The coronation was an elaborate event with all the pomp and circumstance the island could produce. The carriage that took Angelique to the chapel was decorated and covered in flowers and ribbons. Everyone was there from the nobility and gentry to the pirates and loyal citizens. Angelique tried to avoid Ian as much as she could, but he insisted on his men guarding the chapel, which meant he was nearby the entire day.

A long red carpet lined the aisle of the chapel and the children’s choir sang a multitude of religious songs, as well as the country’s own anthem. The chapel’s pews were lined with handwoven satin ribbons and bouquets of native flowers. The Priest was decorated in full, formal robes while Angelique herself wore a gown of violet satin that matched her eyes perfectly. The long royal robe of red and white hung on her shoulders with such a weight she wasn’t sure if she would be able to walk. She wore a simple tiara of diamonds and gold and her mother’s diamond and emerald earrings Edward had given to her on their wedding night.

As she walked down the aisle, the congregation rose and bowed or curtsied. She approached the platform where Father Billings usually conducted his sermons, but now there was an ornately decorated throne of deep black wood and purple upholstery sat awaiting its new occupant. The Priest was joined by Pastor Everett, who greeted her with prayer books. The two were to conduct the ceremony as a unity, representing both the Catholics and the Protestants of Westerly.

As she sat in the cushioned seat of the throne, the music ended, and a hush fell over the island. The Priest began to utter his prayers while passing a golden Thurible around the throne and above Angelique’s head. The smell of incents filled the heat of the room. Father Billings sang his prayers, while Angelique sat rigid in her seat, her hands folded in her lap and her head held high.

When the Priest finally ended his prayers, Pastor Everett stepped forward and began uttering another prayer. When he finished, the captain of her guards came out from behind the purple drape carrying a satin pillow with a golden sword, the hilt embossed with emeralds, rubies, and diamonds.

A young altar boy stepped out from the back carrying a larger pillow to match the one the sword lay across. On the pillow sat the royal crown, identical in the same elegant design as the sword, with the rim and spines decorated in emeralds, rubies, and diamonds.

Another prayer was offered, asking God to protect the queen and guide her with wisdom and compassion, then Father Billings removed Angelique’s tiara and handed it off to Pastor Everett. The tiara was placed on the second pillow as the Pastor exchanged it for the crown, handing it off to the Priest who held it over her head. Together they began issuing still another prayer, this one in what sounded like Hebrew, as Father Billings sat the bejeweled object on her head.

The guard stepped forward when Angelique stood, handing her the sword. She took it in both hands and stepped to the edge of the platform. The two religious leaders began asking her a series of questions, assuring the island that she was worthy to rule over them.

“Will you swear to protect and defend the Island of Westerly to the best of your ability?” Father Billings asked.

“I will,” Angelique answered.

“Will you guide and serve the citizens of Westerly as their queen, and swear to uphold the laws and rules set forth by Jonathan Abbott, upon the formation of this land?” Pastor Everett asked.

“I will,” she answered solemnly.

“And will you act as the voice for Westerly, the heart of Westerly, and the conscious of Westerly as you forge forward with wisdom and compassion toward those whom you will serve?” the Pastor asked again.

“I will.”

The Priest stepped forward to the end of the platform, flanking Angelique on one side, while the Pastor stood on her opposite side. Father Billings looked out to the congregation and smiled.

“By the power of God and the laws of the Island of Westerly, I crown thee, Angelique Maria Sophia Catherine Abbott II, Queen of Westerly, Servant of The People, and Guardian of The Laws.”

The sounds of cheers echoed through the building as shouts of jubilation and excitement filtered in through the open windows from the streets outside. Voices formed in unison as they all shouted, “long live the queen…long live Angelique.”

Ian paced the perimeter of the room watching Angelique move easily among the guests. He had changed into his formal Nobleman’s clothes and attended the coronation ball as a guest rather than a chaperone.

The moment he entered the room the young maidens tried to capture his attention. He wore a dark blue velvet coat with a silver rope that wrapped around his shoulder, and knee-breeches, white ruffled shirt and stockings, and brass buckle black shoes.

He was more than distinguished in his formal attire, but not as comfortable as his pirate clothes. His hair had been neatly combed and pulled back off his shoulders with a satin ribbon, and he had shaven his face clean of the whiskers he normally kept neatly trimmed around his jaw. His eyes seemed to shine like crystal in his tanned face and his teeth were brilliant white pearls that shone every time he smiled.

Angelique wore a gown of white satin with gold embroidered vines decorating the length of the material. Her skirt was snug around her tiny waist. The bodice accented her perfect round breasts. The skirt hung across layers of slips, petticoats, and a whalebone hoop cage. Her dark hair had been pulled up in elegant ringlets around her head and down her neck, and she wore a crown of gold and diamonds. She looked beautiful and regal, two facts that seemed to attract every man’s eye in the room.

Ian frowned every time a well-dressed gentleman bowed to her, kissed her delicate fingers, and offered his assistance in the months to come. He made a special note of each one of them and was determined to make sure the bloke knew he had to pass through a team of pirates to keep his offer to her.

Red had dressed much as his friend, with formal tales and stockings, and kept close to the opposite side of the room, watching, and stalking the queen on Ian’s orders. He felt hot and uncomfortable but refused to show it to the rest of the room. With Ian’s promise of a visit to the women, who were still occupying the ships, he found his discomfort bearable.

Guards and pirates alike paced the exterior of the palace and the docks to keep order. Angelique promised she would reopen the docks the day after the coronation, which meant the four ships that were anchored outside their shoreline would want to visit the island.

Ian was determined to get the bordello set up the following day, and start moving the women into the boarding house the contractor had finished the day before Edward’s death. With his gift of finances and Edward’s outline of how the money was to be collected and divided, he set up a simple bookkeeping ledger. He knew once the docks were open and the sailors learned of the women, things were going to start moving quickly.

A scribe had been busy writing the rules and regulations for the bordello as well as the instructions. Every ship that entered port would have to understand exactly how to use the bordello and how to participate in the sexual activities. The rules and prices would be listed at the pier in both words and pictures for those who couldn’t read.

It was Edward’s desire that there be a limit to the alcohol that was available per man during a single visit. He wanted to reduce the risk of drunken attacks and assaults on the islanders, and particularly the women. Because of this, the taverns and bars would allow a two-drink limit outside the bordello with another two inside the home. To Ian and his men, this seemed harsh and illogical, but Ian was willing to try limiting the drinks. Though enforcing it was going to be much harder.

Ian edged his way closer to Angelique when he realized the middle-aged man she had been speaking with was lingering much longer than the others had. As he worked his way through the groups of visitors, he came close enough to overhear the two’s conversation.

“I know how the people feel about having the first queen ever to sit on the throne,” Angelique was saying, “but I am not in a hurry to produce a new heir just to offer a male monarch.”

“With your father gone, it’s your obligation to carry on the bloodline,” the man was saying.

He held onto an ivory carved cane in one hand, a glass of champagne in the other. He was dressed in a formal suit with a top hat of black velvet. His hair was white, with white whiskers that came to a point on his chin. He had dark bags beneath his steel-gray eyes, and he held an air of arrogance about him.

“As his only child, that obligation has always been mine,” Angelique said in an amused tone.

“Yes…well, perhaps you should consider your obligation more seriously.”

“Are you suggesting I have a child, outside of wedlock? Even on Westerly, that’s frowned upon, especially by the monarch. However, I do set the laws now, so…”

“That is not what I am suggesting at all,” the older man said with a look of shock on his face.

Ian nearly laughed at the amused expression Angelique offered her companion. There was a streak of the jokester in the woman…and he was beginning to appreciate that.

“I simply think you should find a decent man and settle down,” the man continued after a long drink from his glass.

“And would you happen to have a man in mind, Lord Holladay?”

“Well…yes,” he began in a dignified manner as he adjusted his stance. “My son, James, you know him. He’s a very stable young man, honorable and from a strong bloodline. He would make an excellent husband and father.”

“And a good ruler no doubt,” she surmised seeing through the man’s invitation.

She had heard at least a dozen men and women offer her their sons as a suitable husband, and yet she understood what they really wanted was the prestige, of having their son crowned king would provide for them. This man was no different. As the oldest member of the Elders, he could be guaranteed to remain in the role of authority. It meant a nice cash staple every year and a certain standing that offered him the best of everything Westerly had to offer.

“A queen’s husband rules by the queen’s side. It is only natural that your husband would be king,” the man said. “A father wants what’s best for his children…and you should be thinking of your country and the people you serve. They need a strong, solid hand to help rule them.”

“You don’t believe I’m capable of ruling on my own?” Angelique asked with a frown.

She had been doing this job since she was fourteen…at the Elders’ insistence, she might add. If she didn’t know how to do it now, she might never learn.

“I do not believe you have the experience to offer leadership in some areas,” the elder Holladay began again, this time drawing the attention of several of the people standing close enough to overhear the conversation.

“Your father brought those…women, if I may use the term loosely, to Westerly in the hopes of turning our island into a land of pleasure and sin. As queen, you have the ability and the authority to discourage such a thing from occurring. My concern is that you will not go against your father’s wishes.”

“Why should I go against them?” she asked sternly. “His ideas regarding that place are sound and justified. It was his desire to bring peace to our kingdom and protect its citizens, and that is my desire as well.”

“What protection can that place provide us? All it is going to do is invite the wrong sort of ship to our island.”

“Those women will provide a service that will protect our women from those very sailors. Do you have any idea how many women were raped and assaulted last year alone? The whores will provide an outlet for their lust, without endangering our daughters.”

“In case you were unaware, Your Majesty,” the man said, spitting out her title as if he were choking on it. “The only people who are supporting that place, are the women. I have no idea why our ladies would want something like that to distract the men from their duties at home. I can only imagine what our daughters will become if we allow that place to open.”

“The reason your women are supporting the bordello is that it will take the burden off their shoulders.”

“What burden?”

“As Elder of Westerly, you are supposed to protect our women, keep them safe. Instead, they are in fear daily from what will - not might but will - happen to them. They aren’t safe in their own homes. With the whores, the sons and fathers will have an outlet for their frustrations, that doesn’t involve incest. Neighbors will not fear for their women while they are in the fields working. Girls can walk to school and to the market without concern of being accosted by over-stimulated boys.”

Angelique paused when she realized the buzz of voices in the room had ceased and were listening carefully to her conversation.

“I’m aware that my father had some…unusual ideas, especially when it came to sexual contact,” she continued after a deep breath. “He spent twenty years researching nearly every country on this planet. The results he came up with, are an interesting itinerary he believed would transform the average whoremonger. It would be a disservice to him, not to mention all of Westerly, not to give his philosophies a chance.”

“Do I understand that you support this insanity?” the elderly man barked with a deep frown.

Angelique was silent for several long moments as she considered the question. She had no idea if her father had completely lost his mental faculties or not, but she knew how devoted he was to his research. She knew, whatever her opinion on the home he had built, it was going to determine the fate of her island and the people who lived on it. Even if she wasn’t convinced of its success herself, she knew her father would never rest if she didn’t support it with all her heart - at least for the time being.

With a deep breath, Angelique squared her shoulders and looked Lord Holladay directly in the eye. She wasn’t going to back down to the man regardless of her own convictions. Plastering a half-grin on her face, she answered him in a clear, strong tone that was sure to make everyone listening, understand her decision.

“I am not just supporting the idea, Lord Holladay, I plan on making certain the women are comfortably set up and ready to begin work as scheduled.”

Angelique paced the confines of her luxurious bedroom with a stomach that jumped like a dolphin at sunrise. Rupert insisted that she assume her father’s old chambers now that she was the queen and had moved her belongings into it after the coronation ball. It was nearly eleven the next morning and the sun was already baking the island in a smoldering heat that made her feel sleepy, but she was far from being relaxed.

She couldn’t help thinking about the party and the guilt she was feeling from her encounter with Lord Holladay. Shortly after telling him off, the crowd began debating the future of the whorehouse, and how it would affect Westerly.

Lord Holladay was obviously embarrassed when he stormed out of the palace, followed close behind by his son James, but Angelique didn’t pay much attention to them. She knew the time was coming that she would have to confront the wrath of the Elders, but she didn’t care. She had made her decision and she was determined to stick by it, regardless of the opinions of a group of arrogant old men. What had her pacing the floor that morning wasn’t the conflict at the party, but what had happened when the party ended.

Ian had accosted her before he left the palace, pulling her into the quiet library next to the foyer. He was more handsome in his tailor-made suit than a man should be, but she knew in his heart he was a savage pirate.

He had leaned into her so closely she could still remember the masculine scent of his cologne. He smiled at her with such compassion, she felt her heart skip in her chest. It wasn’t until he slid his arms around her tiny waist that she knew she was in danger of losing control of her sanity.

“I am very proud of you for standing up to that pompous bastard,” he told her in a hushed tone.

“I didn’t do it for you,” she told him in a tone she hoped wouldn’t betray her racing pulse. “I made my father a promise to see this ridiculous idea of his through, and I never break a promise.”

“Then promise me something,” he said as he pressed her gently against the closed door. “Promise you’ll come to the bordello and talk to the girls. You’ll see they aren’t monsters…you might even find you like them.”

“Never,” she snapped angrily as she tried to push him away, but his strength was more than she could resist.

He pressed her harder against the door, his large muscular frame holding her prisoner. He met her lips with the full pressure of his, kissing and tormenting her mouth for several long moments until she opened it to breathe. Ian thrust his tongue into the champagne sweetened recesses, capturing her shocked gasp with his lips.

Angelique felt dizzy. Her lungs filled with the aroma of his scent then escaped in the form of short pants. Instinctively, she reached forward and held onto his arms for support as her knees began to shake beneath her weight. Ian took this as encouragement and pulled her firmly against him, wrapping her in his embrace so tightly she felt like he had become a part of her.

He pulled slowly away, smiling as she moaned her regret. Again, she gasped when his lips moved across her cheek to her neck, nipping the delicate flesh. Moving the edge of her gown’s bodice lower against her arm, he led his kisses to the top of her shoulder where he began sucking.

The sensation of heat was intoxicating, and she moaned again. His lips continued to travel even further down her body. The heat of his breath warmed the cleavage of her breasts and she forgot all thought of resisting him. She couldn’t think of anything other than what his mouth was doing. The feelings caused a tingle of erotic sensations to travel along her spine, and she began to envision the lustful nights with the dream version of him.

“Come with me, my love,” he whispered as his hand cupped her breast through the top layer of her gown’s material. His fingers pinched the hard point of her nipple through the soft fabric. “Come to the bordello…let me show you what real passion feels like.”

Angelique didn’t know what to say, her mind was spinning, and her heart was pounding so loudly she could barely hear his plea. Without thought of what she was doing, she nodded her head and was rewarded with the heat of his mouth across hers in a hard pressure that made the blood in her veins feel like lava.

“Tell me you want me,” he tormented her as his hand moved the material of her top aside and began squeezing her breast hard.

“Yes,” she whispered in a deep, husky tone.

“Tell me you need me,” he ordered, his fingers pinched her exposed nipple tightly, twisting it until she moaned in need.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Tell me you want me to make love to you,” he growled against her ear as he continued to torment her breast with his large, hot hand.

“Yes,” she panted.

“Say it…beg me to love you...”

“Yes, please…” she pleaded with him.

With a regretful moan, Ian kissed her again, pulling her bodice back up across her breast. He caressed the outline of her lips with the tip of his tongue before biting the lower one between his teeth.

“Tomorrow,” he whispered. “You will come to me tomorrow…I will be waiting for you…”

“Yes,” she panted, her eyes fluttering open as he gently pulled away from her.

He smiled at her with a wicked grin then offered her one last, brief kiss on her lips before opening the door.

“Remember, you never break a promise,” he said, stepping out the door and closing it behind him.

Angelique remained in the library until her heart slowed and reality seeped back into her passion-filled conscious. She gasped in shock, her hand pressing against her mouth when she realized what had just happened. He had used his knowledge of her dreams to trick her into agreeing to meet with him in that…place. She wasn’t sure if she should be furious or impressed that he managed to get a commitment from her so easily.

Angelique continued to pace the floor trying to think of a way to break her promise. She had spent the entire night trying to forget Ian’s kiss, only to close her eyes and have him there, welcoming her into their private world of passion. By the time the first rays of dawn filtered through her open drapes, Angelique was more frustrated than when she went to bed.

The truth was, she wanted to see Ian again, she just didn’t want to meet him at the bordello, and she didn’t want to talk to any of those women. Her promise to her father echoed in the back of her mind for the countless time. She barely knew the man, and yet she was forced to uphold her oath to him. Thanks to Holladay, she publicly committed herself to accept Edward’s plans for Westerly and that…place. But did that mean she had to become friendly with the harlots who worked there?

A soft knock sounded at the door and Angelique turned with a start to see her maid, Heidi, step into the room. Her long red hair hung down her back in a thick curly braid, her bright green eyes sparkled like emeralds. She bobbed slightly then went to the massive walk-in wardrobe. She returned a moment later with a light blue cotton gown and matching slippers.

Angelique sat at her mother’s old vanity and picked up the hairbrush. She couldn’t stop thinking about Ian. There was something about that man, besides her dreams, that made her blood boil. One minute she was angrier than hell with him, the next moment she was panting like a dog in heat. He was a pirate, and as such, he knew how to seduce women, but last night he was much more than that. He was dressed as a nobleman, distinguished, well mannered, and nearly as handsome in his velvet waistcoat as his tight tunic.

Heidi took the brush from her mistress and began pulling it through the long dark strands of hair. The satin-soft length cascaded down her back and across her shoulders. Angelique knew she couldn’t put off going to that home for long. She gave her word - albeit out of coercion - but nevertheless she had promised to meet Ian there, and she never broke a promise. What kind of ruler would she be if people couldn’t rely on her keeping her word?

Angelique stood while Heidi pulled the fabric of her thin nightgown over her shoulders, allowing it to filter to the floor before lifting the satin shift off over her head. Within minutes, the queen stood in the middle of the room completely naked. The warm breeze from the open window blew across her heated flesh as she waited as patiently as possible for the girl to gather the dress together.

She was never one to stand on formality, and wearing the fashionable heavy gowns was not her choice of style. She liked it simple enough. A dress, shift, and if necessary, a simple slip. She hated petticoats and bloomers, so she often ignored wearing them, and often refused to wear stockings at all. A pair of slippers was her preferred choice over heels or boots. They were the simplest for walking without having sweaty feet, especially if she were to get sand in her shoes. A quick shake of the shoe and she could continue moving without delay or discomfort.

Heidi slipped the gown over Angelique’s head and held it for her to slip her arms through the sleeveless straps. An audible gasp sounded from the servant as her hands paused from their task of dressing her mistress, causing Angelique to look up at the young face. Heidi’s eyes widened, her freckled face paled in horror.

“What is it?” Angelique asked with a frown as she turned to face Heidi.

“’ Tis the bruise, Your Majesty,” Heidi answered, looking at Angelique’s shoulder. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, ma’am.”

“What bruise?” Angelique asked with a frown.

“That one,” the girl said in a quiet tone.

Angelique turned to the full-length mirror seeing the purple mark on her shoulder. She knew immediately it was from Ian and clenched her teeth to contain her anger. She could feel his mouth sucking her tender flesh as he made it, and silently cursed herself for allowing it to happen in the first place.

Her eyes narrowed briefly as she mentally made a note to address this with the man. She was determined to keep her distance from the pirate, even if it killed her - or him. Then she glanced down at the gown Heidi had slipped across her slender frame.

“It’s nothing painful,” she told the girl honestly. “I’d forgotten all about it, but I think you should choose a different gown.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Heidi said with a brief bob as Angelique stepped out of the material.

She sat back at the vanity and waited as Heidi gathered the dress and returned it to the wardrobe. Angelique pulled her hair back from her face in a simple ponytail as she waited for the girl to find another dress, then slipped a pair of pearl earrings into her ears. She stood when Heidi returned with a different gown, this one was a bright yellow chiffon with cap sleeves, and a lace-up bodice.

She stood still as Heidi fastened the buttons in the back, then pulled the ribbon through the holes across her chest and secured them tightly. The young woman pulled a darker yellow sash around the queen’s small waist and tied it into a delicate bow above her hips.

Turning to inspect her reflection in the mirror, Angelique frowned. She looked younger than her twenty-one years, but she didn’t mind that too much. She had always been proud of her delicate features and clear complexion, though she wasn’t sure if she looked old enough to be queen. She always imagined she’d be much older when she assumed the title, but fate had a much different path for her to follow.

Angelique watched Heidi open the door as she slipped her feet into a cream-colored pair of slippers. Rupert stood outside the barrier and waited until the maid opened the door wider, then informed her, her carriage was waiting. Angelique drew a deep breath, taking the rarely used parasol Heidi insisted she use to protect her skin from the sun and stepped out of the room.

She loved the feel of the sun on her cheeks and refused to hide from it most of the time, but she wanted to make an impression on the women of the bordello and let everyone know immediately that she was not one of them. She was above them in every way, and she was determined they never forgot it.

Angelique walked casually down the hallway and descended the stairs to the large foyer. If she had to keep her promise to her father, and to Ian, then she would do it with as much dignity as her role dictated. She was determined that anyone seeing her entering the bordello knew she was doing it out of duty, not curiosity.

The carriage pulled down the drive and onto the street, heading toward the home her father had spent so much care in detailing. The only time she was there, was right after it had been built. Since then, the most she had seen of it was the white peeked roof from her bedroom window. Now, she was told there was a second home, a boarding house for the whores, so they could have their own space outside of the bedrooms used for guests, as Edward termed it.

On the king’s insistence, the bordello was not far from the palace, so the drive was short. He wanted it to be close enough to the palace, that the Royal Guard could protect it if necessary. He also wanted visitors to the island to understand that the home was under the protection of the throne. It was his way of protecting the women, and the property, from vagrancy or drunken sailors.

As the carriage pulled to a halt, Angelique could hear the shouts of workers calling to move furniture into the home, insisting they place them in the rooms they had been purchased for. The double doors were opened as Angelique stepped out of the carriage. She stood beside her guard for a long moment watching the chaotic scene of workers, women, two dogs, and a crowd of pirates. The loud baritone voice of Red could be heard from between the boarding house and the bordello, calling out to two of the men to move the dressers up the stairs.

Angelique opened her parasol above her head, ordering the driver of her carriage to move it out of the way, so the men of the wagons moving furniture could have a shorter distance to walk. She looked at the many bed frames, dressers, mirrors, and chairs that were scattered across the front lawns of both homes and frowned. It would take a month to repair the damage the workers were making to the plants that decorated the front walkways.

She walked up the steps to the bordello and across the threshold, closing her lacy umbrella before using it as a walking stick. The sounds of voices bounced off every corner of the house and she frowned at the echoes they created. How was the house to ever hold business, if everyone could hear the person in the room next to them?

Ian had seen Angelique’s carriage pull up but was too busy trying to set up a bed in one of the upstairs rooms to stop and greet her. He honestly expected her to find a way to get out of her promise, and had in fact, been feeling guilty for tricking her into giving him her word in the first place. Still, he truly didn’t regret his actions and was impressed that she had kept her word.

Having her in his arms was the most erotic sensation he had ever experienced, and he seemed to always be trying to find some reason to get her back into them. She was young, beautiful, very desirable, and more passionate for her own good than any woman he had ever met. The fact she had him visiting her in her dreams every night made his own nights seem long and lonely.

The sounds of hammering flowed down the stairs as Angelique began to show herself around the home. She stepped into the sitting room and paused at the sight beyond. The furniture had already been set into place and arranged in preparation for greeting the home’s first guests.

There were three floral designed upholstered divans, a dark brown room-sized rug edged with green vines of blue forget-me-nots. A dozen Louis XV green silk upholstered sitting chairs lined the room’s perimeter while a six-foot wooden buffet, two curio cabinets, and one square coffee table offered a contrast to the fabrics.

Kerosene lamps hung on walls in the design of brass tulips, while a three-tier crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. She hadn’t remembered seeing any of the lamps the last time she was here and remembered the contractor stating he still had some final details to finish. She could only assume these were some of them.

Ornately carved crown molding of vines edged the crease between the walls and ceiling, while the walls had been painted a very pale yellow. The windows were covered with thick brown drapery that hung precariously on brass rods. She imagined a firm jerk would have them tumbling down on the unsuspecting head of a whore or one of their guests. Overall, the room was comfortable and elegant, and would easily have passed for a sitting room to any gracious manor on the island.

Stepping back into the foyer, Angelique looked around, noticing the crown molding that had been carried throughout the home, or at least the portion she could see. At the end of the foyer stood the counter she had seen on her previous visit. It was cluttered with a variety of ledger books, a small locking safe, a dozen empty vases, and three wooden crates. She stepped up to the counter and looked at the first crate labeled phalluses and Diletto and frowned.

Curiously, she pulled the paper stuffing out of the box and retrieved one of the many canvas bags. Inside, was a highly polished wooden penis, about eight to nine inches long, with soft leather wrappings around the shaft. Angelique blushed profusely and quickly slipped the object back in the bag and returned it to the crate. Glancing through the box a little further, she found more pouches, heavier than the first. Cautiously, she opened one of the pouches to find a beautiful marble device, like the wooden object, but not as detailed.

Returning the pouch to the box, she tucked the paper back inside and looked at a pile of leather riding crops all tied together with a long leather strap to hold them secure. There was a smaller box with satin tied eye masks, and more than fifty, two-foot-long, dark blue satin sashes.

On the floor was another box, this one containing dozens of small metal shackles with much shorter chains than the ones in the dungeon beneath Westerly Hall. The shackles were thinner, less intimidating, and polished smooth with no sharp edges. There was a metal ring with dozens of small keys, identical to each other.

Angelique frowned when she glanced once more to the crates, before looking briefly through still another one on the end of the counter. This one held dozens of black leather whips. She had seen a drawing of these in a book of her father’s when she was younger. If she remembered correctly, they were called cat-o-nine and used routinely by sailors and pirates as punishment. To her knowledge, no one would be punished in this place…at least not badly enough to warrant the use of shackles and whips.

Ian stood on the stairs behind Angelique, watching as she inspected the supplies. He couldn’t help smiling at the embarrassment tinting her face, and nearly laughed when she hastily placed the phallus back in the box. He watched her walk into the office before he stepped down the rest of the stairs. He wanted to allow her time to explore on her own, but the urge to be with her was overwhelming.

Stepping into the office’s open door, Ian leaned against the frame and watched Angelique inspect the room. The furniture had been moved into the room, but unlike the sitting room, it had yet to be arranged. Angelique avoided looking through any more crates and concentrated instead on the books that had been set on the desk.

There were a variety of literature from around the world, many in different languages with colorful spines. She opened one and gasped when she saw the drawings of naked couples engaged in different sexual positions. Angelique set the book aside as she picked up another, looking at the spines of the rest of the stack. She was certain they all related to sex in some manner, then cautiously opened the book in her hand. She saw her father’s scrawled notes along the pages, feeling a sudden stab of grief rip through her heart as she imagined him writing his summaries.

Setting the book aside, she wiped the tear from her eye and stepped to the window. It had been a long time since she had seen her father and even longer since she had the chance to sit and talk with him. Now, all she had left of him was a stack of books, all pertaining to sexual exploits and perversion from around the world.

Ian watched the pain cross Angelique’s face and felt the compelling urge to go to her. A part of him understood the misery. Edward had suffered it as much as she had, but she was left to mourn alone.

Without a word, he stepped up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. He held her securely in his arms as she jumped and tried to escape his embrace.

“He knew you loved him,” Ian whispered in her ear and felt her immediately relax. “He loved you very much. You were his only concern. You were the reason he wanted to come home.”

Angelique didn’t say a word, instead, she laid her head back against his shoulder, accepting the strength he offered. She didn’t know what to say. How do you explain feelings toward someone you barely knew and yet deeply loved?

“I wish I understood why he left,” she whispered a few moments later. Her tone was filled with unshed tears as she closed her eyes against the miserable doubt that burned in her heart.

“It was because of your mother,” Ian answered gently, his lips brushing her neck with a searing heat that seemed to warm her lonely soul.

“What has my mother got to do with this?” she asked with a frown, turning in his arms to stare at the crystal blue eyes that sparkled from the light of the open window.

“What do you know of your mother’s death?” he asked, leading her to a divan that sat in the middle of the room.

“I know she killed herself, but nobody would ever speak of it.”

“Your father told me what happened, and how his guilt drove him away from Westerly.”

“What guilt?” Angelique asked with a frown.

Ian drew a deep breath. He wasn’t sure if he should tell her what had happened to her mother. He hadn’t planned to tell her anything at all, but the subject seemed to filter into their conversation without his ability to prevent it.

“Your father blamed himself for her death,” he continued a moment later. “Your mother killed herself out of shame for a serious…indiscretion.”

“What indiscretion?” Angelique’s heart skipped a beat as she considered what it was he was hinting at. “Are you telling me, my mother was unfaithful to my father?”

Ian stared at her lovely violet eyes for a long moment before he nodded to her silently. Angelique’s eyes widened with a mixture of horror and disbelief. She turned back to the window. Ian knew she wouldn’t accept the truth blindly, but she was a very intelligent woman, and in time she would understand and perhaps, even forgive both of her parents for the life they’d left her with.

“Are you alright?” Ian asked, stepping behind her once again, this time keeping his distance from her. He could feel her anger radiating from her slender frame and he wasn’t looking forward to confronting it.

“Wonderful,” she snapped. “What woman doesn’t like learning her mother was an adulterer, or that her father was to blame for her infidelity? Hell, I think it’s a perfect excuse to start a whorehouse. Maybe we should have one in every region on the island.”

“It wasn’t easy for your father to tell me,” Ian told her in a calm tone. “He was depressed from the years of blame he had lived with.”

“Then why didn’t he ever confront his guilt? Why didn’t he come home and face up to his responsibilities? If she did kill herself because of her shame, then he did far worse by abandoning his daughter and country.”

“He knew that,” Ian told her when she turned to face him. “He was embarrassed with his choices and ashamed that he allowed his confusion and grief to embed his actions the way they had.”

“He had a hell of a way of showing it,” she snapped.

“Quit acting like a spoiled child,” Ian growled. “Just because your parents chose a strange way of dealing with their humiliation, it doesn’t give you a right to judge them. You weren’t in their shoes. You have no idea how difficult it must have been for either of them to face their disgrace.”

Angelique stood in front of him for a few moments trying to regain her composure. She knew he was right. She couldn’t judge her parents’ actions by those of her personal morals. She couldn’t begin to understand why they chose the paths they did, but she needed time to adjust to the knowledge of their guilt.

“You’re right,” she conceded in a hushed tone. “I can’t judge them, but I can’t condone their actions either.”

“Nobody’s asking you to. I wouldn’t have told you, but you had a right to know. The only thing you can do now is acknowledge their mistakes, and move past them.”

“I just wish I would have known them,” she said as she turned back to the window.

Ian didn’t say anything as he stood behind her, waiting for her next words. He knew she needed time to adjust, and he wanted to help, but he didn’t know how. Perhaps in time, she’d be able to remember her parents’ legacy with love, but until then, she would have to accept their faults.