AN: *belabored sigh* I'm SORRY this took so long. Trust me, I have an ample list of good reasons for the delay in updating, ranging from writer's block to holidays to exams to more holidays, coupled with numerous rewrites of the juicy parts. For the record, there would be no chapter ten without the goddess Nimue, whose persistent nagging and admirable devotion to inspiring me have earned her muse status. *feeds Nimi a cookie* The lovely lass also beta'd this one for me; she is a muse of many talents. If you still haven't raided her work, go forth, now! Nimue manages to update both of her PotC series AND crank out the occasion, *delectable* quickie. And for this, I am eternally grateful.
And so you all know, this is the last update I will be posting to fanfiction.net, for a variety of reasons. So if you would like to continue reading the story, my advice to you is to email me at quinntette@yahoo.com, or email the lovely Nimue at nymuea@yahoo.com, and request to be added to our mailing list. That said, enjoy the read.
Yours truly,
Quinn
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I had skin like leather and the diamond-hard look of a cobra
I was born blue and weathered but I burst just like a supernova
I could walk like Brando right into the sun
Then dance just like a Casanova...
~Bruce Springsteen, "It's Hard to be a Saint in the City"
(Bruce, Bruce, ahhh...)
~*~*~
Time had never passed so slowly for Captain Jack Sparrow, and yet, when a week had finally elapsed, he wondered if he wouldn't be dead of old age before the end of the next. Aveline had taken great care to avoid him, remaining locked in his cabin while he spent the day on deck and evacuating her sanctuary only when he sought to enter it. For a while he had puzzled over how she managed to keep occupied in there all day long, but clues began presenting themselves around the third day.
For one, her dress fit better, though not perfectly. She had managed to adjust it at the hem and about the waist that the sight of her garbed in the grossly oversized garment was no longer comical. In addition to the discarded strips of black satin littering the floor beneath his bed, there were books. His books, unearthed from a trunk – one of many trunks – which led him to believe that she'd gone snooping. It had compelled him to question this, but the urge had vanished when he'd realized they were keeping her happy, at least distracted, when she was obviously miserable. Which led him to the third bit of disturbing evidence: the dagger.
The dagger had settled on his nightstand the very night he'd given it to her and had not moved so much as a hair's breadth since. This bothered Jack something awful. He'd expected that her pretty face would soon be covered in cuts from sleeping with the blasted thing, but on the contrary, it seemed as though she hadn't even touched it.
Jack, for his part, had tried to investigate her odd behavior in a variety of ways. The subtle approach had proven immediately fruitless, as three nights of taking silent dinners with the girl had led him to taking dinner with the crew instead. He'd taken a glimpse at her choices of reading but found nothing other than the standard Shakespeare and Greek mythology, works a well-educated lady had no doubt already memorized and which she had obviously been using to simply pass the time. He'd sat up a few nights, listening for clues as to what plagued her to make themselves known in slumber, but all he had to show for his efforts were the bags beneath his eyes and a bothersome yawn. All the while, Gibbs had watched from afar as Jack continually failed to persuade the girl to open up to him, until at last the younger man had snapped and informed his first mate that his own efforts would be greatly appreciated, if he honestly thought he could do a better job.
And so, about an hour earlier, Gibbs had breached the threshold of Aveline's daytime sanctuary, outside of which Jack now anxiously paced. When at last the older man emerged, Jack all but grabbed him by the lapels of his vest and shook the information from him.
"What'd she say, mate?"
Gibbs' bemused smile did little to allay his unease. "She says she's merely tryin' to do right by ye, Jack."
"Do right by me?" he bellowed. "How is avoiding me and making me to feel like an intruder in my own cabin doing right by me?"
"Jack," Gibbs' voice took on a soothing tone. "She's just a scared little girl. She doesn't want to upset you again."
"Well, I daresay she's failing miserably," he spat through clenched teeth. "I said I'd have her worshipping the deck I walk on in a week's time, and I don't like being put off schedule."
Gibbs chuckled. "Is that what this is about? I don't think ye'll be havin' any trouble there, she's ready an' willin' to obey yer every command."
Jack cocked a skeptical eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"Aye. And if you turn on a little o' the ol' Jack Sparrow charm, maybe she'll even wiggle around whilst she's layin' beneath ye."
Jack gave his beard a thoughtful scratch as his first mate returned to his post. Testing the doorknob to the cabin, he found it unlocked, and he edged into the room as quickly as possible, slammed the door, and pressed his weight against it to prevent her flight.
Aveline looked up from her book, paling at the sight of Jack eying her ruttishly from the door. His eyes were narrowed in smoky reverence, and had she not been shocked beyond reason, Aveline might have wondered what she had done to earn such a smoldering gaze.
"Did you need something, Captain Sparrow?" she asked timidly, her fingers curling tightly around the book's edge.
"Aye," he replied huskily, flashing her a roguish grin, and Aveline was awed by her heart's rapid increase in rhythm. She remembered the night he'd killed Kursar, the disturbing little tingle she'd felt in response to the frighteningly masculine, frighteningly attractive sight of him, partly undressed and brandishing arms… That disturbing little tingle seemed to have returned.
Jack swaggered toward her with a measured pace, and Aveline's jaw dropped as she realized his hips led his gait. Her eyes were glued to the his out-thrust pelvis, entranced by the gentle, hypnotizing swing of the silk scarf hanging low on his waist. Dear God.
He stopped suddenly, his pelvis poised mere inches from her face, and she lifted her gaze to find him grinning down at her, his eyes cloudy with what she imagined was naught else but desire.
"Don't look so scared, lass," he drawled. His voice was low, rough, carnal, and confident, and when he drove the artful fingers of one hand through the golden waves at the crown of her head, Aveline nearly swooned. "It's just ol' Jack."
His expression turned serious then, concentrated in its passion. He stepped behind her chair to place two cunning hands on either side of her nape and began diligently working the muscles there, his magical touch melting the tension from her shoulders with supernatural ease.
Catching a glimpse of her wanton expression in the mirror, Aveline was startled by her abandoned reaction to his ministrations and sprang to attention in her chair. Turning her back to her reflection, she twisted free of the pirate's hold and stared up at him in quandary.
"What are your intentions, Captain Sparrow?"
He slanted her a look of hazy confusion. "My intentions?"
She nodded. "Are you trying to seduce me?"
Jack gasped, clutching a hand to his chest in mock appall. "By the saints, girl. What on Earth would give you that idea?" He paced to the nightstand and deftly lifted the dagger, twirling it between his index fingers before throwing her a suggestive wink, his lips pursed in an allusive fashion.
Aveline eyed the dagger as realization dawned on her. A favor for a favor.
One hundred pieces of eight.
"Captain Sparrow?" she asked meekly, remembering the dark beauty who had known the pleasure of his touch only days before. "Wouldn't a man your age prefer the company of a woman with more experience?"
His kohl-lined eyes widened in alarm. "A man my age? How old do you take me for?"
She shrugged innocently. "I imagine you're at least thirty."
The wolfish grin returned. "Thirty. Aye, that sounds about right." Returning the dagger to its spot on the nightstand, he sidled close to her once more, tracing the smooth curve of her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. "And no, love. A patient sparrow often finds the sweetest nectar in a flower whose petals have yet to open."
She swallowed hard, knowing that he'd already made up his mind and she could do naught but obey him. Rising on shaky legs, she marched to the rumpled bed and fell backward into its softness. She lay spread-eagled, eyelids squeezed tightly shut as she awaited the invasion that had become her duty to endure.
When that invasion failed to come, she sat bolt upright, eying the motionless pirate captain with nervous suspicion. "What is it?"
Jack moved nary an inch, thrown entirely off-balance by her strange behavior. "What are you doing, Aveline?" he asked flatly.
She gasped; it was the first time he'd called her by her first name. It sounded different, rolling evenly off the tip of the devil's forked tongue. "I'm submitting to your will, as you wish it," she explained.
Gibbs' words echoed in the back of Jack's mind: "She's ready an' willin' to obey yer every demand."
Christ, this wouldn't do…
He hadn't planned to corrupt the girl just yet, since doing so would destroy his chances to achieve immortal status. Rather, he'd meant simply to warm her to his touch, perhaps give her a taste of the maddening pleasure a man – nay, Captain Jack Sparrow – could inflict, were he able to crack the lock at her knees. The lock opening of its own accord, however, had been a disconcerting sight, and while Jack wasn't one to shun a beautiful woman throwing herself at the mercy of his mouth, he certainly wasn't about to take advantage of an unwilling girl.
No matter how willing she pretended to be.
"Stand up, love. I can't bear to see you looking so helpless."
Completely taken aback, Aveline complied. "But I thought–"
"Dine with me tonight," he practically ordered. "That's all I ask of you."
Dazed, she nodded. "All right."
Offering her a weary smile, Jack left her presence then, returning her to the safety of solitude.
~*~*~
When the ship's gentle sway ceased an hour later, Aveline was immediately unsettled. Why have we stopped? Daring to emerge from Jack's cabin, she sought out her captain and found that they had dropped anchor offshore of another island.
This time, Aveline was much less demanding in her inquiry. Sighting Jack at the helm, she approached him tentatively and kept a respectful distance, begging his pardon before questioning his actions. "Why have we stopped, Captain Sparrow?"
Jack looked down his nose at her with the most serious of expressions. "Because we're out of rum. Can't go any further without the rum." Especially if I'm to be makin' an effort to take meals with you again…
Aveline cast a skeptical glance toward the shore. "We're going ashore just for rum?"
"Aye."
"And what port is this?"
"This is Nassau, its cays and coves the ideal cache for any seafarin' scoundrel. I myself have a horde on the island."
Aveline arched her pretty brows. "Treasure?"
Jack rolled his eyes. "No, love. Rum."
"And what, pray tell Captain, is so remarkable about rum?"
Grabbing the motionless wheel, Jack leaned backward and eyed her with disbelief. "Haven't ye ever had yourself a swig of rum, love?"
"No. Despite my unconventionality, I do believe I am considered a lady by those with whom I keep company."
"Is that so?" He stroked one of the twin braids at his chin. "We'll have to do something to remedy that. You're in the company o' pirates now, and no pirate wants to tolerate the company of a lady." He offered her his arm, the gesture overdramatic and ironic as Jack was wont to be, and though she was skeptical of his intent, Aveline accepted.
Less than an hour later, they found themselves in one of Nassau's rowdier taverns, Jack happily soused and spinning tales at the bar, while Aveline sat, bored and bitter, at their table. Jack had given her a taste of the awful infusion, all right, and when she had all but gagged on that one little burning nip, he'd lost interest in her, abandoning her education in the finer points of debauchery in favor of highlighting his own finer points for a crowd of admiring drunkards.
She traced one pretty pale finger over the cracks in the wooden table. She thought to ask Jack to escort her back to the Pearl, but looking over at him, ranting and gesturing like a damned fool, she couldn't bear to interrupt his fun.
"Ken I buy ye a drink, lassie?" The thick Scottish brogue came from behind her, and Aveline turned to find a robust, redheaded, and rather handsome sailor looming over her. His sleeves were torn off at the shoulder, exposing finely toned arms to her – admiring? – eye, and Aveline eyed his griffin tattoo with interest. How exotic…
"I'm afraid I'm not a fan of drink. But I thank you for your offer," she said, flashing him a sweet smile.
"Perhaps ye might appreciate a bit o'company, then?" he asks, sitting down beside her before she could reply.
Aveline cast Jack a glance, and found him rather engaged in his babble. "I suppose I wouldn't mind the company."
The Scot grinned, leaning forward to assess her. "What's yer name, lassie?" His pale blue eyes examined the line of her slender neck, a grin barely curving the corners of his lips.
"Aveline Hartwell. And yours, sir?"
The pirate chuckled at being called 'sir' and, sidling closer to Aveline, slid his thick arm around her waist. "It's Fearghas MacLeod," he rumbled.
Aveline's eyebrows flew sky high. "Fearghas?"
"Aye. Means 'man of vigor' in the Gaelic tongue."
"Does it now…" For a moment, Aveline feared she might laugh in the man's face, but his brawniness easily stifled the urge for her. It could not, however, repress the tiny smirk that curled the corners of her lips. "T'is a pleasure to meet you, Fearghas."
"Aye, and t'is an extreme pleasure t' meet you," he boomed, drawing her up against his massive frame. He moved one meaty finger to caress her soft cheek. "Y'ever been on a pirate ship before, lass?"
~*~*~
"…and they made me their chief."
The crowd around him erupted into a bout of intoxicated laughter, which amused Jack to no end since each and every one of them had heard the story ten times over. Sighing complacently, he looked through the throng of drunkards to check on Aveline…
…and nearly hurled his empty tankard across the bar.
There she sat, cozying up to some hulking redheaded brute, the smile she wore one Jack himself had not even seen. Seething, he slammed down the tankard and charged across the tavern, splaying his fingers against the weather-beaten table and leaning forward. "Can I help you, mate?"
"Captain Sparrow!" Aveline exclaimed, laughing melodically. "This is Fearghas MacLeod. He's going to give me a tour of his ship."
"The hell he is," Jack snapped tautly, reaching forward and grabbing Aveline's hand. "Time to go."
"Hold on a second there, laddie," Fearghas interrupted, raising a meaty hand while rising from his chair to hover above Jack. "Seems to me the lassie was enjoyin' me company."
Jack tilted his head back in order to meet the burly Scotsman's eye. "Was enjoyin' yer company, mate. And it's been a delight for you, I'm sure. But we really do need to be heading on our way." Not breaking the man's gaze, he gave Aveline's arm a tug.
Brashly, Fearghas dropped his meaty hand, landing it forcefully against Jack's forearm, and preventing him from pulling Aveline any further. Jack raised an incredulous brow, and for a long moment, Aveline stood between the two men, anxiously anticipating her captain's next move. She wondered for a moment if he won't snap at the man's audacity to lay a hand on him, *him,* Captain Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl… And sure enough, in Jack's next move, he did something so shocking, Aveline wondered if any daring display of heroics could have topped it.
He released her.
She watched in disbelief as Jack stepped away, eyes narrowed and nostrils a bit flared, his jaw twitching a little and his stance a little less proud as he turned and walked toward the tavern entrance. Flinching a bit, she scrutinized him, trying to figure out what the matter was… Was his ego wounded? His pride? Was he frightened of the impressive Scot? Surely not…
As he approached the door, Jack's usually fluid body was frozen with tension, and he ground his teeth with suppressed anger. Who the hell did she think she was, anyhow? Wasn't he making a great sacrifice by traveling so far for her to exact a little revenge? Hadn't he already killed in her defense? And this was how she repaid him? By cuddling up to some broad-shouldered, muscular redhead with a brainless brogue and some ship that likely no one had ever heard of? Listening to his own thoughts, Jack suddenly stopped in his tracks as realization dawned and dread settled in. He was jealous. Wholeheartedly, yet inexplicably, unbelievably jealous. The unusual emotion attacked his senses like a whiff of opium, paralyzing him and rendering him nearly incapable of processing the passionate words spilling from the lips of Aveline as she hollered in the background.
"Who do you think you are, you bloody lug? Do you know who that is? That's Captain Jack Sparrow, the most fearsome, most revered pirate in all the Spanish Main! Hundreds are the tales he can tell of his grand adventures, and you'd be a fool to add yourself to the list of witless imbeciles who have been cut down by the edge of his cunning."
Her statement caught the ears of many tavern patrons, but nestled somewhere dark in the back of Jack's own mind. It was Fearghas' booming response that finally snared his attention.
"Was the most fearsome, lassie. Ol' Captain Jack's all washed up. Wee thing like yerself kenna go on believin' in tales o' banshees and brownies. Wouldn't ye like t'know th' touch o' a *real* man, lass?"
Before the rugged Scot knew what was happening, he found himself flat-backed on the floor, the point of a cutlass nudging his Adam's apple. The simple kick that had knocked his enormous feet out from under him had been so quick, it had gone unseen by most. But Aveline's keen eyes had caught everything, and were now pinned in admiration to the dashing scallywag who had come to her – or was it his own? – defense.
"Hairy fellow, you are," Jack commented roughly, dragging the blade's edge to the neckline of the man's tunic, indicating the burst of red curls emerging from within before dragging the cutlass downward, to the crotch of Fearghas' britches. "I wonder if I shaved a bit you'd still consider yourself a *real* man, hmm?"
Aveline's eyes went as wide as Fearghas went pale, a few beads of sweat dotting his brow as he contemplated the loss of his manhood.
"Or perhaps you're a eunuch already, and your unfortunate physical shortcoming is what has inspired this emasculating display of stalwart bravado." The crowd burst into laughter, and Jack flashed a crooked grin, the low lamplight of the tavern throwing a glint of mischief off one gold tooth. "And if that is the case, you wouldn't particularly mind if I—"
"No!" Fearghas exclaimed, raising two meaty paws in meek defense. "No-no-no, Cap'n Sparrow, anythin' but that! Put me out o' me misery before ye go pilfering the family jewels!"
"Pilfering them?" Jack grimaced, raising his sword. "Now that's an idea even I find abhorrent. Nay, laddie, I believe I'll be letting you keep your priceless pearls today, that you will always remember it as the day you were almost pitilessly castrated by Captain Jack Sparrow."
Another round of laughter and a stunning smile from Jack, and Aveline found herself being led from the rowdy tavern by the hand. Out into the street they went, Jack all but dragging her along as he walked tall, his bearded chin held high, his theatrical swagger somehow more dramatic. But something was wrong. Something was different. Something was… painful.
Giving her arm a slight shake, Aveline hissed a bit under the hard clench of Jack's hand on her wrist. "Captain Sparrow? You're hurting me…" But he simply tugged harder, causing her to lurch forward as he led her deeper and deeper into the unfamiliar town, then into a dark alleyway. "Captain Sparrow?"
He whipped her around before she could even gauge her surroundings, and she instantly felt her back being pressed roughly against the side of a building of some sort, the splintered wood scratching her skin through her gown as Jack's lips suddenly and aggressively plundered her own. His tongue swept out to raid the cavern of her mouth in a kiss so domineering and decadent that she nearly swooned before realizing that she was kissing him back.
Jack felt a surge of need rush straight to his groin as he pinned and possessed her. His hands held her shoulders square against the unyielding wall as he raided her senses with his incursive kiss, high on the adrenaline rush of pure masculine hegemony. Despite his control, however, he was unprepared to feel her tiny hands touch the nape of his neck, sliding up to tangle in his unruly black mane, and unprepared for her innocent mouth to willingly yield its sweetness to him, the petal lips parting with ease, her tongue daring to entwine with his own. Unprepared for her to lean forward as he retreated, seeking to recapture his kiss, to keep him close. Unprepared for the look of confusion and disappointment in her hazy green eyes.
"Jack?"
The solitary note of his name couldn't have been more bewitching had it been uttered by a siren, and Jack narrowed his smoky eyes as he regarded her with curiosity. He dropped his hands to his sides, waggling his fingers a moment before stilling them to raise one hand, which hovered near her breast for a mere moment before advancing, skirting the supple mound beneath the silk, his palm gently teasing her nipple to a peak with nothing but a hair's graze. And all the while, he watched her eyes.
Aveline's breath hitched, her mind whirled. His touch was practically imperceptible, but the energy between them seized her. She closed her eyes in awful delight, unable to face him as she emitted a soft moan of desire as his hand retreated, only to curl that he could skim the backs of his knuckles over the hardened tip of her breast. And to her absolute horror, she shuddered with want. The sensations he had awakened within her with such a seemingly harmless touch so terrified her that she suddenly gripped his wrist, stopping him at once before he drove her completely mad with indecent lust.
Jack couldn't suppress the satisfied grin that crept over him, and he was glad she had kept her eyes shut to him that she could not witness the absolute gloating he was certain shone in his eyes. "Something wrong, love?" he asked huskily, oblivious to the teasing tone that complicated his otherwise simple question.
Her eyelids flew open, her gaze unsure. She breathed heavily, the little pants bringing an array of exertive activities to Jack's dirty mind. He imagined her, flushed and breathless, her pale thighs spread for him, shaky knees supporting her as she straddled his face…
"Did I make you uncomfortable?" he rasped.
She nodded. T'was true. The warm honey slicking the juncture of her thighs was, if nothing else, dreadfully uncomfortable. As was the coil of need that had begun tightening low in her belly…
Smiling proudly, Jack bowed his head, his damp lips all but touching her ear as his warm breath tickled the sensitive shell. "I imagine it will be far worse the next time you decide to invite the attentions of another man. Savvy?"
The last world sent a hard shock coursing through her veins and she nodded weakly, practically stuttering her response. "S-savvy."
Grinning at her compliance, Jack pivoted handsomely, moving away from her with a sway of the hips that begged – no, not begged, never begged – demanded she follow. And slowly but surely, she did, followed him all the way back to the Pearl, the wetness between her legs greasing the journey a bit. Lord, but she was dreadfully uncomfortable…
"Captain!" Gibbs' voice called, rough with worry, from the rail of the Pearl as Jack and Aveline approached.
"Aye, mate?" Jack hollered back, raising a hand to shield his black eyes from the glare of the setting sun.
The first mate frowned, gesturing frantically for Jack to come aboard. The captain picked up his pace, reaching a hand back to Aveline, who grasped it tentatively and allowed him to all but drag her aboard. When they reached the deck, he released her, crossing the distance between him and Gibbs with a few long strides and taking the spyglass the shorter man offered. "What is it?" he asked gruffly, lifting the spyglass to one eye.
"We've got company."