Chapter 9
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. Tear But if anyone's looking to sell them let me know.
Author's Note: Love to all. I didn't plan to have this up so soon. I have two papers I should be writing right now. My teachers think I'm an English major or something (oh, wait, I am!). But I do love all you reviewers dearly, and you did beg, and Pearl has been insistently plaguing my mind lately so maybe if I appease her I can get some work done.
Pearl opened the door to the Interceptor's main cabin slowly, habit making her check for traps. Satisfied that no unwelcome surprises awaited her in the Commodore's bedroom she stepped in. Dropping her heavy bag by the door and settling her wooden case more carefully beside it she ran and pounced onto the bed with a happy sigh. "What I wouldn't give for a nap," she remarked to no one in particular as she snagged a pillow and curled happily into it. Inhaling deeply she realized suddenly that she could smell the man's scent. What's more, she reveled just a bit in it, relaxing without thinking.
"Stop it," she ordered herself aloud. "This is all Marden's fault. And having Will around certainly doesn't help. Horney as a minx, I am. Two months on that damn boat. And babysitting all the time in Tortuga. Small wonder really." Sighing she sat up, grinning as she looked around the room. "Hmm. Fantastic opportunity to snoop around and find topics of conversation that will bug the hell out the Commodore."
Pitching herself off of the bed she wandered the room. A large painting of a huge ship first caught her attention. All around it a storm raged, lightning forking down to the water. Around the ship itself, however, the clouds seem to have fled in a perfect circle, making the ship glow with brilliant sunlight. She considered stealing it when the time came but decided it would be too much trouble to pack around until she found her way back onto the Pearl. Taking a moment to study the heavy Persian carpet beneath her feet with approval she passed a framed English flag with a snort. If she had brought one along she would have disposed of the English flag and put a pirate one up in its place. She chuckled as she imagined the look that would put on the good Commodore's face. Next she bypassed the heavy wooden bed covered in scarlet velvet with heavy hangings of the same material--something else she approved of--before coming to the wardrobe. Grinning evilly she pulled it open.
Five blue coats, all pressed and pristine hung there. Wrinkling her nose she pulled one out to study it. "The words tight ass come to mind. You need to loosen up, boy-o." Grabbing the rest of the coats, as well as the white breeches to match, she strode across the room, opened a window, and tossed them into the blue waters below. "Much better."
Returning to the wardrobe she found several pairs of soft brown breaches and pristine white shirts she found much more fitting. She chuckled menacingly when she found a drawer containing his nickers, but decided to leave well enough alone, mostly because she couldn't think of anything extremely clever to do.
Moving on she found a portrait of the current queen of England. With a wrinkling of her nose she wrenched the painting from the wall none too gently and chucked it out the window as well. "Oops," she remarked as she watched the waves swallow the canvas.
She paused to study several ships in bottles above the mantle with something close to awe, as well as a lovely statuette of Venus. Above the mantel was a framed signed and sealed letter from the English royalty describing the Interceptor with all due overblown terms. Next to it hung the certificate promoting Norrington to Commodore.
The last thing warranting investigation was the desk, and Pearl found that whole affair extremely boring. A gilded mirror sitting on the flat surface caught her attention for a minute. The only thing contained in the desk was parchment, maps, ink, and several orders from various authorities in the English government. One drawer, however, upon further investigation, revealed a false bottom. With a gleeful chuckle Pearl pushed the catch and watched the bottom of the drawer pop up.
Scooting closer she reached into the dark opening, feeling carefully around. She withdrew a small circle of wood with a painted portrait in it. The woman was beautiful, long brown-blond curls caught up behind her and pink lips laughing with a sparkle in her blue eyes. She regarded it carefully. "Edward, dear, do you have a sweetheart you haven't been telling me about?" she asked the empty room. Receiving no response she returned the little portrait to its place. She would ask him at a more convenient time.
With a final sigh she shoved the drawer shut and turned her attention back to the door. "I suppose I should let them out."
Going out onto deck and taking a final look from the crow's nest she descended to the brig. Clomping easily down the stairs she found herself the singular attention of every man there. "Anyone want out?" she asked, twirling the keys around her finger. While the military men stood perfectly still the regular crew ran forward, clamoring to get out. With a chuckle she moved to them, accepting their thanks as they vacated the cell, then she turned to the navy men.
"You know, we could leave them there. Sail the ship into Tortuga ourselves and sit around having a good time." The gathered men chuckled.
Norrington, on the other hand, looked anything but amused as he strode forward to grip the bars. "That would be mutiny."
"Not really," she disagreed. "You see, I have the keys, I locked you up, and I'm not part of your crew." He didn't say anything, merely growled in response. "I was only kidding anyway," she added flippantly as she unlocked the door and pulled it open with a mocking bow.
He strode out quickly, grabbing the keys from her hand as he strode up the stairs with the crew and Pearl, after a heavy sigh and roll of her eyes, following. "Get above!" he ordered. "I want the ship swept for any signs of Sparrow's crew left behind."
"Present!" Pearl chirped gleefully as she saluted. "Although I'll tell you straight out that I'm the only one. Or I had better be or my father is going to find something squishy in his bed."
Norrington turned on her so quickly she nearly fell backward down the stairs. "I should lock you up in the brig, by all rights."
She blinked at him for several moments, wondering where the sudden anger was coming from. Finally she shrugged. "You could try, I suppose, if you feel that threatened by a teenage girls. But if I intended you any real harm I would have done it while you were locked up. And I can be a valuable asset to the crew."
Norrington snorted and continued his assent. "As soon as the ship is swept I want to pull up anchor and turn this tub around. We pursue the course Sparrow was taking."
"You won't find him," Pearl chanted in a sing-songy voice as they reached the deck.
"Then why are you so insistent that we not try?" he demanded.
"Because Elizabeth wanted me to get a note to her father and I could use some down time in Tortuga."
He stood regarding her for a moment before he said, "You will come with me to my quarters immediately." She would only hamper the search, whether she knew of any stowaways or not.
"If you want to get me into bed, Norrington, all you have to do is ask," she remarked with a nasty grin.
"We have much to discuss," he corrected.
"Call it what you like," she answered with a shrug as she turned around and flounced down to the cabin she had just vacated.
She entered ahead of him, going over to flop onto the bed as he paused by the door to look down at her bag. "What's this?"
"My stuff," she answered, croocking a finger to call him over.
He pointedly ignored the inviting vision before him. "Where did the painting of the queen go?" he asked.
"I chucked the old broad out the window."
"You what?!" Norrington gasped.
"She creeped my out, staring at me like that. Plus she was ugly."
"She was the queen!"
"I don't recall ever pledging fealty to her. You know, it was probably all the inbreeding. You want a sparkling example of health and beauty look for the most mixed person you can find. I have this friend in Port Nelvens. Half Aztec. Sells chocolate. She has THE most beautiful skin."
"I beg your pardon?"
"And then there's me. Mostly Irish," she ran a hand through her red hair for emphasis, "with a little French and Spanish thrown into the mix. And then there's the English on Jack's side. And he swears up and down that his grandmother was a princess in India, although I'm hardly certain about that."
"How on earth would a pirate end up with an Indian Princess for a grandmother?" Norrington asked disbelievingly.
"Well, according to him, she was being sent to England to marry some big shot to secure peace when Jack's grandfather, also a pirate if you can imagine that, sacked the ship. She wasn't just crazy about the marriage arrangement so Jack's grandfather put her up in Tortuga. Even married her. Of course, he died two years later, but it's the thought that counts."
Norrington shook his head in apparent confusion. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
Pearl shrugged. "Well, it did come out of my father's mouth."
"Would you come over here please?" he asked as he sat in his desk.
"Why? Beautiful woman in your bed make you uncomfortable?"
He sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead. "No, and I don't recall ever telling you you were beautiful."
"Oh, that hurts. It really does. Ouch." Moving across the room she stood behind his chair, pushing the bluejacket from his shoulders.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Undressing you," she answered. "I'm going to try to easy your headache," she answered, fingers messaging his shoulders.
He sounded as if he were going to object but groaned as she began to loosen the stiff muscles. She spent several minutes kneading his muscles before leaning over to nip at his neck and whisper suggestively into his ear, "I could do this much better on the bed."
His eyes popped open at that and he shoved her hands away. "I believe that will suffice."
Laughing, Pearl moved around to sit on the desk. "You know, things would be so much easier if you would just let go for a few moments."
"You'll excuse me if I don't jump at the chance to take advice from a pirate."
She shrugged indifferently. Suddenly she bent over to empty the drawer with the false bottom and retrieve the hidden miniature. "Who is this?"
Norrington stared at her in shock. "How did you find that?"
"Snooping. She's pretty. Are you going to marry her?"
"She's my mother. And I would thank you not to go through my things," he said, snatching the miniature from her hands.
"What happened to her? Is she in Port Royale?"
"No. She was murdered by pirates many years ago," he answered in a scathing tone.
Pearl didn't look away from the angry glance he threw at her. "Do you know who did it?"
"Someone by the name of Bootleg."
"Ah, Brendon," she remarked.
"You know him?"
"You could say that. Made the mistake of taking passage from him once. Thought my father's name would be enough to frighten him. He made me an offer I had to refuse. He wasn't too pleased, but I was insistent. Took his right eye, broke his leg, and nearly threw him overboard I was so insistent. Unfortunately, the crew was loyal to him. He...exacted his own price." She shifted suddenly, shrugging her shoulders. "If I ever catch the bastard he's dead. Jack's said as much."
"I'm sorry," Norrington said.
"Not as sorry as he'll be," she answered.
"I'd believe it," he remarked. With a sigh he shrugged stood, picking up his coat and looking at the stains with distaste. Pearl had to stifle a giggle as he moved toward his wardrobe. He stopped still when he pulled it open. Turning suddenly he eyed the girl innocently picking at her nails on his desk.
"Pearl."
"Yes darling?"
"Don't call me darling. Where are my coats?"
"What coats are you referring to, Edward dear?"
"My blue ones," he answered through gritted teeth, striding quickly across the room to face her down.
"Oh, those. They're keeping the queen company," she answered, motioning toward the window.
He sighed deeply, messaging his brow. "I'll just have to borrow one of Gillette's. I should throw you out the window," he added, wagging a finger at her.
"I'm frightened," she responded.
"Perhaps you should be," he answered. "You're far too sure of yourself for a woman stuck on a ship full of men."
"You think I should be huddled in a corner simpering at you and begging you not to have your way with me?" she asked.
"Of course not. I am a man of honor. You, on the other hand, are a pirate."
"So I should be begging you not to hang me from the main mast?"
"No. But you should not risk my anger by throwing my possessions overboard." She began to laugh at that. "What?" he asked.
"'Risk your anger'? Oh, Norrington, you're too much. I'd like to see you get angry." She paused, eyes searching the room as if inspiration struck. "In fact, let's try it," she suggested, jumping off of the desk. Hurrying across the room she picked up a small statue of a Greek Goddess and hurried over to the window to dangle it out. "What if Madame Venus went for a swim?"
"Pearl, put that down," he ordered.
She nodded once. "Whatever you say Commodore," he replied, dropping it into the waves below.
"Bloody hell, woman!" he yelled, crossing the room to stare at the rolling waves that had swallowed the statue.
She grinned up at him, cocking one eyebrow. "Yes?"
He glared over at her, going slightly red in the face. "I should-" He stopped, trying to think of what he should do.
"While you're working on that why don't I just dispose of that gilded mirror for you?" she offered, moving to snatch it up.
He caught her before she got to it, capturing her shoulders in a steal grip and backing her up against the wall. She continued to grin infuriatingly, the very picture of her father. "You should what?" she asked again, completely ignoring the power of his gaze. "Tell me Commodore. Are you going to strike me?" She lifted his hand, caressing the palm open with calloused fingers and placing it a proper distance from her cheek. "Go ahead. I dare you."
"No," he answered, dropping his hand and balling it into a fist. "I am an honorable man and I will not strike a woman."
"Is that a fact?" Pearl asked, voice suddenly cold. "You wish to coddle me now? Perhaps you don't feel I'm capable of caring for myself. Won't hit me because I'm too pristine, is that it? What if I hit you first?" She pulled her hand back and slapped him hard across the face. "Think of that next time you feel you're too strong and powerful to dirty your honor with some wench!" she ordered, turning to stock past him.
"I should lock you in the brig!" he cried, grabbing her hand to stop her.
"No I never should have let you out! You were much more cordial behind bars. Unhand me!"
"A moment ago you wanted me to hit you. Now I'm holding your wrist too tightly?" he asked, twisting his grip and pulling her closer. "You'll forgive me if I don't worry over it. I wouldn't want to coddle you. I am the Commandore on this ship and you will obey my orders!"
"Or what?!" she demanded.
Later he would wonder what came over him. He was, in all honesty, a very kind and gentle man, especially where women were concerned. All he knew was that he was angry, that somehow this woman-no, this girl!-was pushing buttons in him he didn't even know he had. He was frustrated and angry and he wanted her to fear him, only for a moment, so she would feel as helpless as he did in that moment.
He pushed her hard against the wall. She didn't cry out, didn't even move. Simply glared at him with those demanding, daring eyes. He advanced on her, drawing himself up to his full height so he could look down on her. He invaded her space, pressing his face close to hers as he dared, backing her hard against the wall. So close he could feel her unconsciously pressing herself back into the hard wood. Still her eyes shot sparks at him, no trace of fear to be found. This close he could see the individual coppery threads that made up her eyes. "Or what?" she repeated, softer this time, lower, almost a growl. Or perhaps a purr.
She moved suddenly, wrapping her arm around his neck and pulling his lips forcefully down to hers. Before he could register what was happening he found himself plagued by her demanding lips. All of the anger, all of the heat, suddenly turned into boiling passion. And he answered in kind, offering her his own intensity, his own heat.
It was like nothing he had ever experienced before. This was no porcelain doll, no gentle woman to be cradled and handled with care. She was a wild force that would not be tamed, that would not allow him to be tame. She awakened something in him.
Then, just as suddenly, she stopped. She pulled away, or rather pushed him away as he had been crushing her against the wall, head snapping toward the open window. "Pearl?" Her eyes were distant suddenly. They held none of the heat or passion that he could feel in her still-racing heart. "Pearl, what's wrong?"
"The wind." Her voice was distant, emotionless. She might have been commenting on the temperature of her afternoon tea. She pushed out of his arms, moving steadily over to the window to lean out over the rushing sea. "The wind just shifted."
"What?" Norrington asked, completely confused. Was she trying to think of an excuse to get away from him?
"Blast it all, the wind just shifted!" she said angrily as she rushed past him to the cabin door.
"And?" Norrington asked, seeing no cause for alarm in the bright Caribbean sun streaming through the window.
"I'm not sure. I need to get up on deck," she answered, leading him at a trot into the heat of the day.
He paused when she reached the rigging and climbed more swiftly than any monkey up to the crow's nest. Most of the men looked up in apparent awe, but she took no notice. Instead she stood, eyes turned up to the sky as she pressed her hat back just far enough to see as much as possible without losing the offered shade from the offending sun. Norrington scanned the horizon but could see nothing alarming.
"What is she doing?" Gillette asked.
"I'm not certain," Norrington replied. "Something about the wind shifting."
"Perhaps Miss Sparrow will see fit to fly off," Gillette suggested.
"No, I don't believe I'm that lucky," Norrington answered, and they both laughed softly.
"Oi! Commodore!" Pearl cried suddenly, leaning over the side of her perch.
"Don't say 'oi,'" he called back. "It makes you sound uneducated. I know you can speak properly."
"Yes, Elizabeth," she answered. "We have to turn around."
"I beg your pardon?!" Norrington asked.
"We have to turn around," she repeated, pointing behind them. While the two of them had been alone in the cabin the crew had gotten the ship going in a pursuit course. "There's an island about a league back. We have to take shelter in the bay."
"Take shelter from what?" the Commodore asked.
"The storm."
Every man on the ship looked at the cloudless sky and burst out laughing. Pearl huffed in frustration as an adorable pout settled over her face. "We're catching up," Gillette said suddenly. "She's trying to throw us off course. Can you see a ship?" he called up to the other man in the crow's nest, who shook his head.
"You aren't catching up," Pearl said, grabbing a rope and sliding down to alight easily as any cat. "You aren't even going in the right direction, and if you were you would still sail right by the Black Pearl. Commodore Norrington, we have to take shelter somewhere and that island is the closest."
"Why should I believe you?" he asked, searching for a reason to trust her.
"Because I want to live," she answered readily.
"Don't listen to her, Commodore," Gillette ordered. "We're close and that's all there is to it."
"You are not close, you daft prick. The Pearl is the fastest ship in these waters and she has a good five hours head start on you."
Norrington stared up at the sky. "How do you know it's going to storm?"
"You'll laugh if I tell you," she said with a sigh.
"I won't," he promised.
"He will," she returned with a nod toward Gillette.
"He won't," Norrington promised.
Pearl sighed heavily. "All right." Crossing her arms and throwing Gillette a warning look she said, "I'm descended from an Aztec weather goddess."
The two stood blinking at her for several moments, then looked at each other, then bust out laughing. Throwing her hands over her head Pearl sighed heavily. "I told you."
"I thought it was an Indian Princess," Norrington said with a chuckle.
"That's on Jack's side. This is my mother's," she said completely seriously, which made them laugh all the harder. With a frustrated growl she turned on her heal and called, "Port!"
"Aye, lass?" he answered as he approached.
"You glad I'm on this ship?"
"Aye, mighty glad."
"Why?"
"Well, yer a joy to look'it, and great t' talk with, and--"
"No, really Port. I'm not looking for bull shit."
"Ah, then, because it be storm season and there ain't no one as sees storms commin' like you, 'sides mayhap yer brother and cousins."
She turned to the two officers, who had stopped laughing. "See?"
"Why? Is somethin' commin'?"
"Aye. A bad one. We need a port."
The old sailor nodded. "Best listen to her. My dear son, he'd be on the bottom of the sea if it weren't for this one. Jack more times'n he can count." With that he shuffled off to continue with his duties, but the men he spoke to looked rather nervous suddenly.
Sighing she took off her hat for a moment to run a hand through her hair. "All right. You don't have any real reason to trust me. I can respect that. I'll give you my word. Turn this ship around, drop anchor in the port. If you don't see clouds by nightfall I'll tell you where Jack is. I'll stand at that helm and sail this ship directly to him. I'll call him out and help you clap him in irons if I'm wrong. Please." She drew close, taking Norrington's hands in hers and looking deeply into his eyes. "Please, Edward. I'm not lying. On my honor, I'm not."
"Pirates don't have honor," Gillette interrupted.
"A lot of pirates have a lot more honor than most government officials you could name," she snapped.
Norrington squeezed her hands to reclaim her attention. "Don't make me regret this."
"You won't," she promised.
With a sigh he shook his head. "All right sailors. Let's turn her around," he called.
Final Note: There you go. A little heat for you. I know it didn't turn out the way you wanted, but Pearl won't let it go so have no fear that they will. Reviews make writing go faster, I promise.