronger," Tia replied.

"But they leave the brothels be. I do not understand." Isalba set the mug aside when it became obvious Tia was done eating.  "Surely they find those to be as wicked as voodoo."

"They fear your kind." Tia smiled.  "They fear the sword and pistol.  They do not fear the unarmed."

"But you are armed.  Your magic — you could curse them."  Isalba lifted a hand helplessly and let it fall.

"They harbor children.  I will not curse the innocent."  Tia shook her head.  "And I will not put my son and his family in danger.  No. I will remain here."

"You will not."  Isalba's blue eyes flashed in anger.

" 'Salba —" Tia grasped her arm, giving it a feeble squeeze.  "Do not act rashly on my behalf."

"Rash, my arse," Isalba responded.  "Do not worry for me.  I have much more power than I did when last we saw one another.  I am captain now, Tia.  Covington died in a shipwreck.  I have my own ship and crew."

"And you have love," Tia added, her fevered eyes twinkling.  "It shines on your face."

"I do," Isalba answered quietly.  "She is out in your main room now.  She — Tia, she seems to be growing ill.  We had to walk a ways in this storm and I fear she grew chilled."

"You know the herbs to use." Tia searched her face and Isalba nodded in response.  The old woman then closed her eyes and grew still for a very long moment.  Opening them, she smiled.  "She will be fine.  You will of course be afraid for her.  It is only the natural way with one you love.  But she will be well again.  Do not worry."

"Thank you."  Isalba touched Tia's head, smoothing the thin hair back.  "You will be well again, too."

"Maybe." Tia sighed wearily.  "Maybe not.  I have seen many things, 'Salba.  Traveled a long way from my home.  Escaped slavery with the sugarcane only because of my magic.  They feared me too much to hold me hostage. And they left my family alone until the past few years.  Now they grow bold.  Perhaps it is best if my time comes soon, for the sake of my family."

"No."  Isalba's voice dropped, low and dangerous.  "You hold strong, Tia.  Do not give up on this life yet.  Will you promise me that?"

"I cannot."  Tia closed her eyes.  "But I will accept your care while you are here.  It is the best I can do."

"Fair enough."  Isalba reluctantly stood.  "I must tend to Meg, but I will bring you some hot tea soon."  A faint nod from Tia was her answer, and she pushed the curtain aside, to find Megan sitting near the fire, tending to the tea pot, the blanket wrapped around her.  "You should be lying down," Isalba admonished her.

"My lungs feel better sitting up," Megan responded. "And the tea is strong enough I can smell it.  The steam eases my breathing."  Another cough shook her and she doubled over, bracing herself against the floor with one hand until it passed.

Isalba was at her side in an instant, her hand against Megan's forehead.  "You are warm.  Do you feel cold?"

"A little."  Megan replied.

"Here."  Isalba took the mug from her hand and filled it with tea, drizzling some honey into the steaming brew.  She leaned back against a support post and patted her chest.  "Rest against me. I will keep you warm."

Megan scooted back, reclining against Isalba's chest, sighing with relief as the pirate pulled the blanket over both of them and formed a nest of her legs around Megan.  Isalba held the tea cup up and Megan reached out with one hand, steadying it as she drank, the warm, sweet liquid heating her up from the inside.  "Thank you." She leaned back again, closing her eyes and soaking up their shared body heat.

"Rest now."  Isalba placed the cup on the floor beside them.  She hesitated, then continued.  "I should get some herbs in you before you fall asleep."

"No."  Megan turned her head, opening her eyes and looking up.  "This feels so nice.  Please let me sleep for a while, first.  Just an hour or so?"

"Very well," Isalba reluctantly conceded.  "But if you start to cough too much, I will need to get up."

"No coughing." Megan closed her eyes, feeling a tickle at her throat and swallowing several times to hold it at bay.  "How is Tia?"

"Not so good."  Isalba  reached down, tucking the edges of the blanket beneath them.  For her it was a little too warm, but she could feel Megan relaxing against her and would have suffered a heat wave if it would mean Megan would be more comfortable.  "But she can be stubborn when she wants to be.  If she will only hold on long enough, I am going to see to it that she is better cared-for in the future."

"Always taking care of people, are you not?"  Megan mumbled sleepily, giving a little pat to Isalba's leg.

"Who, me?"  Isalba laughed lightly.  "Very few people would say such a thing, my love."

"Then I am one of the few."  Megan turned on her side, burrowing against Isalba and letting out a little grunt of contentment.  "I like it when you call me that — 'my love.'  It sounds nice.  You are nice."  She closed her eyes, a smile playing at her lips.

"I am no such — thing —" Isalba trailed off, feeling Megan limp against her, as sleep quickly claimed her.  "Typical woman.  Will not let me argue with you, will you?" she whispered.  "Fight this, Meg. Do not let it grow worse."  Wrapping both arms around Megan, Isalba stared into the fire, watching the embers glowing red, the heat waves hovering beneath the stew pot, distorting her vision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

continued...

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