His tone when he uttered her name had been almost tender, was tender for him...  She should have known better.  taken, used, dropped on the fountain rim like trash.<br/><br/>Like a whore.<br/><br/>She fought for self control, got command of herself.  Mentally counting days on the calender in her head helped.  "I'll not bear your bastard, never fear."  Her voice was tight, as tight as her face.  A face she turned away from him as she dressed hurriedly.  And taking care to shield her front from the thin crowd.  Pain from her ear, she raised a tentative hand, felt wetness, a sharper sting.  She wordlessly showed him bloody fingers, tilted her head to show the torn skin of her ear, then grimaced and shook a couple of rum jugs found by the fountain, one sloshed a little.  She sniffed the contents, splashed a little on the raw bite, and hissed aloud.<br/><br/>Finally, fully dressed and armed, her musket re-slung over her shoulder, she was able to face him.<br/><br/><br/>"And now?  We go to the ship?  Or my boat, first, collect the usable stores, sell her if we can?