Allison looked up from her perch on the side of the bed where she had been running her fingers through her hair to comb it. She gazed at Morgan with a challenge in her eyes as she let the waves cascade down around her bare shoulders. The rich, auburn locks draping over her hardly hid the fact that all she was wearing was her hair, and the rosiness of Allison's cheeks showed she wasn't completely nonchalant about that either.

"Since you threw my luggage overboard, I have nothing for bed," issued Allison in explanation of her nudeness. Morgan started to open her mouth to retort then clamped her teeth together with a loud click. Trying not to look at the nymph perched so deliciously in her bed, Morgan walked over to her trunk and rustled through it for a moment. Standing up she tossed a fine, white linen shirt at Allison. The redhead caught it, looked at it, then shot Morgan a questioning look.

"You can wear that to bed. It should more than fit you." Morgan turned the lamp on her desk down and walked over to settle herself in the wingback in the corner. Failing to keep her eyes from drifting over to the bed, she saw Allison lift the shirt up and let it fall down over her. Morgan swallowed hard seeing the sensual curves outlined in the golden lamplight before being engulfed in the shirt.

"Thank you, Captain," Allison's voice reached out to caress her ears from the shadows of the bed.

"For what, Miss Allison?"

"For the shirt....and your bed."

"You're welcome, "Morgan softly replied as she pulled the blanket over her. Reaching out to blow the other lamp out, she whispered softly, "Goodnight," and heard a soft goodnight whispered in reply.

The murmur of men’s voices drifted down from the deck to wake Morgan. She could feel the early morning light drifting through the porthole window to warm her face and knew that the ship had turned due south in the night. We should arrive in port late tomorrow, she thought to herself as she slowly stretched her legs out. She heard a rustling sound outside her door and, blinking against the sun, realized with a start that the bed across the room was empty. Her door opened and Allison backed through it quietly, pulling the door shut behind her. She turned around and revealed a loaded tray that she sat down on the desk. Morgan's mouth immediately went dry at the sight of her captive. Allison's hair spilled down around her shoulders, burnished to a beautiful red-gold by the beams of sunlight. She still wore the shirt that Morgan had tossed at her the night before, and the vision she created in it made Morgan's head spin. The bottom of the shirt barely reached the middle of Allison's thighs, leaving her long, shapely legs exposed. The shirt was missing the laces that would ordinarily hold the front of the shirt closed, leaving it open to reveal the sensual curves of her breasts. Morgan's fingers twitched a little with an ache she fought to ignore as the younger woman continued to move quietly, setting up the table and carefully retrieving the stools. She set the food on the tray out on the table, apparently oblivious to her audience. Morgan felt a pang of guilt shoot through her when she let her gaze trace the lines of the body visible as the redhead stepped in front of the light streaming through the porthole.

"Good morning, Captain." Allison's voice was warm and her eyes twinkled in the morning light. "I bothered your cook for some breakfast, I hope you don't mind." Morgan sat up and smiled back at Allison, shoving aside her anxieties for the moment.

"I don't mind at all, Miss Allison, and a good morning to you as well." Morgan stood up, wincing a little at the stiffness caused by sleeping in the chair. She reached above her head and stretched, her back realigning itself with a series of pops.

"You must be terribly sore this morning. I won't let you give up your bed again this evening." Morgan chuckled a little at Allison's attempt at chivalry.

"Don't worry about me, I've slept in much worse conditions than that." Morgan gestured to Allison to take her seat. The two of them sat down at the table and silently dug into the breakfast. Her cook had provided some dried fruit, more of the delicious crusty bread, and some hard cheese. Allison helped her devour everything that was on the tray, every so often glancing up to grin at Morgan. The captain found that she couldn't help but return the grins, despite the little voice in the back of her mind telling her she was sailing in dangerous waters.

After finishing their breakfast, they placed the dishes on the tray and returned the table and chairs to their previous spots. Allison moved around the cabin, seemingly unaware of how much the shirt revealed of her, and Morgan found herself following her movements with very appreciative eyes. Finally, she shook herself and started getting ready for the day. Allison had moved her various articles of clothing to the bed and was trying to smooth some of the wrinkles out of the skirt of her dress. Morgan poured some of the water that she had brought down the evening before into a small basin and, stripping her shirt and breeches, took a soft rag and washed herself down. She eagerly anticipated arriving at the islands so she could get really and truly clean. Using another piece of cloth she dried herself off, then pulled another pair of breeches out of her trunk. Pulling them on, she turned to retrieve her belt from beside the desk where she had dropped it the evening before, smiling a little to herself as Allison spun quickly to face the bed. Morgan chuckled a little at the knowledge that she wasn't the only distracted one in the cabin, noting Allison idly fussing with the folds of her dress. She cinched the belt around her waist, settling it with a twist.

Morgan stood at the desk for a moment, until Allison peered back over her shoulder at her. "I need to head up to the helm. I should have been up there earlier," she answered the questioning look.

"It won't take me but a moment to get dressed, then you can chain me up again," Allison answered, her voice sounding almost sharp. Morgan looked at her captive for a moment, then decided to ignore the comment.

"You can stay down here if you want, or go up on deck, just try to stay out of the way. I'll find you later on." Morgan watched the surprise register on Allison's face, then turned and left.

Allison walked across the deck, reveling in the feel of the wind against her face. Morgan had left the set of shackles lying on the floor of her cabin, pointedly ignoring her remark about being chained. Now she headed back to the bow of the ship where she would be out of the crews' paths. Making herself a seat on the coil of rope, she watched the activity of the ship with interest. The men on the deck and up in the ropes moved with purpose, everyone having a task to complete. Even the men she recognized from her captured vessel seemed to have found a spot in the routine, working comfortably alongside their captors.

The sun bathed Allison in warmth from head to toe, and she leaned back against the railing behind her and closed her eyes. She relaxed to the rhythm of the waves against the hull and let her mind wander over the details of the last day. She couldn't believe how thoroughly she had enjoyed her chess match with the Captain, and found herself eagerly anticipating the rematch she had promised. Allison found herself wondering again what story there was behind Morgan's tough facade, especially after a completely different woman had entertained her the previous evening. The gruff captain had turned into a confident, charismatic host, the former only peeking out briefly at the end of their evening. Allison puzzled over Morgan's behavior, playing back their conversation, the looks she had received, the warmth in her voice, the twinkle in those gorgeous blue eyes.