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But we do have our differences." Captain Lizzy walked to the rail and looked out past Captain Frakes. "For one thing, I still have control of my ship."

Spinning around, he watched the Martin Luther sailing away. It must have cast off as soon as he left the ship, for even through his spyglass the ship of the line looked small. "What the Devil is going on there?"

"I'd wager it's a mutiny, Captain, perhaps the fastest ever committed."

Captain Boyle examined her stranded visitor as he watched his ship, his crew, his entire life sail off into the west. His face remained stoic and stern so she could only guess at the emotions beneath. Was he cursing his former crew in rage, striving not to panic, or simply dumbstruck at this turn of events? Boyle stepped closer to better inspect the deposed shipmaster; his shoulders were an inch or two higher than her own, and nearly twice as wide. The hands resting on her railing were broad, scarred and callused. Grey hair covered the sides and back of his head, and were creeping into the brown hair on the top. His face was hard, not just fixed with a grim expression but worn down, as if by years staring straight into salty winds. He looked like a remarkably fit man almost twice her age. This was a disturbing surprise, as everything she had ever heard of the pirate hunter said he was supposed to be a few years older at the most.

When the Martin Luther became a dot on the horizon, it seemed to lose it's hold on it's former master. Turning around, he leaned against the rail and lowered his shaking head. "What was I thinking?"

"You wanted me for yourself, perhaps?" Frakes looked in confusion at Captain Boyle, who grinned back. "You were thinking I invited you over for tea and feared competing with your crew for my attention. Or were you asking someone else, Sir?"

"Just what are you doing here, on this ship, within this sea?" Frakes stood up straight and looked down, slightly, at her. "And I remind you, mutiny or not, I am still an officer of His Majesty's Navy. Play games with me at your own peril."

"I do not fear any peril." Captain Boyle stepped towards Frakes, who backed up against the rail. Before he could sidestep she trapped him with her body. Their chests pressed together, their noses almost touched and her predatory jade eyes challenged his guarded brown ones. Boyle could feel the quickening of his heart beat through her breasts, betraying a mixture of apprehension and excitement Sir Frakes could keep from showing in his face, but not his loins...

"Please, Captain Boyle" He inhaled deeply and tried to shift his right leg away from her, but confined as he was, there was nowhere for it to go. "I only ask what your purpose here is."

"I am simply waiting, Sir," she lowered her right arm and slid her hand between Frakes and herself, "for the crew to return with supplies."

"And the purpose of the crew, and your ship?"

"Well, it's rather useless to have one without the other, My Lord."

"Obviously."

"I've heard Lord Frakes, that you've seen every pirate you've captured hanged. Is this true?"

"Yes, until recently."

"Then we have a problem, Sir. You see, I'm not sure it's safe to tell you what we do on the Siren, which means..."

"There's only one kind of ship it could be."

"Devilishly inconvenient, isn't it, My Lord? Whatever shall we do with you?"

Frakes looked down to see the slender fingers he felt brushing his leg ever so slightly, then snapped his head back up as he looked once again into her dark cleavage instead. Only her eyes showed that she noticed; her eyes and her questing fingers. They ran intermittently across his muscular leg, sending currents through his cotton britches and getting closer to his expanding cock each time. He tried to push her hand away but found himself holding it. The currents from holding her hand were even stronger, and he quickly let go. Desperate for a way to get any sort of space between them, he finally remembered His Majesty's damned pardon.

"Captain Boyle, you remember I said I brought in pirates to be hanged, o

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