For the next couple of hours, Emma nodded and smiled and made small talk with countless courtiers and royals. They had been told the princess had been kidnapped and rescued in a daring effort by secret forces. Thankfully, they did not prod her for details - though she was sure they gossiped freely behind her back. Sometimes feigning feminine delicacy had its advantages.
Every now and then she glanced at the large clock on the southern wall. The ornate minute hand seemed to dither in its movements: time seemed to move at a glacial pace. Her feet itched to skip across the floor and dash into the corridor that sunk deeper into the castle; where he would be waiting. Yet she knew she must wait.
Killian had disappeared soon after their dance. She had expected as much. The past week he seemed to have been avoiding her - taking his meals with the servants and roaming the forest during daylight hours. Since their confrontation with Blackbeard he seemed to have changed so much from the man she had first met. Gone was the sure headed, confident captain, with the arrogant swagger and sure-footed charm, and in his place a much more cautious man who said little and gave away even less in his actions.
It was frustrating.
Emma could not deny, however, her own inner turmoil. Barely a moment had passed where she could sit and reflect on her journey these past months. Certainly, there was no chance to talk to anyone or discuss the details of her missing months. Instead these memories and thoughts brewed inside her, fermenting with the passage of time and forming confused and twisted emotions that played with her heart.
It had little bothered her in the past, her lack of peers and friends to talk and spend time with. Instead she had been occupied happily in her books, learning and riding. But for the past week the internal dialogue of her transformation had tormented her and how she longed for a friendly ear to ease the burden. There was no suitable person to whom she could share her thoughts and feelings with.
Instead she had turned to Honey, her beautiful mare who became so excited when she saw her mistress arrive after so long that she almost kicked her stall door from its hinges. Taking her out for long, leisurely rides was the perfect antidote to the unfamiliar sensation of being cooped up in the castle for hours at end. Together they had explored the plains and villages surrounding them, discovering long forgotten lakes and glens or just ambling in the warm sunlight until evening called her home. In her horse's ear, she whispered her troubles - her stories and secrets fully disclosed to one who would never be able to betray them, just nuzzle into her neck and provide warm comfort when tears threatened.
Now and then, they had crossed paths with Killian. He always seemed surprised and remained quite proper, even far from the sight of prying eyes. When he would dash away, she would dig her hands into Honey's mane - and blurt out her frustrations, asking her friend why she cared so much. Not needing a response.
Because deep down, she knew.
§
Finally it was past eleven.
Her father had retired, the guests were merry on wine and fruit punch.
It was time to slip away.
She darted towards the silk panel-lined walls as the dancing became more jolly, the fiddle playing less polished. Slipping though the fabric panels, she quickly reached a small servants door that led to a service corridor, dashing into the darkness before she could be seen.
The eastern stairwell was only a few minutes away in a disused part of the castle. Her footsteps and beating heart were the only sounds as she moved away from the ballroom - the music from the dancing fading quickly away into nothingness.
Rushing around the final corner, she paused, looked and sighed deeply.
He wasn't there.
§
"What are you doing?"
She was barely in the room but the words came bursting forth from her lips.
Killian was standing at the foot of bed, his coat and vest were tossed upon the neatly folded blanket and his back was to her. He paused his movements when she spoke, slowly turning as she closed the door.
"Emma-"
"You didn't come. You gave me your word."
His eyes fell to the smooth, stone floor. She watched as he unbuttoned his white shirt, slightly mesmerized by his skill with only one hand.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, barely audibly even in the deafening quiet in this part of the castle.
The shirt was quickly removed and tossed aside. She bit her lip at the sight of his bare chest: the scars on his shoulders had faded substantially.
"You are healing well?"It was part statement and part question: her earlier rebuke still hanging in the air.
He smiled briefly, "Aye. Your doctor is skilled indeed."
"The best in four realms," she sighed, stepping further into the room.
A strained moment passed as Killian pulled on the black linen shirt he had arrived in. Emma's eyes darted around his small quarters, trying to afford him some privacy, but failing to stop her small glances his way.
"Were your new garments uncomfortable?" she asked, suddenly a little nervous and desperately trying to think of the right thing to say.
He began to push the shirt into the waistband of his trousers, "No your highness, they were fine and-"
"Emma," she reminded him. He glanced at her, his face blank, his lips pulled in a straight line, and nodded.
"Emma," he echoed.
She watched, a little awkwardly as he ran his fingers through his hair and slowly folded the discarded shirt before finally turning to face her.
"I'm sorry-"
"You already said that."
Another step closer and he was almost within reach. He flinched, sucking in a breath and leaning back a little. "Killian, what has changed? Why do you pull away from me so?"
The pain in her words caused her voice to crack, becoming more graveled as she spoke, his face responding with a pained expression that caught her breath.
"Nothing has changed, but things have become clear to me."
"What things?" she asked.
His hand slipped to the back of his neck, squeezing it a few times as he moistened his lips and closed the gap between them. Reaching out, he placed his palm on her silk-covered shoulder. It was warm and she instinctively dipped her head so her cheek lay against it.
"Emma - the way I feel for you…" he trailed off and seemed to pause and gather his thoughts, "I never believed in such things. I thought stories of yearning and want for another were mere fairy tales - falsehoods. Until I met you."
With a small gasp, she felt a dart of pleasure ripple through her body.
She meant something to him. She wanted to smile, tilt her head and kiss his palm - but he stilled her with his next words.
"But what one wants, or even needs, cannot always be. A bird and a fish may fall in love, your highness, but where would they live?"
He loves me? She thought, her head spinning, dizziness growing, the words racing around her mind, his touch becoming unbearably hot-
"I'd make them a nest and float it upon the seas,"she muttered into his hand.
"You see the world too simply, love,"he sighed, pulling away from her and reaching for his leather belt, slowly threading it through the loops in his trousers.
Anger brewed. He seemed so empty now, so shallow and without substance. What made him 'him'was missing and resentment began to surge forth. "And that is it? That is all the explanation I am to expect?"
Emma's heart began to pound. Was he ignoring her?
His nimble fingers tied the belt in as good a time as any man. She waited, chest burning, for him to respond. But he wouldn't look at her again. Maybe he was afraid?
"I'd sell my soul to make things different between the two of us, for all that blackened instrument is worth."
"You have a low opinion of yourself,"Emma whispered, wandering over to the bed and sitting down, feeling slightly drunk, though she had only had one glass of wine.
"A deserved one. I will not sully your reputation, princess."
Who was this man, she thought, burying her fingers in the soft silk of her skirt and listening as he shuffled around the room behind her. He was so at odds with the man she had come to know and respect and…love-
"Where did Captain Hook go? Killian Jones? I do not recognize the man before me. He is a stranger with whom I am unacquainted."Her words were soft, but with a desperate edge. She turned to face him, but her eyes fixed on his discarded clothing, focusing on the small buttons and fine stitches - each detail seeming to mock her sorrow as her heart began to silently crack.
"He's here - I'm still the pirate - the villain. You forget that. You see me as-"He met her eyes as he paused, staring deep into the bottomless blue - looking for some kind of answer that would calm her swelling emotions.
"And so you just run,"she retorted tartly, her words icy and clipped.
"And you expected different?"he replied, with unexpected harshness, his hand gripping the raised wooden foot of the bed, glaring at her hotly as she left her examinations of his clothing. "Why do you even care, Princess?"
The moniker he chose once again, shot deep into her, shattering all previous intimacy she kept inside. He was pushing her away, forcing her back and closing his mind and heart.
"You stubborn ass!"she cried, standing and marching to where he stood, "Back and forth we go. You make love to me! Make me feel what no one ever has before! You open your heart and then nothing? I can't let this go-"
"You must,"he whispered, letting her touch his linen covered arm but flinching a little all the same.
"Killian."
His eyes slipped closed when she spoke his name.
"You are a good man."
"I am nothing but a harbinger of death and despair."
Killian turned his shoulder back towards the window, but Emma caught his handless arm and he stopped.
"No you are not. For all your reputation, I see no evil in you - not a man who is unwilling to show mercy or sense. You are more than a label, Killian, more than a whispered tale. I've seen that."
His muscles slackened a little in her touch. He didn't speak, instead he was looking at her hands on his arms. So she continued.
"I've been running away for so long. I thought being a queen was all sacrifice and living up to something unattainable. But that's all false. I thought my parents had this fairytale romance to which I could never aspire - yet here I see them struggling with problems I can't even conceive to comprehend. I thought being royal meant following a set of rules to which I had no control - but you know what, Killian? Do you know what I learned?"
Killian looked up.
"I made it all up in my head. I'd talked myself into this corner where I saw no escape. But now I understand my position is a privilege, and perfection? It's a lie - a myth. I'm as human as anyone else and I-"
He cut her off with a kiss. His hand grabbed her chin, his lips were cool, yet burning with desire.
Her anger began to melt.
"Stop-"she muttered against his mouth, pressing her palms onto his shoulders and gasping as he pulled her hips close. "What-"
"I love you, Emma. I've buried the words and thoughts for weeks now. I know not when it started - I see no end. Never have I felt like this."
"You do?"she cried, her heart swelling, her hands grasping his face.
"Of course,"he whispered into her neck.
§
The words had spilled forth. Every feeling he had restrained was unleashed. She wouldn't give up on him. She had pushed and pulled and prodded – Gods, she was stubborn.
She was everything he needed. He couldn't deny it.
"I've loved you for longer than I have even known,"he admitted.
Emma was frozen, almost lost in the moment. His arms around her waist pulled her tight.
His resistance was futile, useless…
"And I too,"she replied breathlessly.
His heart sunk, slipping through his body, melting almost, as she held him tighter.
"But we have no future-"he began.
As an outlaw, a criminal, how could he ever be seen to love one such as her? Such a precious gem in the royal crown?
"Trust me,"she urged, studying his eyes, her own glassy and wide.
And he did.
That dam of emotion he had built to protect himself, collapsed as she kissed him again. Everything became a blur.
Clothing was removed quickly. He groaned when his hand grasped her waist. The silk added an extra layer of sensation - one that demanded time and worship. But she tugged and pulled at his clothing, urging him towards the bed until she was left just in her silk chemise and him in his leather trousers.
"Are you sure?"he panted against her ear.
Resisting her was pointless, he knew that now. He was either hers or nothing.
"Of nothing have I ever been more so,"she promised, "Everything is clear now. I was meant to meet you Killian. It was fate."
§
All her hidden feelings spilled forth. His closeness was overwhelming. She knew now, how she felt, what she needed -
Her time away from the kingdom had developed within her a hardy soul - one that could weather any storm. And more importantly, one that knew itself.
"I love you,"she whispered again. "I love you, I-"
A kiss befell her lips. His hand gathered up the silk of her chemise and slipped it over her head. She was naked now, but never had she felt more complete.
His hand was on her, her fingers untied his trousers and pushed them down - their kiss not breaking - as mutual hands did their job.
"Do you want me Killian? Do you really love me?"
"Yes!"he groaned against her neck, "Yes, a thousand times, yes-"
Emma fell back on the bed, baring her body to him - for the first time without the haze of alcohol. His eyes freely studied her, his mouth dropping open and her cheeks reddening in a heady blush.
A hand ran up her thigh and she shivered.
"I need you,"she said in a whispy breath, arching her hips up and wrapping her legs around his knees until her tumbled on top of her.
"Emma-"
"Take me Killian - please - show me some feeling, some hope, some-"
He entered her without ceremony or preparation, though thank God she was slick enough in anticipation.
His hot skin met hers in a beautiful symphony of sensation.
"Oh Emma,"he began, his voice breaking as he nuzzled into her neck.
"Love me,"she urged, letting her mind become blank.
It had never felt this way.
Stolen moments with a stable boy or a guardsman had initiated her into this world of bodies and love, but Killian Jones had shown her its mastership.
His hand cradled her face. His lips nipped at her shoulder. His hips rocked - measured but delicate in their movements - teetering her on the edge of oblivion.
"Emma-"he moaned. "God take me-"
And she felt it in his voice. All he had concealed and hidden, all his love and desire.
"Let go,"she urged as their bodies melded together.
Oh gods, how was she so close, so quickly?
He faltered. She took her chance, rolling him over and pressing his body against the mattress, running her hands up his arms so he was pinned beneath her.
She ground into his hips -his hardness greeting her body in ways she had never imagined. He felt so deep and full and perfect she knew not how to react. Emma bit her lip, balled her fists on his chest, felt his hand and hook still her waist-
His breathing was thick and rapid and shaking. "Emma, my love, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"
She muttered her words like an oath, "I love you, so much, I love you, I love you-"
Shuddering against her. His hands tightened.
Looking in her eyes, his release seemed to spark. His hips flinched.
The look he gave, banished her last restraint. She rippled around him as he released himself inside her body without hesitation.
Everything spun. The air was cold, then hot, then cold again.
Then all was still.
Falling to their sides, they lay cradling each other, staring deep in each other's eyes as slow seconds passed.
"I love you," he whispered, as her eyelids fluttered closed and the world seemed to stop. Just for a moment.
And all there was was he and she.
A/N Almost the end. Thank you so much for reading, reviewing and following xxx
