“My lady, that area isn’t suitable for a leisure trip. It’s unsafe.” The English captain - a gruff, bearded mountain of a man - was sorely disappointed that the person he was in charge of transporting was a noblewoman. I held up my hand to stop him.

     “Captain, while I appreciate your concern, I am not going on a leisure trip. I am going to survey my estate.” He narrowed his eyes at my engagement ring and attire, but I continued.     “There is already a small campsite there, and I am perfectly capable of setting up a tent. It’s nothing more than a length of waterproof canvas over a rope!” The mountain man looked to Josefa-Maria for help. The woman smiled wanly at him, unwilling to enter the line of fire.

     “Lady Isabelle...” He looked pained. “If any harm were to befall you, my lady- it would be a great risk for myself and my crew.”  Involuntarily, the captain glanced towards my ring again and then the fort. I gritted my teeth. I would have stayed on horseback if I had known I was going to have to fight my way onto the ship due to Ian’s protection. 

     “We’re not really to be unattended, Captain,” Josefa-Maria interjected sweetly. “Others in our party will be along later today and tomorrow. Two married couples,” she added for the benefit of his obvious misogyny.  

     After departing Fort St. Catherine, I’d taken Clover on a nice long thought processing ride. Between Anne’s reaction to my engagement and Ian’s reaction to his prospective sister-in-law, I had plenty to process. 

     It was an excellent time, I decided, to go and survey my new land.

     Then I’d returned to St. George’s, where, upon spying me, a pair of relieved looking soldiers had taken off towards the fort. To inform their commanding officer, I imagined.

     I’d written to several of my new contacts - the Lavignes, the Wallingtons, and Mr. Davies - apprising them of my plans and asking if they might be available. I had been highly impressed by Davies, who possessed a law degree and the confidence of a great many people on the island, including Anne and Ian. He had agreed to serve as my representative and steward. I needed the other men for business reasons also, and thought the ladies might be good company. 

     The Lavignes I expected that afternoon, while the others would arrive the following morning, and they would all be staying at Andrews’ estate, The Hundred Acre Wood, which shared a border with my own.

     Most assumed that I too would stay at Andrews, but I was looking forward to camping. At least in a tent you didn’t expect a proper bathroom. And other than Josefa-Maria, I’d be alone. Bliss.

     The captain was sufficiently mollified by Josefa-Maria’s update; I closed my eyes to keep from rolling them or giving him a dirty look.

    “Well done,” I whispered to Josefa-Maria as they began loading Clover and our belongings.

     We headed west, to the far tip of the island. It would later become the Naval Dockyard; Mom, Anne and I had toured the museum. 

     Anne.

     I groaned aloud at the thought of my sister, and one of the boat hands stared at me in concern, hurrying to drop a bucket near me. 

     I had so many questions. Anne had been coming back to this era for at least two years, and it was entirely possible that she had been doing it longer. It seemed unlikely that even Anne could have amassed a record and reputation of the kind Ian and the men at Tavern Rock had alluded to in such a short period. I thought again about the richly embroidered garments that had taken countless hours to complete, and the vast quantities of wealth she had stashed on the boat. Her secrets had secrets.  

     As we passed the point, heading for the U-shaped bend in the land, I noticed activity at our destination. The captain approached me, spyglass in hand and smiling with relief.

    “It appears that your companions have arrived early!” He was nearly crowing with relief. And little wonder - I’d overheard talk among the sailors about which of them would be assigned to stay behind and look after me.

     “May I, Captain?” I held out my hand for his spyglass, which he handed over after the slightest hesitation. Sure enough, there were several men - soldiers - setting up a camp and tents. They had two small boats docked at the shore line as well.         

     “What the hell,” I mumbled to myself. 

     Back in St. George’s, I had penned a letter to my fiancé (hopefully still my fiancé), letting him know that I would be taking a trip to familiarize myself with my newly acquired land. I hadn’t sent the message until just before boarding this ship, and yet now I was looking at soldiers. 

     Even worse, none of them were Ian. 

     Upon docking, Ross hastened to meet me, bowing deeply. “Lieutenant Commander Coventry assigned us to manage your camp. We were meant to have completed it before your arrival,” he added worriedly.

     For the briefest of moments I wondered how Ian could have possibly known. Of course, I realized. He had surely been informed by one of my guests. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lady Alice had put out an announcement. Hell, Anne probably knew by this point. 

     Nope. Not thinking about traitorous little sisters right now. Grrr.

     The boat hands set about unloading Clover and the gear - though what use I had for half of it, what with the entire camp already set up, I had no idea - and Josefa-Maria began sorting and organizing everything. I got to stand on the side like a useless noblewoman. I might as well be useless and on horseback, I decided, mounting the palfrey. I delighted in the audible gasps of shock, though I had the wherewithal not to show it openly. I led Clover slowly around the outskirts of the campsite, inspecting the place while the others worked on setting things up.

     Buy land, I thought, as I sat astride the palfrey. They’re not making it anymore. It was a great quote for a reason.

     Two hundred acres. So many options! And I would need to name it, of course. It was unbelievable and incredibly exciting - even if Anne somehow couldn’t or didn’t appreciate it.

     She really knew how to fuck up a good story. 

     I beckoned Ross over with a smile. He was sporting bruises from his encounter with Anne, I noticed, wincing. “I hate to ask you this, but I need to know,” I began slowly. “My captain. How is she doing?”

     His face twisted briefly before he remembered himself. “You are safe, my lady. She has been shackled.” 

     Shackled. My sister was shackled in a dungeon.

     “And,” Ross continued, shaking his head, “her cell has been cleaned,” he finished, clearly disgusted with what he considered to be preferential treatment.

    The lieutenant commander had thoroughly prepared his men, I noted as Clover  circled; they had all kinds of things I hadn’t even thought about. I thanked Ross and the others for their assistance as they finished, noting the absence of a personal missive from Ian.

     “I’d be grateful if you would be willing to deliver a message to Lieutenant Commander Coventry for me please,” I said to Ross. “Please tell him that he has my gratitude along with the gratitude of my entire family.” Yes, I know it was petty. No, I couldn’t resist.

     “Yes, my lady,” Ross replied. “Only, I’m not sure when I’ll see him next.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “Why, he’s ordered us to stay and guard this area.” He motioned to himself and the three other armed soldiers still milling around; the rest were boarding one of the rowboats, ready to head back to St. George’s. “I shall flag down another to pass along your words.”

     I stared at his back in bewilderment. Was he serious? I wanted alone time! “Guard this area? Guard it from what?” I gestured around at the cedar trees. “There’s nothing here!”

     One of the other soldiers approached, bowing to me deferentially. He looked very young, junior in college tops. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but the militias rove these lands.” Definitely a gentleman, I thought. His accent and manner screamed upper class. “Not to mention escaped Africans and others. It wouldn’t be prudent to leave you here unattended, my lady.” 

     Escaped...Africans? I shook my head. So Ian had sent protection, and it seemed like we actually needed it. Great. Biting my tongue, I nodded, resisting the urge to throw up my hands and yell and then scream and yell some more. “I see. Thank you...?” 

     “I am Officer Cadet Andrew Dormer, my lady.” He bowed again.

     “Thank you very much.” I could plaster a polite smile on my face, but I was in too awful of a mood to repeat all of his names.

     Josefa-Maria and I settled in. Despite her dismay, I insisted on managing the food, assigning her to work on the comfort of the tent we would be sharing. Not that there was much to do. The soldiers had taken care of everything.

     I stirred the pot - a hearty amount from the veritable vat of stew I had made this morning - and warmed up some bread in a small skillet. Then the fire went out, and I swore. “Damn it.”

     Josefa-Maria peeked out of the tent. “My lady?”

     “It’s nothing.,” I said, opening the tinderbox.

     The maid frowned deeply, then opened her mouth, apparently to protest my self-sufficiency, but paused when I rekindled the fire with only a few tries tries, to her amazement. It was a tinderbox, for crying out loud, and yet Josefa-Maria watched me, entranced. Were noblewomen here really so helpless? I shook my head. No wonder no one expected anything of me. I knew all kinds of ways to make fire without a lighter; flint and steel was one of the easier ones. Yet another lifelong souvenir from Cabo. I had learned a lot there, I thought, grinning to myself wistfully. I added some wood to the fire, grateful for the prep work the soldiers had done. And, of course, grateful that Ian had sent them for me in the first place.

     Ross and the others were eyeing the pot, enticed by the smell and openly confounded by my presence at the fire. “You’re welcome to share with us,” I called to them. Josefa-Maria was waiting to serve me when I turned around. “Would you like to eat around the fire? Or in the tent?” There were pros and cons to each location--

     “Forgive me. Are you, perhaps, inviting me to dine with you, Lady Isabelle?”

     “Of course. What else would I do, send you off to eat in the dark someplace?” I shook my head, but she didn’t seem to think it was that absurd of an idea. She hesitated for a long, uncomfortable minute.

      Uh-oh. “Have I upset you,  Josefa-Maria?” I was sure I was missing something, I just wasn’t sure what.

     “My lady, I may not dine with you. It is not done.” Her cheeks were much pinker than usual. “I shall dine with the soldiers.”

     “Oh. Yes. Of course.” I plastered a smile on my face, but I felt like she had punched me in the stomach. Izzy, you idiot. Of course she didn’t want to hang out with me. Who wants to hang out with their boss? I wouldn’t volunteer to spend any time with Felix – and I had never had to empty his chamber pot. “Enjoy your dinner.”

     “Thank you, my lady. I hope that you enjoy yours as well.”

     I was an idiot. Here I was, thinking about chatting with her by the fire, taking the time to get to know her and she probably couldn’t wait to get away from me. It felt like a brutal rejection. 

It was a week for rejections, apparently. Coming and going. I could only imagine what my sister thought of me right now. 

     Don’t you dare start fucking crying, Isabelle.

     Okay, no, I was probably going to cry, but at least I could do it inside the tent, smothered into a blanket or something to preserve some shred of dignity. I stopped in my tracks upon opening the flap.

     “Jesus,” I breathed. The inside was shockingly well-appointed. I had been planning on roughing it for a few days, but the lieutenant commander had arranged for a setup that was nearly as good as my room in the inn. I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or horrified. Like, why was there a real bed? And rugs? And a proper table? And a couch? This was supposed to be camping, for fucks sake. Where had he even gotten all of this stuff‽

     Within the tent, Josefa-Maria had laid out the stew, bread and wine in a very respectable manner. There were even flowers and silverware.

          It looked lovely. It felt empty.

     Outside, the laughter and relaxed chatter of the others filled the air as I washed my hands.

     Absently, I noted their enjoyment of the stew and bread. It sounded like they were having a great time. At home I would have been sitting and joking right along with them. 

     Well. I had finally gotten my alone time. It was much less satisfying than I had expected.

     “This sucks,” I told my stew. 

     And then the tears started. Right on cue.

     The logical part of me said that I should have taken Anne up on her completely rational offer to get out of the Renaissance period and go home, back to clean water, advanced medical care, the ability to wear shorts when it was hot - back to normalcy.  That was the responsible, logical thing to do. But what if, for once, I didn’t want to be responsible? What if I wanted a chance to try out life in the 1600s, too?

    Sure, my ideas for expanding the menu at the inn were off to a slow start - people here did not have the most adventurous palates - but I had never been one to shrink away from a rewarding challenge. Two hundred acres of raw frontier land was almost certain to present more of those - and I would never, ever, get an opportunity like this at home.

     Luck is when opportunity meets preparation. Anne had brought me here with a chest of luxurious local clothing made with modern fabrics, chests of gold, and a title. She’d been preparing for this opportunity for sometime and Lady Isabelle had gotten unfathomably lucky. 

     Lady Isabelle. I shivered. I didn't feel a need to look at myself in the mirror anymore.

     I didn’t know if that was a good thing.

     I missed Ian. I wondered if he still wanted to marry me, which was absolutely ridiculous in light of...well, everything. And yet, the idea that he might not twisted my stomach into knots.

     With a heavy sigh, I gave myself a deadline: I would drink and smoke and wallow for up to two hours, and then I had work to do. Sitting idle had never been good for me.

     I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and paused. Mom would have been delighted to see me in my riding habit. She had bribed us into playing dress up for social media pictures for ages, thrilling in showing us off to her friends since childhood, Diane and Isabelle, perfect little socialites in training. My sister much preferred to be the Dread Pirate Anne, but she was willing to do ‘proper’ tea times for short periods if I wheedled. 

     I had almost been trained to play the part of Lady Isabelle.

     Anne and I had been two peas in a pod before my accident, two adorable, energetic little peas. Best friends before we were sisters. And then I’d had to put myself back together. From scratch. No parents. Broken body. Emotions all over the map. I raged and rebelled until Dr. Chabliss helped me understand how to put myself back together and climb out of the abyss. She had been the one who suggested therapeutic horseback riding as part of my recovery, and I’d gotten really into it. I was so into it that our parents bought me a horse. Yeah. I know. It was some real rich girl shit. Anne and I named her Princess Jasmine.

     I spent hours riding her around the property and training for competitions and other equine-related activities. Rules and structure became my coping mechanisms for everything. My inner rebel never really quieted, though; she just learned how to work within the system.

     Still, I never would have made it without Anne. 

     We had done so much together. Cotillion. Sail club. The plethora of formal dinners, parties, fundraisers, charity balls, and other events. Not to mention the years she’d carried my emergency bag. 

     And what had she done without me? Somehow between the homecoming dances and failed French exams my sister had managed to become a real life version of the Dread Pirate Anne and now sat shackled in a dungeon.

     Distractedly, I noticed that the cadence of conversation outside had changed. An orchard would also be a good addition, I thought, jotting down some ideas for fruit trees. Cedar and fruit. I could work with that. Bermuda cedar was highly valued for shipbuilding, and if we did it sustainably, we could harvest from this land for decades.

    With charcoal, I worked on trying to duplicate the images in my mind. The museum tour was so long ago, and I hadn’t memorized these things. How many masts? What were the shapes of the sails? And there were the sloops, I remembered. Bermuda sloops. They were named after the island... 

     There were footsteps outside; someone was at the opening to the tent. 

     “Lady Isabelle?” Josefa-Maria poked her head in. 

     “Yes?”

     “Lady Isabelle.” 

     I turned in surprise. It was him. “Lieutenant Commander!” I stood up, startled. What was he doing here?

     I nodded at Josefa-Maria’s look, and she withdrew. I poured both of us wine before I said anything further to him; I needed a minute. “Hello.” I handed it over to him without making eye contact.

     “Hello,” he replied. He sounded so different that I was finally forced to look at him. The lieutenant commander’s face was a mask, but his eyes were clearly troubled.

     Oh. He had come to end things, then. I took a deep breath and focused on one of the rugs, trying to steady myself.

     It’s fine, Isabelle. You have two hundred acres. You can build a new life out here and make friends with the chickens and goats and things while you wait out Anne’s sentence. You’ll have a couple of your own boats that you can sail into town when you feel like having human companionship. And Mr. Andrews was nearby-ish. Maybe I could go hang out with him from time to time if I brought wine or food.

     “I know you are displeased with me. Still,” he continued, “I was told a boyfriend provides a good night kiss.”

     “Boyfriend?” I looked up at him sharply. “Have we regressed, then?” He reached out, gently rubbing my shoulders.

     “I do believe this garment becomes more appealing each time I see you in it,” he mused quietly. So. He was going with the ‘let her down easy’ style of breakup. 

     “Ian.” I was going to be mature about this. I swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden lump in my throat, then backed away from him. “I want you to know that I am perfectly capable of interacting with you in a civil manner. You don’t need to worry about me behaving ungraciously when I see you in public or at events--”

     “What do you mean?” he frowned at me. I couldn’t look at him. “Isabelle?”

     “I would understand...” my voice faltered, and I steeled myself to continue. “I would understand entirely if you’ve changed your mind. If you,” I cleared my throat. “If you wanted to rescind your proposal. I would not be a petty ex-fiancée, I assure you.” My hands drifted to my stomach, trying to press out the tight knot I could feel growing.

     The ring. It was only polite to return it. And the necklace, of course -

     “I have not come to end our betrothal, my lady.” Ian was resolute, and yet I still found myself dazed.

     “You- you haven’t?”

     “I have not, Isabelle.” He took my hands, holding them to his chest. I could feel his heart beating. His voice dropped. “There is news.”

     The tone of his voice alarmed me. 

     “What sort of news?”

     “I will be called up. Soon, it seems.”

     Called up? “Do you mean- called to England? To fight?”
     “More than one month, less than three. As best I can estimate.”

     My stomach dropped. Those were mere weeks. “Seriously?” 

     He nodded at me, his face and eyes solemn. This was the reason for the look in his eyes. “I want you to be my wife before that time comes, more than anything. If you will still have me,” he continued, licking his lips nervously. He was very agitated, I noticed. I’d never seen him be anything less than thoroughly confident when approaching me.

     “Yes. Yes, of course,” I was ridiculously relieved despite the other part of his news. One thing at a time.  I raised up to give him a quick peck, mindful that the soldiers and Josefa-Maria had gotten very hushed. They were most likely listening to everything they could.

     “We spoke about a date several months hence. I think an earlier date would be more apt.” He waited for me to process that before continuing. “One month?”

     “One month?” 

     Ian nodded. “It is soon.”

     “We could do it sooner,” I replied.

     “I asked,” Ian said, frowning. “I conferred with Lady Alice and Lady Wallington and I was soundly assured that thirty to thirty-five days would be the soonest that a wedding of the required magnitude could successfully be arranged.”

     I shot him an amused look despite myself. “You conferred with them?” 

     Ian laughed. “Not entirely. I was set upon by Lady Wallington the day of our betrothal and Lady Alice regarding during the boat ride.”

     “The Lavignes are here?”

     “Yes. They’ve reconsidered your offer to make camp.”

     “Really? Why? I thought the others hated the idea of sleeping in tents and such.”

     Ian’s eyes sparkled. “It’s a bit of a favor to me, you see. I will be staying here as well, with my valet, of course.”

     “I see.” Now the three tents made sense. “What sort of a favor would entice the Lavignes into such an arrangement?”

     He allowed himself a smug grin. “Lavigne had a particularly rough night at Triomphe recently. I agreed to release him from his debt to me in exchange for this. We require a chaperone,” he added, looking mildly guilty. 

     “How long are you holding them captive here?” I teased, wrapping my arms around his neck.

     “The wager was for a significant amount.” I raised an eyebrow, amused at his pride. “Until you are ready to depart for town. Or until I am called back to the fort.” He frowned heavily. “But I do not believe that I am prepared to leave you in this untamed area.” Ian brushed a loose curl from my face, then leaned down and kissed me, very chastely. It still made my heart race. 

     “One month,” I said, leaning into him. His hands slowly stroked up and down my back. “My sister, how is she?”

     “Lady Anne--”

     “Captain,” I corrected him immediately. “I’m sure it offends your sensibilities, but she would not like to be addressed as ‘Lady Anne’, I assure you.”

     Ian made an odd face. “Your captain is awake and likely fit to resume her usual troublemaking, I have no doubt.” 

     “You saw her?” 

     He nodded. “As a gesture, to you, my beloved, I promise you I will not have your....sister executed,” Ian announced.

     My mouth dropped open and leaned back to look at him. “What? That was an option‽”

     “Of course.” He looked as though I had asked for confirmation that fish were in fact able to live in water.

     “The Crown just murders all troublemakers?”

     “It isn’t murder,” Ian replied strictly. “There are laws and regulations, and consequences for those who do not follow such.”

     I scoffed. “What about rehabilitation?”

     Ian sighed heavily. “I am certain this is another pastoral concept from your land that I am not familiar with.”

     “Speaking of concepts from my land...” I tilted my head to look up at him. “Now that we’ve made up, in my culture, we would have makeup sex.” I looked at him hopefully.

     Those beautiful, intense eyes of his bore into mine with curiosity; his voice was a whisper when he spoke again. “Tell me what you mean by ‘sex’.”

     “You don’t know the word?” He shook his head.  Jesus. How the hell was sex not a word yet?? I made the gesture. You know the one - you turn one hand into a hole, and then one of the fingers from your other hand goes in and out of the hole. 

     Y’all. I have never wished to have a video of someone’s facial expressions more. The transition from utter confusion to gradual, appalled understanding, then excitement and arousal, and then onto startled shock at my daring. His face was red by the time it all finished. Admittedly, I didn’t help matters much by biting my lip and smirking at him suggestively when he finally dared to look me in the eyes, but, I mean, my god, it was too much.

     “Your face,” I gasped, between paroxysms of laughter.

     His mouth twitched, but he was much less amused than I was.

     I pulled myself together and put on an appearance of semi-respectability. “Sit with me?” I moved to the couch, patting the empty space beside me.

     Ian sat, giving me a curious, disturbed look. “Dearest,” he paused, then took my hand. “Were you truly planning to stay out here with only your maid? This is a wild and dangerous area.”

     “No comment,” I mumbled. Honestly? I was super fucking embarrassed. I thought that the boat captain was just an asshole, but it turned out that he was right. I was a dumb girl in a place I had no business being, just like he thought.

     Ian eyed me in obvious bafflement. “Really, Isabelle, I marvel at your naivete on some subjects.”

     “I thought I knew things about this area. But I was wrong. I should be better armed,” I realized aloud. “These pig stickers I have aren’t going to do much.” And I’d had to leave my damn pepper spray on the boat.

     “Why would you need to be armed? You shall have guards--”

     I groaned. “Please, for the love of everything, do not finish that sentence. As much as I appreciate your forethought and the presence of your men, I do not wish to be solely dependent on others to protect me.”

Ian took a moment to process. “This is something common among ladies in California?” He asked, eyes narrowed. I was fairly certain he was thinking about Anne.

     “I wouldn’t say it’s common, exactly, but a good number of us like to be able to defend ourselves. I’ve taken a few self-defense classes, but I’m nowhere near Anne’s level.” My sister was a fighting master. Again, I wondered how she had gotten so skillful.

     “What did you have in mind, my lady?” He sounded resigned.

     “I don’t suppose you know what a compound bow is?” 

     “I do not believe I am familiar with this.”

     “I didn’t think you would have them here.” I shook my head. “I need a bow I can use on horseback. Can you get me a recurve bow with the proper arrows? And a handgun. A pistol,” I corrected at his confused look. “And whatever you use for ammunition. We call them bullets at home, but I don’t know the word here.”

     “In the meantime, I expect you--” The lieutenant commander paused, looking me over. “You are currently armed, yes?” His voice was very strict. 

     I chuckled. “You know I have a knife--”

    “Yes, yes, I do know,” he replied, flushing pink. “Where’s your dagger?” He tapped my belt. 

     “Really?”

     “I insist on it. If you’re going to traipse about here--”

     “Hey!” He seemed startled by my interruption. “I am working on my land. This is hardly traipsing. Why does everyone seem to think that I’m out here to frolic?”

     Ian pondered me, puzzled. “You do you know that you could have simply sent people out here to manage these things for you, yes?”

     I threw up my hands in frustration. “Of course I know that. But that doesn’t seem like a very wise way to make plans or run a business. I need to be able to be here myself or else I’m just letting other people make my decisions for me.”

     “Very well, my lady.”

     I narrowed my eyes. That sounded an awful lot like ‘yes, dear’. He chuckled at my expression. “Don’t laugh at me!” I moved to give him a playful shove, and he caught my hand, kissing it and then me. 

     “Have you eaten?” I asked, then asked Josefa-Maria to bring him food. I turned to see Ian twisting his mouth uncertainly. She curtsied and exited and I turned to see Ian twisting his mouth uncertainly. “Ian, I swear, you better stop looking terrified every time I offer you food. You know it smells good,” I added in a singsong.

     He smiled. “The aroma is quite pleasant.” After I fed him - he wolfed down two bowls, thank you very much - Ian and I spent a fair amount of time and wine looking over the notes I’d written and the ideas I’d sketched out. He recognized some of the basic ship outlines I’d done and was able to correct and clarify my work.

     We stole a series of increasingly less pure kisses until Josefa-Maria called me from outside the flap; Ian and I had been chatting and more for hours; the Lavignes were heading to bed shortly and I hadn’t even been out to greet them yet.

     “Please let them know we’ll be right out.” I turned back to Ian once she stepped out, grinning broadly. “One last kiss good night, my love,” I murmured. My fiancé (!) really was amazing.