Owned by the Ocean

Owned by the Ocean

By

Christine Steendam

5 Prince
Publishing, Denver, Colorado

This is a
fictional work. The names, characters, incidents, places, and
locations are solely the concepts and products of the author’s
imagination or are used to create a fictitious story and should not
be construed as real.

5 PRINCE
PUBLISHING AND BOOKS, LLC

PO Box
16507

Denver, CO
80216

www.5PrinceBooks.com

ISBN 13:978-1-63112-004-6 ISBN:
10: 1-631120-04-2

Owned by the Ocean

Christine Steendam

Copyright Christine Steendam
2014

Published by 5 Prince Publishing
Smashwords Edition

Photo Credit:
Viola Estrella

Author Photo:
Melanie Reimer
Photography

All rights
reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any
manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of
brief quotations, reviews, and articles. For any other permission
please contact 5 Prince Publishing and Books, LLC.

First
Edition/First Printing January 2014 Printed U.S.A.

5 PRINCE
PUBLISHING AND BOOKS, LLC.

I’m going to keep this short.
Owned
by the Ocean
is a story that I absolutely
love. Brant is a really important character to me and I really
wanted to tell his and Catherine’s story. This is it.

I want to thank
Elissa, Heather, and Andrew for giving me feedback and letting me
bounce ideas off of you. I love how involved you all have become in
the entire Ocean series and how you get just as excited over the
characters as I do.

Thank you to my
parents, your support is invaluable.

Thank you to
the readers that responded with excitement, feedback and
conversation. You all made writing and editing this book such a fun
experience.

Thank you to
everyone at 5 Prince Publishing. You all know who you are. All your
time, effort and support is much appreciated.

Lastly, I want
to thank Kyle. Being married to a writer isn’t always an easy thing
but you always support and encourage me. Thank you.

To Mom.

Owned by the Ocean

England-
1660

Brant looked
up from his scribbler at his teacher who was droning on about
something to do with the politics behind the colonization of the
new world... or was it the precarious peace with Spain? Either way,
he didn’t really care. Time was moving at a snail’s pace. Every
tick of the clock sounded like a hammer hitting an anvil. The boy
two rows down was scratching his head; Brant was pretty sure he had
lice. In front of him another boy was drumming his fingers
incessantly. Every noise and movement was grating and more in focus
than Mr. Johnson’s teaching.

Brant shut out
everything around him and looked down at the open page of his
scribbler. He was supposed to be writing notes but instead the page
was covered with carelessly doodled shapes or words that had
nothing to do with what Mr. Johnson was teaching.

At sixteen, Brant Foxton had no interest in the politics,
grammar, or math that filled each and every day at the school for
young men he attended. All he wanted was to leave the masquerade
called London society and sail. He had expressed this desire many
times over to his father,
Sir
Calvin Foxton, but he would hear nothing of
it.

Calvin Foxton
had served his King faithfully for many years in both the army and
then as a member of his council. He had been knighted when Brant
was but five years old, a moment in history that he could remember
being filled with excitement and honor for his father. Too bad it
didn’t take long for Brant to realize that he was treated more like
a soldier than a son.

This past
year, after many attempts at convincing his father to allow him to
attend the royal naval academy, Brant had been sent to a
prestigious boarding school in the heart of London where he was to
be polished and educated for service to the crown as the gentleman
his family name required. There would be no sails, sword or pistols
in Brant's future. Instead it held paper work, money and bowing and
scraping before the King. That was the life of nobility in England
and that was to be the life of Brant Foxton. That was his father's
plan.

Brant stopped
his doodling and looked around. Some of the boys were asleep,
others intently taking notes and listening to the teacher. Most of
the boys at this school were everything their parents expected them
to be. The picture of young men of society, they walked and talked
exactly as they were instructed, turned their noses up at those
less fortunate than them, and flaunted money—that many didn’t have
but their name allowed them to pretend—like it was their job. They
were raised to outwardly respect someone like Brant due to his
family's status but many whispered behind his back or snickered
over their afternoon tea. Brant was an anomaly, someone who didn’t
care about prestige, money, and would very willingly throw it all
away for a chance at a different future.

Brant was not
an overly kind boy, nor humble. He hated his father and family
name, he hated the school and the teachers, he hated the boys who
hid behind masks their parents had forced on them, and most of all
he hated that he was considered to be among them. He was better
than this and he knew it. He was better than the acting and the
back stabbing that he saw among the boys.

London was
full of hypocrites. Brant may be blatantly cavalier and didn’t give
a damn, but the boys he went to school with participated in the
same activities, just behind well-kept facades. No one but
themselves and perhaps their closest friends knew about the things
they did that their family would disapprove of. But they all did
them. Brant had seen the older boys get drunk and steal things from
the younger ones. He had seen, and been a victim of their bullying
behind closed doors. But they all hid it from the outside world,
from prying eyes. To the public, to the teachers, they were
everything young gentlemen should be. Everyone but Brant
Foxton.

The class was
dismissed and Brant left the room in a shuffle of feet and a murmur
of voices. Politics had been the last class of the day and they now
had the evening for free time until dinner was called. Brant went
up to his room that he shared with two other boys and, lying on his
bed, pulled out a military strategy book he had taken from the
library. There was no military strategy class offered since the
boys that went here didn't need to know about battle formations and
military hierarchy. But, the library carried books on the subject
and Brant spent his free time educating himself on everything he
would need to know to join the navy. He hoped that with the
knowledge he gained from reading he would be able to make his way
through the ranks quickly and become an officer in short order. Of
course his father would not even consider forgiving him until he
made captain, then perhaps he would think Brant was upholding the
family name in an honorable fashion. But, until he was prepared, he
would remain in school and learn what he could, then take his leave
and endure his father's disapproval.

Things had
changed when Brant's mother passed away six years earlier. Calvin
had become hard on his son, without his gentle wife to keep him in
line. Brant's brother; James, who was now six, was mostly taken
care of by a nurse and the maids. Calvin Foxton didn't have much
time for his youngest son, not when he was reminded of his wife,
who had died giving birth to him, every time he saw him. Brant
guessed that his mother was the only person Calvin Foxton had ever
been gentle with. He had been young when his mother passed, only
ten, but from what he remembered she was a kind woman, and had
truly loved her husband, which was not something he saw often among
other couples.

It had been an
arranged marriage, as many of them were, and Suzanne had been ten
years Calvin's junior. However, they had fallen in love during
their years together, and Brant was certain his father would have
given Suzanne Foxton anything she wanted. If she gave him even a
disapproving look when Calvin adopted his military background with
his son he would immediately melt and become a loving and kind
father. That had disappeared when Suzanne passed away. Suddenly
there was only military discipline and his father was detached from
him in every way. No longer did Brant have loving parents but
instead he had a commander and he was nothing more than a
delinquent soldier. It had been a drastic change that had
embittered Brant towards his father. He was convinced that if his
mother was alive he would have been allowed to join the Royal Navy.
She had always wanted what was best for Brant and what would make
him happy in the long run. Calvin would have nothing to do with
that now. The military was not the place for his son, especially
the sea. There was nothing glamorous about being an officer,
captain, or commodore. They were respected if they served the King
well and had some kind of military genius that brought them to his
attention but otherwise they were just another civil servant making
low pay and risking their lives for honor that Brant shouldn't have
to earn any longer. He was born with it.

Leo, one of
his roommates walked in, took one look at Brant and laughed. “All
you ever do is study those useless books. That won't help you at
all with your marks here.”

“
I don't really care about my marks here.”

“
You should. Your father is going to beat you if you
fail.”

Brant laughed.
“He can try. I'm getting a bit old for him to slap around.”

Leo was two
years Brant's senior and had two years left in the school. He was
looking to take over his father's business in Jamaica where he
owned a sugar cane plantation.

Out of all the
boys in school, Leo was probably the only one Brant considered a
friend. In society Leo was what every young man should be, but in
his circle of friends he was better known as a womanizer and a
gambler. When his father sent him money, Leo made his way to a
local brothel where he spent time with Claire, a pretty little
blonde that had been used one too many times and had a sad look
behind her eyes. He was kind to her though, and when he went out
with the guys he would invite her along. Although her company was
paid for, she was accepted among them as a friend. One couldn’t
help the circumstances life had dealt them.

When the money
didn't come Leo would pull out his charm and woo a pretty second or
third class girl that dreamed of a man like Leo coming along and
marrying her, turning her into a real lady. It was never going to
happen though. And every time, it was the same, hopeful laughter
turning into disappointed tears. It bothered Brant that Leo could
be so self-absorbed, yet he considered himself fortunate to be his
friend.

Leo was kind
enough to most of the boys, but he enjoyed putting some of the more
pompous pricks in their place. When Brant had started out his year
Leo had considered Brant just one of those; a pompous prick who
curtailed off his daddy and thought himself better than everyone
else. But, for the most part, Leo was humble and kind. He never
considered other boys inferior, even if society deemed them so, and
always treated everyone with respect. Even outside of society he
seemed to ignore the boundaries and distinction and class and
mingled without prejudice. That was what Brant liked about Leo. And
for that, he overlooked his friend’s less than upstanding
behavior.

Leo and Brant
were not so fortunate as to have the third boy who shared their
room follow their life philosophies. Robert was a second year
student, right between Brant and Leo. He was self-important and had
delusions of grandeur. His family was on the verge of losing
everything, and everyone knew it. Yet, they held onto their
expensive taste, threw just as many dinner parties as before, and
turned up their noses at anyone they considered beneath them. They
sent Robert to school on their good name and credit, but he
strutted the halls as if his father was the King himself and
treated the younger boys with such disdain that you would have
thought them his servants. He never said a word to Brant or Leo
after he discovered they had no interest in playing along. Instead,
they took every opportunity to take him down a notch. A biting
comment or a prank usually managed to put him in his place for a
short time.