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land before her long, torturous voyage back home. Remembering the seasickness that wreaked havoc on her appetite the first few weeks of her search for Eden, she stifled a groan. She prayed conditions would be far different this time.
    But now she had a pirate captain to worry about in addition to her health. She studied the man as he ambled in front of her, his well-worked muscles moving as he did. His curly brown hair rustled beneath his tri-corn hat in the ever-present breeze.
    The man led her through the town toward the shop from which he insisted they purchase fabric. She wondered exactly why he so desired to make this purchase. He certainly seemed to be an eccentric man.
    The captain stopped suddenly and whirled around to face her. “Forgive my horrible manners, milady. I don’t know what got into me.” He offered her his arm, and she hesitated.
    Ivy did not wish to be improper, allowing a pirate like him to escort her, but there was nothing else to do. She knew she was being completely foolish. No harm could come from accepting his arm; the sailor was no doubt attempting to be a gentleman.
    She tucked her hand over his arm, and a grin illuminated his face. As they continued their stroll down the muddy streets, Ivy held her skirts up as modestly as possible both to keep up with the captain’s fast stride and to avoid dirtying one of her only two gowns.
    They passed farther into the town than she had been so far, and both the changing scenery and the darkening sky sent a shiver of fear down her spine. Taverns lined the streets, and drunken, raucous men flooded into them; women of questionable morals spilled from balconies and porches, displaying their wares.
    Ivy inhaled a deep breath before looking away, but choked on the stench of rotten fish mingled with alcohol, urine, and filthy body odors.
    Captain Thompson grinned at her. Did the man never stop grinning? “I suppose the smell here isn’t much more pleasant than back on the—my ship. I apologize. Just be sure you stay close to me at all times. I don’t want anything happening to you on my account.”
    She nodded. All the men’s gazes who drifted her way sickened her. Some whistled and nudged their friends, chortling and offering lewd suggestions. A shiver iced down her spine.
    Captain Thompson tightened his gentle grip on her arm, giving her a small, reassuring smile. He ignored the men and urged her forward.
    â€œHow old is your sister, Captain?” Ivy inquired, trying to make conversation as they journeyed to the store.
    He didn’t speak for a moment, and Ivy wondered if he would answer. But eventually, he said, “She is seventeen now. Blast, I cannot believe my baby girl is seventeen years old already.”
    Ivy held back a smile. She knew how the man felt; her brother was three years old but, to her, it felt like he had been born yesterday. “I understand.”
    The man winked at her, an action that betrayed the forlorn look of his face, and finally paused before a wide building. “Ladies first.” He motioned for her to ascend the stairs to the porch.
    She entered the building, which was a shop lined with fabrics of all shades and textures, strewn with ribbons, laces, threads, and sewing supplies. Aimee would love this place. Pretty things such as these fascinated the dear girl.
    Captain Thompson entered behind her. His sailor’s attire and masculine carriage made him appear utterly out of place in this frilly store. He strode across the room and paused before a table covered in heavy bolts of rich fabrics. “What do you think, Lady Shaw? Which is the best?”
    Ivy laughed softly at his male point of view. “That depends on your tastes, Captain. I suppose I find this one exceptionally pretty.” She pulled out floral-printed yellow linen.
    Captain Thompson sighed and pushed the bolt back onto the table, dismissing it with a wave. “Aye, I suppose, milady, but Addie never liked