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"I don't believe what I'm hearing." She whispered, staring at him with her sea-blue eyes, which displayed an array of emotions, not the least of which were hurt and anger.

"Abigail, you cannot possibly know how hard this is on me, as well. Please try to understand that this is for the better; for both of us." He hid is own inner pain from her; he couldn't let her know how much he hated doing this, how much he longed for nothing more than to hold her and kiss her until the day they died in each other's arms, but he knew that could never be. He wanted to bend to one knee and ask her to spend the rest of her days with him, but she deserved so much more than the peasant he was, and the path he was turning down now... he couldn't put her through the stress of never knowing if the man she loved would return.

"'For the better'?" Abigail mimicked hollowly. "How can that be? I love you! I thought you..." Abigail sighed and turned, looking away from the man who stood before her. He stood tall and proud, although at this moment, there was a droop in his shoulders, and his eyes looked dark and sad. His black-brown curly hair fell in ringlets to his shoulders and the waist coat he wore had tears in it from age. His young and handsome face lacked the smile that had enchanted her so, and the luster and light in his eyes was vacant. Abigail came from a high society, while Peter was only a merchant's apprentice. Her dress was immaculate, and her pale, silvery-white blonde hair was pulled up in an aristocratic style, exposing the long neck and its delicate skin; a neck Peter desperately wished he could kiss softly.

"I..." Peter hesitated. It would break his own heart to tell her the words he felt he needed to say, but he averted his eyes, and whispered, "I do not love you."

The silence that followed was heavier than lead, and when at last Abigail spoke, he barely heard her voice. "You lie!"

"Nay, my lady. I have only pursued you to attain your wealth, but another option has presented itself that is more favorable. To it... I must go."

Peter hated himself for the words he was saying. He began to rapidly reconsider, thinking of falling to his knees before her, denying everything he had just said, and begging forgiveness, but he had to do this. He had to set her free. It would not do to have romance in the line of work into which he was heading.

"Then to it, you go now," Abigail whispered, her voice sounding distant.

She prayed that she would wake from this nightmare and find it all to be a cruel joke, and that the sun would warm the cold that enveloped her. Without another word, Abigail turned, and after meeting Peter's eyes with a look of ice through the hurt, she calmly turned from him, gracefully walking to the door of his cottage, her years of practiced control as a lady descending from a wealthy family allowing her to maintain her composure. She opened the door, and without looking back, walked through, allowing it to close shut behind her. After a moment Peter felt his legs involuntarily guide him to the window, and he watched her walk out of his life, the feeling piercing his heart as much as any dagger could.

Abigail maintained control of her emotions until she reached the gate leading to her father's mansion home. She abruptly threw it open and rushed up to her bedroom and wept, ignoring the concerned questions and looks of both servants and family.

Ten Years Later

He stalked through the house, rapier and musket in hand. Any who were still within fled at his coming, and he allowed them to go. He only caused minimal bloodshed; just enough to sate the appetite of his crew. He entered a large room, and was surprised to find a woman dressed in a deep red gown standing by the window, looking calmly out at the sea, her hair a river of silver cascading down her back in the soft light of the moon. The Pirate grinned wickedly.

"Yer a brave lass, missy, to not flinch when a pirate enters... yer bedroom."

The woman slowly turned to face him, and when she saw him, her cool and collected demeanor instantly changed. Her eyes widened, and she gasped, taking a step back while her hand came to her throat in shock. The pirate stared back at her in disbelief. Never in his wildest fantasies did he dream that he would ever behold her face again. The curve of her mouth, that he still so longed to kiss, the line of her neck and jawbone, so delicate and fine, her sparkling eyes and shining hair...he sighed to himself. Why was she in this place?

"Abigail..."

She continued to stare in shock. He had changed so much, yet she still knew him instantly. His voice was no longer the smooth and eloquent baritone it had once been, but was now husky and rough, and his speech patterns had also undergone a change. His skin was tanned deeply from countless hours of sunlight and harsh weather, and the smoothness of his features had been replaced by a rougher, more masculine appearance. It somehow made him even more appealing. She immediately rejected those thoughts.

"Yer even more beautiful than I remember, even in my dreams."

"What are you doing here?" Abigail asked harshly. "And you will not address me in that manner. You left me, if you remember? I will not condone that kind of talk."

Peter laughed. "Do ye think I care about yer morals any more, Abigail? I'm not the man I used to be. This is the reason I left ye – I felt ye deserved better than I could give ya, so I set ye free."

"You thought leaving me to become a pirate was more important?"

Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Abigail, I could never have been anything better than this. Ye know I tried. This is the life I was meant to take."

Abigail turned away from him, and finally spoke, her voice sounding defeated, but still strong. "Just... leave. I had hoped never to see you again."

"Ye always were the strong kind o' woman, but ye forget who yer dealin' with now, darlin'."

Suddenly Abigail felt a pair of powerful hands take her arms and turn her back around to face the man she had spent ten years trying to forget. She felt a spark of fear ignite in her heart and she tried to pull away. Peter sighed.

"I ain't gonna do anythin' to harm ye, Abigail," he reassured softly, "it's just... been so long since I've seen ye. Yer the secret I've kept to meself. I've never stopped lovin' ye, woman. I just didn't deserve ye."

Abigail sighed, and the tenseness of her body lessened somewhat. She looked at him with sad eyes. "Shouldn't I have been the one to decide that, Peter?"

Their eyes met, and slowly Peter nodded. "Aye...ye should have, and I'll never forgive meself for me blunder, but it's too late now."

Peter suddenly pulled her against him, more boldly than she knew he would have in the past, and breathed her in deeply. To her, he smelt of sand and sea and warmth; involuntarily, she felt her eyes close, and a sigh of contentment escaped her lips. Together they stayed like that – frozen in time – but it was never going to be enough for either of them before Peter pulled away, hearing shouting from the rooms on the lower floor.

"I best be getting' on, darlin'. But not before takin' the one thing I want."

Before she could react, Peter swept her up into his strong arms and kissed her fully and passionately, tipping her back slightly. At first, she wanted to balk; this was such a change from the gentlemanly way he had once behaved, but she was shocked to find that she quickly grew accustomed to the change, and was enjoying it. She wrapped her arms around him, and returned the kiss, giving more of herself into it than she ever had before.

Finally they parted, and he stepped back from her, smiling a devilishly charming smile, though behind his eyes there was a familiar sadness. "Ye still love me, too, Abby. Ye still love me."

He continued to back away until reaching the balcony, her hand in his rough, calloused one. Then, abruptly, he whirled, and was gone, leaving only the scent of sand and sea.

Description
"I don't believe what I'm hearing." She whispered, staring at him with her sea-blue eyes, which displayed an array of emotions, not the least of which were hurt and anger.

"Abigail, you cannot possibly know how hard this is on me, as well. Please try to understand that this is for the better; for both of us." He hid is own inner pain from her; he couldn't let her know how much he hated doing this, how much he longed for nothing more than to hold her and kiss her until the day they died in each other's arms, but he knew that could never be. He wanted to bend to one knee and ask her to spend the rest of her days with him, but she deserved so much more than the peasant he was, and the path he was turning down now... he couldn't put her through the stress of never knowing if the man she loved would return.

"'For the better'?" Abigail mimicked hollowly. "How can that be? I love you! I thought you..." Abigail sighed and turned, looking away from the man who stood before her. He stood tall and proud, although at this moment, there was a droop in his shoulders, and his eyes looked dark and sad. His black-brown curly hair fell in ringlets to his shoulders and the waist coat he wore had tears in it from age. His young and handsome face lacked the smile that had enchanted her so, and the luster and light in his eyes was vacant. Abigail came from a high society, while Peter was only a merchant's apprentice. Her dress was immaculate, and her pale, silvery-white blonde hair was pulled up in an aristocratic style, exposing the long neck and its delicate skin; a neck Peter desperately wished he could kiss softly.

"I..." Peter hesitated. It would break his own heart to tell her the words he felt he needed to say, but he averted his eyes, and whispered, "I do not love you."

The silence that followed was heavier than lead, and when at last Abigail spoke, he barely heard her voice. "You lie!"

"Nay, my lady. I have only pursued you to attain your wealth, but another option has presented itself that is more favorable. To it... I must go."

Peter hated himself for the words he was saying. He began to rapidly reconsider, thinking of falling to his knees before her, denying everything he had just said, and begging forgiveness, but he had to do this. He had to set her free. It would not do to have romance in the line of work into which he was heading.

"Then to it, you go now," Abigail whispered, her voice sounding distant.

She prayed that she would wake from this nightmare and find it all to be a cruel joke, and that the sun would warm the cold that enveloped her. Without another word, Abigail turned, and after meeting Peter's eyes with a look of ice through the hurt, she calmly turned from him, gracefully walking to the door of his cottage, her years of practiced control as a lady descending from a wealthy family allowing her to maintain her composure. She opened the door, and without looking back, walked through, allowing it to close shut behind her. After a moment Peter felt his legs involuntarily guide him to the window, and he watched her walk out of his life, the feeling piercing his heart as much as any dagger could.

Abigail maintained control of her emotions until she reached the gate leading to her father's mansion home. She abruptly threw it open and rushed up to her bedroom and wept, ignoring the concerned questions and looks of both servants and family.

Ten Years Later

He stalked through the house, rapier and musket in hand. Any who were still within fled at his coming, and he allowed them to go. He only caused minimal bloodshed; just enough to sate the appetite of his crew. He entered a large room, and was surprised to find a woman dressed in a deep red gown standing by the window, looking calmly out at the sea, her hair a river of silver cascading down her back in the soft light of the moon. The Pirate grinned wickedly.

"Yer a brave lass, missy, to not flinch when a pirate enters... yer bedroom."

The woman slowly turned to face him, and when she saw him, her cool and collected demeanor instantly changed. Her eyes widened, and she gasped, taking a step back while her hand came to her throat in shock. The pirate stared back at her in disbelief. Never in his wildest fantasies did he dream that he would ever behold her face again. The curve of her mouth, that he still so longed to kiss, the line of her neck and jawbone, so delicate and fine, her sparkling eyes and shining hair...he sighed to himself. Why was she in this place?

"Abigail..."

She continued to stare in shock. He had changed so much, yet she still knew him instantly. His voice was no longer the smooth and eloquent baritone it had once been, but was now husky and rough, and his speech patterns had also undergone a change. His skin was tanned deeply from countless hours of sunlight and harsh weather, and the smoothness of his features had been replaced by a rougher, more masculine appearance. It somehow made him even more appealing. She immediately rejected those thoughts.

"Yer even more beautiful than I remember, even in my dreams."

"What are you doing here?" Abigail asked harshly. "And you will not address me in that manner. You left me, if you remember? I will not condone that kind of talk."

Peter laughed. "Do ye think I care about yer morals any more, Abigail? I'm not the man I used to be. This is the reason I left ye – I felt ye deserved better than I could give ya, so I set ye free."

"You thought leaving me to become a pirate was more important?"

Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Abigail, I could never have been anything better than this. Ye know I tried. This is the life I was meant to take."

Abigail turned away from him, and finally spoke, her voice sounding defeated, but still strong. "Just... leave. I had hoped never to see you again."

"Ye always were the strong kind o' woman, but ye forget who yer dealin' with now, darlin'."

Suddenly Abigail felt a pair of powerful hands take her arms and turn her back around to face the man she had spent ten years trying to forget. She felt a spark of fear ignite in her heart and she tried to pull away. Peter sighed.

"I ain't gonna do anythin' to harm ye, Abigail," he reassured softly, "it's just... been so long since I've seen ye. Yer the secret I've kept to meself. I've never stopped lovin' ye, woman. I just didn't deserve ye."

Abigail sighed, and the tenseness of her body lessened somewhat. She looked at him with sad eyes. "Shouldn't I have been the one to decide that, Peter?"

Their eyes met, and slowly Peter nodded. "Aye...ye should have, and I'll never forgive meself for me blunder, but it's too late now."

Peter suddenly pulled her against him, more boldly than she knew he would have in the past, and breathed her in deeply. To her, he smelt of sand and sea and warmth; involuntarily, she felt her eyes close, and a sigh of contentment escaped her lips. Together they stayed like that – frozen in time – but it was never going to be enough for either of them before Peter pulled away, hearing shouting from the rooms on the lower floor.

"I best be getting' on, darlin'. But not before takin' the one thing I want."

Before she could react, Peter swept her up into his strong arms and kissed her fully and passionately, tipping her back slightly. At first, she wanted to balk; this was such a change from the gentlemanly way he had once behaved, but she was shocked to find that she quickly grew accustomed to the change, and was enjoying it. She wrapped her arms around him, and returned the kiss, giving more of herself into it than she ever had before.

Finally they parted, and he stepped back from her, smiling a devilishly charming smile, though behind his eyes there was a familiar sadness. "Ye still love me, too, Abby. Ye still love me."

He continued to back away until reaching the balcony, her hand in his rough, calloused one. Then, abruptly, he whirled, and was gone, leaving only the scent of sand and sea.