Moonlight on the Caribbean

[A/N:  I'm not going to change the rating of this story, because I don't consider the scene explicit, but you should know that there is definite sexual content in this chapter.  If this offends you, please don't read it.]

Chapter Fifteen

A line of stony-faced men, brown, white, and black, stood like statues along the beach front as the H.M.S. Miranda approached the island.  Many were carrying spears; some had swords; a few—obviously former pirates—clutched pistols.  They spoke not a word, to each other or to the similarly solemn sailors onboard the naval vessel.  The tension hung thick among them.

"Commander, what would you have us do?" Rex inquired crisply, his eyes never leaving the grim men awaiting them.

Shawn's gaze traveled swiftly over them, searching for even one familiar face.  "Gather a dozen men.  We'll take a rowboat to shore."

The lieutenant tried to conceal his surprise.  "Sir, I must advise against this.  Who knows what those ruffians will attempt?  They look like they are capable of almost anything."

"I gave you an order, Evans," Shawn returned evenly.  He didn't need reminding of the danger of this expedition, but he needed to know if the Vengeance had been here.  He needed to know he was on the right track. 

Fifteen minutes later, he stood on the stretch of blinding white sand, glinting against the sun's light as he struggled to make out the features of the men before him.  His own men were positioned behind him, ready to fight at the slightest word from him.  Their eyes darted to and fro, and several of them reached nervously for their swords.  The island dwellers still had not moved.  Shawn began to wonder if they even blinked. 

"We're not here to cause you any trouble," he informed them loudly.  "We need to know if a pirate ship called the Vengeance has passed this way."

One of the rough-looking Englishmen chuckled.  "You could say that is has.  It's brought every single person on this island at some point or another."

Shawn winced.  He wasn't going to find any allies here.  The truth was before Belle was taken, he would have done everything in his power to protect Brady too.  He had believed in Blackheart's honor more than anyone.  He pushed thoughts of his deceitful friend out of his head and focused on the mission at hand—namely, to get out of here alive and with more information than when he came.  "None of you need fear.  You shall not be punished or removed in any way, but you must tell me if the Vengeance has stopped here recently."

"And why would yeh be needin' to know that, eh?" growled a crusty old sailor missing an arm.

"We have reason to believe Captain Blackheart and his crew recently boarded an English merchant vessel and took several captives, including ladies," Shawn returned.  His voice remained calm but laced with steel and all the arrogance only a British naval officer was entitled to.  He would not be intimidated by these outlaws.  "It is imperative for their safety that we locate the Vengeance as quickly as possible."

A man near the middle of the line snorted insolently and stepped forward.  "Those wenches are in less danger on Blackheart's ship than they would be on any other vessel in these waters—includin' yours, Commander Brady."

Shawn didn't allow his shock to register on his face at being addressed by his proper name.  He studied the burly man before him.  "Pardon me," he drawled, "but I don't believe I have the pleasure of your acquaintance."

The pirate made the same ridiculing noise and mocked a curtsy in the officer's direction.  "My, my, we do have manners.  Name's Winters, and until two days ago, I was a sailor aboard the Vengeance."

"Then, the ship did stop here?"  Not all the British diffidence in the world could keep the eagerness out of Shawn's question.

Winters sneered.  "No, I just swam."

Lieutenant Evans was more disturbed by the pirate's lack of respect than his commander.  He took several long strides forward, his hand on his sword hilt.  "You are addressing an officer in His Majesty's Royal Navy, sir.  Watch your tone."

His righteous indignation did nothing but earn laughter from several of the men along the shore and an irritated wave of dismissal from Shawn.  All he wanted was to get Winters' statement as quickly as possible, so they could be on their way.  The trail was hot now. 

"Lord Black and the ladies, are they unharmed?"

The pirate turned back to him, his eyes showing grudging respect.  "Not a mark on 'em.  Cap'n gave orders not to touch 'em, and Masters don' let a thing get by him."  He grimaced, remembering his late-night encounter with the maid and the first mate. 

Shawn breathed a sigh of relief.  His Belle was all right.  "Which way were they headed?"

Winters gestured along the horizon.  "Due West.  Cap'n was gonna stop off at another island, 'til you caught up to him."

"Then, I was right.  He wants to get caught."  Shawn frowned as the pirate nodded.  "But why?"

"Reckon you'd have to ask him that, wouldn' you?" he shrugged. 

Realizing the blackguard wasn't going to volunteer information unasked, Shawn decided to pursue the interrogation more aggressively.  "So why are you here if your ship is not?"

"Night 'fore they left, we found out you was on our tail.  Cap'n made a speech, said how we wasn' gonna fight the British navy, and how we'd all be taken and hanged.  Told anyone who wanted to stay alive to stay righ' here on the island."

Shawn winced.  What suicide mission was Brady intent upon?  He felt some of his anger melt away in the face of his friend's gesture.  This all seemed so senseless.  "How many stayed?"

"Not a one," Winters replied, his already barrel-sized chest puffing out further in pride.  "I only stayed because Cap'n wanted someone to stay behind and tell you where they went."

Rex stepped forward again.  "I don't like this, Commander.  How can we take the word of a pirate?  He could be leading us into an ambush."

Winters spat at the ground by the taller man's feet, showing clearer than words ever could what he thought of the lieutenant's interference.  "A pirate's word is as good as any man's, and better than some."

A bitter smile crossed Shawn's face.  He had trusted Brady's honor.  When the Dolphin was taken, that faith had been destroyed.  How was he supposed to get it back now?  Yet what other choice did he have?

~~*~~

The sway of the ship when at rest was quite different from the pounding it experienced when cutting its way through the waves.  When still, the rhythm took on a lulling quality, reminiscent of a rocking chair at home.  When John closed his eyes, that image never failed to appear to him; Isabella rocking the baby to sleep, a gentle song upon her lips.  It was a soothing, reassuring memory, and he felt at peace anchored off the coast of a small island he had not even seen, waiting patiently for this adventure to be at an end.

He knew he was alone in this emotion.  Everyone around him was in an highly agitated state.  Belle could hardly contain her excitement when she had come to visit her father the night before.  She was about to see Shawn again, and she was walking on air.  But she was the only one.  The pirates were uncharacteristically quiet.  Blackheart, Masters, and Lambert all had the hopeless faces of condemned men when they took their shifts and sat with him as though nothing had changed.

Worst to see, however, were Chloe and Mimi.  Their features grew more desolate, their faces paler every time he saw them.  Red eyes and dark circles under them stood as testimony to the tears they never let anyone see fall and the sleepless nights spent all alone.  It was taking everything they had in them, but they refused to let their weakness show.

But their faces weren't the ones that invaded John's dreams.  Isabella's was, and he was comforted.  He rubbed a hand down his face as the early morning light penetrated his cell.  Blinking his eyes open, he slowly stretched out on the thin cot.  His neck was sore, not a new feeling, but one he tried to ignore.

"Good morning, Your Lordship."

John hid the smile that crossed his visage as he heard the now-familiar deep tones.  Leisurely, he rose to a sitting position, swinging his feet onto the ground.  "Morning, son," he mumbled sleepily.

A sharp intake of breath followed by absolute silence greeted his absent-minded response.  John finally settled his gaze on the masked pirate.  Nothing was discernable from the captain's expression, but his shoulders underneath the loose, white, draw-stringed shirt were tense; his jaw was set tightly.  Silence reigned.  The viscount was hesitant to do or say anything, curious to see what the boy would make of his slip of the tongue.  For now, he was content to merely meet the piercing blue eyes so like his own.

"Are you hungry this morning, Your Lordship?" escaped the captor's lips, through gritted teeth.  He too seemed unsure what to make of the situation, perhaps wondering if the thoughtless comment meant anything.

John shook his head.  "No, not yet.  Any sight of the navy?"

"I don't expect Shawn until tomorrow morning.  They should be arriving at the settlement today, and we traveled for a day before we stopped here."  The captain tried to make his words casual, but that searching expression had not yet left him.

Lord Black nodded thoughtfully.  "And then you and your crew will be taken and hanged…."

Blackheart frowned at his leading tone.  "Yes…" he returned, equally evasive.

"For kidnapping us from the Dolphin?"

"And taking the El Diablo, don't forget," was the sardonic reply.  "You give yourself entirely too much credit, Your Lordship.  I was a wanted man long before you came into the picture."

"Ah, that's right," John continued, still in that laidback, distracted tone.  It was beginning to annoy his counterpart as shown by the pirate's increasingly restless state.  He was actually enjoying watching the younger man squirm.  He dragged it out as long as possible, before coming to the point.  "What was it you said to me my first day on board, Captain?  Something about finding out what Spain truly does and reporting back to the King, I believe.  You asked me to talk to the men, to see the results of the Inquisition.  I have done that, you know.  I learned even more by talking to the freed slaves on that island.  So in essence, you fulfilled a vital task for His Majesty's government, by bringing his ambassador safely to naval escort."

The frown on Blackheart's face only deepened, as he raised his voice to object.  "You and I both know that's not what I did.  I—"

"As I shall bring to Commander Brady's attention," John continued, as though he had never been interrupted.  "I shall bring it to King Charles himself, if I have to.  I do have an audience with him, you know, expressly upon my return to England.  He wants me to render my opinion on the wisdom of war with Spain in the West Indies.  I intend to tell him that, from all I have seen, England would be doing a great moral wrong by continuing to turn our back on these atrocities.  I intend to advise him on the necessity of bringing Spanish influence on the Main to an end.  I shall advise him to go to war, beginning by chartering the buccaneers and pirates to fight for us."

Nothing could have hidden the look of delight that flittered across the pirate's countenance.  It was what he had hoped and prayed for since he sent those papers with Shawn to the Admiralty.  Perhaps his life—and the loss of it—would come to something good after all.  "I'm pleased to hear it, Your Lordship.  Others will be as well."

"Yes, I imagine they will."  John gave his son another scrutinizing look.  "Of course, we'll need the very best of your lot, those that know these waters, the Spanish methods and movements.  It won't be an easy task.  Someone with your expertise would be invaluable."

The pirate was visibly shaken by his words.  "Are you implying that you intend to intercede on my behalf, sir?"

"I would hardly be a gentleman if I did not, Captain," John responded, trying to keep the smile from his face and failing miserably.  "You have kept us safe all these weeks.  You are bringing us into the custody of my daughter's fiancé—despite the fact that it could presumably lead to your demise.  I think that shows extraordinary character and should be rewarded.  I shall say so to the King.  I have no intention of letting you or your men hang because of me."

A look of awe and relief passed over the younger man's face, and the burden he'd been struggling under for weeks was lifted.  "Why would you do that…for me?" he asked, once he was sure he could speak with a steady voice.

There was a long pause as John tried to discern how best to proceed.  He cleared his throat nervously before beginning, never letting his gaze waver.  "I sense something in you, something that reminds me of myself when I was younger.  Beyond that, you remind me of someone I lost once."  The younger man paled but could not bring himself to respond.  John tried a different tactic.  "Your mother…you never did tell me…what was her name?"

Blackheart choked.  He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.  He shut it, took a deep breath, and then tried again.  "Why…what…?"  His eyes collided with his father's, and suddenly, he knew.  "You know, don't you?"

It took all of John's willpower to keep a calm demeanor as he softly repeated the question.  "What was her name, son?"

The words they had both been waiting for poured forth from Brady's lips.  "Isabella.  Isabella Tuscano…Black."

A profound silence fell over them.  John stood, though feeling his legs could never support him.  His eyes stung with unshed tears, which he did not even try to blink away.  His eyes devoured the strong man standing before him.  "Brady," he breathed finally, his lips forming the word of the son he had given up for dead.  "Brady, my boy…"

In another moment, the iron of the cell bars would have been unlocked. In another moment, Father and Son would have been able to embrace.  In another moment, the pain of twenty years could have been wiped away.  But still, fate could not be kind.  Kevin's familiar knock sounded on the door as he arrived to take his guard shift.  Brady stood frozen for a moment, unsure what to do, but John merely jerked his head towards the door, and he obeyed, opening the hatch to admit his second mate.

Kevin merely grunted a greeting and took his accustomed seat across from the cell, kicking his feet up in order to get more comfortable for his prolonged nap.  Brady remained for several long moments, simply staring at his father.  Finally, John grinned at him, and he felt an answering smile light up his face.

"Only one day before the navy arrives, eh?" John commented speculatively, his eyes traveling to the small porthole.  "Seems a pity to waste it on this dusty old boat.  Aren't we off the coast of some island?  I imagine the girls wouldn't mind an outing, and I believe you have some news to tell them."  Still, Brady hesitated a moment, drinking in the sight of a father who loved him, who had never forgotten.  "Go on.  Chloe's been miserable long enough."

The mention of Chloe did the trick.  Brady was snapped back to reality, and with one quick nod to his father, he left the room.  Abandoning the deserted lower level, Brady practically flew up the ladders until he reached the deck.  The mood among his crew was definitely subdued, but he didn't feel like making the big announcement yet.  They would find out they were spared only when it was an accomplished fact.  No point in raising their hopes for nothing.  For himself, no amount of reason could keep him down.  He was going to live!  He was going to live, and love, and have a family.

He hastily searched the deck for his first mate, finding him looking out of the crow's nest.  Since they had left the village two days before, his eyes had rarely left the water they'd traversed.  He was waiting, wanting to be the first to spot the naval vessel.  Brady grinned.  Shawn was no object of fear anymore, not with his father on his side.  He cupped both hands around his mouth, and hollered, "Oi!  Jase, get down here!  Have I got some news for you!"

~~*~~

Belle was doing her best to stay calm and appear miserable for her friends' sakes.  Honestly, it wasn't difficult.  Every time she looked at Chloe's or Mimi's face, she felt a pang of guilt deep inside her for looking forward to the event which was bringing them so much pain.  They didn't ask her for pity though.  They didn't seem to want it.  In fact, they avoided all mention of the upcoming capture.  Whenever Belle mentioned Shawn, they both forced polite, fake smiles on their faces and said not a word in protest.  She had occasionally noticed one or the other leave the room for an extended period of time and come back with very red eyes, but not once did they grieve in front of her.

She admired their courage, even if she could not understand it.  If she knew Shawn was going to meet his death, she would be screaming and crying, begging him not to leave her.  Belle had seen no traces of that.  If they happened to be in a room with Brady or Jason, Chloe and Mimi stayed near their loved one, but not one word was spoken to reveal the inner anguish they must be going through.

Finally, she had had enough.  This tense silence was worse by far than any amount of wailing her friends might do.  At least if they would cry, she could comfort them.  How could she sympathize with a pain they refused to show?  "Would one of you please say something?" she burst out in the middle of the quiet cabin.

Chloe, Mimi, and Jan all looked up at her in confusion.  Mimi and Jan were sewing—more for an occupation than any real merit from it.  Chloe was absently turning over the pages in the solitary book aboard ship. She'd already read it five times, out of sheer boredom.  "What would you have us say?" she remarked calmly, setting the volume down.

"Something!  Anything!" Belle ranted, from her position on the cot.  "Scream at me for being happy.  Cry for tomorrow.  Something!"

"What's the point of crying over something that hasn't happened yet?" Mimi returned, her composure completely unruffled.  She kept on with her needlework, involving some of the lace she'd removed from the Spanish dresses. 

Belle's astonishment must have shown on her face, for Chloe chuckled at her.  It was far from her usual joy-filled laugh; it had in it the damper of experience.  "Shut your mouth, Belle; it's unladylike," she echoed Belle's oft-spoken words back at her.

"How can you both be so calm about this?  I mean, I know we've never said it in words, but I know…"  She looked pointedly at Mimi, the memory of that night still fresh in her mind.

Mimi flushed, but her glance was warning as she turned her eyes from Belle to Jan and back again.  It was then Belle noticed how much attention the other maid was paying to their discussion.  She blushed, realizing what she was thoughtlessly exposing her friends to.  They didn't want Jan to know.  She could hardly blame them.  They knew nothing about that girl, really, and none of them felt like she was one of them.

"Oh," Belle breathed, as silence once more descended over the room.

It didn't last long, before it was broken again.  This time, the culprit was a man knocking on the door.  Mimi opened the door, and the two men in their thoughts entered.  Belle watched her friends' reactions as an impartial observer.  Mimi immediately sought out Jason's eyes, and he smiled reassuringly at her.  He squeezed her hand as they entered.  The captain, meanwhile, had winked none-too-subtly at Chloe, causing her to blush and smile.  And they had been upset with Belle!  Those two were so transparent it wasn't even funny.

"We've come to invite you all on a trip to the island.  We might as well enjoy our last day of freedom," Blackheart began, his eyes finally leaving Chloe to wander over all four women, settling fondly on Belle.

Belle thought they seemed rather flippant for men about to die.  There was something almost sarcastic in his words.  She couldn't focus on that, however, as the others all seemed to be looking to her to decide matters.  Part of her wanted desperately to escape the confines of the cabin, but as she surveyed the four lovers around her, she understood the one thing she could do for them.  She could give them this last day.  She could forget about all the rules of social order and give them one last day.  "Actually, I'm feeling rather tired.  I think I might still be suffering the aftereffects of my illness.  I would rather stay here, if that's all right with everyone."

Mimi's face immediately fell as she rushed to Belle's side.  "You never said a word about being ill," she scolded, her hand feeling her mistress's head for signs of fever.  "What do you need?  Would you like some water, my lady?"

Belle swatted her hand away.  "I'm fine.  I just need some peace and quiet.  I think you should go to the island, Chloe as well.  Jan can stay here with me.  She is perfectly capable of attending me should anything happen."  Jan looked disgruntled at being denied the outing but, for once, kept her mouth shut. 

"Yes, Mimi, let's go," Chloe pleaded, her eyes settled firmly on Blackheart's masked face, her brow creasing in confusion.  She could tell he was keeping something from her.

Mimi studied her lady thoroughly, but Belle held up admirably well under the scrutiny.  She sat angelically still and pious.  Finally, the maid turned her head to Jason, and it was all decided.  A nod and a smile were all the answer the others needed.  Belle grinned as the four said their goodbyes and left.  No conflicting emotions tortured her.  She refused to contemplate the words her vicar would have if he could see what she had done.  As the sounds of the happy party receded into the distance, Belle turned her attention to her one remaining companion.  She sighed as Jan picked up Chloe's discarded book.  It was going to be a long day.

~~*~~

By mutual consent, the foursome separated as soon as they reached the island.  Blackheart and Chloe headed off into the thick, lush greenery, while Jason took Mimi's hand to lead her along the coast.  Mimi sighed blissfully as she surveyed the foreign scenery.  Even though they were walking along a tropical beach, it could not have presented a greater contrast to the one they had left only two days before.  She had always pictured islands to have those golden sandy beaches and tropical forests.  The shore she walked upon now was black and gritty.  The vegetation was interspersed with rocky crags and abrupt cliffs.  Not another soul was to be seen.

"It's a strange place," she commented, almost absently, as they rounded a bend and lost view of the ship.  "It seems…sad somehow."

Jason turned his head to look at her curiously, but then he fastened his gaze on the towering mountain to their right and explained, "It's a volcanic island.  That's the reason it's uninhabited and the sands are so black."

"Volcanic?" Mimi repeated, her brow wrinkling in confusion.

The pirate laughed.  "That's right.  You wouldn't know, would you?  How can I explain this?  A volcano is a mountain with a hole at the top that spews fire and ash.  This island was formed like that."

Mimi's eyes widened with fear, as she gazed upon the ominous mountain.  "Will it…go off while we're here?"

His arm wrapped around her, giving her a comforting squeeze.  "Not likely.  According to the natives, it hasn't exploded in over a hundred years.  The island is still feared though.  They think evil spirits live here, and that's what causes the mountains to shoot fire."

"I can certainly see why," she muttered.  "It has a bad air around it."

Jason studied her with concern.  "You're not worried, are you?"

She stopped walking and turned to look at him.  "How could I be?" she replied softly.  "You're here with me."  Stepping on her tiptoes, Mimi lifted her face to kiss him gently.  The moment she felt his soft lips pressing against her own, she knew the kiss could not stay a chaste expression of affection.  There lived inside of her a great need for his touch, for his caress.  She brought her body closer to his, her hands reaching under his loose white shirt to feel the sleek muscle beneath.  His arms wrapped around her, and she smiled against his lips.

He pulled away, smiling back.  "Well, this bad air seems to have a good effect on you," he teased.

"You have a good effect on me," Mimi returned seriously, threading her fingers through his short blonde hair, curling the hairs on his neck. 

 "I do, don't I?" Jason shot back, before lowering his mouth to hers again. 

There was no bliss in the world like this, Mimi was absolutely certain.  Standing on a beach, the sound of the crashing waves in her ears, the tickle of sand between her toes, and Jason's lips moving smoothly over hers as though born to do it.  This was heaven.  She could wish for no more than this for the rest of her life.  Even as Jason began to deepen the kiss, her thoughts started turning darker, towards the reality that this wouldn't last the rest of her life…this wouldn't even last beyond today.

She clung to him desperately as worries she had been pushing away for days came crowding back.  Her hands dug into his skull, as she forced her tongue through the barrier of his lips and sought to memorize every last inch of his mouth.  He was hers.  She had to know he was hers.  She had to let him know that she was his.  Jason seemed surprised, but not displeased, by her ferocity, quickly giving as good as he got. 

Even while kissing, Mimi began to drag him down on the sand with her.  She was grateful she had once again worn the dress the native women had given her, grateful there were so few layers of clothing between them, so that she could feel the outline of Jason's body as he settled against her.  His lips left hers to travel down her throat and into her neck, gently nibbling at the sensitive skin as she arched into him. 

Her hands reached once again for his shirt, this time bringing it over his head.  Jason had to abandon his task for a moment to allow the garment to be removed, but no sooner was it gone than he found a new target, moving his ministrations to the valley between her breasts, teasing her by avoiding the places where she wanted most to be touched. 

"Jason," she moaned in protest, before deciding to take matters into her own hands, flipping him onto his back and trailing greedy hands and lips along the muscles of his chest and abdomen.  The groan she received from him brought a wicked smile to her lips. 

She raised her head to look at him.  "You should know better than to play games with me," she threatened.

Something in her words brought Jason back to his senses.  He forced himself to sit up and lift her with him.  "Mimi, we have to stop.  There's something I have to tell you."

Mimi frowned.  "What's the matter?  Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no, definitely no."  Mimi was assured by the look of arousal she saw in his eyes and by the lingering kiss he gave her.  "This is good news, actually.  Blackheart told me that Lord Black is going to do everything he can to interfere on our behalf.  He's going to help us, Mimi.  We aren't going to hang."

A grin was not nearly enough to express Mimi's joy.  She threw her arms around his neck and showered him with kisses.  "How could you not have told me before?"

Jason chuckled.  "I was going to, but I got a little…uh, distracted."

Mimi flushed but didn't pull away from him.  Rather, she settled herself, straddling his lap.  "I can be very good at distraction," she murmured, dipping her head to nip at his earlobe.

To his credit, Jason only succumbed to her touch for a moment, before forcing her away.  "No, Mimi.  There's a reason I told you that before things went any farther."  Her confusion was evident on her face.  Jason sighed.  This wasn't going to be easy.  "Mimi, I remember what you told me about…about your mother."

Immediately, a mask of anger descended over the young woman's face.  She pushed out of his arms and to her feet.  "I don't want to talk about her," she gritted out, turning to walk away.

Jason had quicker reflexes and was able to get to his feet and stop her before she'd taken more than a few steps.  "We need to talk about her, Mimi." 

She pulled out of his reach, green eyes sparking defiance up at him.  "Why?  She has nothing to do with us.  I shut her out of my life a long time ago."

"You can't shut your memories away," Jason argued, matching her anger with his own determination.  "Believe me, I know that more than anyone.  That's what I tried to do for years until you made me open up.  Remember?"  She opened her mouth to protest, but he went on, unheeding.  "I'm not going to make you tell me anymore about her, if that's what you're worried about.  I'm talking about what you've already told me.  You told me she started out as just a girl in love with a sailor, remember that?  You told me that you were never going to let yourself be like her."

"So you're saying I am like her?" Mimi shot back, rage coming out of her in palpable waves.  "That's what you think?  I'm a whore just like her."

"No, no, that's not what I think at all," the pirate responded quickly but calmly, taking hold of her arms with soft, firm hands and not allowing her to shake him off.  "Would you please let me finish before you yell at me anymore?"  Her eyes spoke volumes, but she nodded resentfully.  "Thank you.  Now, what I'm trying to say is this.  You're at a vulnerable place right now.  You've been through so much in the past few weeks that you were unprepared for.  This worry that you've had for me is making you not think straight.  When I thought I was going to die, I probably encouraged it."  Memories of the night on the island assaulted them both.  "I wanted to be with you, because I wanted you.  But now, I'm not going to be with you like that, because I love you."

His words were slowly sapping her of her anger, but not her confusion.  "I don't understand," she returned softly.

Jason's hands left her arms to cup her face.  "I know you don't.  I'm trying to explain."  He paused a moment, looking out to sea as he searched for words.  "Your father left your mother, and she was ruined because of it.  If we were together now, and something went wrong, and Lord Black couldn't save us—I said if," he rushed on, seeing her mutinous look.  "If he couldn't save us, I couldn't bear it if you were left behind to deal with the consequences on your own.  Whereas if he is successful, then you can keep your vow and your purity until you're married."

Mimi paled at his words.  Her eyes widened, and she wondered for a moment if she was going to faint.  "Are you saying…?"

He smiled as his thumbs caressed her cheeks and his fingers pushed back stray curls the wind kept blowing into her face.  "I'm saying I love you, Miriam Lockhart.  I'm saying if I make it out of this mess alive, there is nothing I want more in this world than to make you my wife.  I want to marry you, if you'll have me."

Tears pooled in the girl's emerald eyes and slipped out unnoticed by her.  She was too busy repeating those words a thousand times in her head.  Jason merely waited in silence, his eyes boring holes into her with the heat of their stare.  "You…you want to marry me," she breathed finally.  It wasn't a question, merely an attempt to make herself believe the impossible.

"I know the life of a pirate's wife must not seem very appealing, but I don't have to stay a pirate, you know.  Blackheart and I own a plantation.  We could settle there, or on the island we visited, or anywhere in the world you wish.  I'll give you the world, nanichi."

"Nanichi?" she repeated, loving the way the word sounded on his lips.

"My heart," he translated, punctuating the words with a gentle kiss.  "My love."  He kissed her again, and she melted into his arms.  "My beloved."  He kissed her until she could barely breathe from the passion of it.

"Yes," was all she managed when their lips separated, their bodies still entwined.

Jason's eyes lit, but he still remained cool.  "Yes what?"

"Yes, Jason, I'll marry you."

~~*~~

Chloe could hear the songs of the birds singing in the canopy, and she wondered if they were trying to tell her something.  She almost felt like if she listened hard enough, she could understand their lyrics.  Though darker, it was hotter in the jungle than it was on the beach; the trees kept the humidity trapped inside.  She was grateful she had worn the thin, white dress the islanders had given her.  Even so, she was sweltering, and the sweat was causing her chemise—the only undergarment she was wearing—to stick to her skin. 

She looked miserable, walking through the jungle, her dress getting caught on branches, slapping irritably at the bugs which had the impudence to land on her soft skin.  Brady shouldn't have found her so attractive.  Yet the way her bronze skin was glinting, and the telling way her dress was clinging to her curves was affecting him more than he liked to admit.

He chose the wrong moment to smile though.  Chloe was angrily swatting at a mosquito which insisted on trying to bite her arm when she looked up and saw the longing look in his eyes.  She turned towards him angrily.  "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

The wise part of Brady's brain told him to answer that question was deadly.  She was already looking furious.  If he lied, she would know it.  To tell the truth was to insure his imminent demise.  Rather than answering, Brady cleared his throat and reached for her hand.  "Come on.  There's something I want to show you."

She watched him curiously but obediently followed him deeper into the bramble.  "You've been here before?"

Brady nodded, pausing to sweep several branches out of her way and earn a smile of gratitude.  He breathed a silent sigh of relief that her former annoyance was disappearing.  "When we were trying to find a place to bring our first rescued slaves to, we stopped here, but they refused to stay because of the volcano.  Something about evil spirits, I think."

"Evil insects, more like," Chloe mumbled, as several buzzing, flying pests decided to congregate around her head. 

"We'll take care of that in a moment," Brady promised, flicking them away for her.  He stopped suddenly, a thought occurring to him.  "I almost forgot to tell you, Chloe.  My father…well, he knows he's my father."

Chloe's eyes widened with shock.  She hardly knew what to say.  "But how…well, who…What happened?"

Brady chuckled.  "You're handling it about as well as I did.  It was a surreal experience, to say the least."  He proceeded to relate the entire conversation to her as they forced their way through the jungle hand in hand.  He thought the air would be squeezed out of him when he told her about Lord John promising to interfere on their behalf, and when he told about that moment before Kevin knocked, he thought he saw tears in her eyes.

"So what will happen now?" she asked, when he finally finished.

"I have no idea what will happen when we get back to the ship," Brady replied carefully, as he began to hear the telling sound of running water.  "But as for now, I think it's time for you to cool off."  No sooner had he finished speaking, than he pushed back one last cluster of green branches, and Chloe caught her breath at the sight before her.

Dark, volcanic rocks ringed an area that was a good ten degrees cooler than the forest surrounding it.  In the center, a deep pit—carved no doubt by the swift passage of lava in ages past—was filled with the most crystal clear water Chloe had ever seen.  She could make out the bottom from where she stood on a rock overlooking the edge.  But more beautiful even than the lake was the waterfall cascading down into it.  It ran along the rocks, at some places a mere trickle, at others a rushing river of water, casting the most majestic rainbow lights over the hideaway.  Soft green plants intermingled, sparsely growing on the rocks smoothed over by centuries of the water's cool touch.

"Oh, Brady, it's beautiful."  Chloe laid a hand to his chest, clutching at the material of his drawstring collar.  "I don't think I've ever seen anything quite this beautiful."

The pirate laughed.  "I didn't bring you here to gawk at it, my lady.  You were complaining of the heat, I believe.  I know you can't swim, but I know a trail down to the water's edge, where you can at least dip your feet."

Chloe raised an eyebrow at his confidence.  It wasn't out of place, she supposed.  She didn't know another English lady who knew how to swim, but she looked forward to proving him wrong.  Without comment, she ran right over the edge and jumped, disrupting the clear water with the splash of her landing.  The cold liquid soaked her skin, as she allowed herself to sink for several feet, before kicking up, losing her sandals as they fell to the bottom.  She grinned as she noticed Brady diving down past her while she floated up.  Probably thought he was going to save her, the idiot.  Her head broke the surface of the water, and she breathed deeply of the crisp air, laughing the moment she was able to.  She waited, treading water, for Brady to emerge a moment later. 

He was not nearly as amused as she was.  "That's not funny, Chloe," he lectured.  He had lost his mask in the dive, and beads of water were dripping off his blonde hair and landing on his soaked shirt.  He hadn't bothered to undress either, before jumping in after her.  "You could have drowned."

"No, you thought I could have drowned," she corrected him.  "I was perfectly safe in my knowledge that I can swim, and you learned a valuable lesson about making assumptions about people."

Brady tried not to let his amusement show at her prima donna attitude.  "You are so going to pay for that one."  He gave no warning before he lunged at her, splashing her with gallons of water.

Chloe let out a shriek and dived out of the way, swimming towards the relative safety of the waterfall, with only the occasional pause to pelt water backwards at him.  She was nearly there, to the rocks which climbed upwards to safety, when she felt his hand grab hold of her foot and pull her backwards.  Laughing, she struggled and got a mouthful of water for her pains. 

Brady didn't stop yanking on her foot until her face was floating on the water under his.  "What do you have to say for yourself now?"

Her reply was a display of childishness she had never expressed in all of her youth.  She spit water up at him.  It was his fault, after all, that she had swallowed some.  "Just that."

Brady groaned, letting go of her to use his hands to scoop clean water on his face.  "That was uncalled for."

"You're right," Chloe admitted, treading water next to him, instead of retreating again.  "In fact, so is this."  She brought her arm down hard upon the water and shot a wave of it over Brady.

"This means war, you know," he returned casually, before splashing her with more than equal force. 

Spewing, she returned fire, and the battle was begun.  Chloe had never known what it was to play before, and her giggles echoed all around them in the sunken lake.  She felt like she could have stayed there forever, living in joyous abandon.  She didn't even notice when she began to shiver.

Brady did, however.  He caught her arms mid-splash.  "All right, m'lady.  I think you're cold enough.  Time to dry off." 

She pouted like a little girl but obediently let him lead her up on the rocks by the waterfall's edge.  She was shivering in earnest now, her fingers and toes blue from cold.  Her waist-length hair seemed to have gained ten pounds of water weight and dripped ceaselessly down her dress and legs and onto the rocks beneath her feet.  If her clothes had clung to her before, they now seemed part of her themselves; every last inch of her was exposed to his view.

Brady turned away, not wanting to gawk at her.  Today had been such a marvelous day, the first worry-free day they had been gifted with in weeks.  He and Chloe had grown closer somehow, in engaging in such a silly activity.  It hardly seemed the time to be looking at her like that.  To distract himself, he walked to the rock's edge and stared down at the water, clearing his throat.

"You always do that, you know," she commented, taking him by surprise.

"Always do what?"  He refused to look at her, even as he responded to her comment.  He turned but stared somewhere in the general vicinity of her toes.

"Make that noise, clear your throat.  Whenever things start to get strained between us, that's what you do." 

He had never before realized how transparent he was to her.  She could see right through him.  What a frightening thought.  "No, I just…"  He looked back at the water.  "I realized we forgot my mask and your sandals.  I'll get them."

Chloe grabbed his arm before he could dive back into the water.  She jerked his head up, so he was forced to look straight at her, see the water trailing along her soft cheeks, the black velvety look of her wet hair, the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each breath she took.  "Get them later," she ordered, before pressing longing lips to his.  Their lips were still wet from the water, and Chloe soaked up the liquid with her tongue, dancing greedily along the outline of his full mouth. One hand remained positioned at his jaw, while the other wrapped tightly in his hair, pulling him closer to her.

Brady's body was betraying him, urging him to give in to her passion.  He forced himself to pull away, breathing heavily as he brought his hands down firmly on her shoulders.  "Chloe, we can't start this.  Not now, not today."

"Why?" she protested, her eyes sparking defiance.  "Because this time, there's nothing that's going to stop us?"

He was surprised at her understanding.  "Well…yes.  Chloe, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into, where this is leading us." 

"I know enough."  She was undeterred in her passion.  Lady Chloe Wesley had never had trouble identifying what she wanted, and she wanted him.  God, she wanted him.  Looking at him, standing there, his white shirt molding into his body, the rock-hard muscles of his torso well-defined, it was enough to make her knees start to crumble.  "You didn't want anything to happen when you thought you could die.  You aren't going to die, Brady."

"Which is why there's no need to rush this," Brady protested, before she could say anything more damaging to her virtue.

"You're right.  There is no reason on earth—no logical one, at any rate.  But I don't feel very logical right now.  Do you?"

She had no right to ask that question.  No right at all, as she stood there, soaking wet and shivering and beautiful and desirable.  The waterfall was spraying the lightest mist over their bodies, and Chloe was still glistening, as she had been all day.  The things just looking at her did to him were not right.  "Chloe, I—" He stopped short as her hands went to the hem of her dress and began to pull it up.  "Chloe, what are you doing?"

The dress was thrown to the ground, and she stood before him in only a very thin, very revealing chemise.  "Touch me, Brady," she pleaded, moving her body closer to his.  "Touch me the way you did that night on the ship."

If there was a man alive who could resist that goddess any longer, Brady didn't want to know him.  He had tried.  For a whole month of torturous hell, he had tried to stay in control, tried to stay away from her.  Control was no longer an option.  His lips took hers with devouring hunger, as his hand traveled down her arm and then up the side of her body, finally gently caressing the outline of her breast.

Chloe moaned against his lips, pressing herself even closer to him.  Brady's other hand buried itself in her hair, pulling her head back to allow himself better access to her mouth.  He plunged his tongue inside, each long, sultry stroke an initiation of what was to come.  The hand at her breast began to take greater liberties, cupping, engulfing, teasing, as she arched against him.

The lady was not an idle participant any longer.  Her hands found the bottom of his shirt and managed to slide her hands beneath, until she felt the warm, living flesh of his back against her fingertips, while the cold, wet material of his shirt clung to the back of her hands.  She molded her body to his and was shocked to feel the hardness against her thigh.  It sent shivers of warmth straight to the center of her.

His shirt was quickly discarded, and still he continued his dual assault against her mouth and breasts.  Soon, she found he knew how to make other places on her body feel just as magical.  He abandoned her kiss bruised lips to play with her earlobe, nuzzling the sensitive flesh.  She never imagined such a simple thing could feel like such heaven; her hands curled into his shoulders as her eyes closed. 

Pleased with the reaction, Brady retreated for only a moment, long enough for her to see his grin, before the exploration continued along her jaw, her throat, her neck.  He found her weak spot and gently grazed his teeth along it, causing her to shiver from something other than cold.  Trailing a line of kisses along her clavicle, he slowly made his way back to that wonderful curve where neck met shoulder and pulled the skin into his mouth.  Her knees collapsed, but his arms had taken the precaution of wrapping around her waist.  "Sensitive, m'lady?" he teased, abandoning his task to look into her eyes.

Sapphire eyes narrowed at his arrogant satisfaction.  "No more so than you, I'm sure, Captain."  With that, she began a similar investigation of his body, starting with the corners and hidden recesses of his mouth, chewing thoughtfully on his ear, fluttering kisses along his jawline, seeking out the curves of his shoulder and neck, and finally upping the stakes of the game by taking her mouth lower and hesitantly working the darkened skin of his nipples into arousal.  It was then she received the moan she had been looking for.

He pulled her up so suddenly she was unprepared, crushing her lips with bruising force against his, while his fingers worked free the buttons on her remaining garment, until it fell into a heap at her feet.  She stepped away and kicked it out of reach, his mouth still conquering hers relentlessly.  It was only when he pulled away and looked at her with unconcealed admiration in his eyes that Chloe felt a moment's hesitation.  Before embarrassment was allowed to claim her fully, his mouth had descended onto her breast, and she felt her whole body turn into liquid jelly.  Every nerve settled on the spot where their bodies were connected.  Even the hand settled upon her other breast failed to work this kind of magic, this sweet surrender of her utterly to his power.  If she had wondered how far she was really willing to take this, indecision fled with this forbidden pleasure.

She wasn't even thinking as her hands reached out for the small trail of hair at the base of his abdomen, lower, onto the clasp of his breeches.  He pulled her away, kissing her hand, as he looked again into her eyes.  "Not yet, my love," he murmured, his eyes promising that the time would soon come.  His lips brushed hers again, strangely gentle, before he knelt before her.  "Do you trust me, Chloe?"

Chloe nodded earnestly, not even bothering to ask what would happen next.  It didn't matter.  As long as he was here with her, making her feel this fire burning her up from the inside out, nothing could bother her.  At her permission, he kissed her belly, the soft, smooth skin of her abdomen.  Then, his hands gently parted her legs, lifting one over his shoulder, as his fingers sought her out.  Her eyes widened and a blush rose to her cheeks as she felt them rub against her, but then the surging, hot wetness found her, and it was all she could do to keep standing as he parted her folds and entered her. 

Without realizing it, her hips began to move along with the rhythm his fingers set for her.  He introduced her gently to the feel of skin on skin, and her quickened breathing and undulating abdomen were proof of her growing need.  Something was building inside of her.  She could feel it, her belly tightening, desire nearly choking her.  "Now, Brady," she said, with a knowledge born of instinct.  "I'm ready now."

He abandoned his position and stood, looking deeply into her eyes.  "You're sure?"  For the final time, she nodded her permission, and then, his breeches were gone and she was looking upon the first naked man she had ever seen.  She had no time to feel embarrassment as he settled his body against her, his hands urging her legs up to wrap around his waist.  She felt the smooth obsidian rock at her back and Brady's hardness in front of her, and then his lips settled over hers, while he began to enter her.  His lips were gentle, all giving, as though he could in some way take the pain away from her with his kiss. 

But nothing could take away that pain, that burning, wretched, tearing pain deep inside of her.  Chloe felt as though she would be split in half, it was such a ripping force.  She forced her lips away from his to let out a cry of strangled pain and wondered why she had been so insistent for something that hurt so much.  Brady didn't move within her, only watched her through sympathetic eyes.  "Are you all right?"

No! she wanted to scream.  No!  I'm not all right.  I'll never be all right again.  But seeing the look in his eyes, the clear love in his crystal orbs of blue, she withheld the answer that sprung so easily to her lips.  She said nothing at all for a moment, waiting for the pain to ease somewhat, and then she nodded, wrapping her arms more tightly around him, putting her face to his ear.  "Yes, yes, Brady.  I'm ready."

He began to move then, slowly at first, allowing her to fall back into the rhythm he had taught her.  The spray of the waterfall fell over them, bathing their bodies in refreshing coolness, and sweat mingled with it.  And then, for Chloe, it was all random images, thoughts that had no bearing on reality.  Cool stone against her back.  Brady inside her, moving, always moving.  Her hips pushing against his, as that desperate tightness began to build again.  The feel of his hair between her fingers, the sound of his breath in her ear, the occasional feel of his lips against hers, the rush of the waterfall, the blood swimming inside of her, pumping hot and fast until she thought she would burst.  She was no longer shivering.  She was shaking, shaking uncontrollably, and all she could do was cling to Brady and hope he could hold her, while the blood rushed through and she shook.

She was panting, and she couldn't breathe, and she was breathing too fast and too hard, and Brady's breathing was echoing off of hers, and the world was whirling, and the colors all blended together, and she couldn't see, and the blood was behind her eyes now, turning everything red, and the tightened knot inside of her burst, and she was still shaking and shaking, even as she felt the warmth enter her and other warmth leave her, and she never heard her own scream, though Brady did, and he held her while she shook.

~~*~~

He saw the roses, but he didn't believe his eyes, so he leaned forward to smell them.  They were real.  He could smell the roses.  A grin lit his face as he trod the well-known path.  He hadn't walked in the rose garden since there was a different Lady Black, a Lady Black who loved the roses and walked with her fingers trailing in them and never cared if she pricked her finger.  His pace quickened as he turned a corner.  She had to be here somewhere.  He wouldn't have come if she wasn't.  "IzzyB?  Izzy?  Where are you?"

Her sweet, soft laughter reassured him.  "I'm right here, John."

He whirled around, and true to her word, there she was, swinging gently under the old oak tree on the wooden swing he had built for her the year she came to live at the Black estate.  "Where have you been?" he demanded, as he skimmed over the last few yards separating them.

"I've been watching you," she said, and he was amazed by how light and free she was as she sat there swinging away.  She was dressed not in white, but in her favorite sky-blue dress.  He could remember every time she wore it, but it had never seemed quite as light as this.  She looked as though she hadn't aged a day since the last time he had seen her and held her and kissed her.  The same deep love still pooled out of her eyes, until he was saturated by it.  "I've been watching our son too."

"I found him, IzzyB," John responded, with something akin to pride, as he settled himself in the grass by her feet the way he used to do.  "It took me twenty years, but I found Brady."

She nodded and smiled.  "Yes, I know.  I helped you find each other.  I always knew you would."

John frowned, as reality struck him.  "But, Isabella, he said you were dead.  He told me about how you died, though he didn't tell me it was you."

"Alive and dead are relative terms, my love," she responded, with that same knowing smile.  "As long as you still remember me, I'll still be here, in your dreams."  She sank off the swing and pressed her hands to his chest.  "Here, in your heart."

He grabbed her hands and kissed them, feeling the smooth softness of her skin.  "I love you.  I've always loved you."

"I know," was all the reply necessary.  She leaned back and lay with him, her body pressed against his, the smell of roses all around him.  He gazed down at their intertwined fingers, marveling at how perfectly they still fit together.  This was peace and contentment like he hadn't known in years. 

She sat up so suddenly he was startled.  Her eyes turned to him, bright and panicked.  "You have to wake up now, John."

"What?  Why?" he demanded, trying to pull her back towards him and recapture the lost moment of serenity.

"Someone's after you.  You have to wake up and fight them." 

He was confused by her knowledge of such a thing.  "No one's after me.  Don't turn this dream into a nightmare.  I want to stay here…with you."

Isabella's face softened momentarily.  "You can stay with me, John.  You have a choice before you.  You can stay asleep, and this dream becomes reality.  Or you can wake up, learn to know your son, watch your children grow up."

He hesitated for a moment, torn between the woman he'd been longing for, for twenty years, and the children he loved and desired to protect.  "What will happen to them if I stay here?"

She shook her head.  "It doesn't work like that, my love.  You must choose for yourself.  If you want to see what happens to them, you have to live through it."

In the small conscious part of his mind, he could hear footsteps drawing nearer, hear heavy breathing over him.  He had to make his decision now, or it would be too late.  Isabella's hand began to slip from his grasp, and he knew.  He couldn't lose her again.  He pulled her to him and covered her lips with his own.  "I choose you."

The assassin hesitated over the sleeping figure as he murmured three words: "I choose you."

Laughter bubbled out from the cold lips.  "I'm afraid it no longer matters what you choose, Your Lordship," was the cruel response, before the viscount's own sword was plunged repeatedly into his heart.