Chapter 1
Society's Captive
Outside, it had begun to rain lightly, but the guests inside hardly noticed. Another dance had been struck up and the gentlemen and ladies lined up to face each other. After polite bows and curtseys, the partners began the intricate dance steps in time to the lively music.
Elizabeth stood to the side, sighing with boredom. The society ladies chatted about tea parties and new silk patterns; hardly thrilling conversation compared to what Elizabeth would have been discussing had she been aboard the Black Pearl that very moment. But instead she had been poked and prodded into a ridiculously tight corset and wedged into China's finest silk gown, adorned with fine jewelry and set precariously on uncomfortable heels, only with the arm of her husband Commodore James Norrington to help her keep her balance. Slowly Elizabeth edged away from the other women, backing towards the study. The ballroom and sitting room were sweltering and Elizabeth was finding it difficult to breath properly. She had reached the edge of the room when she felt a firm hand seize her arm.
"Going somewhere?"
Commodore Norrington had snuck up behind her, obviously in an attempt to make sure she did not try to leave the party.
"Oh, James. Yes, I was just going to get some fresh air." She forced a sweet smile.
His hand tightened around her arm. "I don't think so," he said, steering her back towards the ballroom and the guests. "This is, after all, a party in our honor."
Elizabeth winced as he released her arm and hooked it through his own, donning a broad smile as they enter the lounge. She had no choice but to follow his lead.
Across the room, a young man watched as Commodore and Lady Norrington entered the room amidst smiles and applause. Despite their own smiles, the pair looked uncomfortable and ill at ease. The young man watched Elizabeth closely as her husband introduced her to a captain and his wife. Her smile faded rapidly when the captain had turned away, replaced by a small scowl. But despite her expression, the man could not deny Elizabeth's beauty. He admired her slender frame and her long blonde hair that had been pulled back and tightly woven on the top of her head, yet he couldn't help but think she must look even more beautiful without all the adornments.
Eventually she had been introduced to the rest of the important society guests and she wandered away while Commodore Norrington spoke to one of the commanders. The young man rose from his seat and followed her, at a distance. She had been aiming from the hall leading away from the noisy party, but just as she reached the door he caught her.
"May I have this dance?" he said, phrasing the question so she could not refuse without seeming rude.
She turned around, disappointment etched on her face and her body as her shoulders dropped.
"Who are you?" she said, not bothering with polite pretense.
"Jonathan Newcastle, Lieutenant in the Royal Navy." He offered his hand and a polite smile.
Elizabeth glanced around, searching for a reason not to dance with the officer.
"I do believe you have nothing better to do," he said, following her gaze.
She shot him a quick glare and for a moment he thought she would walk away. But she placed her hand on his and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.
The dance was a slower one and he held her hand firmly while placing his other on her slim waist. He was considerably taller than she was and she tilted her head up to examine his face.
He certainly wasn't high-ranking, as evident in his appearance. His jaw was shadowed with stubble, though Elizabeth admitted she preferred that to the unnaturally smooth jaw of her husband. His eyes were dark, the same as his hair, which was pulled back in a careless tail. His demeanor was easygoing and he seemed much more relaxed than the iron-backed captains and admirals who stood forever at attention. He had the rough hands of a sailor and Elizabeth noticed a small scar across his right cheekbone.
Despite his casual appearance, the officer knew the dance well and guided Elizabeth through it effortlessly. Neither of them spoke, only watched the other, until the end of the dance.
"I must say, Lieutenant, you are a fine representative of His Majesty's Navy. Do they teach you to dance in the academy?" Elizabeth said with a smirk.
Before he could speak, they were interrupted.
"Well, well," said Commodore Norrington, approaching the pair. "It would seem the party is not a complete waste, darling?" He gave a false grin to Elizabeth, who ignored him. Then he turned to the young man.
"Newcastle, is it? A lieutenant in the third division."
"Yes sir," he said, inclining his head.
Norrington nodded, frowning slightly. Then, "Thank you for entertaining my lovely wife with a dance, but I believe it is time we retired." He extended his arm to her. "Elizabeth," he said, more command than question. Sullenly, she took his arm and followed as he left the ballroom.
While the last of the guests left, Elizabeth sat at her dressing table, brushing out her long hair. She wore an ornate silk dressing gown over her cotton shift that did not match the frown on her face. Another useless party for which she had been dressed up and paraded around like a child. She longed to be back aboard the Pearl where the men spent a night gambling instead of waltzing and swigging rum instead of expensive French wine. There were no corsets aboard the Pearl, either.
Elizabeth's mind wandered back to the officer and the way he had looked at her while they danced. He had held her firmly, not aggressively, and guided her through the dance rather than forcing her to each step. She leaned back in her chair and sighed as she remembered his deep eyes…
The door to the bedchamber opened abruptly, startling Elizabeth from her fantasy. She flushed as Commodore Norrington entered, feeling like a child who had been caught stealing a sweet.
Rather than ignoring her as he usually did, James Norrington approached his wife and laid his hands gently on her shoulders. He had never forced her, only taking her with frenzied passion once during their honeymoon. But usually he left her be, perhaps hoping she would come to him, which she rarely did, instead turning her back to him and falling asleep. But tonight he wanted more, and he wasn't willing to wait.
His hands trailed down her shoulders and collarbones onto her breasts, which he began to massage gently through her nightgown. She rolled her head back, momentarily lost in pleasure, before she snapped her eyes open and shrugged him off.
"Not tonight, James. I'm tired." She rose and moved away from him.
His hands clutched angrily on the back of the chair. "Always the case, isn't it?" He followed her and caught her from behind, wrapping his arms around her possessively. "But not tonight, my darling. I'm afraid you have no choice in the matter." He placed kisses down her neck and onto her collarbone, igniting her. She couldn't help but gasp.
"It seems," he said, between kisses, "that your body disagrees with your heart."
His hands glided down to her hips and his long fingers began to gather the fabric of her nightgown. Suddenly it was lifted over her head and she stood in only her pantalets. She turned around to face him, her arms crossed over her naked chest. He watched her as he slid his jacket from his shoulders and let it fall to the floor, his shirt quickly following it.
"Come now, darling," he said quietly. "Nothing I haven't seen before." He grasped her wrists and pulled her arms away from her breasts, catching her off-guard. He pulled her towards him and crushed her lips with his.
Elizabeth was too stunned to react. James Norrington had never been an aggressive husband towards her, never demanding her body when she was unwilling. But tonight, his passion bordered on violence as he assaulted her with his lips. His bare chest was hot against hers and she could feel him tighten against her stomach. He tilted his head down and his lips sucked at her neck. He drew small circles with his tongue, reddening her flesh with his teeth. Elizabeth's knees grew weak and she fell against him. Not bothering to pause, he simply lowered her to the bed, supporting himself over her. His mouth traveled down to her breasts and she arched into him as he roved her body with his tongue. Her hands tangled into his dark hair as he roamed further south…
With a loud gasp, Elizabeth's body trembled, a wave of pleasure washing over her. He had never offered such feelings to her before, instead leaving their encounters monotonous and brief. He had never truly explored her body before, and now seemed like the perfect opportunity. His hands stroked, his lips kissed and within minutes Elizabeth's body trembled and released with ecstasy.
She fell against the pillows, nearly delirious, as he moved back over her. The remnants of her pleasure were intensified as he buried himself in her.
"James," she gasped, clutching his shoulders. Her body pressed into his, overcome with painful pleasure. He pulled back and drove forward again, deeper than before, eliciting another moan from Elizabeth. James grunted as he continued to thrust, driving forward with increasing intensity. He freed one hand to grasp her thigh, lifting it to his waist and opening her wider. Each sound she made only increased his desire, and her gasping his name was nearly enough for him to reach his limit. Her body was clutched against his, begging for release, and she didn't have to wait long. With a few final thrusts that shook the bed and drove her body into the mattress, he felt a sudden rush of pleasure and released. She cried out, having reached her own climax a moment before, and felt his warmth fill her. His shoulders dropped and he lay, panting, on top of her for a moment before turning to his side.
His hand gently caressed her cheek as he turned her face towards his. He kissed her softly, his eyes shut. When he drew back, Elizabeth was alarmed by the gentle look on his face.
"I love you, Elizabeth. I only wish you could find it in your heart to return the feeling."
Elizabeth lay back, shocked by his sudden declaration. He sighed, stretching out his back, ready for sleep. Disarmed, Elizabeth was suddenly overcome with the urge to somehow express that, though she didn't love him, she cared about him. His arm rested on his bare chest and was surprised when he felt it move. She had lifted it and draped it over her shoulders, settling her head where it had been. Her hand trailed across his stomach and she sighed softly, shutting her eyes. He gently stroked her tousled hair as she drifted off to sleep, wondering what she would dream about.