AN: Thank you so much for the reviews, they made my day and made me write way faster than usual :) So here is chapter four, I really hope you'll like this one.
Anne Bonny had known Charles Vane for years and during those years she had learned that he was not an unintelligent man, he was not the feral dog some people painted him to be. He was not irrational by any means, unless it concerned one Eleanor Guthrie. Just two days ago he'd had his dagger on her thigh for daring to suggest that the bitch made him act like an idiot. Charles always made smart choices, but never when it concerned that woman. So when a rumor that was whispered in the streets of Nassau came to her knowledge, she knew she wasn't going to tell him. The rumor had it that Eleanor Guthrie was pregnant. No one seemed to know whose child it was, and there were guesses flying around, more and more ridiculous every passing hour. Of course Anne Bonny didn't really know Eleanor Guthrie at all, and for all she knew it was Flint who had fathered the child as one drunken sailor had told everyone willing to listen to his theory in the tavern. But Anne still had a funny feeling that it indeed was not Flint, Mr. Scott or Woodes Rogers who was the father to be. No, she was willing to bet money on Charles Vane being the father. The rumors of Eleanor's state had clearly not reached Charles yet, for he was acting like his rational self, and not the mad man he turned into when Eleanor was on his mind. Anne was certain that the rumor mill always quieted when Charles stepped into the room. People were afraid of him, that was for sure. And if anyone else besides Anne suspected that he had indeed gotten the Queen of Thieves pregnant, then no one had been spreading that rumor too eagerly. So Charles was in the dark, and Anne had no intention of fixing the situation. They had much more important business to consider, and they needed him focused. She spat on the ground and cursed the day Charles Vane had laid eyes on Eleanor Guthrie. The two of them together were nothing but trouble. Well, chaos more like. Like a looming hurricane that you knew was coming, and could only take shelter and hope for the best.
Eleanor could feel something was about to happen, something quite big. It was the feel in the air, the way people were acting. She knew the signs, but she kept quiet. She sat in the governor's salon from morning till late at night and advised on things Rogers needed her insight on. She gave away only trivial information, and he was bound to notice that sooner or later, but so far she had managed not to give away anything substantial. Alas, she did not even know what was about to happen, so she was not lying, just withholding information. Night fell and she finally got to rest her aching feet, still wondering when that something big was going to happen. She needn't wait for long though as only after an hour a loud explosion filled the air. Then men shouting, running around with their weapons, children crying, just utter panic. She slowly got out of the bed and went to her window, only to see an English man of war on fire. The sight brought a faint smile to her face, and a name danced on her lips, for who else could be behind all this.
Charles was also smiling, already far away from the ship engulfed in fire. It had been too easy to introduce fire to where they stored their powder. All too easy. They may be fighting an uphill battle with the English, and they might not win the war, but they surely had won this round. He smiled at their success and gulped down some rum. Now they could celebrate. That would be the last night Charles Vane was blissfully ignorant of the secret Eleanor had been literally carrying around with her.
The fire that had caused the explosion on the English ship had caused quite the chaos during the night and the next day. Nothing could be salvaged of course, and they were unable to locate the perpetrators. Eleanor had to sit with Rogers and his advisors for the whole day and long hours into the evening. She was barely helpful at all, but for some reason Rogers insisted. Perhaps he was afraid he had dragged her to the other side of the ocean for nothing and wanted to keep an eye on her. She did not know and she did not care. They could not execute her, that was all that mattered. Of course it would be ideal that they would have no such intentions even after the child had been born, but right now it would have to do.
It was close to midnight when she finally walked out of the governor's house and directed her steps toward the tavern. Max had not exactly been happy to allow her to reside in there, but she had agreed none the less, and that was all that mattered to Eleanor. She did not want to live too close to the English, she already had to spend almost every waking hour with them. As she reached the door, a whiff of the scent of the sea filled her nostrils. After a moment of hesitation, she turned her back on the door and started walking toward the beach. She had not properly been on the beach in months, and now this urge to go and stand on the beach with her feet in the ocean filled her. So she walked as long as she reached the quiet and peaceful place that held so many memories. They all flooded to her mind as she decided she needed to go further into the sea. She started undressing herself, to spare the expensive dress from the salt water. She stepped out of the dress, standing on the beach in her white see through shift. Anyone could have seen here and yet she did not care. The sea seemed to be calling her name and she needed to feel it around herself. She walked on, so far that the water hit her breasts. She breathed out in relief as she let the ocean take hold of her and float her body. The hum of the ocean in her ears as she let her head meet the waves felt like a welcome. She was right back where she belonged.
After what felt like hours, she swam a few strokes closer to the shore and got back on her feet, the wet fabric of her shift clinging to every curve of her body, leaving her practically naked.
"I really shouldn't be surprised that you not only evaded your execution, but also managed to get back to Nassau," an all too familiar voice rasped in the shadows. That was a voice she had not heard in months, but one she would recognize anywhere. It sent shivers down her spine and every little hair on her skin was standing up. With a deep breath she turned her eyes on the man who was taking slow steps toward the sea, to her. Even from this distance she could smell the scent of smoke and rum coming from his way. He looked the same as ever, in clothes that he always wore, his hair long as it had been through all the years she had known him. His stance was confident, yet relaxed in that 'I don't give a fuck' way that only Charles Vane could perfectly master.
She had expected to feel somehow different when she would see him again after all that had happened. Yet it felt eerily familiar, this was the man who she had loved, who would always stay with her in some way, the man who she carried in her soul. And now she carried his child. The conversation that was about to happen made her taste bile in her mouth. Eleanor Guthrie was not a woman who got scared easily. But in this moment, she was so fucking scared she scarcely could open her mouth to form words.
"Well, they couldn't have executed me anyway, so getting back here was rather easy," she said with the most neutral tone she could manage, considering her heart was in her throat and she felt sick due to nervousness. Her words made his eye brows rise just a hint, not sure what she meant. So she walked closer, the water now only reaching her knees. The shift she was wearing provided no privacy. He could see everything. Everything. His gaze travelled from her eyes to her breasts and then finally to her belly. He didn't seem to react in any way. He stood there and stared at her stomach with an unchanged expression. Then suddenly his eyes lifted to meet hers again and for a good while he just held her gaze.
"They couldn't execute you," he rasped, still unmoving, but realization filling his eyes.
"Not for five months," she almost whispered and brought her hand on her belly out of habit. That small gesture suddenly made his expression waver. Eleanor could have sworn she saw a hint of anger touch his features.
"So, who's the lucky bastard?" he asked with such indifference in his voice that it felt like he was twisting a knife in her heart. Had she not had such a thick skin she might have cried at those words.
"Who do you think?" she asked, her voice slightly higher. He shook his head.
"How should I know who you fuck." A slight tremble travelled through her body. She told herself it was because of the coldness of the night air against her wet body, but in reality it was his words. Words that made her fight back a tear that threatened to find its way down her cheek.
"I may be the Whore of Thieves for the English, but I really thought you knew me better." His lips turned into an insincere smile, a sneer more like.
"I thought I knew you, Eleanor. Then you turned that key in the lock. You could have been fucking any number of men for all I know." His words felt like a whip across her back.
"I think you knew me better than I thought you did. You got out of there. You saw it coming didn't you?"
"Yes, I did. Doesn't change the fact that you still turned your back on me the first chance you got," his voice was calm, but there was something below the surface and the unsaid 'again' lingered in the air between them.
"I did. And then I wanted you dead for what you did to retaliate. I wanted to see the life drain out of you. I hated you so much, Charles," she said chocking on her words a bit when his name finally came out her mouth. Next, it felt like she was screaming.
"I hated you! I wanted you dead! And then... I realized there was a life growing inside of me and I realized how much I loved it already. That I loved a fetus more than he ever loved me! So yes, by all means call me a whore like everyone else does. I don't give a damn. I'm having this child, and yes it is yours, Charles. No other man has touched me since I was twenty-two years old! So unless by some miracle I've been immaculately impregnated, then congratulations, you're going to be a father," she finished and walked out of the water, grabbing her dress with her from the sand and leaving Charles Vane on the beach. Finally, she allowed the tears to fall down her face.
