Author's note: Just a little Captain Duckling for you! Not sure how long it will be but I was feeling inspired! Enjoy!
Chapter One
Present Day
She looked out her balcony window; the view was the perfect distraction as the seamstress and her assistant hovered around her, pinning and sewing her new ball gown. No one needed to know she was looking for something – or more specifically, for someone.
Three months had passed, three lonely dreary months since she'd seen him, held him, felt his skin on hers. The cheerful summer weather seemed to mock her; she'd had to act as if nothing was wrong, as if she was excited for all the goings on in her parents' kingdom. Summer used to be her favorite time of year, but now she simply dreaded it.
Summer kept her lover from her and she did not like it one bit.
Was this what her life would be from now on? Waiting, deception? She did not enjoy lying to her parents, but what choice did she have? If they knew she'd been seduced by (and seducer of) the most notorious pirate in all the realms, at best they'd be disappointed, at worst, they'd have Killian executed. If they could capture him. He was resourceful, her pirate, and Emma resolved to run away with him if things took a bad turn.
She didn't quite know when or how it had happened but she'd fallen in love with the handsome, dangerous pirate and she refused to give him up. Not even for a kingdom.
Six Months Ago
"May I have this dance?"
Emma felt a shiver roll down her spine, the low accented tone instantly getting her attention. Dancing with various suitors was painfully boring, but somehow, she felt that this would be different. She hadn't even laid eyes on her would be partner, but she just knew. Slowly she turned and raised her eyes, higher than she expected, and looked in the most gorgeous pair of forget me not blue eyes she'd ever seen. "And you are?"
"Prince Charles, milady."
She didn't know anyone named Charles, but her parents had invited royalty and nobility from all over the land for this celebration. It was her investiture as Crown Princess, her night to shine. It was also her coming out; she would be expected to be courted and married in due course. Not something she was particularly interested in now. She was young, she wanted to enjoy life before being tied down to her duty. Still, she liked to dance, so she could at least pretend to flirt with young men who took her out onto the floor.
Emma realized she was staring; gods, he was handsome. Tall, with those eyes and chiseled jaw, dark hair perfectly coiffed. His lips were turned up in a smile, respectful, still she caught a bit of rakishness there. "You may, sir," she replied, her throat suddenly dry.
Charles reached out, his gloved hand wrapping around her waist, his left held for her to grip. Her stomach flipped as his touch settled on her waist, then her brows shot up. His left hand…was wood? It was difficult to tell, wrapped in a black glove, but it was stiff and did not feel like flesh. Still, she kept her composure. She was a princess after all. It did not frighten her, it merely intrigued her. Whoever this Charles was, he was fearless. She liked that.
The music swelled, dresses swished and twirled as they danced but Emma only had eyes for her partner. They did not speak, but their eyes spoke volumes. Charles was an exquisite dancer, his hidden handicap not hampering him in the slightest. He spun her around the floor, her royal blue gown flaring. Spun back to his chest, they were closer than before. Emma's breathing hitched but she did not pull away. Feelings swirled inside her, some confusing, but the overriding one was joy. She was happy dancing with this stranger, happier than she'd ever been at a ball.
He did not let her go, stealing her away for two more dances. They were gaining admirers, people started to notice them. Charles glanced around, as if searching for something, but then he looked in her eyes and smiled. He had a heart melting smile.
At the end of the third dance, he bowed formally. "It was my honor, Your Highness."
Emma felt a sadness grip her; already someone else was coming to steal her away, but she did not want to go. Charles brought her fingers to his lips, giving her skin the gentlest brush. But she could feel the sparks shoot up her arm. "Would you like to take a walk, Highness?"
How did he know? Emma didn't hesitate, she nodded. Charles looped her arm through his, and led her through the crowd. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother look her way, but Emma studiously ignored it. She was twenty-one years old, she could do as she liked. It was a warm night, early spring, the moon glittered in evening sky. Somehow Charles seemed to know where he was going, leading her down to the extensive palace gardens.
She couldn't help it, her heart increased its pace the moment they were truly alone. She'd still hardly said ten words to this man, yet she did not feel scared or in danger. She could handle herself, anyway. But she'd never truly been alone with a man before, especially not one as handsome as Prince Charles.
"Are you well, Highness?"
Emma blinked, shaken out of her thoughts. "Yes, I just…"
"You were staring. Again."
Despite the darkness, she blushed. "I didn't mean to be rude…"
His teeth shined in the moonlight as he laughed. "I would have been quite put out if you hadn't been, love."
She arched a brow and snatched back her hand. "And just what is that supposed to mean?!"
Charles held up his hands. "My apologies, Princess. I did not mean anything untoward. But if I may be frank, I haven't been able to take my eyes off you all evening. Even though I should."
Latent irritation aside, Emma breathed a sigh of relief. Thank the gods, it was not just her. She cocked her head, curious. "Why shouldn't you?"
He stepped closer, back into her space. Emma did not retreat. Her pulse jumped; he smelled incredible. She did not understand what was drawing them together, but she did not wish it to stop. She wanted to understand, she wanted him to touch her again. "Because, you, Princess, are quite contrary to my plans."
"You had plans?"
He picked up a lock of her hair and wrapped it around his finger. "I'm afraid I have not been entirely truthful, love."
Instantly, she was wary. "About what?"
Charles looked around, then reached for her hand. "Might I beg your indulgence for a few more moments? Perhaps find a place more…private?"
She found herself automatically slipping her hand in his, he was warm through the glove. She didn't know why but she felt like she could trust him. She had a knack for reading people, she'd suspected there was something different about him the moment she met him. But she did not believe him to be a threat to her. "Follow me." She led him deeper into the gardens, paths she'd followed hundreds of times in her youth. The sounds of the ball diminished as they disappeared into the foliage, soon all she could hear was her own racing heart and their varied footfalls, her heels and his heavy riding boots.
The bench was right where she remembered, under the tall oak tree. It was right below her window, on the very edge of the gardens. Up on her balcony, she could see the glittering ocean. Far too much, she dreamed of a life outside of the palace, of simply climbing down the ancient oak to freedom. But she never did. She didn't want to let her parents down; how could she explain to them that life as a princess bored her? This was the life she was born for, wasn't it?
"Here. I like to come here…when I need to be alone."
He smiled softly, like he was honored that she was confiding just that little morsel. It surprised even her; she wasn't a naturally trusting person. "It's beautiful, Princess. As are you."
"You already have me alone, I think we're past flattery?"
"Are we?" Then suddenly he was close, so close, she could feel his warm breath on her skin. Her eyelids fluttered, blood rushed in her ears, she could not take her eyes away from his full pink lips. The air around them was charged, had been since he asked her to dance, it was intoxicating and overwhelming and gods, why wasn't he kissing her?
She opened her mouth to say…she had no idea, but it was utterly unnecessary. In a flash his lips were on hers, soft, even tentative at first, like he expected her to push him away. Instead a sound Emma didn't recognize caught in her throat, her fingers curled into the lapels of his formal coat. Warmth spread through her, a tingling all the way to her toes. Then just as quickly as it begun, it was over. Her eyes fluttered open, her heart sinking. "Charles?"
"Name's not Charles, lass." He hadn't gone far, his mouth still hovering over hers. She tried to speak but was cut off again by his kiss, a bit more aggressive this time, his arms slipping around her. She knew she should question him, but she was melting in his arms, his tongue firmly licking at the seam of her lips. Not knowing what else to do she opened, a surprised moan seizing her as he deepened the kiss, tongue actually in her mouth, coaxing her to mimic him. It was like something out of one of her books, the seedy romance novels that lay under the floorboard under her bed. She'd been curious, but was too embarrassed to ask her mother. She didn't have anyone her age to confide in either, no one aside from servants. So, she'd taken matters into her own hands. For all her curiosity, though, she'd never been kissed and certainly not like this. She clutched at him, desperate to hold herself up.
Her mystery man broke the kiss, panting heavily, his forehead against hers. "Apologies, love."
"You didn't want to kiss me?"
He chuckled dryly. "It's all I've been able to think about since I laid eyes on you, Princess."
"I don't understand."
He brought her fingers to his lips, kissing the back gallantly. "Aye, this has been a very confusing night for me too. But I'd like to explain, if you'll let me."
Slowly, she nodded. She missed him the moment he stepped back, still holding her hand, guiding her to the stone bench. Emma smoothed out her skirts, trying to get her emotions under control. "Explain what?"
To her surprise, he scratched nervously behind his ear. "To begin with…my name is Killian Jones."
"Killian." She liked the way it sounded on her lips. It suited him better than Charles.
His eyes lit up, then dropped to her lips again. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, then continued. "Aye, and as you might have guessed, I'm not a prince."
Her brows knitted, she was more confused than ever. "Then how did you get in here? Who are you really?"
Killian was quiet for a long moment, as if weighing his options. "I've made my way into places far more heavily guarded than this palace, love. I'm a pirate."
Her eyes widened. A pirate? Here? In her parents' castle? Everything she knew about pirates told her she should be terrified for her life, but she still did not believe he would hurt her. Or kidnap her, or anything else nefarious. He'd had ample opportunity since they left the ball and he'd been nothing but besotted and surprisingly kind. He seemed as drawn to her as she to him. Still, she needed to know something. "Why are you here?"
He looked nervous again. "As I said, I had a plan. Sneak in, use the distraction to get what I came for. But then I saw you."
"Me?"
Tentatively, he reached up and touched the apple of her cheek. "You shine, Princess. Brighter than any gold."
"Is that what you came for, gold?"
He shook his head. "No. Your parents are in possession of an artifact. Something I need."
"What's that?"
"The dagger of the Dark One. I need it to take revenge on that monster."
His beautiful eyes hardened; Emma felt an irrational stab of disappointment. Not even a pirate could be interested in her for herself. "What did he do to you?"
Killian raised his left arm. "This, for starters. I'm sure you noticed."
"I didn't care."
That broke through his façade. "I noticed."
"So am I part of the distraction too? Is that why you wanted to get me alone?"
His face fell. "No, no. You, love, were not part of the plan at all." He stood and began to pace in front of her. "I should be long gone. It's dangerous for me to linger and I've spent too long trying to find a way to destroy that Crocodile!"
"Then why don't you just go?!" Emma demanded. "Why dance with me, kiss me? Why make me feel something if you're just going to go?"
Killian stopped dead. "You felt that?"
He sounded so much like a lost little boy, it tore at her heart. He was maddening. She was a princess, he was a pirate, she should be calling the guards and getting him locked up! He was planning on stealing from her family, if he hadn't already. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. She'd grown up with horrible tales of Rumplestiltskin; he was locked away in a tall fortress, far from here. Whatever the imp had done to Killian, she suspected it was more than just his hand. "I didn't feel anything."
"Lying isn't very fetching, Princess." He crossed to her in two long strides, his hands—one real, one not, cupping her face. When she didn't pull away, he bent, lips brushing hers. And again. And again. Emma felt her knees shake, she gripped his forearms, a little mewl escaping as she deepened the kiss. His hands fell to her waist, drawing her closer, their bodies flush, mouths fused together. He was overwhelming her senses, her good sense, her body screaming for his.
They backed up until her legs hit the bench, Killian sat and drew her into his lap. Her skirts pooled around her as she straddled his thighs, sighing as his lips moved along the column of her throat. "Killian."
"Hmm, that sounds nice." He found her lips again, moaning as her fingers sank into his hair. "Tell me to stop, Highness."
"Emma," she retorted, slightly breathless. "My name is Emma."
"Emma." His hand slid up under her skirts. "You feel this, between us, don't you, lass?"
It was pointless to deny it when her body was on fire. "I do, but…"
He pecked her lips. "I've been completely honest with you, Emma. Do you trust me?"
She searched his eyes, so very blue in the moonlight. She saw the same longing she felt, the same loneliness. "Yes, Killian. I trust you."
"Then relax and let me take care of you." His hand inched up her thigh; her grip tightened on her shoulders. "No one's had you, have they?"
She blushed. "No."
"It's okay." He kissed her briefly. "Do you want me to stop? I want to make you feel good, darling, but I'll stop if you wish."
"No!" It came out far too quickly and far too vehemently, but she needed more of his touch. She wanted to know what this felt like. "Don't stop. Please."
He grinned salaciously, his mouth dropping to her heaving bosom. Her bodice was so tight, her breathing labored, but he seemed to like it. His scruff rubbed the delicate skin, sending sparks all over her body. Emma keened, her legs falling open even wider, giving him better access to where she was wet. Her most fervent dreams hadn't felt like this; even if she never saw him again, she would not regret a moment of this. She felt wicked and naughty, everything a princess shouldn't be.
"You are a feast, love. So responsive." She bit her lip as he eased her panties aside, a man touching her aching core for the first time. His skin was rough, but she loved the way it felt. Fingers slid through her slit, the pad of his thumb rubbing over her swollen nub.
"Oh! Oh gods!"
"No one's done this to you," he murmured, groaning and shifting under her. He was painfully hard, but he didn't want to frighten her. He was utterly at her mercy; he was desperate to see her fall, to be the one who brought her pleasure. "Have they?"
"Noooo, ohhhh."
He felt her shudder in his arms. "Have you touched yourself, sweetling? Laid in your bed at night and slipped your hands between these lovely thighs? You're so wet, Emma."
How did he know? "I know I shouldn't but…"
"Rubbish," he scolded. "Don't be ashamed of this, lass. It supposed to feel good. You're supposed to feel so good."
"More," she pleaded. "Please!" The pressure was nearly unbearable and Killian seemed to hold the key to what was eluding her. She felt two thick digits penetrate her and she cried out. Killian found her lips with his, kissing her silent.
"Shhh, just let go, sweetling." His left arm was hard on her hip, guiding her as best he could to ride his fingers. Her pale skin was flushed, heat radiated from her, her lips kiss swollen and pouting. She was lost in pleasure and pride welled in his chest. He, Killian Jones, Captain Hook, was making her feel like this.
Emma trembled hard, burying her face in his neck as something seemed to explode inside her. Stars popped behind her closed lids, wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. She was shaking all over, her legs felt like jelly, Killian's warm lips caressed her throat. She couldn't breathe or think, content to remain right where she was.
"Extraordinary," Killian murmured softly. His loins ached for relief, but he could not bear to move her. She was still so innocent and pure; she deserved better than he. He was nothing more than a broken down pirate, hell bent on revenge, stealing a moment with a beautiful lass. So why did leaving her feel like a knife in his chest?
Slowly, Emma came back to herself, her body still heavy and sluggish. "Killian?"
"Right here, love."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you still here? Shouldn't you go find your dagger? You came a long way for it, didn't you?"
"Farther than you can imagine, princess."
She bit her lip, thinking. "I know where it is."
His brows shot up. "You do?"
"It's locked away in a chest. Tallest tower."
He looked shocked. "Why are you telling me this?"
"He took someone from you, didn't he?"
Killian glanced away. It felt wrong somehow to be thinking about Milah with this woman in his arms. He was ashamed to think he hadn't thought of his first love once since he laid eyes on Emma. She completely ensnared him, without even trying.
Emma touched his face, forcing him to look at her. "You must have loved her very much."
She sounded wistful, which just made Killian feel worse. Did no one love her? All this splendor, her family, yet she had no one special? He'd watched her for some time before taking a chance; she'd appeared bored on a night where she should have been joyous and happy. Something about her called to him, he was helpless to resist. "It was long ago."
"Will revenge make you happy?"
Killian cocked his head, blinking in surprise. He'd never considered that before. He never expected to survive his revenge, if he was being honest with himself. "No," he said at last. "But it's all I have left."
"Is it?"
The way she asked, so simple and guileless…what was he doing? Gods, he was a fool. "You'll forget I even existed, Princess. Merely two ships passing in the night." Reluctantly, he stood, righting her in the process. He needed to get out of here. Now. Still, he couldn't resist cupping her cheek one last time and placing a chaste kiss to her lips. "Goodbye, Emma."
Emma remained rooted to the spot, watched him disappear into the darkness. She didn't understand what had just happened, or what exactly she was feeling. There was a part of him that was so alive and so passionate and yet he was willing to throw that all away in the name of someone he loved. A woman, clearly. Despite Emma's somewhat sheltered upbringing, she wasn't naïve. He claimed to feel something, insisted she felt it too, kissed her and touched her and blew all her little girl fantasies away, then he simply…left. To avenge a ghost.
It hurt, more than she wanted to admit.
She wished someone loved her as much. One day.
Killian crept through the castle, keeping to the shadows. Emma had made his search much easier, still he needed to be careful. Don't think about her, he scolded himself. She deserves better and you bloody well know it. Even before he was a pirate and Captain Bloody Hook, he'd been nothing more than a child slave, nothing to someone like Emma. He could put on all the airs he wanted, he would always be nothing. It wasn't like he had anything to live for anyway. If his last act was ridding the world of the Crocodile, then it would be a good death.
Much of the castle's inhabitants and guests were still at the ball. He could hear the music playing still; his fingers twitched, the ghost of Emma's scent still lingering there. Gods, she was glorious writhing in his lap, giving into her passion. Was that her first climax? Gods, had he been her first kiss? It didn't seem possible, as pretty as she was, and yet there was an innocence about her that couldn't be feigned. He'd seen more than his share of the world, toyed with many a lass. No one he'd ever met was as pure as Emma. There was a light, an inner strength, that he was drawn to, against his better judgement.
It was no matter. He'd have his prize and then be far from here. His revenge was so close he could taste it.
Emma couldn't go back to the ball. Her encounter with Killian in the garden rattled her, shook her to her very foundation; moreover, her mother would know something was wrong. She wasn't in the mood to talk about it. What she'd shared with Killian was intimate and private; she couldn't bear it if he was captured now. He claimed she'd forget him, but she knew he was wrong. She could feel him, it was like he was imprinted on her, body and soul.
Instead, she hurried to her suite, plucking the pins from her hair. Long curls tumbled down her back, tears stung her eyes. Damn it, she hated crying. She sniffed hard, desperate to pull herself together. Upon entering her rooms, she slammed the door shut, just a little too hard. Her maids had the evening off; indeed, Emma hadn't expected to retire until well after midnight. Marching toward her bedroom, she began to loosen the ties and ribbons that held her gown together, the pieces landing haphazardly on the floor. Left in only her shift, Emma splashed water on her face, then looked in the mirror. She didn't look any different, but she felt different. Technically, she was still a virgin, still pure in the archaic sense, but Emma knew she was changed. Killian's touch, his kisses, had set her on fire, burning away the child that lingered in her psyche. She'd only been playing at being a woman before, but now she knew what real passion felt like.
Would she ever feel it again?
She slept in fits and starts, finally sleeping well past sunrise. No one questioned her, assuming she'd enjoyed the ball well into the night. She felt disconnected from her own life, like a piece of her was missing. As the days passed the feeling didn't go away. She heard nothing of Killian, so she could only assume he got his prize and was long gone.
A week later, Emma dismissed her maids for the evening, her patience thin. Just once, she wanted time to herself where no one was fussing over her. Frustrated in more ways than one, she picked up her brush and started working the tangles out of her long tresses. It usually calmed her, but she was too wired. She kept imagining Killian touching her, bringing her to the very peak of pleasure, but she hadn't been able to touch him in return. While in his arms, she could feel his strength, his lithe and toned build, the bulge that tented his trousers. But it was just a tease. All sorts of filthy things flitted across her mind, her lips on his exposed neck, her nails raking through the chest hair that peaked out of his shirt. She bit her lip, the now familiar ache building in her core again. The more she thought about him, the more aroused she became, her sensitive nipples rubbing against the fabric of her shift.
Killian told her not to be ashamed of her desire and she heeded him now, hands cupping her breasts. She spun on the stool so she could lean back against the vanity, humming softly as she thumbed the hardening peaks. Little sparks of need shot down her spine, wetness pooled in her core. Her hips rocked against the stool, eager for friction, for Killian's touch. He wasn't there, so she yanked the fabric off and spread her legs, her less nimble fingers touching her damp flesh as he had done. She'd never quite succeeded in bringing herself off before, her explorations ending in frustration. But her body remembered, a shudder going through her as she stroked her sensitive nub. Emma moaned softly, eyes falling shut, trying to imagine her pirate between her thighs. She slipped two fingers, then three into her heat, pumping in and out as he had, her other hand alternating between her breast and her cleft. She could feel it, just out of reach, the yearned for high and she moved faster, furiously grinding down on her hand. Finally, she shattered with a long cry, trembling and covered in sweat.
What had he done to her?
"Bloody hell."
Emma's head snapped up, shame washing over her. She desperately tried to reach for her shift, anything to cover herself, but a large calloused hand stopped her. "Emma, you are stunning."
Her mouth opened—whether to curse him or shout for the guard, she didn't know—but nothing came out. She was utterly stunned. "What?" she finally asked, feeling stupid and slow. Embarrassment burned on her skin; she was only partly covered, the shift in her lap.
"I'm a downright lecher sneaking in like this, love, but I was out there and I heard you…bloody hell, you are glorious, Princess."
Emma gulped. "You heard me?"
His eyes were bright, but he did not mock her. "You were rather loud, sweetling. But the corridor was deserted, aside from me."
Finally, she had the presence of mind to yank the shift up over her chest, not that it mattered now. He'd already seen her entirely nude. That didn't bother her as much as it should have. "Haven't you done enough?" she snapped.
"Just what, pray tell, have I done?"
"Barged into my room! Tried to seduce me!"
"You were very much a willing participant, Princess."
She ignored his logic and stood, pushing him aside, wrapping herself in the cloth. "I thought you were going? Or did you come to toy with me some more? The big bad pirate toying with the poor naïve princess."
"I never took you as naïve, Emma. Sheltered perhaps, but quite capable."
"You don't even know me."
"Not yet. But I'd like to."
She scoffed. It was her only defense; he'd already gotten under her skin. "Just go. Take your precious dagger and get your revenge."
He was dressed quite differently now, a heavy leather coat on his shoulders, a blood red vest and leather trousers. He looked even more handsome, if that were possible. Killian reached into his coat and plucked something out. He laid it on her vanity, the metal reflecting the candlelight. Emma had seen the Dark One's dagger only once, but she could never forget it. Rumplestiltskin's name was etched into the side, surrounded by ornate black filigree. But if Killian already had the dagger, why was he here in her room? How had he even found her suite to begin with? "Killian?"
"I had every intention of taking it," he began, taking a step toward her. "I've been chasing that bloody Crocodile so long…I've done many things I'm not proud of, lass."
"What things?"
He took a deep breath and reached for his left hand. Emma watched in fascination as he twisted it off and slipped it into a pocket. In its place, he inserted a gleaming metal hook into the socket, screwing it into place with a click. "I am Captain Hook, Princess."
She should be scared, but nothing about him seemed dangerous, at least not physically. On some level, she knew he would never hurt her. Slowly, she reached out, her fingers brushing the metal. It was cool to the touch. She knew his reputation; everyone in the Enchanted Forest knew. But that fearsome reputation did not jive with the man in front of her, who looked at her with such earnest hope. And passion. "Emma?"
"I still don't know why you're here. You could have just taken it."
"Then I'd never see you again. And I currently find that notion intolerable."
"I'm no one special. Not like the one you lost." Killian must have loved her very deeply to go to such lengths to avenge her.
"No one special? Lass, I haven't been able to get you out of my bloody head. For days now, I've tried to sail away from this place, but I can't."
"Seems easy enough." She turned, intent of finding a robe or something to cover herself better. A warm hand touched her bare shoulder, gently drawing her to a stop, forcing her to turn. She swallowed hard, the intense look in his eyes beautiful but a little frightening.
"If you truly think leaving is easy, love, then perhaps you are naïve."
"What else am I supposed to think? You made it clear that all that matters to you is revenge."
"And yet you did not call for the guards, Princess. Not even now."
She lifted her chin defiantly. "I'm not afraid of you, Captain."
"That's good, because I am bloody terrified of you."
That startled her. It made no sense. "What?"
"You heard me, love. You're right, I should be long gone. Staying in one place is usually hazardous to my health. But I knew if I left without seeing you again, I would regret it. I try not to live without regrets, especially after…" He trailed off. "I just don't."
She wanted to know about this woman who had such a hold on him. Wanted to know, and yet didn't. There was no way she could compare to his great love. "Well now you've seen me," she said quietly. "Mission accomplished."
"I would apologize for catching you in the act, but when I heard my name, I had to know."
She flushed crimson. Had she cried out for him? She couldn't recall. "Haven't you done enough? I can't sleep, I keep wandering back to that damn spot in the garden. My parents think I'm turning into some sort of recluse! I don't want this! Gods, I wish I'd never met you!"
The moment the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. His face fell, the hope flickered out of his blue eyes. She'd hurt him. Badly. He opened his mouth, then abruptly shut it and pushed past her, intent on leaving the way he had come. A half panicked sob gripped her, her feet were moving before she could fully register the action. "Killian! Wait."
"You made your feelings quite clear, Your Highness," he spat. "I'm the one who's a bloody fool."
Wildly, she made a grab for his hand. "I'm sorry." She held him fast, willing him to believe her. "I didn't mean that. Any of it. You just left and I tried to forget what we shared, but I can't and it's killing me."
He stared at her for what felt like an eternity, the only sound her heart thudding in her chest. "I'm going to kiss you," he announced, drawing her into his arms. "And I may not be able to stop."
All she could do was nod and curl her fingers into his waistcoat, eyes fluttering shut as hips mouth touched hers. There was nothing hesitant or chaste about this kiss, it was passionate and possessive, everything she'd been missing. Her world tilted on its axis and gods help her, she did not want it put back to rights. How many nights had she lain awake wishing he would kiss her like this? She yanked on the collar of his coat, pulling him down to her as she sucked greedily on his tongue, nipping sharply at his lips.
"Bloody minx," he growled, scooping her up. His boots thudded on the stone as he marched them to her oversized four poster and laid her flat. Her golden hair fanned out like a halo, the awkwardly wrapped shift already falling off her nude form. "Gods, tell me you want this, darling."
There was no question as to what he was asking. She ached for him, to touch and explore him, feel his hand on her body. Her gaze flitted to his hook, curious as to how that would feel on her overheated skin. For the last week, she'd thought of nothing but him. "Yes," she whispered, with more confidence than she felt. "Yes."
Killian nodded fervently, shrugging out of his heavy coat. It fell to the stone with a thud and he flashed her a sexy smirk as he bent to shuck his boots. Emma propped herself up on her elbows, the shift finally falling completely from her body. She expected to feel more embarrassed or frightened, but mostly she was just worried about disappointing him. She wasn't a little girl anymore; here was a man who obviously wanted her. Badly. She tried not to stare, but her eyes kept falling to the prominent bulge in his leather pants; she'd only gotten a tease of him that night in the garden. He caught her staring, a groan on his lips, his eyes stormy and heavy with lust. Instinctively, Emma began to back up, move toward the center of the enormous bed, leaving the shift behind. Killian crawled in after her, every bit a dangerous man on the prowl and it thrilled her. She wasn't the princess anymore, she was a woman, one he wanted to make his own.
And she would be of the very willingly taken.
"Is your corridor typically so devoid of guards, milady?" he asked, lips caressing her knee.
Her breathing hitched, she was already feeling lightheaded. "W-w-why does that matter?"
"Well, we wouldn't want to get interrupted now, would we?"
Oh. Emma shook her head. "I can take care of myself."
"Of that I am well aware." He could not get the vision of her pleasuring herself out of his mind. It was proof that she had been just as affected by their encounter in the garden as him. That he was not alone in these feelings that refused to let go. "Tell me again, Princess. Tell me you want me."
He left a trail of kisses up her inner thigh, Emma shook with nerves and excitement. Instinctively, she opened her legs wider, giving him a flash of her wet and aching sex. "Please," she pleaded, her voice hardly more than a whisper. "Oh gods, please!"
He bent over her mound, inhaling her scent. "The words, Emma."
She swallowed, trembling, but not from fear. "I want you, Killian. Gods, I want you so much."
"There's a good girl." He smiled at her, then lowered his mouth to her sex. A surprised cry tore from her throat as she felt his tongue and lips on her, licking, teasing the swollen flesh. It felt incredible, her hips rocking toward him of their own accord. She didn't fully understand what her body was demanding, but she went with her instincts. Killian seemed to approve, growling and sliding his hand under her ass and dragging her closer. Emma threw her head back, awash in the exquisite torture, the pressure slowly building again. Only this time it was more, because the pirate of her fantasies was actually there between her legs. Her fingers gripped the sheets hard as she bucked against him, keening loudly as he pushed his tongue into her hole. "Oh…oh!"
"You're so close, sweet," he murmured, tongue flicking over her clit. "Let go for me, let me see you fall apart."
He wrapped his lips around her hard nub and sucked hard; Emma shattered instantly, her back arching almost painfully as she convulsed, her mouth open in a silent scream. She'd never felt anything like it; she was desperate to feel it again. Aftershocks rocked her as she came down, his mouth still licking and lapping at her dripping hole. "Gods, you taste divine, Princess."
Emma sagged into the mattress, trying to regain her wits. She thought she should say something, thank him, but she couldn't think. She whimpered at the feel of soft lips on her belly, the valley of her breasts. She opened her eyes just enough to see him hovering over her, still fully clothed, and devastatingly handsome. She gave him a nod and he kissed her, warm and sweet, gathering her close as she wove her fingers into his hair. He was solid and hard against her curves; she needed to feel his skin. With shaking fingers, she tried to pluck open the buttons of his vest, but she was clumsy and slow.
"Patience, sweetling." He stilled her hand and sat up. "Now try."
She was thankful that he was letting her undress him, needing that time to gather herself. Nothing they'd done so far had lasting consequences; provided Killian was not caught in the castle, no one would be the wiser. But if she let him have her, truly make love to her, then there was no going back. Some would see her as spoiled, defiled, but she didn't care. None of those princes who tried to court her cared about her, they just cared about allying with her kingdom. She was the Crown Princess, yes, but this was her life and she was fully capable of making her own choices.
Killian remained quiet as she loosened his waistcoat, carefully watching her face. As badly as he wanted her, he would not force her. If he saw the least hesitation, he would leave and never bother her again. He did not understand this hold she had on him, but he wanted to. She was the first ray of light in over three hundred years, something more than death and retribution and pain. He was afraid to trust it, this feeling, it was so foreign, so long since he cared about someone else. He knew this was more than simply a desire to bed her; he hadn't been a monk for three hundred years. He'd bedded many a lass on his travels, more to relieve the boredom than anything else. He had an itch and he scratched it, nothing more. But in their brief acquaintance, Emma was far more to him than any random wench. This had every chance of blowing up in his face, but he was so cold and lonely, so dark and she was light.
Emma fisted the black linen shirt, sucking her lip between her teeth as she drew it over his head. He was even more than she imagined, his chest hair black and thick, covering his pecs, leaving a trail down his belly. She reached out to touch and he was warm, so warm, the muscles defined and toned perfectly. There was a tattoo on his forearm, heart with a dagger through it. Was there a name there? She couldn't tell. "Emma," he bit out, torn between letting her explore and the ache in his loins. "Love, please."
She nodded, pushing him onto his back so she could open the laces of his pants. He groaned as she brushed his crotch, hips rocking up. She flushed prettily but managed to get the laces undone. Killian shoved the material down himself, sighing as his cock was finally freed. Emma wet her lips, unable to tear her eyes away. He was thick, bigger than she imagined; her body throbbed in response. Killian smirked to himself and took her hand, encouraging her to touch. He shuddered at the light brush of her fingers on his erection, a low moan on his lips. "Please, love. Need you so much."
She tilted her head, nervous, but he helped her, wrapping her hand around him. He was heavy, hard but soft to the touch. He showed her how to stroke him, slow pulls of her hand, up and down his length. It felt so fucking amazing, Killian threw his head back and groaned. Encouraged, Emma went a little faster, watching as he bucked into her hand.
Panting, he stilled her hand once more. "You have to stop, darling. Fuck."
"Did I hurt you?"
"No, no. But if you still want me, then you have to stop."
"Oh."
He arched a brow. "Do you? Want this? Tell me now, lass."
She raked her eyes over his naked body; he was powerful and athletic, honed from years at sea no doubt. She didn't care what it made her, she wanted him. Locking gazes, she nodded. "Take me, Captain."
He roared in triumph and rolled them over, settling eagerly between her lush thighs. Instead of the pain she expected, Killian merely ducked his head and licked her nipple, lavishing her with attention and sending fresh waves of want to her core. "Don't want to hurt you, love," he said by way of explanation, using his hook to hitch her right leg back. He ground his erection over her sensitive flesh, earning him a needy mewl. "Want you nice and slick for me."
She tried to understand what he meant, but she was lost again. His mouth attacked one nipple, his deft fingers the other, seeming to wind her up like a toy, an ache she didn't recognize building between her legs. "Please," she begged, writhing under him. "Please!"
He kissed her hard, another passionate possession of her, as he spread her legs wide. "Relax," he whispered, nudging her. She stilled, eyes locked with his, giving him an almost imperceptible nod as he angled his hips just right. Her mouth fell open in an O, shuddering as he slowly filled her. It didn't hurt, not in the way she expected. All she felt was a delicious burn as she stretched to accommodate his girth. Killian cursed; she fit him like a glove, all slick heat and tight walls.
"Alright?"
She nodded hard. "Don't stop!"
He didn't think he could have if he wanted to. This was a little slice of heaven, the feel of his princess wrapped around him. With supreme effort, he slowly started to withdraw, watching her face for signs of discomfort. But hers was a mask of pleasure, her eyes rolling back in her head at the drag of him through her sex. "Oh gods, more. More, please."
Killian dragged her arms above her head, locking them there with his hook, hips jerking. Emma arched under him, desperately trying to move with him, find a rhythm that felt good. He ducked down to kiss her, nip at her swollen lips as he pistoned in and out of her, blatantly fucking her into the mattress. She hitched her legs up instinctively, locking her ankles behind his back, forcing him deeper. Killian swore, his orgasm already far too close. "Emma, bloody fuck!"
"I need…gods, I need…" She didn't know what she needed; the pressure was almost unbearable, she needed release, needed that rush of fire in her veins.
"I know, sweet." He rolled them over again, cursing when he slipped from her hot sheath. Emma whined, but he guided her back to him, ordering her to straddle his hips. He guided her back, showing her how to sink down on his cock, how to ride him. "That's it. Ugh, so good, lass." She felt a little awkward at first, but quickly got the hang of it, turned on by the look of pure pleasure on his face. He was staring at where they were joined, and Emma felt a new rush of wetness in her core.
"Killian…"
The way she said his name had him undone. Resting his hook on her hip, he found her clit and rubbed it quickly, groaning as she shuddered. "Faster, darling, faster. I've got you."
Her other climaxes were merely a tease, a hint of what was to come. This one seemed to ripple out from her core, from her very being, walls clamping down hard on the length inside her, thighs quivering as she pushed through it, hands braced on his chest. She screamed, long and loud, the sound of skin slapping mixing deliciously with the blood rushing in her ears. Killian moved his hand to her hip, holding her steady as he thrust up into her, over and over again until stars burst behind his eyes, cock pulsing as he filled her with his seed, branding her as his.
She felt dazed, exhausted, yet her body tingled with the remnants of her climax. Her arms gave out and Killian caught her, easing her down to the bed. His lips brushed her forehead so tenderly it made her heart clench. "How do you feel?"
She sighed, rolling to snuggle closer to his warmth. He seemed surprised at first, but held her close. "Hmmm, you're warm."
He chuckled lightly, his heart still raced in his chest as he tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he'd just bedded a princess. "I didn't hurt you?"
Emma stretched experimentally; there was a hollow kind of ache between her legs, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Just a sign that she was different now. "I don't think so. That was…more than I expected."
"Good?"
"Mmhmm." He breathed a sigh of relief, he would hate himself (well, more) if she regretted this. He kissed her brow, astonished as she tangled herself up even more against him.
"Sleepy, Princess?"
No, she wasn't sleepy, more like afraid he'd disappear. He was a pirate, he couldn't stay. He'd taken an enormous risk sneaking back into the castle just to see her, now they'd crossed an unforgiveable line. Not to her, she'd wanted him, still wanted him in fact. But her parents would be furious, arrest him on the spot if they caught him here.
"Princess?"
"Emma. I don't want to be a princess right now."
He snagged the sheet with his hook and pulled it over them. "What do you want, sweetling? What dreams do you have in that pretty head of yours?"
She frowned, thinking. Lately, her dreams had been consumed with him. On a practical level, her parents made sure she wanted for nothing, giving her gorgeous dresses, indulging her desire to learn swordfighting and archery…in short, she lived a charmed, privileged life. Unfortunately, that life bored her to tears most of the time. "I don't know."
He looked confused. "Surely someone like you dreams of being swept off her feet by some prince or other."
She shrugged. "I think I've met almost every prince in this realm but only one made an impression."
A flash of jealousy curled in his gut. "And who might that be?"
She smiled tentatively. "Well, he turned out not to be a prince at all. In fact, he's a pirate."
"You can't mean that."
"Why not? I'm not some silly girl!" She pushed away from him, annoyed. Of course, her body chose that moment to ache, a sharp twinge of pain in her core. And she was all wet and sticky. Flushing crimson, she leaped off the bed and hurried to the basin to clean herself up.
Killian watched her go, angry with himself. He hadn't meant to hurt her feelings. But his own were so confused and raw where she was concerned, he didn't know which way was up. Not bothering to cover himself, he crossed the room to where she stood, her back to him. "My apologies, Emma. I'm afraid this is as new for me, as it is for you."
"What is?"
She sounded so vulnerable, it broke his heart. He placed his hand on her shoulder. "I…I've been alone for a very long time, lass. But you make me want to not be alone." He swallowed. "I thought vengeance was the end of my story and now I'm not so sure."
Emma turned, her eyes wide. They barely knew one another, but she felt for him. She'd missed him when she thought he was gone forever. "How long?"
He ducked his head, embarrassed. "Over three hundred years."
"How?"
"Neverland. I went there, vowing to find a way to end the Crocodile. My first love…he killed her, you see."
"I'm so sorry."
"It was long ago."
She laid her hand on his arm. "He's hurt my family too. That's why he's locked away, so he can't hurt anyone else."
"Prison is too good for him."
Emma nodded. "Perhaps. But the dagger would do you no good. If you killed him with it, you would become the Dark One in his place."
Killian's head snapped up. "What?!"
Emma flinched. "You didn't know?"
"No." He looked down at his hand; he'd done some terrible things, but he never wanted to be that monster. He'd rather die himself than be that. He'd been so ready to steal the dagger and end things…was meeting Emma a blessing in disguise? Was he meant to find her, to get him off this path of destruction? It was too confusing to contemplate. Could he let Milah go unavenged? But if the cost was his own soul…she would never want that for him. She'd died protecting him, loving him. Confused, heart aching, he turned away, needing space.
Emma bit her lip, worried. Had she hurt his feelings? What was he thinking? She wanted to comfort him, but didn't know how. Goosebumps rose on her flesh and she belatedly realized she was still nude. She snatched up her robe and wrapped it around herself, then cautiously approached. "Killian?"
"I'm afraid I wouldn't be very good company, lass."
Determined, Emma moved around to face him. "What was her name?"
"Milah."
That explained the tattoo. She ignored the jealousy that flared in her chest. He didn't belong to her. "That's a lovely name. I'm sure she loved you."
"She died protecting me from him."
Emma laid her hand on his brace. "And this?"
"Punishment from the Dark One. He was a cripple…before. Before the Darkness. Milah said he'd maimed himself. When she chose me, he decided to return the favor, make me a cripple too."
She let her fingers trace the straps. She knew he was more than that; she knew it the moment she realized he had a false hand. "May I see?"
"It's not very pretty, lass."
"I don't care." He shrugged, but kept still as she worked the straps and buckles. It was heavier than she expected; she had to hold it with one hand while finishing with the leather. Slowly, she removed the brace, revealing the scarred blunted stump. It wasn't as bad as she feared, a clean cut, the skin irritated from long hours wearing the brace. She laid the hook aside and cradled his arm in her hands. "Does it hurt?"
"Phantom pains every now and again, but otherwise no."
"Not even this?" She turned the reddened flesh with her thumbs, gently.
"I'm used to it."
"Come here. Please?" He followed her back to the vanity and she instructed him to sit. He was still naked, so beautiful, but she ignored it for the moment. She took a jar from the tabletop and knelt in front of him; she had a cream for her scrapes and callouses from training. It might help. She unscrewed the top and dipped her fingers into it, moving to lightly rub it into his skin.
To say he was flabbergasted would be an understatement. Why was she being so kind to him? They'd slaked their lust, but this was…more. It had been so long since real genuine kindness had been directed at him…he was at a loss. Speechless. The confusing feelings that seemed to be keeping him in this wretched kingdom only intensified, wrapped up in this woman who knelt before him.
"Better?"
He shook his head, trying to focus. "Aye. Thank you." He touched her cheek. "What are we doing?"
"I don't know. But…I want to." She leaned her head on his hand, he cupped her cheek. "I want to know you, Killian."
"You may not like what you see."
She turned her head and kissed his palm. "I see you, just as you are."
Killian shivered, touched by her words. "Come here, love." She smiled and climbed into his lap, parting the bottom of the robe so it didn't get caught. She cupped his face, thumbs stroking his cheekbones, nose brushing his. She smelled of sunflowers and sex, his hand tangled in her long golden tresses. He opened his mouth to speak, but Emma cut him off, kissing him sweetly. He could not resist the pull of her lips, chasing her, needing her softness. She made a sound of encouragement, fingers sinking into his hair, leaning closer, the robe brushing his chest. They remained there, simply kissing, long slow kisses that seared themselves into his memory. "Emma…"
Being in his arms was intoxicating. "Just kiss me."
He heeded her quiet demand, his left arm slipping under the robe to hold her close. She did not recoil from his touch and he felt his heart open just a little bit more. He tugged on the sash holding the robe together, growling in satisfaction as it came apart. "You're so soft, lass."
She sighed, shrugging the offending garment off, leaving her nude once more. She no longer felt shy about her nudity, reveling the way his eyes darkened and burned. She coaxed his head down, humming happily as he wrapped his lips around a nipple and sucked. Anchoring herself to his neck, she leaned back, a fresh wave of desire rolling through her. "Oh yes."
Killian raised his head, drinking in the long elegant line of her throat, the desire evident on her face. "Tell me what you need, sweetling."
She was still a little sore from their earlier lovemaking, but she didn't know how much time she was going to have with him. "You, I just need you."
He yanked her back and kissed her hard, reveling in her squeal of delight. "Shall I take you right here? Make you watch as I fuck you?"
His filthy language spoke to something primal within her, her core clenched hard. She reached down between them, her hand wrapping around his hardening girth. "I want to remember this," she murmured, attacking his delectable neck with her lips. "I want to feel every bit of you."
Killian groaned, his little princess was getting less shy by the moment. He couldn't explain how much it turned him on, the idea that she wanted to explore her passion with him. There was a hint of danger too, as they were fucking in her room, in the very palace from which he'd stolen a dangerous artifact. It was a new kind of adventure for him, which was something considering how long he'd lived.
"Bloody hell." She gave him a particularly rough tug and he jerked. "Easy, lass. You'll get your fill."
"Sorry."
"Gods, don't be sorry." He kissed her swiftly. "I won't break, Emma. I just want this to be satisfying for both of us."
"Oh. Oh," she moaned as his fingers danced over her swollen nub. "Oh!"
"Hmm, almost ready for me," he hummed. "And you're sure? Does this hurt?"
Emma was trying to grind onto his hand, any thought of pain long gone. She buried her nose against his neck, nipples rubbing deliciously against his chest, hips rocking on his digits. She was wet and getting wetter; she could not get enough of him. "No, it feels…gods, it feels so good."
"My wanton princess." Reluctantly, he removed his hand, making her watch with heavy lidden eyes as he licked his fingers clean. She tasted sweet; one day he would spend hours between her thighs, getting her off with just his mouth. "Will you do exactly as I say, love?"
Emma nodded fervently, curious about what he planned on doing to her. She was surprised when he set her on her feet and got up himself. But his plan became clearer when he asked her to kneel on the bench of her vanity and bend over the top of it. She could see them plainly in the mirror, her lips red and swollen, her pupils blown wide, her skin flushed. Killian stood behind her, tall and gorgeous and naked, his right hand pulling aside some of her hair. "Spread your knees a bit, Princess."
She did so, feeling a bit exposed. But Killian looked at her as if she were nothing short of a goddess, his hand and forearm caressing her skin. He gave her ass a firm squeeze and she moaned. "Eyes on me." Emma looked in the mirror, locking her gaze with his, green on blue, waiting with breathless anticipation. It grew more difficult to focus, as he rubbed the tip of his cock over her swollen folds, teasing them both.
"Killian, please!"
Was it too much to hope that someone this woman would make him beg with need? Holding her lust filled gaze he pushed forward, sinking once more into her soft willing body. They groaned in unison, Emma's head falling forward in ecstasy. But Killian was having none of it. He grabbed a handful of her hair and tugged her back up, forcing her to look in the mirror. "Watch," he growled. "Do not take your eyes off the mirror."
It was a tone he'd not used, one that demanded she obey. As a princess, she was used to giving orders, being obeyed, but this was different. She shivered hard, eager to please him. If she didn't he might take the pleasure away, leave her frustrated and unsatisfied and she could not risk it. So she looked, gazed into the mirror, hardly recognizing herself. Her lover rode her slowly, taking her deeply, the angle new and so good. She felt full, feeling every thick inch of him within her. The longer she watched them, she grew even more wet, the eroticism more than anything she'd read in a book. It wasn't long before she was rocking back, impaling herself on his cock with every drive of his hips.
Killian watched her face in the mirror, thoroughly enraptured by her. He reached around to find her clit, needing to feel her come on his cock, squeeze him. When he found it, she let out a strangled cry, her hands clenched into fists. "More, harder! Please!"
He held her steady with his forearm, taking her harder, bottoming out, a low groan caught in his throat. He worked her clit furiously, determined to get her off first. It crashed over her suddenly, walls strangling him, her hand banging hard on the wood of the vanity, his name on her lips. His hand slid to her hips to hold on as he fucked her through it, chasing his own high. He came with a low groan of pleasure, his whole body shuddering with the force of his climax. Spent, he leaned over her, ear against her back, where he could hear her thudding heartbeat.
Emma could hardly hold herself up, weak from the hard climax. Killian held her securely around the middle, so she gladly let him bear her weight. When he got his breath back, he carried her to bed, fetching a cloth to clean her up. She felt weightless and happy, yet when he returned to her side, he was frowning. "What's wrong?"
He propped his head up, his forearm resting on her belly. "I didn't think, lass. I am so sorry."
"About what?"
"I should not have finished inside you, sweetling. I could get you with child."
"Oh." To be honest, she hadn't thought of that either. "Do you…regret it? Being with me?"
He looked horrified. "No, although I must admit it wasn't my intention when I crept in here, strictly speaking."
"It wasn't?
"I just had to see you. To see if you thought about me half as much as I did you."
"I can't get you out of my head," she confessed. "I don't want to."
"Where does that leave us? You're a princess, love. I'm nothing more than a pirate."
"If I believed that, I wouldn't have told you where the dagger was."
"Why did you?"
She glanced away. "Because you deserved to make the choice yourself. And…I guess I was envious. Of the love you had for another."
A princess envious? He was floored by her all over again. Anyone who didn't love her was a fool. Worse than a fool. Where did that leave him? It was too much, he needed to think, away from her delectable body and sweet scent. And yet, he didn't want to leave her.
"You should go."
"Go?" Had she realized all this was mistake?
She looked up at him, her gaze earnest. "I want to see you again, Killian. I do. But if you're caught here…"
She was trying to protect him. An invisible weight lifted off his chest. Whatever he was feeling, she was in just as deep as he. "I got in here, love. I'm certain I can get out."
She rolled on her side, he needed to take this seriously. "Please do this for me? I can return the dagger to its chest…if you want."
He looked in her captivating green eyes, wanting desperately to believe. Everything he knew was turning on its head, he was merely along for the ride. "Very well." He carded his fingers through her hair. "When will I see you again?"
"Soon." She kissed him, pressing close, trying to soak in his warmth before he was gone from her bed. "Where are you staying?"
"My ship, she's moored a little way down the coast."
Emma thought quickly. "Can you be in the town near here? Tomorrow night?"
He felt giddy, knowing she wanted to see him again so soon. "Aye, I can. I'm not sure how long I can linger here, my crew will become suspicious."
She didn't want to think about all the complications, all the things that could go wrong. She was willing to take the risk. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."
"Can you get out of the castle safely, lass?"
Emma nodded. "I know every inch of this place. Don't worry about me." She kissed him again, sighing as he pulled her close, wrapping her up in another of those bone melting embraces. "Go, Killian, please."
"I don't know what you've done to me, sweetling, but I promise we'll go on this adventure together."
An adventure. The perfect name for this undefined thing between them.
She wrapped herself in the sheet, watching with bated breath as he dressed himself, covering all that tanned skin. When he was finished, her pirate lover marched up to her and kissed her deeply, making her shiver right down to her toes. When she opened her eyes, he was gone.
Present day
Six months had passed since the fateful night. She met him in the village as arranged the next night; they spent much of it locked away at an inn, making love. In between, they talked; he told her tales of his days as a pirate, the places he'd been. Emma mostly listened, far more interested in his life than hers. He'd lived so long, it was difficult to wrap her mind around. Still, he managed to coax her out, talk about herself, her life in the palace. It felt good to confide in someone who wasn't her family, someone who expected nothing from her. For a breathless stolen week they carried on thus, her in the palace by day, in his arms at night. Finally, he could linger no longer. Emma was half tempted to run away with him, but he talked her out of it. They still hardly knew each other, he pointed out, she shouldn't throw her life away on a whim. He promised to return soon, half joking that she would forget him.
Early the following morning, she stood on her balcony, watching as the Jolly Roger sailed past, her captain at the helm.
Killian was true to his word, returning off and on for the next couple of months. He would raise her kingdom's flag as his ship passed nearby, her signal to meet him. Eager to see him, she crept out as quickly as she dared, hood in place as she hurried to the tavern. Once, she didn't even make it there, Killian grabbing her from behind and dragging her into an alley where he kissed her breathless. Each reunion was joyous, each parting harder to bear. As he left this last time, she knew she was in love with him, but she couldn't find the courage to tell him. He still did not believe himself worthy of her; she knew her relationship would be unacceptable to her parents.
At least she was not with child yet. She'd taken that precaution after he left the first time. Her courses were still regular, no one suspected anything was amiss. She learned quickly to conceal her fleeting happiness, lest her family start asking questions she couldn't answer. It wasn't a subterfuge she enjoyed, but until they found a solution, it was a necessary one.
For three months, he'd been gone, longer than ever before, but at least she knew he was alive. She'd trained a bird to deliver messages between them; his last note lay tucked away in her hope chest. Wait for me, my princess, he'd written. I shall be with you soon.
Now she was waiting for yet another ball, another chance for the princes of the realms to parade before her. How could any of them hold a candle to her pirate? She longed for him, it was a physical ache in her chest. She would not be whole until she was in his arms once more.
A dark shape started to emerge from the tree line; Emma held her breath, pretending to suck in her belly for the seamstress. One mast, then two—her heart skipped a beat—three. And at the top of the tallest mast, her kingdom's colors snapped in the breeze.
Her pirate had returned to her at last.
