Molly sat back on her heels, stunned. Captain Norrington was looking at her quizzically, clearly curious about her odd reaction. In the split second their eyes met, Molly realized that he did not recognize her! Surely, she could not have changed that much? She felt a bit piqued that he did not remember her. But the rational part of her mind reminded her that she bore little resemblance to the skinny, bedraggled waif the Captain had rescued that long-ago night.

She covered her discomfiture by stacking her books and getting quickly to her feet, mind racing frantically. Part of her longed to reveal herself to the Captain for she knew she had changed from the skinny waif he'd met all those years ago. Her feminine ego longed to see the surprise and interest her transformation would surely spark in his eyes. But she also remembered her mistress' dark expression at the mention of the Captain's name. Elizabeth would surely not appreciate him discovering their island. Adoration for both her rescuer and her mistress warred for a moment in her heart. Norrington had set her on the path to a more respectable life, but Elizabeth had taken her into her home and her heart. No matter what she felt for the man, she could not betray the woman she had come to regard as a sister.

She could not tell him who she was.

Forcing herself to speak, she took the last remaining book from Captain Norrington, careful to avoid contact with his hand. The single brief touch they had shared still tingled across the back of her palm. "Thank you, sir," she murmured, and turned quickly away, clutching her books to her chest like a shield. But she found herself once again confounded by the door. Her arms were full and as she tried to shift her burden to free a hand, the door swung smoothly open before her.

"Allow me, mistress." The Captain stood beside her, gallantly holding the door ajar. The sound of his voice, smooth and low, sent a shiver down her spine and she chided herself for her foolishness as he looked at her intently. "Are you quite all right, mistress?" he asked solicitously.

"Just a chill. Nothing more," she attempted to brush past him and out the door, but he stayed her with a polite hand on her arm. The touch burned through her thin cotton dress. She shook him off irritably. "Sir, you presume!" He snatched his hand back quickly, as though burned himself.

"I feel I should see you home, mistress. Clearly, you are unwell." Molly had heard that tone in his voice once before and groaned inwardly. Nothing, now, would stop him from escorting her to her lodgings. The captain, she thought to herself, clearly had an overdeveloped hero complex. Sighing, she handed him the books and without another word, sailed out the door, the bewildered captain following close behind.

****

James had gone to the bookstore in search of some new books for the library on The Cygnet. It pleased him to keep a respectable collection of books for his own entertainment and edification as well as that of his men, though precious few ever availed themselves of its benefits. In his distraction, stewing over the unlettered habits of his men, he failed to notice the young woman coming out the door of the shop until he collided with her. Books flew in all directions and she dropped to her knees with a cry of dismay.

Hurriedly, he knelt to help pick up the books and set the situation to rights. He had no more than glanced at the young lady, brushed her hand in an exchange of a book, when she sat down hard on her bottom and stared at him as though she'd seen some sort of apparition. Her blue eyes were wide with shock, an expression made even more dramatic by the fringe of long, black lashes which almost immediately swept down to her blushing cheeks. Her voice was low and mellifluous as she murmured her thanks, almost to softly for him to hear.

Bemused, he helped her gather the books, then rose and attempted to assist her with the door which had confounded her moments before. She was shivering. He could actually see the gooseflesh on her slender arms. James sighed slightly as he felt the familiar protective instinct take over. "Are you quite all right?"

"A chill, nothing more." He saw her pale skin grow whiter still and fearing she would faint, laid his hand gently on her arm and felt the most peculiar sensation, as though his hand was prickling with St. Elmo's fire itself. Sensible James was quite overcome by the feeling that time had somehow slowed down. What should have been a chance accident, quickly set to rights, seemed to have taken on some deeper meaning, yet one that was elusive and made him decidedly uneasy.

The young woman angrily shook off his touch, which he supposed had been slightly improper, but the entire encounter was beginning to border on the surreal. "I feel I should see you home…" he found himself saying as though another had overtaken his powers of speech. He shook his head and wondered if, perhaps, he'd taken too much sun.

The woman shook her curls and sighed strongly through her dainty nostrils. Shoving the books at him, she flounced out of the shop without a word, leaving him to follow in her wake and wonder how his quiet afternoon had taken such an unexpected turn.