Scents and Sensiblity

[Rebbeka]

Scents and Sensibility . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . from 1330 to 1333

Early Spring 1330 [/b][/i]

Now that her debts were paid in full and the villainous Louis was far away, Rebbeka Marteau began to do what her instinct told her. Like a new queen bee, she began to fashion her own little hive, a home and factory for her and her creations, here in Turas Lan.

First of all, it had been the matter of obtaining a business licence, which had not been a problem. A suitable building was the next quest. This she found in the market place area, near a young linden tree where the veiled scribe did business. “My husband will lend you the funds.” Aurilla volunteered. “He had wanted me to have the shop for my scribe work, but it is too large a space. This little doorway to the square belies its true volume. Come, let me show you.” Sitting her quills aside, Rilla opened the door for Beka into a wonderful little room.

From the exterior, it was not much more than two steps up. A small thick green stained oak door was right beside a square window. Outside. Dark green shutters covered the square window frame filled with swirly white glass blocks. Light came in but it was not much for looking through. Inside, there to the left stood empty a great dark carved wooden wardrobe; beyond that was an opening to a hallway. In the center a built in sales counter sat, sturdy and fixed to the floor. Plain wood panels faced the customer; shelves back under to the clerk’s spot. The entire back wall was installed with open shelves, strong enough to hold standard supply jars and half size. To the right as you entered, there was open space, a wall in need of whitewash. Spiders had their home in all the corners, dark webs filled with crispy bug bodies and dust. Beneath the front window, there was another built in chest, low and sturdy enough to do double duty as a bench. Extra spaces adjacent to the glass block panel were opened with shutters from in the room and with the transom over the entry door, gave fresh air into the entire unit. It was small, with enough room for several customers at a time, however.

“This would make an adequate shop, for I do not envision doing that much trade, in a city of this size. Just enough for a living. “What other rooms are there? I will need to live and keep my workshop here, to save time traveling. “ Rebbeka intended to manufacture and live at the shop location, just as she had back in France. She was following her Auntie Ada’s life pattern, now making a nitch for her old age. The banks here in Turas Lan were stable and inheritance laws would permit her to claim her husband’s assets once he was declared deceased. Or will his ship be found? Years have passed. It was unlikely Jan was ever going to surface from the ocean floor.

“Go down the hall; I will follow.” Aurilla went along the wide enough corridor back into a living space. It was but one room, a good hearth to the left, but some ashes left over. To the right were built in shelves, once more, these with doors to the bottom cupboard. “There is enough room for a table and a few chairs. “ There were narrow stairs up to second floor’s two rooms, one nice space street-ward and the other little more than a storage space with a shuttered window.

The hall went on back through a storage area into the courtyard. There, to the back was a shed, a chimney to it proved there was another fireplace in it. A half shed for wood sat empty. Doors opened down into a basement, which taking a rush light in her hand, Rilla led the way. “I know of this shop for it is where I slip in when a storm hits.” The underground space was low but not so much that Beka had to stoop to walk as Aurilla did.

There was no sign of water damage and the space was cleared of whatever it had contained, before.

The women talked and in the end, Rebbeka got enough of a loan from Martin lePower to purchase the little shop property, with the final payment to come when Marteau got her “inheritance“. It was not exactly that. But wealth awaited her there.

With funds left from the auction at that 1329 Masque , all her debts paid and passage to France assured, Rebbeka went about renovating the little shop. She hired all local carpenders, metal workers and cleaning crews. She tied her air up under a cloth and got right in there, working beside the cleaning crew. Her distillery vats came from the local blacksmith. Once everything was in place, local folks would feel like a part of this shop as they did with other businesses in town.

“You are welcome to take your scribe desk into the shop, when you wish.” The Marteau knew this pleased Martin lePower, who had put up the money for the little shop, that she was kind to his estranged wife, Aurilla.

“I do not expect so much business at a time that we cannot share the space.” Beka had several levels of colognes, from inexpensive to rare imports from the east. Most of the scents were of her own blendings. In addition, she stocked soaps made by local housewives, using scent and oils from her stocked inventory. There were fine needlework embroidery threads for sale, along with some imported silk threads. Thread and wool floss for sewing sold here were spun by local cottage workers. The variety of goods was designed to draw a wide variety of customers from all walks of life. It had been years since the war. People lived a better life, with money to spare for a few little things beyond the basics. Beka was going to give the ladies of Turas some of accents to live that better life. In the living quarters, back of the shop proper, she would work as hairdresser, offering face lotions and other beauty aids, which were popular elsewhere.

Once it was prepared, Beka moved into the shop, taking the front room in the second floor for her personal space and leaving the back room for her maid, Annie.

The time came for Rebbeka to go to France and she left Aurilla, trained to do the basic selling of shipped in products, while Beka was away.

~~~~~~

EarlySpring 1333

It is now spring of 1333. Rebbeka is back in Turas Lan, with new inventions and formulas for better products. The trade routes from the east brought her rare ingredients for her own scent mixtures as well as those expensive genuine eastern brands. She has repaid the loan in full, for she became a very wealthy young lady during her stay in France.

“I am ready to get out there and do some publicity, Ann. Have you got the basket ready?” Beka checked through a wide wicker woven basket to reassure herself that there was a good variety of sample size product to distribute. “There. I am off to the taverns, the inns and into the market square itself. The time has come to announce we are open for business!”

Out the door she went, neatly but conservatively dressed in a plain dove gray gown, cuffs and collar in crisp white linen. You will see the Marteau woman in the city, here and there.

The shop is open. At the sign of a floral Bouquet, by one corner of market square, near a spindly linden tree.

“Life is beautiful.” Beka would say, “Beauty in its infinite forms. The aromas of flowers, spices and clear air, to inhale any time of year.” She knew the value of her looks and talents. She was going to make the best of them while she could.[/color]

[Men of Skye]

The winter Masque of 1329 was a long time past... James and Rebekka had an odd relationship, by any standard. Now for the past three and a half years, when they were separated, letters would pass back and forth as if they were separated lovers... but they never spoke to anyone of the other... And in times James was in Turas Lan, or Rebekka was in France, their visits together would be filled with wine, song, and sex... Occasionally, a play, a ball, or minstrel show would enjoyed by both... or was it just their time together that seemed enjoyable. Regardless, time well spent for whatever need each sought, the other provided.

Here now is spring 1333, with the warmer temperatures and rains arriving, a sure sign spring was upon them... and James was back in Turas Lan on business. Rebekka’s business was doing well, and on occasion James had sent illicit items thru her shop from Turas Lan to blackmarkets in other parts of the world.

James stood in the market square gazing up at the heads upon the pikes, the skin now receded so tight that the definition of skulls now became prominent. His sea-green eyes narrowed... no emotion... just a blank stare. Oh how he now wished to see Rebekka... she always made things better with her attitude. If he had one weakness, it was Rebekka Marteau... Yet James knew she was a black widow.

[Men of Skye]

When he visited in Turas Lan. Rebbeka and James were sometimes seen walking along together; she took his arm and they spoke to noone except each other. Aurilla was watching, for she was thinking about matchmaking. To Rilla, her employer Marteau would be just perfect for Rhupert Jenks, Martin's aide. Before she got into making trouble for Jenks, Aurilla attempted to find out more about this James, the man with green eyes. She kept her eyes open, asking questions of Rebbeka when she thought the girl was ready to confide in her. Writing love letters for an occupation had Aurilla's social snooping skills honed to super sharp. No matter how she phrased it, like blood from a turnip, Rilla got nowhere. She came to think that this James, whose last name she did not discover, must be a cousin or a some other relative. If he were a business contact like one of the shipping agents for shop supplies, why Mistress Marteau always had her maid or Aurilla in the room when one of those men visited. There were no gentleman callers or suitors for Rebbeka. This mystery had Aurilla baffled. And she did not like not knowing all the details.

Rebbeka Marteau was a grass widow. Some say that, like a crown of grass is a field promotion and the central government does not know it is legal yet, her husband sailed off headed to the Strait of Gibraltar and did not arrive or return. She was "promoted" to widowhood, it is not yet known for certain or legal, without more proof.

This day she was on her workshop, far back of the sales room inside of one of the vats used for large batch mixing, scrubbing the interior. Her hair was tied up in a cloth, clear lens goggles covered her eyes and a cloth wound over her nose and mouth, dealing with the fumes. In bare feet and her underwear, Marteau scrubbed the vat to a cleanliness that met with her exacting standards. She did not hear a rap upon the shop door. Her maid had the day off and Aurilla was away delivering love notes all over town. She did not hear when someone entered the building. The sound of her elbows hitting the vat walls as she scrubbed it clean rang like a bell, blocking other noise.

James always made it a point, in Turas Lan, to avoid that nosy older woman Rebekka employed. Not understanding the motive, it was best to avoid her. And alas, she would be alone. He watched from across the street until the maid, and the nosy woman was gone. Then he made his way across the street and entered the shop. Looking around he did not see Rebekka and it concerned him... and inside the shop, deeper in its recesses where the vats lay, he heard a noise. Climbing the stairs he looked over the rim of the vat and smiled.

Below him, scantily dressed, her hair up, a cloth binding her mouth and nose. “Nice legs, mademoiselle...” he chimed from above. Dropping his cloak and vest, he hiked one leg over the vat’s edge, then the other, and slide down the sides until he was beside her, where he almost tackled her... Pushing her back against the wall of the vat, he pulled the cloth away and pressed his lips to her... his hands pinning hers above her head. “Amazing what ya can do in this thing...” as he crushed his mouth upon hers again.

[Men of Skye]

To Stornoway

Later, after they had cleaned up and redressed, the pair still radiating with various scents, he sat in the plush chair in her bedchambers.

"Look at this James." She dragged a framed picture from behind a crate and lifted it up, resting the lower edge on the nearby table, so the firelight enlightened the surface. It had two simple walnut veneer doors over the painting. "A shipper of my sandal wood supply from Morocco, brought me this item. He says he found it in a salvage goods outlet, in Ksar Srhir market. Tell me what you think." Beka unlatched the doors and opened the covering to reveal a painted image of a lovely young girl with thick strawberry blonde hair, her twinkling blue eyes so life-like looking out from the past. She wore a blue gown cut in style in vogue about five years ago.

“Very nice case... good workmanship... and the girl is beautiful...” ah, she looked so familiar. His fingers traced the wood as he spoke.

"He said he thought it would amuse, for he thought it resembled me. James? It is me. This is the portrait I had done for Jan's ship cabin, before the last voyage. He sailed to sea with this portrait. The Rebbeka did not sink with out being boarded, and this proves it. Perhaps, somewhere, some how Jan and my father are alive, still. Or someone knows they are dead. I need to know. A lot depends on finding out what became of them both." It was not only was she a widow or not, but also two fortunes that she might inherit, living as she did in Turas Lan.

“Hmmm...” James stroked his chin... “Odd isn’t it?” he canted his head a bit... “Maybe pirates, or privateers, got her.” He looked at her, hoping, then to the fire in the hearth... “And IF they are alive? Then what?” he inquired... Her man alive?! That would not do... first off, he would have to convince her to continue seeing him... or would he? It would not be the first woman to be married and shared her bed with him... Then he may have to decide upon a new partner IF she returned to her husband... or something tragic could truly happen to him... James’ mind went upon a rampage, considering one thing then another, should her husband be alive.

An unconscious shrug elevated his shoulders, then drooped... Her Father? What of him? Surely, he would disapprove of him and her... He looks back at Beka... “Luv, shall I begin to look for them... My work here in Turas Lan is almost done... I must go to Stornoway... then I can go back to Paris...” then he stood and turned toward her. “I can inquire of them with my contacts.”

Pouring himself a drink, he looks at her side-glanced while drinking his drink. “What do yu say to us going to Stornoway together?” he smirked...

"Stornoway? I'd like that. I have to go there sooner or later, to look at a warehouse I am considering leasing. It would be so nice traveling with you, I had not that was possible." When she visited him in Paris, there was business for the perfume contract to the court to be accomplished. She went to sea under the watchful eye of lePower shipping officers and with her maid, was as safe as a woman alone could be. This time she was leaving Annie back at the shop.

James just smirked... “Partner with me and yu shall have more than yu expect, Cherie..” He spoke softly in the French language. “I am beginning to miss yu when we are apart... for our times together are fulfilling...” edging closer to her in a most seductive way, his manners so provocative.

Rebbeka glanced to the portrait and sighed. "I am half afraid to hear what become of Jan and Father, especially if they suffered before they died; and if they are not dead, especially Jan. He might not even recognize me, if he lives that is. I am not the little girl he married, back when I was fifteen, anymore. There are more things that interest me than that life held. I like my life as it is now." Beka looked directly at James. Without saying the words, for they both spoke in actions rather than words, Rebbeka was saying how much she valued him and the time they had together. Who would have guessed two could fit into one of the vats in her workshop? For the first time Beka was having fun. No, if he came back, Jan would not like her as she is today, not at all. If he was dead, she was a very, very wealthy widow.

“Cherie, think not what or how they suffered... for dead is dead is it not?” He was being stolid and indifferent, not to be mean to her, but to be firm and supporting... “If they are alive, this would not be beneficial for yu, no?” His fingers lifted her chin and he lightly kissed her lips... “Aye... yu and I are something to be contended with...” and he smiled.

"How will we get there? Will we be staying in the same inn?" This was going to be such fun.

“We sail on the next ship to Stornoway... in two days hence...” then he smirked at her next question... “Inne?” then he laughed wickedly... “We shall stay at Dun Charlabhaigh Castle... where the Earl o’Stornoway lives...” Canting his head, he smiles and winks at her... “None could expect any less from the Royal Merchant of the French King’s Court... and land owner o Lewis... and his wife, could they?” he now gave her a very wicked smirk... “None shall be the wiser...”

He was very well connected, with royal seals and parchment... and as deceptive as he needed to be, and lies flooded from his mouth on a regular basis... But not with her... it was as if she was his Achilles Heel. And yet, he had offered to find her Husband and Father... but what would he do if he found them alive?

"I appreciate you checking on Jan's ship. All the searches, I hired done, came to no conclusion other than it vanished. One item come to light, there may be other clues." Work and account books and James du’Chere filled her days now and Beka was happy. "Why now? Why did this picture come back to haunt me?"

James shakes his head... “Haunt yu, MiLady? Nay, a mere obstacle...” he neared her once more, again being provocative. “Yu say the word, and they shall be no more than a bad memory...” His hand caressed her face. She may be the Black Widow, but he is the Grim Reaper, if one ever actually lived.

"So how many gowns do I need to pack for Stornorway?" Marteau changed the subject; she banished that touch of sad mood for it was impossible to be like that in James' company. She laced her arms about his neck and added in lower tones, "I have already decided which perfumes to take along."

“Gowns? Several, but nay now...” he offered her a wink, as his hands began pushing the material off her shoulders... he would not allow her to remain in a depressing mood, not in his presence... His words would be muffled against pale skin as he began to kiss her bare shoulders... his hands roaming about her form... “Take what yu wish, for we shall have a working holiday... but pleasures shall nay be denied...” then he bit her lightly, and as usual he was alternating his methods between soft and genteel, and rough and vulgar.

By this time, Beka had been with James longer than her marriage had been, spending more time with him that she had with any of the men in her life. As long as her lovely, perfect skin did not get marked, Rebbeka considered his attentions, at times, as a part of an intensifying relationship. The ladies at court and their talk she overheard while dressing this one's hair for a ball or bringing in a special face cream for a lady, for she was actually appointed Court Perfumer, in France, led her to believe this was what real men were like. The good ones.

"So? Would like a portrait of me? Not like the one over there." She gestured to the opened doors of the painted face of her as a sweet young girl, still in her teens. Rebbeka was still only coming into the true bloom of her beauty. "If I can find an artist of skill and brave enough, choose any costume you prefer, or none at all." Oh she had changed since she was fifteen, to be sure. A lot of that influence had come from associating with James du’Chere. Was it love or some other kind of affair? She did not know. All that the Marteau woman realized was that she was getting in deeper and deeper with this man and she rather liked it.

“Portrait?” he smirked wickedly… “Yes, a portrait would be nice to hang in my gallery…” then he ripped her dress and pulled the top portion down to her waist, his teeth sinking into her skin upon the shoulders… his hands hiking the hem of the dress up above her thighs… and positioning her lewdly against the wall… “None at all would be nice…”

Love, or an affair? Or was it a love affair? Or was it deeper than that? Regardless, the two engaged in sex, sex that often would be deemed socially unacceptable… in vat for perfume… or the corridors of the King's palace … or the side-streets of the market… Genteel and passionate… or rough and demeaning… the desire for each other was like a habit…

After they had physically sated themselves, James made his way to the cabinet that held a bottle of whiskey… pouring himself a drink, he looked back at her… “You?” then he poured another for them both… Walking to her he handed her a glass… proposing a toast… “To a fruitful and profitable relationship my dear… Today, Stornoway, tomorrow is whatever we want…”

[Men of Skye]

James strolls down the cobblestone road toward Beka's shop... long strides carrying him quickly toward his destination. Up to the door, he pauses, then knocks upon the door.

She brushed the crumbs off her apron and sat the bread back upon the table, thinking "Who would come here of a Sunday morning? Another like me who is not at church." Beka had to laugh at the thought and she was smiling when she answered the door. "Good morining? "

"Good morning M'Lady... Are yu open?" the man said as he glanced around. The greeting was business casual as usually it was... though outwardly they appeared business-like in Turas Lan, their relationship was much much more.

"Yes, of course. Please come in; have a seat. I was just trying to tidy the place. Annie's day off, you know." The good little maid attended Mass and took herself a stroll to an nice inn for a pint. Beka knew and she did not mind. "What brings you to the shop? We have a nice men's cologne for aftershave, scent of musk and spice?" She held the door open as for any welcomed customer.

James smirked evilly, then stepped in... As she closed the door, he removed the satchel and laid it upon the table. Opening it with one hand, his eyes moved to Beka... "We are all set..." holding out a scroll... "Yu are officially, Madame du'Chere, wife of the French Royal Merchant of the King's Court..." he smirked wickedly.

"Dear Lord! That's rich! What a lovely document...this looks real." She tilted the parchment to see how the words aligned, that the seal had correct details. "How did ...never mind! We are going to travel! This will be so grand!" The urge to wrap her arms around his neck struck, so Beka went with her instinct, "We can have such fun James! I have heard the castle there is sumptuous!"

Almost jumping into his arms, the robe shifted as he embraced her... "Of course luv, it's real enough... it is the royal seal... one I keep as a spare..." he chuckled and kissed her neck. "We leave upon the morning tide... and should be in Stornoway by nightfall..." urges did strike at a moments notice around her... and he spun her around and pinned her to the door. "Yu have no idea M'Lady du'Chere..." he gave her a wicked grin and kissed her neck almost biting her. "Servants to wait upon us hand and foot... all we have to do is be pretty..." James had this all planned, for he did own property there... and more in the plans... And with him in his plans, is the Lady Rebekka... "Care for those documents should any be leery of our tasks... we are simply there to establish a trading company..." he smirked at her as he began to molest her.

Outside the shop door, the maid Annie put one hand to the latch and upon hearing the shrieks and laughing within the place, halted and looked with a painful resigned sigh, upwards to the sky, to plead with the Almighty. "Dear me! Again? What did I do to deserve this, I ask ye!" The serving woman turned and slowly made her way back to the tavern, for another round or two. "Tis gonna be a long afternoon, it tis."

The pair laughed and giggled as they tickled each other... it was as if they were young lovers, early in their lives... "Yu are leaving the nosy writer and the servant at home yes? I trust not the writer... she desires to know everything..." He almost had her clothes off, when he saw the servant Annie pass the window going away from them. "Damn..." he cursed in French.

"No maid! No Aurilla! Just us." she grabbed the edge of edge of her discarded petticoat to hold over her in case the door opened. It rather missed all it was intended to cover, so that the door did not open was good luck. "Ann knows when to vanish for a few hours. I pay her extra so that she does so." Still, she had not thought to latch the shop door until this moment.

Dropping his robe to the floor, he grabs her petticoat and tosses it aside... "Good... gives us more time..." he saw her latch the door and he smirked wickedly... "Why M'Lady... yu desire to be handled by a man..." Scooping her into his arms, he carried her to the bed and dropped her in it...

"Only a real man like yourself knows what girl really likes." Beka lounged there, one hand in her long blonde hair, long legs draped one over the other, in a pose she had figured out and asked, "Is this how you want the portrait to look like? "

Slowly removing his shirt, as seductively as he could, his barrel chest and muscled arms revealed again... "Yes M'Lady... now if yu find a painter... and he touches yu, I'll slit his throat slowly and painfully..." by now he had removed his trousers, and his manhood was hard and pulsating... "Do I know what yu like cherie?" as he climbed upon the bed.

"What do you like today?" James was not one to have a certain routine, she liked the variety, the unexpected she had experienced with this one, her ideal of what handsome was. Rebbeka like the daytimes, she could see every detail, much like a painter would see her. "He will not touch me - that is for you and no one else.... You do know what I like. " Beka did not look up with more than her eyes, not knowing what to expect.

Standing upon his knees upon the bed..., he pulls her to face him... "I want yu... in every facet and fashion... when I am away... I miss yu... when I am alone asleep, I miss yu..." then he pulled her closer, his hand caressing her face...his French language seeming to fill her room with the sensual mood of desire... Pressing himself forward, to simply slide between her thighs... the pulsating member rested against her skin. "Yu have me excited each time I near yu..." his other hand, free pops her ass then pulls her closer. "Damn yu woman..." He crushes his mouth upon her and begins to kiss her passionately.

FADE to BLACK...

The evening came upon them faster than expected... and James rolled out of bed. Her dismay evident upon her beautiful face. “I have to ensure the cargo is onboard... Don’t wanna leave it now do we?” he smirked. “Yu need to make sure yu have everything packed... The ship sails midday Cherie...” he winks at her... “Be done when I get back... we are not finished yet...”

James donned his robes and headed out into the streets, the lamplighters going from lamp to lamp in preparation of the moonless night. In a side alley, a whistle is heard as he passes the entryway... Looking around, he makes his way into the darkness...

“MiLord... yer instructions ‘ave been followed... the crates and men are in the hold, and I nay suspect any is more the wiser...” the hooded man spoke with a Spanish accent.

“Good... I was just on my way to check things... yu have saved me a trip, oui?” Reaching into his pocket, he withdraws a small pouch, laden with coins. “Fifty gold coins... as we agreed... the other fifty when the ship arrives in Stornoway... How will yu get the men off without any notice?”

“MiLord...” the man looked around waiting for passers-by to be out of earshot. “The men shall remain on the ship until nightfall... the crates shall be reinventoried and scheduled to the warehouse by the following morn. By nightfall, the plan will be invoked. The man on the nighgirl-thingych shall see nothing... then the men will take the crates and shall slip overboard to a waiting boat... and away... none the wiser... They shall spill some copper gryphons around the hold, making it look like the Skye crews took the crates...”

“Sounds feasible... just make sure the Mo’r Triath is implicated and not be or M’Lady Marteau, er, du’Chere...” James chuckled. He nods to the man who disappears deeper into the darkness of the alley. With a carefree chuckle and a cant of his head, he turns and makes his way to the edge of the street, looking left then right, making sure he was not seen; he enters into the street and makes his way around town, wasting time as if he had been to the docks.

Two hours later, James returns to Beka’s door... When she opened the door, James steps in giving her a wicked smirk, his hand closing, and locking the door... soon lamps inside were dimmed and two shadows melded into one.

Next morning early, with the background of birds chirping on the window sill to wake this season, spring, a party of travelers headed to the docks, for the ship had arrived and was unloading it cargo, shuttled over from Stornoway. Piles of crates, barrels and cartons littered the dock, some heading out and others being claimed by this business or other.

James and Beka rose early, and ensured they had everything, then as the well-designed carriage arrived and waited for them outside. The knock on the door was the carriageman there to claim their baggage. Soon afterwards, they were on their way to the docks.

Among the familiar faces looking to the gang plank for friends and relatives was Dora Lynch and three children with her. The new one she carried in her arms, a robust boy of about two years of age, tall enough that his legs dangled the length of Dorie's apron. His light blond hair stuck out in spikes, due to the haircut one of the older brothers gave him. Loomis and Liam could not sit still and ran back and forth to the ship, looking for their Da, Clovis, to come ashore.

Beka walked arm-in-arm with James, her documents to prove she was Madame du’Chere, safely tucked in her blue damask carrying bag. "James? This is the only ship going to the port? I do hope they have secure cabins." She had all her perfume shipment in care of the dock workers and simply trusted them to get things right. Good tips eased the process and Rebbeka was generous.

James had assisted his “wife” from the carriage and escorted her up the gangplank... As they reached the top, a man waited there for them specifically. “G’day MiLord... MiLady... come with me, yer cabin is ready...” James nodded but showed the man no emotion. As they followed the man, James looked at Beka... “Have faith in me MiLady... yu should expect more as Lady du’Chere...” he whispered and then smirked at her when she squeezed his arm.

"Oh look! Mistress Lynch has a new child with her." She did not point but glanced in that direction. "Did you ever think of having a son, James? When I was very young, I almost had a child with Jan, but lost him early on." It was not like Beka to speak about the past, but she did not keep secrets from du’Chere, not for very long, that is. She almost said more, but the staff came and gave him notice that it was time to go aboard the ship.

James followed the man along the deck of the ship, his wife upon his arm... down some stairs and she caught him by surprise. Canting his head at her, he glanced at the man in front, then to her. “Oui...” he nodded speaking French so none within earshot would understand. “... Before yu, never... but in our years together, I have considered it a time or two... just in case...” he smirked... “Yu offering?” Then his hand slipped down to her arse and cupped it fully, not even looking around to see if any observed his actions. “A girl as beautiful as yu, I would be proud...” then he winked.

Rebbeka managed to step carefully on the wooden path, stepping in between the slats nailed crosswise over the plank surface, so no one slipped. There was only one thick hemp rope railing to steady folks. Today she wore a medium gray wool gown, smooth weave, with white cuffs and collar. Her hair was down her back in a crocheted black silk net; a wide gray felt hat she tied down with black ribbons.

The man in front of them opened the cabin door and bowed, allowing them entry. “Will that be all MiLord?” James allowed Beka to enter first... Looking at the man... “Bring wine and fruit as soon as possible, MiLady is famished...” then he dismissed the purser and closed the door. “Tis ashamed all THESE people sound so illiterate and uncouth...”

If good looks counted, the du’Chere "couple" had the votes to win any contest. "We will have such fun! We can look at warehouses, yes? I could use your good eye for a building with potential." She was going to keep export stock here in the harbor, to send out as needed with various ships, to cover more territory with one shipping out of Turas Lan charge.

“Beka, I own a warehouse, do yu require more?” he teased, with his hand angling down at the wrist. They spent the first few moments settling in. “T’was fastidious of the Captain to offer his cabin to us...” He did not mention the wrestling of power his men had to do, to “convince” the Captain to offer his quarters to a Frenchman. The knock upon the door meant that the wine had arrived. James opened the door and the man set the tray upon the table. “Merci...” The man bowed... “By yer leave MiLord...” James just nodded.

As James closed the door, he looked at Beka. “So the body’s clock speaks to you M’Lady...” then he sat upon the Captain’s bed. “What made yu ask about a child?” then he patted the bed. “As busy as we stay, I am surprised yu are nay with child... are yu?”

“No, I am not." Rebbeka untied the ribbons and settled her hat upon a hook on the wall. "I am not counting out the possibility, in future. If it pleases you." She continued to speak in the French language, it was becoming easier of late.

Her French was getting better, but he, among others would be able to tell that she was not a native speaker... though with him, it would be much more difficult. “Pleases me?” he offered a smirk. “Yu please me... and if a child is required... then we shall see, though I refuse to give up such pleasures with yu...” he teased her as he spoke in English that she would clearly understand without translation of mind, his hand sliding along her buttocks and around to her inner thigh, the material frustrating him.

"Does the Captain have a comfortable place to rest? Let me test and see." She sat on the corner of bed, with a nod of approval. "Yes; very comfortable" Beka kicked off her clog shoes and waited for the ship to begin to move away from shore.

He stood before the Captain’s bunk, which was larger than all the beds upon the ship. “Well, is it sufficient?” he smirks wickedly.

"Sufficient..."[/b]" she smirked, then changed the subject. "I love the moment when the wind fills the sails and the sea rocks us as if were driftwood on the tide." She sat cross-legged on the edge of the thick down feather mattress, so very at home aboard ship. "Did I ever tell you I was born at sea?"[/color]

“I was not born at sea, but it seemed my life is half at sea, as much travelling I do...” he smirked... “especially since I met this fascinating wench across the sea...” In the past few years, he, and Beka, had made many trips from France to Turas Lan, and vice versa... Now he was teasing her again. And he sat upon the bed, seeing if it is as comfortable as she said.

Then, suddenly as the ship exited Turas Lan harbor, a gust of wind filled the sails and the ship lurched forward, heading off to sea. When that abrupt movement hit, the entire ship, cabin and all shook; metal hooks outside their little room clinked, the timbers of the hull creaked.

Rebbeka tumbled back from her seated position to fall backwards, suddenly found herself with her head resting on James' lap. She looked up at him in surprise. "It seems we are on our way."

“As yu should be lass, as yu should be...” he patted her head as she lay in his lap... and he offered a very wicked smirk.[/color]

[Men of Skye]

They had a lovely time, remaining in the Captain's cabin almost the entire voyage; fresh fruit for snacks and good wine to sip, why Beka did not get even a hint of the seasickness that sometimes plagued her. James would not have to know that in spite of being born at sea, Rebbeka was not such a good sailor.

The days spent in the cabin were very enjoyable. With no reason to go topside, the pair spent the entire voyage wrapped in each other’s arms. Their meals brought to their room, and honeypot removed daily by a crewman, usually a young lad of 7 or 8. Each time, James awarded the lad for his service with French coin. “Spend wisely lad...:” he would always offer, as the boy sunk his teeth into the coin, then pocketed it offering in return a smile and thank you..

"It was like being rocked to sleep." It was easy to get accustomed to the luxuries she enjoyed while in the presence of du’Chere. Back when she was a sea captain's wife, the Dutch ship had a bed built into the wall, like a cupboard shelf. There was no curtain or door to it. Her husband did not lock the door to his quarters, for he felt the men had a right to contact their captain anytime at all. Therefore, when she was at sea, back then, Rebbeka changed her clothing under cover of a blanket. When she slept with her husband, it had to be under cover of that blanket. She had wished just once for the freedom to breathe air without wool fibers in it during times of love. To not have the tense feeling that one of the men might walk right in at the wrong moment. It had happened before, during an emergency. It was so different being with James, her usually sunny nature was so much more bright. The cabin here had a latch on the door. There is a certain freedom with having a private space.

James and Beka did not dress for anything special. Gowns were possibly the only material things they wore the whole trip; otherwise, they were usually naked and in the bed... As they lay in the bed early one morning as the sun shown thru the many windows of the Captain’s quarters, just chatting about their trip.

"Will we be going directly to the castle? If I am not going to see you warehouse, tell me some of it."[/i] Love talk... Business, profits, and shipping costs. Love letters written on blank pages torn from account books. That was Rebbeka, all right. But she was going to be dignified on this visit; worthy of the title the documents in her tote bag declared. [/color]

“We shall go to the Castle first... we can always see the warehouse...”[/i] he smirked. “The warehouse is a standard building, save for the escape route...”[/i] then he smirked again. “I have a route laid out should the situation become dire or should we need to hide certain inventory...” once again the wicked smirk crossed his face.

"Stornoway! We are here; get ready for the landing."[/i] A voice called out, as the herald walked by each cabin. The du’Chere couple got preferential treatment here, too. Their luggage went ashore first, and themselves escorted to land, as if they owned the ship. The Captain was not taking any chances.[/color]

James and Beka did not hurry, as they were here on their own schedule and none others; even though they were considered French court members, James did not allow the French court to control him, nor his “wife”... enjoying the preferential treatment; feeling he deserved it... and many individuals would court his whims... and hers.

At the rails, waiting their turn to disembark with everyone else, a young couple with curly dark hair held conversation in his native language, serious as their expressions. This, Beka did not notice; she had eyes for James and that was about it. After all, the man had it all, even a warehouse in Stornoway.

Couples speaking in native tongues had become more prevalent in the last few years, with the influx of peoples from around the known world coming to Skye to live a new life. Though James felt everyone should speak English, he paid the couple no mind as others were waiting on him and his beautiful wife.

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