A/N: So here we are, my lovely readers. Story number four, and I have you to thank for it. I hope you enjoy this as much as you enjoyed the last. Read and Review, as always, to let me know what you're thinking! Thank you for reading!

Prologue

Reaver inhaled the salty stench of Bloodstone. It had been probably a decade since he'd been to his old port of choice, but not much had changed. It was still filled with pirates, whores, and more taverns than really necessary, and it still smelled terrible. His servants followed him off of the boat, scrambling to carry his things toward the hill that his old mansion rested on.

He took a swig from his flask, and he glanced to the nearest of his companions. "I think I will enjoy a drink in the nearest tavern. Be sure to have everything prepared for me when I arrive."

The man merely nodded in reply.

Reaver tucked his flask back into his vest, and he ran his fingers through his hair. He'd tried to dress as informal as his wardrobe would allow, but every edge to his clothing still had a crispness, despite the fact that he'd been at the helm all day. The sun had touched his skin, and left it a soft bronze that made his blue eyes even more striking.

He spotted the tavern, and he grinned. The Reaver's Roost, it was called. It was a place that he had frequented quite often in his pirating days, though it had gone by a different name He was surprised that its doors were still open, but he took it as a sign of good fortune.

The place was crowded and the occupants, rowdy. He moved toward the bar, ordering himself a drink, and his keen eyes scanned the area. No one of import crossed his gaze, at first, but when he checked the corners of the bar, he saw a promising young woman, dressed all in black. Her table was filled with empty glasses, and it was obvious that the barmaids avoided her for a reason.

The woman's face was beautiful, but her big, brown eyes were reddened and puffy from tears that had been shed. She stared, with much melancholy set on her face, into the tiny remnant of amber liquid in her tumbler, and she exhaled softly.

Reaver hadn't expected to strike gold so soon on his journey, but he wouldn't waste time. He swallowed the entire contents of his drink, and he ordered two more. He grabbed both glasses, and he moved toward the corner where the mournful ginger-haired woman sat.

Her eyes moved up to him, and he was almost taken aback at how close they were to Lilyana's. She brought a hand up to wipe at her splotchy, tear-soaked face, and she raised her eyebrows, as if asking him why he approached.

He offered her a soft smile, and he said, "I noticed that you had run out of beverage, and I thought to myself: what kind of man would I be to let such a lovely creature go without?" He set the drink down before her, and she accepted it, though she turned her eyes away from him.

"If it's sex you're looking for, sir, you'll not find it here," She said. "Though, I thank you for the drink."

He held up his hand, showing off the wedding band that he hadn't yet thought to remove. He noticed that she, also, wore one. "I am merely curious as to why you sit here alone." He slid, uninvited, into the chair directly across from her.

She sipped at the drink that he provided, and she closed her eyes. "You're the first person that's ever asked me that question." She started to get choked up a little.

He took the handkerchief from his pocket, and he passed it across the table toward her.

She blotted at her leaking eyes, and she nodded in thanks. She said nothing, though. She decided that she needed another sip of rum.

"I am Reaver," he introduced himself, offering his hand over the table.

Her red eyebrows peaked with interest, and she looked him up and down. "I've heard about you."

"Many have, dear," he said, smirking. "And what, might I ask, is your name?"

"Penelope," She said. "My friends call me Penny, though. Well, when I had friends, that is."

"Well, Penny," Reaver said. "I could not help but notice that you are wearing all black, and from the look on your face, I doubt it is a fashion statement."

"You know a lot about fashion, do you?" She asked.

"A bit, though I daresay you are avoiding my question."

She sighed, her eyebrows knitting with thought. "I'm not from Bloodstone, actually," She said. "I lived in Willow's End, just north of here. It was quite a nice villiage." She nodded, but her shoulder slumped. "A fever broke out a few weeks ago. It was nasty, and not many survived. I did, but..." Her tears reawakened. "My husband...and my little girl...they didn't."

Sympathy washed, unexpectedly, over him, and his face became more solemn.

"I didn't get sick at all, you see," She continued. "Not a sore, or a sneeze, but my Thomas and my Lily, they had it bad."

Her daughter's name had been Lily. His grip around his glass tightened, and he felt the familiar anxiety slipping into his chest. He blinked, and nodded, bidding her to go on.

"They passed last week, and I couldn't stay there," She said, her voice dissolving into a soft sob. "Not in the home that we built together. Not when I had lost everything I loved in those rooms. Not when my husband died in my arms in the bed that we once shared..." She covered her face with his handkerchief. "Sometimes I wish..." She shook her head.

He had to clear his throat to force away the lump that was building.

"Come, dear," He said softly, putting his trembling hand over hers, trying to hold himself together. He hadn't expected to become so unhinged over this woman's tale of woe.

"Sometimes I wish that the fever had taken me too," She said, and she looked almost surprised that the words had come out. She covered her mouth. "I'm sorry to burden you with this sir. It's just that-"
"I understand completely, Penny," He said softly, interrupting her. "I do."

"It's a sin against the gods to wish something like that," She said. "And I came to Bloodstone...almost wishing that someone would notice that I don't belong and..." She paused, exhaling. "Send me along back to my family."

He pressed his lips together, and he blinked.

"I shouldn't be telling you this," She said, taking her hand from beneath his. "Thank you very much for the drink, but I should be going." She rose from her seat, but Reaver stood directly after her.

"If it is death that you wish for," He said, taking her hand softly. "I happen to be the type of person that is not adverse to granting that wish."

Her eyes widened, and her pink lips parted. She truly was a beauty. Thomas had been a lucky man. "You must be teasing me, surely."

"I have once felt as you feel," He said, his mind shifting back to that bittersweet day—the day he had broken. "I offer a painless way back to your family, Penny."

"And what do you ask in return?" She questioned. "I don't have gold, nor anything of value to offer."

"My dear, beautiful thing, you have much to offer," He said, cupping her face.

She hesitated.

"I thought I made myself clear that I was not interested in your body," He said, picking up on her feelings. "I merely wish to harness the beauty you were blessed with."

"What do you mean?" Penny asked.

"All will be explained in time," He said. "This is not the appropriate setting for such a conversation." He glanced around. "I take it that you are staying in one of the rooms here?"

She nodded.

"That simply will not do," He said. "I will send one of my men for you and your things. I have a place you may stay until the time is right."

"Why are you doing all of this, Mister Reaver?" She asked.

"If you had the chance to have more time with the ones you love, would you do anything?" He asked, raising a brow.

"Yes," She said, her eyes widening.

"That is why I do this."