I want you so bad, it's my only wish
- W. Adams
"Tell me the facts again," Weatherby Swann anxiously demanded. His scones and clotted cream sat untouched, his tea quickly going cold.
Gillette, felling the tension ratchet up another notch, wisely set his cup down. It was rare for the king to take tea in his office rather than the parlor, as was his usual custom. Some would say it was all the more unorthodox for the head of his security team to be invited to join him. But Gillette had always been more than an employee, or even a professional willing to give his life to protect the other's. Weatherby had grown to consider him a friend, an ally he could trust with not only his life but the princess's as well, which made his failure all the more poignant.
"I'm afraid the facts are what they always have been, sir. We've been apprised of nothing new. What we do know, we've already been over a dozen times."
"I don't care. Tell me again," Weatherby roared. He was a patient composed man, with a reputation for being easygoing, except where one thing was concerned. Elizabeth was his one vulnerability. She held the power to make his heart soar with happiness or fail with fear – and at the moment it was doing the latter.
"Sir, the evidence is quite clear. After Estrella discovered the princess was missing, we made an immediate search of the waters. Her cabin was swept from top to bottom to ascertain clues as to what may have happened," Gillette re-informed him. "Of course there was the very real chance that the princess had inadvertently fallen overboard, however we could not immediately dismiss other possibilities. And we were right not to. The state of her cabin made it abundantly clear that this was in no way accidental, but it also ruled out a suicide attempt. The princess's robe and negligee were found on the cabin's floor. Her clothing armoire was left open, and the hidden panel in the desk drawer was lifted, the relatively sizable store of money I'm told she kept there missing. It all pointed to a quick, calculated escape which could lead to only two conclusions. I had my suspicions all along that Estrella knew more than she was letting on and, as soon as the possibility of an inside kidnapping was brought up, she was surprisingly forthcoming. We are of absolutely no doubt at this point that the princess jumped off the ship voluntarily."
Weatherby knew his daughter had been unhappy, but apparently he had no idea how much. In the beginning, he'd hoped it was just an accident. Now, knowing she was so discontented in her life that she would go to such lengths to escape it was almost as upsetting as not knowing her whereabouts…..or if she was even still – but no. He would not consider that possibility.
"I can't pretend that's what a father wants to hear," he said quietly. "However I find hope in the conclusion all the same. If this was an attempt to 'run away', for lack of better wording, than surely my Elizabeth wouldn't do so unprepared. It offers a much better outcome than if she accidently fell into the sea, perhaps in some sort of physical distress."
"True, sir, but…." Gillette hesitated, not wanting to bring up the elephant in the room neither man discussed; nevertheless it was his duty to at least broach the matter. "There is the sedative to consider."
"My daughter is a strong swimmer," Weatherby sharply replied.
"Yes. Yes, of course." Gillette cleared his throat grimly. "And we must be encouraged that no body has been found."
"My daughter is alive," the king insisted. "What is being done at this moment to find her?"
"We're making a search of the immediate area, the nearby islands as our top priority. However the region is crawling with islets, reefs, atolls, and islands of various kinds, from the tiny to the well-known ports. We mapped out a radius of the boat's location at the time the princess was discovered missing and have been focusing on the larger, more obvious tourists destinations as her target. However, there was some length of time between when the princess was last seen and when she turned up missing, and the ship was traveling at a respectable speed. Therefore our initial radius could be somewhat off. And then, of course, if she had help in planning this escape, she may have had an accomplice with a boat waiting, which means she could really be anywhere at this point. But we do not feel that is the case. We believe the princess was alone in this, and a sweep of the immediate islands is still the best course of action, if not exactly a speedy one."
Gillette paused, eying the king carefully. "Naturally we are keeping this matter very hush-hush. But….I was wondering if we might apprise the Duke of the situation. It is possible that she may be hoping to meet him somewhere, planning an early elopement as it were."
"No," Weatherby shook his head. "It's not possible." He didn't plan to delve into just why it wasn't possible. He was well aware that his daughter had never been crazy about her fiancé, but no one else needed to know that. "We tell James nothing, not yet." Not until I can figure out the best way to spin this, he silently added. "He, like the public, is to keep on believing that Elizabeth has merely taken ill and is resting under a doctor's care. But we keep looking – aggressively. Whatever it takes, we will find her."
Unaware of her father's meeting half a world away, Elizabeth blissfully chewed a mango turnover, sitting amongst a ragtag collection of the Black Pearl's staff. This was breakfast for some and lunch for others, depending on when their shifts fell, but whatever it was, she loved it. And the more she got to know Will's eccentric group of friends, the more she realized these people had been like a family to him, especially the long-time members of the crew like Gibbs, Cotton, and Marty, men who had known Will since he first came over to live with his father. Knowing this endeared them to her, but she also couldn't help thinking how a boy with such an unconventional adolescence would almost have to grow up with a stray issue or two. Still, she was glad for whatever small sense of family Will had been given – and was thankful they were offering the same to her now.
The Dauntless, the Black Pearl's main restaurant, offered seating both inside the lobby and out around the pool area. Since it was such a lovely day, they'd opted to eat outside – which is where they all were now – and, since the Dauntless' meals were excellent, they'd all made quick work of the food. Originally, Will had been sitting at a small table with Elizabeth, his other friends clustered about at tables of their own but, as the meal wound to a close, people started calling him to this and that table and a general mingling ensued.
At the moment, Anna was sitting with Elizabeth as they both downed a second turnover.
Elizabeth had stopped over to her cabana earlier that morning to borrow some more outfits, including something "casual and able to get dirty" as per Will's instructions. He was taking her to see the shipyard and warehouse where he did his work, and then afterwards to some mysterious location that apparently offered the possibility of getting dirty. She didn't know where that might be. She only knew it seemed important to Will that he show her, and so it was important to her too. But Elizabeth had secret plans of her own. Tonight, she wanted Will to take her out to complete the "First" they'd been derailed from the night of their arrest. A little time in jail hadn't swayed her desire, and she was absolutely determined nothing would interrupt them this time around. With that in mind, she had also borrowed some of Anna's clothes that were more appropriate to such a setting.
Over their pastries, however, their chat had somehow turned not to clothes or Will's shipyard, but to the man himself….and to Elizabeth….and whatever it was that was going on between them.
"Anna, we've been over this," Elizabeth said, straightening her ponytail as a means of distraction. "Nothing's happened between us besides a little harmless flirting."
"But not for long," her friend winked back.
When Elizabeth failed to reply in an equally saucy manner – or even to reply at all – Anna looked at her a long moment, studying her features as she silently sipped her iced tea.
"He has feelings for you, you know," Anna told her.
Elizabeth looked up at that, but not at Anna, at their diverse little group as it began to disperse. Startlingly, Anna's last comment – or variations thereof – had been the prevailing opinion that morning. Cotton, the oldest of the bunch, who'd been born deaf and suffered a speech impediment because of it, talked largely through sign language, which Elizabeth did not know, but Marty had been more than happy to act as interpreter. And Marty was a sweetheart too, going about his day happy as can be despite the sometimes insensitive comments about his height from the odd clueless or just plain rude child. But, rather than discuss his life or work with her, he had also broadcast the same message about Will – from both himself and Cotton. She wondered if it was something in the water. Of course none of them knew that she was a princess….or technically engaged.
"Why the hesitation?" Anna asked.
"Will is a darling. He's been wonderful, so caring and supportive. That said, I hate to let you all down, but I don't think he's in love with me, if that's what you mean. Whatever feelings he might have, if he has any, are – "
"Strictly below the waist?" Anna offered.
Elizabeth smiled slightly at her rib, but looked down, suddenly finding her tea fascinating. She was surprised the comment had stung the way it did, both because it suggested that Will was only interested in her for sex – her own private fear – and because, even in that region, she apparently couldn't tempt him greatly enough. But then Anna had no way of knowing what had happened between them on the beach – or the fact that she would have willingly and readily kissed Will but he had been the one to back away. The morning after, she was still disappointed though she knew she shouldn't be.
"Is this about his silly little rules?" Anna went on. "He doesn't have those because he's a jerk." She leaned in as if the rest she was about to say should remain a secret between them. "There's more to it than that. I don't know the full story, but Jack does. I only know what he's hinted at here and there, and what I've observed myself since I've known Will these past five years. It has something to do with his upbringing, I think, something that happened when he was young that scarred him."
She paused, waiting for a response, but Elizabeth gave none. Anna was trying to talk Will up, that much was clear, but it wasn't necessary. She already wanted him. The trouble lay in winning him – and keeping him – but she wasn't about to admit as much to anyone.
"Look, I just know that Will's a good guy," Anna said, ready to leave it at that. "And I think that deep down, all this time, he really has wanted something more, even if he didn't realize it until he met you."
Gibbs walked up to their table then, overhearing the last of their conversation. He, like his mates, knew that Will was over the moon for Elizabeth. However, he went the furthest of them all by saying, "Will? Any fool can see he's mad about you. I wager you'll be married by this time next year."
Elizabeth nearly choked on her tea, but Will played her hero yet again. His eye caught hers across the table as he came to join them. "Me? I'd be a lousy husband," he said in an easy, endearingly self-deprecating manner. "Elizabeth can do far better than me."
Gibbs laughed and slapped him on the back as he walked by, and Anna too left, vacating the seat for Will.
Despite her previous fear, that her charms hadn't been enough to tempt him, Elizabeth couldn't miss the changed dynamic between them since their beach day. Every look between them sizzled, every touch felt intimate and full of promise. But she still couldn't understand why he'd been so flirtatious and then, when the opportunity presented itself, pulled away. He was back to flirtatious again this morning, it was true, but what did it all mean? Was that one of his rules? Keep the women guessing? She wouldn't want a relationship with him like that, didn't want to be one of those 'rules women'. She was not interested in just a quick tumble….was she?
Will eased his chair closer to hers, asking permission with his eyes – and receiving it – to steal the last bite of turnover from her plate.
Elizabeth smiled as he gulped it down. "You were wrong," she told him softly. "What you said wasn't true at all."
His brow furrowed, trying to figure out what she could mean. "Which part?"
She laughed at his obvious distress, so clearly figuring himself in trouble. "About being a lousy husband. You'd make a great husband….the perfect husband. I know from the fifteen minutes you pretended to be mine," she grinned.
When Will said nothing in return, Elizabeth let the conversation fall into a comfortable lapse as she looked out toward the beach beyond, but he watched her all the while as she absently played with the rim of her glass and then fiddled with the length of her straw. Finally looking back toward her tea, she dipped her forefinger into its murky depths, impishly dunking a square of ice and sucking the lingering tea from her finger.
All at once, Will took her hand from her mouth, drawing it to his and pressing a kiss to its back.
Elizabeth studied his umber eyes. "What was that for?"
"Just a thank you, for washing up on my pier."
"I should be thanking you," she smiled.
"Well, from where I'm sitting, it seems we've both changed each other's lives."
And she couldn't argue with that.
Elizabeth spent the entire hour they were at Will's warehouse and shipyard marveling at the sketches and blueprints and the ships in varying stages of completion and repair. That she was impressed with his work was an understatement. How he was able to build such wonders from nothing at all was nearly beyond her and, again, it said a lot about the man. His patience, attentiveness, and care were as clear in his work as his sheer talent.
As remarkable as all that was, she was equally struck by the fact that, like the Flying Dutchman, this was an aspect of his life that Will apparently did not share with many people, if any. The fact that he chose to do so with her, and seemed so excited about it besides, touched her heart and made her question her earlier thoughts that Will's interest in her was shallow and purely physical. At the very least he appeared to value her friendship. Unfortunately, everything in her wanted to be more than just friends, but she was well accustomed to quelling her hopes and desires.
Locking up the warehouse, Will's eyes shone with even more excitement and mischief as he led her across the small alleyway to the dark brick building next door. Evidently this was the second mysterious location he'd planned on showing her.
"What do you have up your sleeve, Will Turner?"
"I can't tell you yet. You have to wait for it. But I promise you're going to love it."
His enthusiasm made her all the more anxious to know what was in store, but regrettably the exterior of the large building gave nothing away.
Flipping through his key ring to find the proper fit, Will let them into the building, switching on the lights and illuminating the expansive room.
"Oh my goodness," Elizabeth laughed in disbelief as she stepped further into the building. "It's a smithy." Other than some modern concessions here and there, most glaringly the florescent lights overhead, the room was nearly an exact replica of those she'd seen in films and read descriptions of in books. "I didn't even know these still existed."
"They don't, generally speaking. John Brown owns this place. He has since I was a boy. He's found his niche making traditional weaponry for production companies."
"Really? I always just assumed they used something pretend."
"Often they do," Will explained. "But if the sword is particularly important to the story, or it's going to be shot in extreme close-up, they prefer to use the real thing. It just looks more authentic. Some producers will search the antique markets for the genuine article but when it can't be found, or it's just too expensive, that's when they turn to Brown. He still makes swords the old-fashioned way. It's the closest thing you can get to the real thing."
She was genuinely awestruck, at the swords, the smithy, and the connection to the movie business. "This is fascinating, Will. How did you get involved in all this? Assuming you are, but you must be; you have the key. You're friends with this Mr. Brown?"
Will smiled at that. "Brown. Just Brown. That's what everyone calls him. Yeah, I guess you could say we're friends. We met just after I first moved out here. My father used to work at the shipyards, so I was always nearby, and one day I wandered over. I was so enthralled…." He laughed at the memory. "I think Brown found me amusing. He had no children of his own and his wife had recently died. He sort of took me under his wing, taught me how to make the swords – horseshoes and nails too, you name it. I suppose he just wanted to pass the knowledge along to someone, and luckily for us both I was there. I still come over and make a sword or two when I can spare the time. Sort of keep my hand in, you know."
"You make swords too?" she asked in astonishment.
Will just modestly nodded his head, but there was pride in his voice when he said, "See that one there." He pointed to the sword on the far left of the nearby rack. "That one is mine."
"Will," she went on, almost too flabbergasted to find words. "Mapping out designs, building ships, and now crafting swords. What can't you do? Apparently you're quite skilled with your hands." Realizing the potential innuendo in what she'd just said, her cheeks colored. "I….Well…I meant – "
Will placed his fingers to her mouth, silencing her. "I know what you meant."
He was drawn in by the softness of her mouth beneath his fingertips, and he left them there longer than was necessary, allowing them to linger and drift across her full lips. Then he abruptly moved back. It was the only way he could stop himself from kissing her.
He could have kicked himself for not doing as much yesterday, when the timing and mood and setting had been so right. But as his mouth honed in on hers, it had suddenly flashed through his mind that she was a princess and engaged, even if the depth of her affection for her fiancé was up for question. What if she had rejected him? Then what? It would ruin all that was between them now. Just because he could see beyond her title and stature, just because he believed he could offer her things, love her in ways she'd been denied, that didn't mean anyone else could. Even so, he wasn't giving up on her yet. But now didn't feel like the right time, and so distance was the only option.
"There's more," he told her, bringing the subject to safer ground. "Over my fifteenth birthday, a stunt coordinator for one of the films Brown was hired out to came to the island to examine the swords. As a present, Brown arranged for him to give me lessons in sword fighting, and I was…..gone. It was all I wanted to do. To this day, I think René stayed over far longer than he needed to, but I was such a willing pupil and I revered him like some kind of God," Will laughed. "After that, all through school, I saved up to take more lessons wherever I could and again, when I was studying at the university, I furthered the skill." He looked over at Elizabeth, who was regarding him with a curious sort of smile creeping across her lips. "What?"
"And you can fence?" she asked enigmatically.
"Yeah, quite well if I do say so myself," he bragged, to which the corner of her mouth rose further but she said nothing. "But that's not the part you'll like the best," he said. "When I came back from England, seven years ago, I bought the warehouse next door for my business and Brown and I got reacquainted as adults. He still worked in the film business – still does – but he was looking for ways to supplement his income in-between projects. One day he saw me practicing at swords, and by this time the Black Pearl had become quite the thing on the island. He just sort of put two and two together. That's when he came up with the idea of the troupe. Jack just loved it, so we – "
"I vaguely remember you mentioning something about a troupe after he bailed us out of jail," Elizabeth interrupted.
"Yes. That's the part you'll love. I….." He paused, looking somewhat sheepish. "I didn't want to tell you at first because it's kind of embarrassing but, once a month, we do these big reenactments with tall ships, sword fighting, treasure chests, the whole nine yards. The tourists eat it up, of course. Bookings always increase on those weekends."
Elizabeth laughed; she couldn't help herself. Before all of this began, when she was back in her old life, miserable aboard that ship, she detailed to Estrella her dreams of running off with a man like those in her pirate stories. Astoundingly, it seemed one had been plucked right out of them for her.
"See, you're laughing at me. But it really does help drum up guests," Will defended.
"I'm not laughing at you," she assured him. "I'm laughing at me, if anyone."
"Good," he taunted, "because if you were I couldn't show you the surprise."
"Another one?"
"Yep. Wait right there. It's in the back room."
He disappeared to a small room in the far back of the smithy, closing the door behind him. Left to her own devises, Elizabeth approached the forge, absently sweeping her hand across the hearth. Looking down at the soot her fingers had accumulated, she rubbed them against her thigh, the ash dusting off onto her yoga pants.
She considered her pants for a moment and then the rest of the outfit, a short sleeved zip-up sweatshirt and a matching yoga cami beneath. As he'd instructed, it could all withstand getting dirty, but it was also the perfect exercise wear…..
Smiling deviously, she knew whatever surprise Will had couldn't possibly trump the one she was about to give him. But as he stepped out of the back room her jaw dropped open. She found she'd never been more wrong.
For the first time since she'd met him, Will's hair was left loose, dark curls cascading down from beneath the green bandana he'd tied about his head. He was wearing a dark maroon shirt, its open V-neck dipping halfway down his chest. The shirt, though loose and flowing in the buccaneer style, was tucked into his pants, showing off his slim narrow hips to perfection. Around his waist he wore a long sash as well as a weapons belt, where a sword was currently sheathed. From there, his black pants skimmed over his backside falling away to nearly knee-high boots. All in all, he looked the very picture of a swashbuckling pirate, an image that stirred up lust down to her very core – all the more so because she knew he dressed this way for her.
He really did look meltingly sexy, and apparently it showed on her face because a wide grin blossomed on his. "Well? What do you think?" he asked.
Before she could censor herself, Elizabeth blurted out, "I've never been so attracted to you."
Will laughed. "I thought to myself, what better way to win over a girl with a pirate fetish than to dress like one."
"So you spend your solitary hours thinking of ways to win me over, hmm?"
The truth was he did, not that he had many solitary hours. Since they'd met, they spent nearly ever waking moment together. He wondered if she realized that. Still, he wasn't about to admit her teasing question was as close to the truth as one could get.
"That, and when I was flipping through my closet and saw this outfit I thought, 'Elizabeth has got to see this'," he replied cheekily.
"So that's what you wear in the reenactments." He nodded. "Well then I'm going to have to stay until you have another one."
He grinned again. "Good. I hope you do. But, if you like the costume so much, I'm wearing it right now," he pointed out. "And you have me all to yourself, no tourists or competing pirates to get in the way. Why wait until then?"
"True," she conceded. "You do have a point. Crowds wouldn't work at all for what I have planned."
Will took a hopeful step closer. "Just what exactly do you have in mind?"
"Fencing."
"What?" he asked, dumbfounded. That wasn't at all what he'd hoped she'd say.
"Remember the day we went sailing and I told you I have hidden talents of my own?"
He did, in fact, remember. That day too, his mind had gone somewhere far different. "Fencing? That's your hidden talent?"
"One of them," she laughed, amused at his astonishment. "My father's a man of tradition, and I never have been. Fencing was about the only old-fashioned thing – other than pirates – that I showed any interest in."
He didn't mean to offend her, but he couldn't avoid stating the obvious. "But you're a woman."
"I'm glad you noticed," she smiled. "But it hasn't been all that uncommon for women of nobility to learn to fence, and this is the twenty-first century."
"So let me make sure I understand this. You want me to fence…with you?"
"Yes."
"Okay," he said somewhat unsurely. "I – I guess. But we'd have to use practice swords."
"Not the real thing?" Disappointment was clear in her voice.
"Elizabeth, I'm not going to risk either of us getting hurt." He saw her open her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand, stopping her. "And no matter how good you think you are, mistakes can still happen."
"Fine, but I don't just think, I am good, practice swords or not."
Will's lips formed an involuntary smile. She certainly was amazing – and unspeakably attractive when she got all proud and indignant. He wanted more, and so he said, "Then again, I never have crossed swords with a woman. I'm not sure it would be a good idea."
That did the trick. She shot him a charmingly piqued look. "Oh, I think I can manage. You just worry about yourself."
To further tease her, he argued, "But I wouldn't want you to be at an unfair disadvantage."
"Just for that, I'm going to have to beat you," she said, raising her eyebrow in a dare-you fashion.
He abruptly turned, unsheathing the practice sword from his belt and walking over to the wall to retrieve an additional one for her. "You know, not many people realize the importance of footwork in dueling. When I studied under René," Will continued, now back at her side, handing her the practice sword, "he told me that in old Hollywood, back when the swashbuckling films were in their heyday, the studios used to require the actors to take a class in dance before shooting began because the quick chorography was so similar to sword fighting. He made me practice proper foot action for hours on end, long before he let me put a sword in my hand, real or otherwise. Have you had much experience in dance?"
"I'm classically trained," she shot back.
"But this is no ballroom." He played with the safety tip on his sword's end as he considered her, thinking that teasing her must be one of the most delightful things on earth. "I think, to be on the safe side, I should check your footwork and your stance," he said, stepping deep into her personal space and slowly circling her body.
"Is that what you're checking?" she quipped, at length. She'd meant the remark to come out as sharp and witty, but was dismayed at how breathy her voice sounded even to her own ears.
He stopped before her, so close his chest nearly grazed her breasts, and she sucked in a breath.
"What else would you like me to check, Elizabeth?" Will whispered.
She knew he was toying with her but it did nothing to stop her body from nearly melting with lust. She wanted nothing more than to dispense with the swords and simply have at it, but now she was determined to best him at his own game.
Stepping back away from him, she countered, "My footwork is perfectly capable. Now, en garde."
She lifted her sword to him in a fighting stance, but he just looked her up and down and smiled. "You're adorable," he told her warmly.
She actually looked aghast at his compliment. "I am not. Now come over here and fight me."
Will took slow, measured steps towards Elizabeth, watching her watch him and noting her appreciation. For a minute, he'd forgotten he was dressed as a pirate but she certainly hadn't.
When he finally engaged her blade, however, was when the true magic began, and Elizabeth felt it too, her eyes glittering and flashing with challenge as she executed a perfect attaque au fer.
She quickly discovered that Will really was as skilled a fencer as he claimed. He was agile and slick, his movements smooth. Trying to catch her unaware, he made his next move, carrying out a textbook ballestra. He performed the motion with such verve and dash, a thrill zapped through her when his blade connected with hers, the hit reverberating all through her body to places that should be wholly unaffected by swordplay. But she couldn't help it. Her heart was racing and she'd never felt more alive.
Elizabeth answered with a move of her, implementing a flawless advance-lunge. An enthusiastic grin was plastered to Will's lips as he easily blocked it, following his parry with a flourishing riposte. He watched as her lovely little mouth formed into a disappointed frown for but a millisecond before she advanced on him again.
Will surveyed her movements with pure admiration. She was indeed talented, but more than that she had spunk, a fire inside that was matchless. And now, as they fenced in the heat of the closed-up smithy, he was certain he had never laid eyes on a more beautiful, incredible woman.
Their body language was in sync, completely in tune, as the match continued. Though they'd both been facing opponents for years, until this moment, neither had suspected what an aphrodisiac fencing could be. There was a heat simmering between them with each lunge and parry that was nearly combustible as they maneuvered and danced around each other, both trying hard at pretending to be unaffected.
Will carried out a quick, sound redoublement, but Elizabeth was prepared, dropping into a seamless passata-sotto. Even as she did so he wondered if she was aware how she stirred him, how deeply he was convinced that her plush lips, now set hard in determination, were meant for better things, that her tussled hair and cheeks, flushed with effort, brought to his mind images of them engaged in something far more pleasurable than fencing. But in this match, as in life, she was infuriatingly out of reach.
Hoping to upset her timing, Will executed a changement de rythme and, to his surprise, it worked. His lips curled into a grin, his dimple flickering to life and all but devastating Elizabeth. Pure devilry was etched on his face as they locked into a corps à corps, too close to each other for their weapons to be of any use, but coming into glorious physical contact for the first time in the match.
Shivers shot down her spine with each brush of his arm against hers, each graze of his thigh into her hip. He was driving her mad and she suspected he knew it, but she wasn't prepared to give up just yet. With some concentrated effort on her part – and a whole lot of restraint – she managed to escape, engaging his blade once more.
Moving into a seamless passe avant, Elizabeth demonstrated her 'capable footwork' in what even the strictest of masters had to admit was an impeccable forward cross. Will made a tsking sound with his tongue in response that for whatever reason she found wildly provocative.
He sensed she was about to attack, and asked, "Are you sure you want to continue fighting me? Or are you finally ready to give in?", referring to so much more than merely their match. He gave her a hot look, and his voice was low and intimate as he assured her, "I'm very good with my sword, Elizabeth. I'll show you."
She caught his meaning, the double entendre glaringly obvious, but it still accomplished its goal, making her burn and squirm and sorely tempting her to take him up on the offer.
She schooled her expression into polite indifference, but it was just a moment too late. Seeing the effect of his words, he engaged her in an envelopment, sweeping her sword through a full circle, then suggestively stroking her weapon with the edge of his.
"I know just how to maneuver," Will rakishly continued, loving the way he could shake her composure. "How to use all the proper angles. When and how to thrust, with just the right amount of friction."
Everything about him, from his suggestive words, to his taunt hard muscles, to the roguish gleam in his hot dark eyes set off wicked, dirty thoughts in her mind. Elizabeth responded to Will like no other man she had ever known. She felt like she would die if he didn't touch her, kiss her – and right this moment. She had never known a hunger, a sheer need, like the one she felt now, for this man.
Will gazed at Elizabeth and his heart hummed in his chest. She looked hot and bothered and unimaginable sexy, and he knew that he had won, if not yet the sword match then at least this other game they seemed to be playing. But all at once she surprised him, lowering her sword and stepping close into his body.
She smiled alluringly, in a purposeful seduction. "Maybe you're right," she purred. "If you're so talented with your sword, why should I even bother to fight?" She edged closer, mimicking his earlier stance, only this time allowing her chest to press into his. As hoped, Will was driven to distraction – to near desperation.
His attention fell to her mouth, hypnotized by her soft, inviting lips. Never before had he felt such a powerful craving. He was like an addict in need of a hit, wanting nothing more than to devour her – right here, right now.
Elizabeth saw a flash of something electric in his eyes and hesitated for just a moment, caught between instigating her coup de grace and simply giving in to what once had been a ruse. Deciding on the former, she abruptly pushed Will away, raising her sword and lunging toward him, but he recovered from his stupor in time to block her and the game continued.
With a self-satisfied smile, she boasted, "So skilled with your sword, and yet I still seem to be getting the upper hand."
Will returned her smile with a wayward one of his own. "Ahh, but I'm very good with those too," he whispered. "Remember? You said so yourself."
She made no verbal reply, letting an in quartata be her response, but it was unsuccessful, leaving Will open to advance upon her, his eyes intent and determined. Enough teasing, enough playing. He was going to have her – and now. Repeating a changement de rythme that had worked so well before, he suddenly spun about and, with one decisive lunge, achieved a stunning froissement that knocked Elizabeth's sword to the ground.
Without a weapon at her disposal, she retreated but soon had nowhere to go, the smithy's wall at her back and Will closing in on her front. He advanced on her further, pressing the safety tip of his sword to her throat and finally ending the match. He'd won at swords, but that was not the victory he was looking for, and without a second thought he discarded his blade upon the floor.
His body crowded into hers and an immediate, answering desire radiated through him.
He wanted to take her mouth, entice her until her lips were open and pliant beneath his. The need to do so was nearly unconquerable.
"I've just proven my sword skills," Will silkily told her. His voice dropping an octave, in a low seductive whisper, he said, "Now I'll have to show you just what exactly I can do with my hands."
True to his word, he dropped his hand to caress her hip whisper softly, barely a touch at all, and she was immobilized, filled with an overwhelming hunger. Pulling her away from the wall, he slid his other hand down to the small of her back and pressed her close to him. Elizabeth watched the heat move into his eyes and anticipation thrummed through her.
Will couldn't help it, couldn't deny himself any longer. He wanted to kiss, and lick, and taste her – and damned if he wasn't going to do all three.
He lowered his mouth, and she knew they were seconds away from being locked in a passionate embrace. Alarm flooded her veins with each inch his lips progressed. No matter how much she wanted this, she couldn't open herself up yet, not without being sure, not without knowing why…..
Just as his lips hovered over hers, she asked in an almost panic, "Why don't you believe in love?"
Pulling back, she stepped out of his arms and around his body into the center of the room, putting some much needed distance between them.
For a moment he just stood there, his back still to her, then he finally turned around. "Look," he said with a heavy sigh, "it isn't that I don't believe in love. I've just never seen it."
"Never?" Come to think of it, neither had she. Not in her own life. The closest she'd come to witnessing it was with her parents, in those early years of her life before her mother died, but she was so young then she could hardly remember.
"Not a good, functional love. Not the 'I love you, you love me, we'd do anything for each other, happily ever after' kind of love," Will clarified.
"And the rules you've so carefully put in place are to guarantee you never do?"
"No, they're meant so I never have to see any more of the 'one-sided, unrequited, desperate, wasting my life away' sort of love."
He stopped then and looked away from her, but she wasn't about to let it go. Whatever he had just begun to reveal – intentionally or not – she knew was the key to his avoidance of relationships.
She studied him, her eyes intent and probing. Softly, gently, she requested, "Tell me."
He mulled it over for a second or two, but then it all came spilling out, as if his heart willed the words from his mouth. "Remember how I told you I lived in England with my mother until I was twelve?"
"Yes, you stayed behind with her after your parents divorced....until she died."
"My parent never divorced. It wasn't anything as simple as that."
Elizabeth looked at him curiously, compassionately, and for the first time his eyes met hers.
"My father abandoned us. I told you he was a shipwright's apprentice and part-time sailor for hire – which I guess he was – but….." Will trailed off and his eyes grew cloudy, his features brooding. "He was never home, always gone for months at a time, and even when he didn't have a job, he was constantly down at the docks. Always drinking, and sailing, and carousing with the crew – whichever crew he was with at the time. My mother tried to make excuses for him and explain it away, and after a while I suspect she even grew to believe them herself. She said the sea 'bewitched him', but the bottom line was we simply weren't a priority for him."
Will moved closer to Elizabeth, stopping across from her and leaning against the hard anvil. But his gaze avoided hers now, ashamed of what he was revealing – and equally tortured by it.
Shaking his head sadly, he went on. "It should have been my clue. But, when he was home and the mood struck him right, afternoons he would take me down to the pier with him and teach me sailing and shipbuilding. We had a ship all our own we started together," he said, smiling wistfully, in spite of himself. "We never did finish it….I missed my father so much when he was away, but every time he returned, I forgave him just like that. I was just a boy; I looked up to him. He was kind to me and seemed to know so much about the things that interested me – more than anything else the sea, the freedom, the challenge, the peace of it. He told me, 'The sea is in your blood, boy, like it's in mine. You're just like me'."
Will shuddered at the memory, or more correctly the implication behind it, and Elizabeth unconsciously took a step toward him.
"When I was eight," he continued, "he joined up with another crew bound for the Caribbean, but this time he didn't come back. And still he was my idol. I kept telling myself he was a merchant sailor, a good respectable man.….I didn't understand," he shrugged. "But very quickly the scales fell from my eyes."
He ruffled his fingers through the front of his hair distractedly, as if the sweeping motion could cleanse his mind from the anguish that had been his childhood. "He left us alone there, my mother and I, with no source of income," Will finally said, clearly appalled. "I told you, after he left, her 'illness' came. But it wasn't an illness, not physically. She just – she….a nervous breakdown is what they called it. I tried to care for her as best as I could on my own, but I was eight….eight years old." His voice nearly broke and he did the hair sweep again – and again Elizabeth's feet willed her closer.
"My mother had a job as a maid that she managed to function at well enough to bring in some income, and I did odd jobs around the neighborhood after school to help out. It was a hard tiring lifestyle, but it wasn't the money problems that crippled us. It was her depression, that damned abyss of despair, that overshadowed everything."
Elizabeth continued to listen to his story, equal parts horrified and transfixed. Her heart ached hearing what he'd endured, and knowing there was still more she hadn't yet learned. She yearned to comfort him in some way but didn't know how. She couldn't chance interrupting him, not when she knew as surely as she was breathing that this was a story he didn't tell often, if ever at all.
"My mother," Will went on, "she was just so in love with my father, even after all he'd done. She was determined he would come back some day. As the years passed and he didn't, she just gave up. Her pain, his betrayal, it consumed her till she couldn't see anything else….not even me.
When I grew up, I began to understand the reality of our lives, our broken home, my father's choices and the devastation he left behind. It scared me to death to see what my mother had become – what he'd made her – what the destructive relationship with my father had done to her. It…..It just devastated her. It ruined her. She once was a happy, lovely woman, who smiled – how I remember her smiles…..and then she was nothing. By the time I turned twelve, she was barely hanging on to reality. That winter, she came down with a severe cold, but she just kept working and still not sleeping. She never sought treatment; I couldn't convince her, despite the fact that some nights she could hardly breath. Eventually it became pneumonia and….she just stopped fighting. It's true what people say; she just didn't want to try anymore."
Will looked over at Elizabeth, his features contemplative. "My mother would have hated what I do now. She blamed the sea and everything associated with it for taking my father from her…..But it wasn't the sea. It was the booze, and the women, and the blithe, feckless lifestyle that seduced him," he said with disgust. "The plain truth of it is my father was a selfish man."
Elizabeth could take no more and she closed the rest of the distance between them, setting her hand atop his and squeezing it comfortingly. "It must have been difficult for you to come live with him after she died. You had to be feeling all sorts of anger towards him for abandoning your mother, and you. It's only natural."
"Sailing to the Caribbean that first time, I was torn somewhere between hate and love," Will admitted. "I idealized my father for so long when I was little. I wanted his pride and acceptance more than anything. When I grew up – and that happened real fast after he left – I was forced to see the truth of the matter, that he wasn't a real great guy. But he was still my father, and on some level I still wanted his acceptance. It's something I've had to make peace with. By the time I reencountered him after my mother's death, he wanted to make amends for his mistakes, especially as he grew older. I know he regretted a lot of what he'd done, but some things can't be changed……Which is all the more reason to consider the effects of our actions beforehand."
Elizabeth's eyes held his and sudden, sharp understanding dawned. "Your rules."
"I never could come to terms with my mother's desperation, the lengths she was willing to go to, her fragility," he told her, and she rubbed her thumb consolingly across his knuckles. "She knew who my father was, what he was, long before he left us. So why didn't she just kick him out, start her life over? But she wouldn't. She couldn't. My mother was a good woman, Elizabeth. But, like a cancer, her love for my father destroyed her."
"So then…..you're afraid of love?" she gently asked.
"No." And finally it was the moment of truth, the moment to lift the cup and reveal his dice. "I'm afraid of hurting someone the way he did her."
"But Will, you wouldn't – "
" 'You're just like me', he said. God forbid," Will implored in horrified disdain. "After she died, I vowed never to get involved with a woman unless I was damn well sure I was serious about sticking around. That's why I have my rules. I don't want to express even the hint of a future, of any kind of commitment, to a woman unless I'm absolutely positive that I'm in it forever. I can't be like my father, ever. I can't be the cause of the kind of suffering my mother endured. I mean, why marry her? If my father wanted to be free, didn't want to be tied down, then why did he marry her at all? Why make it seem serious when it's nothing to you? That's the difference. So I came up with a system of rules to be safe, to keep that from ever happening. If I just do this and don't do that, say this but never say that, then everything will be alright."
He looked down at her and his features were so sincere and yet so lost, her heart ached for him.
My God, Elizabeth thought, fighting back tears. Will wasn't trying to avoid commitment. He never had been. He was afraid of entering into the wrong commitment, into a relationship he would later discover wasn't a good fit, that simply wasn't meant to be. And somehow, though ill-fated love affairs were merely a fact of life, Will reasoned that any he might become involved in would be his fault, the consequences his to bear. When it all went south, he and he alone would be the one to blame. He was terrified of repeating the careless mistakes of his father, the cycle of emotional manipulation and agony he witnessed slowly kill his mother.
All at once she saw in his eyes the sad, frightened little boy sitting in the corner, watching his mother cry, after his father had abandoned them yet again. It was heart wrenching and unbearable. She wanted to draw him into her arms and soothe him, for he was the one hurting, not a million imagined women suffering from broken hearts. It was his that had shattered those many years ago.
"That's what I meant when I told you about the Dutchman's Senta, and Tortuga, and the one right woman," Will disclosed, taking her other hand in his. "I made a promise to myself long ago that until I was sure, quite certain I loved a woman, I would never give her any false illusions. I wouldn't do to any woman what I watched my father do to my mother, even long after he was gone. Which meant the rules, distance, detachment, they were all necessary."
But still, so many times at night he imagined how nice it would be if he finally could let his guard down, finally open up and have the sort of emotional closeness he craved. All these years, what he wanted – what he really wanted – was a traditional family, that sort of love and closeness, marriage, children, a wife, and a home. And, with a startling clarity, he realized that he could see all of that and more with her. She had opened him. She had been the catalyst. Until now, he'd never met a woman he was even remotely tempted to take that chance with – and he wanted to so badly with her.
"Oh, Will," Elizabeth said, letting go of his hand to tenderly stroke his arm. "Your rules, the intention behind them, it's admirable, but don't you think – "
"It's important to me, Elizabeth."
He was stubborn….and vulnerable, she recognized it; it was like looking in a mirror.
"Okay then," she responded, her hand moving up his arm to softly caress his shoulder.
His eyes held hers and at length he revealed, "You're the only one I've ever brought home."
She was taken aback, both by the information and because it wasn't at all what she expected him to say. "That's – that's all right. I didn't think you meant anything by it…."
"Didn't I?" he asked, letting go of her and taking several steps away.
She didn't know what to make of that statement, but what she did know was that Will's early life had been nothing but one trauma after another. People kept leaving him, rather intentionally or not, and it most take an awful lot of courage and strength to let someone in again.
"Maybe your rules," she said carefully, "maybe they're about you too, about you not wanting to hurt again."
"I might agree with you in principle, accept none of the women I've ever known could have hurt me. They never came close to touching my heart."
"Perhaps that's true," Elizabeth rationalized, "but maybe it's because you never gave them a chance. You've been so preoccupied, so very worried about a relationship's end, Will, but how could you know there would be one?"
He answered her as simply as if she asked what color was the sky. "Because none of those women were 'the one'."
"But how will you ever find her if you keep yourself closed off, if you keep your heart locked away?"
He wanted to say he'd already found her, wanted to take her in his arms and tell her he was looking at 'the one'. He'd opened up to her, bared his soul, and she'd been caring, supporting, and consoling, like a balm to his tortured heart, even if her analysis had been slightly off. But, in this instance at least, she was correct. It was fear this time that kept him from doing all that and more.
Elizabeth tried a new tactic, bluntly and boldly confronting him with the absolute truth. "You watched your mother's destruction, her quiet suffering at the hands of your father, and now you've made it your personal mission to see that no other woman ever gets her heart broken by a man again – at least not by you. It's commendable, Will. It says worlds about who you are, but you can't protect us all. And have you ever considered that your many rules meant to keep women at a distance – keep them from thinking or hoping they mean too much to you – could be the very things that hurt them the most?"
He seemed to consider this and she wondered if her words had been a mistake, adding yet another burden to a man that shouldn't be carrying any; none of them were his.
Her voice was soothing yet strong all the same, commanding his attention, as she said, "No matter how many women you save from heartache, it can't bring your mother back, or correct what happened to her....And, you know, women hurt men too. It's not exclusively the evil of your sex."
She resisted the urge to point out that, in putting her ruined love affair first and essentially giving up on life, his mother had abandoned Will just as much as his father had, only in a different way.
"Mistakes aren't limited to men alone," she told him. "Love can be vicious both ways. It's just the chance we all have to take. But Will," Elizabeth said, crossing the distance he'd created between them, "more important than the philosophy of love and its wrongs and rights is you. You've spent your whole life obsessed with your mother's pain, but what about your own? You must see how it's affected you, how it would affect any young child to witness what you did."
"I'm all right," he said stalwartly, selflessly. "I could always take care of myself. She was the one who couldn't. And I won't be like – "
"You're not your father, Will. I've never known anyone less like the description you just gave me." In an instant, Elizabeth bridged the remaining space between them, stopping just short of touching him. "You're warm and caring, supportive and understanding. You are nothing like him. You never could be."
She edged closer to him, now mere inches away. "You're determined to be a hero, Will Turner, and that says a lot of good things about who you are, but sometimes it's alright to just be a man, with failings and flaws, who thinks about his own needs sometimes, who sees what he wants and takes it – damn the consequences. Sometimes that's the right thing to do."
He didn't know if it was how adamantly she'd assured him he was nothing like his father, or if it was the confident, certain way she proclaimed that it was alright to simply be a flawed man instead of a hero, but suddenly he found himself believing her – and desiring her more in that moment than he ever thought it was possible to want anything.
"Take what I want, hmm?"
Her eyes collided with his. Something in the tone of his voice had changed, and heat crackled through her in response to it. "Yes," she said, wishing he would, and hoping above all else that she was, indeed, the thing he wanted.
Setting a hand to her trim waist, he repeated, "Damn the consequences?"
"Damn them," she whispered, leaning toward him, inviting his kiss.
His eyes met hers almost disbelievingly. He had craved this, imagined it a thousand different ways, and now here she was bidding his lips to hers. He placed his hand against the side of her neck, his fingers brushing her skin, making her shiver and her eyes fall closed.
His mouth was lowering to hers for the kiss he so badly craved when his forefinger grazed that golden chain that hung around her neck, the same one she'd always worn since the day he first met her, its mysterious bauble still a mystery concealed inside her shirt.
The progress of his lips halted. This afternoon had been the time for airing secrets, and why not get them all out now? He couldn't say just exactly why, but something compelled him to know once and for all what lie at the chains end.
When his kiss never came, Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open.
"What is this?" Will asked, fiddling with the chain at her neck. "You always wear it."
She regarded him, confused and more than a bit dazed. Why had he stopped?She didn't want him to stop. "It's a necklace," she explained, if a bit impatiently. "It's not important."
"It must be for you to never take it off," he pointed out, his thumb brushing across her cheek.
She felt a wave of desire wash over her at the simple touch. Oh, why was he talking about necklaces when his lips should be busy kissing hers? "It's just – my father gave it to me," she managed distractedly.
"May I see it?" he persisted.
"You want to see it – now?"
"Mm-hmm."
His palm cupped her neck, pressing into the sensitive skin, and all at once she wanted his hands all over her.
"Alright."
Elizabeth reached up, placing her hand atop Will's. Taking hold of it, she slowly led his fingers across her skin down the length of her neck, inhaling slowly, lost in the magic of his hand skimming over her.
She held his gaze unremitting as she brought his hand past her collarbone, but his eyes fell to watch the path of his fingers, his blood heating with naked lust as she led them down her chest.
Elizabeth felt a nearly overwhelming mélange of sensations when Will's fingers touched the swell of her breast: his warm breath falling across her neck; the rough weight of his hand; his heat; his scent, so male, so completely Will. But he'd asked to see her necklace. And so she would show it to him, before anything else.
She let go of his hand, her fingers dipping down into her cleavage to withdraw the necklace. And still he kept his fingers pressed to her chest. He seemed to be momentarily paralyzed, unable to move even if he wanted to – which he definitely did not…..Until he saw it.
His eyes narrowing in wonder, Will removed his hand from Elizabeth to gently cradle the golden coin that hung at the chains end. It was just as he remembered it: three progressively smaller circles adorned with swirls and Vs and various other etchings along their outer edge – all looking vaguely Central American – with a large menacing skill in the middle.
Her attention now focused on the pendant, Elizabeth explained, "It was a gift, from my father, around the time he first began foisting Ja – " She stopped short of admitting the rest, that it had been an appeasement token meant to pacify her after Weatherby started his aggressive attempts to push James at her. "He meant to make amends after ….an argument," she tactfully corrected, which was still the truth. "He found it in an antique shop in London." She ran her thumb over the face of the skull in awe. "A real pirate medallion, can you imagine? In my entire adult lifetime, this was my father's only concession to the woman I really am. That's why I wear it everyday, that and….there's just something that draws me to it; I can't explain."
Will's fingers twisted, turning the medallion in his hand, and she looked up at him, taking in his startled expression for the first time.
"Will, what's the matter?" she asked as he examined the right upper quadrant of the coin's back, polishing his forefinger over the pronounced gouge clearly visible there.
"It's mine."
"What?" This time it was Elizabeth's eyes that crinkled in confusion.
"The medallion, this very same one, it was mine."
"I don't understand."
"My father always said I had the sea in my blood and he meant it, literally. Apparently…ah…my ancestors were actually pirates," he divulged, sounding not nearly as proud as she would have been. "And this medallion – supposedly a part of a treasure my great, great, great someone ransacked – was passed down to the eldest male in my family for centuries. My father gave it to me just before he left, and I kept it all those years – wore it everyday, like you – even after my opinion of him changed; it was the only thing I had left of him. But finally, near the end, when my mother was too sick to work I had to pawn it for grocery money. I haven't seen it since. Until now…..It's….It's…."
"Amazing," she finished. "It's amazing that I would be the one to receive it, and…."
"And after all these years it would return here to me," Will concluded.
"Here," Elizabeth said, her fingers displacing the stray tendrils of hair that had fallen at her neck as she searched for the chains clasp. "You must take it. It's yours."
There's just something that draws me to it, her words repeated in his head.
Will put his hand over hers to stop her. "No. It's yours now."" He rather liked the thought of her wearing a trinket that had been in his family for generations, that was a symbol of the Turner bloodline. It seemed fitting.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," he answered, pressing the coin back to her chest and letting it slip through his fingers. Hanging free on the chain once more, the medallion fell back down to rest cradled between her breasts – and he thought it all the more fitting.
"So you really are a pirate? It should come as no surprise," Elizabeth smiled to herself.
Will didn't know what she was talking about, but the smile on her lips was dangerous to his resistance, and he took several steps back. Look what already had nearly happened. If he had a shot with her, if he actually had a chance to kiss her, and touch her, and hold her in his arms, he certainly wasn't going to do so for the first time in a dark, dusty smithy.
"You make a good pirate," she said, her voice soft and alluring, as her eyes trailed him up and down. "The kind I like anyway." If he were hers, on occasion she'd make him wear the outfit to bed – what fantasy fulfillment that would be! With the look he gave her seemed as if he'd read her mind.
Up until that moment, Will had again forgotten he was still wearing the outfit, but the heat in her eyes as they swept over his body was a steamy reminder. No matter what she said, Elizabeth had a serious pirate fetish, not that he minded – pirate was in his blood. And the things he could do to her in this costume, the sort of role-play they could have, would feed her fantasy for years…..But not yet.
"I'll just take this off for now," he remarked in quiet amusement.
"So," Elizabeth said, as he gathered their swords from the floor, "what's in store for us tonight?"
Will crossed the room to stand before her, looking as sexy as ever in the costume that must have been designed by a woman. He shot her a hot, wicked smile. "I don't know. You tell me."
AN: Wow, that was a long one! But there was a lot to cover in this chapter: the smithy; Will and Elizabeth sword fighting; the truth of Will's past revealed and why he has issues with women and relationships; and my take on the Medallion/Below Deck scene.
I haven't done so in a while, but thank you for all of your kind reviews. I'm glad you like it so far. I know many of you have expressed the desire to see Will and Elizabeth get together already, but when I first outlined this story I really wanted to stay true to the original characters. And, remember, in the actual Pirates film they were madly in love from the very beginning but it took them literally years to do anything about it. So I thought it was important in my story to show a slow build of that chemistry and connection but not jump into anything physical too soon. What that means is a lot of "almost moments" and forward then backward steps. But take heart: they will reach a milestone next chapter.
