chapter 29- A Moment's Peace

Lord Charles Beaufort let his gaze wander over the perfectly shaped body of his lover, his broad shoulders, the strong muscles of his arms and chest. His eyes trailed down over a flat, hard belly and slim hips to his long, athletic legs that were entwined with his own. The stature of a God, the Roman God of Love. His skin was like cream, now glistening with sweat and oil in the flickering candlelight. A face of such exquisite beauty that it almost hurt to look at him. Angelic features, dark eyes rimmed by long, thick lashes, a lush mouth. Lips that held the promise of heaven on earth, the memory of him sucking, swallowing him…

He let out a suppressed moan.

"Mylord, what is worrying you? Did your most mumble servant fail to please you? If so, you ought to punish me." Angelo produced a pair of handcuffs and a whip, both well tended and certainly not designed for use in prison. These items were made for more delicate flagellation; the handle of the whip was wrapped in black velvet which also lined the manacles made of silver. He shot Beaufort a glance that was almost feverish with desire. "Whatever is troubling you, please vent it on me."

He would always willingly fulfill Beaufort's darkest desires, in fact he even yearned for it. There was so much pleasure in pain and he embraced it like a vessel that longed to be filled only to turn it into a mighty weapon later, a fiery sword aimed against all those who were not obedient to his master's commands. Then, he would be the one who distributed pain, finding equal pleasure in it. He was the perfect avenging angel, devoted in bed but cruel and ruthless in the world outside their private chamber.

The request was hard to resist. Beaufort though about it as he let his fingers run through his lover's thick, curly hair. He took a handful of it in a tight grip, thus forcing Angelo to bend his head so that he could ravage his mouth in a devouring kiss. He tasted good, of love and lust, and yet he was not in the mood to play games tonight.

"You don't want me?" Angelo asked disappointed when Beaufort let go of him.

"I will always want you, amoremio. I want give you a hard ride and lose myself in you until I am too spent to think about all the things that bother me, particularly Sparrow's escape from jail. There is still no trace of that damned pirate, as if the earth has swallowed him. And yet I know that he is still in Port Royal."

Angelo propped himself up on one elbow to study Beaufort's face. To him it was beautiful to behold except for the worried lines around his eyes. He wanted to kiss them away; he couldn't stand to see his lover so distressed.

"Do you still suspect the former commodore, Charles?"

It didn't happen often that Angelo called him by his first name, and never in public. But here, in the intimacy of their chamber, candlelight flickering over their naked bodies, the rules of society didn't matter anymore. Here, they could finally be themselves without any restrictions, without having to carefully avoid even the most secret touch, without anyone around to criticize or demonize their love.

Beaufort sighed. "I thought I gave Lord Ridgeway explicit instructions on how to deal with Norrington but apparently he managed to slip the charges of the Admiralty; he is not suspended from duty. Instead he is on honeymoon, showing off with his adulterous former countess. Unfortunately he is still well liked among Port Royal's naval officers as that farce of a dinner party has proven. I simply can't think of a discreet way to get rid off him, and that is irritating me tremendously."

"Have you have already ruled out the possibility of a tragic accident happening to him?"

"Any constructive idea is welcome, my dearly beloved."

Angelo smirked smugly. "I will withdraw my men from his house later. Let him think himself safe and free. Then we'll lure him into a trap, and the bait is his dear friend Groves."

"Splendid! Ah, sei il mio angelo." Beaufort said proudly as he bent his head to kiss him hard. His hands trailed along his lover's body, enjoying the touch of warm skin over solid muscles. He would never cease to pine for him. "Groves and his pathetic pangs of conscience are truly bothersome, I certainly won't lament being rid off him. I will promptly issue an arrest warrant… Oh!" He gasped surprised when suddenly he felt a hand between his legs, rubbing and squeezing, making him forget about warrants. All he could think of was the passion burning hot in his veins.

"Not now," Angelo purred seductively, "it's been so long since we could last spend a whole night together so tonight is for amore. Please… I want you so much."

Beaufort didn't have to be told twice but took advantage of his pleading lover. He groaned out loud with pure desire.

It had been love at first sight, that day in Venice when he had met with the d'Abruzzo family and their comely son. One look into his dark, innocent Italian eyes and he was lost. It was still a mystery to him that this exceptional beauty with angelic features had immediately felt the same for him. No forceful seduction had been needed- instead, the thirteen year old and not quite so innocent lad had snuck into his bed the same night… and had never failed him ever since.

Later, they were lying spent and exhausted in each other's arms, the sheets soaked with sweat and lust. Angelo cuddled up closer to his beloved, kissing his smiling face. It was so good to see him smile. He knew, he should have told him about the missing love letters but he didn't want to spoil this wonderful night.

-

Dark. It was dark. Jack sat up, panting, only to realize that he wasn't back in that hole of a cell. It had merely been a dream. He let out a relieved sigh. The bed was warm and cosy, and Bill was snoring. Nevertheless, he couldn't fall asleep again. The air was stuffy, the walls too close, closing him in, suffocating him.

Jack rose from the bed; it was a painful procedure. His shoulders were stiff again but on one point Bill had been right. It did get better when he was moving.

He shuffled to the window, opened it, and took a deep breath. The air was fresh and cool. It was quiet outside, as if the world was awaiting the birth of a new day in silent awe. The sky was still dark but the stars had already gone pale; it wouldn't take long for the sun to rise. In the darkness shadows formed indistinct silhouettes that slowly gained shape with the first dim light. First, everything just looked grey. The trees in the garden, the sea, the range of hills on the other side of the bay. The Hellshire Hills, Jack remembered. He had stood there, on a distant cliff, watching how hell had broken lose over Port Royal on the day of the earthquake…

Then, as the light increased and the sun proceeded to leave its nightly hiding place in the far north to show up on the eastern horizon, the colors seemed to be rushing back to the world, painting the trees green, the garden wall white, the sea blue.

At sea, this hours of day was usually quiet (well, except for the sounds of a ship under sails, of course- the creaking of planks, the clattering of the rigging and the rustling of wind-filled canvas.) The air smelled salty, and the horizon looked overwhelmingly magnificent in its majestic glory.

Sunrise at shore was different since Jack's view was restricted by walls, and it was accompanied by much more noise; like the orchestra of birds that suddenly started chirping and singing. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked.

The air smelled different too. Though there was a faint whiff of salt it was mingled with the scent of flowers and damp soil.

And yet he embraced it all with the knowledge that he wasn't chained to the wall in a poor excuse of a prison cell anymore, that he was free although the walls around him were wearing him down. After all, all it took was to leave this room, to walk out of it.

Jack glanced at Bill, still peacefully snoring, and mulled over whether to wake him because he was hungry again- damned, never before in his life he had been so desperately starving for food, drink, affection… Get a grip on yerself now, Jack! Go to the kitchen if ye're hungry- no need to wake Bill when there will probably be some lovely maids scurrying around, eager to fulfill yer wishes, easy to flatter…

Unfortunately there was no maid around.

"Wake up ye lazy sot!" Jack put down the tray with shaking hands and nudged his friend's shoulder not too gently.

Bill opened his eyes, shut them in disbelief, and risked another glance. There really was a tray in front of him and it was loaded with food. A lot of food. He arched a quizzical brow at Jack. "Ye made breakfast for us?"

"No. I was hungry and since ye were so lovely snoring I had to get myself something to eat all on my onesies but being the truly generous and big-hearted man that I am, I'm willing to share my booty with ye. Tea?"

"Yes, please," Bill answered flabbergasted. Jack had boiled tea

"Help yerself." Jack pointed at the pot with a chicken leg he was gnawing at but made no attempt to fill their mugs in fear he could spill the tea, and he certainly didn't want his shaking hands to give away how faint he was after merely plundering the kitchen. He had almost thought he wouldn't make it up the staircase again.

Bill noticed it anyway but didn't comment on it. There was no need to remind Jack of his weakness and discourage him when in fact his condition was improving. He had to get up and start walking around, and he probably knew his own limits. Or maybe not, as the fully loaded tray proved. "Ye didn't really intend to eat all that on yer own, did ye?"

Jack shot him an uncomprehendingly glance that seemed to say, 'why not?' but then again modesty had never been his strength. He put down the tidily stripped clean chicken bone, slurped some tea, and continued with bread, honey, and cheese. Not to forget the slices of cold roast, the fruits, another chicken leg…

Bill rolled his eyes. If Jack carried on with randomly stuffing food in his mouth he would sooner or later feel sick but he didn't have the heart to stop him.

"Slowly, I won't take anything from ye," he said gently and to his surprise Jack did actually listen to him. Or perhaps he remembered that it was below his dignity to gobble down all the food like a desperately starved man when he had generously offered to share it.

"I'm surprised ye boiled tea," Bill said after a while.

"'Course I would've preferred a good bottle o' rum but I wasn't in the mood to argue with ye." Jack let out a satisfied belch, then stretched himself out of the bed and pulled the blanket over his shoulders, flashing Bill a sleepy smile. "Gonna take a li'le nap now…"

"Ye're alright, mate?"

"Mh-hm." It was only half the truth but he didn't want to admit that he wasn't even in the mood to drink any rum. At the moment it merely required a pitcher of beer to get him slightly drunk and he didn't want to get drunk; he felt vulnerable enough while sober.

"I assume I can leave ye alone for a while and have a chat with our hosts then?"

"Mhmpf."

Bill interpreted that as yes so he felt free to leave the room. He had to hear from Norrington how things were in Port Royal after yesterday's house search since he doubted that Beaufort had already given up looking for Jack.

Suddenly, he had almost reached the staircase, a shrieking yell from the kitchen startled him through he possibly wasn't as startled as the screaming maid. What had happened? Were Beaufort and his men back, threatening the poor girl? No, he decided, apparently not. He heard the voices of the Norringtons, soothing her, while she kept on babbling about an intruder who had devastated the kitchen and was probably still lurking somewhere.

Bill walked down the stairs and got a notion of what the maid was about for the kitchen looked a total mess. All the cupboard doors stood open as if someone had rummaged through them, a jar of flour was lying broken on the floor, white dust everywhere, and the kettle on the oven was rattling- empty, overheated and forgotten. However, no hostile attack had taken place here but merely…

"Oh bugger, Jack made breakfast."

Catherine, James and the maid stared at him, a priceless expression on their faces. Then Catherine laughed out loud.

"No surprise the kitchen looks a mess, but I'm honestly glad to hear he is feeling better. Why did he not come down with you? I'm sure sitting in the garden would do him good."

"Well, causing that," Bill pointed at the chaos, hiding an amused smile, "must have exhausted him. He's taking a little nap so that he'll soon be ready for mischief again." He thought about Catherine's last words. It would certainly do Jack good to sit in the garden, at least he'd feel less imprisoned there, but he wondered whether that was a wise idea. Bill glanced at James. "Is the garden really a safe place considering that Beaufort's men are searching Port Royal for Jack?"

"Mr Bennet assured me that it is. Apparently the path leading from the graveyard isn't known to Beaufort's men so none of them will appear anywhere near the back of the house."

"Aye," Bennet, who just came entering the kitchen from the garden, agreed. "Actually, the far end of the graveyard is said to be haunted since some graves were swallowed by the sea in the tidal wave following the earthquake. The souls of the dead are spooking there… Oh," he looked at Catherine, "I beg your pardon, Milady. It was not my intention to scare you."

James and Bill exchanged glances, doubting that Catherine was so easy to frighten. Even when facing the horrors of Kalpitiya she hadn't panicked but remained calm and controlled.

"It's funny that people in a modern English town believe in ghost stories," she said.

"Well, this town has seen the attack of undead pirates so yes, the people here do believe in ghost stories. Anyway, it's serving our purpose. Beaufort's men are merely observing the front door."

"Are these men naval officers?" James asked.

Bennet shook his head. "No. You were right to assume that Beaufort cannot justify his suspicion against you so an official observation would most likely appear to be arbitrary. Those watching the house are Angelo's men, bloody villains."

"I suspected as much." James turned to address Bill but noticed that the pirate must have left the kitchen and walked into the garden. He followed him and saw him standing lost in thoughts near the rose bed. "Are you admiring the roses or are you the one scared of ghost stories?"

"I was part of a ghost story once." Bill replied with a sigh, still shuddering inwardly. An ice cold shiver had ran down his spine when the memory of Barbossa and the course had suddenly been brought back to his mind (though he had never really forgotten it either) He had had to get out of the kitchen, into the bright sunlight, to fight off the stale aftertaste of eternally reoccurring nightmares. Of drowning… It was always better when he could feel the sun on his face as if the light and the warmth kept the notion of the effect of the curse at bay.

"So it seems we all have our own demons to bear." James said a bit stiffly since he didn't know what else to say.

"I always recommend meditation."

-

David Bennet was on watch that night, guarding the house and its inhabitants like he and some of the other servants had done every night since they started harboring two pirates in a secret room. He did believe that the ghost stories about the graveyard would scare off any intruder from trying to enter through the garden but on the other hand Beaufort was an incalculable risk, an unscrupulous man. It was always better to be safe than sorry.

The house was dark now, all lights had gone out. If there was still a candle burning in the secret room he couldn't tell from his position. Perhaps you could see that from the other side of the bay if you had a good telescope but Bennet doubted it.

It was a beautiful Caribbean night; the air was filled with the scent of flowers and a gentle wind was blowing. Above him myriads of stars were sparkling from a velvet black sky. He took a deep breath when all of a sudden a shiver ran down his spine. Bennet looked around, wondering whether he himself had now become a victim of ghost stories. However, there had been a noise startling him. It was a faint, creaking sound… as if someone had opened the door in the garden wall. He scurried there to aim his musket at the intruder when he heard a pistol being cocked from somewhere slightly behind him.

"D'ye think it's wise, boy, to shoot the one who might be carrying the letters Norrington is so keen on?"

Bennet lowered his musket in recognition. "Oh, Miss… um, Captain Scarlett! It's you…"

"Aye." Rowan lowered her own weapon, still being cautious though. She had never trusted any naval officers or other officials, and the fact that Bennet and Norrington were discreetly working for a secret agency was definitely not going to change her attitude. "What about Jack?"

"He's safe and sound. Do you have the letters?"

"I want to see Jack first."

"Of course." Bennet led her through the garden when he noticed how tired she looked. No wonder given that she had spent days on horseback. There was no need to push the delivery of the letters, he decided since he wouldn't wake up his lord- and ladyship now anyway. Milady needed her well-deserved rest and so did Rowan Scarlett.

"Is he alright?" She asked, fear and worries softening the rough edges of her voice.

"Yes, thanks to Bootstrap Bill he is recovering quite well." Bennet flashed her a wry smile, remembering the devastated kitchen. "By the way, they were dining with the Norringtons in the garden this evening, and later they were sitting under the old mango tree for a while, smoking cigars. You only missed them by an hour or two. Now they're in the secret room, probably asleep. But I'm sure Jack Sparrow will be very pleased to see you nonetheless."

Rowan thanked him when he left her at the foot of the staircase. With weary legs but full of anticipation she climbed up the stairs, crossed the office and entered the secret room behind the cupboard.

Jack and Bill were lying in bed, sleeping. For a second she hesitated, not knowing whether to wake them or simply snuggle up close to Jack and fall asleep since she didn't only look tired- she was damned tired. She had just decided not to disturb the cozy atmosphere when suddenly Jack sat up with a start, aiming a pistol at her. Then he dropped it again, merely a heartbeat later, as he recognized her.

"Rowan! Luv!" He beamed cheerfully and opened his arms wide in an inviting gesture that she eagerly followed. Stumbling over Bill- who was now fully awake- she flung herself in Jack's arms.

She wanted to hold him, pepper kisses all over him, ask a thousand questions and take a good look at him all at the same time. He really seemed to be alright, fortunately. The thought that there were things that didn't leave visible scars briefly crossed her mind but slipped it again when he kissed her.

"Ah, ye're back." Bill commented dryly, feeling a bit superfluous here. "Mayhap I should find meself another place to sleep then…"

"No, no, I don't have any problem with sharing the bed with two good-looking pirates."

"Well, I have no problem with sharing a bed with a lovely woman either but…"

"Stop that! Immediately!" Jack cut him off as he possessively gathered Rowan in his arms. "Don't abuse my general generosity. There will be no sharing here."

"Shut it, boys. I'm sore and tired, and all I want now is to sleep."

"Aye, luv… whate'er ye want. 'Tis juss so good to 'ave ye back," he breathed in her ear, feeling kind of sleepy too. They all fell silent as they settled down back to sleep. Then, Jack snuggled up closer to Rowan as if he had changed his mind, nuzzling her hair, kissing the soft curve of her neck. Suddenly he stopped, snuffling. He snuffled again, more deeply this time, and as a result he wrinkled his nose. "Ugh! Ye smell of horses…"

"Ta." She elbowed him not all gently. If she hadn't been too tired to argue she would have pointed out the arduous efforts she had taken on his behalf, that she had ridden twice across this goddamned island just to get these bloody letters. She turned her back on him indignantly. "Ye're such an insufferable ass sometimes."

Nevertheless she was glad when he wrapped his arm around her waist, glad to fall asleep in his embrace. After days of worrying about him it was so good to know he was safe and sound and- well, just typically Jack. Even if that meant he was insufferable betimes.

He whispered something in her ear that included horses and an ambiguous offer to which she grumpily replied that she was definitely not in the mood to spread her legs now.

The last thing she heard before falling asleep was Bill's poor attempt to suppress an amused chuckle.

The sun was just beginning to rise when Jack woke up, a warm feeling in his heart. For the first time in longer than he could remember he was utterly happy. It was so good to hold Rowan in his arms again, to watch her while she was sleeping. She looked so peaceful that he didn't want to wake her and yet he couldn't resist to sweep a strand of unruly hair from her face.

She smiled before she sleepily opened her eyes, whispering his name.

He bent over to kiss her softly. "I missed ye."

"Missed ye too."

Bill overheard their quiet exchange and decided that his presence here was certainly neither needed nor desired, so he rose from the bed to give them a moment of privacy.

"If anyone's missing me, I'll be in the garden, doing my weird Asian stuff," he informed them.

"I mightily appreciate yer sense of discretion. Ye're a diamond, mate. Now get lost 'n take care."

"Talking 'bout taking care," Rowan lifted her head to glance over Jack's shoulder at Bill. "Ye're the doc- d'ye think it's wise to leave me alone with that bloody scallywag, knowing what he's up to?"

"Shh! He always loves to show off the doc stuff so don't remind him… although, if I remember correctly, he actually kept on telling me that a little movement would do me good but I never got the meaning until now." Jack said while indicating what sort of movement he had in mind.

"I'm not sure he was thinking about that."

"Well, from the medical point of view there are no objections…"

"Oh, get lost!" Jack snorted, throwing a pillow at his friend to underline his words. He was laughing though, and so was Bill when he left the room. Then he glanced at Rowan. "Now, where did we stop?"

She pulled him closer to kiss him again. It was a sweet kiss full of loving affection that she didn't break for a long time, and yet it seemed to him that she wasn't really in the mood for some wild, passionate tussle between the sheets. Strangely, he didn't mind. At least not that much. Of course he wanted her- he'd always want her- but she was more to him than just a good screw. Their relationship was not based on lust only and he had long given up to marvel about that. It had definitely not been his intention to fall in love with her but he couldn't help loving her; it was like a curse. A wonderful curse.

He propped himself up on one elbow to study her face. She eyed him with languid curiosity, making him want to drown in these magnificent green orbs, the color of a calm bay in sunshine. A smile curled up his lips. He could definitely imagine the scary thought of spending the rest of his life with her for he'd probably never get tired of this beautifully headstrong, vivacious, intelligent, wanton and yet caring woman. She was the port where he could settle down, where he wouldn't have to prove himself or his reputation over and over again. She knew him but had the nerve to love him nonetheless.

"What's up?" Rowan asked smilingly as she reached out to caress his cheek. In the daylight she could clearly see the faded bruised on his face, the rosy welt that ran across his chest- reminders of the suffering he had to endure in prison- and she wished she could make it undone. "Ye're alright, Jack?"

He kissed the frown off her face and cuddled up closer to her. His shoulders were still slightly stiff and aching, especially in the morning so he had to find a more comfortable position. It dawned upon him that she might feel equally sore but for different reasons since riding across the island a couple of times must be quite arduous even for someone who likes to be on top. "I'm fine. How 'bout ye?"

She shrugged, obviously not wanting to talk about herself when Jack was the one who undoubtedly had been worse of recently. "It must have been like hell for ye…"

"Pretty much," he agreed, although he didn't like to be reminded of how horrible it had been to be depraved of freedom, horizons, and the only two souls he cared about- not to mention hunger and thirst. Then he suddenly figured out what she was actually worrying about, indicating without speaking it out. Randy Charly and his wicked ways… "Ah, don't misinterpret my loving restraint and understanding of yer non-existent desire to be seduced with something that never happened since he didn't molest me in any way other than offending me with the inappropriate and actually downright lousy standards of his prison, which for some reason reminds me of breakfast- or not having breakfast."

"Breakfast?" Rowan arched a quizzical brow at him as if she couldn't quite follow what he was about now.

"Well, I'm positive ye must be hungry, luv, so what say ye to plundering Norrington's larder?"

"Now that's a great idea."

Jack gestured Rowan to sit down at the table while he filled the kettle with water, knowing that she loved a good cup of tea in the morning. Actually he didn't mind having one either since he was slowly getting used to it. Was it written in the Code that pirates had to drink rum all the time? And even if it was, he considered them guidelines anyway. Sighing, he shrugged off the thought and started to rummage through the larder, aware of the fact that she was watching him in astonishment. Apparently she hadn't expected him to be such a caring man, one who saw to it that his woman wasn't left hungry… even though it really wasn't a big thing to plunder a larder. After all, he was a pirate and therefore good in plundering, and he had already reconnoitered the whole kitchen yesterday. He knew where the Norringtons were hiding their goodies.

Unfortunately, he was caught in the act today when suddenly a maid entered the kitchen, shrieking hysterically. Jack let out a startled yelp and dropped the plate he was holding in his hands. The very same moment the kettle of water on the oven was boiling over.

The maid clapped her hands in despair and shooed him away, shooting him a grim glance. "Oh no, I won't let you devastate my kitchen again. Don't touch anything and sit down."

As a master of grand gestures, Jack sketched a bow while taking off an invisible hat to her. "Ye're the chief."

The scene was so hilarious that Rowan burst out laughing. "Ye devastated the kitchen?".

"Nah, I merely got meself something to eat the other day but this sweet lass is making such a fuss about it…"

She tsked indignantly. "You are an incorrigible scallywag, Captain Sparrow."

"Captain Jack Sparrow, the terror of domestic peace and great demolisher of kitchens," Rowan chuckled, still mightily amused. Paying no heed to a huffily sulking maid who didn't think it funny at all she moved closer to Jack and kissed him.

"Now will you please stop this and show a little sense of propriety! This is a decent house and I will not tolerate any decline of moral standards just because… Oh my God!" The maid fell silent and pointed to the open door. "A dragon!"

Jack's glance followed her outstretched arm, grinning. "Nah, that's just dear ol' Bill doing his weird Asian stuff."

"But… but he's half naked and painted all over!"

"Tattooed," he corrected her.

"Whatever you call it- tell him to spare us the sight. This is scandalous! If he cannot keep himself from performing heathen rituals in a decent Christian town he should at least dress properly."

"I don't get it- is there anything wrong with the sight of a good-looking, tattooed pirate?" Rowan interjected innocently.

The maid ignored her, waiting for Jack to take action, and since he didn't want to bother Bill with trivialities (such as wearing a shirt while doing his weird Asian stuff) he decided to merely shut the door. Now there was only one dragon left but she did him the favor of leaving shortly after, probably to inform her employers of unreasonable working conditions due to constantly misbehaving pirates. However, the breakfast she had served before taking her leave was definitely good.

A little later Catherine entered the kitchen and let out a squeal of joy when she spotted Rowan. Immediately she hurried to give her a welcoming hug. If the maid following in her wake had complained about them she had the grace to not show it.

"Rowan! Oh my God, it's so good to see you again, safe and sound. I sincerely hope your long ride wasn't too exhausting?"

"I'm fine." Rowan assured her notwithstanding the fact that she was still feeling a tad tired and sore. But that didn't matter now since she certainly wasn't someone who'd start whining about hard times. Instead she told Catherine what she probably required to hear most, "You might want to inform your husband that I've got the letters he's so keen on."

"That's good news. James will be pleased to hear that." Catherine replied with a smile that was somehow absent-mindedly as if she didn't really care about the letters. "Did Jack tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"I'm pregnant!"

Rowan wasn't sure whether congratulation or sympathy would be in order now, considering the idea of a small Norrington who'd probably be born with a stick in his arse just like his dad. But then she relied on Catherine's influence and found some friendly words to hide the fact that she wasn't overly excited about the news.

That moment James joined them. For the first time since she had made his acquaintance some years ago he didn't give the impression of a stiff Royal Navy officer, and she was surprised that he did actually look quite attractive when he smiled. Of course there was no reason to smile so proudly while gazing at Catherine- after all, it wasn't such a big thing to get a woman pregnant- and it didn't change the tension between Rowan and James either. She still didn't like him much and he made no secret of being equally skeptical about her. They tried to behave politely though, which was definitely harder for her than for him.

"Pleased to meet you, Milady Captain. May I require if you have succeeded in your mission to bring me evidence for Lord Beaufort's crimes?"

Before Rowan could answer, Catherine reprimanded her husband. "Oh please, James, give her a break. Rowan must be tired from her arduous ride across the island so do me a favor and forget about those letters until she has had time to relax and take a good hot bath, will you?"

"Now that's a truly wonderful idea." Jack smirked when Catherine shooed the maids to draw a bath for Rowan.

Rowan sighed with pleasure as she sank neck deep into warm water, feeling her sore muscles relax. When it came to taking a bath she could completely forget that she had made herself a reputation as a pirate captain and simply enjoyed being a woman.

The last days had been hard and not only in the sense of physical strain but even more because of the tormenting uncertainty of not knowing what Jack had to endure in prison. She had blamed herself for having left him alone that night he was captured although she knew as well that there was nothing she could have done. You just can't go and insist on guarding the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow when he merely wanted to follow the call of nature; he would have thought it absurd. Damned Jack. And yet it had been her who had landed him in this mess because of her ship and the promise she had given Tao. So much love and hate on the crossing from Madras to the Caribbean, and when things had finally begun to improve between them, after all the secrets had been spilled, she'd had to fear that she had lost him forever due to Beaufort's henchmen. At least all her worries had made certain the fact that she still loved this bloody scallywag. The realization had first hit her with a kiss aboard the Black Pearl and then had manifested in her heart. Mayhap Tao was right with her assertion that even though things would never be like they used to they could still get better…

Closing her eyes Rowan dunked her head under water, trying to shut up all these thoughts in her mind. She wanted to relax and not to brood, mulling things over. For a little while she wanted to forget all the troubles and worries that were still lurking for them outside of the putative safety of these walls, and merely concern herself with things as banal as washing her hair.

Suddenly she sensed that she wasn't alone anymore. Had the maid returned, not believing that she could wash her hair all on her onesies and might need help? Well, help she got but it weren't the hands of a humble maid. These hands were rougher, calloused, and yet gentle.

"Jack!" She concluded without turning around. "What are ye doing here?"

He stopped massaging her scalp and kissed her wet cheek before he poured water over her head with cupped hands, rinsing her hair. "Methinks it's not appropriate to let a simple maid deal with such delicate affairs since she might be startled by the adorable sight of a naked pirate captain whereas ye can't expect me to miss the opportunity of adoring that specific sight."

"Ye're an incorrigible charmer…"

"I'm only telling the truth, luv."

"…and ye're way too obsessed with my bloody red hair."

"Not blood- wine."

Rowan rolled her eyes. "Ye know, I really wonder if that's the only reason ye fell in love with me, because of that damnable hair color?"

"Ah, ye should've seen yerself taking off that hat of yers and shaking out cascades of red wine which was truly impressive. I instantaneously thought of wine 'cause it's exactly the same color as an exquisite glass of red wine held up to the light of a candle, but to honestly answer yer question I must confess that I don't know whether I had given ye a second glance if not for the exceptional color of yer hair. However, since yer hair is as wonderful as it is I consider the question mightily superfluous." Unnoticed by Rowan he had stripped and was nudging her gently now so that she would give room to let him slid into the tub. Puddles of water slopped over the sides when he tried to make himself comfortable but it didn't work as he had expected. "It's really not that big, isn't it?" He let out a dramatic sigh. "Ye might say whatever ye want 'bout Alf but ye can't deny his sense of style and ye have to bless him for the luxury of his bathrooms."

Rowan chuckled as she cuddled up to him. Of course Captain Jack Sparrow would not take a bath for the sake of cleanliness, he always had to have ulterior motives. While enjoying his proximity she remembered the good old times when they had flooded Santiago's bathroom in Tortuga or similar naughty games they had played in the tub. But he was right, this tub was way too small for any fun; it was hardly big enough for both of them to fit in. There was absolutely no room to even think about sexual activities. Probably that might have something to do with the fact that the ordinary bath tub of a decent English household was not constructed for sensual pleasures. Actually it wasn't even set up in a bathroom but in one of the guest rooms. The good thing was that the bed wasn't far away.

Some hours later Jack woke up because the whole house seemed to be restless. He got up from the bed, eager to find out what was going on. A smile curled up his lips when he glanced at Rowan and remembered what Bill had said about a little movement. He had been right, Jack mused, he was actually feeling much better. For the first time in days his shoulders weren't aching.

"What's up?" Rowan asked as she sat up and ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame some unruly strands that were falling in her face. The way she was covered with cascades of red wine flowing over her naked shoulders made Jack forget for a moment what he was about.

"Ye look absolutely stunning, luv. So sensual and wanton, and so… naked. I'd rather crawl back to bed with ye but unfortunately there's something going on that I don't want to miss."

It didn't take them long to find out what had happened. Bennet had brought the news that Lieutenant Groves had been arrested for conspiring with pirates, and Norrington was fuming. The former Commodore had just finished reading the letters and was more than eager to take action against Lord Beaufort.

"He is clearly abusing his position with this arbitrary arrest. I will pay him a visit and confront him with these letters…"

"I wouldn't do that if I were ye unless of course ye want to get yerself shot which he will most definitely do quite unceremoniously and without even blinking an eye." Jack cut him off when he and Rowan entered the salon where Bennet, the Norringtons and Bill had assembled. "D'ye really want yer child to become a fatherless orphan before it is born?"

Catherine let out a startled gasp.

"Of course not," James comfortingly patted his wife's arm before turning his attention to Jack, "but I cannot sit back and take things easy either. Lord Beaufort is violating the law and I will not let a loyal naval officer like Lieutenant Groves become a victim of his ruthless politics. By the love for my King, I cannot let him go unpunished. He has to pay for his crimes- mind, His Royal Highness, King William III, will not mourn the death of Asian pirates or Spanish smugglers but he does take offense in high treason."

"Confront him with that and he's got another reason to shoot ye on the spot which leaves us with nothing in our hands but the knowledge that Randy Charly is a lowdown bastard dressed in fancy clothes though we unfortunately have no proof for it. Ye can't possibly want to diminish Rowan's endeavor of riding hell for leather to get ye the letters with such a poorly thought up plan."

"Do you have any better idea, Captain Sparrow?" James snapped, sounding frustrated because he was feeling helpless. Under no circumstances he wanted to risk his life or that of Catherine and his unborn child but his conscience told him that he had stop Beaufort from conspiring against his king and country; he had to stop his depraved activities.

Before Jack could answer, Bill intervened with a calm voice. "What about that piece of paper ye talked about, the one that would grant ye control over the military forces of Port Royal?"

"Bill is right, Uncle Rupert gave you a letter of plenary authority, James." Catherine said.

James thought about it, pondering aloud. "I could go to Commodore Morrison and convince him to support me in bringing an end to Beaufort's arbitrary whims by uncovering his real intentions with the help of these letters…"

"Now that sounds like the witty Jamie I was always rooting for," Jack stated smirking.

"… but is Commodore Richard Morrison a trustworthy person?" James continued regardless of the pirate's comment, "Or is he also involved in this quagmire of corruption Port Royal has become?"

"Well," Bill cleared his throat, aware of that everybody was staring at him. Though he- unlike Jack- didn't like to be the center of attention he nevertheless had to utter his opinion now since he was probably the only one of them who really knew Morrison. After all, he had lived in Port Royal for quite a while and he had seen his son becoming friends with the naval officer. "Commodore Morrison is sensible man. I'm positive that he will support ye against Beaufort given that ye can prove that Beaufort is indeed misusing his position- which ye can. He does have a soft spot for my son though and it's likely that he'd shut is eyes on anything concerning him, but on the other hand he is decidedly loyal to his king and country. I doubt that anything will actually hinder his cooperation."

"Good to know, thank you very much for the information. I will go to have a serious conversation with Commodore Morrison now."

Jack glanced at Rowan and their eyes locked in silent understanding. It was unlikely that Randy Charly's henchmen would allow the two naval officers to conspire against Beaufort; he knew that as well as she did. The way she was braiding her hair in two tight plaits told him that she was ready for mischief.