Christmas Visit

Jack could not recall a night since his leaving of here when his skin had been more alive to another's touch, nor one where his senses had come together in such a way. Nor had there been a moment that he could recall when his need for the one beside him had been greater, but where the waiting had been less irksome, or more pleasurable.

Horry was everything he had remembered and then more; a skin of velvet and a mouth of silk twined around him, hair cascading down to tangle with his own and trap his fingers in its abundant shine. Each touch opened doors he had thought barred, and brought with it a feeling of warmth that went beyond the aching fire that raged in his belly or the hard furnace of his impatient horn. The shivers called up by soft fingers on chest and belly was both familiar and new, and very sweet, and there were times when he held his breath and thought that he would never breath again if in not doing so he could keep hold of the moment. Things he had done countless times before were re-discovered, and he could only smile into her eyes when he saw the same rediscovery in her face; for him it was more wondrous still, the years falling away and with it the staleness of custom. That she wanted him for himself alone was no doubt some part of it, the knowledge that she did what she no more than what she wanted, for choice and not need, that her obvious joy in him had nothing to do with the thought of a meal or a roof for the night, nor with having a pirate lord as a trophy in her bed. Until that moment he had not realised, or admitted, how cynical his port side coupling had become.

By the small hours of Christmas day they were drowsing comfortably, passion spent for the moment, laughing at memories of the past, some shared, some not.

"Who would have thought that a peach would lead us into such iniquity?" Horry said rolling onto her side and staring to play with one of the long braids now trailing across his chest.
"Iniquity do you say?" he caught her hand and kissed each finger by turn, "did you pray for forgiveness then? " He grinned at her, dropping his voice to a purr, "For if you did then the prayers were not very efficacious as I recall matters."
She sighed with mock regret,
"I was such an innocent I did not know that I had done anything I needed forgiveness for."
Jack raised his head and kissed her breast with great care and thoroughness,
"Nor I love, nor I." he said eventually. "How could such pleasure be wrong?"
Then he narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger at her
"But 'twas all your fault my girl, for if you had granted me but a single bite of that stolen peach when I asked for it then we might both still be innocents."
She gave a most unladylike snort at that,
"Asked for it? Demanded as I recall and imperiously." She leaned forward and nipped his waving finger, "and who was it that had risked the gardeners wrath to flitch it? Tell me that? Old Ben chased me all the way to the orchard."
"So I recall. But we said we would share love, don't you remember? A single bite was all I asked for, but no you would deny it to me, fight me for it you did and look where that brought us."
Horry rolled over him, pinning him to the bed and laughing,
"And I say that were it to happen again I would still fight you for it Jonathon and be glad of the consequences."
He raised his brows and nodded at her,
"And I'd say good for you, I like a lass that can fight her corner." His hand slid over her hair, "but I promise you that I never thought that tussle in the grass would end up where it did."
"Nor I, but we had fought before, why should we have thought that time would be so different? We had stopped being children Jon but we didn't know it until then."

Jack sighed, twining his fingers with hers, his eyes taking on a far away look,
"If my father had been a different man then events might have taken their usual course. As it was that could never be, you know it. He was an outcast before he was a pirate and me with him, society will tolerate much for those with the right name, but not that; Teague killed three men before his majority and broke his mothers heart."
"He is what he is Jon, as are you."
"A sad commentary on us both love, more sad then I hope you ever know."
She looked at him for a long moment, seeing something in his distant eyes that hurt her. With a sudden jerk she flung the covers back and swung herself to her feet.
"Come with me."
"What! It's Christmas day Horry and the house is full; we will be seen and I'll not bring disgrace on you now, having not managed to do so, despite my effort, in the past."
"It's not yet morning Jon, have you forgotten so much, they will be only just asleep, none of them will stir for many hours yet. Not even the lowliest of the servants will be stirring yet."
She was shrugging herself into a silk robe as she spoke and stooping she picked up his shirt and breeches and tossed them to him; she grinned that shedevil smile again,
"Much thought the idea of you trekking naked through the house amuses me it will be cold so you must dress. Hurry, for I would not waste much of tonight somewhere other than my bed."
"Then why are we leaving it? " he protested as she pulled the shirt over his reluctant head.
"I think it is time I reminded you of something," she said, batting away his hands and turning to slide his breeches over his ankles. "Come now, I'd do it in daylight and spare us the loss of time here, but we cannot take the risk. Hurry, it won't take long."

Still protesting he dragged on his clothes, muttering about wilful women, but he he did as he was bid before sliding his coat around her shoulders in protection against the chill he knew was waiting for them. With a shake of his head he followed her across the room and they slipped, hand in hand, through the door.

***

The house was dark and silent. They had not even risked a candle and the shadows were deep and worrying to one who so often needed to stay unseen and unsurprised. They descended the stairs to the first landing then crossed the top of the main staircase; the hallway was dark and secret below them, only the faint red glow from the banked drawing room fire where a door was only half closed lightening the darkness. Round the landing and past the games room they crept, Jack's boyhood memories melding with more recent ones in a fission of unease. On, past the old lady's sitting room, cold and unlit these days, and round a dark corner to a doorway where Horry stopped to strike a light and pick up a candle.

Jack shivered in a sudden and more powerful draught and frowned at her,
"The gallery? By all that's holy why bring me here Horry?"
She took his hand and pulled him forward, her robe glowing white and ghostly in the gloom.
"You need a lesson in the past Jon, you have forgotten."
"Forgotten what?" he demanded.
Horry led him over cold and creaking boards to the far end of the gallery and raised her candle high, its light glowing faintly on the frames that lined the walls.
"Look Jon, what do you see?"
"Paint and canvas love, and nothing of much interest, certainly nothing worth leaving your room for."
"But what do you see in them?" she insisted
He sighed, she meant him to see something so gave the nearest two a cursory look.
"Not much, an unprepossessing lot if the truth be told, " he said after a moment.
"But respectable, yes? Worthy. Law abiding, and noble would you say? Isn't that what these painting show to you? Honest and substantial men and their happy and pretty wives."
Jack squinted at the nearest painting again it was of man in light armour with his dog curled at his feet,
"I suppose."

She smiled at him in the flickering light,
"But we know different don't we? Look at them again. Behind each painting is a story it doesn't tell. That it takes care not to tell."
She swept her arm in an arc that encompassed the row of paintings nearest to them,
"They were brigands to a man Jon, thieves and mercenaries many of them, and pimps and whores when it suited. But the winners always write history, and they were that. Clever and resourceful people, willing to do what it took and with the knack of being on the winning side."
Jack squinted at the nearest painting again and shrugged,
"Maybe. Was never much for the family history you might recall, I was here on sufferance."
Horry took his arm,
"Your father's forbears Jon, and yours too. That was what your father lost, the knack of being on the winning side. For the rest, was he so different from them?"
She looked back at the paintings,
"You at least have your mother's blood, and grandmamma has always said there was a much of her as Teague in you, but he had only this, for Grandmamma's family is no different."

Jack thought about that for a moment the closed his hand over hers,
"You always were a clever girl Horry."
She nodded,
"Too clever, and I thank God for it, for it made me unmarriageable."
"Not me then?"
"No, not you. Don't think that I regret it either, for grandmamma has seen that I have had a good life with her, I've travelled and known good company and new ideas and friendship."
She looked at him with shining eyes,
"And I was here tonight, where I would always wanted to have been."
She began to pull him towards the door,
"Though I would rather be somewhere other than the gallery at this moment."
Jack pulled her around and kissed her,
"Pity it's so cold," he said eventually, "might be good sport to use these sofa's for something other than polite conversation. Something that might affront these painted stares."
She laughed,
"I doubt anything we could do would affront them," then she shivered "but it is cold. Too cold."
He nodded and pulled the coat tighter around her, his smile glinted gold in the candlelight,
"I, on the other hand, find myself lit by an inner warmth," he quirked an eyebrow at her, "How quickly do you think we can get back?"

***

The rest of the night passed in a haze of passion and laughter and then finally sleep; but before first light a scratching on the door waked them. A hesitant voice followed the scratch,
"Miss Horry, I've brought chocolate and mince pies, as you asked."
Horry stirred and yawned,
"Come in Mrs Jane, " she said softly, pulling the sheet up to her chest.
Jack swore softly in half awake protest and buried his head under the covering.

The cook came in on near silent feet. Seeing the mound under the bedclothes, she exchanged a smile of very female complicity with her mistress and set the tray down with a soft chuckle. She took one cup and crossed to his side of the bed, setting it down on the chest, she tapped a finger to the region of his head,
"Be careful, for it is hot and it wouldn't do to spill it"

Jack drew one corner of the sheet down and looked at her with a wary eye, but the look on her face was reassurance enough to let him push it down to his chin and smile his most charming smile at her,
"Thank you," was all he risked saying.
"Well don't let it get cold," she scolded gently and, casting one quick look at his sheet draped outline, returned to Horry's side.
"I'll take your grandmother hers in a while. She's had the best night she has seen in a long time I think and I'll let her sleep a while yet. So you have time to enjoy these and dress at your leisure, would you have me help you with your hair?"
Horry took the sweetmeat she was being offered and bit into the soft pastry with relish,
"As you did when I was a girl? No, I'll manage, I must be back here by the time Clarrissa come s to dress me for morning service."
"Very well, ma'am. Ring if you want more chocolate or if you need help with anything," at Horry's laugh she ventured another smile of female understanding, "though seems you'll not be needing much of that this morning."

She came around to Jack's side again, where he was sipping chocolate with great care and concentration so as not to see the smiles of the two women. She waited patiently by the bedside until he could avoid it no longer and he looked up at her under his lashes with a sudden trepidation and something almost like shyness; seeing it her smile became maternal and she wagged a finger at him,
"There will be breakfast set out in Mr Fletcher's pantry before you leave. Do not think of going without saying goodbye Mr Jonathon, for I'd never forgive you that and I've done nothing that you should treat me so."

Jack set down his cup and caught her reddened hand in his,
"Nor have you. Never a truer friend did a lad have than you Mrs Jane, what do you think I am that I would leave without a word to you?"
She smiled softly at him,
"A scamp and a scallywag, Mr Jonathon, just as you always were. A rogue too maybe, though perhaps not as shameless as you would like to think yourself."
He blinked at her in silence for a moment before dropping a light kiss on the roughened fingers,
"You were always a woman of discernment Mrs Jane, let us pray that you are right again. Though I think you would find that view to be in the minority."
She gave a snort of scorn,
"Folks are often quick to judge Mr Jonathon, and those with least knowledge and smallest cause to do so judge the quickest and the hardest."

Catching the look that flashed across her face Jack wondered what experience it was that she spoke from, maybe that title of Mrs was not so honest after all. Not that he cared, though he could hope that Elizabeth would not need to learn the same bitter lesson. By Horry's grace she would be spared it and he would have one less sin to account for. He kissed the cook's fingers again and then let her hand fall,
"A woman of the world you are." He bit into the pie she had set beside his cup, "If your cooking wasn't so wonderful I'd say you've wasted your life stayin' on land, but tasting these pies, no man could say that was a waste."
She nodded and folder her hands on her apron, the smile lingering in her eyes though her mouth was prim.
"As I said a scamp and a scallywag."
He grinned at her as he licked the crumbs of pastry from his moustache with obvious pleasure,
"Aye that I am."

She looked him up and down then tossed Horry another conspiratorial smile,
"I'll see you at breakfast."
Then she left them, shutting the door carefully behind her.

***