A/N: Right, so I love you all, so please don't hate me for how this chapter ends! I promise that the next chapter will be posted within the week! Thank you so, so, so much for your lovely, wonderful comments and kudo's!
Abigail rested for two days, letting her jellyfish sting heal and the pain ease off. Oddly enough, Billy seemed to do a fair amount of relaxing as well. He kept the fire going, piled high with damp wood that created a thicker smoke that could (hopefully) be seen from afar, and he caught their dinner, but apart from idly drawing some ideas for a potential boat, he stuck close to the shelter.
Abigail didn't mind, but the morning of the third day, she got up, walked out of the shelter, and stared at him, her hands on her hips. He just grinned a little.
"Tired of resting?" he asked.
"More than," she said. "Please give me something to do."
He laughed and held up his hands. "All right, all right. Let me think."
"In the meantime, I'll fetch the water," she said going over to the bucket. She wrapped a bit of linen around her palm and lifted the bucket, aware that he watched her closely. She smiled at him and just called out, "I'm fine. Stop worrying. And come up with something for me to do!"
She walked away to the sound of him chuckling and enjoyed the walk to the rainwater. She filled the bucket and headed back to the beach. The waves were crashing loudly onto the beach and she kept an eye on the blue-green water, noticing the reef seemed to stir the waves more than usual.
How on earth were they going to cross that? Murphy in a small basket was one thing, two people in a boat was something else.
"Are you truly thinking of building a ship?" she asked when she reached the shelter, setting the bucket down with relief.
"It's an idea," he said shrugging and digging in the sand a little. Abigail saw a few drawings of possible boats and she waited for him to explain. "The main problem is that my cutlass isn't exactly made to chop down multiple trees."
"I had wondered about that," she said sitting down and opened up a coconut to nibble on.
"But it did occur to me that we haven't explored the other side of the island," he said.
"We haven't," she said brightening. "I assumed that was because the shipping lane was on this side."
"It is," he said. "But that doesn't mean there isn't anything there." He eyed her and smirked as she fidgeted. "Wanting your own private expedition, Miss Ashe?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "I will, naturally, bow to your lead in the matter."
"Very kind," he said. "Eat your breakfast, get some water, and we'll go."
"Now?"
"Did you have other plans?" he asked, before his brow furrowed. "Is your arm hurting?"
He moved towards her and picked up her arm, looking at the still pink lines. She curled her fingers around his hand and squeezed.
"It's fine," she said. "There's some lingering pain, but it's more than manageable. I'm all right."
He looked at her and nodded. "Right then. Eat up."
She devoured her coconut, made sure her little flask had plenty of water, and retied her stays over her chemise. She'd considered putting her shirt back on, but decided that it was too hot and her stays and chemise provided sufficient cover. Her sense of modesty had rather fallen to the wayside once it occurred to her that Billy had sliced right through her dress and stays without hesitation. He'd already seen her sweating and pale with fever, he could put up with her in her chemise. It covered more than enough of her skin.
Besides, she thought, He's hardly going to ravish me in the woods. He's already admitted that he won't allow whatever this is to go any further. And I highly doubt I'm all that attractive at present. I'm certain my nose is red and my freckles have sprung up.
She folded her shirt and left it in the shelter, then walked to where Billy waited at the treeline.
"Ready and able, sir," she said smiling.
He snickered and said, "If my men were only half as diligent as you; no fleet in the world could stop us."
"I've always thought women should be allowed to fight," she said as they walked. "We're just as bloodthirsty as men and our attention spans are much greater."
"Oh?" he asked as they approached the well and skirted around the side. "How do you figure?"
"Have you ever had to sit completely still for hours at a time whilst embroidering?" she asked.
"Can't say that I have."
"Try it," she said. "And then tell me that women don't have a strong constitution."
He chuckled. "Not a chance. I'm more than aware that I'd concede within the first quarter of an hour."
"I'm very glad to hear you admit it," she replied cheerfully, nimby stepping over a fallen palm tree.
The island was indeed very narrow as she'd thought when they first washed up on the beach. Just as the sounds of the waves behind them disappeared, she heard the waves crashing somewhere ahead of them. The terrain grew even sandier and the trees thinned out leaving palmettoes and other small shrubs in their path.
They reached the other side far quicker than Abigail expected and they stopped at the edge of a substantial drop to the beach below. Billy eyed the distance and then jumped down, landing heavily in the sand below, the waves tumbled onto the shore not too far away.
He turned back to Abigail and held up his hands. "I've got you."
She frowned, eyeing the distance down and how to precisely get into his arms. Eventually, she sat down on the ledge and leaned down, her arms outstretched.
Billy's hands curled around her ribcage and he easily lifted her down the rest of the way. He held her suspended in the air for a brief, dizzying moment before her feet landed on the sand and her eyes held his the entire time. His hands flexed as they slid down to her hips, steadying her on the uneven sand. Her own hands slipped from his shoulders to rest on his chest, his heartbeat thudded steadily under her palm.
They stepped away from the other at the same time, their gaze dropping to the ground and Abigail smoothed her hands over the front of her skirts.
"It seems far sandier on this side," she commented, internally rolling her eyes at how ridiculous she sounded.
"It's shallower between here and the other islands that way," he said pointing out to sea. "Too many sandbars make this impossible to sail."
Abigail looked out over the terribly blue water and let herself admire the view. Yes, she was stranded, but heavens, it was incredibly beautiful. She breathed in the fresh salty air and lifted her face into a light breeze.
She turned to ask Billy what he'd like her to do, but found him already staring at her, his expression hard to read.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
He nodded and cleared his throat. "Yeah, just… You look better. Today. Than you did." She raised her eyebrows at him. "You know, from when you were ill from the sting the other day. You, ah, you just look better, that's all."
With a grimace, he turned away and headed towards the waterline, scrubbing the back of his neck as he walked. Abigail held back a laugh at whatever that had been, and followed him.
"What are you hoping to find?" she asked looking up and down the small beach.
"A ship in perfect working order?" he said glancing at her; when she laughed, he grinned. "I wasn't hoping for anything in particular; but our Spanish friends got here somehow and I wondered if there was something back here that we could use."
Sadly, apart from some driftwood, there wasn't much in the way of anything useful. They walked in silence along the surf and Abigail pointed.
"Is that netting?" she asked and set off quickly towards it before Billy could answer.
It was. A larger amount than she'd had before and she tugged at where it was submerged in the sand and still tied to a large length of rope. Billy helped and pulled on the rope.
"This isn't too bad," he said. "Cut your net off the rope and we'll take them both back with us."
"Looks like we'll be having fish for supper tonight," she said happily.
He chuckled and walked down the beach to inspect some other bits of driftwood, while Abigail pulled the netting out of the way of the water and set her knife to the edges where it knotted along the rope.
She tried to cut the net with her small knife but the salt-encrusted hardened rope gave her difficulty. Teeth bared, she kept at it.
"Need to sharpen that later," Billy said behind her. "Try this."
She looked up and blinked at him handing her his cutlass. Awkwardly, she gripped it with two hands and struggled to find a decent place to saw at the netting. After some time, she cut through it and stumbled back when the tension gave.
Billy chuckled.
"Oh, hush," she said handing his cutlass back to him. "I managed, didn't I?"
"You did indeed," he said sliding the cutlass back into his belt. He eyed her and then looked out to sea as he sighed. "Are you truly not going back? To England? You really mean to carry on all by yourself?"
Abigail frowned. "Yes, I do. I've told you, there's no going back for me. There's nothing for me to go back to. Well, at least nothing I want to go back to." She looked out at the sea. "My future lies in going forward. Whether that means settling in Nassau or someplace else. I'm not going back."
"Yeah," he said nodding. "That's what I thought."
"Why do you ask?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.
"I'm asking because," he started slowly, "if you really are heading into the unknown, I'm going to make damn well sure that you can defend yourself." He patted his cutlass. "Starting with this."
Her breath caught in her throat. "You mean that? You'll teach me?"
"Yeah," he said looking at her. "I'm not about to let you swan off without being able to make sure no one lays a hand on you without your permission."
"You." She swallowed back something very much like happiness. "You believe that I can do it? Survive on my own?"
He shrugged. "Well, yeah. Fuck, Abigail, if it weren't for other people being complete bastards, I wouldn't have a single worry about you. You've already shown that you're capable and smart and willing to work hard. Yeah, I think you can do whatever the hell you want to do. I-"
Billy broke off because she'd launched herself at him, hugging him tightly. She stood on her tiptoes as she awkwardly wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
"Thank you," she breathed, pressing her face against his neck. "No one's ever believed in me before."
He'd frozen the moment she hugged him and she waited for him to do something minor, like pat her head or back. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her waist and embraced her back. Her toes left the ground and she closed her eyes as she revelled in the feel of him so strong and close.
"You can do anything," he murmured next to her ear. "I just want you safe, Abigail. That's all."
"Thank you," she said again, her hand coming up to cup the back of his head, his hair bristly against her palm, but warmed by the sun.
He turned his face fully into her, and his mouth brushed over the skin between her throat and her shoulder and she shivered. He froze again.
Slowly, he set her down, his hands slid to her hips and she looked up at him. His eyes had darkened and an ache settled into her abdomen and oh, she wanted…
A strong wave broke over their feet and Abigail laughed a little as she lost her footing. Billy grinned as he steadied her.
"All right?" he asked.
"Yes," she said nodding. "When will you start teaching me?"
"Any plans for the afternoon?" he asked with a shrug.
"Not a one," she replied.
What the fuck are you doing? he thought as they walked back to the other side of the island. He carried the rope and some bits of flat wood he'd found and Abigail carried her netting. She walked along beside him, her bare feet stepping easily over the sand and palm fronds, and a smile on her face. A smile that hadn't left her face since he told her that he believed in her and Jesus Christ, what was he doing?
Billy swallowed hard and ignored his inner voices and just focussed on what he'd teach her first.
"We need to sharpen that little knife of yours," he said as they emerged from the tree cover. "I'm going to show you how to use it well."
"Against your cutlass?" she asked, sounding confused.
"Nah, against a man," he said.
Her step faltered. "What do you… Oh. Oh, I see."
"I'm teaching you to win, Abigail," he said, not looking at her. "I'll teach you how to use the cutlass, too, but first you're going to learn how to do enough damage to get away. Is that all right?"
"Yes," she said quietly. "Yes, it's all right."
He gritted his teeth and once more, asked himself what the fuck he was doing?
You are going to regret this, my lad, he thought.
An hour later, he proved himself completely right and regretted every decision he'd ever made in his life that led him to the very moment in which he found himself flat on his back, Abigail Ashe sprawled over him, her knife pressed close to his throat.
He needed to clarify one point, he thought. A grinning Abigail Ashe sprawled over him, her knife pressed close to his throat.
Like with everything, Abigail had taken to fighting with dedication and bright, open eyes. She'd hesitated the first few times he'd shown her how to jab her knife into certain soft spots on a man's body, but that hesitation fled quickly.
"The thigh, the throat, and the eyes," he'd said initially. "If you can manage a good thrust into any of those places you can usually get away."
"Thigh, throat, and eyes, right," she said nodding.
"But what is it you should focus on in the first instance?" he asked.
"Running away?" she said, squinting a little.
"Yes, good girl. Now, I'm going to come at you from behind," he said. "Do you best to jab me."
"With my knife?" she asked, her eyes wide.
He chuckled. "Not yet. Let's just get you punching those spots first, yeah?"
"Yeah," she said bouncing a bit on her feet. "I'm ready."
He walked behind her and wrapped his arms around her and she struck at his thighs with her small fists. Then his throat, then his eyes. They practiced for an hour, until they paused for water and a few coconuts.
Then he'd told her to pick up her knife.
It took her a few tries to really grasp it the right way and she still hesitated before she moved, but after some practice, she jabbed quickly and accurately.
"Now," he said as he stood tall, his hands loose at his sides. "Come at me."
She eyed him, her fingers tightened on her knife, and she darted towards him…and took him by complete surprise. She lunged at his right side and when he shifted to dodge her blow, it was too late to realise that she'd only feinted to his right and her knife was headed straight for his thigh. Her eyes widened when she realised that she was about to stab him for real, and he grabbed her arm and tugged. Their feet tangled together and Billy fell backwards, pulling Abigail down with him as he went.
"Oomph." The breath went out of him as he landed and Abigail squeaked as she fell atop him. He looked up into her face and she looked down and then grinned. That's when he noticed that she'd pulled her wrist out of his grip and her knife was placed against his throat.
"I just want to remind you," she said breathlessly, "that you told me to come at you."
He grinned up at her and said, "I did, didn't I? Well done, Miss Ashe."
Her laugh was clear and bright and he joined in, helpless not to. He soon discovered that his hands rested on her hips and her weight on him was pleasant and…fuck.
With a cough, he squeezed her hips and sat up, gently dislodging her. Her smile didn't fade as she asked, "Shall I try again?"
"Oh, no," he said getting to her feet and offering her a hand up. "You're ruthless and I don't fancy a knife in my gut today."
Her hand slipped easily into his and he pulled her to her feet with a light tug. "In that case," she said. "I'll catch dinner."
But even as she declared her intentions, she yawned. Widely. And then looked so wonderfully embarrassed, Billy couldn't help but laugh.
"The hell you will," he said. "For two reasons. You're exhausted and you haven't fashioned your net, yet."
She blushed and laughed. "Excellent points; both of them."
"Go," he said nudging her towards the shelter. "I'll manage."
"Very well," she said as she slipped her knife into her sash and walked towards the fire and the pile of netting.
Billy watched her go and for a moment, his expression turned pained. Self-control was something he'd always been a true master over. He could endure torture, pain, and back-breaking work. So, how was it that a small, slip of a woman was able to move him towards a breaking point so swiftly?
It's her kindness, lad, Gates' voice said in his head. She's a kind, gentle soul and we've no experience with that sort, am I right?
Billy sighed and rubbed the back of his head. No, he didn't have much experience with kindness and her smiles and lovely voice stuck in his chest and try as he might, he couldn't seem to shift them. He'd just about come to accept his decision that he'd protect her as long as he could and not ask for anything in return, no matter how much he wanted to. But then she had to hug him and appreciate him and damn it. He squeezed his eyes shut.
He wasn't for the likes of her. He'd never been and he never would be and he had to cling to that knowledge with both hands otherwise, he'd kiss her and never stop.
He opened his eyes and blinked at the bright sun. Christ, it was bloody hot.
"Fuck it," he muttered and sat down on the beach to take his boots off. His sweat-soaked, filthy shirt was next and he wrapped it about his head to provide some shade. He rolled up his trousers and then waded into the water, taking a moment or two to splash the water on his arms and chest. He figured he should probably remain covered in Abigail's presence. It's what a gentleman would do, after all. But he was no fucking gentleman and considering she'd begun to go around with only her stays and that thin bit of linen underneath, well… It wasn't as though there was anyone around to comment on either of them.
He pulled his cutlass free of his belt and settled into catching dinner.
Sometime later, Billy sat by the fire as Abigail handed him some of the crabs he'd caught, their shells nice and hot. She settled down near him and tucked into her own supper as he did.
She hummed as she ate. "I can admit that I'm slightly tired of eating the same thing, day after day," she admitted. "But I can't deny that it does taste lovely after a long day."
"Anything's better than hard tack," he said around a mouthful of crab.
She wrinkled her nose. "Or maggoty bread."
"Where the hell'd you have to eat that?" he asked, making a face.
"In the Nassau fort," she said. "When Vane held me prisoner."
Billy frowned. "Oh."
"It was still an improvement on my previous accommodations," she said plucking bits of crabmeat from the shell. "And I only ever saw him, not his crew, until Miss Guthrie came for me."
"Still," Billy said. "Shouldn't've happened at all."
"Well, I can certainly agree with that sentiment," she said wryly.
They fell back into silence as they ate and when they were done, Billy tossed the shells into the fire and took up his evening ritual of sharpening his weapons. Abigail handed her little knife over to him without a word, then settled down to sort out a new fishing net for herself.
Several long, comfortable moments passed in silence before Abigail said, "You said something the other day that I didn't quite understand."
"Yeah?" Billy said looking down the length of his cutlass, then applying it to the whetstone.
"About Mr Silver?" she asked. "And his leg? You said something about his iron leg? What did you mean?"
Billy's stomach roiled and he held himself completely still; and then he said, "When Vane boarded the warship in Charles Town, he left some of his men onboard while he took your diary into the square to retrieve Flint." Billy let out a breath. "Vane's men decided that they'd rather find the Urca gold themselves and not wait for Vane to return. They took Silver's leg when he refused to tell them anything."
"Oh," she said softly and he felt her eyes on him. "Oh, how horrible. I'm so sorry. Were you-?"
"Nearby?" he said. "Yeah. Heard the whole fucking thing but couldn't get there before they took his leg." He picked up his cutlass and applied it to the whetstone with force. "Fucking cowards. Vane wouldn't have done things that way. No point to it."
"He took Ned Low's head," she said quietly.
Billy paused, but didn't really have a reply to that. Vane took Low's head for Eleanor Guthrie and well…that was another kind of matter altogether. It disturbed him greatly that he was beginning to understand the other man's motivations. Vane'd only fed Abigail badly and Billy wished the man was alive if only to punch him. As it was, part of him thought simply beheading Ned Low was too easy a punishment for what he'd done to Abigail.
"How is Mr Silver now?" she asked. "I didn't speak to him very much when I was with your crew. He seemed very…clever. Always watching."
Billy snorted. "That's him. Clever and always watching. He and Flint are thick as thieves these days and if they can manage to keep the course, we may just win this fucking thing."
"It sounds as though you don't trust them," she said and he glanced at her, noticing that she'd put her net aside and was focussed on him.
"I don't," he admitted. "I trust Silver to look out for the crew as long as it lies with his own interests and I trust Flint to follow his path of revenge; which as long as it follows my path, is an asset. But I think he'd drop the lot of us if it meant he could win the war waging in his head."
She was silent and when he looked at her again, her gaze was fixed on the fire. Eventually she said, "England has a great deal to answer for, doesn't it?"
"Yes," he said swiping the whetstone along the cutlass. "A very great deal, indeed."
"I hope you find the victory you deserve," she said looking back at him. "No one should have to suffer as you and so many others have."
He met her eyes and Christ, he wanted to touch her. Just…lay a hand on her hair, her cheek, feel her heartbeat under his palm.
Instead, he remained silent and held her gaze, until she smiled a little.
"I think I'll turn in," she said getting to her feet. "Will you instruct me with the cutlass tomorrow?"
"Depends," he said.
"Upon?"
"How much you remember from today," he said grinning.
She lifted her chin. "Challenge accepted, Mr Bones."
With a sharp turn, she left the fireside and went into the shelter.
Billy remained by the fire and sharpened the weapons to perfection as the sun went down. Then he lay in the dark, and listened to the sound of the waves as they crashed on the shore as he contemplated the woman asleep a few feet away.
"Oomph!" Abigail landed on her back and Billy peered down at her.
"All right?" he asked, trying not to laugh.
"Yes," she said waving her hand. "That was my fault. I lunged forward too far."
"You did," he said holding out a hand. "But you got away. Sort of."
She bounced a little when he pulled her up. "Sort of. What's next?"
They'd been practicing fighting for the last two days, and just when Billy thought he'd stopped being surprised by her enthusiasm to learn, she'd smile that smile at him and he'd be taken aback all over again.
"Oh, no," he said holding his hands up. "Dinner. I'm not about to start duelling with you on an empty stomach."
"Very well," she said handing his cutlass back to him. "I did promise fish for supper, after all."
"Still can't believe you manage to catch anything with that thing," he said nodding at her net. "Looks like it's about to fall apart."
She frowned at him and then down at her net. "What do you mean? It works perfectly well."
"Yeah, but using a sword's quicker," he said.
"Not always," she retorted. "As I recall, it took you some time yesterday to catch even four crabs. Whereas I always manage to catch some fish." She faced him. "In fact, I'd wager that I could catch more than you."
"Oh, you would, would you?" he asked coming to stand in front of her, and her head tipped back to hold his gaze. "I think I'll take your wager, Miss Ashe. My sword versus your net. Whoever catches the most for supper wins."
"Is there a time limit?" she asked, already moving to knot her skirts together so that her legs were free of fabric and he swallowed hard at the sight of her tiny ankles.
"Half an hour," he said. "When the shadows hit that point there."
He pointed at the shadows of the nearest tree and Abigail nodded. "I accept your terms, Mr Bones. May the best fisherman win."
She held out her hand and Billy grinned as he shook it.
Half an hour later, Billy stared down at the sizeable pile of tiny fish at Abigail's feet. He looked between her pile and his respectable, he thought, pile of ten crabs. While the crabs were decent-sized, Abigail certainly had caught far more fish than he had; there had to be upwards of twenty fish wriggling on the sand.
"I believe I've won," she said mildly.
He stared at the fish and then at her. "What the fuck are those?"
"Fish," she stated.
"They're too small to eat!"
She cocked her head to the side. "Now, the stipulations of our wager said nothing about the food needing to be edible. Only that the person who caught the most won." She glanced at his pile of crabs and then at him. "I clearly caught the most."
His eyes widened and his jaw dropped, and then she had the audacity to smile and laugh.
"You know, you're the pirate here, I imagined you to be better versed in manufacturing outcomes to your advantage," she said.
"'Manufacturing outcomes'?" he repeated. "Are you saying that pirates cheat?"
"Are you saying that you always play by the rules?" she countered, and God help him, he was about to do something monumentally stupid.
He blinked and stepped towards her. "Abigail."
"Yes?"
"Remember what I told you to do when faced with an opponent who may mean you harm?" he asked.
"Run away?"
He arched an eyebrow at her.
With a blinding smile, she turned on her delicate little heels and ran. He gave her a moment's head start, and then with a sharp laugh, he took after her. He had to give her credit, she was fast, dashing this way and that across the sand. Billy was glad he'd left his boots off as his bare feet gave him a bit more traction as he chased after. Her long braid streamed after her as she laughed and dodged his outstretched arms. However, the fact remained that he was bigger and had more reach and soon enough, he closed in on her. He wrapped an arm around her middle and pulled her close, her back to his chest, her feet off the ground. She shrieked and laughed as her legs kicked in the air.
"Concede?" he asked laughing as he spun her.
"Never!" she shouted batting at his arm around her waist.
He tsk'ed and swept his other arm under her legs, and walked towards the surf, with her secure in his arms. She stilled and then wriggled.
"You wouldn't dare!" she said, still laughing, as her hands clutched at his shirt. "Billy!"
"Say you're sorry and I'll put you down," he said walking into the surf. She kicked her legs as a wave broke over them both and Billy carried on until the water swirled around his thighs. He looked down at her and gauged her reaction. Had he taken things too far? Was she all right? But she just lifted that little chin of hers, arched her eyebrows at him, and remained silent, essentially daring him to carry out his threat.
"Say you're sorry," he said.
She pressed her lips together, not hiding her smile at all. He tossed her up in the air a little and caught her before she fell into the water.
Shrieking and laughing, she said, "No! No, no, all right!"
He cradled her close and grinned down at her. "Let's hear it, then."
She took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry…that's you're such an incredibly poor loser."
His jaw dropped in the face of her unrepentant grin.
"Right," he said. "You asked for it."
With a smooth flex of his arms, he tossed Abigail into the water. He had a moment of panic directly after he did so when she flailed in the water, but she soon found her feet and glared at him, her skirts and hair wet. He couldn't help it, and he laughed. He laughed like he hadn't laughed in years. But his laugh was rudely cut off when a splash of seawater caught him in the face.
He stared at her where she was poised to send another wave his way. He cocked his head to the side, nodded…and then they were off.
Billy had the advantage of producing larger waves, but Abigail held her own and soon they were practically doubled over, laughing and utterly drenched. Billy's heart pounded with a lightness he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before. It was play. He was playing. When had he last let go of his worries and doubts and just…played? Abigail's laughter was bright and genuine as she ducked in and out of his reach in the surf. Her smile spread across her face and her eyes sparkled like sunlight reflecting off the water and he had to touch her.
He reached out and caught her up in his arms, both of them still laughing. She grabbed onto his shoulders as he pulled her close to his chest, holding her up so that just her legs were submerged in the surf. Her face hovered just above his and she smiled down at him; he tightened his hold on her, his arm just below the curve of her bottom.
"Concede, Miss Ashe?" he asked panting.
"Never, Mr Bones," she replied, just as breathless.
He chuckled, and his gaze was arrested by a drop of seawater that trailed along the side of her face, over the curve of her cheek, and then down her throat. Without thought, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to the droplet, his tongue darted out to taste the saltwater on her skin.
"Oh," she said and her skin vibrated under his tongue.
Startled into lucidity, he jerked his head back and looked at her. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes glazed as she stared down at him.
"Abigail," he said hoarsely. "I'm… We can't-"
His words were stopped by her mouth on his and God help him, he didn't hesitate to kiss her back, deeply and thoroughly. Her lips parted at the touch of his tongue and he moaned as she tentatively slid her tongue along his. He tightened his hold on her hips and with his other hand, he caressed the side of her face, the length of her heavy braid, the softness of her throat.
He plundered her mouth with an abandon that she met with a fierceness of her own. His hand smoothed over her back and sides, up to cup her breast. Her stays had come undone during their play and when he glanced down, he could glimpse a pale pink nipple through her wet chemise. His thumb lightly brushed over it.
"Oh," she said, tearing her mouth from his as her head titled back. "Oh, please?"
"Yes," he said against her throat as he licked at her pulse and his thumb brushed over her nipple again and again. Her hands held his head and her nails scratched wonderfully against his scalp.
A tall wave broke over them both and Billy stumbled. He lifted his head and stilled his hand on her breast.
"Christ," he said. "Abigail, this is madness. We can't—"
"What would you do?" she asked as she cupped his face, her thumbs resting on his cheekbones.
"What?" he asked, dazed by her sudden question.
"If you were…free to care for me," she said, her eyes wide and her voice firm. "If you could do anything you wanted to. If the war was over and you were a free man; what would you do? With me?"
He stared at her, the taste of her mouth and her skin still fresh on his tongue, and he entertained the idea of being completely free to have her. To have her to talk to, to work with, to care for. To have her by his side and in his bed.
With a groan that came out like a growl, he swept her up, once again, into his arms and as he carried her to the shore, he pressed a bruising kiss to her mouth that she eagerly returned, before he said, "What would I do if I was free to care for you? I'll show you what I'd fucking do."
to be continued….(soon!)
