Harry & the Pirate
Chapter 27 "Deleted Scenes"
Charmed
Set after Chapter 7, and written for a drabble challenge at blackpearlsails, prompt: 'Charming'.
Henrietta Lady Fanshawe, nee Swann, Dowager Duchess of Wyndham.
Jack found himself smiling in the dark of the tiny cabin, Will's snores from the upper berth a minor distraction. Jack didn't blame the lad for dropping off immediately. He would have done so himself in these rolling seas, the sway and creak of the Pearl soothing as a lullaby, if not for the delightful and surprising memory…
… of Elizabeth's aunt. Governor Swann's sister, forsooth!
Swann's mother must surely have played her lord false - or one must concede the existence of changelings. Lady Fanshawe was as unlike the old gov as could be imagined. A dainty piece, regal when it suited, dimpling with suppressed laughter when it didn't. Brave, recklessly defiant, elegant, optimistic, amusingly hot-at-hand. And pretty as a flower in May, with lips made to be kissed.
Now tucked into bed - his bed - in the Great Cabin.
Jack's thoughts turned to beds. And kissing. He found himself unusually stirred.
Unusually. Inconveniently. Rather disconcertingly. But indisputably.
Cheeky lass.
Well, two could play at that game. And really, it was only good manners to see to his guest's entertainment. To ensure that Elizabeth's aunt - darling Harry Fanshawe - was thoroughly, completely charmed.
~.~
Threats and Promises
A rewrite of part of the last chapter, written from Harry's POV
“Oh, dear,” Harry muttered, watching Owens scramble monkey-like up the Pearl’s unsteady Jacob’s Ladder.
Elizabeth and Will had already climbed aboard, and her niece now peered down over the railing at her and called, “Come on, Aunt Harry! You know you can do it!”
“Aye,” said Jack, from where he sat beside her. “You’ve no skirt to tuck up this time, and it’ll be dead easy compared to your debarkation.”
Harry turned to him, grimacing slightly at the laughter that lurked in his eyes. “But I had my fury with your highhanded behavior to sustain me, then. And I lost my grip on the sheets and fell when I was halfway down. You would have been excessively amused.”
He chuckled. “And they didn’t hear you screech? Gibbs must be bloody deaf.”
Harry tilted her chin at him. “I did not ‘screech’! There was no more than a slight splash.”
“Ah! Commendable restraint. Up you get, then. Pretend you’re still angry with me.”
Harry sighed. “Does this mean you’re not going to offer to carry me, as you did before?”
“Aye, it does. I’m lookin’ forward to the view again. I think I mentioned that those breeches don’t leave much to the imagination.”
Her lips quivered. “Lecherous knave!” He inclined his head, acknowledging the justice of this, and she had to kiss him. Then she stood up. “All right!” she said, more to herself than to him. She took a deep breath, and faced the ladder once more.
He spoke as she took hold of the ropes. “One foot in front of the other, and don’t look down, or up. I’ll be right behind you.”
“I know, I know,” she said over her shoulder. “Admiring the view.”
“Precisely.”
It wasn’t all easy. Her foot didn’t slip this time, thank God, but her heart and her sore head were thudding uncomfortably before she reached the top and was caught and lifted to safety by Will and Gibbs. Elizabeth and Owens, and a few others actually clapped and cheered, and Jack, gaining the deck behind her, turned her about and gave her another quick kiss and a squeeze.
“That’s my girl! Pluck to the backbone.”
She laughed shakily at this generous assessment.
Jack said to Elizabeth and Will, “Take care of her for a bit for me, while I see us off.”
Harry was thankful for the bright, silvery moonlight that masked her blush at the possible implications of this.
It was a cloudless night, and the folk left on the beach below Island House were clearly visible, watching and waving as the Black Pearl’s crew manned their stations in the effort to make way. A cheerful shanty sprang up as they turned the capstan to raise the anchor; others swarmed up the ratlines and out onto the footropes below the yards, working to set the sails of the great ship, according to her captain’s orders.
Harry stood at the rail, flanked by Will and Elizabeth, her heart calming somewhat. She was still sad to be leaving St. Claire so soon, though she understood Jack’s stated reasons. Cray’s thugs would be a danger to her people until they were removed from the island, but Jack would not transport the villains to the slave markets of Port au Prince until she and Elizabeth were safely off the Black Pearl and delivered into Weatherby’s care.
And then, she suspected, there were Jack’s unstated reasons…
Presently, the ship gave a delicious shiver, and Elizabeth exclaimed, “We’re moving!” Eyes bright with happiness, the girl reached across for Will’s hand. Harry slipped from between them, so that they could stand together. Elizabeth frowned at her in sudden concern. “Are you certain you are all right?”
“I am perfectly well, I assure you!” It was the truth, save for her headache, which doubtless had its origin from her encounter with the hilt of Cray’s sword. She would be better for… for a good night’s sleep.
There was a steady breeze polishing the moon and stars, and the Black Pearl picked up speed quite quickly as she headed out of the South Bay. As they completed their tasks, many of the crew gathered by the rail to wave goodbye to their new island friends. Gibbs, coming to stand near Harry, said, “Don’t you worry, ma’am. Anamaria and that Judah, and your good housekeeper, Rachel, will keep all in order ‘til you return.”
Harry nodded. “Yes. I know they will do their best. There is so much work to be done, and so much needed. Cray left things in a sad state, I’m afraid, though his despicable cruelties cast those concerns into the shade while he lived.”
“He’s gone now, and good riddance. Jack did a fine job takin’ care o’ that this morning.”
Harry nodded, remembering the terrors and thrills the dawn had brought them. It seemed strange to realize how few hours had passed since that time. Looking up at the night sky, she said a silent prayer of thanks.
In a surprisingly short time they were approaching the point… and then they were rounding it, and Island House and her people were lost to sight as the Black Pearl entered the deeper water of the open sea.
Shortly thereafter, Jack called to Cotton and Parrot, and Harry turned to watch as Cotton mounted the steps to the quarterdeck, his brightly colored friend giving a squawk of joy to be underway once more. They took the helm from their captain, and then Jack was trotting down the steps, and Harry felt a little frisson of anticipation run though her.
He was watching her as he approached, and she could feel her cheeks burning. She turned to gaze at the sea again.
But her choice had been made, many hours… maybe even days before, and when he came and slipped his arm about her, it felt so completely right that she instinctively leaned into his light embrace.
“Ah, thank God for the open sea!” he said, breathing deep.
Harry smiled, again, and dared to look up at him in spite of blushes. She found, however, that his eyes were not on the ‘open sea’ but on her, and they held a distinctly predatory gleam.
Her smile slipped, and she suddenly swallowed, hard.
“Gibbs,” Jack said. “You have the command. Lady Fanshawe and I have some… ah… unfinished business to take care of in my cabin. And don’t disturb us unless I call, savvy?”
As he’d spoken, he’d caught her hand in a firm grasp, and she now found herself inexorably drawn away from the others and towed across the deck to the companionway doors. Feeling oddly breathless, she could not seem to find her voice. Reaching the steps, Jack placed a booted foot on the first one, bethought himself of something, stopped and turned. He pinned her with his gaze, and with his words, too, though he addressed others.
“Oh, and Will, Gibbs? Hide all the knives, will you please?”
Harry’s eyes widened, and she gave a little gasp of combined startlement and, yes, sudden fear as he pulled her, stumbling after him, down the steps. Snatches of past brangling and banter came horridly to mind…
…And let me tell you, if you ever lay violent hands on me again I won’t rest ‘til I’ve put a knife between your ribs!… If you don’t end up across my knee being given what-for before the end of this voyage I, for one, will be truly amazed! … Have to admit it’s a great temptation, seein’ the way your sweet little arse looks in those breeches. All in good time though. It’ll sustain me spirits, having something to look forward to when we get back to the Pearl.
Her voice returned as they traversed the passage, and she protested, “But… Jack! Jack… wait! Jack!”
He paid no heed, merely hustling her into the warmth of the Great Cabin and slamming the door on the rest of the world.
She jerked her hand from his and turned to face him, setting her teeth and fists as he tossed his hat aside and stepped near, looming over her.
“What?” he said, silkily. Her breath caught as his hands slipped about her waist.
She did her best to look severe, and was pleased that her voice shook only a little as she said, “You shall not thrash me!”
He raised a supercilious brow. “No? And why’s that, love?”
She could see that he was trying not to smile, and he was so close she could feel the warmth of his skin, and smell him, too, his own comfortable scent that had been in her nostrils all the previous night as he had cradled her against him in the storeroom, but fainter and overlaid now with the scent of soap from the bath Rachel had drawn them that afternoon. She could not help wanting to touch him, and ran her hands up his chest, tugging at his coat. As he obligingly pulled her close to kiss her, she replied, “Because… it would kill the mood, entirely!”
“Not for me,” he smirked, and then his lips were on hers and he was pulling her tight against him. One hand splayed against her back, but the other slid down to the portion of her anatomy in question, caressing suggestively, and pressing her close.
She broke the kiss and gasped, laughing. “Oh, you are dreadful!”
“Am I?”
“Yes!” She kissed him again.
They were lost in each other for long moments, until the Pearl gave a sudden dip, tilting them off balance.
“She’s trying to tell us something,” Jack murmured.
“So it seems.”
“The bed?”
“Mmm.” She smiled, and then gave a shriek of laughter as he virtually snatched her up, with a gleefully sinister grin.
But then, when he had laid her down, and she was pulling at him in her eagerness, longing for his weight upon her, he hesitated, his hands tangling in her hair, restless thumbs stroking her temples, and his expression grew unwontedly sober.
“Are you sure about this?”
Her heart grew so full at this seemingly unpiratical consideration that she could barely speak. She let go of his coat and her hands slipped up to catch his beautiful face between them. She said, unsteadily, but most seriously, “I have rarely been more certain of anything in my life.”
“Oh, my God,” he muttered, and kissed her. She gave an involuntary sound of sheer pleasure, and responded with appropriate enthusiasm. He seemed to find this most gratifying. When they finally paused for breath he drew back slightly and looked at her in wonder. “Are you sure you’re Swann’s sister?”
She laughed. “Yes - although I must admit he often accused me of being a changeling.”
“One o’ the Fair Folk, eh?” He kissed her again, more gently, and added, “Could be he was right.”
Oddly, this remark brought forth another, less easy memory.
He noticed the subtle change, immediately. “What is it?”
Nothing! nearly escaped her lips, but she caught herself. She cleared her throat, and could not quite meet his eyes as she said, “I… I have told you a little of my past. I am quite determined it shall not spoil the present. But…”
“But…?”
“Well, there may be things - perhaps a great deal - that you will have to teach me.” Uncharacteristically shy, she looked up again, and once more felt a hot blush suffuse her cheeks.
He was trying not to smirk, but the dark eyes gleamed. “That right?”
“Yes.” Her gaze fell again, but she shivered with happiness as his lips met her burning cheek. She turned her face against the cool pillow, closing her eyes with a sigh of delight.
“I daresay we’ll manage,” he murmured, lips moving across her cheek to her ear.
A little gasp escaped her, as his teeth caught the lobe with a tiny bite, just short of pain, and then soothed the flesh with his tongue.
“Oh!” she breathed.
“Mmmm,” he agreed, and whispered his first lesson into her ear: “Trust me.”
~.~
To Build A Fire
With apologies to viva_gloria for swiping borrowing her Single Sentence structure, and to Jack London for the title
That first morning, they woke late: understandable, considering the exhausting nature and duration of their activities the previous night, that First Night, but actually due more to the weather, the soft gray light peeping in where the heavy velvet drapes had not been quite drawn closed, and the steady patter of raindrops, faint and rhythmic against the windows and, fainter still, beyond the paneled ceiling above, on the Pearl's deck, shining wetly black, or so Jack said it would, for they didn't leave the confines of the cabin that day, or even the bed all that morning, except when he opened the door a crack and summoned Gibbs, and replied, "Breakfast! Tell cook to leave a tray by the door, aye? And lunch, and dinner, later," to his First's sly inquiry ("Was there somethin' ye'd be needin', Captain?"), then, after a peremptory word of thanks, reset the bolt, and rushed back to the warmth of their bed, where, gently rocked by his Dark Lady, they carefully nurtured their own banked fire, slowly rebuilding the flames of it to sweet, insulating, consuming heat that, at the last, quite effectively banished cold, and thought, and all the many exigencies of the world.
~.~
I'll Show You Mine
The light was fading to gold in the cabin by the time he'd finished his stories.
"So that's the last of 'em. The ones I've evidence of, at least."
Harry shook her head in wonder and leaned back against the banked pillows. "You're like some fabulous storybook-with pictures!"
Jack gave a snort of laughter and sat down on the bed at her feet. "Not so pretty as you, am I?"
She held out her arms and, as he crawled up and into them, murmured, "Don't be absurd."
After a while she said, in a voice meant to impress, "I've a scar, too, you know."
"Do you?" Interested, he moved off her again, looking but finding nothing that marred her beauty.
"It's here!" she said, drawing up one leg and pointing to a thin, silvery line just below her knee. "I fell and cut it when I was eight. They had to sew it up, too. Five stitches!"
"Five!" Jack pretended to be impressed, his eyes twinkling.
"Yes. I was very brave."
The eyes rolled now. "I'll wager you squealed like a stuck pig."
"Not at all!" She fought down a smile at his skeptical look, and tilted her chin up. "We Swanns would never lower ourselves to squeal like pigs."
"Oh? Like a banshee, perhaps."
She chuckled. "Perhaps. I must admit, it was one of the few times I was supremely thankful for Weatherby's interference. He finally made the doctor give me laudanum, which the man had said I was too young to take, and then stayed with me for hours in fear I would slip away. But, happily, I did not, as you see."
"Happily, indeed," Jack agreed, amused, and kissed the knee before moving on in a gratifyingly leisurely manner to more interesting locales.
~.~
Second Night
“Come on!”
Jack opened the door of his cabin with careful stealth, wincing at the slight creak. Harry slipped past him into the passage, dressed in his shirt, the tails of which hung past her knees, and a Spanish shawl. Lord, what lovely legs...and her feet! Bare, and kissably perfect...no, wait. Hadn’t they decided to take a break from...that? That. He sighed inwardly. Think of something else. The ship. The Pearl. That’s it. Show her what it feels like to hold the wheel, man the helm, steer the ship. Yes. Nearly on a level with...that. Really. Well, not really, but all the same...
He shut the door, closing the glow of the lantern behind it. Went past her-kissed her, quickly, bumping noses with her in the faint light-up the passage to the steps, barefoot himself, wearing only his breeches: companion to the shirt she wore. Climbed the steps and peeked out warily. It was between three and four in the morning, as close as he could tell, and likely only the helmsman and maybe the watch at the bow on deck. The wind had been gentle but steady out of the southeast for hours, the sea smooth with slight swells. Perfect for sleeping. And other things.
Sure enough, there was Cotton, gnarled hands on the wheel as they often were in the small hours, his blue and gold macaw settled on his shoulder. Jack turned. Harry was below him, looking up at him expectantly. Irresistibly. He went back down the steps and drew her close, and kissed her again. Her hands moved over his bare back, feather light, then down, one slipping under the edge of his breeches. He moved his mouth over to her ear and whispered, “Stop that, or we’ll have to go back inside.”
Her hand stilled, and she looked up at him, her eyes laughing. “Stop?” she said softly, dramatically disappointed.
“Aye, you rogue. Come on!”
She smirked at him and he grinned crookedly, took her hand and pulled her up the steps behind him.
They emerged quietly onto the deck. The air was soft and warm even with the breeze, and the stars were bright in the black velvet of the sky, the moon having set early. For a long moment they both paused, each of them lost in the sounds and scents of the sea and the Black Pearl. Jack thought there was no place more perfect in this world than where they were now, and looking at her he saw that Harry felt the same: her lips parted, her eyes gazing in awe at the beauty of the night. He drew her close and kissed her again, and the taste and feel of her was sweet as starlight...
Jack drew back a little finally, and looked at her, his heart thudding. She was similarly effected, a more serious look in her eyes and on her lips. Her brow creased, and she reached up and laid her hand against the side of his face, a still caress. Then she took a deep breath, and smiled. “Show me, then.”
Show her. For a moment he couldn’t remember what. A dawn so beautiful it brought tears to your eyes? The wonders of the world? The magic and mystery that was the sea?
His heart?
“The helm...remember?” she supplied, then swiftly kissed him, whispered, “I love you,” caught his hand and pulled him out of the shadows.
He recovered somewhat as they made their way to the helm, enough to clear his throat and look down his nose at the interested Cotton. “We’ll spell ye for a bit, aye?”
Cotton nodded, his eyes crinkling as he took in their state of undress with frank enjoyment. The parrot said nothing for once, but turned his head nearly upside down, staring. Harry stifled a giggle.
Grinning like a fool, Jack took hold of the wheel and pulled his ladylove to stand in front of him as Cotton departed. “Take hold of it,” he directed her. Seeing her slender, pale pink fingers close around the spokes, he moved her silken hair out of the way and kissed the soft skin behind her ear, breathing in her scent. “God but you do that well,” he murmured.
She leaned into the kiss and replied in the same lascivious tone, “I’ve had a great deal of practice recently.”
He chuckled.
His hands wrapped lightly over her smaller ones and he settled himself close behind her. “Can you feel it? The Pearl, I mean,” he added with mock severity when she provocatively wriggled back against him.
“Oh.” She stilled, thankfully, and then fell quiet. After a while, she said, “Yes. She’s...she’s like a live thing!”
“She is alive,” he asserted.
They didn’t speak much after that, both of them inexorably drawn into and brought under the Pearl’s spell as she carried them onward, through sea and night sky, shoulders brushed by stars, feet and legs absorbing the language of wave and wind, hands and arms hearing words that were perfectly intelligible for all their silence, coaxing, demanding their response. The slight adjustments to the wheel were as natural as breathing to Jack, and Harry learned quickly, her movements soon matching his as though by instinct.
He finally said a few words: “She likes you.”
“Yes.”
A long silence again, the silence of harmony. Jack’s mind wondered at it, at the newness of it, the unexpectedness...but what had Bill said? When it’s right, you’ll know it. He’d laughed, and teased, and Bill had smiled and shook his head. You’ll learn, if you’re lucky.
Apparently, he was.
Not treasure precisely, as he’d suggested to Will all those months ago. More like discovering a part of himself he hadn’t known was missing.
She slipped her hands from under his and turned within the span of his arms to face him, caught there, between the Pearl’s wheel and his body, her expression a reflection of his own. Her breath caught, same as his. He kept hold of the wheel with one hand, but his other arm went ‘round her shoulders to draw her close as she twined hers about his neck to kiss him. Starlight, and silk; drowning and taking joy in it.
He sensed Cotton’s hand on the wheel again, and they both looked up, startled. The old man smiled at them, his parrot fluffing up contentedly. Jack nodded, briefly, and gave over the helm. Then he bent, and scooped Harry up, light and clinging, his whispered name on her lips. Time to lose himself in her again, he thought as he carried her back across the deck.
Or maybe find himself.
~.~
On to Chapter One of Swann's Revenge
Charmed
Set after Chapter 7, and written for a drabble challenge at blackpearlsails, prompt: 'Charming'.
Henrietta Lady Fanshawe, nee Swann, Dowager Duchess of Wyndham.
Jack found himself smiling in the dark of the tiny cabin, Will's snores from the upper berth a minor distraction. Jack didn't blame the lad for dropping off immediately. He would have done so himself in these rolling seas, the sway and creak of the Pearl soothing as a lullaby, if not for the delightful and surprising memory…
… of Elizabeth's aunt. Governor Swann's sister, forsooth!
Swann's mother must surely have played her lord false - or one must concede the existence of changelings. Lady Fanshawe was as unlike the old gov as could be imagined. A dainty piece, regal when it suited, dimpling with suppressed laughter when it didn't. Brave, recklessly defiant, elegant, optimistic, amusingly hot-at-hand. And pretty as a flower in May, with lips made to be kissed.
Now tucked into bed - his bed - in the Great Cabin.
Jack's thoughts turned to beds. And kissing. He found himself unusually stirred.
Unusually. Inconveniently. Rather disconcertingly. But indisputably.
Cheeky lass.
Well, two could play at that game. And really, it was only good manners to see to his guest's entertainment. To ensure that Elizabeth's aunt - darling Harry Fanshawe - was thoroughly, completely charmed.
~.~
Threats and Promises
A rewrite of part of the last chapter, written from Harry's POV
“Oh, dear,” Harry muttered, watching Owens scramble monkey-like up the Pearl’s unsteady Jacob’s Ladder.
Elizabeth and Will had already climbed aboard, and her niece now peered down over the railing at her and called, “Come on, Aunt Harry! You know you can do it!”
“Aye,” said Jack, from where he sat beside her. “You’ve no skirt to tuck up this time, and it’ll be dead easy compared to your debarkation.”
Harry turned to him, grimacing slightly at the laughter that lurked in his eyes. “But I had my fury with your highhanded behavior to sustain me, then. And I lost my grip on the sheets and fell when I was halfway down. You would have been excessively amused.”
He chuckled. “And they didn’t hear you screech? Gibbs must be bloody deaf.”
Harry tilted her chin at him. “I did not ‘screech’! There was no more than a slight splash.”
“Ah! Commendable restraint. Up you get, then. Pretend you’re still angry with me.”
Harry sighed. “Does this mean you’re not going to offer to carry me, as you did before?”
“Aye, it does. I’m lookin’ forward to the view again. I think I mentioned that those breeches don’t leave much to the imagination.”
Her lips quivered. “Lecherous knave!” He inclined his head, acknowledging the justice of this, and she had to kiss him. Then she stood up. “All right!” she said, more to herself than to him. She took a deep breath, and faced the ladder once more.
He spoke as she took hold of the ropes. “One foot in front of the other, and don’t look down, or up. I’ll be right behind you.”
“I know, I know,” she said over her shoulder. “Admiring the view.”
“Precisely.”
It wasn’t all easy. Her foot didn’t slip this time, thank God, but her heart and her sore head were thudding uncomfortably before she reached the top and was caught and lifted to safety by Will and Gibbs. Elizabeth and Owens, and a few others actually clapped and cheered, and Jack, gaining the deck behind her, turned her about and gave her another quick kiss and a squeeze.
“That’s my girl! Pluck to the backbone.”
She laughed shakily at this generous assessment.
Jack said to Elizabeth and Will, “Take care of her for a bit for me, while I see us off.”
Harry was thankful for the bright, silvery moonlight that masked her blush at the possible implications of this.
It was a cloudless night, and the folk left on the beach below Island House were clearly visible, watching and waving as the Black Pearl’s crew manned their stations in the effort to make way. A cheerful shanty sprang up as they turned the capstan to raise the anchor; others swarmed up the ratlines and out onto the footropes below the yards, working to set the sails of the great ship, according to her captain’s orders.
Harry stood at the rail, flanked by Will and Elizabeth, her heart calming somewhat. She was still sad to be leaving St. Claire so soon, though she understood Jack’s stated reasons. Cray’s thugs would be a danger to her people until they were removed from the island, but Jack would not transport the villains to the slave markets of Port au Prince until she and Elizabeth were safely off the Black Pearl and delivered into Weatherby’s care.
And then, she suspected, there were Jack’s unstated reasons…
Presently, the ship gave a delicious shiver, and Elizabeth exclaimed, “We’re moving!” Eyes bright with happiness, the girl reached across for Will’s hand. Harry slipped from between them, so that they could stand together. Elizabeth frowned at her in sudden concern. “Are you certain you are all right?”
“I am perfectly well, I assure you!” It was the truth, save for her headache, which doubtless had its origin from her encounter with the hilt of Cray’s sword. She would be better for… for a good night’s sleep.
There was a steady breeze polishing the moon and stars, and the Black Pearl picked up speed quite quickly as she headed out of the South Bay. As they completed their tasks, many of the crew gathered by the rail to wave goodbye to their new island friends. Gibbs, coming to stand near Harry, said, “Don’t you worry, ma’am. Anamaria and that Judah, and your good housekeeper, Rachel, will keep all in order ‘til you return.”
Harry nodded. “Yes. I know they will do their best. There is so much work to be done, and so much needed. Cray left things in a sad state, I’m afraid, though his despicable cruelties cast those concerns into the shade while he lived.”
“He’s gone now, and good riddance. Jack did a fine job takin’ care o’ that this morning.”
Harry nodded, remembering the terrors and thrills the dawn had brought them. It seemed strange to realize how few hours had passed since that time. Looking up at the night sky, she said a silent prayer of thanks.
In a surprisingly short time they were approaching the point… and then they were rounding it, and Island House and her people were lost to sight as the Black Pearl entered the deeper water of the open sea.
Shortly thereafter, Jack called to Cotton and Parrot, and Harry turned to watch as Cotton mounted the steps to the quarterdeck, his brightly colored friend giving a squawk of joy to be underway once more. They took the helm from their captain, and then Jack was trotting down the steps, and Harry felt a little frisson of anticipation run though her.
He was watching her as he approached, and she could feel her cheeks burning. She turned to gaze at the sea again.
But her choice had been made, many hours… maybe even days before, and when he came and slipped his arm about her, it felt so completely right that she instinctively leaned into his light embrace.
“Ah, thank God for the open sea!” he said, breathing deep.
Harry smiled, again, and dared to look up at him in spite of blushes. She found, however, that his eyes were not on the ‘open sea’ but on her, and they held a distinctly predatory gleam.
Her smile slipped, and she suddenly swallowed, hard.
“Gibbs,” Jack said. “You have the command. Lady Fanshawe and I have some… ah… unfinished business to take care of in my cabin. And don’t disturb us unless I call, savvy?”
As he’d spoken, he’d caught her hand in a firm grasp, and she now found herself inexorably drawn away from the others and towed across the deck to the companionway doors. Feeling oddly breathless, she could not seem to find her voice. Reaching the steps, Jack placed a booted foot on the first one, bethought himself of something, stopped and turned. He pinned her with his gaze, and with his words, too, though he addressed others.
“Oh, and Will, Gibbs? Hide all the knives, will you please?”
Harry’s eyes widened, and she gave a little gasp of combined startlement and, yes, sudden fear as he pulled her, stumbling after him, down the steps. Snatches of past brangling and banter came horridly to mind…
…And let me tell you, if you ever lay violent hands on me again I won’t rest ‘til I’ve put a knife between your ribs!… If you don’t end up across my knee being given what-for before the end of this voyage I, for one, will be truly amazed! … Have to admit it’s a great temptation, seein’ the way your sweet little arse looks in those breeches. All in good time though. It’ll sustain me spirits, having something to look forward to when we get back to the Pearl.
Her voice returned as they traversed the passage, and she protested, “But… Jack! Jack… wait! Jack!”
He paid no heed, merely hustling her into the warmth of the Great Cabin and slamming the door on the rest of the world.
She jerked her hand from his and turned to face him, setting her teeth and fists as he tossed his hat aside and stepped near, looming over her.
“What?” he said, silkily. Her breath caught as his hands slipped about her waist.
She did her best to look severe, and was pleased that her voice shook only a little as she said, “You shall not thrash me!”
He raised a supercilious brow. “No? And why’s that, love?”
She could see that he was trying not to smile, and he was so close she could feel the warmth of his skin, and smell him, too, his own comfortable scent that had been in her nostrils all the previous night as he had cradled her against him in the storeroom, but fainter and overlaid now with the scent of soap from the bath Rachel had drawn them that afternoon. She could not help wanting to touch him, and ran her hands up his chest, tugging at his coat. As he obligingly pulled her close to kiss her, she replied, “Because… it would kill the mood, entirely!”
“Not for me,” he smirked, and then his lips were on hers and he was pulling her tight against him. One hand splayed against her back, but the other slid down to the portion of her anatomy in question, caressing suggestively, and pressing her close.
She broke the kiss and gasped, laughing. “Oh, you are dreadful!”
“Am I?”
“Yes!” She kissed him again.
They were lost in each other for long moments, until the Pearl gave a sudden dip, tilting them off balance.
“She’s trying to tell us something,” Jack murmured.
“So it seems.”
“The bed?”
“Mmm.” She smiled, and then gave a shriek of laughter as he virtually snatched her up, with a gleefully sinister grin.
But then, when he had laid her down, and she was pulling at him in her eagerness, longing for his weight upon her, he hesitated, his hands tangling in her hair, restless thumbs stroking her temples, and his expression grew unwontedly sober.
“Are you sure about this?”
Her heart grew so full at this seemingly unpiratical consideration that she could barely speak. She let go of his coat and her hands slipped up to catch his beautiful face between them. She said, unsteadily, but most seriously, “I have rarely been more certain of anything in my life.”
“Oh, my God,” he muttered, and kissed her. She gave an involuntary sound of sheer pleasure, and responded with appropriate enthusiasm. He seemed to find this most gratifying. When they finally paused for breath he drew back slightly and looked at her in wonder. “Are you sure you’re Swann’s sister?”
She laughed. “Yes - although I must admit he often accused me of being a changeling.”
“One o’ the Fair Folk, eh?” He kissed her again, more gently, and added, “Could be he was right.”
Oddly, this remark brought forth another, less easy memory.
He noticed the subtle change, immediately. “What is it?”
Nothing! nearly escaped her lips, but she caught herself. She cleared her throat, and could not quite meet his eyes as she said, “I… I have told you a little of my past. I am quite determined it shall not spoil the present. But…”
“But…?”
“Well, there may be things - perhaps a great deal - that you will have to teach me.” Uncharacteristically shy, she looked up again, and once more felt a hot blush suffuse her cheeks.
He was trying not to smirk, but the dark eyes gleamed. “That right?”
“Yes.” Her gaze fell again, but she shivered with happiness as his lips met her burning cheek. She turned her face against the cool pillow, closing her eyes with a sigh of delight.
“I daresay we’ll manage,” he murmured, lips moving across her cheek to her ear.
A little gasp escaped her, as his teeth caught the lobe with a tiny bite, just short of pain, and then soothed the flesh with his tongue.
“Oh!” she breathed.
“Mmmm,” he agreed, and whispered his first lesson into her ear: “Trust me.”
~.~
To Build A Fire
With apologies to viva_gloria for swiping borrowing her Single Sentence structure, and to Jack London for the title
That first morning, they woke late: understandable, considering the exhausting nature and duration of their activities the previous night, that First Night, but actually due more to the weather, the soft gray light peeping in where the heavy velvet drapes had not been quite drawn closed, and the steady patter of raindrops, faint and rhythmic against the windows and, fainter still, beyond the paneled ceiling above, on the Pearl's deck, shining wetly black, or so Jack said it would, for they didn't leave the confines of the cabin that day, or even the bed all that morning, except when he opened the door a crack and summoned Gibbs, and replied, "Breakfast! Tell cook to leave a tray by the door, aye? And lunch, and dinner, later," to his First's sly inquiry ("Was there somethin' ye'd be needin', Captain?"), then, after a peremptory word of thanks, reset the bolt, and rushed back to the warmth of their bed, where, gently rocked by his Dark Lady, they carefully nurtured their own banked fire, slowly rebuilding the flames of it to sweet, insulating, consuming heat that, at the last, quite effectively banished cold, and thought, and all the many exigencies of the world.
~.~
I'll Show You Mine
The light was fading to gold in the cabin by the time he'd finished his stories.
"So that's the last of 'em. The ones I've evidence of, at least."
Harry shook her head in wonder and leaned back against the banked pillows. "You're like some fabulous storybook-with pictures!"
Jack gave a snort of laughter and sat down on the bed at her feet. "Not so pretty as you, am I?"
She held out her arms and, as he crawled up and into them, murmured, "Don't be absurd."
After a while she said, in a voice meant to impress, "I've a scar, too, you know."
"Do you?" Interested, he moved off her again, looking but finding nothing that marred her beauty.
"It's here!" she said, drawing up one leg and pointing to a thin, silvery line just below her knee. "I fell and cut it when I was eight. They had to sew it up, too. Five stitches!"
"Five!" Jack pretended to be impressed, his eyes twinkling.
"Yes. I was very brave."
The eyes rolled now. "I'll wager you squealed like a stuck pig."
"Not at all!" She fought down a smile at his skeptical look, and tilted her chin up. "We Swanns would never lower ourselves to squeal like pigs."
"Oh? Like a banshee, perhaps."
She chuckled. "Perhaps. I must admit, it was one of the few times I was supremely thankful for Weatherby's interference. He finally made the doctor give me laudanum, which the man had said I was too young to take, and then stayed with me for hours in fear I would slip away. But, happily, I did not, as you see."
"Happily, indeed," Jack agreed, amused, and kissed the knee before moving on in a gratifyingly leisurely manner to more interesting locales.
~.~
Second Night
“Come on!”
Jack opened the door of his cabin with careful stealth, wincing at the slight creak. Harry slipped past him into the passage, dressed in his shirt, the tails of which hung past her knees, and a Spanish shawl. Lord, what lovely legs...and her feet! Bare, and kissably perfect...no, wait. Hadn’t they decided to take a break from...that? That. He sighed inwardly. Think of something else. The ship. The Pearl. That’s it. Show her what it feels like to hold the wheel, man the helm, steer the ship. Yes. Nearly on a level with...that. Really. Well, not really, but all the same...
He shut the door, closing the glow of the lantern behind it. Went past her-kissed her, quickly, bumping noses with her in the faint light-up the passage to the steps, barefoot himself, wearing only his breeches: companion to the shirt she wore. Climbed the steps and peeked out warily. It was between three and four in the morning, as close as he could tell, and likely only the helmsman and maybe the watch at the bow on deck. The wind had been gentle but steady out of the southeast for hours, the sea smooth with slight swells. Perfect for sleeping. And other things.
Sure enough, there was Cotton, gnarled hands on the wheel as they often were in the small hours, his blue and gold macaw settled on his shoulder. Jack turned. Harry was below him, looking up at him expectantly. Irresistibly. He went back down the steps and drew her close, and kissed her again. Her hands moved over his bare back, feather light, then down, one slipping under the edge of his breeches. He moved his mouth over to her ear and whispered, “Stop that, or we’ll have to go back inside.”
Her hand stilled, and she looked up at him, her eyes laughing. “Stop?” she said softly, dramatically disappointed.
“Aye, you rogue. Come on!”
She smirked at him and he grinned crookedly, took her hand and pulled her up the steps behind him.
They emerged quietly onto the deck. The air was soft and warm even with the breeze, and the stars were bright in the black velvet of the sky, the moon having set early. For a long moment they both paused, each of them lost in the sounds and scents of the sea and the Black Pearl. Jack thought there was no place more perfect in this world than where they were now, and looking at her he saw that Harry felt the same: her lips parted, her eyes gazing in awe at the beauty of the night. He drew her close and kissed her again, and the taste and feel of her was sweet as starlight...
Jack drew back a little finally, and looked at her, his heart thudding. She was similarly effected, a more serious look in her eyes and on her lips. Her brow creased, and she reached up and laid her hand against the side of his face, a still caress. Then she took a deep breath, and smiled. “Show me, then.”
Show her. For a moment he couldn’t remember what. A dawn so beautiful it brought tears to your eyes? The wonders of the world? The magic and mystery that was the sea?
His heart?
“The helm...remember?” she supplied, then swiftly kissed him, whispered, “I love you,” caught his hand and pulled him out of the shadows.
He recovered somewhat as they made their way to the helm, enough to clear his throat and look down his nose at the interested Cotton. “We’ll spell ye for a bit, aye?”
Cotton nodded, his eyes crinkling as he took in their state of undress with frank enjoyment. The parrot said nothing for once, but turned his head nearly upside down, staring. Harry stifled a giggle.
Grinning like a fool, Jack took hold of the wheel and pulled his ladylove to stand in front of him as Cotton departed. “Take hold of it,” he directed her. Seeing her slender, pale pink fingers close around the spokes, he moved her silken hair out of the way and kissed the soft skin behind her ear, breathing in her scent. “God but you do that well,” he murmured.
She leaned into the kiss and replied in the same lascivious tone, “I’ve had a great deal of practice recently.”
He chuckled.
His hands wrapped lightly over her smaller ones and he settled himself close behind her. “Can you feel it? The Pearl, I mean,” he added with mock severity when she provocatively wriggled back against him.
“Oh.” She stilled, thankfully, and then fell quiet. After a while, she said, “Yes. She’s...she’s like a live thing!”
“She is alive,” he asserted.
They didn’t speak much after that, both of them inexorably drawn into and brought under the Pearl’s spell as she carried them onward, through sea and night sky, shoulders brushed by stars, feet and legs absorbing the language of wave and wind, hands and arms hearing words that were perfectly intelligible for all their silence, coaxing, demanding their response. The slight adjustments to the wheel were as natural as breathing to Jack, and Harry learned quickly, her movements soon matching his as though by instinct.
He finally said a few words: “She likes you.”
“Yes.”
A long silence again, the silence of harmony. Jack’s mind wondered at it, at the newness of it, the unexpectedness...but what had Bill said? When it’s right, you’ll know it. He’d laughed, and teased, and Bill had smiled and shook his head. You’ll learn, if you’re lucky.
Apparently, he was.
Not treasure precisely, as he’d suggested to Will all those months ago. More like discovering a part of himself he hadn’t known was missing.
She slipped her hands from under his and turned within the span of his arms to face him, caught there, between the Pearl’s wheel and his body, her expression a reflection of his own. Her breath caught, same as his. He kept hold of the wheel with one hand, but his other arm went ‘round her shoulders to draw her close as she twined hers about his neck to kiss him. Starlight, and silk; drowning and taking joy in it.
He sensed Cotton’s hand on the wheel again, and they both looked up, startled. The old man smiled at them, his parrot fluffing up contentedly. Jack nodded, briefly, and gave over the helm. Then he bent, and scooped Harry up, light and clinging, his whispered name on her lips. Time to lose himself in her again, he thought as he carried her back across the deck.
Or maybe find himself.
~.~
On to Chapter One of Swann's Revenge