Wendy stood outside the address in Highgate, not entirely sure why she was there. Curiosity, boredom, perhaps. James, she knew, was busy with money matters that morning, the children were in lessons or at play, and she found herself at a loose end. So she had extracted the card given to her by Lillie Lenton and decided to investigate the address.

As she had walked she had pondered her intentions in drawing closer to the Suffragette cause. Did she truly have a desire to become more actively involved?

She would like to meet Mrs Pankhurst, certainly. She was curious to see what someone of such remarkable strength and spirit would look like and sound like. She wanted to know if she would recognise anything of herself in her.

But once Wendy reached the house, she stood quietly outside with her eyes closed in denial. What was she trying to achieve? Did James not give her enough? Was all of this – James, the Suffragettes – an attempt to regain that glorious sense of freedom she had had when in Neverland? Was her life so empty otherwise? Surely not.

She turned to leave. This was unnecessary and destabilising.

'Wendy! It is Wendy, isn't it?'

Instinctively, she looked back. The door to the house had opened and there, her mouth wide with the most beaming smile, stood Lillie, the girl from the lecture. Wendy's heart sank. She could not turn away now. Lillie was rushing down the front steps towards her. 'You came! Oh, Wendy, I thought I recognised you. Come in, come in, we shall find you something to drink and eat.'

Wendy found herself being dragged up the stairs and into the house. It was an imposing house, but seemed cloistered and gloomy inside and had a strange smell she could not identify; not an unpleasant one, on the contrary, it made her want to stay and inhale more - sweet, rather intoxicating. She was motioned into the front drawing room. The curtains were heavy and drawn across nearly entirely. It was unnaturally dark for the time of day and Wendy strained to adjust her eyes. The room was dressed with dark reds and greens with gold ornamentation. Velvet and silks seemed to adorn every surface, draping luxuriantly and rather decadently across divans and chairs. It reminded her of a room she had been in on a ship many years before.

A woman, roughly the same age as Wendy, was sitting with her left leg raised onto a divan, smoking from a long cigarette holder. Lillie stood behind Wendy, nudging her forward to the other woman, as if presenting her for sacrifice.

'Olive, this is Wendy, Wendy Darling. Remember? I told you I had met someone at the lecture. She came. I told you she would. Wendy, meet my dearest friend, Olive Wharry.'

Olive Wharry. The name was familiar. Wendy was sure she recognised the name; she had read it in the papers, she was certain. The smell of cigarette smoke, stronger than James' pipe, caught in her throat and she had to banish it with a sharp and sudden cough.

'Wendy Darling? What a delightful name,' smirked Olive. She had a low voice, almost masculine. 'Are you a darling, Wendy?' she drawled with a rather intimidating smirk. Wendy managed a gentle smile back but had the strongest urge to leave. 'Lillie, my love!' called Olive to Lillie, who had vanished into another room. 'I thought you were going out?' She didn't once take her eyes off Wendy. It made her feel as if her clothes had come undone and were revealing more than they should.

'I was,' said Lillie, returning with biscuits and lemonade. 'But now Wendy is here there is no rush.'

Olive sat up, uncoiling each limb with slow, sinewy movements akin to a dancer's. She reached for a small glass of green liquid.

'So, Wendy, sit down.' She did, reluctantly. 'You're going to help us with our little venture at Kew, are you?'

Wendy grew even more uncomfortable. 'Well, I'm not entirely sure I can.'

'Oh, do. It will be such fun.' Olive glanced at Lillie and they exchanged a smile which seemed to convey secrets unspoken.

'What exactly is it you intend to do?'

Olive's shoulders rose up casually. 'Just a little disruption, that is all.'

'A march?'

'Well … I suppose we will have to walk there, yes.'

'I don't know if it is such a good idea me being there.'

Olive flashed her a look of such ferocious determination that Wendy felt as if she was back at school. Gone was the unctuous charm. Olive's voice was suddenly cold and bitterly certain.

'We need women like you, Wendy. We need men to sit up and listen. Nothing will be achieved otherwise. It can only be done by driving right into the heart of what people care about, of what is dear to them.'

Wendy could voice her own opinions too. She cocked an eyebrow. 'And is Kew Gardens what people care about?'

Olive stared at her flatly for a moment before smiling loosely and dragging long on her cigarette. 'You're married, Wendy?'

'Yes.'

'What does your husband do?'

'He's a banker.'

'Poor thing.'

Wendy glared at Olive. Her smirk deepened. She reminded Wendy somewhat of James, but only of the things she had disliked about James when she was a child; James, the bully; James, the manipulator. She wanted to leave this place.

'My husband is happy in his work.'

'One of those, eh?'

'Are you married, Olive?' asked Wendy forcefully.

'No. I do not intend to be subjected to the will of any man.'

'It doesn't have to be that way. There are many men who understand and agree with the cause of women's suffrage. Some men do indeed treat women as their equals.' She knew she wasn't referring to Jeremy. Is that how she saw James? She almost laughed aloud at the revelation, that it was the buccaneer, the great pirate captain, slayer of men, with whom she knew she was most at one, who respected her, and whom she respected.

'Your husband treats you as his equal, does he?' queried Olive.

'Not my husband,' she muttered, still reeling from her realisation.

'Oh?' Olive leaned in, stubbing out her cigarette and smiling attentively. 'Not your husband?'

Wendy was silent.

'But there is another man who treats you as his equal, is there?'

She could not look up. Her cheeks burned red.

'My my,' continued Olive, her voice oily with intent. 'Are you a naughty girl, Wendy?'

'Whatever do you mean?'

'We all have different ways of seeking emancipation. If your husband does not provide you with freedom, perhaps another does. An inamorato, a paramour … a lover?'

She did not reply. Her silence merely provided Olive with confirmation.

'And what does he do, your lover? Is he a banker too? I doubt it somehow.'

'I have to go.' Wendy stood up suddenly. This woman was seeing too much, forcing Wendy to think too painfully. 'Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Wharry.'

She rushed to the door.

'Wendy! Don't go.' Lillie rushed down the hallway after her. 'Oh, don't mind Olive. She can be rather forceful at times, but we need people like her. And like you. Look, we're meeting at the Tea Room at Kew at ten o'clock next Wednesday. Do be there.'

'Ten o'clock in the morning? I'm not sure I will be able to-'

'No, not in the morning! Ten of the evening. Tell your husband you are attending a lecture or concert or some such or that you have a poorly maiden aunt on whom to attend.'

'Lillie, I really don't think …'

Lillie took Wendy suddenly and hugged her tightly before giving her a sweet kiss, full on her lips. It took Wendy so much by shock, but was so tender and gentle that it did not occur to her to pull away. It was like being bombarded with Tinker Bell all over again. And it was rather charming.

'For me, Wendy Darling, darling Wendy, for me. Oh, do it for me.'

Wendy pressed Lillie's hand hard and turned down the steps with a gentle smile.

'Ten o'clock next Wednesday!' called Lillie.

'But Kew is not open at ten o'clock, surely?' But Lillie had already disappeared back into the house.

Now Wendy certainly wished she had not gone to Highgate. She returned home the long way, the way she often returned these days, via Claridge's. By the time she got there it was two o'clock. James may well have finished his business by now. She burned to see him; she needed to see him, to cleanse her from her experience at the house.

She knocked on the door of his suite and waited. There was no answer. She wanted to cry; the force of her disappointment startled her. She turned to go, willing her feet to drag her away, but just as she moved up the corridor, the door was opened. She looked back. A face appeared, surrounded by thick dark curls, curls that were unruly and unkempt. James stood there in his dark red gown, the same one he had been wearing that day she had been brought to his cabin. Despite being as devastatingly handsome as ever, he looked a frightful sight. He was bleary and disoriented, like a little boy awoken from a dream. But Wendy had never been so pleased to see anyone. She practically ran back along to him, her face breaking into a beaming smile of joy and relief.

'Hello.'

James rubbed his eyes slowly, trying to erase the sleep which had overcome him. His other arm was without hook. 'I wasn't expecting you. I fear I am not terribly well-arranged.' He ran the stub of his arm through his hair, making it bloom into an even more chaotic mess.

She couldn't help but giggle. 'James … I'm sorry … I had no intention of disturbing you. Do you wish me to go?'

His hand came out and grabbed her wrist ferociously hard. 'No. I most certainly do not wish you to go. Don't you dare go, my Wendy.'

And he pulled her into the room, slammed the door behind her and tossed her onto the bed.

He was quickly undoing her clothes. 'You see, my dear … If one is to be a successful pirate captain, one must learn to rouse oneself swiftly when the need arises.'

'Have I roused you, James Hook?' She reached to push down his undergarments. They both glanced between his legs and Hook looked back to her with a wry cock of his eyebrow.

'It would appear so.' And he pushed fully inside her.

-xox-

Afterwards they lay quietly with Wendy tracing an invisible pattern over his scarred torso with the tip of her finger.

'I was kissed by a girl today.'

She didn't see the slight flare in James' eyes. He managed to keep his voice remarkably even. 'Were you indeed?'

'By a Suffragette. She and her friend want me to go on a protest of some kind with them next week.'

'What sort of a kiss?'

'Quite a pleasant one. Not long, don't worry, but it was on the lips. It reminded me of Neverland. Of doing things I've never done before.'

'If you wish for things you have never done before, I can be most obliging.'

She smiled and kissed him. 'I know. Oh, I know, my darling. The house they were in, these two … it made me think of your cabin.'

'I like my cabin.' It was said rather wistfully, she thought.

'I like it too. But then … surely you have a new one now. You must have a new ship.'

'I do, as you and your chums kindly relieved me of the Jolly Roger.' It was said with the faintest snarl.

'I'm sorry.'

'You weren't at the time.'

'How did you come by your new ship?'

'It was acquired from a very wealthy cloth merchant who had lost himself in the Neverland. Wealthy, but exceedingly dim-witted and sluggish. Embarkation and annihilation took all of fifteen minutes.'

Wendy went quiet.

'What?' asked Hook.

'I didn't say anything.'

'Exactly.'

She released the slightest sigh. 'Sometimes I forget about the – annihilation – aspect of your … profession.'

He looked down at her. 'You know who I am better than anyone, Wendy.'

'We've never talked about it.' She had traced a line down his arm and now caressed the stump with accepting tenderness.

'Do you wish to?' he murmured, overcome with her integrity.

She glanced up, meeting the forget-me-not blue of his eyes with the deep, knowing chestnut of hers. 'Not now. Just kiss me.'

He smirked and cocked an eyebrow. 'I'm not a girl.'

'Thank goodness for that.'

So he kissed her, all hair, beard, moustache and brutal, bruising lips. And she liked it very much.

'Will you go on this protest?' he asked as his mouth explored every warm dip and indent of her upper body.

'I doubt it. No … I shouldn't think so. Although poor Lillie is so keen for me to go. But the other woman unnerved me. I don't particularly want to see her again.'

'Why did she unnerve you?'

She reminded me of you. She thought that, but she didn't say it.

'She could tell I had a lover.'

'Just the one?'

'Oh, stop it.'

A clock struck the hour.

'Goodness, is that three? I must go home. The children will be finishing lessons.' She nudged James from his place nuzzling at her breast and tore herself from his bed reluctantly. Wendy rose and dressed quickly, leaving him sprawled across the bed, his hair even more dishevelled than before. It made her giggle.

'What?' he drawled.

'You look a little in need of grooming.'

'Grooming is all well and good when one is dining with one's housemaster or engaging in negotiations with a fellow privateer, but at moments such as this … I can think of better uses for my time,' he smirked.

'Negotiations? I can't imagine you ever negotiating, James.'

'A gentleman always parleys first, if possible. Hast thou not heard of the pirate code, my beauty?'

She grinned again. 'Not really, but if you tell me about it in that deliciously archaic voice of yours, I promise I will sit and listen attentively … however, not now. I must go, James.'

He pouted. She came around to him and leant down to kiss him deeply. 'Do you miss it?'

'What?'

'Piracy.'

'Not when I have you in my bed.'

'But at other times?'

'A little. I'm not used to - this.' He smacked the bed next to him. 'It's so damned … unyielding. A little rise and fall is always preferable … I'm sure you agree.'

She smiled. 'I have to go, my darling. I cannot come to you tomorrow, and then at the weekend Jeremy will be home. I'm sorry.'

'I promise you that next time I will be better groomed.'

'Oh, I think I rather like you like this.'

'Do you indeed?' He reached up to kiss her again. She let him. How could she not? But when his hands started to work their way over her body yet again, she pulled back and nimbly evaded his grasp.

'I must not allow myself to be distracted, James!'

'Why ever not? Apart from me, I believe everyone should allow themselves to be nothing but distracted.'

She blew him a kiss. 'Farewell, my love.'

'Your what?' His words almost stuck. He stared, his eyes misting in revelation.

Wendy's heart was so full she feared it would falter. She smiled across with aching sincerity. 'You heard me … my love,' and she slipped away.

Oh, please, please, pretty please can I have a James Hook of my own, even with messy hair. Actually, especially with messy, bed hair. LL x