: This is just a little adventure I wanted to try. all credit goes to the L.A Meyer, whos given us so much adventure and excitment through this spirited lass. The first chapter is very strickly based on the ending of The Mark of the Dragon Tattoo, it is not of my own creation. I hope you enjoy it!


Early Spring 1809

London, England

I sit, the Faber bottom warming a fine leather chair, in the presence once more of the First Lord of the Admiralty and his steward Mr. Peel and I wait. I listen to them drone on and on about recent events that have included either myself or my known associates but I'm only thinking' of Jaimy and the narrow escape we've given him from the noose. My beloved Jaimy. I hope he's safe with Charlie. I hope he's halfway across the world by now. But then Mr. Peel clears his throat and brings me back to the present.

"Alright." Peel says, straightening his jacket. "We will accept your request for the pardon of one Mr. James Fletcher, and the overturn of your own life sentence… under the following condition."

I sit up straight and wait. Mr. Peel told me before there would be some conditions, but we've got to play it out all formal like before the First Lord, he''s no idea Peel has been in this with me from the start. After all, I got him his job back for this.

"You will continue as an agent of Navel Intelligence." Peel says ominously. He then continues to explain my mission to Portugal with Lord Wellesley's army as an interpreter but I don't pay much attention. All I'm thinking about it a life for a life.

"Very well." I tell them both. "I agree, may I go now?"

"Yes, you may." Peel tells me, handing me a letter. My orders no doubt. "Prepare yourself. You leave in two days."

I nod and take the letter from his hand, bow to both he and the First Lord then leave the office to find Captain Richard Allen in the hallway, leaning against the wall, waiting. He stands up straight seeing me, and I go over and lay my hand on his red-coated arm.

"To Portugal Princess?" He asks, taking my hand and smiling that roguish smile of his. He already knows.

"Yes, my lord, to Portugal." I say, and softly sing as we walk off toward whatever awaits us…