Thomas stood there. His feet, though planted firmly upon the deck, seemed weightless. So stunned was he by the First Mate’s sudden embrace, and the breathy words she spoke against his neck, that he felt as if he truly must have never awoken from the previous night’s drunken stupor. 

It was real, and she was real, however. The tears that had sat upon her cheeks, both perfect and marred, soaked into the thin cloth of his shirt. Her shuddered sobs and intakes of breath warmed his flesh, and the smell of shining golden hair filled his nose. Yet amongst all the many notes that called his senses to her, it was the press of her figure, the firm embrace of her arms, and the proximity of her full lips that froze him in utter and complete absorption.

His mind raced, a thundering storm of emotion and thought that worked to the beat of his bounding heart. Thomas had not meant for this, had not anticipated Nicolette to open to him in such a violent torrent of torn wounds and renewed vulnerability. He had known her to be secretive and reserved, but what she had shown to him was more than he had fathomed to lie buried beneath the angelic surface. The mark upon her cheek spoke to a past of pain and torment, but this was more than that. For the second time that morning Thomas cursed himself and his own arrogant dreams, and what it had forced from the woman who now embraced him.

Another part of him, the darker portion, the one that had been fed and tended by the free and scoundrel lifestyle of a pirate captain, saw opportunity in this moment. It called for him to seize the First Mate’s vulnerability, to possess this rare and damaged flower. The struggle against this part of him was so fierce, that Thomas again felt shame flood into his pounding heart, and spread like chilled water through his veins. 

[i]How low a man am I truly? These demons that I entertain, who is master and who is slave?”[/i]

In the end, it was the glittering image of stars that came to his mind’s eye that affirmed his conviction. He thought of the North Star, the Home Star, and how its sparkling aura had come to mean so much more to him reflected in the grey eyes of a rogue.

“You are welcome here as long as you wish. As you are, and no different. I would have it no other way,” he spoke at last. His voice was quiet and calm, and his breath teased the few loose strands of gold upon the First Mate’s head. 

He brought an arm around to return the First Mate’s embrace, while the other reached into his hip pocket to withdraw a well-worn and stained kerchief.

The absurdity of his offering teased at the corner of his lips just slightly, and he hoped Nicolette would find the gesture equally as softening to the moment. 

“It’s not pretty, and it certainly isn’t lace, but I can assure you it’s clean.” Thomas paused briefly, “Well, clean enough anyway.”