He is only a day out of Tortuga when he spots the lone ship flying the white flag of peace. They had spotted the ship an hour before and would have sailed right by, if not for the clearly placed call for help. As they had gotten closer, they could definitely tell that something was wrong with the ship: all of the sails are gone. He can see the bones of a much older but beautifully dark ship, but without the sails it is useless. The bare bones of the ship lays prostrate before the sea, its spindly masts resembling nothing more than a plucked chicken. Why would someone steal a ship's sails? Or why would someone remove all of their rigging to lure a ship within reach? All very good questions that he intends to find the answer to.
They approach from the south, coming up from behind the ship in case the white flag is a trap. It wouldn't do to be broadsided on his first real trip out as Captain.
"Only pull in the sails half-way in case we have to leave in a hurry. Have the remaining crew ready to board." He tells his first mate as he goes running down the stairs to the main deck and into his cabin.
He grabs his sword from out of his desk and slides it into its scabbard. His pair of dueling pistols fall promptly into their holders. And with a cool pat to the knife in his boot, he is ready to go. This may be his first go as captain of a ship, but he's been in plenty of fights before. And it wouldn't be the first time someone had flown a white flag only to sneak an attack.
He comes back on deck to see them almost on top of the ship. His men lay gathered on the right side, half carrying grappling hooks and the other half holding their weapons out in preparation for battle. But as they come in broadside, they are met with an eerie site: an empty ship. It could just mean all of the men are down below, waiting to surprise them, but somehow he doesn't think so. With all of the sails gone, it is also apparent that all of the rigging and supplies are gone too. It is like someone has come by and picked clean anything that wasn't tied down.
The grappling hooks go sailing into the air, creating a pattern of thunks as they attach to the other ship. His men work silently to pull the ships closer, nervously eyeing the empty ship. If it wasn't for the grunts of the sailors as they pulled in their rope, and the fact that he could see them, he might as well be on an empty ship too. They are all nervous and on guard, talking kept to a minimum.
The two ships finally meet with a clunk and he joins his men in jumping over the railing to the other's fore deck. He signals to his men to spread out, and the men scrabble over top part of the ship for any sign of life. They quickly ascertain that no one is above deck and come back to the fore deck.
"Mooney, you take your group and go down from the fore." He tells his first mate. "The rest, follow me."
His first mate nods grimly and leads his group to the loading dock at the front of the ship. They'll remove the netting and enter the hold through the front. He leads his men to the stairs leading below decks, when they pass the cabin's quarters. For some reason, he stops. Not a sound emanates from behind the closed wooden door, but a strong tingling sense rises on the back of his neck.
"Tyler, take the rest of the men down. I'll be there in a second." He tells the second mate.
The tall former slave, rescued and freed by Derek on a long-ago trip to lesser Tortuga, gives him a questioning look but quickly leaves to do his bidding. He doesn't know why he wants to check out the Captain's quarters alone, but he does. If there was a room full of men in there, they would have heard it by now. Captain's quarters on ships this size are only made to fit a half dozen full grown men; maybe a dozen crunched into every available corner.
He takes one of pistols out of its scabbard and places his other hand on the door. He pauses to listen for any signs of life, but doesn't hear any. He opens the door slowly, careful to search the room as the light slowly illuminates the cabin. There seems to be more signs of life here. The dark wood of the rest of the ship has been accented by blood red walls. Middle Eastern beddings and décor spruce up a decidedly dank Captain's desk and bedding. The two large pieces of furniture don't leave much room for anything else except for the two or three chests lining the walls. He is about to open the door fully, when he hears the click of a pistol next to his left ear. He turns his head to find himself face to face with the barrel of a pistol and a pair of the most beautiful green eyes he has ever seen.
Her hair is long and luscious with waves that settle in rivulets down her back. It's obvious that she hasn't had a bath in quite some time, but her hair still shines with sun streaks and her face posseses a healthy glow. In fact, she is much more tanned than what he would expect a lady to be, but she is definitely a lady. Her hair may be hastily tied back from her face with a ribbon, with tiny wisps of hair falling free, but her gold satin and lace-beribboned dress is expensive, and she carries herself with pride and a direct stare that only the upper crust possess.
"Who are you?" She asks in a low voice that sends tingles down his back.
He can't let a pretty face and a well-formed chest distract him though (don't think a pistol to the head kept him from checking out her assets). In the silence of the room, he lets her hear the cock of his own pistol that has been aimed at her stomach this whole time. Her eyes go wide, so he has a chance to ask instead, "Who are you?"
Her eyes narrow and without moving the pistol, she says, "I asked you first."
He sighs with an amused smile and draws back a little. Still keeping his pistol locked and ready to fire, he offers her a small bow and says, "Captain Derek Shepherd at your service."
Unexpectedly, she falls back onto a chair he didn't see behind her, and says with a sigh of relief, "Thank god."
"You were expecting someone else?" He asks in confusion as he takes a better look around the room. The ship is obviously old, but everything not tied down is fairly new. The bedding still has a barely used look to it and the gossamer fabric of the curtains and bed-netting is still whole and bares no ratty edges. Even the candelabras and accoutrements (beeswax candles, not tallow, and rolled parchment to name a few) shows that whoever lives here has more than a few pennies to their name.
"The king of England." She says with a roll to her eyes. "No, I thought the pirates had come back, you dolt."
"Do I look like a pirate?" He asks, a little offended. He may have grown up in the Caribbean, but he has always been a man of the law. Thievery and lawlessness have never appealed to his sense of justice.
She gives him a long look, raking his body with her eyes. His body wants to stand up straighter and chest wants to puff out, but he keeps himself level and non-chalant. "I guess not." She answers with a little quirk of her lips.
While keeping her in his side vision, he walks over to her desk and sees an open parchment, like she had been interrupted in writing a letter. Large, feminine loops make their way across the page, but it is too far away to make out. "You didn't answer my question." He asks as he turns around to casually sit on the edge of the desk. It gives him a good view of her and the door, but he's far enough away that he won't be distracted.
"And which question was that?" She asks with another quirk of her lips. She's playing with him. She knows what question he asked. He can see it in the amused way her eyes sparkle at him. Just why is she playing with him? A normal lady would be quaking in her boots at having been ransacked by pirates and left for dead. There's more to this story than meets the eye.
"Ah, I've been remiss." She says as she stands and drops a small curtsy. His eyes are immediately attracted to the elevated mounds of her breasts as they dip before him, but he averts his eyes before she can rise. "Lady Meredith Grey."
He can't resist pushing himself off of the desk and taking her hand in his. She seems a little startled at his close proximity, but she doesn't fall back when he places a small kiss on the top of her hand. He looks up when he does it, to see her staring at the placement of his lips on her skin. He can feel himself making a wicked grin, as he rises and says, "Charmed, I'm sure."
This only seems to inflame her though, and she snatches her hand back to glare at him. She can't say anything because it was everything that is proper. She still manages to cross her arms huffily (pushing her delectable breasts up even more he might add), and demands, "So are you going to help me or not?"
"Help you with what?" He asks, pretending all ignorance.
"Help me get off this damn ship. I've been stranded here for days without a proper bath or a decent thing to eat and all you seem to want to do is ogle me." She replies huffily, unclenching her arms when she realizes where his vision has strayed.
He guesses she does have a point, but for some reason he is just having too much fun at the moment to let this interlude end. He isn't being too gentlemanly, but she certainly isn't acting like a lady either.
He straightens up in his stance, unclicking the barrel of his pistol to put it in his holder, and offers, "I'll help you out any way I can if you'll just do one thing for me."
"And just what would that be?" She asks with no small amount of suspicion.
"Kiss me."
Suggested Soundtrack is 'Conquest' by the White Stripes.
He was out to make a conquest
Didn't care what harm was done
Just as long as he won
The prize
Derek stands before the free-standing oval mirror in his cabin fastening the last few buttons on his black and gold-trimmed jacket. For some reason, he feels a little naughty tonight. This particular jacket is fitted tighter than the normal jackets of the day. The tight fit accents his sword-built shoulders, drawing the eye along his shoulders and down his biceps to the gold-buttoned cap sleeves. His under-vest and pants are black too with the only addition of color being the gold lining along the outer jacket and the buttons on his under-vest and sleeves. Bits of white linen at the sleeves and neck, plus white tights, might make a lesser man seem feminine, but on him it just gives a little bit of accent to the devastating picture.
Maybe it was the remembrance of the almost-kiss he had shared with Lady Grey, but he's taken extra-special attention with his appearance tonight. They're sailing through the night, having long ago transferred all of her belongings and welcomed her aboard. Luck would have it that she was sailing for England too. He hadn't heard the full particulars of what had happened to her crew, but he would remedy that tonight at dinner. He wonders if she'll wear the same gold dress that she was wearing earlier. The green of her eyes had set off the gown almost like a pair of emerald adornments. He can still see the way her pupils had dilated when he had asked her to kiss him earlier.
She was just another conquest
Didn't care whose heart was broke
Love to him was a joke
'til he looked into her eyes
"I can't." She says breathily, as his face comes within inches of her. Her eyes say otherwise though, open wide and flickering back and forth between his eyes and his lips.
"Why not?" He says in an almost whisper, his body so close to hers that he can feel the fabric of her dress resting against his knees.
"I'm going to be married." She answers with a gasp as he moves even closer. So close in fact, that he can feel the heat of her breath on his face and the rub of her nipples against his chest.
She licks her lips, and he dives in to kiss her, saying only "So am I."
He can practically feel the nectar of her sweet lips, when he is interrupted by Tyler's voice saying, "Captain, we've got no one on board."
He had pulled away instantly, rendering Tyler's statement immediately untrue when he steps aside to reveal Lady Grey. To say that Tyler was surprised that a lone lady would be residing on a ship by herself would be an understatement. Was Tyler surprised to see his Captain trying to steal a kiss from a pretty girl? He doubted it. Let's just say he's never been lacking of female company. He makes one more adjustment to his neck-cloth and knows he's ready for his dinner with Lady Meredith Grey. And as he smiles into the mirror, he thinks maybe an over-due kiss or two too.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And then in the strange way things happen
The roles were reversed from that day
The hunted became the huntress
The hunter became the prey
After having sponged herself clean, Meredith drops her shift back over her head. There hadn't been time to heat water for an entire bath before dinner, but she had managed enough to wash her hair and get the dirt off. She had wanted to make it as believable as possible. Too bad it had to turn into her not looking as well as she had wanted to on meeting him. The gold dress should have done the trick though. They had talked about only leaving her there for a day or two, but it had finally been decided that they would have to give a couple of days leeway. That way it would look like the pirates were long gone, and there wouldn't be any use in looking for them.
She puts her right leg up on the nearest stool, pulling her ivory garters up her leg with exacting care. These things were expensive, and she doesn't want to ruin them on their first turn out. The other leg quickly follows and she revels in the feel of cold silk on her legs. She quickly grabs the matching ivory under-skirt, stepping into it and pulling it up over her shift. It's a good thing she knew how to dress herself, or she would be in a heap load of trouble right now. The corset comes next, already tightened as much as it will go, so that she only has to tighten the strings a small amount to give her the small-waisted look of the day. Not that she doesn't already have a small waist, it's just somehow small waists and high breasts are what carry the day. Derek sure seemed to appreciate them.
She looks at herself in the small half-mirror positioned on the nearest vanity, thankful for thoughtfulness that Derek had displayed in outfitting the cabin for his future bride. It wasn't quite to her tastes, but the ivory, gold, and blue bedroom was quite pleasing to the eye. A rather large bed for a ship, perhaps even queen size, was set up along the bow with the vanity she was now standing in front of the right wall and a quite nice writing escritoire on the other side of the room. Too bad her sister wouldn't get to appreciate it. Now should she take this cabin or the more masculine captain's quarters? It would be larger, but this room is probably prettier. Decisions, decisions.
She pulls the remaining piece of clothing, an elaborately decorated ivory cotton evening dress, over her head. It probably wouldn't do in the dazzling ballrooms of London, satins and silks being the preferred apparel there, but she kind of liked it. She pulls the long skirt down over her under-skirt, twisting a little to get the fabric to float around her legs. The long sleeves and the lace at her wrists make her feel almost like a real lady. The front ruffles and ribbons lend the dress an almost whimsical design that was definitely not her. She really should do something about her hair, but she decides to leave is free and flowing. If not for the hair, she could be going to her own wedding. In fact, she was. She had told him she was going to be married. But she hadn't told him it was going to be to him. She puts the finishing touches on her hair and walks out to meet her fate.
Now you know who made the conquest
She, with all her female guile
Led him helpless down the aisle
She had finally made a conquest
