Lucien passed the hours as Bronte regained her strength reading or telling stories from his childhood. Many times, he read from the Bible. As the days passed Bronte began to relish the companionship she felt with Lucien and wish for something more.

She'd often drift in and out of sleep as his voice rumbled on, telling fantastic stories of giants and floods and things that seemed from a child's storybook. During those times, Bronte thought about what had happened in the prison. She was on the brink of sharing it with Lucien more than once but always stopped herself.

Bronte's habit was to keep everything about herself, to herself. And a small part of her was afraid it wasn't real; that it was all some delusion stemming from her illness.

Time ticked by and before long, Bronte nearly felt herself again.

"So, how about letting me out of this stuffy room? I'm beginning to think you're holding me hostage," Bronte remarked one afternoon as Lucien came in.

"I've news," he said, ignoring her plea. "Sam's back, and with an interesting story to tell."

"Sam's back?" she reiterated. "Should he be?"

"You mean is there still a warrant out for him? Yes," Lucien said with his head tilted to one side. He seemed to think there was something she wasn't asking.

He was right.

"Is he still...?" Bronte broke off.

"You two should talk. I'll send him a note," Lucien stated.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Bronte asked skeptically.

"You're right. I'll go to him in person," Lucien said, intentionally misinterpreting her question. "What would you like me to tell him?"

"Any chance I could come? I really am feeling better."

Lucien looked thoughtful. "I don't think you're ready yet. You shouldn't rush it."

Bronte sighed.

Lucien crossed his arms.

"All right," she finally acquiesced. "Please tell Sam I would like to see him."

Lucien smiled and strode toward the door.

"But I'm not staying in bed!" Bronte called after him.

Lucien turned toward her as he opened the door, wearing a wide smile. "I'll be sure to tell Eliza," he said as he pulled the door shut behind him.

He'd better blasted well not, Bronte thought as she defiantly threw back the comforter.

***

Lucien smiled as he pulled the door closed. He couldn't have been happier to have Bronte physically healthy again, but he still wished he could do more to help heal her soul. It surprised him that Bronte never protested his frequent Bible readings, and he'd been praying every night that she find her way to the Lord's side. At times Lucien felt guilty over the personal interest he had in Bronte's salvation. He would never marry a woman who did not share his faith; and he could not deny that thoughts of marriage crept up increasingly often as they shared this time together. During those moments of guilt, he reminded himself it was not purely selfish motives that made him pray for her. He would want Bronte to find God's peace regardless of his attraction.

Lucien plodded slowly toward the harbor as he thought and ran into Sam near the docks. Sam was not as well hidden as Lucien thought he should be, and he told Sam as much. Lucien no sooner finished relaying the message from Bronte, when he got a whiff of something all-too-familiar.

He quickly shoved Sam into the doorway of the empty building they were standing near.

"Dr. Bellemare," said a swaggering Captain Bartholomew as he rounded the corner. "It's good to see you've no ill effects from your accident."

"Thank you, Captain." Lucien steeled himself to say the next part. "I've been meaning to find you and thank you for your assistance in my recovery."

"Not at all, my good boy. All in a day's work," Bartholomew said with a false smile. Lucien had thought himself too warmly dressed in a white Holland shirt and tan doublet, but Bart wore his traditional velvet coat in addition to shirt and doublet and sweat rolled out from under his dark periwig. "You wouldn't happen to know when your father is due, would you? I've business to settle with him."

Lucien wasn't fooled by Bart's civility. He knew exactly what business the pirate hunter wanted to settle. He was still after a reward.

Casually, Lucien led him away from the docks and away from Sam.

After a bit of idle conversation Lucien realized Bart had directed their walk toward the Bellemare estate. This was the last place Lucien wanted him, but he couldn't think of a polite way to shake off the tyrant and eventually found himself telling the captain he'd love to give him a tour of his father's home.

"Here's my father's office." He held the door open as Bartholomew stepped inside and gazed at the fine leather chairs, the desk with neat stacks of papers and rolls of parchment on it, and a large, finely-detailed chart of Bermuda and the surrounding shoals tacked on one wall.

As Bart looked over the room, his eyes rested a moment on a large jeweled globe sitting in one corner. "No window," he commented idly.

Lucien wondered why that should matter. "No, the only windows on this side of the house are in the library and that spare room down the hall." The spare room was where Bronte was, and he wasn't about to let Bart see that one. Lucien tried to think of an escape from his tiresome company.

"Spare room?" the captain questioned.

"Oh, just full of dust and old furniture mostly. Nothing of interest," Lucien said dismissively. "I wonder, have you heard of any ships coming in from Jamaica? I'm expecting a dear friend," Lucien asked, daring to hope it'd distract the inquisitive man.

"Why yes, one is due this very evening," Captain Bartholomew said.

"Truly?" Lucien could hardly believe his good fortune.

"Indeed," the captain assured, looking curiously at Lucien.

"Then I beg your pardon! I must go and see if she's in yet!" he said as he strode toward the door.

"But it's near the dinner hour!" Bart complained. Obviously, he'd been hoping for an invitation.

"Then all the more reason for me to hurry!" Lucien said smiling as he held the door wide.

Captain Bartholomew held his ground for a moment and stood, blinking at the young doctor. Finally he realized Lucien wasn't about to relent and bowing stiffly, excused himself.

Lucien really did want to check the docks so he quickly peeked in on Bronte, who he was pleased to find asleep, Eliza sewing contentedly by her side, and headed back out.

Lucien hastened toward the shore, delighted to see a newly anchored ship, Elizabeth, bobbing offshore.

He hurried to the docks and arrived in time to give a hand to Johnstonen as the boat scraped along the wooden dock.

"Good to see you, friend!" he said as he embraced the man.

Captain Dewberry stood behind him, frowning as usual. "And you, sir," Lucien said as he extended a hand. "You look well."

"Humph. I should, after being landlocked for so long. Abandoned twice!" he groused. "And what's this I hear, I no longer have a ship to captain?" He tugged at his silvery doublet as he spoke, trying to keep it down as his chest swelled with indignation.

Johnstonen intervened. "Now Evard, don't be so hard on the boy. He did just survive a shipwreck."

"Should've never been out to be wrecked!" Capt. Dewberry pointed out, but even then he was marching away from them, making his way toward his seaside home.

Johnstonen sighed heavily.

Lucien smirked. "What's the matter, old friend? Has the patience finally worn out of the nun?"

Johnstonen shook his head and chuckled. "You could say that. That man is positively against happiness."

It was Lucien's turn to give a reassuring pat on the back. "Come, tell me of your grand adventures as you have apparently already heard of mine."

The older man stopped abruptly and looked up at Lucien. "I'm leaving."

Lucien shook his head, confused. "You just got here!"

Johnstonen started to walk again and Lucien kept pace.

"I'm going back to the Bahamas to ask Natalie to marry me."

"What brought this on?" Lucien had of course noticed the friendliness between the innkeeper and his friend, but he'd assumed Johnstonen would always be at his side.

Johnstonen sighed thoughtfully. "I have felt for some time now that my time with you was drawing to a close. Still, I waited on God's timing. After you left me in Jamaica with Dewberry—" he held his hand out, as Lucien had opened his mouth to speak, "it was quite all right," he assured Lucien before continuing. "Your leaving seemed to be the sign I was waiting for. But what to do with myself?"

Lucien listened with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. He hadn't meant to cause Johnstonen to consider leaving.

"As I considered my options," Johnstonen continued, "I remembered an old fellow I came across when we landed in Jamaica. We'd met him before in London. Carter by name. Dr. Carter." Lucien turned his head at the familiar name. "When I saw him the man looked positively morose, and I asked what had brought him so far from home."

Lucien was himself wondering if this could possibly be the same Carter aboard Bronte's ship of pirates.

"He—being well into his cups mind you—told me a sad tale featuring a woman whom he had long loved. For reasons he did not explain, he never told her. I gathered that he'd been her physician, because he said when he'd been unable to cure her of some illness, resulting in her demise, he'd fled England, unable to bear reminders of her and vowing to quit plying medicine."

Johnstonen said nothing for a moment and Lucien, lost in his own musings, did not either.

"Well, as you can imagine, it put me in mind of Natalie, and I decided that to let her go would be as great a loss as Carter's. I'm anxious to ask if Natalie is agreeable."

Lucien gave him the most genuine smile he could muster. "I wish you all happiness, Johnstonen. I'm sure you'll have no trouble convincing Mrs. White."

As they boarded the carriage (though the walk wasn't far Lucien had brought it to carry the luggage) Johnstonen relayed plans to transport all his belongings back to the very same ship, as he planned to be on it when it left for the Bahamas.