Belle.
I pulled her hips closer to mine. Not close enough. I followed the curve of her body up towards her shoulders and wondered if the fire that burned in me burned as brightly in her too. She pressed her lips on mine. Harder. I had my answer. I found the ties of her dress. She ran her hands up my chest and then across my shoulders, holding her body tightly to mine. I pulled my mouth from hers, craving more of her than I could possibly get. These damn ties. I inhaled. She filled me up. It's the only way I can describe it -her scent in my lungs, her taste on my lips, her skin beneath my fingertips, her warmth pressed against my body. My heart beat so hard, so fast. She was all that was in it and now she was coursing through my veins with a heat unlike any other I'd felt before. I pressed my lips to her neck. Her skin was warm, soft.My heart beat a little harder. Yes. She let out a gentle moan. Yes.
"Belle," I whispered it into her collarbone. I was on the verge of losing myself exploring her.
Boom.
Bugger.
A loud knock and she jumped away from me. She fixed her wild, frightened eyes on mine. I tried to catch my breath. Bugger, who the hell was that?! Will they leave? We stayed completely silent and motionless. What if it's George? What if it's George? Silence stretched on around us, nobody came in, but nobody walked away from the door either. Just leave us alone. Leave us alone. Another knock.
Bugger.
"Isabelle?" someone called. A female. Probably not George then. Thank God. I felt Belle relax in my arms and then she stretched up to whisper in my ear.
"Hide," she murmured. "It's only Ellie, but we can't take any more chances."
I have no idea who Ellie is, but I don't care because she's not George. Belle drew back a little and I nodded at her, but didn't want to let go of her in case she vanished and I never saw her again. Or I woke up and all of this had been a lovely dream with a horrible ending. I brushed my finger against her warm cheek. If it is a dream, don't bother waking me up. Just let me starve to death in my sleep thinking this is real. She smiled at me and pressed her lips gently to mine before she turned her back on me and walked to the door.
Bugger.
Somewhere to hide… somewhere to hide…
It's well-established that I am very good at hide and seek. I have an almost super-human ability to hide anywhere and from anything. To my memory, only the Kraken has succeeded in finding me when I didn't want to be found. And it had help. Murderous, strumpet-y help that was armed with handcuffs to be precise.
"I couldn't find you anywhere, Miss. I was getting worried you'd been kidnapped!" I heard the female voice that definitely wasn't George gush as she entered the room.
Why?
Why would that be your first assumption? Have I been seen somewhere? Bugger bugger bugger bugger. I lay extra still just in case and even tried to quiet my thoughts. You can never tell if someone around you has the ability to read your thoughts until they've already read them and it's too late.
Shh.
Don't think 'shh' or she'll wonder who's 'shh'ing her. Damn it.
"Kidnapped?" Belle asked casually. "Why would you think that?"
That's not an odd question to ask, is it? Is it…?
STOP THINKING.
"Well, it wouldn't exactly be the first time now would it?" They both laughed. "You do have the worst luck with them- you and Miss Swann."
"Yes, I suppose you could say that," Belle replied.
You could… if you were an ignorant fool. I don't remember a single time that Belle left under anything other than voluntary circumstances. But it seems she came back here under false pretences, so who's kidnapping who now?
I realised I was thinking again and froze in the silence that followed Belle's remark. It seemed a little bit too long.
Ellie is smelly, I thought and tried to make it loud, wondering if a mind-reader can tell if you're shouting inside your own head or not. That's why they call her Smelly Ellie. There was nothing but silence. There was no way she could read minds, she'd definitely have reacted to that. I waited.
"What happened to Miss Swann?" Ellie asked. Phew, I'm safe.
"I don't know…" Belle replied with a laboured sigh. I was mildly impressed by her lying and acting skills. Perhaps she had learned some things from me after all. "We were separated… I hope she's alright."
"I'm sure she's fine," her maid replied. That doesn't sound genuine at all. No points for you on the lying scale. You're clearly sure she's dead. "And I'm sure those stories of her turning pirate aren't true. They weren't true about you and Miss Swann would never hurt a fly."
Haha!
ARE YOU SERIOUS?
Oh.
Ooops I accidentally laughed out loud.
"Did you hear that?" I froze again during Ellie's frightened whisper.
"Hear what?" Belle asked innocently. There was another pause that seemed to last longer than the one before. I held my breath. Now was not the time to be discovered and I had no intention of trying to bargain with someone who thought that a Murderous Strumpet 'wouldn't hurt a fly'. "I didn't hear anything."
"Oh," was the confused reply and then after a moment the conversation moved on. It moved on and on and on and on because Ellie talked and talked and talked and I nearly fell asleep. She seemed very boring, but I didn't want to snore in case she heard me. I had no choice but to stay awake. I listened and watched occasional pair of feet passing by my hiding place. I listened to her stories that didn't seem to have a point or an ending or be about anyone that she actually knew very well personally. I listened as some kind of screen was rolled out and they both stepped behind it. I listened with slight annoyance as Belle's wedding dress hit the floor.
I was doing a pretty good job of getting that off myself thank you, Ellie.
The screen was rolled away again and that damn dress was put away. Probably forever… thank God.
Wait… if the dress is away… what is Belle wearing now? I listened really hard. Is it nothing? Does it sound like she's wearing nothing? The silence didn't tell me anything useful, maybe if she spoke I'd be able to work it out.This was taking so long that I was getting cramp in my foot. Ellie's footsteps neared the door. Oh God I cannot wait for her to leave. I stretched my toes and wiggled them around.
"Ellie, wait!"
WHAT? NO! SHE'S FINALLY LEAVING. I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANY MORE OF HER STORIES.
"Yes, Miss?"
"Here." I heard the distinct rattle of coins and then a stunned silence.
"What's this?"
Belle's bare feet passed me as she made her way to climb into the bed above me. "Just a thank you," she said. "For looking after me." This is why I love you. "Do what you like with it, but try and keep it to yourself. I'm not sure if George would approve."
There was a silence.
If her feet are bare, maybe she actually is naked….
I heard the door open, but it did not close. Leave. Please leave. "Goodnight, Miss," Ellie said and it sounded more like 'thank you'. The door closed. Finally.
I scrambled out of that dark, confined space, grateful that all of my limbs still worked. I slipped in to bed beside Isabelle, slightly disappointed to find her clothed but just grateful that she was there for me to put my arms around. "It's just me, love," I murmured into her ear. She rested her head on my chest.
"Thank goodness for that! I thought it was a giant rat with all that racket!" she whispered.
I laughed and kissed the top of her head. She has a very kissable head… I rested my head on it. Good to lean on too. I ran my fingers through her hair and enjoyed how soft it was now that it was free of all those damn pins. I felt her sigh in a happy and contented way. I was so warm, so happy. "I missed you, Jack."
I wanted to kiss her, but she looked so comfortable that I didn't want to disturb her, "I missed you too, Belle." I don't want to move ever. As long as I'm here and she's here and we're left in peace. Forever. I closed my eyes for a moment and just enjoyed having her back in my arms. This was the first time I had felt truly relaxed in a long time. Nope, Jack-y, don't fall asleep now or you'll end up swinging from the gallows. I opened my eyes again. "We should probably leave."
She sighed. "Yeah," In a minute though. Neither of us moved. She shifted her position slightly, but didn't get up. "How did you get in?"
"The door."
Obviously.
"And no-one saw you?"
"Nah," I shrugged. "You were all busy with your dinner,"
She nodded and then paused. "How did you know this was my room?" I didn't know how to answer her. She leant up on her hands and looked at me. "...Jack?"
"Well, I thought the dresses hanging in here were a little bit girly even for George and..." I took a breath. "it was the only room I went into that smelt like you."
Is that weird? Does that make me weird? I moved away from her and sat up. Now she thinks I'm really weird. I heard the bed creak behind me as she sat up. I wanted to say something but my throat was dry. I felt oddly exposed. And not in the good way. The bed dipped beside me, she placed a hand gently on the side of my face and guided me to look at her. Her eyes were brighter than I expected them to be and she kissed me in a way that made me forget why I had ever been uncomfortable in the first place.
She pulled away from me, still smiling. "Let's go." I nodded. Are there any two better words in the world?
She got up and walked over to a desk in the corner of her room. Wait… what? Why is this happening? She stood up and I followed suit, ready to reach for the door and get out of here for good. When I turned back around to look at her she had pulled out a piece of parchment, a quill and some ink. This doesn't look like leaving…
What does she think leaving is?
"Isabel, what are you doing?" I asked her as she dipped her quill in some ink.
"Leaving a note for George," she said so casually she might have been talking about the weather. I took the quill out of her hand. She looked up at me, sighed and narrowed her eyes. "Give it back!"
"No!" I narrowed my eyes right back at her and hid the quill behind my back where she couldn't see it and therefore would hopefully forget about it. "I shan't!"
There was a short silence where she just tried to stare me out.
Okay, so she's not forgotten then…
I took it out and waved it above her head. "Jack!" she kept her eyes trained on it, but didn't move. "He deserves an explanation."
Something very ugly and a little bit painful flared up inside me and twisted in my gut. "There are a lot of things that man deserves, but an explanation is not one of them!" I snapped and she looked a little bit taken aback. "He doesn't deserve anything to do with you."
I stepped past her and put the quill to the parchment. I thought that it might be difficult to decide on what exactly to say, but once I put quill to parchment the words spilled out of me pretty easily. I had no idea I had so much to say about George. "Erm…" Belle stuttered. "Jack, what are you doing?"
"Leaving a note for George," I said. Obviously. Can't you see it? That was your idea after all. .
"Erm…" She cleared her throat.
Not now. I'm in the middle of a very important letter.
"Get something more practical on," I told her. I'm busy and you can't run around the Pearl in your nightgown.
"Oh yes, my life is full of practical clothing (!)" she retorted. "George loves it when I wear my pirate clothes (!)."
"Shut up, Belle."
Now is not the time. I have a lot to do.
She eventually flounced off and I was aware of her rummaging around in the background. I was so busy writing that I didn't even have the energy to be annoyed that Isabelle was getting undressed in the same room as me for the second time that day and I had nothing to do with it.
"There," I smiled at her, proud of what I had done. Eloquent and to the point. As always. She pulled the parchment from my hands and scanned it. I watched her as she did so, waiting with growing anticipation to see her laugh and smile. Her eyes widened, her smile did not.
"Jack!" she gasped. "We can't leave this!"
My heart sank. "Why not? I thought I was being considerably polite, given the circumstances."
I held back quite a lot, you know.
"Well you're not!" she shook her head and went back to reading. At least she didn't discard it straight away. I watched as her eyebrows slid down from where they had been raised to a fairly normal level and then further into a deep frown. She wrinkled her nose. "I'm not even sure that's a word!"
She pointed at a spot on the page. I leant over to see where she was focused on. I don't see the problem. "Everything's a word once you've said it," I shrugged. And then added, "and that one cleans him up quite nicely," in case she needed any more convincing. She looked up at me and I could tell she was trying really hard not to smile at me, so that she could "We're not leaving this for George."
"We are," I smiled.
"No, we're not. There are no valid reasons for it."
I planned for this.
"There is," I told her. "I wrote them on the back."
She turned the parchment over in her hands. She bit her lip, holding back a laugh. "You wrote them under 'Reasons I Hate You'?"
"Yup," I was proud that I had made this all so clear and easy to understand. "Good title, eh?"
She half-laughed, half-sighed. There was a slight pause as she read through them. I started looking around at her things. Some of them were very shiny. "I refuse to leave this, Jack!" she said, as she reached the end.
Urgh, why? Why are you so nice to him?
She started writing another letter and I decided to stop fighting her on this. I turned my wasted attention to the shiny things in her room instead.
"Is this yours?" I held some of them up to her. Are they important to you? Do you want them, do you need them? She looked at me over her shoulder and shrugged.
"Probably," she murmured. How can you not know? She smiled at me before turning her attention back to the new letter. "Feel free to steal what you want, I don't care."
Good answer.
"It's not stealing if you feel free when you do said stealing," I pointed out. Although it does kind of make up for me not being able to leave that letter. "George will not be happy. I'm stealing you too."
And I'm not sorry about it.
She looked back up at me. "Taking what is already yours is not stealing either."
Okay… that was a good answer. The best answer and it makes all other answers to anything look rubbish.
I couldn't stop smiling and felt instantly less angry with George. Maybe this wasn't really entirely his fault. Maybe he, like so many, was just a victim of ingrained ideas about pirates. Maybe he had also thought that I had sailed away with the Pearl and was genuinely trying to protect and look after Belle. They were friends after all. I couldn't really be angry with him for that, could I? It was the trying to marry her that I was angry about. And I still didn't like him. But, for whatever reason, Belle did and I had to respect that friendship. She was choosing me after all. I crossed the room and circled my arms around her waist from behind. I rested my head on her shoulder and read what she had written;
Dear George,
I would say that I am sorry, but the truth is I'm not.
I don't belong here like I used to. I need to be free to do my own thing and I can't do that here. I need to be happy and that will never happen if I stay in Port Royale. I wish you all the best for you have been a good friend over the years.
Yours truly,
Isabelle
X
"You didn't use my word," I sighed. "And I may not have been all that polite, but I think you are running the risk of being a bit too polite."
She turned around and touched my cheek, looking at me with too much love for me to be genuinely annoyed with the way she was treating the man who had kept us apart. "Can we just go, please?"
I nodded and took her by the hand, leading her out into the dark corridor. I had sort of forgotten the layout of the house and it was so dark that I barely recognised anything, but Belle knew her way around and guided me with great ease. We reached the staircase and I noticed how silent everything was. The dinner guests must have gone home long ago. All of the household staff in bed. I wondered if where they slept was as nice as Isabelle's room. Doubtful. We neared the door and I felt Belle's grip tighten on mine in anticipation of our freedom. I couldn't be sure, but I thought that something broke the silence. I glanced around and saw a shadow move in the darkness. We've been seen.
"Bugger," I whispered and Isabelle stopped, turned.
"What have we here?" a cold, male voice asked from the shadows on the landing above us. It sounded an awful lot like George.
