Author's Note: Sorry it's been so long, lovelies. In short, depression has taken a heavy toll on my writing. Here is the next chapter. I don't know why I type these up at such ungodly hours, they're always rife with grammatical errors when I do. If you notice any, please do drop me a line. Also, the ports I use in the beginning, no fu**ing idea if that is historically correct. It's 2am, sue me. I'll fix them at some point. This is an AU fic and if we have to use made up ports, so be it lords and ladies. Anywho, enjoy and please do leave a review. xoxo
Chapter Three: Land Locked
The wind danced through the sails, sending them into a lazy ripple. The Caribbean Sea was moving slowly, too, which was just fine with Adora. She smiled slightly, at the horizon, leaning against the rigging she had climbed into. She gripped the rope, it was rough and the small hairs from it pricked at her hands. Her hands were by no means smooth; they were toughened from years on the sea.
They would make landfall by night and they were early, too. The Artemis and her crew had delivered the rest of their spices to Tobago after leaving Nassau and were now heading to the port of San Fernando. One of Adora's contacts, a man who had been in business with her father, was selling Spanish wines. Adora intended to buy as much as she could to sell and then make a profit from them. She was glad they were arriving to port early, so that no other captain could make an attempt on buying the spirits.
The sun was just beginning to set when she heard Rake shout, "Land, ho!" from the crow's nest. The warm winds passed over her face and she strained her eyes to look at the land. A few ships were harbored already, none that she recognized, nor none that posed any threat to her. They were landing soon. Adora was to secure a shipment of silks as well, legitimately, per say, in addition to the wine.
She was to meet with Sir Antony Gallo, a contact of her father's, to procure the silks. He was supposedly taking a holiday here with his family, but conducting business on the side. Adora mused it was likely his wife knew nothing of the trades, nor Gallo's constant affairs.
Taking a deep breath, Adora inhaled the sweet scent of the salty air. The sea was her home. She was more comfortable on her boat that she'd ever be on land. So she wanted a few more gulps of the clean, sweet air before the made landfall and the stench of town filled her nostrils. She hated land.
An hour later, they'd docked. There were so many people milling around you couldn't count them all. Her crew was excited but Adora was vexed. Crowds gave her a headache. She pondered vaguely if some sort of festival was afoot as they tied up.
She barked out orders in her strong, clear voice, as she headed down the length of the ship to disembark. Her crew was in full motion when she heard his voice. Adora whipped her head to the left as she was in midair, jumping to the dock below the ship. She nearly lost her balance as her boots made contact with the wood.
Gnarled Lars, who had already jumped down, looked at her queerly. She was sidetracked, trying to adjust her hat as she scanned the crowd. Charles. She'd recognize his deep, distinctive voice anywhere. Lars was speaking to her but she wasn't listening. Her blue eyes were busy searching the throngs of pirates and merchantmen.
"Captain?"
Adora squinted, breaking her concentration. She cursed roundly. She'd missed everything her second in command had said to her. Grimm walked up beside Lars, also looking perplexed at her odd behaviour.
"Everything all right, Captain?" another voice asked. The voice was nasally, high pitched.
"Yes, of course, Sir Antony," Adora recovered smoothly, turning to flash one of her brightest smiles at him.
The sot was obviously easily charmed; grinning at her recognition of his voice like a fool. He'd been besotted with her at their last meeting, though he had a new wife. Adora laughed, suspecting that was why he'd agreed to trade with her to begin with.
"Still working your pretty fingers to the bone on those rough waters, I see. You should really retire from all that and allow a man to take care of you and your ship. Marriage suits women much better than power." The merchant smirked at her, a sick, egotistic grin that instantly infuriated her.
Grimm gripped her elbow instinctively, before she could do more than contemplate drawing one of her many blades on this puffed up aristocrat. Grimm squeezed her painfully on purpose, to draw her back. Adora felt her rage begin to boil, a hot fire searing her insides. I can run a ship better than any man! I'll be damned if...
"This one doesn't take well to taming, Antony," came a low, silky voice from behind her.
Charles Vane brushed past her to stop in front of Sir Antony and shake his hand. Adora was torn between shock at seeing Charles, amusement at Sir Antony's face and the irresistible pull of desire she felt whenever she was near the other Captain.
Sir Antony was blustering; his face as red as the day was long. Lars had walked off to keep from laughing and all she could do was fume at Charles.
"What the fuck are you doing here!?" she spat at Charles, forgetting herself completely.
"Miss Graysen! You've been away from civilization too long. The sea has certainly made your tongue quite rough!" Sir Antony exclaimed. "I shall meet you at my counting house, where I do hope you'll behave better, as befits your lower sex." The man turned on his feel as strode away, looking for all the world like an offended peacock with a train of servants in his wake.
Chuckling, Charles leaned over on one heel towards her.
"Aww, don't take it to heart, Captain. We both know your tongue is...soft," Vane whispered, too close to her.
Still laughing, he bounced off his heel away from her and strutted away. She could hear his deep amusement.
Infuriated and turned on all the same, Adora had no choice but to follow. She didn't regain her composure for several minutes. By then, she had to run to catch up to Charles.
"So just how do you know Antony, anyways. You're a fucking pirate," she asked, letting her eyes rake over Charles as she struggled to stay wroth with him.
He really was a magnificent specimen of a man. His hair smelled of the sea with a trace of whiskey and something Adora couldn't quite define, something bittersweet and tangible. She would bet a barrel of her favourite rum that it was soft, though. She allowed herself to be consumed with a sudden fantasy of tangling her fingers in those dark locks while he pounded into her. She was so caught up in her daydream that once again, she missed what was said to her and slammed right into Charles' chest.
He'd obviously stopped short when she wasn't answering him and noticed her distraction. Snatching her wrist, the pirate pulled her into a nearby, dark alley. He twisted her arm painfully and she cried out involuntarily as he yanked her arm up and behind her back.
"You're going to have to find a pair of balls if you want to continue to play in a man's world, Captain. You claim you're as strong as any other man but you show yourself as weak as any other bitch. Panting with lust and unable to pay attention to a single conversation. You'd better get a grip, Adora." Charles Vane looked at her, darkly.
Struggling against the uncomfortable grip, she bit her lip in anger.
"Any other man would be flattered that I was even interested!" She practically yelled at him. She knew she was acting childish.
"Take more of an interest in your affairs and less in me. Save the flattery for your buyers."
With that he released her arm suddenly and left her in the dark alley. She grasped her wrist, wincing at the soreness in her shoulder. She wanted to run after him, yell at him, kiss him, but he was right. Dammit, he was right. She stood very still, drawing in deep breaths despite the stench of the alley; collecting her wits.
Once she was sure she was completely in control once again, she exited the alley with her head held high.
The meeting went badly. Somehow, Vane had swindled the silks contract right out from under her. Sit Antony had practically beamed as he told her. Rather than lose her cool and rail at the two men who had ruined her day and an entire contract, she calmly left the counting house and went straight for the whore house.
First, she searched for Gnarled Lars. She found him at a back table, playing at dice with a gaggle of pirates. By the next round he was at her side, though. If nothing else, her crew was loyal and always ready to help.
"Captain?" he asked.
"We've lost the silks contract. Glad I hadn't told the crew, it was a side venture. But we still need to offload the sugar and spices we have left and get a good price for them. Load the wine, too. Go round up Grimm and Joshua. Then find a Mr. Everlen. Tall man, missing an arm. Bald. He'll probably be lurking down at the docks. I want to meet with him. We have business to attend to," she said ominously.
The smell of fear mixed with cheap liquor, cunt and dirt. Adora landed her gloved fist into the man's face again, a smile on her own as he groaned and blood dripped from his nose. The whore was crying on the bed, cowering in fear.
"Shut her up, Lars, or I will," Adora growled. She threw the woman a menacing look for good measure, flexing her fist.
Lars walked over to the bed and tossed a silver on to the covers. "Silence or she'll have you in that chair next, girl," he warned in a low voice.
Once the prostitute had stopped sniveling so audibly, Adora turned her attention back to her captive.
"How did Charles Vane steal my silks contract?" she asked again.
Her captive was short, pudgy and his hair was graying. His clothes reeked of alcohol and too much time spent in the brothel. The stubborn man spat at her. Blood and spittle landed on her boot. Lars made to grab at the man, who was tied to a simple wooden chair. Adora held her hand up, a sick smile spreading onto her face. Lars hesitated.
"Ain't tellin' you nuthin', bitch," the pirate said.
Adora pulled a silk scarf from her pocket. It was gray, a watery colour, and soft. Still grinning, she dabbed at the surprised man's face, smearing the blood about.
"Hmmm," she said, lightly, still smiling.
Letting the expensive scarf flutter to the floor, she stepped back slowly, crossing her arms. For a long moment she merely stood looking at him with a smug smile on her face. She could feel his fear intensify, his doubt creep into every inch of his being. When she was satisfied at the sweat pouring off his face and the wide-eyed look of terror, she acted. She swiftly reached out a booted foot, kicking the chair leg out from under the pirate. The chair belted forward from the man's weight. His hands were tied behind his back, so the man had no choice but to allow the fall, trying to turn his face away in time. He let out a muffled cry as his cheek and chest slammed hard into the wooden floor. She could hear the air let out of his lungs and knew it had to be painful.
Adora stepped up to him, pushing his face back with her blood spattered boot.
"Clean it," she growled.
The man was sobbing quietly in pain and fear.
"With...with what?" he asked. "My hands are tied. I can't...I can't reach the scarf," he said miserably.
"Well, then I suppose you'll have to lick it clean, won't you?" she said coldly.
She twisted the heel of her boot against the floor, the tip pressing into the man's face.
"My patience is wearing thin," she said angrily. "I have business to attend to and you've dirtied my boots."
Still sniveling, the man scooted himself and the chair closed to Adora's foot as best as he could. His tongue flicked out hesitantly, blood and mud coating his tongue. He gagged and Adora pushed the tip of her boot into his open mouth to silence him.
After several excruciating minutes, she finally withdrew and nodded to Lars. Her crewman walked over, bending down to pick the man up by his shoulders and haul man and chair back up. The sot was still choking and gasping.
"Thank you, thank you, I'm sorry," he cried. Snot was dripping from his nose.
"Ready to talk now, bastard?" she asked.
"Yes! Yes! Please don't hurt me again. I'm sorry!" The man pulled at his restraints. "Cap'n got the tip from Miss Guthrie back in Nassau. Her dad is movin' back up in the world, seems and so he been helpin' Eleanor again and..."
"Enough!" Adora snarled. Her face was dark and she gripped her dagger hilt.
"Cut him loose," she said to Lars.
"Be sure to tell your Captain not to fuck with my contracts ever again," she began.
"Why don't you tell him yourself?"
Adora whirled around at the sound of Charles' voice. She hadn't even heard the door open. Despite her fury, the sound and sight of him instantly aroused her.
Charles was leaning against the doorframe. He had changed since the meeting. A small cigar hung loosely from his lips, smoke swirling around his finely sculpted face. He was wearing a dark blue shirt; open in a V to his waist. A black satin waistband was tied tight over dark leather pants. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
Adora put her hands on her hips, trying not to dig her fingers into her sides too hard. She hated how this man could make her react.
"You bastard," she said simply, her voice cracking with anger.
Both the whore and Charles' crewman fled from the room, followed by Lars who looked at her quizzically. She nodded to him.
"Go on. Tell the crew they need to have their asses back on my deck at dawn the day after tomorrow. We set sail with or without them."
Lars nodded at her instructions and shut the door behind him. Adora clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to punch Vane.
"What did I tell you? You don't focus enough on your business affairs. You're so busy trying to prove yourself that you overlook everything else." Charles said, dropping the remainder of the cigar onto the wooden floor and smashing it with the tip of his dark boot.
"And just what the fuck have I overlooked? Other than a liar and a thief," she said hotly.
Charles chuckled again. She hated that she loved the sound of his laugh, even though he was laughing at her.
"You banked on the fact that Antony wants to fuck you for your deal. You didn't bargain, at all. Even though he is a vain man, he's still a businessman. He'll follow the money and not his cock in the end." Charles chastised her in a low, calm voice.
Adora felt her fingers tingle, her face grew hot and uncomfortable. She wasn't used to criticism bothering her. Certainly not from a man. The very idea of it disturbed her. She was a captain. Of her own ship. Free of the rule and reins of any man.
"I shouldn't have to bargain. I had a deal with Antony. A legitimate deal, through my father," she spat back at Charles.
She started to shove past him to the door. She'd had enough. He didn't move but caught her wrist. She stopped on her toes, rocking back on her heels. Clenching her fist, she started a smart remark. Charles leaned over; with his free hand he brushed the hair way from her ear, gently; too gently for such rough fingers, such a rough pirate. Adora forced herself not to shudder in delight, held a steel gaze straight ahead at the door.
"Antony made a deal with a pirate, Captain. You're a pirate just like the rest of us. Hot blooded pirate..." he whispered in her ear, before placing one lingering kiss behind her earlobe, on her neck.
"Oh," she uttered before she could stop herself. She felt her tense body unravel the moment his moist, soft lips met her skin. Her eyes snapped shut in pleasure, the spot on her neck was searing hot.
But then he was gone. Adora was left with both burning desire and burning questions no one but she could answer.
"Go. Get out," she said simply to the shocked man.
She pulled on her clothes, searching for her favourite knife that was never far. The still naked man gaped at her as she tugged on brown pants and her boots before bothering with a shirt.
Huffing in irritation, she stood, looking at him. Her ample, soft breasts poked out of a cream over shirt as she swiftly tied on her belt.
"Don't. You're a decent enough fuck but I'm leaving port. I want you gone."
She had picked this one because he looked nothing like Charles Vane. Short, dark rough skin and bald. Everything Charles wasn't. He smelled of oranges and distant places. Unfamiliar and just enticing enough to satisfy an itch. She had spied the man in the tavern, told him what she wanted and rented a room at the brothel. She hadn't even let him on top. She had ridden her pleasures out on him, ignoring his overly dramatic moans of desire to focus on allowing herself to come. She had; it wasn't exceptional but it was a much-needed release. She'd used him for a day and a night to get her frustrations out of her system before they were to go to sea again. Now she wanted a hot bath and her ship.
The man grumbled as he pulled on his own clothes. Adora pulled open the door and called for one of the serving wenches. She went down to the main room and ordered a hot bath and some food and sent word to Grimm to begin gathering the crew.
As the whore poured the last bucket of hot water into the tub, Adora stripped.
"Can you have these washed, doll?" she asked, stepping gingerly into the scalding water.
"Of course," the girl replied, smiling brightly. Adora tossed her a silver piece from the pocket of the pants she was emptying.
Once the wench was gone, she sank into the steaming water, leaning back against the sheet draped over the wooden tub. She scrubbed herself raw; the steam and the smell of the soap soothed her nerves. They'd gotten a very good price for the last of the spices and sugar and had loaded the Spanish wines with no issues. The crew had enjoyed themselves while in port and as for herself, she hadn't killed or maimed anyone else, nor run into Charles again.
The soap smelled lightly of coconut and _, a flower that was native to the island. It was an intoxicating mixture, sensual and calming. The smell of the flower tickled at Adora's memory. It was just strong enough to be a constant hint. Something...something about a perfume maybe? Crushed flower petals in tiny glass vials, a woman's soft voice, swirling skirts, the sun in her eyes. She tried to grasp the memory as she stood from the tub, rivulets of water coursing down her smooth skin. Either the heat from the water or the exertion from trying to reach for the sudden memory threw her off balance. She stumbled, falling over the side of the wooden tub. She caught herself with her elbow and palm; but not before getting a splinter in the soft center of her flesh.
"Fuck!" she yelled in pain. Water soaked the wooden floor and she was chilled. Cursing again, she fumbled her way to standing and yanked the towel off the bed. Her palm was bleeding; crimson droplets falling to the floor, some of them pooling with the water already there. Grumbling, she tore a small piece of the towel off and wound it around her hand. She could try to remove the splinter later, when she was safely aboard her ship. When she was home.