"I thought you might like to head below deck and get out of the wind," Morgan replied, her voice surprisingly rich and cultured. "If you'll follow me I believe Cook should have something on for dinner as well." Allison knew she failed to keep the surprise off her face as she accepted the invitation and followed the captain in a befuddled fog.

Morgan led her down the stairs and through the door that led under the deck that she had recently occupied. Allison frowned at a pattern of scars that crisscrossed the captain's back, pondering them for a moment before her confusion lifted and she realized what they were. It didn't take long for anyone living in the South to recognize whip-marks. Why would she have those, she wondered to herself, frowning as she realized that this woman was becoming more enigmatic the more she learned of her. The narrow hall prevented conversation, so Allison followed quietly along as Morgan opened a door to murmur an order before heading deeper into the ship. She stopped in front of a door that terminated the hall, opened it and gestured Allison into the room.

Carefully Allison stepped through the door, looking around her with interest. The captain followed, closing the door with a soft thud behind her. The redhead found herself surprisingly impressed with Morgan's quarters. A couple of porthole windows, both opened for fresh air, let the late afternoon sun in to help the two oil lamps that lit the room. Everywhere she looked she saw the warm shine of brass standing out against the deep wood tones. To her left was the captain's bed, piled high with a feather mattress and a couple of quilts. A fur rug lay in front of the bed and a heavy trunk sat against the far wall. A heavy desk sat to her right with maps laid out, various weights at the corners. A deep, padded leather chair sat behind it with a dark blue shirt draped over the back, and tucked into the corner behind the door was an iron-strapped chest with a large padlock on it. In the corner behind the desk was an elegant wingback, a blanket thrown over it with a low bookshelf within arm’s reach. A book lay face down in the seat and on the bookshelf sat a candlestick with a pair of spectacles resting next to it.

A frown creased the smooth skin of Allison's forehead as she tried to match the room to the rough woman watching her. Deciding to let Morgan make the next move, she folded her hands in front of her and, keeping her back to the woman, waited.

Morgan watched Allison, wondering what the younger woman was thinking, as she took in the details of her room. Surprisingly, she issued no snide comment, no scathing remarks, she just stood there, waiting. Morgan frowned, then, scolding herself, she pushed away from the door and headed for her desk. Her breast brushed against the woman's arm as she slipped past Allison in the small quarters, causing her heart to jump in her chest. She walked behind her desk and studied the map that covered most of the surface, moving the small piece of jasper that represented her ship to its new position. Glancing up she found Allison watching her out of the corner of her eye, but still standing in the middle of the room, the sun streaming through the portholes making her hair shimmer. Smothering a smile, she decided to test her captive and see how stubborn she was going to be.

"Why don't you take the other chair, Allison. We've a long trip to port and I'm sure you would like to get off your feet." Allison glanced at her uncertainly, then, surprisingly, lifted her skirts a little and walked over to the corner. She picked the book up off the seat and set it up on the bookshelf before settling herself into the chair. A cool breeze drifted through the portholes, and with a shiver Allison tried to tuck her feet up under her but found herself restricted as the chain rattled against the shackle around her ankle. She grumbled under her breath, and, setting her jaw, continued to try to find a comfortable position. Morgan nodded a little to herself, then walked over to the corner. Allison jumped and looked up at her with wide green eyes, and Morgan tried to smile reassuringly as she crouched in front of the chair.

"Here, hold still and I'll remove this." Allison held her wrist out for her with a softly murmured "Thank you", and Morgan set to work on the lock, holding her wrist in one hand, the other working the key. Careful not to chafe the heavy metal against her prisoner's very soft skin, she turned the mechanism and let the cuff hinge open and fall into her hand. Allison stared at her with a strange expression on her face as Morgan stayed where she was. "If you'd like to let me see your ankle I'll remove this entirely." Allison's cheeks flushed with color as she shyly pulled her dress up to reveal the other end of the chain attached to the larger shackle around her bare ankle. Morgan knelt on one knee, propped her other up, and set Allison's foot on it. This lock was more difficult, and Morgan bowed over it, her hair falling over her shoulder as she concentrated on trying to get the difficult mechanism to turn. Finally, with a sharp click, it gave way, and she folded the metal away from her captive’s ankle and tossed the length of chain behind her. Allison tried to tuck her foot back under her skirt and Morgan grabbed it.

"Don't move...you're ankle is scraped up. Let me put something on it." Morgan got up and went to her personal trunk in the corner.

"My ankle would be fine if that brute hadn't chained me up." Allison's southern accent was sharp and angry, causing Morgan to grind her teeth in an unconscious reaction. Morgan pulled a soft leather pouch from inside the lid of the trunk and returned to the chair without responding to Allison's comment. Carefully she smoothed a cream around Allison's delicate ankle, then wrapped a strip of linen around it and tied it snugly.

"That should take care of it. I'll reapply some more cream in the morning." Morgan rose to her feet and returned the pouch to her trunk. She stopped in front of the bed and reached above it to close the porthole there, then closed the one on the opposite wall behind her desk. Morgan sat down at her desk and pulled out her log, deciding to ignore the other woman as much as possible. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Allison pull the blanket off the back of the chair and wrap herself up in it. Sighing to herself she pulled the dark blue shirt off the behind her and pulled it over her head, then set to putting down the account of the day in her log.

A soft rap on the door interrupted Allison's dream of helping her momma host a spring gala at the plantation. Drowsily she blinked her eyes open to find the room lit only by the warm glow of lamps. She saw Morgan open the door to let a scruffy man carry in a tray of covered dishes. He set it down on the corner of her desk, flashed a gap-toothed grin in response to something his captain murmured, then slipped out the door. Morgan quietly lifted a table top that nestled unassumingly under the edge of the desk, it's hinges creaking slightly as she pulled a gate-leg out to support it. Allison watched from beneath her eyelashes as Morgan set out steaming bowls of soup and a platter of thickly sliced bread. Morgan started to turn around and Allison quickly closed her eyes.

"You can stop pretending to be asleep, Allison," Morgan's rich voice teased Allison from across the room. She opened her eyes to find the captain sitting at the table with an amused look on her face, apparently waiting for her to join her. She carefully untangled herself from the blanket and laid it across the back of the chair, then stretched a little, hiding a yawn behind her hand. Cautiously she walked over to the table and carefully perched herself on the stool waiting there.

"I'm sure it isn't quite what you're used to eating, but Cook does a fair job with what he's given." Morgan picked up a dark green bottle and filled both of the glasses on the table with a rich gold liquid. Allison lifted her glass and took a sip, her eyebrows lifting in surprise as her tongue tingled with delicious flavors. Morgan smiled in response to her reaction, taking a sip herself. "It really is quite good. It's from the islands where we'll make port. They make some amazing wines from the local fruits."

Allison waited for a moment then followed Morgan's example as the captain took a piece of the crusty bread and dipped it in the creamy soup in front of her. Allison once again was surprised, finding the soup delicious and herself quite hungry. The meal passed in silence as both women devoured the meal before them. As she ate, Allison secretly watched the woman across from her. She couldn't figure Morgan out. She ate with perfect table manners, and with almost delicate motions, despite the fact that Allison could see calluses on her hands. The dark blue shirt that the captain had pulled on had a deep v-neck with laces that she hadn't bothered to tighten up, and the sleeves were rolled up to reveal well-muscled forearms that she wasn't used to seeing on a woman. Her tan seemed all the darker in the lamplight, and her blue eyes stood out starkly against her skin. Allison found herself mesmerized by the play of Morgan's skin over her muscles as she tore her bread into smaller pieces and had to make a conscious effort to keep her gaze from drifting to the shadowy curves revealed by the gaping of her shirt.

With a soft sigh Allison tore her attention away and focused on her food, sopping up the last of her soup with her bread. She picked up her glass and finished off the little bit of wine in the bottom, trying to remember when she had drunk the rest of it. Morgan was sitting across from her, finishing her glass as well. Following the captain's lead she put her dishes back on the tray, and the other woman picked the tray up and set it on the trunk next to the door. Turning around, Morgan stopped for a moment with a pensive look on her face then looked across the room at Allison and cocked her head to the side a little.