The Admiral
Bridgetown, Barbados

James Morgan

When I woke up the Morning Star was already anchored in Bridgetown.

I watch as the crew begins lowering the Longboats as they prepare to depart.

Charlotte and Eve approach me wearing dresses. Having only ever seen them in uniform before they make quite a sight, “Wow, where did these ladies come from?”

Charlotte uses her fan expertly as she flirtatiously smiles, “Ah Miseur, I do not know what you are talking about, we always look like this.” She bats her eyes at me. The no-nonsense Eve just rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

I catch a white head of hair moving behind them and my heart skips a beat when my eye meets with Arden’s.

She wears a scowl directed at Charlotte and Eve who I excuse myself from politely before making my way over the her.

Arden avoids looking at me as I approach her, and I almost get the impression she wants to run away. I get to her in record time and manage to take her hand just as she’s about to engage flight mode.

When she looks at me her face is already peppered with blush, “Arden darling, I don’t want to startle you, but something strange has happened to your hair. It seems to have been wrangled.”

Arden smirks and looks away, “Eve did it.”

I run my fingers along Arden’s long braid of white hair, “Do you like it this way?” Arden shrugs. She really doesn’t seem to care much about her appearance. “Arden, I get the feeling you don’t seem to know just how beautiful you are.” Arden looks away but I quickly guide her chin to look up at me. The longer I look at her the more I can see she’s been crying. Something within her has changed dramatically. “You are stunning Arden. All others are dim lights compared to the glory of the light you shine.”

"Christ, you're too much," she mutters.

I place a small gentle kiss on the top of her hand, “Are you going into town?”

“Yes.”

“May I accompany you?”

She pauses in thought, “Yes.”

I step back and examine Arden’s practical clothes: fitted pants, tall boots that come up to her thighs, and a white loose shirt. One might mistake her for a boy if her figure wasn’t so wonderfully accentuated by the cinch around her tiny waist.

Arden smirks and motions for me to follow her gaze, and when I do I turn to see Charlotte looking quite comical as she tries to scale the rope ladder down to a long boat in her long dress.

After a good chuckle, I make my way down into the longboat first and wait for Arden to climb down. She does so with ease, but regret sets in when I can’t help but ogle her buttocks and I feel my cock twitch.

Once we’re on land I learn that Ox and Azizi will be joining us for the day as Arden’s guards, “Guards and technically here in Barbados I own them. The slavers here are more savage than anywhere else, if they go off alone, they might be taken and we’ll never see them again,” Arden explains.

I stop in my tracks and look at Ox and Azizi, dumbfounded by what I’m hearing.

“Master treats us well,” Ox quips almost as if he’s been trained to repeat this response on cue.

“Very well,” adds Azizi.

I find nothing amusing about the situation and we keep walking through the bustling market.

Arden buys us anything that catches our eye, the exotic fruit is especially tasty, and she buys Azizi a hat his eyes seem to linger on. He tries not to smile when she places it on his head and examines him.

As much as I would have liked to spend the day with Arden alone, I imagine she’s hardly ever truly alone, especially on land as a Commodore.

I watch as she barters a better price for Azizi’s hat, she seems to speak their version of English like a native and uses their slang. It’s almost another language in itself and the accent is thick and friendly. As the woman tries to push Arden into buying another hat for herself, I notice a woman staring at Arden, it’s almost as if she’s seen a ghost. The longer I look at her the more of Arden’s features I find in the older woman’s face.

The woman hesitates and approaches slowly. Ox clears his throat and motions for Arden to look her way.

“Arden,” the woman’s voice breaks, and her eyes fill with tears.

Arden stares at the woman as if trying to decide whether to acknowledge remembering her.

The woman approaches Arden as if to hug her, but Azizi steps between them, essentially blocking her off. The woman’s face drops, and she stares up at the Egyptian giant.

“Arden, do you know this woman?” Azizi asks almost possessively.

“Yes Azizi, thank you, please step aside.” Azizi does as he’s asked. Arden’s eyes linger on the ground for a moment, as if she’s deciding where to go from here.

“You’ve been alive all these years? Why didn’t you send word, we all assumed the worst,” the woman says.

I discreetly take Arden’s hand into mine and give it a firm squeeze. Arden sighs almost painfully as if the encounter is already draining her and she’s ready to walk away, “Hello, grandmother.”

The woman’s eyes shift to me, “I’m sorry, how rude of me. My name is Casandra Moroes, I’m Arden’s grandmother.”

I shake her outstretched hand, “James Morgan, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Casandra smiles as she examines me, “Arden, please tell me you’ve come home with this man as your husband.”

Arden sniggers as if the very idea is preposterous, “No.”

“Give it time Ms. Moroes, I’m working on it but your granddaughter is particularly stubborn,” I feel Arden's eyes bore into the side of my head, but I ignore her.

“Oh, I like him,” Ms. Moroes eyes widen as she looks at Arden enthusiastically.

“Yeah, yeah, everybody does,” Arden mumbles as she takes her grandmother’s arm and starts to lead her away from us.

Aziz, Ox, and I follow the pair as they stroll casually through the marketplace, discreetly talking between themselves.

I don’t know why but I had knots in my stomach the entire time they talked. Something doesn’t sit right. I have so many questions I want to ask Arden, the woman is one big nut I want to crack. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

They talked for about ten minutes before Ms. Moroes said her goodbyes before leaving us. Arden intently watches her grandmother disappear into the crowd.

As I approach to stand next to her Arden looks up at me. If looks could kill, I’d be a dead man, “Thanks to you and your charming personality we have to go to dinner,” She grumbles as she brushes past me.

I can’t help but relish the idea of having dinner with her family. Arden might not give me answers, but if I manage to charm her grandmother it’s entirely possible she’ll tell me everything I want to know. I’ll be one step closer to unraveling the mystery that is Arden Lexington.

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