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Isabella: The Novel Ch. 01-05

By: CaseyDobbs1



Thanks again for all the support, We hope you enjoy the excerpt from our book. 

I am looking for comments on this first part, as it may cause me to change the direction of the rest of the book.

Votes, Comments or a visit to our blog, are always welcome. I have written and re-written and revised this story. I am may be too close to it. I am looking for input on incongruities.

*****

Chapter 1

"Happy Christmas Isabelle."

It was Christmas Day, 1743. Isabelle was restless as always. Sometimes, it seemed she would never settle. Isabelle had recently been given news that did not make her happy. As she paced in her dressing room she felt trapped. By all accounts, the room was spacious, warm and well lit. The fire crackled in her fireplace, the sunlight shone through her windows, and the high ceilings gave the impression of open spaces. For all of that she couldn't breathe. She normally had a short fuse when she felt caged; right now she was downright angry. 

"Happy Christmas! We are newlyweds and you are headed to Jamaica for some financial scheme of your father's?"

William sighed and knew that his quiet Christmas was behind him. Isabelle's temper; legendary amongst her peers, could rise to legendary proportions. William experienced that now. 

"Isabelle you know I must. My father has required it." 

William was a man of some means, owing mostly to his family's import business.

"Happy Christmas, indeed! William, your father has sent many of his men on these schemes to increase his standing before. Why you? Why now?"

"My father wants someone there to make decisions in his place. Sugar imports are set to generate a very tidy profit. With his partner indisposed, he has chosen me for this task. He has secured a berth for me on one of the first rate ships, a 100 gun strong, travelling as part of the commodore's fleet. Why, I'll be travelling with the Commodore himself. The risk will be minimal and I'll be back by the end of March."

"The risk will be minimal? William must I remind you that we are at war with France, and when you get to the Caribbean, you will be constantly under the threat of piracy? As a passenger you will have little control over your fate. If you must go to sea, do it as your brother has. Join the navy and seek your honor. Don't skulk in the commodore's cabins."

"Enough! The decision has been made."

"William, your brother has proven himself a hero, a real man, can't you at lea—"

"ENOUGH! I wish to hear no more of my brother."

Isabelle's ire was up, and she was not to be denied. She knocked over a number of scientific journals she had been studying. "You could do well to learn something of being a man from him."

"Isabelle, enough or I'll have you over my knee," 

William threatened.

"Over your knee? You wouldn't dare! Go ahead."

A time of silence and tension passed before Isabelle said, "I thought as much. You can't. What is to happen to me while you are gone?"

"You will stay with my brother's wife, Charlotte, and their daughter, Abigail. Come down and greet them, the rest of my relatives are here as well."

William was trying desperately to placate Isabelle and salvage his Christmas. Isabelle was having none of it.

"I think I've had quite enough of your Christmas already. When do you leave?"

"The twenty-ninth. I'm packed and my baggage will be moved tomorrow. You will be traveling to Charlotte's then as well."

With this statement, Isabelle lost the little patience she was maintaining with her new husband. "I will be travelling with your luggage? As chattel? Get Out! Get Out! Get Out!"

And so on December twenty-ninth, 1743, William Stanford sailed toward his fortune and Isabelle was well on her way to her sister's to spend the next three months.

~~*~~

Chapter 2

Life settled into a mundane, predictable pattern broken only by Isabelle's interest in the scientific and her niece's antics. Restless as always, these diversions barely kept her occupied. Charlotte found Isabelle tiresome and edgy, making for a difficult three months.

Isabelle had a ferocious appetite for learning and was forever reading the scientific sections of the paper. She would bore Charlotte to tears with this scientist discovered a new mineral and that explorer discovered a new species. 

Charlotte, the typical good housewife, didn't know why Isabelle bothered with such things. These were the affairs of men. Charlotte rarely paid any attention it Isabelle's ramblings.

Charlotte's daughter Abigail was a mischievous young woman, who recently she turned eighteen years old. She loved life and was always up to something. Her mischief was Isabelle's main relief from the boredom of domesticity.

One early morning prior to sunrise in the dawn, when the weather was particularly warm, Abi knocked on Isabelle's window. Isabelle opened the sash and Abi said, "I want to show you something."

"But your mother will hear."

"Not if you're quiet. Come on, out the window, not the door. When you come out, grab the trellis and climb down. It's easy."

As always, when presented with an unknown, curiosity got the best of Isabelle. She dressed quickly and followed.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see when we get there."

"Your mother will be furious with me if she finds out I've followed you on this adventure."

"Since when has that bothered you? Shhhh. We're here."

They had run downtown to one of the public baths for men. There was a hole in one of the walls and they could hear sounds of splashing coming from the hole. With a big grin on her face, Abigail said, "Want to have a look?"

Isabelle responded with a disgusted "Absolutely not."

Abi was quite fine with this and said, "Suit yourself."

Abigail peered through the hole where she could see men walking to and fro. She told Isabelle she liked to look at the men. Isabelle was aghast. Curiosity running rampant in her, she was torn between what was proper and what she desperately wanted. She knew it was wrong and yet she was curious. She had only seen William's. What had Abigail stirred in her? This peeping was something little children did.

Abi interrupted her internal debate. "If you're going to look it, has to be now. We have to get back."

Isabelle decided, said, "I've been studying an article by Dr. Smythe on the human form. Move out of the way, I'll look as part of my research."

Abi smiled and moved out of the way allowing Isabelle to look. She was surprised by the nonchalance with which the men walked around. 

Later, as the two women made their way back, they discussed what they had seen. Actually Abi did all the talking, Isabelle was lost in thought.

"Cocks come in all shapes and sizes don't they Isabelle?"

Isabelle was too embarrassed by the words coming out of her young niece's mouth to respond. Abi went on, "I hope my husband has a big one. It just seems more masculine."

Isabelle blushed even more, and chose not to comment on William's size, but was lost in her daydreams. When they returned to the house, Isabelle said, "Abi, your sense of adventure will get you into trouble, but thank you for this morning, truly thank you. William is a couple of weeks overdue and I am growing concerned."

"I know he is late, but as a young wife shouldn't you feel more than concern? Worry? Or Yearning?"

Isabelle reflected a moment. "No yearning and no worry. Not yet."

They climbed in through the windows in time to hear Charlotte start to rouse the house. 

Charlotte knocked on Isabelle's Door. Isabelle answered it. Charlotte was surprised to see Isabelle dressed. 

"A letter came for you late last night; I did not want to disturb you."

Isabelle took the letter it read:

-

March 17, 1744

Dear Isabelle,

I hope this letter finds you well. We have made it to Jamaica and are safe.

We have made a fortune in these last three months and stand to make much more in the months to come. I can't leave at this juncture.

I have arranged passage for you. Your ship the Northumberland leaves London on May 30th, 1744.

With my deepest regards,

William Stanford.

-

Isabelle gave the letter to her sister and followed with, "Apparently, I am moving to Jamaica."

Her sister, happy to see the last of her house guest, inquired as to the date of Isabelle's departure. "When are you leaving us Isabelle? It will be good for you to resume your wifely duties."

"Less than a week, and damn my wifely duties! 

What about my desires? What about my friendship with Abi? What about my studies? What of everything that I have here?"

"William is a practical and sturdy man and will take care of you."

"Exactly, A practical and sturdy man. Charlotte, I wish he was more like John, his brother. Someone who could be a hero."

Charlotte, wishing to change the subject for she knew that Isabelle did not see William as an ideal mate, moved the flow of the conversation. 

"You have very little time to prepare for your 

journey."

"Did you notice I sail with a single ship while he sailed with a fleet? Indeed a practical and sturdy man."

~~*~~

Chapter 3

So on April the 30th, Isabelle found herself watching as London faded from sight. From the rails she spoke to the first lieutenant.

"A third rate vessel! I thought my husband said he made a fortune."

The first Lieutenant, with his blond naval beard, deep blue eyes and a gentle smile gave the impression of a kind and handsome man, worn from years at sea, replied, "Ma'am she is still one of the ships of the line. Do you know what that means?"

Isabelle had not yet accepted her fate and was not about to be lectured by this officer. She explained the term to him. "Yes, as a matter of fact I do. A ship of the line is capable of just that; a ship capable of sailing in a line with other ships of the line, and battering the enemy's line ships. Tell me, Lieutenant, how many guns does the Northumberland have?"

The lieutenant, surprised by Isabelle's knowledge, ignored the seething in the response and, always willing to discuss naval matters, continued. "She was originally commissioned for seventy-six guns, but due to a funding constraint the Northumberland boasts sixty-four guns. Those sixty-four guns should deter even the most ferocious pirates."

"I should be thankful that I am not travelling by sloop or merchant ship."

Lieutenant Oxford realized that keeping Isabelle happy on this trip would not be easy. He decided to try and remind her of the happy things in her life. "Are you looking forward to Jamaica?"

"Of course not. I've scarce been married six months and this is my third move. I'll be living with savages."

Lieutenant Oxford tried one more time to find pleasant thoughts for Isabelle. "I'll wager you're looking forward to seeing Mr. Stanford again. I served with his brother. William must be quite the man judging by John."

Isabelle looked wistfully up at the men tending sails.

"Lieutenant Oxford sir, I find this life exhilarating, these men, this lifestyle of adventure; this is what life is about. I don't doubt that John is doing an excellent job chasing pirates, but as to William, well let me just say that if William could stand up for himself, just once, I might still be in my new home in England."

Days passed, Isabelle and the lieutenant grew close as Isabelle learned everything he was willing to teach her. After an incident where Isabelle had been accidentally hit with a mop, the men learned of her temper and avoided her.

One day while Isabelle and the lieutenant were at their usual spot talking, the captain appeared on the quarter deck. The lieutenant excused himself:

"Isabelle, you'll have to excuse me, the captain is up and I must see to his needs."

Isabelle was enjoying the conversation, so as the lieutenant was excusing himself, she became petulant. "Certainly, I will be fine here alone without companionship."

As Lieutenant Oxford approached the captain, he inquired, "Captain, I didn't expect to see you up. Is everything OK? Orders sir?"

"Calm down, Mr. Oxford, I was looking out my cabin and saw you with Mrs. Stanford. I thought I might relieve you of that duty."

"Sir, it's not that I don't appreciate the offer, but I've never met a woman like her. She seems untamable. If you can catch her in an unguarded moment, and I have sir, she can speak of politics, science, art and history as well as any scholar, she is attractive and if I may say, sir, that form is not created by a corset."

"Just remember she is married and you soon will be."

"Aye, Captain, she is in a particularly foul mood this evening, and I will easily remember her vows to her husband for her."

"Sail Ho!"

The call came from the crow's nest. After ascertaining that the pursuing ship was not flying any colors, the captain ordered the lieutenant to see Isabelle to her room. The lieutenant went to comply. As he returned to Isabelle she said, "Tell me, Lieutenant, some more of the rope work."

"Ma'am we still have a little over fourteen days of our crossing. There will be plenty of time to teach you the rest of my job and for me to hear more of Susanna Dary's Engravings, but for now I must insist you head back to your quarters; Captain's orders."

Isabelle saw in the lieutenant's manner that she had lost her companion for the time being, she decided to end the conversation on her terms. "I was getting tired of this conversation any way. Please escort me below."

"I'll send a boy to see you to your quarters ma'am; I have standing orders that must be attended to."

Isabelle caught the look of concern in the lieutenant's gaze, and asked, "Is it serious?"

"Perhaps. You see, there has been a ship seen in the distance, closing fast."

"We are only six days out from England. Surely, it's a messenger from the King."

"She's not flying any colors. As I said, you need to head below. We will attempt to outrun her, which means using all of our canvas. The deck gets cluttered and dangerous with the ship rigged as such. I will visit when I have more news. Good Day."

As she was finding her way below, a boy appeared to escort her to her cabin. As they were heading below, she looked about wistfully at the men running to and fro. These were real men, hard men, men who lived by their wits. Her thoughts turned to her soft merchant William. The husband that her father thought could tame her. To say she was not looking forward seeing him again would be unkind. It might not untruthful but it would be unkind.

With access to the decks, Isabelle thought the trip was difficult; without that access, the trip became unbearable. Everyone was busy. It seemed as if she was forgotten except for the two meals a day she received and the boy who emptied her pail.

Her tiny room, which consisted only of a bed and a small dressing table, was causing cabin fever. The loneliness was the worst part. At this moment she might even say she missed her sister with her needlepoint and ideas of propriety. She needed news and information. If only Lieutenant Oxford would visit.

In her restless, impatient fashion, she decided that the next time the cabin boy came she would get her news. But that would not be for another two hours. She attempted to settle herself with her needlepoint. She never had been good with the domestic or as her father called them the gentler trades. No, Isabelle was a woman whose mind and body were built for action and adventure. Her mind was rarely in one place; that was part of the frustration with this semi-imprisonment. She felt staved for news. When she was starved for news, her mind actively filled in the gaps of her imagination. Thus far, her imagination made the pursuing ship everything from a simple messenger ship, to pirates, to the flagship of the French fleet. Most of these scenarios had her captured and ransomed safely to William.

Again, her mind drifted from her needlepoint and started to fill the gaps for lack of news. This time they were pirates, vile and disgusting. She thought if pirates caught her she would still be ransomed, but her safety was far less assured.

She could feel them, these men who lived and died by their wits, their strength, their cunning and their hard skills. She could feel them pawing at her, their calloused hands ripping and rending her dress and her small clothes. She should be repulsed, yet there was something in this thought that excited her. Some yearning that she knew she shouldn't feel. She thought of hard sailors, real men, of the Northumberland, working the sails, the musky scent of simple manliness clinging to them. She was overcome with a feeling centered in her being, in her very loins. Her hand started to wander under her bodice as she superimposed the visuals from the bath house and the bare-chested men working the sails. She slipped a hand into her bodice and pinched a nipple on one of her breasts. As her nipple hardened, she could feel dampness between her legs. She closed her eyes and the other hand moved to pull up the hem of her simple dress. Slipping a hand into her small clothes, she felt the patch of her reddish brown hair. Her fingers continued towards her most intimate area. 

She had done this before, but never with the thought of pirates and what they would do to her. She imagined the cocks from the bathhouse. She imagined the tension of the moment. She felt a fear, and then she felt them all around her. It was exciting and frightening all at the same time. She needed something to finish this story, this reverie. She needed a hero. Isabelle needed someone to come to her rescue at the last possible moment. She imagined pirates, dozens with their pants off and rubbing their things. As they held her in place, she imagined the vile captain of the pirate ship about to take her. He held his large, , pulsing, veiny thing in his hand as he approached her. 

Isabelle was busy rubbing herself. She sat on the edge of the bed, a finger pushed inside herself, the other hand rubbing her clitoris. As the pirate approached her and was about to climb on top of her, her hero appeared. The deepest brown eyes she had ever seen. He had a strength and chivalry from fairy tales. He pulled the pirate captain away from Isabelle and fought off the rest of the buccaneers. She pictured all of the men fighting, blades flashing. Sweat and blood. It was exhilarating. 

Suddenly, Isabelle was surprised by the knock on the door. She was interrupted on the verge of something new, a height she had never reached before. She would need to spend more time thinking about this hero. She cleaned herself up quickly and inquired who it was. It was the cabin boy. She had lost two hours in her thoughts. Where normally she barely acknowledged him, this time she needed something from him. This made him far, far more interesting to Isabelle.

"Come in, boy."

The Cabin boy entered without her dinner, which was unusual. "Captain sends his regards, ma'am."

Isabelle barely acknowledged the captain's regards, before she launched in on the unsuspecting cabin boy.

"I need to speak to Lieutenant Oxford, and I won't have no for an answer. I've been down here for too long without any news. Why, it's deplorable"

"But Ma—"

"Just deplorable, I tell you. "She didn't slow down to let the boy have a word. "Can you imagine being locked down here for two days? This room is too small."

"But—"

"The stench is almost unbearable. Where is Lieutenant Oxford? Have you not left yet? What am I to do in these quarters with no news and no expectation of news?"

After her tirade had blown itself mostly out, the cabin boy still had not left. Exasperated, Isabelle finally noticed the lack of dinner.

"Well, where is my dinner?"

The boy was well cowed by this point and did not know if he should answer. Taking what he thought was his life in his hands, he took a deep breath and he executed the captain's orders.


Isabella: The Novel Ch. 01-05



"Begging your pardon, ma'am, Captain sends his regards and request you dine with him this evening."

Isabelle, not apologetic, dismissed the cabin boy and told him to return in thirty minutes to give her time to freshen up.

~~*~~

Chapter 4

As they sat afterwards with drinks, Isabelle included, although it was something typically frowned upon for the women, Isabelle enjoyed and partook of the after dinner drink. The captain provided Isabelle all the news he could.

"So you see, Isabelle, it is grim indeed."

Dinner was excellent. They must have slaughtered a lamb for the meal; even the crew was pleased to be having fresh meat.

"Tell me again. Captain; I am afraid I don't understand why you plan on surrendering the Northumberland."

The Captain took a deep breath. "Isabelle there is a first rate French ship, the Atlas, chasing us. The captain, Alexandre Cara, is a devil. I have no idea how he is getting so much speed out of his ship. She has one hundred guns and should be much slower than us. He has more cloth rigged than I have ever seen. His men love him if the stories are true. They are unlike the rest of the French, rarely drunk, disciplined, uniform and willing to fight like devils."

"But the Northumberland is a ship of the line, sixty-four guns, newly out of refit barely a year old, surely with some of the British tactics we are so famous for we could..."

"I am sorry Isabelle, as she gains on us she is running fast ahead of her fleet. We caught a glimpse of at least seven ships as we were trying to maneuver to lose the Atlas in the fog. I could possibly beat Captain Cara, but any damage to the rigging would cost me the ship in a day or two. 

No, no man will die needlessly under my command."

The captain continued, "As a lady you will be treated well. The Frogs are nothing if not honorable to the fairer sex. I'm sure after five or six months they will ransom you and you will be able to make your way to your William."

Isabelle was struck dumb by this notion. Five or six months in a prison only to see her William at the end of the sentence? It seemed like moving from one horrible sentence to another. She had not realized how much she had enjoyed her pirates and her adventures—even if they were only in her mind.

The captain spoke again when he realized Isabelle was lost in troubled thought. "If you'll excuse me, we will run tonight, and I will scuttle my orders from London. This way even if they have a diver he will not find them. At first light we will hoist a white flag, stow our canvas and wait. You should head below Isabelle and prepare yourself, although for the short term there will be little change in your lifestyle. Lieutenant follow me, the Northumberland will surrender to Alexandre Cara of the French ship the Atlas on the eighth day of May seventeen hundred and forty four."

Lieutenant Oxford swore: "A black day for us."

As Isabelle prepared herself and her belongings for the surrender of the Northumberland, she contemplated this Alexandre Cara, capable of getting a French first rate ship to gain on a 64gun British ship. What type of man would he be? Would he be cruel? Would he lock her up? Without knowledge of what was going to happen, her mind raced as she prepared to place herself in the hands of an enemy.

~~*~~

Chapter 5

At three p.m. on May eighth, the Northumberland became property of the French. The officers were taken prisoner, the ship's sextant seized. The men who swore an oath not to mutiny could continue their work until the Northumberland made it back to France.

That left Isabelle. When Captain Cara learned of the passenger, he provided quarters for her and ensured her belongings were brought aboard the Atlas. He also invited Isabelle to dine with him. She refused the invitation quite vocally. Captain Cara made it, so quite simply, she did not eat that night.

The next day, the invitation was extended again. This time it came with a warning that such an invitation would not be extended a third time. Isabelle was angry and hungry, and she was unsure if the threat meant there would be no food if she refused the invitation. She conceded and accepted, but she was not happy.

As she entered his cabin, she intended to inform this devil captain, Captain Cara, exactly what was on her mind. But then she saw him. She found she couldn't speak. He wore a simple blouse with black trousers. There was no insignia of his rank visible on him, yet she knew this man was the captain. He had an aura of authority about him, and he was stunning. He had a broad chest, muscled arms from hard work, and a face that somehow she recognized. But surely she didn't know this man? She shook off the feeling and sat, trying to hold on to some of her anger and rage.

The captain began, "Wine Isabelle?"

"You can call me Mrs. Stanford or Milady."

"No to the wine then."

"Yes to the wine."

"Pardon me, Isabelle?"

"Yes to the wine."

"I'm sorry, Isabelle, I didn't hear you."

There was a pause as Isabelle struggled internally with being treated like a child. She finally answered with a tone that was far too sweet.

"Yes to the wine, please."

The captain ignored the sarcasm, and continued, 

"It is an excellent vintage. I am sure you'll enjoy it."

Alexandre poured Isabelle a glass, which she drank quickly. As it was the only sustenance she had in her system since breakfast the day prior, it went quickly to her head. Alexandre was sure of himself and able. It was obvious to her that he was a hard man, her empty stomach confirming that assumption. He continued to speak, "Tell me, Isabelle, does your husband please you?"

Isabelle was struck dumb again. She had to be mistaken; surely he hadn't just asked what she thought he asked.

"I ... I am not certain I understand the question."

"Does he please you in the bedroom."

Isabelle exploded, the wine and the anger caused by her hunger fueling her wrath.

"Captain Cara! That is a question best never asked. It is none of your business and none of your concern!"

She stormed, she blushed, she felt... exhilarated? Surely it was the wine.

The captain, not to be deterred, started on a different line of questioning. "Isabelle, is he your husband? I don't mean did you both go to a ceremony where some stodgy old man said some words and pronounced you man and wife. I mean, is he your husband? When you gaze into his eyes, do you see your soul? Do you see your partner, your true love? Is he the person that you know that you are supposed to be with? Do you feel it in your bones? Like knowing the sky is blue. You simply know."

Isabelle was furious. It was like he looked into her soul. She turned the question about.

"Are you married?" asked Isabelle.

Not flustered, by the deflection of his question, Alexandre simply answered, "I said some words in a church once, there was a woman who said some words, we were young, too young. She could not bear to have me gone; I could not bear to be near her. We have both moved on. Since then, I've not found the eyes of my dreams. So I would say that I am not married. The church would say otherwise. So Isabelle, does he please you?"

Isabelle, after a moment of quiet thought, remembered to be furious and got up. "Good night. 

I am a married woman. I don't need to listen to this. I will starve this evening rather than partake in this perverse conversation."

With that she got up from the table and made for the door. Alexandre grabbed her and kissed her. It was a kiss not born of simple physical lust, it was born of desire, a desire to recognize, a desire to know, a desire to explore. Isabelle fought his lips, his musky scent, his heavy hand on the back of her head, his fingers entwined in her hair. She fought, but not with all her might and not for long. Isabelle was smitten. The kiss lasted a little too long and was a little too good. It took her breath away. When Alexandre broke the kiss, Isabelle longed for it again. Did she feel his tongue in her mouth? Where did that thought come from? Surely she had never experienced anything like it before. Remembering herself, she turned to go.

"Isabelle."

She turned back to him. "Yes?" she said breathlessly.

"Better than..." He paused for effect. "...pirates?" 

Alexandre asked as he handed her back a book that was all too familiar to her, her journal where she recorded her thoughts about William, her doubts of marriage and most recently, her notions of pirates.

"Please dine with me again tomorrow evening."

Isabelle slammed the door and stormed back to her quarters. Alexandre smiled and issued an order to his steward: "Soleil, take a plate down to Isabelle."

Soleil quickly complied.

~~*~~

Chapter 6

Her quarters were an upgrade from the Northumberland. She was fuming. With only a half a glass of wine before storming out, she was hungry and humiliated. At least she had her journal. And she had been kissed like she had never been kissed before. If she closed her eyes the hunger was replaced by the kiss. She could still feel it; his lips as they pressed firmly onto hers, the parting of her lips, not willingly she was certain, his tongue first tentatively touching hers then becoming more urgent, his hand firmly on the back of her head holding her in place.

As she checked her journal; she was distracted by Alexandre. He was the most handsome man she had ever met, he had a wonderful beard slightly graying and the deepest brown eyes she had ever seen. She wanted to find out what had driven him to kiss her. Was it knowledge he found within these pages? Or was it something else? She read. She found her journal entries of William and her doubt about their marriage. She read her entries of hatred of all things intimate. Further down, she found her loves; her loves of all things science, of all things technical, her curiosity of how systems work. There were entries with comments on the latest scientific journals, complete with sketches and etchings. These were all things William thought were nonsense. They were part of her journal that she kept hidden. He wouldn't have his wife waste her time on them.

As she continued to read, she came across the truth. Her chats with Lieutenant Oxford on how British sailors worked. Alexandre must be looking for secrets. She was quite sure she didn't have any secrets.

She heard a knock and shook off her musings. 

"Come in."

"Captain's compliments."

With that Soleil put a tray of food down and withdrew. Isabelle attacked the food ravenously. She ate and drank until she was sated. Satisfied. Satisfied, that was it, wasn't it? William was not the person she needed to be with. But why did she come to this conclusion? With whom then? Was there someone? Was this yearning for someone simply part of her restlessness? She pondered this while framing it in Alexandre's words. She thought, William is not my husband. But how did she know this? That feeling of recognition for Alexandre came over her. She quickly dismissed it.

As she sat mulling over these questions, the kiss kept intruding. The wetness of the kiss seemed to be reflected in wetness between her legs. 

Something she had never felt before, not like this. All at once it came to her: the captain felt that perhaps she was his soul mate, his partner, his wife.

She realized the absurdity of this sentiment and at the same time she realized it had merit. She would accept his dinner invitation and they would discuss this absurdity as well as her lack of secrets. At least she would get some more of the excellent wine.

~~*~~