~
You give me a feeling that I never felt before
And I deserve it, I think I deserve it.
- A. Keys
Elizabeth sat on a barstool at the Empress sipping limeade and pondering, like she had been for the past ten hours, what to do about the complicated conundrum that was her life. It was just past eleven in the morning and the Empress was still closed to the public, leaving Elizabeth to the relative solitude of the empty club. It looked strange and different with the overhead lights on, but familiar enough to remind her of the night spent there with Will. She took another sip and looked around the room. With only Jack and a few other employees scattered here and there about the building, she was left conveniently alone with her thoughts and memories – although that hadn't gotten her much of anywhere so far.
Last night she'd been nothing short of a mess. After running away from Will in full blown tears, she'd spent most of the night crying and thinking, tossing and turning, and generally feeling miserable. She knew what she wanted, but what she wanted she couldn't have. And what she could have, try as she might, she could never seem to make herself want.
In all of her contemplating, one truth glaringly stood out: how unhappy she'd been in her life before she came here, unhappy and trapped and merely existing. Ever since she was a young girl, pretty much from the day her mother died onward, she'd spent her life internalizing her thoughts and feelings, her wants and dreams, because they were improper, unacceptable, and discouraged at every avenue. By the time she reached the age of twenty-six her family and friends had no idea who she really was, and keeping it all bottled up inside had become second nature to her. Until Will. He knew her heart; he was the only one. He understood her and accepted her, and even appreciated her just the way she was. It was a connection that felt too perfect, too right, to not somehow be fated.
Her relationship with James didn't come anywhere close. Things between them had never worked out the way her father had hoped. Sometimes they were completely at odds, though her fiancé was clueless to see this. Other times there was a sort of friendship. All in all, she felt a brotherly affection for him at best and never could imagine living out her life as his wife, raising his children, growing old with him – and she certainly couldn't think of sharing his bed with any degree of excitement. There was an absence of any attraction on her side and the idea of intimacies with him brought on a lingering sense of aversion. She didn't want him touching her or even really kissing her, which is why she'd held him off this long. She'd even begun to think that maybe he was right. Maybe she was too cold. Maybe there was something wrong with her. She ought to be able to work up some excitement for a man who wasn't fictional, and she wanted to. She wanted all those things for herself she'd only heard and read about – hunger, yearning desire, raw carnality, and everything that went with them – but she'd never come across any man who could stir them in her, or even encountered one who could truly hold her interest for more than a day.
And then she'd ended up here and met Will. With him, every feeling, every emotion that she always knew should be there – from affection to passion, from love to lust – was present in spades. The problem was Will desired her, he even genuinely liked her, but he didn't love her. He wasn't in love with her the way that she was with him, which was no good, no good at all. Even now, days away from saying goodbye forever, she'd had no sense whatsoever of commitment from him. She shouldn't open her heart or her body to him under such circumstances, but the unfortunate thing was she wanted to do both. Yet staying on the island and choosing Will would require going against her father, forever severing her ties to James, and probably being forced to do so with her country as well. There was so much at stake, so much more than just herself and her heartache – which were heavy enough burdens on their own. She couldn't with a good conscious cause such strife and upheaval and pain for what might very likely soon fizzle and die. Nor could she give up so much personally with those odds. Turning her back on her country, burning that bridge, would be irreversible, and what would she do then when Will grew tired of her and moved on, as he was bound to do? She knew all this logically, knew what the wisest, safest course of action was. And still, going back to what she'd known before, going back to marry James, was unthinkable.
This was an unsolvable dilemma. No matter which way she chose, she couldn't win. The maddening, cyclical, impossible thoughts that haunted her now were the very same ones she wrestled with the night before, the one that had brought her out walking in the first place. When she set out, she'd had absolutely zero idea of running into Will. Or of all that would transpire afterwards…..and her mortifying reaction to it. And hadn't that just been the icing on the cake? She'd cried in front of him and embarrassed herself horribly, but she couldn't hold it in. She'd felt…..oh, she'd felt so much, the sort of things that had previously only existed in heated dreams and waking amorous imaginings, and even then they weren't nearly so vivid or marvelous. The only thing that kept Elizabeth from giving herself completely to Will in the pool – where Anna or Jack or someone else might have easily happened by – was the knowledge that for him it would simply be one more encounter but for her it would be everything. That is why she'd cried. That is why she'd run away.
Yet in the darkness of the night, tossing and turning in her cold empty bed, she'd wondered at the sense of it. It was all a very practical plan: keep him at bay, keep herself from getting hurt, don't do anything she'd regret later. Except the thing of it was, she already was hurting, a pain that would only increase after she'd said goodbye to Will for good. There was heartache down either path. So why couldn't she just choose what she wanted then? She was so tired of fighting it. But that's when her sensible side would remind her of all that was at stake.
Pondering it, Elizabeth was reminded of the conversation she'd had with Will during their night at Calypso. She'd confessed to him that she envied Jack and his ability to live selfishly…..
"I've discovered that doing exactly what you want isn't as easy as I thought. There are always consequences for your actions and, if I make a misstep and choose the wrong path, I have no one to blame but myself", she'd told him.
At the time she was thinking of herself, of protecting her heart and not getting hurt, but she'd already discovered that was inevitable, inescapable. She'd fallen in love with Will and that went hand in hand with hurt. If that was all that was at risk anymore, right now she'd give up, give in, and go for it. No, it was everything else riding on this that troubled her mind and heart, keeping her locked in indecision. If she chose Will there would be no going back. Could she safely do that? Based on what she'd seen so far, the answer was a resounding no.
She'd figured that all out last night, weeping into her pillow, feeling like the situation was positively hopeless. Until, sometime in the wee small hours, another alternative came to her, a way that she could have and experience what she wanted and still shoulder her duty. What if she allowed herself the indulgence and followed her heart for just one night but still did the sensible thing and left afterwards. Then could she give in? Didn't she deserve a little something, a little taste of happiness?
It was this new, intriguing, surprisingly feasible thought that had brought her out of her bed and into the Empress. She'd wanted to revisit the one other place where she'd already very nearly given into to her heart. Perhaps here she could find some clarity and ask herself if she really wanted to open that door, or simply continuing running.
"Thinkin' about dear William?" Jack asked, suddenly behind her, his voice cutting into her thoughts and startling her enough that she jumped.
After a second of recovery time, Elizabeth responded. "I'm an engaged woman, Jack. I shouldn't be spending my time thinking about another man."
"And yet you are." She looked ready to object, but he stopped her with a smile and a raised hand. "Don't bother trying to deny it. You forget I was here the night you made quite a show with him. In fact, if memory serves me, it was right on this barstool," he said, indicating the empty stool next to her. "Any other place would've charged him for that."
"I was drunk," Elizabeth offered. Those words had become her mantra. She felt like having them printed on a card to save herself the time and trouble.
Easily seeing through her, Jack shrewdly countered, "And that's what it takes to lose your judgment with him? Being drunk?"
While her public lap dance had been embarrassing, she shuddered to think what Jack would say if he had witnessed her encounter with Will in the pool last night.
"No," she sighed. "It doesn't even take that."
Jack shook his head at the waste of it all. "You want to be with Will, but you don't think it can happen. He wants you, but he'll never believe he can have you. It's a silly game you two are playing, especially here in the bottom of the ninth."
Her eyes crinkled in confusion. "What?"
"Ninth inning," he explained. "The end of the game. American Baseball. No? Not a fan?" At her blank look, he shrugged. "Hmph, she doesn't get it."
"I thought it was quite good," Ragetti said, passing by with his mop and bucket.
"Wasn't it?"
"Excellent analogy," Ragetti concurred, until Jack snapped out of his self-glory long enough to rediscover the point, fixing his employee with a look that told him to get back to work.
Refocusing his attention on Elizabeth, he told her, "Let's just say that Will's been ready to get to bat with you for a long time – I'm guessing since the night you met – and," Jack snickered, "he's more than eager to provide you both with a grand slam, if you get my meaning." Elizabeth had heard just enough crude talk in her day that she did. "But you're both too busy focusing on the audience to see the potential of what could be happening in the game. You might want to decide to just play it, before it's all over and everyone goes home."
With that, he walked away, leaving her to consider it on her own.
Jack was right about one thing: time was short and it was wasting. Perhaps there was something to what he said. Maybe she should just be thinking about the here and now and worry about the future later. The pirate philosophy, she and Will had dubbed it; "Do whatever comes naturally and worry about whether it was the right choice tomorrow." If she added in her 'only for a night' clause, it might just work. Theoretically, it made sense. Why suffer now when there would be enough of that to come later? She should be enjoying herself while she had the chance, getting whatever pleasure she could while it was still to be had.
The more she thought about it, the more wonderful it sounded. For the first time, without trying to block any of it out, Elizabeth allowed herself to relive the night before. She felt at home in Will's arms in a way she'd never felt anywhere or with anyone else. And more than just that, she came alive. He stirred up such feelings in her. He actually made her tingle. Didn't she have a right to tingle and burn, to live and feel, for once?
Elizabeth thought back on meeting Tia Dalma and her gift of the compass she still had in her possession. She'd tried it out over and over again the night before, and it unfailingly pointed across the way to Will's cabana, no matter how many times she changed rooms and directions to try to confuse it. Unstoppably, she flashed back on Tia's discerning statement: "You'd like to test the strength of the fire he ignites in you." She'd had a little sampling of it in the pool, and it had been fantastic, amazing. She wanted more of it. She wanted it all.
"Why fight it, child?" Tia had asked, and Will repeated the same words to her last night as he held her, touched her, kissed her, drove her half out of her mind. Give in to your destiny...Tia's words echoed through her.
Maybe she could…..Maybe she would. The thought made her happily jiggle in time to the soft music overhead as she walked around the bar to refill her virgin drink. The last thing she needed now was alcohol clouding her judgment, although it seemed her decision had in effect already been made. Of course, that didn't mean she planned on showing up at Will's bungalow in the nude. Nothing that drastic. Just that this was her last night, her last chance to be free and follow her heart, to drop her defenses and let go of anything holding her back, to just be a woman out with a man…..a man who made her tingle. The very idea put a spring in her step and a smile on her face.
Will entered the Empress then. Stopping at the top of the stairs, his eyes swept the room, looking for Jack. He found Elizabeth instead, walking out from behind the bar, looking so damn beguiling, her hips gently swaying to the low music – hips he had touched and caressed only the night before. He descended the stairs unconsciously, almost like an out of body experience. The urge was so fierce; he was powerless to fight the indomitable pull to her. Once they were on equal ground, he paused to admire the incredible view below the hemline of her flouncing skirt. He loved those long, toned legs of hers. How he ached to feel them wrapped around him.
Before he could finish the thought, Elizabeth pulled herself up on a barstool and turned. Their eyes met and connected. They connected. A world of sexual tension and longing swirled between them. Will had no idea how to approach her after last night. She had been willing, eager even, but had then grown upset – nearly hysterical – and overcome in intense sobbing that ripped at his heart. He had no idea what he'd done, if anything, to hasten her tears, but whatever it was he hoped to fix it and certainly not repeat it, if he was indeed the cause. He hesitated, unsure of what to do, but Jack met him before he so much as stepped away from the stairs, making the decision for him.
"Well, well, mate," Jack said, leading him to the side of the staircase, behind the club's long banquette and tables. "I've been wondering where you were. I wanted to ask you if you knew anything about what happened last night."
"Why?" Will questioned, suddenly focused and intense, sounding worried. "What happened last night?" Was their a breach in security, he wondered, something to do with Elizabeth or her father, whose flight was due in just over an hour?
"There were some strange goings on in the swimming pool."
"Oh?" Will asked, his jaw tightening almost imperceptivity. "In the guest pool?"
"No. Curiously enough, at the private pool."
"Hmm. That is strange," Will answered noncommittally. "What exactly did you see?"
"What makes you think there was anything to see?" Jack rounded on him with the question.
"Because you said something happened," was Will's calm response, but he was well aware Jack must know, must have seen something, or he wouldn't be trying to pin him down this way.
"Last night I heard a raised voice coming from that direction, a female voice, one that sounded an awfully lot like Elizabeth's. And I found a woman's ring at the bottom of the pool this morning." Jack paused artfully, giving Will the opportunity to spill. When he didn't, Jack continued, "I know you sometimes go for a swim when you can't sleep. And I know last night was one of those nights; I saw you in the pool on my way home. Anything you care to share?"
Will was stone-faced. "No."
"I wonder, what were her hand was doing underwater that caused her ring to rub right off?" Jack smirked.
"Jack – "
"The raised voice; she was screaming your name, wasn't she? I mean like, really screaming your name, as in 'Ohhh, Will. Right there! Do it again'," he mimicked in falsetto.
"You are such a wanker," Will said, giving him a punch to the shoulder.
"Just tell me, did you do her in the pool last night or not? Because, I've got to say, it's not the wisest choice for your first time. I know the water's somewhat heated, but still. You're not going to look to your best advantage. Shrinkage and all," Jack grimaced. "Women know about that now, right?"
Will shook his head derisively. "I'm more of a gentleman than you are, Jack. Sex in public usually isn't my thing." Although he felt a slight twinge of guilt when he remembered that he did try to get Elizabeth naked in the pool. He was lifting her nightgown when she stopped him. "And, believe it or not," he continued his pithy retort, "size and performance have never been worries. Then again," he shot over his shoulder as he walked away, "I'm not you."
But his cockiness with Jack soon slipped, and Will hesitated near the tables. He didn't know if Elizabeth was ready to speak to him yet after what happened, but she'd seen him come in and hadn't shied away from his glance or left the club. He took it as a positive sign and crossed over to where she sat at the bar, sipping her drink.
Will slid up onto the stool next to hers and she turned. "Hey," he greeted her, not knowing what else to say, as 'I love you desperately' hardly seemed the appropriate opener.
"Hey," she answered back, meeting his eye, if a little unsurely.
"Do you come here often?" he quipped, hoping the cheesy line would break some of the awkwardness between them.
A helpless laugh bubbled up past her throat. "About as often as you, I think," Elizabeth answered, playing along. Her eyes danced with amusement. Then her lips curved, joining them. "And please tell me you know CPR, because you just took my breath away," she rejoined with another comically tasteless line.
He gave her a slow easy smile in response, and her heart faltered. He looked wonderful – apparently their late night had no ill affect upon him – and smelled delectable, a tempting combination of subtle aftershave and another appealing scent that was all Will. "Did you….did you come here to talk to Jack?" she asked, motioning to the man whose dreadlocks just disappeared down the back hallway, presumably on the way to his office.
In fact, Will had come to find Jack, but as soon as he spotted Elizabeth whatever he meant to say to the would-be pirate took a backseat to seeing her. "Just returning to the scene of the crime," he replied, indicating the barstool on which he sat, the same one she'd pushed him down on and treated him to an impromptu lap dance. Before she could react, he preemptively added, "But I know, you were drunk."
She smiled. "Believe it or not, I wasn't going to say that. I'm through defending my behavior."
He glanced over at her glass suspiciously. "You're not drinking now are you?"
She laughed again, a musical sound that had the pleasing effect of warming both his heart and his body. "Just water and lime juice. Sometimes I prefer to be innocent."
"But not all the time?" Will questioned, leaning back against the bar and watching her.
She knew he alluded to the night before. The gleam in his eyes gave it away, not merely dark in passion as before, but now also knowing. He'd kissed her, touched her, made her tremble. He knew he held the power to set a fire in her that only he could satisfy. And it was good, so good, between then. Why was she still fighting it?
Her gaze tangled with his. They were long past the point of pretending. He'd kissed her, it was true, but then they'd stopped. She could have left; he would've let her, she knew. But she stayed, stayed and escalated their encounter by touching him, caressing him intimately, and instigating the next kiss herself. "No, not all the time."
Her admission hung in the air between them and they sat there for a long moment, just looking at each other, until Elizabeth finally broke the silence. "Thank you," she said quietly, "for last night."
His brow rose. "Which part?"
A hot blush spread over her cheeks. "When you said that you would help me, if ever I needed you."
"And I meant it," Will assured her with the same quiet intensity that had touched her before. After a pause, he gently asked, "Are you going to tell me now why you were crying?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "No. But thank you for that, too."
Disappointment colored his features. She was the only one who knew his secrets. He'd let her in so completely. He wished she would do the same for him. "Really? That's all I get?"
Hearing the frustration in his voice, she looked away in. He was right, of course. He'd bared his soul to her, revealing painful personal truths he hadn't told anyone else. He deserved the same from her, but how could see tell him she was crying because she wanted more than anything in the world for him to love her?
Elizabeth met his gaze again, giving him a partial truth. "I was thinking about leaving."
His velvety eyes softened and warmed as they regarded her. "Don't you want to go?"
"I….You know there are issues. It's – it's complicated."
Giving her a long considering look, Will nodded. "Well just remember this, I know the real you. I know you, and no matter what happens, no matter what you decide, I always will."
He said it with such sensitivity, such a depth of sincerity, and that was it. She was done fighting against this. Consequences be damned, she wanted her one night with him, one night of being together like a regular couple, to follow her heart with nothing to hold her back.
Will waited for Elizabeth's response, but apparently that had been the right thing to say for it was like someone had turned a switch in her. She smiled at him and there was something different in it, something that sent him reeling.
"I know that you know me, Will, in a way that no one else ever has," she softly told him. "And I'll never forget that. I don't want to forget any of the times we shared."
She swiveled nearer then and he was suddenly very glad he was sitting. He wasn't sure if his knees would have held him beneath the onslaught of the look she gave him. It reminded him of the way she looked in the pool – right before she'd touched and kissed him senseless.
Pinning her with his gaze, he broached the subject she steadily avoided. "Are we going to talk about what happened between us last night?"
She thought for a beat. "No."
Will nodded his understanding. "Regrets come morning. I figured as much would happen." He gazed at her with contrition, knowing his part in the night before, how he'd pushed past her initial reluctance by seducing her into compliance. "I'm sorry," he said with utter sincerity.
Her heart went out to him. Such a different reaction than James's in a similar situation, only Will hadn't nudged her towards anything she didn't fully want herself – something she had wanted practically since the moment they met. "You've nothing to be sorry for."
Say it. Say the rest. Go for it. Before it's too late, her heart frantically directed. It was down to the wire after all, now or never. And in that instant the last of her qualms flew away. She was ready to hang propriety and be with Will – even if it wasn't forever and he didn't love her – if nothing else than for the memories and the way he made her feel whenever she was with him. Now all she had to do was let him know.
"Maybe I will talk about it," Elizabeth recanted, her gaze talking a journey over his features. "Because as upset as I was later – as much as I cried and made a complete fool of myself – all of last night wasn't bad. It wasn't bad at all."
"No?" he questioned, his eyes holding hers.
"No. Just the opposite."
She edged in even closer to him until their legs were just barely touching and Will shifted uncomfortably on the stool, wondering how she could get him so hot just by looking at him that way.
"There were parts I liked quite well," she divulged, reaching out and touching him, letting her hand linger on his arm. She'd discovered last night that touching him was addictive. Doing so without restraint or caution would be mind-blowing.
Will's eyes filled with dark emotion at what he read in hers. She made his blood heat every time she touched him, and he knew it was the same for her. He couldn't bear to lose her. At the very least he had to hold on to her a little while longer…..And as much as it surprised him, she seemed to be offering the opportunity. She was sending signals left and right that, whatever had changed, she was now open to something between them.
Elizabeth uncrossed then re-crossed her legs towards him. After he finished following the movement, he looked up into her face, finding a welcoming smile and come-hither eyes.
Wanting to keep her on this track, keep her from changing her mind, he took her hand in his and, as it conveniently lay against her knee, left their joined hands resting against her leg. "I enjoyed last night too, more than you can imagine."
"I haven't any regrets, Will," she professed. "And I have another idea for tonight."
"I'm listening," he replied, his eyes smoldering as his thumb caressed her palm, then her inner wrist.
She slowly wet her suddenly dry lips. "My father and James are coming. Everything will change after that. Tonight has sort of a 'last night' feeling to it. And I want it to be the best, the most memorable night of my life."
"And where do I fit in to this?"
"The same place you always have. You've helped me from the very beginning to have my holiday, live out all my 'firsts'. Tonight's going to be the highlight of them all. I want to throw all caution to the wind – no holding back – and have my pleasure while I can."
"Caution to the wind? No holding back? With you, I can definitely do that."
"Good," Elizabeth answered. A naughty smile played across her lips. "Wait till you see my dress," she said, an undertone of breathy seduction clear in her voice.
He involuntarily leaned in closer to her. "Will I like it?"
"You'll just have to wait and see," she teased. "But if I was a betting woman, I'd say you'll love it."
His eyes danced down her figure before returning to her face. "I'm sure I will."
"Confidentially," she flirtatiously whispered, "I wanted to wear something slightly scandalous."
"Then I'm positive I will."
Elizabeth laughed softly, but an edge of gravity tempered her eyes. "I'm glad you'll be there, Will. I hate these things, playing a part for the benefit of everyone else. If they're going to make me do it, this time I'm going to get something out of it for myself."
He arched a brow, giving her a wicked look. "Me?"
She laughed again. "I meant some fun."
"You can have me too," he said, his gaze smoky and his smile heart-stopping. "Just so you know."
"I'll keep that in mind." She'd answered him lightly, but with a definite hint of intrigue and interest in her voice. Still, her next words disappointed him. "I should go, Will." Luckily, they seemed to disappoint her too. "I have to get to the airport to meet my father."
"His plane's due in about an hour, right?"
"Right."
"I could take you," Will offered. "Remember, we decided last night."
"I remember. One last ride on the Lambretta," Elizabeth sighed wistfully.
"You love that bike, don't you?" he grinned.
She got an eager, revved up, excited look in her eyes as she answered, "I love the speed, the adventure, the power, the danger of it."
She spoke of it as if it were the ultimate aphrodisiac, and his grin widened. A woman who got turned on by high-speed motors and sword fights. A woman after his own heart. "It gets your heart pumping and your blood flowing, your body surging with adrenaline, buzzing with an absolute rush of sensation."
"Yes," she breathed, thrilled that he grasped it perfectly.
"That's not a bad feeling to chase. But," Will replied provocatively, "the Lambretta isn't the only thing that can give you that. Not the only thing and certainly not the best thing. Not by a long shot."
He lifted their still joined fingers to his mouth, placing a soft kiss to the back of her hand, and her stomach did a little flip. Then he moved his lips over her skin, brushing a kiss across each knuckle. The heat of his breath and the softness of his mouth against her hand were surprisingly erotic, making her feel warm and shivery inside. And when the tip of his tongue touched the V of her fingers, sliding into the crevice between, Elizabeth felt a hot slid of need that had her other hand clenching into the fabric of her skirt.
Will's heated breath puffed out across her fingers as he lowered her hand from his mouth back to her lap. He wanted to touch her, taste her, become a part of her, and he could see that she wanted it too. His eyes swept over her face, coming to rest on her mouth.
Skimming his thumb over her lower lip, he whispered, "You said it was complicated. Maybe it doesn't have to be."
Elizabeth looked into his dark eyes, eyes that promised heaven – and she wanted ever bit of it. "No," she agreed. "It doesn't have to be."
His hand slid to the back of her neck, ready to kiss her then and there, in front of whoever might be watching, though they had long since stopped noticing anyone else in the room beyond themselves. But as he cupped her neck, he noticed the tightness of the muscles, the stiff tautness all across her shoulder.
"You're so tense," he breathed, his lips still close to hers. "Because of me?" he asked, pulling back, wondering if he was rushing her.
"No. You're the only one who doesn't make me tense…..Well, in a bad way," she corrected. Will smiled at that, and she continued, "It's just my father and….everything, all coming down on me at once. It's nothing."
"Turn around," he instructed.
"What? Why?"
"Swivel around on the stool," he said, reaching down next to her thigh and turning it for her. "Let me give you a message," he coaxed. "I'm told I'm very good at it."
"I'll bet," she shot back, but obediently offered her back to him.
Will reached up and placed his hands beneath Elizabeth's hair, kneading the back of her neck and across her shoulders, feeling the tension loose and the muscles ease and soften beneath his touch. Very quickly the smooth strokes of his hands lost all pretense of a therapeutic message and became something else altogether. He drew her hair back behind her shoulders, baring her silken skin, his index finger caressing the hollow of her throat, then along her collarbone. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and let herself fall into the haze of sensual desire he created. He moved both hands along the sides of her neck, his forefingers tracing her jaw as his thumbs teased the sensitive curve where her neck and shoulders met. He made her body sing whenever he touched her this way. She wished he would go on touching her forever. When his fingers moved up to play beneath her ear, she turned her cheek into his hand, nuzzling her face into his palm. Her hand came up over his, twining their fingers together, and she tipped back ever so slightly into him…
They were so lost in each other, neither one noticed a lone figure enter the club and begin descending the stairs behind them, witnessing the unfolding scene.
Weatherby Swann's plane had come in early, so it wasn't much of a surprise that his daughter wasn't waiting for him as planned. However, when he arrived at the Black Pearl, the resort where she'd been making her home for the past weeks, he was more than a bit perplexed and disappointed that the young woman was in fact nowhere to be found – although Gillette did not seem too astonished by her disappearance. He merely asked where William Turner was and, finding out he was last seen going into the Empress, informed the king that the princess would be there too. Gillette had wanted to come along as well but, after a quick sweep of the still closed club, ultimately his guards had to settle for waiting at the door, as Weatherby wanted to have this reunion with his only daughter away from others' prying eyes.
But when he made it into the club, peering over the balcony, the sight that met his eyes was startling to say the least. A man, one he could only assume to be this William she gushed over, was touching his daughter in a fashion that spoke of much more than mere friendship. One of his hands was cradling Elizabeth's cheek and the other was beneath the collar of her blouse. What's more, she appeared to be wholly complacent with it, her own hand resting on his at her cheek and her body leaned back into his.
He had heard the rumors, ones pegging this man as his daughter's lover, but he had dismissed them. Even after hearing the emotion in her voice as she spoke of him, Weatherby had hoped it was just friendship alone that had warmed her tone. But this was worse, far more dangerous, than anything he'd feared. It was abundantly clear there was something between his daughter and this Turner boy, but it couldn't be. Whatever it was – love or lust – it must be squelched immediately. He knew she had fanciful dreams, and if it were up to his parent's heart he would make them all come true for her. But it had always been her fate and destiny to be more than ordinary and as such she must accept that some dreams had to be sacrificed for the betterment of oneself and one's country.
He was now at their side, mere feet away from them, though neither Turner nor his daughter noticed him. "Elizabeth," he called.
Her eyes flew open with a gasp, and they immediately jumped apart.
"Father," she said, sliding down from the stool on shaky legs. "Father, you're early. I wasn't expecting you for another hour."
"Yes. I can see that."
"I would've met the plane – I mean, I was planning to," she rushed on. "But I didn't know you were early, you see….I was just leaving now."
Weatherby said nothing in reply to her awkward rambling, instead asking, "Am I to assume this is Mister Turner?"
Will slanted Elizabeth a look and she met his eye. Attraction laced with guilt at being caught bounced between them, but not regret.
"Yes, Father. This is William Turner, the man who rescued me."
The overwhelming affection in her tone had Weatherby glancing at his daughter a moment before turning his attention back to William.
"I don't know about that, sir," Will answered her claim. "I just helped her in whatever way I could."
"No, you did. You did rescue me, Will," Elizabeth insisted.
"Well then, young man," Weatherby said, extending his hand, "I suppose thanks are in order."
"Not at all, sir," Will replied, shaking his hand. Looking to Elizabeth, he added, "I guess I should be going, and let the two of you get reacquainted."
Weatherby would have liked further words with Turner, but the fact that, even after weeks away from him and a near death experience, his daughter could barely spare a look toward him when William was in the room made him anxious to have the young man leave. It was a feeling he wasn't used to, even in the presence of the man that was soon to be her husband.
"Goodbye, sir," Will said, bowing slightly. "It was very nice to meet you."
With a darting glance to Elizabeth, he turned towards the stairs, but she called out, stopping him.
"Elizabeth," Weatherby interrupted, "surely Mister Turner wouldn't mind a bit of time for us alone. I'm certain he has someplace else to be, and you wouldn't wish to detain him."
"I'll only be a minute, Father."
She took Will off to the side, her hand on his bicep. Will looked over to her father and, as he suspected, found him watching them closely.
"What is it?" he asked her. "I've never been introduced to a king before. Did I do something wrong?"
"No," she smiled. "You were prefect. Don't let him fluster you. He's just another man."
"Oh yes. Exactly like Jack."
Elizabeth laughed. Her fingers infinitesimally stroked his arm as she removed her hand. "I'll still see you at the gala?" she asked, wanting to let him know that nothing had changed, her father's abrupt appearance hadn't altered her desire for one last night of reckless freedom.
"I'll be there," Will promised.
"Until tonight, then," she whispered.
Elizabeth watched Will go, her teeth worrying her lower lip with each step he took. It was then that she was hit with the full breath of understanding of just how difficult it would be in the coming days. Here in the Empress were two facets of her life – the old and the new – and as she watched Will go, leaving her there with her father, she knew that her heart and soul went up those stairs and left with him. And that's how it would always be. As much as she loved her father, every last part of her longed to go with Will.
Weatherby approached his daughter and, with the closing of the outside door, she turned to him, accepting his tender greeting and hug. He knew he would have to tread carefully were Turner was concerned. It was clear she had feelings for him and, when forbidden in a course of action, she could be downright willful and stubborn. Still, he had to let the point be made and, as soon as the initial pleasantries were finished, he did.
"I realize you're fond of Mister Turner," he began.
"Yes, I am," Elizabeth responded warily, not at all caring for the direction of this conversation. "If it wasn't for Will, I don't know what would have happened to me."
"Be that as it may, you must be careful. We are doing all this for appearances. It won't do if it looks to everyone like you're running off on your fiancé with – "
"Don't finish that sentence," Elizabeth stopped him, venom in her tone.
Weatherby sighed. "You have to remember your responsibilities, Elizabeth. To James, to me, to your country."
"I know, I know. I do. Really," Elizabeth assured him, and she meant it.
But she still had her one night – and nothing and no one was going to take that away from her.