Gods, it felt good to be back on the ship.

Gorin leaned back against the deck railing, watching as several men brought his new wife's items on board—many, many items.

He was going to have to wait until she wasn't paying attention so he could throw some of it overboard. She wasn't going to need all those fancy dresses; if the men could get by with one outfit, so could she.

Damned high society and their desperate need to show off.

The reception had been... interesting. His crew on one side of the church, the navy on the other. And hell, it was quiet, but the tension was so loud, it made celebrating quite difficult.

And her.

She hated this. She didn't say it—she didn't have to. Her expression spoke for her. She was expressive, this one. Really pretty, with wide, stunning eyes and shiny hair. He wondered what she'd do if he removed the pins and let it flow loose, let the wind turn her wild as they sailed off.

Nah, he probably shouldn't even touch it. That's not what he was after anyway. She was their ticket, nothing more.

"Make sure no one is ever alone with her, Bully," Gorin instructed, leaning slightly closer to his friend and first mate. "These rogues can't be trusted with something so delicate. We can make it up to them by stopping at the next port. Lonny's favorite girl is there."

"Right, captain. Speaking of delicate, shouldn't you be with your new wife? If I recall, you spent your wedding night with us. Don't tell me you're not curious about all that softness, eh?" Bully teased, eliciting a hand wave from Gorin, who pushed off from the railing to leave.

"Please, she's far too noble for a roll in the hay with a pirate, Bully. Besides, she's our immunity—nothing more."

He strode past the deck and into the captain's quarters, leaning against the doorframe to watch her laying out her things. "You do realize you can't keep all this, right? Your bloody collection of scents will sink us, and we wouldn't want you to be harassed by the filth of the sea, now would we?"

He made no effort to move, to help, or to show any sign of warming up to her. Too soft. Too gentle. She wouldn't know what to do with a man like him, he thought before smirking. "No more balls or sipping tea with high society, princess. The admiral has left you in the care of a pirate. He threw your old life overboard, and the same might happen to you if you don't do something about all those damned dresses."

It was half a tease, really... Or maybe not.

"Woman, don't ignore your husband," he barked, advancing forward. He grabbed a dress from the bed, then another, and another.

"The sea will appreciate these," he mused, almost thoughtfully. Then, with the dresses in hand, he turned to stride out, not bothering to look back at her.

This would be fun.