A Pirate's Love

Title

Elenor's POV:

I quickly made my way from the door and sat at the table in my room. Overwhelmed by what had just happened, I lightly touched my neck and let out a quiet sob. What is happening? This was all too much. From being attacked by pirates in the beginning to now being treated like a dog by one, I couldn't handle much more. I just wanted to go home, to my father, as quick as possible.

I picked up the mirror from the table and brought it up to my face. I looked into my own eyes and watched tears fall in fear. With one hand on the handle and the other on the back of the glass, I suddenly felt small ridges against the flat surface. I turned the mirror around and studied it. Tiny words were embellished on the back, 'Commodore Jacob Kiszka.' Was this stolen? Commodore. Was this the Captain?

I heard a slight knock on the door and ignored it, thoughts still flooding my mind. This would make sense. His naval jacket. The familiarity of his eyes. I have seen him before, no doubt in my father's navy.

I heard a knock again. "Open up, love," I heard. The Captain. My heard started beating fast, still afraid from his unpredictable responses. I hesitated to let him in, the safety of my temporary room giving me peace.

"Miss," he said from behind the door, his voice low and careful. Deciding with caution that I would be okay, I got up from my seat and slowly unlocked the door, peeking out. His face was sullen and eyes tired. He looked at me softly. "May I come in?" He asked, warily.

"You may," I said as I sniffled, letting the door swing open all the way. He walked in the room briskly, briefly glanced around, and pulled out a chair at the table. He looked back at me, expecting me to join him. My mind began to panic at the thought of being alone with him again. "I'd like to keep it open," I said, pointing at the door.

"Very well," He stated calmly, "you may do as you wish in this room. It's yours for the time being." I stared at him in silence, confused by his sudden change in character. "Shall we have a seat?" He asked, gesturing to the chair He pulled out. I cautiously walked towards the open seat and sat down, directing my eyes to the floor, not wanting to look at him. I fiddled with my fingers nervously. He was silent for moments too long. I wanted to get up and leave.

"They were my mother's," He suddenly said. I looked in the direction he was gazing at. The mirror and the brush. "They were a present after my promotion—" he abruptly stopped, his brow slightly furrowing and bottom lip twitching. "She was a beautiful woman, big doe eyes and glossy blond hair. She was always good to me. She wanted me to have them before she left this world." He quickly changed the subject but I caught it. Promotion? So he was a naval officer. "I suppose she thought I needed them," He let out a small chuckle and I looked in his eyes with a small smile, trying not to show that I saw through him. "It's all I have left of her," He finished. I looked at his jacket closely, trying to determine the rank.

"She sounds like a wonderful mother," I responded, my voice cracking nervously. He looked down at my neck for a moment and then back in my eyes.

"She was." His eyes were sad and questioning. I looked back down at my hands, not wanting to stare in his eyes for very long. "Miss," He called out for me and I met his eyes again, "I apologize for my behavior. Old habits tend to come out when I lose my temper. When you're around scalawags all the time you don't think about your actions before doing them," He explained. I looked up at him and swallowed hard, slightly wincing at the pain.
"Oh, love," He spoke tenderly, yet reached out to touch my neck, causing me to flinch, not knowing his true intention. He pulled back his hand slightly. "May I?" He asked softly. I closed my eyes and nodded. I could feel his fingertips gently graze the stinging cuts on my neck. I didn't expect his touch to be so warm and gentle after what had just happened. He slowly took his hand away and let out a worrisome, "Mmm."

"I think I got them while we were running through the trees," I explained, trying to break the silence "and when you—" I paused, not wanting to bring up how he grabbed me for fear of crying again, "it's sore." He let out a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry," He apologized, seeming genuine. "I'll have Smith bring ointment for you."

I smiled at the thought of the kindness of Smith. "He spoke highly of you— Smith," I told him.

"He's a good man," He replied, his eyes focused on the table in front of him, deep in thought, "and an even better first mate."

I studied his face as it softened, knowing that I recognized him. Trying to look past the light stubble on his cheeks and upper lip, I tried to imagine him in a bright blue naval coat, trimmed with the gold embroidery and brass buttons. An image flashed in my mind of him with his hair tied back in a ribbon and a proper hat, younger and cleaner than he was now, with his arms behind his back, pacing my father's study. No, not an image, a memory.

"Have we met before?" I asked, forgetting what we were talking about before. I saw him stiffen and shift in his seat. He ruffled and scratched at his hair nervously.

"I don't believe we have, love," he said as his eyes faltered, not really looking at me. I squinted at him in suspicion.

He suddenly sat up straight and changed the conversation again, "I came in here to further inform you of the complications of our journey."

"Oh?" I asked, knowing now that he was dancing around the subject.

He cleared his throat nervously and in a bubbly grumble, no doubt from smoking too much tobacco. "The truth is, princess," he started, "I was not given enough time to prepare for this journey. My provisions are short. If we do not stop to get food my men will starve, and we will not make it to Brighton." I was slightly shocked as he placed the blame of not having enough provisions on the timing of this journey.

"I will starve?" I asked, fully aware of what he was saying, yet trying to rile him up in order to find his true identity.

His eyes widened and eyebrows scowled. "Yes. You will starve." He responded straightforwardly.

"It can't be much different since I'm already starving now." I stared into his eyes intensely and he quickly glanced around the room. He looked back at me with an unreadable expression, almost as if he were looking past my eyes and through my skull.

"We're stopping in Africa," He stated as he stood up nervously, his hands still gripping the back of the chair.

"My father will not be happy. Isn't it your duty to get me to him?" I tried to fish it out of him. If he did work for my father he would have some sort of reaction. His eyes slightly glared at me before quickly going back to his stone face. That was it.

He bent down and leaned closer to me, staring into my eyes. "I don't think daddy will want to see his daughter as skin and bones, love." He mocked, obviously annoyed. "He can wait another ten days." He stood up straight and walked towards the door.

Grumbling to himself as he walked out, "Captain–" I called to him, his back to me, not even throwing a glance behind him. "Commodore–" I said as he was in the doorway. He instantly snapped his head back and glared into my eyes. I scoffed at him, knowing that this got his attention, and probably for a good reason.

"I do not go by that title," he barked back, bitterly. His eyes looked like they were setting fire to me in my place. He quickly rushed out of the doorway and cursed under his breath.