A bit more plot in this chapter...don't scroll down to the smut now ;)

Hobbs slept fitfully that night, his mind filled with images of what had transpired between himself and Clara on board the Renown. He had waited a discreet ten minutes before following her off of the ship, lest anyone had been watching. He wouldn't like to guess what someone like Randall might say if they had been seen together at that time of night.

As he tossed and turned, the sheets bunched around his sweaty body, he wrestled with the rights and wrongs of it all. When he broke it down, there were so many differences between them that it seemed virtually impossible for anything further to come of it. He was thirty-five, a mere gunner from a poor background. She was barely twenty, the daughter of his superior and, most likely, destined for marriage to an officer. He considered those on board the Renown and thought that any match would most likely be promoted with either Lieutenant Hornblower or Lieutenant Kennedy. Buckland was out of the question. The captain merely tolerated him for the bumbling idiot that he was and would never, Hobbs was sure, dream of encouraging such a match. Clara's marriage was not a thought he relished. The prospect of her, lying with another, provoked feelings within him that he couldn't quite give name to. He had no claim to her, nor she to him, and yet it troubled him beyond measure.

As morning broke he rose, washed and dressed, and ate a meagre breakfast. He found he had no appetite and, despite the disapproval of the boarding house mistress, left with only a few slices of bread and cheese in his stomach.

He wandered the streets of Portsmouth, drinking in the sights and smells of his hometown, reliving the memories of his childhood spent running up and down from the town to the docks and back again, staring at the ships that were docked there and wishing, with all his heart that he would have the opportunity to sail on one. He regretted not one moment of his life or the choices that he had made and yet…

As he made his way back down towards the docks, the local market traders were setting up. He wandered amongst the stalls which sold everything from clothing to jewels to lotions and potions and smiled as the traders called to each other. No matter how much he enjoyed the sea, he always enjoyed coming home to the familiarity.

"Jewels for your pretty lady, sir?"

He stopped and turned at the sound of a woman's voice and found himself face to face with a dazzling array of jewels that shone in the midday sunshine. Reds, blues, greens…they completely dazzled him to the extent that he had to momentarily screw his eyes shut against the brightness. When he opened them again, his eyes were immediately drawn to a delicate silver necklace with a bright blue sapphire dangling innocently at the end.

"You like that one, sir?" He looked past it to the owner of the voice. She was an old woman, her grey hair pulled back into a fierce looking chignon at the back of her head. Her clothes were worn, but she had a look about her, as though she herself had once seen better days. "It's a beauty," she pulled herself up onto her feet and unhooked it. "Said to bring the wearer great luck."

Hobbs ignored her attempt to sell it to him on the vague promise of some ancient legend and took it from her, holding it in his hands, allowing the sunlight to catch it. The jewel reminded him of the colour of Clara's eyes. Before he realised, it was purchased and nestled securely in his pocket, a gift that he would give to her before they set sail. It was not, he told himself, a token of love and affection meant to secure her, but merely a trinket from a man to a pretty woman. There was no harm in that.

As he reached the docks, his eyes searched out and found the Renown, still bobbing gracefully, her sails a vivid white as they fluttered high above. His eyes took her in, tracing down her graceful lines, marvelling as he always did at her majesty. Perching himself on a nearby stone wall, he put his head back and, closing his eyes, let the sun warm his face, until a familiar sounding laugh brought him back to reality with a sudden start.

Pulling himself upright, he looked down the dockside and saw Clara in the distance, dressed in a summer gown of the palest green, her hair loose around her shoulders, the sun turning it into a cascading fire. She was talking to an older woman and, every so often, he would catch the flash of her smile as she turned towards him. He wondered if she had seen him and if she would come to him. He felt his arousal grow just watching her and his breathing become shallow as he recalled the sight and sound of her, her hands clawing at him, her breath carrying his name…

"Ah, Mr Hobbs!" He was jolted out of his reverie by a familiar voice from behind and, turning, he saw Captain Sawyer standing behind him, watching him with a knowing smile. "Even knowing her as we do, she is still a joy to behold."

Hobbs leapt to his feet and glanced from the captain to Clara and back again, suddenly concerned that his actions had perhaps given his feelings away. "Sir?"

"I'm referring to the Renown."

"Oh…oh yes sir," he recovered quickly, "yes, indeed she is."

Captain Sawyer came and stood beside him, "You revere her so much that you spend your shore leave down here watching over her?"

"No, I was merely…" Hobbs trailed off as a smile crossed the captain's face. It seemed sensible enough simply to agree. "Yes sir."

"As it should be. You're a man after my own heart, Mr Hobbs and your feelings are no doubt the reason for your devotion to me all these years. I know that you, as I, love nothing more than to be standing on her bow as the waves break over us."

"Indeed, sir."

Captain Sawyer straightened up. "Unfortunately, we shall not be boarding her as soon as we would like."

Hobbs looked at him, "Sir?"

"Bad weather in the channel dictates that we must hold off another day, despite how implausible that sounds," he said, looking up at the clear sky. We shall aim to set sail on Tuesday instead." The captain shook his head, "It is regrettable but unavoidable. Although our remaining in Portsmouth for another evening does, of course, have some…compensations."

Hobbs followed his captain's gaze and watched as Clara bid goodbye to her friend and began making her way along the dockside towards them. As she approached, he thought that Captain Sawyer had never been so right.

"My daughter insisted that I invite you to dine with us this evening," the captain continued. "She feels somewhat embarrassed that she hasn't had the opportunity to see you this visit. I know how much she enjoys your company."

If there was any hint of suspicion in the captain's tone, Hobbs did not notice it. His eyes remained on Clara as she stopped in front of them. "Father, Mr Hobbs," she gave a small curtsy. "It's such a beautiful afternoon, don't you think?"

"Indeed it is," Hobbs replied quickly.

"But not enough to prevent us from being unable to sail," Captain Sawyer added.

"Father, anyone would think that you do not relish the prospect of another day in your daughter's company," Clara chastised him. "You have been away so many months already. Surely another day cannot be too difficult for you to bear?"

"Of course not my dear, of course not," Captain Sawyer replied. "But your comments are rather without foundation seeing as you have hardly been in my company at all since my return."

Clara glanced back to where the woman she had been talking to was walking away in the opposite direction. "Mrs Berry has asked for my help with regards to organising the gala and I would be no lady at all to turn her down."

"Yes, well I do hope she is not trying to entice you into a life of servitude as a school teacher."

Hobbs cleared his throat conspicuously, becoming somewhat uncomfortable to bear witness to such a disagreement between father and daughter.

"Mr Hobbs," Clara turned to him, clearly glad of the distraction, "My apologies. Has my father extended the invitation for dinner tonight?"

"Yes he has," Hobbs replied, "and I would be delighted to accept."

Clara clapped her hands, "I'm so glad!"

"Yes indeed," Captain Sawyer agreed. "I really should let Elizabeth know…" he looked into the distance, "she really does hate it when dinner guests turn up without her knowledge…"

Hobbs tore his gaze from Clara's face and looked at his captain with confusion, "Elizabeth?"

"My wife," the captain said, "Good gracious Mr Hobbs! We haven't been away at sea that long!" He grinned, inviting his gunner to share in the joke.

"Father…" Clara spoke hurriedly, "why don't you head back to the house? You'll be wanting a quick nap before dinner, won't you?"

"A nap?" Captain Sawyer exclaimed, seemingly put out by the suggestion, "Captain James Sawyer does not need to nap before dinner! Heavens Clara, whatever next?" He shook his head. "But I do need to speak to Captain Manning before we set sail…" he pulled out his pocket watch and squinted at it. "Perhaps I could do that before dinner. Yes, indeed I think I will. Good day, Mr Hobbs. I look forward to your company this evening." He dropped a light kiss on Clara's cheek and then strode away along the dockside.

Hobbs turned to Clara again and saw the worry marring her features. "Elizabeth?" he repeated his earlier question. "I don't understand…"

"It's nothing," she interrupted quickly. "Sometimes, late in the afternoon…" she trailed off and he got the distinct impression that she didn't quite know how to finish her thought.

"But your mother has been dead for some years," he probed.

"I'm aware of that!" she glared at him.

He instantly backtracked. "Forgive me, Clara, I did not mean…"

"Let us forget it," she said, smoothing her face into a smile and stepping closer to him. "I for one am pleased that you will have to remain in Portsmouth for another day." She lowered her voice so only he could hear. "My aunt and uncle tend to retire early and as for Father…" she left the suggestion hanging.

Hobbs swallowed hard, fighting against the urge to lay hands on her right there in front of everyone. "I fail to see how…"

"Don't worry," she replied, leaning in and brushing her lips against his cheek. "I will find a way." She moved back and grinned broadly at him. "I'm a woman of many talents, Mr Hobbs, many talents. Until this evening then."

He watched as she turned and made her way back up the hill towards the town, knowing deep within that he had to have her.

XXXX

"Good evening, sir."

"Good evening," Hobbs greeted the butler at the door of Clara's uncle's house at seven sharp, dressed for dinner in his best uniform. It had been a short walk from the lodgings to the house and he had noticed the admiring glances he had drawn from the women that he passed. Some were women of good character, some were not and, in years gone by he would have sought out their company as good food and better brandy loosened him. Tonight, however, there was only one woman he wanted to see.

"Follow me, sir," the butler said, "the others are waiting in the drawing room."

Hobbs followed him across the magnificent hallway, decorated with various works of art and stag's heads, to a door at the far end that was slightly ajar. Even before he reached it, he could hear Clara's voice as she argued mildly with her father. As he approached, he straightened his jacket and waited to be presented.

"Gunner Hobbs!" The butler called out automatically as he pushed open the door. Hobbs stepped into the room and saw Captain Sawyer standing at the fireplace.

"Mr Hobbs, welcome!" he said, coming forward and extending his hand. "It's very good of you to join us this evening."

"I'm very honoured to be invited, sir, thank you," Hobbs replied, shaking his captain's hand. "I had forgotten what a fine house this was."

"Well I can take no credit for that," the captain replied, turning to a gentleman sat in a large armchair not five feet away. "You'll remember my brother-in-law, Colonel Fitzwilliam of His Majesty's Regiment."

"Of course, sir," Hobbs stepped forward as the other man rose. "It's an honour to meet you again."

"Quite right, quite right," the Colonel replied, shaking his hand perfunctorily. "My wife, Harriet." He gestured carelessly at the woman standing behind his chair. She was dressed in a heavily brocaded gown in a, frankly, hideous shade of gold. Her dark hair was piled up on top of her head so tightly that it seemed as though her face had been stretched to accommodate it.

"Mr Hobbs," she stepped forward, curtsied and extended her hand, which he obligingly kissed. "It's a pleasure to have you in our home again."

"Thank you ma'am," he replied.

"Last but not least, I suppose."

He turned at the sound of Clara's voice and saw her standing at the window, watching him with barely veiled amusement. For a moment, he found he couldn't speak, so breathtaking did she look in purple damask which could only have come from the finest dressmaker in London. The gown had a full skirt that billowed out around her legs, but moved tightly upwards, cinching into her waist and drawing his eyes to her bosoms, pert and overflowing. His eyes locked on the delicate necklace that rested just on top of them, rising and falling as it did with every breath and found his gaze quite mesmerised by it.

"One could hardly forget you, my dear," Captain Sawyer said. "Please engage her in some form of conversation, Mr Hobbs, as she is irritating me beyond measure this evening."

Hobbs stepped forward and kissed her outstretched hand. "May I say how enchanting you look this evening," he said, keeping his voice low lest the sound of his desire be evident to everyone else in the room. Indeed, it was all he could do not to drag her into his arms and ravish her with his mouth, an action which he felt sure Captain Sawyer would disapprove of.

"You may say," she replied, drawing her hand back. "And I must say how fine you look in your uniform. Though I must confess to being unable to imagine you…out of it."

"Clara!" he exclaimed softly, glancing behind him and observing that the others had not heard her words.

She laughed, "Calm yourself John. I am nothing if not discreet."

He was prevented from saying anymore by the calling of dinner and, linking his arm with hers, he accompanied her into the dining room and found himself sitting opposite her. In all honesty, he would rather have been beside her, for his only view now was of her cleavage and he found he could not tear his gaze away. The food was delicious and momentarily distracted him, as did the conversation which flowed around him and generally consisted of Captain Sawyer and Colonel Fitzwilliam agreeing with each other about everything and anything and Clara vehemently disagreeing whilst Mrs Fitzwilliam said nothing.

"Mr Hobbs, have you ever met a woman so keen on an argument before?" Captain Sawyer said as dessert was placed in front of them. "Really Clara, if you are ever to win a husband you will need to learn to be a little more discreet with your opinions."

Clara smiled sweetly at him, "But Father, you have taught me to have my own opinion and say what I mean. Are you now saying that that is wrong? Surely you would not have me as some meek and mild wife who never says boo to a goose?" As she spoke, she glanced quickly at her aunt whose eyes remained on her plate. Hobbs felt a smile pull at the corner of his mouth. Her fire and determination was arousing him beyond belief. "Is that what you would wish in a wife?" she continued, directing her question at him.

"Ah…" he floundered, "well…"

"I think it quite impossible for you to be meek and mild," Captain Sawyer interrupted. "Your mother always says that you were born with the ability to walk, talk and think for yourself. I'm sure when she returns from her trip to Scotland she will agree with me."

A sudden silence descended over the table and, his desire momentarily forgotten, Hobbs glanced at Clara, whose smile had slipped from her face. She glanced at him and then down at her plate. "My compliments to Mrs Baker this evening," she said, changing the subject. "This dessert is quite divine."

"Indeed it is," Colonel Fitzwilliam agreed. "Capital, just capital."

The conversation began to flow easily again and, as brandy was being served, Mrs Fitzwilliam made to rise from the table. Hobbs automatically got to his feet with the other men, but Clara remained where she was, watching her father with an expression of open defiance.

"Clara?" he said, seeing that she hadn't moved.

"I'd like to stay, Father, and converse with you men" she said. "I'm sure Aunt Harriet is tired of my tedious anecdotes."

"Please go to the drawing room," he said, in a tone Hobbs recognised from years as one of his crew. Clara paused and he watched as a look of anger crossed the captain's face. "Clara!"

She rose to her feet and moved away from the table, following her aunt, and slamming the door as she left.

"Sometimes, I despair of her," Captain Sawyer said, as the men retook their seats. "How she will ever marry…"

Hobbs accepted brandy from the butler. "That is your intention then, sir? To have her married?"

"This is no life for her, here in this house with only my sister for company. She will be twenty-one next January and it's high time she had a husband and a home of her own to look after as opposed to…to running around with Mrs Berry the schoolmistress. No," he said decidedly, "she must marry and when we return from this latest voyage to the West Indies I shall make it my mission to find someone suitable for her."

Hobbs held back from offering any opinion and the conversation turned to naval matters for the next half hour until they rose to join the women in the drawing room. When he entered, he saw Mrs Fitzwilliam alone next to the fire, absent-mindedly plucking at the sleeve of the chair. His eyes scanned the room, but there was no sign of Clara.

"Where is she?" Captain Sawyer sighed. "If she has taken to her room in a fit of temper…"

"James, do give her some credit," Mrs Fitzwilliam said. "She may be wilful but she is not ill-mannered. She has merely gone into the garden to take some air. She asked me to accompany her, but I am quite fatigued this evening. Indeed I may turn in earlier than usual. It's this heat, it's so draining."

"I see," the captain said, turning to Hobbs. "Mr Hobbs, I wonder if you would be so good as to accompany my daughter as she takes her evening constitutional. I fear she may come to mischief without some form of chaperone even in ones own garden."

Hobbs' heart thumped in his chest, "Of course, sir." He tried to make his movements as slow and deliberate as possible but he felt as though he were running out of the drawing room, across the hallway and out into the front garden of the house. His feet found the path that would take him around to the back and he pushed his way through overhanging trees, and a gate in desperate need of repair, before emerging into the acreage that the Fitzwilliams' clearly called a garden. It was badly overgrown, the care taken of the interior of the house clearly not extended outside, and as he scanned the expanse he initially found no sign of Clara.

"John!"

Turning at the sound of his name, his eyes took in a fairly battered looking summer house, its paint peeling and chipping, and saw Clara peering around the entrance. She gestured to him and he hurried across towards her, stumbling over the uneven ground in his desperation to touch her. She stepped back quickly as his feet found the rotting step and he pursued her inside, forcing her against the far wall until her back was pressed against it. Without waiting for an invitation, he pushed his body against hers and kissed her fiercely, his tongue forcing her lips apart and plunging repeatedly into her mouth. She responded to him with equal ardour, knotting her fingers in his hair and pulling him even closer to her, her mouth working frantically against his. His face began to ache, so he pulled back from her and bit down on the flesh of her neck, causing her to cry out as his fingers fumbled with the neckline of her dress, fighting with the constricting material, eager to feast on the treasures buried beneath.

"I couldn't stand it any longer…" Clara breathed above him. "I couldn't sit there and make conversation with my aunt when I wanted…oh….when I wanted…" She let out a moan of pleasure as he freed one of her breasts and hungrily clamped his mouth over her nipple.

She tasted sweeter than he remembered from even the night before. Like peaches and cream, honey and almonds, strawberries and sugar…his mind raced, almost to the point of oblivion, as he reached under her heavy skirt and felt upwards for her knickers.

"Don't tease me this time," she groaned, "just…please…"

Hobbs had no intention of teasing her. He wanted her, needed her, needed to feel himself encased inside her…he found the lacy material and yanked it down with one hand whilst fighting with the buttons on his trousers with the other, freeing himself as much as possible, and praying that he would be inside her before he came. Grabbing her forward, he slammed her back against the wall, causing her to cry out, hitched her legs up around his waist and drove into her as though his life depended on it. Clara cried out and immediately clamped her legs tightly around him, her hips thrusting forward instantly to meet his, angling her body slightly so that his pelvis was pressing against her most sensitive spot.

"Oh God…" he groaned, burying his face in her breasts as the sweet friction threatened to render him speechless, "Oh Lord…Clara…"

"Deeper, deeper…" she groaned, her movements quickening. "Harder…oh God, John, don't stop. Please…please don't stop…it's all I've been able to think about…all I want…" He thrust into her as hard as he could, feeling his legs ache and his chest burn with the effort. Her words turned into cries and her cries into high pitched mewing as he felt her approach her climax. He found her mouth again and bit down on her lower lip before seeking out the warmth of her mouth again with his tongue. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her, her lower body still bucking against his, an animal-like groan tearing from her lips. "Yes….yes…"

Hobbs felt his groin spasm as he poised to come and, wanting to prolong the pleasure as long as possible, he quickly withdrew from her, turned her in his arms and pushed her towards a tattered looking steel table nestling in the corner of the room which had no doubt played host to genteel tea in the garden in the past. She half-turned to look at him, no doubt confused, but before she could protest, he grabbed the back of her hair and forced her to bend down over the table before pulling up her skirts, roughly forcing her thighs apart and thrusting into her again.

Clara let out a scream and, for a brief moment, he thought he had hurt her, but then her hips began jerking back against him as she tightened herself around him again. Stretching herself out, she reached and gripped the far edge of the table as he placed his hands on either side of her thighs and pummelled hard against her.

"Ah…" she gasped, her voice strained, "yes, yes…oh God…more…"

"Do you like that?" he asked, his voice coming out as barely more than a gasp.

"Yes…" she whimpered, "yes…" She cried out again as he reached under her body and pulled her back towards him, cupping her left breast with one hand and pulling her skirts up at the front. With insistent fingers, he found her core and began stroking it firmly, assertively, knowing that it would drive her to the brink, increasing his rhythm at the same time, aware that in a few moments he was going to spurt violently inside her. "Oh God…" she groaned, arching back against him. "John…"

He came then, a white hot heat burning him from within, his whole body shaking with the sheer force of his desire for her. He unloaded inside her, drawing back slightly too early, or too late depending on your preference, causing a sliver to run down her thigh. "Sorry…" he said, fighting for breath, gathering her back towards him and burying his face in the crease of her neck. "I didn't mean…Clara…beautiful Clara…"

The echo of Clara's own cry was still dissipating in the air as she sagged back against him, her weight heavy in his arms as it seemed her legs threatened to give way under her. She reached up with one arm, pulling his face round to hers and kissing him passionately. When he drew back, he noticed the sparkle in her eyes and the blush on her cheeks. "Well…" she said smiling, "I would never have imagined…"

He laughed and turned her in his arms, "You're not the only one who can surprise, Miss Sawyer."

"Obviously," she leaned in and accepted his proffered kiss. "All those months at sea, Mr Hobbs, must have made you very…imaginative."

"Well spent, alone in one's cabin, fantasising."

Clara laughed and then regarded him seriously. "Come to me tonight."

Hobbs frowned, "What?"

"My room is at the far end, the last window at the back. I'll leave it open. Come at midnight." She pressed her lips against his again. "I believe we have fornicated on enough furniture, Mr Hobbs. Now I want you to make love to me."

"But…" he paused, "Your father, aunt and uncle…"

"They won't hear a thing," she reassured him. Stepping back, she pulled her skirts down and rearranged her bodice as best she could. "Come, we should get back to the others at least, before they come looking for us." Then she turned and skipped out of the summer house and ran back across the grass to the house.