The East India Trading Company storms Shipwreck Cove, scattering the Brethren and capturing Pirate King Elizabeth Swann. Proud and resolute, she refuses to be intimidated by Lord Cutler Beckett. But will she find herself giving in to the powers of temptation?
Author's Notes: I have eliminated Governor Swann's death from this story. You may think I'm taking the easy way out, but honestly, it's impossible to make this pairing work if Beckett is responsible for her father's murder! So, let's pretend that the Governor is still alive and well back in Port Royal. It's not particularly important.
Also, this is a sequel to my other Beckabeth story, Powers of Persuasion, and you MUST read that first! I hope those that enjoyed that story will like this one just as much.
Please, no flames.
Powers of Temptation
Chapter 1
Let the Games Begin
She never thought she'd have to face him again in this way.
Of course, confronting him flanked by soldiers was completely different than facing him alone and in her underclothes. But the calm, complacent way he regarded her had obviously not altered, and she felt irritation rising inside her. What was he thinking as he looked at her? Was he remembering? Or merely focused on the more important matters at hand?
How things had changed. Then, he was merely arrogant and ambitious; cold and calculating, true, but to all appearances, just a man in an office with delusions of grandeur. The tables had turned, indeed. He had revealed himself to be a force to be reckoned with, and she found herself sizing him up in a new light. Accompanying this was an anger; a deep-rooted, boiling rage at all he had caused, and all the havoc he'd wreaked.
He took several steps forward, and a ghost of a sneer passed across his face. He reached out and plucked the hat off her head, examining it.
"Charming accessory." He dropped it idly on the floor as he turned away. She followed him with her eyes, wishing looks could kill.
It had been horror, pure horror, sinking its icy grasp into her stomach as East India Trading Company soldiers descended upon the Brethren Court, shot after shot echoing in the enclosed space. Many had fallen, on both sides, but the soldiers proved to be too much for the small gathering and the pirate lords had fled. She could only hope they had escaped in the labyrinthine passages of Shipwreck City, and would do as she had advocated – ready every vessel and sail to meet Beckett's armada.
Pirate King. She was their leader now, and the first thing she'd done was gone and get herself captured. Brilliant. She hadn't even been able to give the order to prepare for war, before the soldiers stormed the Court. To all purposes, it appeared that Beckett had ordered the Pirate King, if captured, to be brought to him. It had taken four soldiers to hold her, and they'd had to chain her hands behind her back instead of in front. The expression on his face when she was marched into the room had been one of utter surprise, followed quickly by suspicion.
She remained silent as he paced ever so slowly, the workings of his mind, although unvoiced, somehow filling the room. Arrogant man that he was, he undoubtedly thought it impossible for her to be the Pirate King – was it because she was a woman, or the governor's daughter? Or simply because he considered her incapable of such a position? The thought made her angrier, if such a thing was possible, rage and indignation clenching her stomach. He gazed out the window over the darkened sea for several long moments, then turned, tilting his head slightly.
"You've certainly moved up in the world," he commented meditatively. "A far cry from the desperate young miss I last encountered."
"I demand you release me," she snapped in return, ignoring his observations. "If interrogation is your goal, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. I am Captain Swann, the Pirate King and leader of the pirate lords, and I will not be intimidated."
"My, you are proud of yourself, aren't you?" he mused, a slight smirk passing across his features. But he said nothing else, his thoughts focused more inward than on her.
She wished with all her heart that she had the gift for sensing another's thoughts and emotions that Tia Dalma had. She would give anything to know what was going on in his head. What was he planning? What scheme was he concocting? He'd just been handed a new and valuable bargaining chip, and although the idea of being his pawn aggravated her, she had to accept that at the moment, she was exactly that.
He raised his eyes to her and regarded her contemplatively. She felt her proverbial hackles go up, and she stared back at him fiercely, refusing to be evaluated like a inanimate piece on a chessboard.
"Brig," he said curtly to the soldiers, his gaze thoughtful as he watched them seize her shoulders. "You can mull it all over while I decide what to do with you. And trust me," he added, so softly she could barely hear him, "I will think of something."
The brig was the largest she'd been in – she was becoming a connoisseur – with a sturdy wooden bench and a surprisingly clean floor. Of the four cells, she was the only occupant, but she could hear soldiers' voices and tramping feet above her.
Her own footsteps matched theirs as she paced back and forth, resisting the urge to stomp like a petulant child. How dare he? His nerve was astonishing – his arrogance and calm superiority infuriated her. She had been elected Pirate King and was needed to launch the attack against the Company, but here she was, trapped behind enemy lines, leaving the pirates stranded with no clue what to do next. Surely they would remember her intentions, and sail out to meet Beckett's armada.
She sat down heavily on the bench, staring at her shackled wrists. She felt vaguely gratified that had considered her enough of a threat to leave her hands bound, but also irritated at his prudence. Attempting an escape would be difficult with the weighty iron shackles, and the very short length of chain between her wrists.
What was it with her and being captured? It was a ridiculous cycle, one she'd be glad to break free of. The arrest and imprisonment at Port-Royal, the short-lived stay with Sao Feng aboard the Empress, and now this. Not to mention that awful, dreadful, outlandish bargain she'd struck with Beckett in exchange for the letters of marque…
The memory made her want to throw something. She cursed herself for doing such an insane thing – but looking back on it, she could not see another feasible way out of the situation. It had been necessary, and she'd put the guilt and anger behind her… until now. Although the idea was disquieting, she would do it again in a heartbeat to extricate herself from this mess – but she doubted Beckett would take her up on the offer. She could imagine him sneering at her desperate proposition, and the very thought made her jaw tighten.
No. She would never do it.
She could not use sexual charms to finagle her way out of this. Nor brute force, she thought regretfully, feeling acutely the absence of her sword. Not body, not brawn; this was a battle of the brain.
She could do it as well as he could. He was not the only one with the power to persuade and convince, using words as a weapon to sway and provoke. The tongue was a deadly knife that could injure and kill without drawing blood, and he was not the sole possessor of such a weapon.
Two could play that game. And this time, she would not let him win.