Chapter 5

A/N: My longest chapter to date, so yippee!!! FYI: the PG-13 rating comes into effect for some minor swear words, so you have been warned. Also, the rating will be going up to R, I promise, but it just won't be for a while. As much as I would love to, I can't bring myself to just throw these two into bed, so sorry about the wait for lemon. But there is a bit of a kiss in this one!!! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you are great! Please keep it up, I LIVE FOR FEEDBACK, positive or negative, so long as it's constructive! Thanks again and enjoy : )

Emaline woke with a start, her head throbbing quite painfully. Her vision was blurry at best, and her brains felt as though they were made of lumpy porridge. She had taken a spill, that much was certain, but she was at loss as to where she was. Racking her brains, she came up with a fuzzy image of walking arm and arm into a building with Peter Wyndham, accompanied by Capt. Foster and his men. But if she had, then why were they not above her, anxiously waiting for her to recover? Puzzled, Emaline moved to sit op, tenderly putting more weight onto her slender arms. A soft moan escaped her lips, as a sudden and painful rush of blood went to her head.

"Oh, Lord…" she murmured, before a strange hand came out from behind her back and closed harshly over her mouth. Extremely frightened, Emaline thrashed her arms and screamed, a truly blood-curling sound that could have been easily distinguished from more than a mile away had it not been muffled. Whoever held her mouth shook her roughly, and hissed into her ear.

"Quiet, lass. You'll not be doing that again if you want to go on living." Emaline's eyes went huge, but she stopped struggling. It was a man's voice that had spoken to her, but then, she'd already assumed as much by the roughly calloused hand that was smashed painfully against her lips. Her fear was paralyzing and she felt as though a large boulder had been dropped into her stomach, but the shock seemed to have cleared up her eyes. Looking around desperately for help, Emaline took in the scene before her for the first time.

It was a massacre. Bodies were strewn about, and blood ran in rivers along the floor. The color red was everywhere, for along with the deep red of coagulating blood was the vibrant crimson of officer uniforms. Across the room, far away from the darkened corner she occupied, stood two men. They were guzzling rum and laughing, spewing the amber liquid all over the corpses on the ground. Bile rose up into her throat, and she clutched her stomach, preparing to retch all over the floor and praying that the man behind her would release her mouth. As she looked down, her breathing stopped, as she looked into the face of Peter Wyndham. His skin was pale, his eyes closed, and a great gash ran across his forehead, though his matted blond hair obscured it. He looked dead, and Emaline felt a vice go around her heart. Terrified at what she was sure to find, she forced herself to look at his chest. Barely, just barely, it expanded under her gaze, and then went back to its former size. Her heart soared. Peter was alive! She leaned forward, hand extended as though she meant to touch him, but she was pulled roughly back.

"Leave him, girl. You can do nothing for him." There was the voice again, but it was softer and less frightening this time. "Listen to me very carefully. I'm going to try to get you away from here, but you must do exactly as I say. There is a door about ten feet from here; that is our goal. The both of us are going to walk over to it, as close to the wall as possible. I will keep my hand over your mouth, but you must not struggle. If they hear us, it will be the end of you."

Emaline nodded. She had no choice but trust this man, whoever he was. Slowly, they started walking. Each step took an eternity, and even the slightest sound made her heart lurch with agony. Finally, they reached the door, and the man turned the handle. CREAK!!!! The handle practically screamed under the pressure, and the two men's heads whipped around. Wasting no time, her rescuer pushed her through the door, even as the other men came running, pistols firing bullets that whipped by their heads. The man broke into a run, and dragged Emaline along with him. She kept up for a moment, but her corset would not allow her to breath, and she began to lag behind. Without even breaking his stride, the man scooped her up into his arms. The scenery flew by, as her savior serpentined through alleyways with almost inhuman speed.

Finally convinced that they'd lost them, the man began to slow his pace. He stopped abruptly and unceremoniously dropped Emaline to the ground. Leaning against wall, he threw a hand over his chest and breathed deeply, arching his back. Emaline looked at her savior with disbelief. The man who had rescued her was none other than Capt. Jack Sparrow, the pirate whom Capt. Foster had been speaking with earlier in the evening. She was so confused, the emotional shock of the evening was wearing off, and her head was swimming with images and feelings that she could not place. At the moment, Emaline felt torn between being thankful for her rescue and disgusted that such filth had deigned himself worthy to touch her, let alone carry her in his arms. Frustrated with her situation and emotionally shattered, she did the only thing she could think to do. She screamed.

Jack was on her in a second, trying to force his hand over her mouth to stop the ungodly sound. But Emaline was in the throws of a tantrum, and she clawed and bit and kicked at him until his hands bled. He was at loss as to what to do. The eyes of many a pirate were on them now, and he could not fight them all off if they choose to "relieve" him of the girl. They would kill him for sure, and then the chit would be lost to the Gullahs. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. Grabbing both of her hands and forcing them to the wall, Jack covered her mouth with his own.

Her screaming ceased immediately, and he actually felt a ripple of shock go through her. She stood completely still, not even attempting to push him off. "Probably too horrified to do anything," he thought. "I'll give it a second, she'll come to her senses soon enough." And he was right. As if she'd just woken up from a terrible dream, Emaline thrashed against him with all her might. It did her little good, Jack just held her tighter, but she did manage to poke him the ribs a couple of times with the whalebones in her corset. "Christ, all this and me not even kissing her properly. Stupid bint, God knows what I'd be in for if I stuck my tongue into her mouth." Actually, the idea was quite appealing, what with the way she was thrusting against him and all. If she kept that up, she was likely to get, not to mention feel, a lot more of him than she bargained for.

Belatedly, Jack realized that his "kiss" had accomplished its purpose. The Gullahs had let them be, keeping to the unspoken rule that no pirate had any right to interfere with a man while he was in the throws of passion. A tad bit reluctant to stop to all her writhing beneath him, he held her lips a little longer than absolutely necessary before releasing her. A kick to the groin was swift to follow.

"You pretentious pig, you vile, loathsome, dis-gusting creature!" Emaline exploded as he double over and fell to the ground. "How dare you touch me?! How dare you defile my pure person with your foul mouth?! I will have you hanged for this, I swear to high heaven I will have you hanged, and I will relish your death!"

On his feet, though still tenderly cupping himself, Jack simply smiled at her. "Hush, lass. You're embarrassing me with all your bad language. Wouldn't want anyone to think that I've gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd, if you catch my meaning."

That shut her up, but the looks she was shooting at him were pure venom. God, how he hated Foster. The bastard had tricked him into this, damn him, and now he had a prissy creampuff to look after. How perfectly peachy. He looked to Emaline, who was still fuming and about as red as a ripe tomato.

"Here's the deal, girl. As of right now, you're precious captain Foster is nowhere to be found, and your little fruitcake is likely dead. By morning, these pirates will have weeded out every officer on the island, and will have taken anybody else captive. You have exactly two choices. A, you come quietly with me to my ship and I take you to closest safe port, or B, you stay here and let the Gullah's have their way with you. Either way, you're stuck trusting pirates. Although," Jack paused here, and blatantly looked her body up and down, "the Gullah's might treat you a bit better than the average whore, on account of the fact that you've obviously got good blood. But then again, most pirates don't care much for blood, except when it be spilling out of a body."

Oh, God in Heaven. How on earth was she supposed to make such a choice? Emaline could barely believe that all of this was actually happening, how could she possibly be expected to choose which group of pirates got to kill her? True, Capt. Sparrow was making it sound as though he would do no such thing, but that was because he wanted her to go with him, and was thus manipulating the situation to his benefit. Consequently, she could not trust what seemed to be his obvious opinion of the matter. And if she came right down to it, she was actually less inclined to go with him than to stay here, what with the way he had already violated her. But then again, she had heard atrocious stories about Gullah pirates.

Trying to avoid having to answer, Emaline asked him a question instead. "Why are you helping me? Why did you go through all the trouble to save me, when you could have been killed in the process? Truly, I see no advantage in it for you."

"Must there always be an advantage?" he asked wearily.

"Of course. You are a pirate, after all," she replied with conviction.

"Yes, I suppose that is true." Jack said after a moment. "But in any case, I cannot tell you why I'm helping you, only that I am, and you may do what you will with that.

"But why can you not tell me?" she practically whined, frustrated beyond belief.

"I'm surprised at you, lass. You seem to know so much about pirates, and yet you can't seem to figure this out. Well, I'll give you a hint--because that would be telling, and pirates never tell."

"You're insufferable," she spat furiously at him.

"Make your decision."

She was silent for what seemed like an eternity, and Jack was getting a bit edgy. It was getting late, and the sooner he got her to the ship, the sooner they could leave. Finally, Emaline spoke.

"I shall go with you. Capt. Foster seemed to trust you; therefore, so will I. I only hope he was as excellent a judge of character as his men believed him to be."

"I wise decision, lass." Jack nodded to her. "So I take it you know who I am, then?"

"How could I forget that introduction?" It was not a compliment. "You're Capt. Jack Sparrow, one of the most notorious, and frankly, rotten-smelling pirates to have ever cursed the planet."

Jack grinned like a Cheshire cat, showing all of his teeth. "Don't start complimenting me, or I might actually think you liked that kiss I gave you. Care for another go, sweet Emaline?"

"Why, you…" she started, surprised at how easily this man had turned her from a docile creature to vicious cat in less than an hour.

"Pig," Jack finished for her. "Yes, I know. Now, shall we be on our way, Ms. Darcy?" He gallantly held out his arm, but she refused it with a sniff of her nose. Feigning mock insult, he led the way, with Emaline close behind. She hadn't yet figured out that he knew her name, but he imagined that eventually she would hit it. Sure enough, her heard her voice in his ear, politer than he would have imagined it could be. Walking must have calmed her down a bit, and she seemed to have remembered her station.

"Begging your pardon, but how do you know my name?"

"It's like I said before, lass. That would be telling, and pirate's never tell."