AN: Endless thanks to Nimue, without whose ever-dedicated guidance and encouragement, these words would not continue to flow. Well, maybe they would flow. But not nearly as smoothly…
"An Eye For a Bargain" and "Into the Fire" – have YOU read them yet?
~*~*~
Come let me play with you, come black satin dancer
In all your giving, given in the answer
Tearing life from limb and looking sweeter
Than the brightest flower in my garden…
~Jethro Tull, "Black Satin Dancer"
~*~*~
A playful wind clung to the coattails of the fleeing storm and danced across the decks of the Pearl, tickling the whiskers of her crew and nearly stealing the hat of her captain as he made his way to the main mast. Jack used his empty hand to reach up and secure his hat, as the other was wrapped tightly around the hilt of Aveline's ridiculous dagger. His kohl-lined eyes narrowed to inquisitive slits, examining the pitiful excuse for a weapon in his experienced hand.
At first glance, it appeared rather crude; its blade was rusted along either edge, and its silver hilt was tarnished, scratched, and covered in layers of unidentifiable grime. Not the sort of tool a pirate as arrogant as Jack Sparrow would normally add to his arsenal. However, upon closer inspection through the eye of a treasure hunter, he noticed a delicate, feathery engraving down the flat of the blade, as well as an ornate carving adorning the well-worn hilt. He ran his thumb along the markings, noting a few hollowed spots along the design that indicated it had once been encrusted with jewels. Jack twirled the end of his mustache, wondering how the crafty lass had come into possession of the little dagger, and exactly where she intended to sheathe it.
Biting down on the blade, Jack shed his long coat and set about scaling the mast, climbing toward the crow's nest with an agility demonstrative of how frequently he'd made the same trip. The muscles of his upper body expanded and contracted with the dexterity of well-seasoned sailors, cooperating soundlessly to complete a task and assure a smooth journey. In many ways, Jack's body mirrored the crew of the Pearl, visually harmless, but secretly capable of a great many feats. His own slender stature had served him in drawing on the element of surprise, for the body that had been strengthened by years of exertive endeavors and escapes hid behind the frontage of a seemingly lanky, oft-drunken pirate.
Jack grinned at the very thought of it; what a charlatan he was.
He supposed he would have to call upon that particular skill in wooing the girl. Aye, she was a pretty lass, but hardly the basic tavern wench he was accustomed to bedding. For one, he estimated her to be nearly twenty years his junior, and his myriad of lovers had all been within ten or so years of his own age. Often, they were quite a bit older, and utilizing the obscurity of cosmetics to lure in the younger captain. To Jack, it mattered naught; a beddin' was a beddin'. They were usually hardened women, wise to the ways of the world, and particularly to the ways of a rogue like himself. Wenches like Scarlett and Giselle were hardly caught unawares by his womanizing habits; on the contrary, they played the game as well as he. Aveline, on the other hand, as clever as she seemed, was no doubt naïve, and especially soft. He'd found her to be easily manipulated down in the brig, and assumed she would be as easily manipulated throughout their awkward liaison.
How exactly he would woo her, he wasn't entirely certain. Best to get a better feel for the loony lass before trying any of his tricks. And how he would dispose of her after the ritual was an entirely different dilemma altogether. He had learned long ago that deflowering a woman wasn't such an effortless task; it required the right amount of cunning and forethought to escape such an encounter unscathed, as the emotional onslaught experienced by a woman at the loss of her maidenhead was enough to drive a man straight to the asylum should he not evade her before she became infatuated. The very idea caused Jack to hesitate a moment in his climb and shudder, for nothing struck greater fear into the hearts of pirates everywhere than love. To be a pirate Prometheus, bound to an island rock and forced to have his liver eaten and digested by a feminine vulture on a daily basis, was a fate infinitely worse than death for a man of the sea. Better to dance the hempen jig, than to dance at one's wedding.
And as much as Jack adored weddings, he'd just as soon turn himself over to Port Royal authorities than to become a married man himself.
Thus, it seemed that seducing the young girl would be a downright difficult task. Especially considering her fragile condition…
Good thing I'm a bit daft meself, eh?
He reached the crow's nest at long last, Duncan making room for him to climb inside and crouch down.
"Ye ain't t' touch this. Nor can ye tell anyone where it is," he informed the man, who nodded in dutiful agreement. "You're a good man, Duncan."
"Aye, Cap'n. Count on me."
Jack smirked as he hid the dagger beneath the white flag; blasted thing was just taking up space, anyhow. 'Least now he could put it to some use…
"On your guard, mate," he ordered the sailor before climbing out of the crow's nest and beginning his journey back down the mast.
~*~*~
Alone in the captain's quarters, Aveline stood stiff and straight as a sunflower, terrified to move. Allowing only her eyes to shift back and forth and survey her surroundings, she drew whispery breaths as her pained heart began pounding out a furious tribal rhythm in her chest. For a moment, she feared she might keel over as decade-old voices rang clear as bells in her head, sounding a death toll that both alarmed and incensed her.
You know this place, lass. Ye been here before…
Oh, that accursed man! Would he ever leave her be? Were he still alive, that she could lay his merciless body to waste beside her father's. Clasping two hands over her ears as though to expel the voices in her head, she succeeded only in preventing their escape, and the harder she fought to suppress them, the louder they became.
I'll have ye yet, lass. You're mine, for life!
She opened her mouth to scream, wishing to exercise the dark demon captain from her last shade of sanity, but remembered her promise to Jack Sparrow and with great restraint, snapped shut her jaw. Her fingers tangled in the hair around her ears, twisting the strands so tightly she might have ripped them out if not for the pain of it. Bowing her head that a few loose layers of her golden brown mane tumbled before her eyes, she hid behind the curtain of hair to avoid seeing the apparition she felt certain lurked somewhere nearby. A peripheral glance revealed the presence of a small charting table, complete with a rolled-out map quite similar to the one atop which she'd lain in her darkest hour, and Aveline began wondering if she hadn't in fact been here before.
A few eternal minutes passed, all spent combating her inner demons, and it was the approaching footsteps outside the cabin door which at last steered her away from her mind's battlefield. She recognized the cadence as that of Captain Sparrow, the lightness of his gait having been the strange fanfare that had heralded her release from the brig only minutes before. Compose yourself! she heard Roberta scold her gently, and for once, Aveline obeyed her handmaiden. Wilting, she dropped her arms limply to her sides, relaxed her neck and tilted her head that she resembled a dying floret leaning meekly toward the sunlight, vulnerable and weak.
An act to Aveline, she knew naught how genuinely she withered.
"Ye don't take orders well, do ye, girl?"
Aveline startled; she'd known he was close, but not right behind her. She rotated to find Captain Sparrow seemingly annoyed at returning to find her in exactly the same spot in which he'd left her. The irritation in his dangerous eyes was enough to chase away what cobwebs of her delusion remained.
"No, I simply… wish not to change my dress." Her tone was imaginary, that of a pixie.
"I'm afraid ye haven't a choice in the matter, lass. You're far too scantily clad t' be keeping the company o' pirates. Ain't safe, mark my words."
Her mildness faded slightly as a puzzled Aveline glanced down at her ruined muslin dress, failing to see why he considered the dress 'scanty.' "I understand that my attire is not entirely presentable, but I don't see how that matters in the company of pirates."
"Well, maybe it doesn't. But your attire is overly presentable, if ye catch me meanin', and allowin' all the Spanish Main to count the laces in your corset is not considered practical behavior in the company of pirates. If you wish not to be accosted, that is."
What remained of her feeble feint gave up the ghost, incinerated by the irrepressible inferno of her mounting mortification.
Her cheeks and ears afire with embarrassment, Aveline speedily crossed the cabin to the ornately framed full-length mirror in its corner. Sure enough, her reflection presented her with what could very well be considered a scantily clad girl. Soaked through, the thin ivory muslin did very little to conceal the corset, as wet fabric clung to every line and curve of her physique and, despite her slip, revealed even the shadow of the dark triangle at the apex of her thighs, if one gave bother to look. Aveline had no doubt that Jack Sparrow had ventured a glance, and she immediately wished she had her dagger; her blasted veins could use a draining. Aghast, she hurried to take cover behind the mirror, peeking naught but her head out from behind its frame.
"You blackguard!" she exclaimed, now desperate for either a quick death or a change of clothes. "Bring me a gown, at once!"
"Sorry, lass. Unfortunately for you, I ain't the best at takin' orders meself. I'm afraid you'll have to make the trip across the room by your onesies."
She felt the heat rise through her neck to flood her face, and she charged angrily across the room to retrieve a dry garment, quickly so as to deny the captain's eyes access to her vulnerability. As she bent to obtain a dress from the trunk, however, Jack enjoyed a long, appraising look at the girl's rump, all but exposed to him by the tautness of wet fabric, the slack of which had been gathered at the dress's front in Aveline's effort to cover herself. She may not be a likeable one, but she certainly ain't an ugly little strumpet. No, seducing Aveline Hartwell would certainly not be the most unpleasant task Captain Jack Sparrow had ever been forced to undertake. And time was on his side as well; he needed only a week to win her favor, he ventured to guess, and the journey to and from Le Havre would take far longer; he guessed he would have to call upon what little will power he had to restrain himself from taking her too soon. Nonetheless, he would have time enough to win the girl's trust and earn her affections. And if not, there was always their bargain to fall back on…
Plunging both hands into the trunk, Aveline removed the two dresses it contained. Both were made of the finest black silk and trimmed with luxuriant gold lace. She turned and stared at Jack in disbelief.
"Where did you get these?"
Jack cocked a sideways grin. "Those were found aboard a merchant vessel bound for England. Mourning dresses for the king's mistresses, I'm told."
"An impressive steal, for certain."
"Swag," he corrected her. "It's a piratical term."
She nodded her understanding. "Impressive swag, then." Standing, she discarded the larger of the two gowns and, holding the other in front of her transparent dress, returned to the protective shield of the mirror to change. "You will kindly avert your eyes, Captain Savage."
Jack fired a curious look in her direction. "Sparrow, love. Captain Sparrow."
Aveline popped her head back out from behind the mirror's frame, her eyes boding evil. "That's what I said," she informed him, her voice wound as tightly as a watch spring. Had she appeared less maniacal, Jack would have been inclined to argue, egocentric as he was.
"Of course. My mistake."
Narrowing her gaze defensively, Aveline disappeared behind the mirror once more.
Jack averted his eyes as she had requested, contemplating the eerie nature of the girl and the change of mood he'd just witnessed her undergo. Strange little thing, she was. Composed one minute, uncanny the next. At least I'm a little barmy all the time… He wondered if he could tie her to the bed at night without eliciting too much of a protest…
"This dress is enormous!" she exclaimed, emerging from behind the mirror. It was rather large on her, but one would be remiss not to note Aveline as a tiny girl. One elegant, oversized sleeve drooped carelessly off her left shoulder, revealing flesh as white as the Jolly Roger against the ebony silk of the gown.
"Let me give ye a hand with that," Jack offered roughly and with as straight a face as he could muster, gallantly swaggered across the room to step behind her and assist. He returned the sleeve's edge to its rightful place on her shoulder, then began lacing the top of the gown to secure it, conscientiously brushing his fingertips feather-light over her exposed skin as he did. He took care not to catch her eye in the mirror, pursing his lips in feigned concentration as he tied an impenetrable sailor's knot to keep the gown in place, and while it was still obviously too large a gown for her petite frame, he felt confident it would not fail to keep her decisively clothed. When he had finished, he immediately stepped away from her, allowing her a bit of personal space, and watched as she adjusted the garment here and there for comfort. She turned to him, as though seeking his approval, though he doubted she required it, and he nodded for formality's sake.
"Thank you," she murmured, taken aback somewhat by his politeness. This was the desired effect for Jack, who simply smiled his response. "Captain Sparrow?"
"Yes, love?"
"Where am I to sleep?"
Jack wrestled with the suggestive grin that fought to overcome his noble façade. "The bed, of course."
Aveline took a distrustful step back, pressing herself against the mirror that had seemingly become her personal fortification against Jack. As though the glass wouldn't break…
"You gave me your word, Captain…"
"And I ain't goin' back on it either, woman. I'll be sleepin' over here." He gestured to the large, velvet-cushioned bench positioned near the window. Aveline eyed the item of furniture suspiciously.
"Shouldn't I sleep on the chaise? Being that I am both smaller, and the guest?"
Jack shook his head, raising a pointed finger to accentuate the declaration to come. "On the contrary, lass. You are a woman, as well as me mistress, and therefore, ye take the bed. I will most courteously surrender its superior comfort to you in the interest of making your passage aboard the Pearl all the more agreeable. Savvy?"
But Aveline, as usual, remained quite unconvinced. "If you are looking to earn my approval, Captain Sparrow, you'll certainly not do so with any series of favors."
His semblance of a smile vanished, an arrant frown assuming its place. Flailing his arms in submission, he proudly declared, "Well, forgive me for bein' a gentleman. The role never did suit me. Perhaps I'll simply return to me role as dishonest, unlawful, dyed-in-the-wool pirate Captain Jack Sparrow, and we'll be on with the rape and pillage. More agreeable to ye, love?"
Her demons wailed, threatening to reveal themselves to the pirate captain as she clamped her thighs together beneath her skirts in soundless resistance. "Please," she pleaded softly, abandoning her prudent suspicions in favor of the terror that inhabited her heart. "Do not say things to frighten me any further. I will cooperate. I will. I'll sleep in the bed."
This threw Jack completely off for about the umpteenth time since he'd made the girl's acquaintance some two hours ago. Defiance, compliance… daft! He suspected he would never be able to read the girl as he did the rest of the world, and that he would have to grow accustomed to simply handling her as she… went.
Aye, man. But where is she goin'?
"There ain't reason to be afraid o' me, if ye don't give me reason to give you reason to be afraid. Savvy?"
She didn't "savvy"; in fact, she hadn't a clue what the man had said. "Come again?"
"I said, ain't no reason to be afraid 'o me, if ye don't give me reason to give you reason to be afraid. I won't hurt ye, love, not unless ye make me."
Make him? Make him? If there was one thing Aveline had long-ago decided and henceforth lived by, it was that she could not be held responsible for her own misfortunes. Hence, her bastard father had to pay…
"I ask you please, Captain Sparrow, to understand and respect the fact that, however common to you, our arrangement is aberrant to me. I am not comfortable with this environment, nor with the company, nor with the role I am made to play, and your idle threats do little to ease my discomfort. I do not know how I am to be expected to fulfill my half of our bargain if you continue provoking me to the edge of sanity."
Jack pursed his lips, unsure how to respond to this new accusation. Thoughtful fingers stroked his beard, restless toes tapped against the floorboards. And then, he spoke: "You have any idea what's about to come out your mouth from one moment to the next?"
Aveline balked. "I beg your pardon?"
"Have you any idea what you'll be sayin' t' me a minute from now? I mean, one minute ye be protestin' a change o' clothes, the next swearin' at me an' demandin' I clothe ye. You ask me not to do you favors, then ask that I do ye the goodwill o' mindin' me mouth. You have any idea what you'll be sayin' next, woman?"
She furrowed her brow. "I suppose not."
"Then hardly seems fair to expect as much from a pirate. You an' I'll just have to adjust to one another's bein' one another, if we're to make it through this debacle. I'll especially not have anyone marchin' about me decks givin' orders, and I sense that's where your boldness will take ye next. And that's me final word on it."
Stunned by his dominance, Aveline figured she could do naught else but nod in agreement. She felt a sense of loathing beginning to build toward the man, anger at his insistence on so controlling her. The absolute nerve of the man! Even the world's criminals were out to suppress her. However, under the command of this criminal, and without her dagger, Aveline's options in dealing with the problem were as scant as the ivory muslin of her drenched, discarded dress.
"As you wish, Captain Sparrow."
~*~*~