Charting A New Course

Chapter 1

"A guy like you should wear a warning. It's dangerous, now I'm falling."

-Toxic, Melanie Martinez

As she made her way through the halls of her family's manor, Lady Honora Spencer followed the commotion that had started mere minutes ago. All she managed to gather from servants' hushed whispers were words such as pirate, captured, and punishment. Given what Honora knew of her father's temper none of these facts made for a pleasant story. As she increased her pace, she finally neared the Great Hall where sounds of a whip against skin echoed across the empty corridor. Honora recoiled from the noise, the distinct stinging sound of leather meeting skin, as she repressed memories long since passed, but never forgotten. Gingerly, she crept up to the grand, ornate double doors that were ajar and peaked through. The sight that met her was one she was sure she would never forget.

Lying mere feet away from her was the famed pirate Charles Vane, captain of The Ranger and one of the fiercest swordsmen to sail the seven seas. At the moment though, he was far from the intimidating figure whose name kept many sailors awake at night. Honora recognized her father, Lord Edward Spencer, and several of his guards standing over Captain Vane as one man continuously brought Lord Spencer's whip down to lash into the pirate's back. Honora's eyes hardened as she watched Vane press his forehead into the pristine marble floor in an effort to ignore the cacophony of blows. Blood soaked through his cotton shirt and splattered off of the leather scourge to stain the snow-white columns.

"Where is the rest of your crew?" Lord Spencer spat as he stood with an air of pretentiousness carefully avoiding the spray of blood.

"They don't take very well to dry land," Vane gritted out through clenched teeth.

Honora had to stifle a laugh at the pirate's quip. She always enjoyed when someone was brash enough to put her arrogant father back in his place. As the blows became weaker and fewer in number, Honora took the time to study the man in question. He's far handsomer than the stories let on, she thought. Truth be told, she had only gathered snippets of knowledge from stories she overheard Naval officers sharing after they'd had one too many pints. Although none of them had mentioned his muscular frame, handsome face, or piercing ocean-blue eyes. There was something about him – even in his current state – that made Honora weak at the knees. I can see why the women tell stories about him as well. If she was honest with herself, the noblewoman knew that there was more than attraction in her heart. Admiration for piracy was a trait that her father certainly wouldn't approve of. However, Honora couldn't help herself from dreaming of a life away from her home – free to go wherever the wind took her. Suddenly, she was snapped out of her reprieve by a deep groan emanating from the subject of her daydreams. Glancing around and realizing that everyone else was gone, Honora took a deep breath and pushed open one of the doors she had been hiding behind. When Captain Vane didn't move at the sound, Honora began to slowly make her way over to him. Once she found herself standing over him, she crouched down at his side and gently placed her hand on his arm.

"Captain?"

"Never expected the Angel of Death to be a girl," he wheezed.

"You aren't dying. Although if those wounds aren't cleaned, you very well might keel over sooner rather than later. Let me get you to the dungeon," Honora suggested as she softly tugged on his arm.

"I have a better idea lass," Vane grumbled as he let her help him to his unsteady feet. "Why don't you just show me to the door and I'll find my way out."

"Don't be ridiculous," she admonished as she put his arm over her shoulder and used her hands to brace his body against hers. "There are guards everywhere. We wouldn't even reach the door and I don't plan on dying today."