Part XXIX

"Sally Simpkins sends her regards," Will jokes the following afternoon, tossing me the small package of apple pasties. "What excuse did you use to fob off Celeste this time?"

"I said I wished to contemplate my role in the upcoming ball by strolling through the woods alone," I say. "I stressed the 'alone' bit when she insisted on coming with and—lo!--I am alone."

"Alone with me," Will says, following as I begin toward our usual path through the woods.

"Even better."

"Is there any particular reason you wish to see me today, Elizabeth?" Will asks, holding back a low hanging branch.

"The weather is fine, we are young. . .Why do I need a particular reason, Will?"

"Because it feels very much like we are sneaking about."

"We are sneaking about, silly," I say, hoping a smile will dissipate his fears. "But not in any sort of scandalous way if you're worried about my reputation or yours. We're just. . .friends. . .out for a pleasant afternoon stroll."

"Through the woods alone."

"And what of it?" I challenge. "If you are going to be Mr. Crabby Garters, Will, you might as well leave me in peace. I do not wish to be harped at today."

"You can't always get your way, Elizabeth."

"You can't always be the moral compass you so desperately try to be, Will."

He stops. "What do you mean by that?"

I stop as well, turning to face him, hand on hip. "Oh, come off it, Will. You're a boy--like every other boy in Port Royale. You try desperately to be so loyal and noble and good but you never give yourself a chance to let go. Let go and say what's really on your mind for once." I take a step forward till we are toe-to-toe. "What do you want, Will? Really and truly, what do you want?"

"You," he says without a hint of hesitation. "I want you."

He reaches a hand toward my face, fingers soft, breath warm, and --

"Elizabeth?"

I blink, hard, the daydream scattering. "Will."

"What were you thinking on?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say, standing from the back steps and attempting a smile which falls horribly flat. "Have you brought the apple pasties?"

He tosses the little package at me. "Sally Simpkins sends her regards."

"Wh. . .What did you say?"

"It was nothing," Will says. "A joke. I didn't really buy them from Sally Simpkins. Her father was the only one at the cart."

"I'm not angry," I say, beginning toward our favorite path through the woods. "It just seems a silly thing to say after our discussion yesterday."

"It was meant to be silly, Elizabeth," Will says, holding a low hanging branch back. "That's why it's called a joke."

"Very funny," I say, biting into one of the pasties before passing him the other. "That horrid ball is fast approaching and I can't even claim a headache to avoid it."

"From what I hear about town, it is in your honor so you must attend."

"I know, but that doesn't mean I particularly relish the task."

"Make an appearance, plead the headache, leave early," Will rationalizes as if he escapes from balls nightly. "No one's going to call you out in the middle of the Officers' Barracks. Especially not in front of so many people."

"A smart plan," I agree. "Do you think it will work?"

"Only one way to know for sure," he says, licking the last bits of sugar and apple filling from his finger tips. Oh! If only he would do so to my fingers! "Elizabeth? Elizabeth, is anything the matter?"

I shake my head, the far, far too vivid images of Will's mouth and my fingers dissipating. "No. Nothing is the matter. I am fine, Will. Thank you for asking."

"Do you have a destination in mind or are we just walking?" he asks.

"Just walking," I say. "Any time in your company is time well spent, I believe."

Now it is Will's turn to look a bit disorientated. "Thank you."

"You are quite welcome."

"Have you thought about what you shall say if Norrington takes the opportunity to propose at the Ball?" he asks.

"Oh goodness, he has done so already!"

"He. . .He has?"

"Well, not presented me with a ring, but he has implied that he wishes to. I have been as firm in my refusal as possible, but nothing seems to deter the man."

"Perhaps he is the sort who enjoys the chase and you are the prize," Will says.

"I don't like the thought of being anyone's prize to be won," I say. "It's so old fashioned. Practically barbaric."

"Do you believe you shall ever allow yourself to be caught?"

"Not by Norrington."

"By. . .anyone. . .ever?" Will asks.

I laugh, stopping in the path in order to turn and face him. "How silly you can be at times, Will. Naturally, I suppose I will marry one day. It is what is expected of me and a duty I will follow in time. Till then, I shall enjoy being young and hope to fob off any suitors who wish to call."

"Any. . .suitor?"

I laugh again. "Goodness, who could possibly call that I would not reject?"

"No one, I suppose," Will mutters. He brushes a lock of loose hair away from his face. "Shall we return, Elizabeth?"

"If you wish it," I reply.

He considers the choice before nodding. "I do not know when I will be free again. I am sorry."

"Perhaps I can come around if ever you take a walk near the docks to cool off?"

Will shrugs, looking straight ahead at the path instead of at me. "If you wish it, though being seen so publicly may start the gossips' tongues wagging once more."

"It is a chance I will take." I touch his arm briefly, hoping to life him from his sudden melancholy. "You are worth the risk, Will."

Will smiles, slightly cheered. "As are you, Elizabeth. As are you."