***

Claire found Isabelle in the corral exercising one of her horses, a sleek roan which she was lunging. The gelding practically danced on the end of the rope as it circled her. Isabelle held one end of the lead rope, and in her other she held a carriage whip, which she dangled just behind the horse to encourage him along.

Claire came up to the railing and folded her arms along the top rail. She loved to watch Isabelle with her horses. She exuded such confidence and her charges responded to her with a natural trust.

Her friend finally took notice of her and called out. "Good morning, Claire. What brings you here?"

"I came to convince you to come to the dance."

"We already discussed this."

"Yes, but I think it is wrong! They have no right to say who can or can't come to a dance."

Isabelle sighed lightly at her innocence. "Of course, they can. They are powerful and influential people."

"And extremely bigoted."

"Well, yes, they are that as well."

"They are all jerks."

"Claire!" Isabelle laughed at her friend's outburst. It was so unlike her but then again, it was. She cared so much for justice; it was what drove her to be a journalist, but she was so very naive in the harsh ways of the world.

The horse tossed its head, causing the rope to tug in her hand. She adjusted her grip and settled the animal with soft clucking noises.

"Well, it's the truth," Claire insisted.

"Yes, I suppose it is."

Isabelle lowered her whip and opened her arms, signaling the horse that its exercise was at an end. The roan trotted to a halt and approached her, nickering softly. Taking hold of its halter, she approached Claire, determination set in her visage.

"You will never change people overnight. Colin has been trying to do so for years. It's a difficult and arduous fight."

"But Mrs. Titchmarsh is a hypocrite."

"No argument there, but what can be done about it?" There was a defeatist tone present as she shoved the muzzle of the horse away as it pulled at her sleeve for attention.

"Come to the party."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Really, Claire."

"Why not? Wouldn't you love to get back at them? After all, Mr. Titchmarsh had no right to give up your contract to that weasel Fairfax!"

"That was business. It had nothing to do with the church social."

Claire leaned forward conspiratively. "Didn't it?"

"Claire..."

"I wouldn't be surprised. She has always been against you from the start."

"That's her right."

"No, it isn't. Not when it's at the expense of good people. You're good people, Isabelle."

"I know that, Claire. If it is one thing you needn't be worried about is that fact."

Claire nodded. She did understand that, but she wanted more. "I want everyone to know that," she insisted.

"That's a very long list," replied Isabelle with a laugh. She began walking back to the stable, her mount following placidly after. Claire came along as well. "I'm content that you know it," Isabelle told her young friend.

"I'll be satisfied just to get Mrs. Titchmarsh and the other church ladies to know it."

"I think it would be easier to get the rest of the world to like me instead."

"Just come to the party."

"Why?" Isabelle was getting exasperated with Claire's persistence on the subject. It really didn't affect her not to attend this dance. It would be a bore with little likelihood of conducting any sort of business.

"To shock the heck out of Mrs. Titchmarsh." Claire grinned widely.

Isabelle instead was shocked. Claire was most surprising this morning. She paused. "Why, Claire? Why do you care?"

"Because you're my friend. And it pains me to see these women hurt you so."

Brushing a stray strand from her face, Isabelle sighed, at a loss for words about to disagree but Claire didn't give her a chance.

"Sometimes I can see it in your face when they put on their airs and brush you aside. Don't tell me that they don't hurt you. You wouldn't be human otherwise."

Isabelle abruptly started walking once more. Her slender shoulders gave a small shrug.

Claire kept pace with her. "I want you to come. If not for them, then for me."

Isabelle walked silently a few steps. Finally, she nodded. She didn't say anything. She just nodded. Her throat was tight. It was hard for her to accept such unabashed friendship. She had rarely known it, and the few times she did, like at the cannery, it had pained her and she swore she wouldn't risk it again. But Claire made it very difficult to keep that promise. She glanced at the gentle woman and smiled.

Claire smiled back. She didn't say anything further but laid a gentle hand on her friend's arm before turning back toward the bay and her newspaper.

***

David sat at the bar, nursing a beer. The noise around him was not a comfort, not like it should be. He loved smoky taprooms, filled with sailors and merchants talking of the day's business, but today it soured in his ears. A part of him had been so happy to see someone from his past, someone who had no idea of what had transpired in his life these last few months. It seemed like a second chance, even with all the extra baggage it might have carried.

But now it was apparent that no part of his life was home to him. Not then, not now. He sighed wearily, rubbing his large hands roughly through his hair.

Lavinia spied the sullen sailor and came over, bringing a bottle of strong malt whiskey with her. She set it on the table in front of him along with two glasses.

He raised his head, his eyes immediately brightening at the company. "Taking pity on a poor fool?"

Her teeth flashed in the dim light as she took a seat. "It's better to commiserate with a friend than to do so alone."

David's hand snaked across the wooden tabletop to brush her fingers as she poured the whiskey. "I can always count on you to remain my friend, no matter what."

"Of course. No matter what." She nudged a glass of the rich, amber liquid toward him.

"Why is that, I wonder?"

"I know when to throw a friend away and when to keep one."

"You're a hell of a lot smarter than I am then." He threw back the whiskey and hissed softly through its burn.

"We both know that time and changing priorities affect people."

"You're talking about Michael Fairfax."

"And Steven DeGuerre. People change, sometimes for the worst."

"I forgot that you've been in this boat before." DeGuerre was still a hard memory for all of them.

"A little." She smiled around her glass as she took a sip. The whiskey smoldered on her tongue.

"I should have known you'd understand."

"We've shared a lot of things." Her gaze dropped to the table. David's hand was lying very close to hers. She fought the impulse to reach out and touch him. It would be far too easy for David to misread the situation, especially in the state he was in.

"How did things change so much?" he murmured.

Lavinia wasn't sure if he was talking about their relationship or his friendship with Fairfax. She opted to believe it was the latter. It was a safer topic regardless.

"People lose touch. The world is a big place and we can't be everywhere. We can't protect the ones we love from everything. You can only help those that are near to you, which is why I covet my friends here as much as possible. To lose even one from my fold would hurt me beyond measure."

"You sound like Colin."

"A little, I suppose. The principle's the same. Michael and Steven changed because no one was around to show them that what they were doing was wrong. No one cared enough to step in and tell it to them straight. I'd like to think if Steven had stayed with Mauriri and I, we could have helped him at that turning point. If we had kept him safe then he'd still be with us now, like in the old days. But too much time had passed, too much ocean between us, and he was in too deep to be saved."

"I would have never taken you to be bothered by guilt."

"Not guilt, regret. I know better than to take on the burdens of the world. I realize that not everything is meant for me to change. The sooner you learn that particular lesson, David, the better off you'll be."

He smirked wryly. "You are one hell of a barkeep--and a friend."

"Of course." She reached out and patted his hand for the first time. "You've got good friends all around you, David. Don't forsake them for one that doesn't want to be saved." Leaning down, she kissed him on the cheek and then returned to the bar, leaving the dark bottle of whiskey on the table.

Her advice was sound. He only wished he had listened to it long before now. It would have saved him a great deal of heartache with Jenny Duvall. He swore he was going to listen to it today. Michael Fairfax was no longer his friend. Regardless of the path Michael was on, David would stand by his true friends, not his past. That would no longer have a hold on him. There were people here in Matavia that needed him far more.

***

"Bloody hell! Ow!"

David leaned over his knees and shifted from one foot to another, easing the sharp pains arching through them. He brushed at the top of his shoes with his hand to wipe away the sand and dust that covered them, massaging the tops of his feet while doing so.

"Let's just forget this, David. It's the last night before the dance and I still don't get it. I never will."

"Never say never, Jack. I'm not giving up yet, and I'm the one taking the beating here. I just can't figure out what the problem is."

"I'm dense, that's all. All the years of liquor have caught up with me. I guess I should be happy I can figure out the phonograph and be done with it."

"Knock it off, Jack. You're almost there. Just a little more patience and perseverance and success will be yours."

"There will be other dances. Why rush for this one?"

"Do you really believe Claire will just sit on the sidelines? Do you know what it's going to feel like to watch her in the arms of other men?" David shook his head. "It's not a good thing, trust me."

"Well, I won't have much choice about it, will I?"

Jack's frustration was plain, but David just couldn't figure out what he was overlooking in terms of the lesson. He had covered everything that was important, but Jack just couldn't grasp the concept of leading. The man wasn't naturally aggressive and if left to him, he'd probably be happy to leave the decision making to Claire. But that couldn't be the case here. Not with the waltz.

David straightened, shaking out the last cramp in his foot. "Okay, one more time." He put his hands in the proper position and was pleased when Jack conceded and followed suit.

"It won't be any different this time around," Jack moaned.

"With that attitude, it won't be."

"You're a man of great patience, David. And even if this doesn't work out, I just want you to know I really appreciate all the time and effort you've put into it."

"I'm not quitting till you get this right. One way or another you're going to learn to dance."

They shuffled about the floor for the hundredth time. Every once in a while, it almost seemed as if they were close to success. But then they faltered. Jack stumbled and landed heavily again on David's right foot.

The man could barely suppress his cry of agony.

"I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!"

"Like hell," David growled. He stepped back and drew in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Geez, I'm not even Claire, Jack. There's no need to be so hesitant."

"David, I really don't think I could dance with her. There are times I think I shouldn't even by talking to her, much less touching her."

Jack was acting like he was a man lost at sea with no hope of rescue. "Rubbish," chided David in hopes of sparking some residual fire in Jack. "That's Fairfax talking and he's a fool. You have a chance with Claire. She has a chance with you."

Jack snorted.

"Damn it, Jack, if you don't even have faith that this relationship is going to get off the ground, then what are we doing here?"

"I don't know," Jack snapped back.

David rubbed his sweaty face harshly. "Claire is a wonderful woman. She's a worthy prize of any man."

"You make her sound as if she's a ship to be plundered for salvage," Jack groused.

David was about to be irritated by Jack's negativity, but then he got an idea. "Not plundered, but sailed. Think of your dancing partner like a ship, Jack." He grabbed Jack's hand in his and raised it up to its position. "This is the mast." He shook their arms to demonstrate. Then he grabbed up Jack's other hand and placed it at his waist. "And this is the rudder with which you steer her."

Jack's eyes were wide and taking in all that David was saying. This he understood. He raised his head to stare at David. "Then what am I, her captain?"

"You're the wind that's going to take her on her maiden voyage across the sea. You make her slip through the waves of people; you steer her through the reefs and shoals. If you don't, she'll wreck. It's all up to you, Jack."

Jack nodded, his face determined.

"Now, again." The waltz started, David's deep throated humming giving them the tempo. This time Jack took command, and using his left hand to aim the ship, he set sail. The right hand at David's waist maneuvered the two of them around the boxes set about the dance floor to represent other couples. But now Jack saw them as only dangerous reefs that would harm his ship. They slipped through with ease. Suddenly they were whirling around the dance floor in a dizzying waltz.

David was stunned and pleased all at the same time. He didn't say anything because he didn't want to break Jack's concentration. He had found the trigger and now that Jack understood, there was no stopping the seaman.

David felt a thrill of success for both of them. The big test was yet to come but that was another day. Tonight Jack was a sailor again and he had found his ship and she had been christened Claire.

Long may she sail.

***

Colin couldn't have prayed for a better night for the first Matavia Bay Church Social. The wind was light, the air was warm but not stifling, the moon was rising above them, bright and full, casting a radiance about all those that were slowly filing toward the assembly hall.

The attendees were well dressed and despite Colin's reservations about the whole affair, even he had to admit that everyone looked quite wonderful. It had been a long while since he had seen folks dressed to the nines. He was just grateful that the air was not hot and muggy otherwise even his own nice shirt and jacket would have been itchy and unbearable.

He greeted his parishioners at the door to the assembly hall. Most people he knew but there were a few that were obviously guests of his congregation, like the officers from the HMS Victory. A number of them were here including the Lieutenant that had been with David and Isabelle. He also noted David's friend, Michael Fairfax, arriving with Mr. and Mrs. Titchmarsh.

But his heart truly leapt when some of the islanders arrived. It was good to see the mixing of cultures, though it pained him to see them dressed as formally as their European counterpoints. The stiff and multi-layered material was a new thing to many of them. Their discomfort was evident, but they all had smiles for him as he greeted them.

Claire and Isabelle came together, arm in arm down the path. They both looked stunning; their hair piled atop their heads with curls hanging down around Isabelle's face, while Claire's hair was swirled atop her head with gentle strands curved around her cheekbones. Their dresses were long and elegant. Claire in a soft pastel pink and Isabelle in a red silk dress, which was as bright as his own flushed face. Claire looked as if she was the happiest woman in the world. After all, she was in her element once again. An affair such as this hearkened back to a previous life she had left behind. How could she not be thrilled to experience a taste of it once more?

Isabelle on the other hand looked mischievous and determined. She was quite courageous to attend, knowing how she would be received by many of the Europeans present in the hall. But Colin would not deny her. In fact, he almost wished for more party crashers, just so that Mrs. Titchmarsh and her following would know that their attitude was unwelcome and an insult to the work he was trying to accomplish here.

He smiled warmly at the two lovely ladies. "You both look stunning," he offered.

Claire swirled around, making her skirt flutter about her. "We do, don't we? It's going to be such a fun evening," she declared.

Isabelle nodded. "It's certainly going to be eventful." She regarded Colin with an impish glint.

Colin leaned in close. "Good luck," he confided with a gentle wink.

"Can you forgive me?" she asked of him.

"I think I should be the one asking forgiveness for the narrow mindedness of some of my parishioners."

Isabelle kissed him gently on the cheek. "Nonsense. This evening we will enjoy ourselves and damn the likes of Mrs. Titchmarsh."

"Still, my duty should be to talk you out of it. Instead, I'm dying to see what happens" Colin laughed. "What a terrible reverend I have become."

"You're far too hard on yourself. But go ahead, if it will clear your conscience. Try and talk me out of it." Isabelle was grinning from ear to ear.

"Isabelle, perhaps you shouldn't be here," he tried with no resolve whatsoever and with an unrepentant grin to match.

Isabelle laughed and patted his arm. "You're absolutely right, but here I am, and here I will stay. Lovely party, Reverend. I can't wait to bring down the house."

The two women strolled past him and into the assembly hall.

Colin watched them go. "It will certainly be a lively party if nothing else," he mused with a grin.

The interior of the hall was lit with lanterns and their glow cast a very soft light everywhere. Chairs lined the sides of the hall with a large buffet table on the far end. The middle was left open for dancing. Music was already filling the air and Claire looked around immediately for its source.

She found Jack sorting through the various discs; he still hadn't noted her entrance. Her grip tightened on Isabelle's arm.

"There he is," she whispered.

Isabelle tracked her gaze to the sidelines and saw Jack. "Why don't you go say hello."

"I think I will." She darted off into the crowd but then came right back. "You'll be all right, won't you?"

Isabelle laughed at her friend's concern. "I'll be fine. Go. Go."

Claire studied her for a second and then smiled. "Okay. I'll be over there if you need me."

"I'll call you if I get into trouble," Isabelle assured her, shooing her young friend away. In truth, she really didn't want Claire about when the church ladies discovered her presence. It was bound to be ugly and Claire shouldn't be involved.

She wondered briefly what David would think of her decision to come. Titchmarsh was a commodity they couldn't really afford to alienate, but principle was at stake here. Or at least she thought it was. Mrs. Titchmarsh had gone too far with her demands and her narrow mindedness. There came a point when even money had to take a backseat to principles. David would be shocked at that thought, especially that it came from her, and that brought a wide smile to her face.

***

Claire maneuvered through the small crowd, her concentration on the solitary figure behind the table that had yet to take notice of her. Occasionally he would glance up as if searching for her, but never did he look in the right direction.

The last small crowd parted and she suddenly stood at the small table set with the discs that William had purchased for Isabelle's phonograph. The device was set further back against the wall on a sturdy table, well away from the other tables and crowds. Colin's forethought most likely. This way there was little chance of anyone bumping into it and perhaps damaging it.

Then Jack's attention alighted on her and she nearly gasped at the rise of excitement that coursed through her blood. His eyes went wide and his mouth formed a small "o". He always did whenever he was surprised. She loved that about him.

"C-Claire," he finally managed to say. "You look...you look...great."

Her grin spread wider at his compliment. "It's just an old dress touched up with some new ribbons and lace."

Jack shifted nervously, brushing his hand down his seaman coat, the same coat he had worn to Isabelle's birthday. It was his only good one. Would Claire notice it? Would she care?

She only smiled gently at him. Her eyes closed and she rocked back and forth in time with the music that was coming out of the phonograph. "I love this piece."

"It's one of my favorites," Jack responded softly, watching her as she weaved a spell about him. She was lovely. What had he called her before? Ethereal? Yes, that was what she was. She didn't move like normal folk; she floated. How could he ever hope to match steps with her, even now with a bit of practice beneath his belt? The lessons from David couldn't possibly be enough to impress her and avoid a horribly embarrassing moment.

His gut set to clenching, like it did whenever he thought about publicly waltzing with her. He had to have been mad, positively insane to think he could do this.

Suddenly David appeared out of the crowd and Jack's panic calmed a bit.

"Claire, beautiful as always."

"David! Thank you." Immediately she was excited and took his red-sleeved arm. She always fancied that particularly shaded shirt, and it was almost exactly the same shade of red as Isabelle's dress. What a couple they would make on the dance floor! "Isabelle's here," she informed him.

"She came?" This took David completely by surprise.

"Yes! She's about somewhere. You should go find her, dance with her. This is a wonderful piece. Just the right tempo for both of you."

David laughed. "Is that so?"

She gave him a gentle nudge into the crowd. "Absolutely."

David allowed himself to be manhandled but cast his gaze back toward Jack with a knowing smirk. Jack's plaintive expression at his departure only told David that he would have to swing back again to check on the young couple.

***

Colin stepped outside into the cool night air. Despite the open windows and doors into the assembly hall, it was still stifling amidst the gathering of people. Tilting his head back and closing his eyes he breathed deep of the uplifting island air. It calmed him and gave him the strength to face his congregation once more. He shook off the mild irritation of the party's motives and regarded the distant Matavia Bay and the small little building nestled behind the market square.

The bar would be buzzing on a Saturday night; Lavinia would be bustling to keep up with the sailors' thirsty orders. She was short handed tonight since Claire was here at the dance as well as one of the other waitresses who was a member his congregation. Colin had seen her with her husband just before he came out. They had been mingling with the other Polynesians in a small band away from the other European parishioners.

The young island woman had been dressed in a very modest European dress, high necked and long in skirt, which completely covered up her shapely figure. Shamefully, Colin almost hadn't recognized her as the bright faced person who took such great pleasure in her work at Lavinia's. Suddenly her smile was slightly forced and pleading for attention and praise from people who certainly weren't her better, but demanded they should be. Colin's blood nearly boiled at the memory.

A shadow moved away from a slender coconut tree just a few feet from the hall. Colin recognized the form immediately and his heart beat rapidly against his chest.

Lavinia approached him quietly. Her bright white smile shining out from the darkness into which she practically blended. "Colin. How goes the party?"

Colin glanced back toward the noise and confusion with a touch of embarrassment. "It's going as well as can be expected, I guess."

She looped her arm gently through his as they turned to stare at the assembly hall. "Regardless of Mrs. Titchmarsh and the other ladies, I still think it is a nice idea to have a dance. Tonight is a time for celebration."

"What are we celebrating?"

"Life." After a moment of pondering, she also added, "Love."

This took Colin by surprise. "Love?" What did she mean? His throat constricted a bit as he felt the warmth of her brown skin soak into his pale flesh.

"I have heard that there is love blossoming at this function." There was a secret amusement in her voice.

Colin coughed and then quickly added. "You must mean Jack and Claire."

Lavinia turned to him. "Of course. Whom else did you think I meant?"

Colin coughed again, this time a bit more forcefully as he tried to cover his slip. "Nothing. No one. Though I did see Isabelle inside."

"Isabelle? Really?" Lavinia frowned slightly and then shrugged wistfully. "Leave it to Isabelle to make a stand, even if it is for the wrong reason. I wish I had her brass. What a show it will be inside."

"Are you sorry you aren't...you weren't--?"

Lavinia laughed. "I'm sorry I'll miss the performance Isabelle will give, but I have absolutely no regrets about missing the opportunity to pander to the likes of Mrs. Titchmarsh." Though the light in her brown eyes faded a bit as the music and the dancing called to her. Joyous laughter came from inside as well.

Colin tightened the grip on her arm. "Well, I'm glad you're here. It means a lot to me that you came."

"I wouldn't miss it. I know what effort you put into this for everyone, not just Mrs. Titchmarsh." She led him to a small wooden bench so they could enjoy the music for a moment as the party continued without them.

"Sometimes I find myself so torn between what I believe is right and what I know is right. How does one find out which is correct?" He sounded so plaintive.

"Your heart knows the right path, Colin. Trust in it."

"But what is good for me doesn't always mean it is also good for my flock." His blue eyes regarded her. He felt ashamed at the amount of affection that shone within them, but he couldn't make it stop.

She regarded him quizzically for a moment, but then appeared to settle on an answer safe for them both. "What better way than to lead by example."

"I've tried that once before remember."

"And I remember Tahura made the decision for you. I don't think you would have made the same choice."

"Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the good of all," Colin responded in a low voice.

"Do they?" Lavinia asked, her head held high but her expression gentle. "I think in your heart you know what you want to do."

They sat in silence each taking pleasure in the other's company on this beautiful evening. Soon, each would have to go back to their respective duties, Lavinia to her business and Colin to his parishioners, but for right now this quiet moment was theirs alone.

***

David searched everywhere for Isabelle in the throngs of people but he came up empty. Where the heck was she? Claire wouldn't have lied to him, would she? His keen anticipation made his lack of success in finding her even more frustrating. One would think she'd stand out in all this sea of older women, with her rich dark hair streaked with strands of light, those smoky eyes that could spark at any moment.

Okay, he mused, these kinds of thoughts weren't going to ease his frustration. Maybe she had stepped out for some air already. Lord, knows he was ready for some fresh air. He hated crowds. Give him the open sea any day.

He saw a crowd of men, mostly sailors from the naval boat. It was odd their attention wasn't focused on the dance floor or the opposite wall where the single young ladies were standing. Instead, their attention was focused behind them. What on earth had so occupied them?

Then David caught of glimpse of Isabelle in the middle of the sailors. His expression fluctuated between shock, anger, jealousy and surprise. He tried to relax. It wasn't Isabelle's fault. She couldn't help it that her beauty attracted men, himself included. He had best go rescue her from a very dull conversation about boats and the sea.

Suddenly Isabelle's laughter rang clear about the room.

David stopped short. She was enjoying herself! Now his irritation mounted. He knew that laugh. It was one she had used many times to flatter a man, himself included. His blood neared to boiling, but then he calmed down again. It was a self defense mechanism only. Isabelle flirted with a lot of men. It didn't mean anything. Most of them were just lads, barely old enough to wipe their nose. She was just being polite. A woman like Isabelle could hold them in rapture for hours.

David was about to step away and leave her to her fun. It wasn't often Isabelle had such attention. She deserved it; it only reinforced that she was really a woman in David's eye. She dressed so often as a man that there were times, a few times only, that David forgot she was a beautiful and endowed woman.

The crowd of navy men parted and Isabelle exited with Lieutenant Derby on her arm. In his daze, David collided with a couple on the dance floor.

"Excuse me," he offered distractedly, trying to set them right. He still couldn't tear his gaze away from Isabelle and her companion as they passed. Her red dress was alluring beyond measure, almost enthralling.

"Really Mr. Grief," murmured the gentleman.

"How rude," muttered the woman. "Do try to pay attention where you are going."

It was Mrs. Titchmarsh. David cursed his luck. She was attempting to see what it was that held David's attention. He moved to block her though Isabelle's choice of dress color was going to be hard to miss. He supposed that was her point.

"Terribly sorry, Mrs. Titchmarsh. It was entirely my fault."

"It most certainly was."

"Is that a new dress? It's very striking. It makes your eyes that much bluer."

"Truly?" she squeaked, pleased with the kind words.

"Absolutely. They are as blue as a sky kissed sea."

David noted Isabelle and Lt. Derby move away while Mrs. Titchmarsh reveled in her magnificence. He slipped away, leaving poor Mr. Titchmarsh to get an earful of how he never offers such nice compliments to his own wife.

David's thoughts were consumed with why was Isabelle still associating with the Lieutenant. Of course, the man was attracted to her, but was the feeling returned? It made David kind of sick inside just to think of it. But why shouldn't she? It wasn't as if there was any claim on her by anyone, least of all by him. She hadn't made a play for him in months. Sure, she had tried while he was with Lavinia and then for a time afterward, but then she had stopped, probably realizing they weren't suited for each other.

The only reason she had stepped in after Jenny was for her own interests in the merchant business. It had nothing to do with him.

But David wondered why that usual argument wasn't working suddenly. He felt no better this time. She looked happy. Didn't she deserve happiness?

But why the Lieutenant, another man of the sea? What could the Lieutenant offer her that he couldn't? He ticked them off his fingers mentally. Prestige. Wealth. A future.

David's face was locked in dejection. He went to sit in misery with Jack.

***

Jack changed out another disc and again Claire was pleased with his choice as she stood in front of his table. She hadn't left yet. It was almost as if she was waiting for something.

"Oh what a wonderful song. The melody is perfect."

Jack smiled, content that he had pleased her. "It's actually by a Russian composer." He knew it was time. He should ask her. But his throat was so constricted it hurt.

Someone stepped up behind Claire. "May I have this dance?"

She turned and her smile dissipated to a frown. Michael Fairfax stood behind her. "I'm sorry, I don't--"

"Wonderful," he exclaimed before she could finish.

"She said no." Jack said, but he couldn't reach her because of the table's width. He was boxed in.

Fairfax didn't pay him any mind but grabbed Claire into his arms and took off with her. They bobbled for an instant as Claire struggled to extract herself but she was no match for him without making a scene so she complied for now, her blue eyes filled with remorse as she gazed one last time at Jack before the crowd swallowed them.

Jack's hands nearly crushed the disk in his hands. He couldn't believe it. Misery swelled up in him. He sank down onto the stool near the table and watched the crowd, grateful that he couldn't see the couple.

***

Mrs. Titchmarsh adjusted her tight, laborious frock as delicately and nonchalantly as she could using her husband as a front. Her gaze swept up and down the rows of attendees, pleased that everyone had followed her rules and adhered to the standards she had set for them.

Every European looked marvelous and sophisticated, a true testament to the superiority of the Western culture. The Polynesians should be taking careful note. They were all bunched together on the far side of the hall. Their dark skins contrasted harshly against their light bland clothing. And not one of them was dancing, at least not properly. Their bodies were swaying and their feet moving but there was no grace and dignity to it. Instead it looked like their own crude rhythms. She huffed, irritated by their lack of manners. Still, she supposed that none of them probably knew the steps even to a basic waltz. Perhaps she could arrange to have some dancing lessons given to them so that the next social would be livelier. They looked like flocking field mice over there. It just didn't look good. Hopefully no one was noticing them much. She could only hope.

A flash of something sinfully red caught her eye and she turned, gazing out into the sea of pinks and whites and blues. Perhaps it had been a passing punch bowl or something. Surely no one would have the audacity to wear such a bright red to her social.

Her mouth gaped open as she spied Isabelle Reed draped in the most aberrant red dress she could imagine. And worse, the men were flocking around her like lovesick calves. It was disgraceful!

She abandoned her husband's side and marched straight over to the woman.

"Miss Reed!" her voice boomed. It had the same affect as her husband's on the wharf.

Isabelle didn't even flinch, though most of the men around her did. She just lazily spun to face the oncoming harpy.

"Mrs. Titchmarsh, what a lovely party this is."

"What on earth do you think you are doing? Look at you! You look like a..."

"Like someone who belongs here with me." Lt. Alan Derby stepped out from behind Isabelle and lightly placed his arm on hers.

Mrs. Titchmarsh's mouth dropped open even farther, looking like a bloated fish gasping for air on a ship's deck. She sputtered and gaped.

"I'm so delighted Miss Reed could attend. I know you don't mind. I certainly don't. And her dress is so very international and striking. It lends a wonderful contrast to this evening's festivities. Isn't that right, Mrs. Titchmarsh?"

The woman glared at Isabelle but then immediately placed a simpering smile on her face and addressed the Lieutenant. "Of course. We're so very glad to have her here. She brings such...such..."

"Color?" offered Isabelle helpfully.

Mrs. Titchmarsh's facial muscles contracted and shook, giving her the appearance that she was caught in a windstorm. Her eyes were wide in embarrassment.

Lt. Derby tightened his grip on Isabelle's arm, his own cheek muscles struggling. Though in his case, a grin was threatening. "Let's waltz, shall we?" He tugged Isabelle onto the dance floor. She came willingly, but did cast her head back to wave goodbye to Mrs. Titchmarsh who stood rooted to the spot, fists clenched at her side and her back rigid.

Oh there was going to be hell to pay someday, Isabelle knew, but she had to admit that this one moment of retribution was delicious and worth the heartache to come. Titchmarsh Exports wasn't the only fish in the sea. Business and profit would be found everywhere so long as one knew where to look. And her eyes were exceedingly keen, far keener than Mo or David's.

***

David emerged from the throng of people, looking no better than Jack. He slipped behind the main table and sat beside the forlorn man. Both stared out onto the dance floor.

"This isn't what I expected," Jack mumbled.

"Me neither," David replied. Then he frowned and regarded Jack. "What's the matter?"

"Claire was asked to dance."

David nodded. "It was bound to happen. There are way too many single men on this island with that damn naval ship in port." The ire in his voice practically made it a snarl.

Jack was uncomfortable, not sure he should mention that it was David's childhood friend that had whisked Claire away. Surely he couldn't tell David just how arrogant and disagreeable the man was to most of the people on the island. So, he just nodded instead.

"You need to wait for the right moment," David consoled his friend. "The right song. And then you ask her. She won't refuse."

"I'd rather be facing a storm at sea than this."

"You and me both."

Isabelle and Lt. Derby waltzed by in a striking pose, her long hair swirling about them; she had a broad smile upon her face.

Jack looked at David for a second and then back to the dance floor. "Wasn't that...?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I don't think you're wise to give me advice on asking a girl to dance," Jack pointed out.

"Meaning?" David snapped.

Jack contemplated his options. It wasn't really his business whether Isabelle was dancing with a navy Lieutenant and David was sitting here beside him. Maybe it was possible David didn't care. Though from the sour expression on the man's face, anything but the exact opposite was true. Finally, the seaman shrugged. "Nothing."

"That's what I thought."

"Still," Jack mused further, irritating David, "I've never seen Isabelle Reed look more radiant. Mrs. Titchmarsh must be fit to be tied, twice over."

David nodded, his frown easing at bit. "Well, she won't say anything derogatory so long as Isabelle keeps Lieutenant Derby on her arm. Not even Mrs. Titchmarsh is that foolhardy."

"Or stupid."

David smirked. "It will do the community good to see Isabelle drawing the respect of someone of note. She deserves it. She's gotten a bad reputation on these islands, thanks to her past and in part from saving me."

"Yes, but the navy vessel won't stay in port for long, you know. Eventually, she'll be left alone to face Mrs. Titchmarsh and the rest of the hens."

"She'll never be alone, not so long as I'm around."

The last was said with such conviction that Jack regarded his friend and wondered how much of that was just brotherly protection and how much of it was something a bit more substantial. Finally he commented with a wry grin, "As if you're any higher in Mrs. Titchmarsh's book of respectability."

David chuckled. "Yes, but someday they'll come crawling back to the Rattler. She's the fastest trader in the South Seas. And if it they don't, I don't much give a damn. They can live in their world and Isabelle and I will live in ours."

"A much healthier and happier life to be sure."

"Damn straight."

Suddenly, Fairfax and Claire slipped by in the dance circle and both David and Jack stiffened. David cursed while Jack merely sagged back in his seat, trying vainly not to show too much resentment.

"Damn it," snarled David, rising to his feet.

Jack shook his head, not understanding why David would be angry that his childhood friend was dancing with Claire. "Let it go. He has a right to dance with her as much as I."

"Like hell." David slipped through the tables but cast his head back to Jack. "Put your disc on. You're dancing in about five minutes."

Jack paled abruptly. "No, no. That's alright."

But David was already gone on his mission. Jack stood there for a bit, stunned and terrified. Then he spun around and rummaged through the discs frantically. It had been here just a second ago; he had set it aside specifically. His chest was tight with panic. Then he pushed one disc aside and the one he had selected appeared. His breathing started once more and his tremulous fingers placed the disc on the phonograph. He struggled with setting the needle down but it was difficult. A horrible screech echoed through the ear of the phonograph. Wincing, he cast an apologetic look to everyone and tried again.

The needle finally dropped onto the disc and the strains of the delicate waltz began. Jack sighed with relief. Now all he needed was Claire.

***

David maneuvered quickly through the crowd. He had no idea what he was going to say. He doubted he could get Michael away from Claire without a scene. Michael wouldn't give up without a good reason. Asking to cut in wouldn't work; the man wouldn't be that giving. Timing it, he placed himself in the path of the couple as another waltz began.

Claire greeted him with a very relieved smile. "David!"

Fairfax's expression held only irritation. "Sorry, David, old friend, this one's mine."

"But I'm terribly tired," his dance partner implored.

"Nonsense." Fairfax tightened his grip, not willing to give up his conquest for the evening. "The night is young."

David's anger rose. The man's controlling behavior was unbelievable and now a friend was at the brunt of it. "Michael--"

"I said no."

"Mr. Titchmarsh is looking for you." Inspiration saved him from punching Fairfax in the face and ruining Colin's dance.

"Really?" Now the man was distracted. He looked around for his employer.

"Yes. It looked important."

"Well, in that case then --." He paused to pat Claire's cheek before relinquishing her to David. Then he darted off into the crowd.

Claire fell into David's arms. "Oh, thank you, David!" she gasped.

He chuckled. "You're welcome. Come on. Let's go get you something to drink." The crowd of dancers thinned enough to make their way easily back to Jack. They found him waiting. A look of sheer relief was upon his face. Unfortunately it quickly changed to nervousness now that it was time to take control. David had brought Claire back to him and the waltz had already started. Utter terror struck at him suddenly.

"Look who I found," David said.

"Are you all right?" Jack asked, coming around to the front of the table.

Claire looked spent, a thin sheen of perspiration on her flushed face. "That man is a barbarian," she muttered, looking where Michael Fairfax disappeared.

"Perhaps, Claire needs to rest," Jack offered hesitantly.

David scowled at him, giving a glass of punch to her. "She's fine. I think she might even be up for one more waltz."

Claire glanced flabbergasted at David who raised an eyebrow at her and then inclined his head ever so slightly toward Jack.

Claire studied him quizzically a moment, wondering what kind of sadist David was all of a sudden. She was exhausted. But then she followed the incline of his head and her eyes widened.

Staring at Jack, her weariness fading abruptly, her expression suddenly expectant.

Jack took a step back and stuttered, "Uh, no I don't..."

David leaned toward him and whispered in his ear. "The tide is in your favor."

Jack stopped backing up. He straightened. David was right. He turned to thank the man but David had left, his retreating back disappearing among the various parishioners.

"Jack?" came a hesitant voice from behind him.

"Claire." He regarded her again.

"Is there something you want to ask me?" she said helpfully.

Jack took a deep breath and then bowed awkwardly; unsure suddenly of the proper etiquette he should take with Claire. "Would you dance with me?"

He sighed with relief as she smiled warmly at him and took his outstretched hand. Her eyes were already dancing with delight and surprise. It made her even more radiant.

"I'd be honored to dance with you, sir," she told him.

There wasn't a trace of teasing in her tone. She was serious. Jack found it difficult to draw a breath, but his arms lifted to welcome her into his embrace. She stepped forward eagerly, light and flowing, a perfect fit.

They stood there, Claire looking up expectantly into Jack's face. Jack was waiting for the right beat to start the waltz. Sweat broke out onto his face, knowing that Claire was looking at him oddly.

An overwhelming sense of relief enveloped Jack as he took the first step. Claire came willingly. The sensation was very different from dancing with David. There had always seemed to be substance there, but with Claire it felt like he was holding the southerly winds, warm and gentle, hardly there at all, but reassuring and uplifting all the same.

David's lessons echoed in his head as they waltzed. Jack led her through every narrow channel, avoided every precarious collision. The moon was so full and the stars were so bright that they shone through the open doors and windows. He kept his hand steady and his touch light as he waltzed her about the dance floor.

Claire looked in his eyes and held on tight, amazed at the careful deliberation Jack took with each step. His concentration was as deep as she had ever seen it while on board ship. There was a confidence in his steps that she had rarely seen. Gone was the shy hesitant man she had known. In its place was a man of determination and strength. She felt safe in his arms; her eyes slipped closed, trusting Jack to steer her through the obstacles. She just relaxed and let the wind take her.

Neither of them saw Michael Fairfax making his way across the floor to intercept. But David did. He stepped neatly in front of the man and brought him to an abrupt halt.

"Michael," he greeted.

The man stared daggers at his old friend unsure why David had approached him. They had pretty much concluded their business. At least for now.

"Excuse me." He made to go around David.

David sidestepped and stopped him again. "I don't think so."

Now Fairfax grew angry. "This is none of your business."

"I believe it is. Those are my friends and they don't need you sticking your nose in their affairs."

"Come on, David, you know as well as I do that Jack McGonnigal is not worthy of a woman like Claire Devon. He's nothing but island scum, a bloody cannibal."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that because of this party, but you will not interfere with them."

"Or what?" Fairfax snorted, unfazed by David's threat.

"Or I will make an issue out of it. My reputation is already shot around here; yours isn't. And I've been in the mood for a good fight. But you, you've made business arrangements with Mr. Titchmarsh and what would they think of their new glory boy if he was involved in a common brawl during a party that Mrs. Titchmarsh arranged. Are you so eager to lose prospective business because of a woman?"

Those words stung Fairfax, but then eased back, smirking slickly. "You're right. No job is worth losing over a woman who doesn't have the sense God gave her. It's her loss not mine."

"Then get out of here. You're spoiling a perfectly good evening."

His one time friend's face hardened as he regarded him. "One day, you'll learn to mind your own business, David. And it won't be pretty."

"If and when that happens, at least I'll have loyal friends to stand beside me. Too bad you can't say the same. Not any more."

Fairfax turned abruptly and left. David watched him until he exited the assembly hall. Only then did he breath a sigh of relief. His attention returned to Jack and Claire. He couldn't help but marvel at Jack's proficiency. David wasn't fool enough to believe that his teaching had brought all that on. No, he was sure it was Claire's inspiration and absolute faith that had allowed Jack to tap into that part of him that was in love with the journalist. David had merely been a guide, a mentor, nothing more but a friend. It felt good to offer up his time for a worthy cause.

An arm slipped through his. "David, not only are you incorrigible but you're a romantic as well," whispered a soft voice in his ear. "Who'd have thought?"

Isabelle!

She looked magnificent up close, practically regal. He couldn't help it, he glanced around for her partner, her dancing partner.

"He's gone for drinks," she told him.

His face colored that he was so transparent. "You like him, don't you?"

Isabelle shrugged. "He's nice. Not so bombastic as your old friend Michael Fairfax. The Lieutenant is just a seaman, gentle at the helm; and he isn't threatened by me as a woman."

"That could describe me," David noted with a mild pout.

Isabelle smiled. "Yes, it could."

There was a silence between them, their eyes soaking in each other, as if daring one of them to make a move and prove the other right or wrong.

Then Isabelle took pity and let him off the hook. "Dance with me."

"What?"

She stretched out her arms, waiting for him to encircle her with his brawn.

David's mouth went dry just at the sight. His mind leapt immediately to the time that he had danced with Isabelle during her birthday party. His life had stopped for the briefest of instants; he never thought he'd recapture the magic of that moment.

"What about your Lieutenant? He'll be back in a moment."

Isabelle's head slipped a little to the side. She tsked at him. "A woman should never let a man think he has the upper hand. The winds of chance have a way of changing suddenly."

David stared at her for a moment and then allowed a grin to emerge. "And they're blowing in my direction?"

"Full in the face."

He needed no further encouragement, stepping up to her and gathering her in his arms. Her skin was warm and soft. Once again that feeling of completeness engulfed him. There was no odd shuffling to arrange themselves. They just ... fit, as if by design. He barely breathed as he observed her, poised delicately in his arms, hips slipping along with his.

Isabelle raised hooded eyes to him; she didn't shyly look away like most women in her position. She captured his attention and wouldn't release him. Not yet. She admitted to herself that she relished moments like these. His arms about her were strong and secure, bolstering her resolve and her spirit always, never far and hardly ever judgmental. Not once had he chastised her for coming to the dance and playing merry havoc with their business prospects. She loved him for that.

David was a remarkable man. Whenever he acted selflessly, it drew her to him like a moth to the flame. She didn't know why, but there was something about that kind of loyalty that tugged at her heart. Whether he knew it or not, he made her love him, and even if she couldn't have him, she blessed every chance the wind blew their way. She wished that she could have this moment locked away forever.

When the music finally ended, they stayed perfectly still, their arms still encircling the other, their eyes locked, searching for a response that both were afraid to give and to receive.

Then Isabelle smiled gently and David returned it. Both were a touch sad. He knew Isabelle was just using him to make the Lieutenant jealous. It was her way, wasn't it? He didn't blame her. A part of him cherished the opportunity to hold her lithe body against his, feel the heat that sparked between them. To deny its presence was foolish. It had been there from the day they had first met, but after all this time, through every adventure and shenanigan they had shared, the possibilities grew slimmer. Surely something should have happened between them if it was meant to happen.

He bent down and made to kiss her on the cheek, but she turned at the last moment, whether conscious or not he couldn't tell. His lips brushed hers. Surprise so engulfed him that his brain wasn't processing what had happened. But she didn't jerk away. She shifted closer, leaning against him, pressing deeper. Their breaths stilled inside their chests as time stopped.

But then the dispersing crowd jostled them apart. Before David could open his eyes and see her reaction, she had turned away and the Lieutenant was beside her.

"I've got your drink," he stated as if no time had passed at all.

Isabelle looped her arm through his and led him back to the tables. David stared after her, his heart pounding in his chest. How could she act as if nothing had happened?

Had anything happened?

Maybe it was just an accident. Yes, that was most likely the case. They had been caught off guard and she was, what? Embarrassed? He wasn't. Not the way his heart was hammering inside him. But Isabelle seemed so causal about it.

David looked away. The sight of Isabelle and the Lieutenant as a couple actually pained him. Isabelle was just being Isabelle. The Lieutenant offered her so much more than he could, that was obvious. Money, prestige, distinction. He couldn't blame her for being tempted. Besides he had never made it clear that there was anything between them either. Neither had she.

The kiss had been an accident.

But it had certainly felt different. He shook his head. It was giving him a headache thinking about it and he was looking like a fool standing all alone on the dance floor.

***

It was late in the evening and the dance had long ended. David had lingered to help clean up. Despite the pallor of prejudice that hung over the hall, it looked like many enjoyed themselves, even the Islanders who love a party, any sort of party. They were used to such narrow-mindedness and dismissed it far easily than most.

Still, Mrs. Titchmarsh had overshadowed the event. But to see Isabelle put that creature in her place, even at the expense of future business ventures, had been the highlight of the event, thought David. No, that wasn't true. There was one other reason.

The kiss they had shared made him realize that perhaps there was something deeper between the two. And that thought made his whole body react in ways he hadn't felt possible in a very long time. There was a fire again inside him. Hope became suddenly real without the thought of it leaving a hole in his gut.

This is so very different. He was happy. As happy as he had been less than a year ago. Things had gone well, in his favor for the first time. It gave him a new confidence.

David was on his way back to the Rattler. He could pick out her mainsail from here. He hadn't felt this good in a long time. The high he was riding was one unsurpassed.

Walking back through the port, David heard a small shout and then a muffled crash. Immediately his demeanor changed, becoming more alert and aware. He made his way back behind an alley between the warehouse and the waterfront. This was on the way back to Jack's cove. All of a sudden David had a very bad feeling.

More sounds of a struggle reached him and he darted the last bit down into the alley. The sight didn't surprise him in the least.

"You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you, Michael?"

Michael Fairfax's head jerked up. "David!"

"Let him go," David commanded.

Four other men were with Fairfax. They held between them Jack McGonnigal. He was beaten badly, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. David eyed the strangers carefully, sizing them up. They all looked seedy, like they were easily paid to cause trouble. David knew where the money came from. "You didn't even have the courage to take Jack on by yourself. You bloody coward."

Fairfax straightened. "What would you know about that, David? You're the one who abandoned his own family, who ran away from his too strict father."

"This isn't about me. It's about your own petty narrow mindedness. I can't believe I never saw it before now. You're an opportunist, Michael. A scavenger feeding off the weak and less fortunate."

"Don't get involved in this, David."

"Don't be stupid to think that I won't. Now let him go!"

Two of the big men stepped away from Jack, but not because they were complying with his order. They began to position themselves to attack him.

"Yes," replied Fairfax in a bored voice. "I should have known that you wouldn't be able to keep your nose out of trouble. Always defending people who shouldn't mean a thing and aren't worth your time. You're a fool."

"Maybe, but I'm the fool that's going to knock your damn head off."

It was enough to goad Michael to leave Jack alone. Three to one odds. Not the best, but David didn't have a choice. That left two for Jack if he was still capable. It was too late in the night for a passerby and too far from help. He was on his own.

He met Michael's charge. His old friend was a bigger man but David was channeling his anger, all the rage that he held over the years about his father, about the world he left behind. It all came out in a rush.

Fairfax's fist crashed into his cheek and rocked David's head back. But he countered with a backhanded fist and struck the man across the temple. Both men went down on their knees. David tried to get back up and meet the onrush of the other two men. He thought he would have the time. He was wrong.

A two handed blow struck him across the shoulders and his breath rushed out of his lungs so fast it drew spots in his vision. He went down to his hands and knees, dizzy as hell and disoriented. It cleared for just a moment and he noticed a leg beside him. He grabbed it and yanked, bringing one of his foes down to the ground with him.

He stood, turning toward another opponent and met the meaty fist of the third man. It snapped his head to the side, a spray of blood following after as his lip split. He stumbled but managed to keep his feet. He spun around and slammed a punch into the man's unprotected middle. It doubled the man over, just in time to meet David's knee as he brought it up with ferocious force.

The man went flying back, but the man David had tripped grabbed his arms from behind. He struggled but he couldn't break the man's grip. Michael stepped into his field of vision. Hard, angry and wiping blood from the corner of his eye.

"If you don't want your inheritance, then I'll take it. When you're father dies and he has no one to leave it to, I'll be there to pick up the pieces when it transfers to auction."

"You're a gutless bastard," David snarled.

Furious, Fairfax slammed a fist into David's stomach. As his old friend was doubled over, he leaned over to snarl. "But at least I'm not broke and calling a cannibal a friend. Don't think I won't be happy to relate that news to your father."

Rage boiled inside David. He lifted his bloody face upward toward Fairfax and he saw an opening. He pulled back forcing the man holding him to brace him as David lifted both feet and shoved his heels into Fairfax's exposed midsection. Fairfax went flying back. The man holding him lost his balance and fell backwards.

As he landed on the man's chest, David felt the man's grip loosen and he wrenched himself free. He saw Jack still trying to hold his own, but the wounded seaman was losing. David staggered over to grab the upraised arm of the man behind Jack. The look of surprise on the man's face made David smile despite the split lip. David's fist smashed into him and the man went down like a sack of potatoes.

His small victory was short-lived. Someone leaped on him and he crashed into the sand, a heavy weight leaning on him, shoving his face deep into the depths of the sand. He couldn't breath. All that entered were choking, cloying granules. He struggled to right himself but the muscles in his arms seemed like lead weights, darkness was creeping in at the edge of his vision.

Somehow his opponents had regained the upper hand.

***

Mauriri's quiet stroll back from his cousin's house was calming. The moon hung in the night sky casting its glow through the coconut trees and across the water. He took his time. Lianni and the kids were off visiting her family and their house would be silent and lonely. Even though the hour was late, he relished the opportunity to walk and think about his past, his present and his future. For the last few months he had been driving himself to not think of anything because it was too painful, now suddenly he wanted to consider what the next step should be in his life.

All this time he had been waiting for David to make the first move and apologize but now it didn't seem so important. It was true that he wanted an apology but he also wanted life to right itself once more. Everything of late seemed as if he were on a boat in rough seas, and the vessel was in danger of capsizing, every step precarious. Now he was tired of the rough weather. He wanted the storm to end, to salvage what he could and continue. Was it worth the price to continue to hazard the boat out of pride just to say he didn't flinch first?

Pride was an ugly thing. So was anger. And he was guilty of both.

Of course there was fear involved. Fear that David's recklessness would endanger them all, his family, and the boat. The list was endless. But it was time to admit that the fear didn't just stem from David. That fear was forever there, if it didn't come recklessness, then it came from nature herself or the violent minds of others. Out here on the islands, life changed from idyllic to dangerous with the swiftness of a riptide. It wasn't always David's fault.

Mauriri smiled. Though usually he was at the heart of it.

There was a crash to his left. He almost was tempted to ignore it. A stray animal or a stumbling drunk. But then he veered toward the sound unconsciously as if he was drawn there beyond reason.

The moment he saw the flash of a red shirt, he knew why.

David.

It took only a second to realize what was happening. Jack was near insensible in the meaty grip of a burly seaman. David was down and being whaled upon by Michel Fairfax and another brute.

An anger flared inside of Mauriri. It engulfed him. He immediately stepped forward and grabbed the nearest man. The stranger was lifting a beam of wood to strike David. Mauriri's strong arm blocked it and with a wild shout slammed his forehead into the man. He dropped bonelessly. It had all happened so fast that Michael Fairfax hadn't even realized someone else had joined the fight. Mauriri turned and roundhoused Fairfax smack in the jaw. The man fell off David, crumpling into the sand in a flurry of arms and legs. David stirred but didn't rise.

Mauriri took the opportunity to help Jack. The man holding him dropped Jack to face Mauriri. The startled expression on his face spoke clearly that they hadn't expected to lose this fight. Too bad.

Mauriri strode over to him. This man was a good deal larger than the others, even over Mauriri. The Islander jammed his fist into the man's face. There was little result. Mauriri didn't even see the fist that slammed into his own face. It snapped his head back. Mauriri swung out again, connecting but not quite sure where. It didn't matter. It staggered his opponent and gave Mauriri some breathing room.

The big man came back though far too quickly, but this time Mauriri was ready. He picked up the discarded beam of wood and swung it like a cricket player. The end of the upswing caught the man under the chin and he flew back, crashing into the crates and barrels along the warehouse wall.

Mauriri leaned over his bat and took a look around him. Jack was just gaining his feet, but from the looks of it, he still wasn't sure of his surroundings. David was also standing and had Fairfax by the front of his shirt and was jamming his fist repeatedly into the man's face.

Mauriri nodded. It consoled him that David had chosen to defend Jack from the likes of Fairfax despite their past friendship. David had chosen wisely this time and it spoke well of David. Mauriri looked over the battlefield. Things were back under control; the majority of the attackers were unconscious. And it looked like no one was even the wiser about Mauriri's hand in it all. He preferred it that way. Stepping back into the shadows, Mauriri disappeared, content.

Michael Fairfax shook his head, unsure how he had lost the upper hand. The last thing he remembered was that David was choking on sand.

Now David was snarling in his face.

"You're leaving this island," David snapped. "You're leaving my friends alone and you're leaving my father alone. We're not selling anything to you. I'll make sure of it."

Fairfax spat out some blood and then wiped his mouth. "And how are you going to do that? After your father is gone, the ranch will be left open to anyone that can claim it. Your father would rather let the land go to a stranger than admit he was wrong. You can't change that fact."

"And I'd rather the land be sold to a perfect stranger than let it fall into your hands. Don't think I couldn't arrange that."

"He won't leave you the land and you don't have the money to buy it out from under me," Fairfax leaned in, smirking with blood stained teeth.

David's response was immediate. He hit Fairfax directly into the face. The lights went out and Fairfax dropped. David released the man's shirt and let him slide to the ground, out cold.

"Don't tell me what I can or can't do." He looked around and saw the bodies strewn about. He let out a low whistle and staggered over to Jack, heaving the seaman the rest of the way up to his feet. "Well done, Jack." How the man had gotten himself together and helped finish the fight was beyond him but David was grateful regardless.

"What?" Jack mumbled, his eyes blinking rapidly to clear them.

David laughed and then regretted it as fresh blood welled from his split lip. He touched it gingerly.

Jack regarded him with a crazy lilt of his head. "What happened?"

"You saved my neck, you crazy cannibal."

"I did?"

"I don't know how you did it, but I appreciate the assistance."

Jack still didn't know what David was talking about but he nodded nonetheless. It was less confusing that way. "Sure, any time."

Together the two men staggered off into the night.

Mauriri watched them from the shadows, relieved. His friends didn't appear to be too much the worse for wear despite the brawl. It had felt good to have taken action. He had been inactive too long. Sure he had been busy building, but it wasn't nearly as satisfying as righting a wrong or defending the weak against impossible odds. The adrenalin was still surging inside him, suppressing the painful swelling of his left eye. He didn't even feel it when his dark eyes crinkled at the corners while he grinned widely in the darkness.

***

The light was on at Lavinia's bar. Jack and David sat on stools while Claire, Lavinia and Isabelle gathered some medicinal items, bandages, antiseptic and the like. Isabelle gave a slow whistle at David's large welts and steady bruising.

"You didn't have to come, Isabelle."

"When someone comes banging on my door, claiming that you and Jack have taken down Fairfax and four other mongrels, how could I not."

David cast his eye sideways at Claire who was dabbing at Jack's gashed cheek with her handkerchief. "And what about her?"

"Now David, this is news. It's the most exciting thing to have happened in Matavia since my birthday party." She smirked and then lowered her voice. "Besides, you can't deny that Claire doctoring Jack's wounds isn't as ingenious as your matchmaking at the social."

She was right. No arguing there. David turned his attention back to Isabelle. "So why are you here?"

Isabelle regarded him with a teasing raised eyebrow, daring him to come to his own conclusions. "What do you think?"

Lavinia came back into the room with some of her grandmother's salve. She immediately sat in front of David, unintentionally blocking Isabelle, who frowned but said nothing. This had been Lavinia's duty for many years before she and David had split as a couple. It was instinct, and in truth, Lavinia was more skilled at it, but it didn't hurt Isabelle any less. After all, she was David's partner now and that gave her a certain right too, didn't it?

David's green eyes took some time before straying from Isabelle to Lavinia. But he too didn't question Lavinia's presence. And that hurt Isabelle too. It only told her that her suspicions were right. David still harbored feelings for his past love.

Isabelle saddened yet still smiled at David as he related how Jack had miraculously threw off his attackers and managed to take on David's own opponents. Even though Jack still insisted he must have done it while in a stupor, because he remembered none of it.

"Worse than a hangover," Jack muttered, then winced as Claire dabbed some antiseptic onto his gashed cheek.

"Oh I'm sorry, Jack. But it's so deep. Maybe it needs stitches. Lavinia, does it need stitches? I don't know if I could sew it. Sewing garments is one thing; this is something completely different. Should I get thread? Does it hurt very much?" She was again gazing into Jack's sea blue eyes and searching them for an admission of pain.

But all that was there was the satisfied relief of a man who had angel tending him. What possible pain couldn't he bear? "It hardly hurts at all," he told her in low voice. He loved how she babbled slightly when concerned for him.

His admission eased some of her anxiety and her hand lifted to gently cup his cheek. She thought him very daring for braving the dance even though he had been threatened not to attend. All that to run the phonograph and steal a waltz with her. Her joy made her dizzy.

Isabelle noted Claire's relief and the dark haired woman was just as assured that both men would be fine. So she slipped silently from the room and out into the night. To her surprise she noted a shadow in the corner.

"Mauriri."

"I saw the light on at the bar."

"Seems Jack got jumped by Fairfax and some goons. David and he put them to rights." It was then that the moon broke from cover and illuminated the two of them. In its glow she could see the tell tale swelling of Mauriri's eye. "Nice shiner."

He touched it gingerly. "My cousin was a tad vigorous in his labor today. I caught an elbow. Why aren't you inside?" he asked, trying to divert her attention. Isabelle was too observant for her own good.

"Why aren't you?" she countered. Isabelle didn't believe Mauriri's explanation for a second, but she would keep his secret. Mauriri, a doer of good deeds by moonlight. She loved him for it. "You're a regular Robin Hood."

Mauriri snorted. "Isn't he a brigand? I'm wounded." But he wasn't really.

Isabelle laughed. "You know, I said the same thing when David implied it to me. I'm still trying to determine if it was an insult or not."

"David would never cast insult your way."

"You think?"

"I know." He smiled at her with the kind eyes she had once known from this man. "So, did his matchmaking plan work?" he inquired.

It thrilled Isabelle that Mauriri was once again expressing interest in his friends, particularly where it concerned David. She grinned widely. "Take a look."

The islander peeked around the corner of the door and saw Claire fussing over Jack. The young seaman looked almost stunned and enraptured at the same time. Mauriri eased back. "David hasn't lost his touch, I see." But he was surprised that Isabelle wasn't inside with David. However, he said nothing. Isabelle had her reasons, he supposed.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For helping him."

He graciously inclined his head. "Between us?"

She shrugged. "If that's the way you want it."

"I do."

"Someday--," she began.

"Just not today."

"Soon?" she inquired.

Mauriri shrugged. "I'm thinking about it."

She beamed, slipping a slender arm through his meaty one. "What a wonderful start."

Arm in arm, the two outlaws strolled out to the bay bathed in moonlight.


The end

The Winds Of Chance       Part 1       Part 2       Part 3    

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