Madame, will you talk?
A Taboo fic. James Delaney, Lorna Bow, others of the League of the Damned.
Approaching the Azores and his meeting with Colonnade, James Keziah Delaney has a use for Lorna Bow that she may or may not welcome, he needs her to play his wife.
AN: I fell in love with Taboo from the very beginning of the very first episode and cannot wait until the next season. I don't own anything of course and write out of admiration for a great production, cast and crew.
The title of this story is from an old English folk song, 'I will give you the keys of heaven', cited in a collection from 1893, although I think it was probably around in one version or another for a lot longer than that. The quote was also used as the title of one of my favourite books (at one time) by Mary Stuart, which is where I first came across it.
…
After spongeing herself off with the help of a bucket of hot water and some soft scottish soap until she was free of the layers of grime and blood that had begun to feel as permanent as James Delaney's tattoos, Lorna climbed into the luxuriously deep, hot water that filled the muslin lined copper hip bath Atticus and French Bill had set up for them in the captain's cabin. She sighed, feeling clean all over for the first time in a long, long while.
She took a deep breath and submerged, her long golden red curls floating out like seaweed, surged up again with a groan of delight, took up a sea sponge from the table next to the bath and smoothed it down her arm and over her breasts, going gently over the almost healed wound on her side. The sunset glow coming in through the tiny window and the soft light from the lanterns on the tiny table fixed to the wall shone on her clean, pale skin, casting little rainbows on the soap bubbles floating in the water. It felt like something very, very close to heaven and she was profoundly grateful that James had decided to allow the use of some their precious fresh water for something as frivolous as a bath.
The wind was light and the sea calm, and there was just a slight rise and fall of the water in the bath as it rose and fell with the swells under the ship. Lying there was like floating naked in the sea itself, only warmer and thankfully with none of the sharks that had taken to following the ship in recent days.
Sighing in satisfaction, she lay back and closed her eyes, enjoying the water on her skin, the little waves lapping her nipples and fluttering against the curls and sensitive flesh between her legs. She opened her knees wide to let the warm, delicious tide in, feeling wanton and almost decadent doing such a thing in James' own cabin, near his bed. A memory sent the blood surging through her veins of his hand on her shoulder, his blue eyes looking into her soul and almost without her knowing, the sponge strayed lower, slowly stroking her belly and lower still, feeling almost like a hand… his hand.
She swallowed hard and pulled the sponge back, there'd be time later to revisit that thought when she was alone in her bunk and under her blankets, Pearl would be returning at any moment and the girl already seemed to be aware that her feelings for James were very far from motherly. Lorna had felt her watching them sometimes, smiling when her son by law came to sit with her on deck to drink coffee and talk plays and politics to help pass the long, warm days of their voyage. She didn't think Pearl would say anything though, she seemed more interested in whether they were enjoying themselves.
Lorna did enjoy his visits, very much. She enjoyed their conversations as well as his company. He had travelled to far places, and was well read, well educated, and the complexity of his mind, the glint of excitement she saw in his eyes when he talked of the new world was intoxicating. He was like a draught of strong liquor, and he made her senses swim whenever she was near him.
He seemed to have become calmer now that the battles in London were over and they were on their way. There were more battles to come of course, England and the Free states of America were still at war, although they were all on the other side now. The stars and stripes flew above their heads, not the Union Jack. He was still the same in other ways though, secretive, mysterious, keeping his plans to himself until the last possible moment.
They were only days away from the Azores and Ponte Delgado now. Then after that, if they lived long enough they would sail to the Americas, to the new world. James had a plan of course, and a use for each of them. He had slowed the ship and arranged the water for the bath for a reason. He always had a reason, a purpose, even if he was the only one who knew what it was.
She wiggled her toes and wondered vaguely what her part in his plan would be, then decided that she was feeling too dreamily comfortable to think much more on it.
He would tell her when the time was right.
She had almost drifted off to sleep when the door opened and Pearl came in with two more buckets of hot water from the galley. She balanced herself easily as the ship rolled, but then Pearl lived up to her name, she seemed to have been born for the sea. She was glowing, her smile wide and carefree, skin sparkling with the sun and spray, hair a nimbus of bright golden curls as she put one bucket down, lifting the other to pour with a flourish and a cheerful half courtesy. 'Here we are then, miss, this'll top you up good an' proper.'
Lorna smiled back. 'Thank you, Pearl, I'm nearly finished so it'll still be hot when it's your turn.' She tipped her head back so that the water flowed through her hair, over her shoulders and down her back, making her shiver with delight. Her eyes fluttered shut, 'Oh that's so good.'
Pearl laughed, the sound young and carefree, 'you're welcome, miss, but it'll be a while till I get a turn, Mr Delaney said that he needed the tub too, then Mr Godfrey.' She shrugged, the smile fading a little, 'although poor Mr Cholmondeley still has to settle for blanket baths.'
Lorna frowned, yes, poor Chomondeley. He was improving but it was agonisingly slow…then the thought that James would sit where she was, of his tattooed, muscular form inhabiting the same space took her breath away, sending an electric tingle all the way down her body. It was intoxicating, almost like the thrill of being on stage with an audience shouting out her name. She opened her eyes, wiping a few drips away with a fold of muslin, 'we're getting close then?'
Pearl nodded, 'French Bill says another few days and we'll be at the Azores,' She put one bucket down and picked up the other with a flourish and a rustle of muslin, pouring the water in. 'Won't it be nice to see dry land again? And to eat something besides fish, turtle soup and salt beef.' Her lip curled, 'I'll be happy if I never have to eat turtle soup ever again.'
Lorna sighed with pleasure as the water streamed down her back, 'I don't mind it, although I have to admit I've been dreaming of Brace's roast fowl.' She looked up at the other woman. The last rays of sunlight had caught her hair, turning it into a glowing golden mass, although the smile and bright eyes possibly had more to do with her frequent nocturnal activities amongst the crew. Even Atticus with his devotion to James seemed to favour Pearl although he hadn't yet forgiven Helga for her betrayal of James. At night he disappeared below decks with the others and the sound of whispers, laughter, groans and the heavy smell of sex floated away with the wind.
Freedom seemed to suit Pearl very well.
Lorna sighed again, stretching her legs out in the water, and for a moment envy of that freedom churned in her belly. It was very different for her, being Mrs Delaney and a lady meant that everyone in the crew treated her like a piece of fine porcelain, although out of respect for her status as Horace's widow or respect and fear of James it was difficult to say. Then she had a thought. 'Pearl?'
Pearl put the bucket down and started laying out drying cloths and Lorna's dress and underthings, what was left of them anyway. James hadn't been able to magic anything else for them to wear yet, nor had there been anything in the holds of any use in making suitable clothes for females, they'd need to purchase supplies in Ponte Delgado. 'Yes miss?'
Lorna hesitated, but she had to ask, although it was a more difficult subject to raise than she'd imagined.'The men, do they treat you well? Are you happy with how things are?' She looked down, embarrassed and ashamed she hadn't even considered the issue before, 'I mean, things are different now, you don't have to…'
Pearl's laugh rang out, relaxed and carefree. 'Thank you, miss, but don't you worry, I'm very happy with the way things are. Mr Delaney had a talk to all the men on the first day while you were still abed,' Her eyes were soft, 'he said that on his ship and in the new world we were all free, and that if any of them did anything that I didn't say yes to first he'd cut their balls off and use them as bait for the turtles.'
Lorna laughed out loud, snorted and slipped, going under for a long, spluttering moment. She pushed herself up again, brushing red gold curls away from her eyes, her heart glad to hear that James had thought to do that, although she shouldn't really be surprised. He thought of everything. She'd seen his occasional kindnesses before and Pearl was one of his own now. 'I'm glad.' She wrung out her hair, reached out for a dry cloth, then paused, she had to ask. 'Has he… I mean, does he…'
Pearl shook her head and smiled. 'Oh no miss, he hasn't, not once, even though I'd be very happy to oblige if he were to ask.' She handed her the cloth, eyes dancing, 'I like things fine the way they are, but just between you and me, French Bill's been talking about heading out west once we get to the new world and he's asked me to go with him.' Her face grew dreamy, far away, 'we'll go adventuring to the wild places in the mountains.' She grinned, shaking her head, 'I always wanted to go travelin' like the gypsy folk, and they say there's gold lying on the ground in some parts, just lying there, waitin' to be picked up. Can you believe that?' She picked up the two buckets again and headed for the door. 'Anyway, if you're nearly finished I'll go get more hot water for Mr Delaney, miss, I've got another big pot heating up in the galley for him.'
Lorna doubted there was gold lying around anywhere, but didn't have the heart to deny Pearl the possibility of it. She stood up and stepped out of the bath onto the planked floor, wrapping herself in the thick wool cloth and smiled, 'I'm sure he'll appreciate that, Pearl, and I hope you and French Bill find adventure and some of that gold.'
Pearl bobbed a little curtsy as she left, her grin the last thing to leave. 'Me too, miss.'
Alone again, Lorna let the cloth fall away from around her and started to rub herself dry with it. There was a light breeze coming through the windows and she turned her face to the warm wind feeling it turn deliciously cool as it flowed over her still damp skin, the salt in the air tingling on her lips and making her hair fall in a curling, thick mass around her shoulders as it dried.
She let the cloth fall to the floor, wanting more of the wind on her bare skin, her eyes drifting shut as she lifted her arms and turned on the spot, body gracefully curved, lithe, moving in a rhythm with the roll of the ship as she pictured herself a dancer in ancient times, or a spirit from one of Shakespeare's plays, the Tempest maybe. Or the fairy queen Titania herself. Or perhaps a native princess, such as the one she played when Horace saw her perform, that made him want to ask her to marry him. Although she had quickly realised that the man she married had won and lost his own native princess and thought he'd found an echo…
Memories of her dead husband floated through her mind like the breeze, light, uncomplicated. Horace had been a clever man, complex and learned. He had shown her many things and she had done her best by him, and in a way she had loved him, although those feelings were nothing compared to what she felt for his son, James.
She froze, arms curved in a dancer's pose, one leg turned from the hip, the foot on pointe. Speak of the devil. James was there, she could feel him, feel his eyes moving over her like hot brands.
'Madam, will you talk?' That familiar, deep rasp of a voice came from the door although he sounded a little strange, distracted…
There was a song that began with those words, she knew it. The tune was still popular at village fairs and on small stages, and would've been when he was a boy. She turned to face him, cheeks burning, hands going automatically up and down to cover her breasts and the junction between her legs although her body was far from wishing to behaving modestly. Her nipples had responded to his voice as well as the breeze, springing into life like pink, jutting pebbles against her soft skin of her fingers and wrist. Her core and clit had responded too, loudly demanding attention and she could feel moisture pooling, heat bursting out against the palm of her hand. Her fingers itched to touch and bring sweet relief but she pulled them back and hovered, not sure how to proceed. She wasn't prepared…
He was standing in the doorway, one hand on the latch, still in coat and hat with the power of his presence flowing into the room like a tide and his eyes bright blue beams staring at her from under the shadow of the brim.
'James.' Damn it she sounded breathless, 'I didn't hear you knock.'
He cleared his throat, his eyes on her face now, tongue darting out over those lush lips leaving them shining, tempting. 'My apologies. Pearl told me you were finished.'
She tore her eyes away from his mouth and made a mental note to thank Pearl later - or chastise her, she wasn't sure yet. Then she bent to pick up the cloth, pretending nonchalance although every nerve was vibrating, every inch of her skin aware of him.
His gaze followed her as she moved, open and blatant admiration and something darker, more intent in it now, the little room seeming smaller with his masculine force and vibrant energy. He took a step inside, closing the door behind him, the lock clicking as he turned the key without taking his eyes from her. 'I have always thought it a great shame that in the west we insist on covering great beauty with harsh fabric and solemnity.' His voice was lower now, deeper, like dark honey.
Lorna held the cloth up in front of her, feeling her cheeks flush even more as he moved closer, 'would you have us all walk around naked then?'
His lips twitched, eyes glinting with amusement, 'I specifically mentioned beauty, Madam, so definitely not all. I can think of many who perhaps should never, ever be seen naked, in fact for whom there should be a law mandating the wearing of clothing.'
Lorna held back a laugh with difficulty, pretending to be stern. 'There are such laws in fact, sir, as well as convention and climate providing us with clear guidelines.' She was flirting now, her voice playful, wanting more, wanting him…
He was looming above her now, those lips almost close enough for her to kiss if she stood on tiptoe. He leaned towards her. 'Then the law and convention be hanged, I will make new laws,' He reached out a long finger to stroke her cheek, 'because you are beautiful, and I will make it a law that you should walk around naked just as long as I am close by your side to keep the mob at bay.'
Her heart was beating so fast it was like a thunder in her ears and it was suddenly hard to breathe. 'If I am naked, then so you should you be.' Her voice was a whisper, and her words seemed to hang in the air between them like they were written in gold letters upon a banner, a declaration of something that had been growing between them since their escape from London and the death of his sister. But even before that there had been something.
The finger froze in place, his whole body still, his eyes searching her face, then a small sound escaped his throat, 'Is that truly what you wish?'
She nodded, dropping the cloth and kicking it to the side away from them, standing proud and straight before him, eyes proclaiming her certainty. 'Yes.'
He sucked in a breath, tongue flicking out again to wet his lips, his eyes burning down into hers. 'We will soon be reaching a wild country with few conventions and even fewer laws, where the best protection for you will be as my wife.' He tucked a long, bright curl behind her ear, then tipped his head down to trail his lips along the delicate curve of her jaw, whispering in her ear, 'I had intended to speak to you today, although I had not imagined our conversation would be like this.' His fingers followed the line of her neck, down to her throat towards her breasts, his touch gentle, lingering, circling, leaving trails of fire behind them. 'Does this mean you would be willing to play the part?'
She shivered, the sensations almost overwhelming, 'I am already once Mrs Delaney by marriage, so the name will at least be familiar.' She moved closer, inviting more of his touch.
'Then you accept?' The fingers moved lower, his palm cupping her breast, his thumb circling her nipple, a low grunt of satisfaction escaping him when she moaned, leaning into his hand.
She reached up to touch his mouth, fingers exploring the full, soft lips, the wiry, salt stiff curls of his beard. 'Yes, I accept.' Her lips followed her fingers and she kissed him once, then again, feeling his mouth open under hers, the taste of him warm, sweet and salt with the tang of the sea and a slight seasoning of tobacco, his scruff a delicious tickle against her skin. 'As long as I am satisfied with the rehearsals.'
He laughed, deep in his throat and his arms circled round her like tight, steel bands, his hands on the firm, springy flesh of her bottom cheeks, lifting her off the ground and pulling her against the hard, muscled length of him, guiding her legs around him so she was pressed against the thick ridge of his cock. 'I'm used to working very, very hard when I perform, Mrs Delaney.' His voice was hoarse now, amused but heavy with a growing and urgent hunger, 'and I will ensure you are completely satisfied.'
She gasped as the meaning in his words curled in her belly, excitement surged through her like a wave building and building until it was as high as a mountain and ready to break.
He let her down, stepped back a little then shrugged out of his coat and waistcoat, flinging both onto one of the bunk beds at the side of the room, his beaver skin hat going on top of them. His shirt was left gaping at the neck, revealing the smooth black banded skin of his throat and the heavy, toned muscles of a chest etched with more bands and exotic black patterns. The shirt was gone next, yanked over his head and flung away, then the boots, and she almost reached to help him with those because it was taking far, far too long to get them off, then finally his hands reached down for his belt, undoing it, his pants dropping away and kicked to join the rest.
Lorna watched, hardly breathing, her eyes wide and mouth open at the sight of the man stripped bare in front of her.
He was shining with sweat, powerful, arms heavy with muscle, legs strong and taut, thighs banded with black, the whole fierce and savage, his tattoos and scars flickering in the lamplight as if they were moving, alive. But he didn't move, he just stood there.
She was trembling, the tension inside her almost unbearable as he stood there, still, silent, his eyes somehow looking somewhere else, seeing something else. She reached out, 'James?'
James Delaney stood still, staring at the lovely woman in front of him, the first woman for whom he had felt desire since the last, disastrous time with Zilpha with the image of his mother, her face clay white streaked with black lines, raven feather cloak fanned out around her shoulders and her black eyes glaring in coldly incandescent fury hanging in the air like a curtain between the two of them. He hesitated, unwilling to subject Lorna to the possibility of the violence and anger of his ghosts.
But the black in black eyes closed, there was a sigh in the air that caressed his cheek like a kiss, like a feather on his skin and Salish was gone as though she had never been there, either not concerned or even perhaps approving of what he did with Lorna Bow. He was not certain which.
All he knew was that she was gone.
'James?'
Lorna's voice came to him as from a distance and brought him back. He took in a deep, sharp breath then moved forwards to meet her, taking her hands and bringing them to his lips, kissing her fingertips.'I'm sorry, sometimes…'
Lorna nodded, he seemed so hard, so strong, so absolutely in control most of the time, but she had seen him like this before, in London, had seen his vulnerability, the pain inside and if there were such things as ghosts and spirits, then he saw them. 'I understand. Have they gone now? Your ghosts?'
His eyes met hers, deep enough to drown in, then he blinked. 'Yes, they have. For now.'
'Good,' She stepped closer, the heat from his body like being next to a fire, 'then I believe you said something about ensuring my complete satisfaction?'
He choked off a laugh, then his eyes lit up and he let go of her hands, his own sliding down over the lush curves of her breasts then down over her flanks and bottom, pulling her closer. He leaned in to kiss her, his words humming against her lips. 'Yes I believe I did…'
…
AN: thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. Part 2 will be up soon, :) cheers, Magpie