While he certainly considered himself well versed in certain aspects of dealing with women, their emotional states were as much a mystery to Charles Vane as nearly every other man he knew. Of course, his upbringing and history helped not one whit in those efforts, but he'd gleaned enough to know that there were times when things couldn't be helped, and had to be left to work at their own speed.

As such, he gave Anne what support she seemed to want in the aftermath of her abduction, and asked for nothing more. Though it was true he'd grown accustomed to having leave to fuck her as he pleased, it wasn't as though a man who spent much of his life at sea would be stranger to dry spells.

It didn't make him miss the feel of her, but he was not the kind of man to demand, not in these circumstances.

When he felt himself being coaxed out of slumber by the sultry whisper of Anne's voice and the by-now familiar sensation of her touch below his belt, Vane's smirk appeared before his eyes were fully open. He cracked them and glanced at the stunning woman in red hovering beside him.

"Do I wake to an angel... or a temptress?"