In the duration of weeks to come, Ginelle found herself the topic of all gossip throughout the ton. During her time spent at Ashford, she had purposely avoided making contact with civilization outside the plantation. She was painfully aware of their hard stares and turned-up noses. They knew very little about her and she intended to keep it that way to remain hidden from Pierino. If the ton knew of her lowly status, they would not accept her as Eloise's ward. They would scorn her. They were nothing like Eloise. They all were mere puppets that dangled from the strings of society standards.

She grew wary of their loquacious chatter. Dorian had given word to several companions with loose tongues that his 'ward' had reached an agreeable age for marriage and there would be a banquet to launch her coming of age. This made her extremely fearful for what if all this immense gossip reached Pierino? If would not be difficult to track her whereabouts.

Pierino was quite familiar with social gatherings. He had attended many events simply to pick the pockets of those he secretly envied. He found it amusing to steal them blind while at the same time portraying a wealthy patron. She knew it all to be a farce façade. He enjoyed the hunt which made her believe he would not give up so easily on his pursuit in finding her.

The preparations for the banquet had been left to Lucile. She was keenly aware of Dorian's absence. He seemed to hoard everything off onto the housekeeper but she seemed not to care in the least for it was a great distraction from the grief she suffered at Eloise's loss.

Ginelle was entirely against the ordeal to come. It took every ounce of will power she possessed to continue with the arrangement. It could potentially ruin everything and jeopardize her wellbeing.

Ginelle was stunned one morning to find that she had several suitors waiting at the door; each eager to look at the woman that was the talk of gossip. All that Eloise had taught her about the proper ways of courtship forced her to endure their company. She pasted a smile on her face as each caller spoke of nonsense that was meant to impress her.

It was not all horrid as she had imagined. Some of the men were charming and respectable but her wariness of men kept her focused on her initial plan. As the time drew near for her banquet, the barriers she had built against the suitors that came to court her were steadily falling. As a child she had fancied marriage for is she was to marry why not marry for love? But those were the days when she could dream and nothing harmed her.

Though she was quite certain nothing could waver her from her decision, she was beginning to question her motives. Did she really want to live a lonely life? Eloise had been lonely and the grief she had suffered had nearly been her undoing. Yet, could she really succumb to love and risk her heart? Risk everything as she has done before only to be left alone with that heavy hole in her chest?

This stream of thoughts continued to run through her mind when a visitor came to see her. She was seated in the parlor with a book in her hand when Lucile appeared in the door to announce her visitor. Sighing to herself, Ginelle set the book aside and stood to greet another suitor whose presence she would have to endure for the next hour.

Ginelle was struck nonplussed as a man appeared with Lucile. Immediately, her eyes assessed his tall, slender frame equipped in an elaborate dark blue waistcoat. His long legs were dressed in fitting, black breeches and his feet adorned with riding boots fastened with silver buckles.

His hair was the color of wheat, short and cropped around his forehead. His complexion was neither pale nor dark but just the right medium tone to accentuate his hazel eyes. The bones of his face were sharp yet elegant and she found herself comparing this man to that of a dangerous laird whose eyes were cold like the artic sea and his skin dark from the sun. She shivered as Dorian's looming frame came to mind. The man standing before her was nothing like Dorian and for that single thought alone she presented the man with a smile.

His eyes were soft and warm as he smiled in return and she found him engaging. His smile was pleasant and inviting as he stepped forward to take her outstretched hand and gently pressed a kiss to her knuckles. She expected her body to react and shrink away in revulsion as she had done with the others but she was surprised when she did not.

She had been so absorbed in her assessment of this charming stranger standing in front of her that she had not heard Lucile's announcement.

Sensing her thoughts, the man smiled. "Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance, milady. I am Nathaniel Sharp. I hope tis not too bold of my visit but I could not help but wonder if the rumors were true."

Ginelle blanched, "The rumors, Sir?" she felt the maddening pace of her heart and wondered exactly what the ton had been saying.

A dashing smile stretched across his lips as if to reassure her. "Many spoke of your exquisite beauty." The lilt of his voice was smooth and rich, a lot like chocolate.

She stiffened, expecting him to lavish her with compliments that did little but annoy her just as the others had done. The men who had come to call upon her had not been interested in her; they were merely interested in her supposed dowry. The suitors had varied from those with protruding bellies and gray hair to young lads whose eyes didn't stray far from her bosom.

Yet, the man standing before her appeared far different than her previous visitors. She sensed a kindness in him that settled her nerves. He had a gentle nature that was comforting and yet she sensed his self-confidence. He was indeed a handsome man.

Lucile suddenly appeared with a porcelain tray of tea and crumpets. Ginelle groaned inwardly for she was beginning to dislike the unsweetened bread that seemed to be a continuance with each caller. Ginelle motioned Mr. Sharp to the chair opposite of her own and accepted the tray from Lucile. She and the housekeeper exchanged glances but whatever Lucile intended to say was left unsaid as the older woman spared a glance at Mr. Sharp and than quietly left the room.

"I pray, Mr. Sharp that you do not waste your time with gossip." Ginelle said very adamantly as she set the tray between them and took her seat.

A corner of his mouth lifted in amusement at her remark, "You do not concern yourself with garrulous chatter, milady?"

"Nay, I do not." She said firmly.

"Are you saying you do not believe the rumors that are said about you?"

Ginelle stiffened, suddenly fearful. "I do not know what rumors are said about me, Mr. Sharp."

He leaned forward as he accepted a cup of tea, his eyes grinning conspicuously of sly amusement.

Ginelle straightened her spine and lifted her chin, "Do you mock me, Sir?"

His grin widened, "Not at all, milady."

Ginelle narrowed her eyes at him, "Would you care to explain what it is that you find so amusing?"

"You astound me." He said before taking a sip from his cup.

Ginelle frowned, her brow arching as she continued to stare at him.

"You state your opinion very blatantly and you do not concern yourself with social affairs." His eyes darkened before adding, "I admire that in a woman."

"You admire an assertive woman?"

"I do, milady." He replied coolly.

"Not many do."

"When I marry, the woman that I take as my wife will be beautiful and she will not waste time on vanity and social affairs."

"You have such high expectations, Mr. Sharp."

"Are you insinuating that they are unachievable?" he smirked and Ginelle couldn't help but grin in return.

She nearly laughed aloud for she found this man impossible yet likeable. He was handsome and intelligent but most importantly, he admired her willfulness. She scowled inwardly at the thought of Dorian for he fought to control her every whim. Nathaniel Sharp appeared to be a man who would not shun a woman's opinion.

"You like to read, Lady Pattinson?"

Jarred to awareness, Ginelle spared a glance at the book forgotten on the table. "Yes very much. Do you, Mr. Sharp?" she was suddenly excited that he had asked her a question that most gentlemen did not bother to ask.

He nodded, "I am quite the scholar."

She smiled but just as quickly as the smile appeared, it vanished abruptly at the dark presence looming in the door frame of the parlor. Immediately, Mr. Sharp gathered to his feet to address the man who assessed him with cold eyes.

Ginelle got to her feet as those icy depths met hers from across the room. What had she done now to bring on such a blackened mood? Dorian Ashford had all but disappeared in the past couple of days. Why now would he make his presence known when she was beginning to like one of the many suitors to call upon her?

Those vivid, blue eyes barely acknowledged the man standing in the parlor as he said to Ginelle. "I'd like a word with you."

Agitated by his authoritative manner, Ginelle excused herself from the parlor and followed Dorian into the hall. It wasn't until she reached his side that her senses were alert to the sheer size of him. Why did his presence unnerve her so much?

His fingers, warm and strong curled around her upper arm. She gasped as he pulled her close. Shocked by the sudden rush of her heart at the touch of his fingers on her skin and the closeness of their bodies, she wrenched her arm from his grip and stepped back to put space between them. "What have I done?" she demanded her breath short and quick as she struggled to keep her wits about her.

He towered over her, his broad chest donned in a black tunic opened at the throat to reveal smooth, bronze skin. She avoided that expanse of flesh and forced herself to meet his angry expression. "What is that man doing in my parlor?" the bone of his jaw flexed with obvious distaste.

Ginelle did not question why Dorian detested Nathaniel Sharp for what man or woman did not spark his temperament?

Instead she said, "Were you not the one who insisted I marry?"

He leaned forward and she inhaled sharply as he trapped her between his arms on either side of her and she realized than he had backed her against a wall. "You will not marry that man."

Her eyes narrowed with sheer anger. She would marry no man she fumed silently but she would not relate that to this brutish barbarian. In fact, she found it amusing that she actually had something to use against him for making demands of her and something to unravel his cold disposition.

She smiled coolly, "I will marry whichever man of my choosing."

She felt his big body stiffen and for a moment she thought she may have pushed him too far. Would he strike her? Why did it matter to him whom she married as long as she married? He said nothing as he straightened his eyes boring down at her before finally he turned and stalked away.

Within the next hour she and Mr. Sharp whom insisted she call Nathaniel talked vigorously of interests they both seemingly enjoyed. She found it odd that they shared many things in common and the more they talked the more she enjoyed his company. He appeared unaffected by Dorian's apparent rudeness. She was delighted when he insisted that she play from the piano.

Whichever reason Dorian detested Nathaniel Sharp she cared not. He was the first and only suitor that showed great interest in who she truly was. Though, she would not submit to marriage, she couldn't help her immediate attraction to him but a man like Nathaniel Sharp could never know of her past. The evening whisked on quickly and it wasn't long until they were standing at the door and he was bidding her a good night.

He smiled a charming smile and curtsied, "Twas a pleasure to spend the evening with you, Lady Ginelle. I pray that you and I will spend more time together. Mayhap at the banquet?" he did not wait for her reply but took her hand gently and graced it with a kiss and than left.

Ginelle closed the door and moved to the parlor, she stopped abruptly to stare at the large, muscled frame standing at the window with fists curled at his sides.

**********

Instantly, she felt as though the room were too small despite it being a spacious parlor. She gathered her skirts with the intent of continuing on to her room but his displeased tone stopped her short.

"You are forbidden to see that man again." His eyes remained transfixed on the departing carriage outside the manor.

Ginelle's eyes narrowed heatedly as she said, "If I wish to see Mr. Sharp again that is my decision and mine alone."

He turned from the window then to glare at her and she immediately caught herself stepping back in panic at the black expression contorting his features. "Disobey me and I will be the one choosing you a husband as it are accustomed."

She inhaled sharply and her nostrils flared in sudden frustration. She stalked towards him until they were scarce apart. "Why do you insist on controlling everything I do?" she resisted the urge to jab her finger in the center of that hard chest as she lifted her chin defiantly up at him. "What is it that displeases you so about Nathaniel Sharp?"

Dorian enclosed the remainder of space hovering between them and she suddenly found it extremely difficult to breathe as the rich spices of his skin seeped into her senses. "That man is known for his wild streak of courting various women with considerably pleasing inheritance." He leaned forward and she felt his breath fan her forehead. She felt a blush creep up her neck and into her cheeks as her heart did a strange flip within her chest. "He is a fortune hunter."

His words jarred her past the sudden exhilaration of her heart and shortness of breath. He was doing something strange to her and she didn't like it one bit. For some anonymous reason unknown to her Dorian Don Ashford loathed Nathaniel Sharp but she would not be played a fool.

He was lying; Nathaniel was not a fortune hunter. He had given no indication that he knew of her supposed inheritance or that he was only interested in her dowry. In fact, he had stated quite clearly that he wanted an assertive woman as his wife. Is that not what she wanted, to be free to make her own decisions? If she really did want to marry, Nathaniel Sharp would be a definite choosing for a husband. Dorian Ashford was the sort of man that took pleasure in authority. He was evidently aware that she found Nathaniel a gentleman and his company enjoyable. He was anxious to be rid of her so why now this sudden objection?

He could conjure as many lies as he wanted and she would not believe a word of it. The stubborn oaf insisted on making decisions for her and if she were a meek and docile female, he would most likely continue with his governing up until the altar! She had endured too many hardships to allow a man such as Dorian Ashford to reign over her.

"Mr. Sharp is a very genuine man and I look forward to seeing him again at my banquet." She turned to leave but strong fingers circled her forearm and jerked her back around.

A breath rushed up from her throat and her eyes widened at the suddenness of his grip but the fingers around her arm were not bruising but they gripped her with warning. "You seem to forget milady that I arranged your banquet. Yourbanquet is being held at the grand hall of the Duke of Hadley in which the Duke happens to be an old companion of mine. Therefore milady, I have the power to arrange your banquet and I have the power to take it all away."

Ginelle stiffened as those icy depths fell to her lips and she was struck with the vivid image of his mouth crashing down on hers at the river. She felt a crimson blush stain her cheeks and she wrenched her arm from his grasp.

She stepped away from him and straightened her spine and said, "Do as you see fit, Master Dorian." She gathered her skirts and gripped them until her knuckles were white and stalked from the room, unaware of the grin curving the corners of his mouth as he watched her leave.

Dorian sat behind his mahogany desk, completely absorbed in the map in front of him as he studied the black print and intricate engravings. His gaze never wavered far from the brandy bottle and the map dispersed in front of him. With a growl of frustration he shoved the map aside and lunged to his feet, turning to the window behind him as he swept a hand through his tousled mane.

A streak of warm hues pierced the horizon just beyond the mountain peaks. He braced his weight against the window frame, staring beyond that point as if peering into the past. A dormant memory he thought buried surfaced within the walls of his troubled mind and as much as he struggled to shove it down, it refused to remain buried, rushing to the surface.

He stood in the darkened corridor, pressing his little frame flat against the wall, his arms coming out on both sides to balance his trembling body. His eyes fixated on the flickering light beneath the wooden door looming before him and he watched carefully as shadows stirred on the other side. He could hear their muffled words, one of anger and the other just a whisper. He waited, his heart pumping wildly in his chest. He could hear his voice, definite and frightening, a deep voice that cracked with uncontrollable rage.

The first slap came without warning and he stiffened as he heard his mother's distinct cry as the blow forced her to the floor. He pressed his fist against his mouth as he heard her silent plea while his father advanced and her unheeded cry did little to prevent the heavy fist coming at her face.

A sudden tapping jerked Dorian alert and he turned towards the door as he slowly unclenched his fists and relaxed the muscles in his face to greet Bogart. The steward was instantly aware of the sudden tension seeping from his Laird but said nothing as he cautiously entered.

"Lieutenant Cummings has arrived to see you, milord." The elderly man stepped aside to allow Cummings entry but the Lieutenant barely acknowledged the steward as his eyes settled on Dorian's rigid frame standing across the room.

Bogart took his leave as Cummings studied his Captain's dark face, void of any expression. "You look like death, Capitaine."

Dorian motioned Cummings to a chair opposite of his and settled into his own. He stretched out his aching limbs and leaned back into the leather chair to better observe his Lieutenant. "What news do you bring?"

Cummings poured himself a hearty glass of brandy and quickly downed it, bracing himself for Dorian's anger. "As you know most of the cargo was sold and remainders of the crates are unattainable. As for the crew many were rumored to have been sold into slavery. Some were killed during the siege. There whereabouts are uncertain but I've been tracking the Spanish bastard for weeks. He's gone off of his trail."

A heavy silence settled between them and Cummings leaned forward in the chair, the leather beneath him protesting against his shifting weight. "With London Officials and several Bounty Hunters on his tail, he's well aware of the reward in his capture. The bastard is fleeing."

"He has also made the mistake of changing his course. He has a concealed nest." Dorian added as he seized the map lying on his desk.

Cummings pressed a finger on the engraved map, "He was spotted off the coast of Portugal. This is where the bastard shifted routes. He started north-east continuing onward into the English Channel. In taking that risk, he has London Officials on his tail. Two sets of Bounty Hunters came from the Netherlands. The Spaniard has been plundering along our coast and the coast of France. They trailed him along the North Sea but he vanished. They can't seem to track his whereabouts."

"He's gone into hiding." Dorian puzzled over the engraved map. "It will be some time before he shows his cowardly face, at least until some of the heat dissipates. London Officials will be the first to give up their search for they have no authority elsewhere, as for Bounty Hunters, their paid to pursue and capture."

"What do you recommend, Capitaine?"

Dorian gathered to his feet and moved back to the window, "I have a sufficient amount of hogshead ready to be shipped." He turned from the window to stare at Cummings as he continued, "In several weeks time, I need you to ready a vessel."

"The Silver Wind?" Cummings asked, puzzled.

Dorian shook his head, "Nay, would be too conspicuous." He returned to his seat and grabbed the brandy bottle, he met Cummings stare from across the desk. "I need the biggest and most powerful vessel we have; a seemingly impressive prize to be had, one that the Spaniard King cannot pass up."

Cummings cocked a brow at his Captain. "What are you conducting?"

"I plan to lure the bastard from his hideaway, where I'm certain a majority of the crew and cargo is being detained. He has to have a retreat, a desolated refuge concealed from authorities."

"What happens after you manage to lure the Spaniard out?"

"We drop the element of surprise."

"Which is?" Cummings asked certain of the reply.

"We attack."

Cummings nodded, "You have only to send word and I will prepare the vessel with the readied hogshead, in the meantime I will set about purchasing fur, spices and fabrics. I'll ready the preparations when I am able. How long before we set sail?"

Dorian pondered this for a moment. If he knew the Spaniard well enough, the bastard would hide low until he felt his trail had gone cold. "I'll give the bastard a month."

"What will you do in the meantime?" Dorian frowned at this and averted his attention to his Lieutenant.

A swift image of silver-blond hair and soft, brown eyes rushed to mind and he realized than he had completely dismissed the banquet from his thoughts. "There are a few matters I have to tend too."

Cummings suddenly grinned a knowing grin as he studied Dorian's vexed expression. "This certain matter wouldn't happen to come in the form of a small woman with pretty, dark eyes?" Cummings hesitated before adding, "Do you have feelings for the girl, Capitaine?"

Dorian stiffened as he cast a dark and dangerous glare at Cummings. "Have you gone brash, Lieutenant?"

Cummings lazily shrugged his shoulders, "I am merely asking out of curiosity."

Dorian narrowed his eyes at his comrade, his mouth set in a grim line of irritation. "You best watch yourself Lieutenant for your curiosity could very well cost you your tongue."

Cummings straightened, suddenly intrigued as his mouth twisted into a grin. "Forgive me, Capitaine."

"The girl tries my patience." Dorian exclaimed. "She is intolerable."

"You hate her then?" Cummings urged.

"What exactly are you getting at, Cummings?" Dorian demanded, his eyes narrowing in speculation.

"Mere curiosity, Capitaine."

Dorian slammed his fist on the desk and jerked forward in his seat. "Damn you, Stefan! What is it exactly that you are implying?"

"Have you decided to marry the girl off?"

Dorian settled back into his chair, trying desperately to get a grip of his anger. Cummings was doing his best to unravel his temper and damn the bastard he had done so masterfully. "Aye, the sooner the better. Her small stature does little justice to her temper and defiant nature."

"Aye but with the short temper and defiance comes remarkable beauty, mayhap I should marry her myself? She is very lovely and would make a fine wife."

Dorian jerked upward and slammed his fists onto the smooth surface of the mahogany desk, his livid face revealing immediate anger. "I'll be damned if I stand by and let that happen!"

Cummings couldn't contain his humor any longer. He released a stream of laughter as he fell back into his seat. "Is that an impulse strictly of guardianship or that of jealousy?" Cummings insisted as he watched Dorian gather to his feet.

Dorian turned and scowled darkly at Cummings. "I grow weary of your jesting, Lieutenant." He cast a considerable glance at the brandy bottle and decided against it. He had much tedious planning and hard labor to face in the day to come; he needed a clear state of mind.

"I'll take my leave now, Capitaine. Shall I relieve you of the brandy?" Cummings eyes widened and he ducked just as the whiskey bottle whisked past his head to shatter against the far wall. Cummings straightened, turned to survey the mixture of spirits and glass before turning back with a wide grin plastered on his face. He curtsied and sauntered from the room, still grinning.

**********