Rosy hated that he disarmed her, kissed her again, and that she liked it, well, the kissing part.  The worst part was she wanted him to continue kissing her and do the things that haunted her dreams since that fateful day.  A knock at her door, “Is everything alright Captain?”  It was, Michael.  “Ye be needing any help?”  Composing her voice, she responded “I’m fine, Michael.  Is there something you needed to tell me?”  There was a pause before he replied, “Nay, all’s quiet.” Rosy assured him she was fine.  “If I need anything, you know I’ll holler.”  They waited apprehensively to hear him depart, footsteps receding.  Alone with Capt. John, she weighed the choices in front of her.  She could continue to avoid him, but that might spur him to do something more audacious, maybe the next time in front of Da.  If she told him, perhaps he would stop asking and leave her alone.  What was the best way to tell him something to allay his curiosity and keep her secret safe?<br/><br/>Sighing in frustration, “Alright I’ll tell you but only on your honor to leave after hearing what I have to say.”  She clutched the front of her waistcoat, while moving as far from him as the cramped cabin space allowed.  “I knocked on the door but when you didn’t answer I slipped in to see if you were sleeping.  It wasn’t something I’d planned to do, but you seemed so peaceful, inviting, and smelled much better.”  Rosy added the last part out of mischief but in truth, she did enjoy the smell of his clean skin.  I wanted to know what kissing a man felt like and when the opportunity presented itself I took it.”  She shrugged nonchalantly, feeling burning cheeks betray true desires.  Growing up in Port Royal and seeing love in all it’s forms, Rosy was unsure if what she felt for him was just physical lust or something deeper.  It wasn’t hard to hear both sides of the story, from the pious Catholic nuns who lived in the nearby convent or the whores who plied their trade openly on the streets.  You only had to open you eyes to see couples copulating in smokey corners of taverns or dark alleyways.  Waiting for his reaction, she felt the silence was deafening.