As the final British officer’s body sank beneath the waves, aided by the tugs of blood-frantic sharks, Elena gave a short cry of horror and buried her face into the flat, chiseled, shirtless chest of Leonard the Rogue.

Strong arms drawing her in closer, she gave another muffled sob that the naive captain misconstrued as further emotional distress when, in fact, Elena had found her burial process met against quite a shallow grave and his embrace only served to further smoosh her nose against his manliness.

“It’s all right, madam,” Leonard said, stroking her long, brown tresses. “I doubt they will ever come after you again. And if they do, I shall righteously stuff Davy Jones’ Locker until it can be stuffed no more!”

Elena pried her upper half away from her savior’s, affording him a brief glance of her chest, heaving beneath her simple wench’s outfit like two round loaves of bread stuck in a time loop of rising and falling beneath a cloth. He glanced long enough only confirm this heaving before drawing his gaze back to her deep, shimmering eyes, as women tend to prefer this type of focus.

“Thank you,” Elena said, the previous tense, action-packed moments that would have been highlighted in a different kind of story suddenly catching up with her as she quivered in Leonard’s firm yet honorable grasp. “You didn’t have to — you risked so much for me, but don’t even know who I am.”

“I do not need to know,” Leonard said. “I am satisfied only to be aware that, after years of seeking ports and captured ships, before me is the grandest, most beautiful booty I have ever set my eyes upon.”

Elena’s full lower lip dropped, but only silence filled the void as she stared into the strong, engulfing visage of the man before him.

“Oh…” she breathed, voice finally found within the moment. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Leonard trailed off with a smile, before suddenly blinking. “Wait, what?”

“When you said ‘booty,’” Elena said. “It has different meanings. It’s treasure, of course, but it can also be… you know…”

“Oh, no, no! I meant it as the first. A treasure! The best… the best thing—“

“My rump…”

“Right. Not that. Treasure.”

“Treasure.”

“Yes. Maybe not the best word…”

“That’s OK. I understand now.”

“Right.”

“…What a lovely sunset.”

“Oh, yes. It is.”

And as fate drew these two strangers into each other’s arms, it also brought the sun down upon their love.

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