Wow! So many reviews- this must be a record- twenty reviews in one day! You guys rule! I'll reply to everyone at the end of the chapter. If you can follow this next boring page of Meryl's ramblings, you are worthy of a degree in psychology. The purpose of this is mostly just to set up Meryl's emotional complexities for the next couple of chapters, which tend to focus on jerking around the abovementioned and Morgan as well, though neither are really connected to Jack.
Well, I've said too much as is. I apologise for the boringness of this instalment.
On with the madness!
***
Meryl stood up on deck, not wanting to go back down to the galley. It wasn't because the belly of the ship was dark, stuffy, and full of men with no decency who catcalled her every two seconds, no. Things like that had never bothered her. But she was afraid to go down the passageway to her room- afraid because Bart was there.
It wasn't that she didn't want to see him, I was just that she didn't want to see him. This puzzled her- this need to be far away from him regardless of a desire to be near him. He puzzled her- the things he said, the way he said them. He was always absorbing her shove-offs with such a silly look on his face, like a puppy begging for table scraps.
Her eyelids began to droop… it was late. Very late. She would need to go below decks for some sleep soon, though she knew Bart would try to hinder this. Just like Jack always did. And then he would whine when she denied him any such pleasure. Men are such babies. All men. Bart, Jack…
Oh Jack. Oh dear. What am I supposed to do now? He seems so conventional now. How am I supposed to figure this out? I don't know. And I don't have much time to figure it out, either.
Jack will be with me soon. I'll see him soon. Somehow this didn't excite her much at all. It wasn't that there was anything- anyone- who had excited her more than him, it was just that now, now after meeting Bart, Jack seemed so predictable. His quirky idiosyncrasies seemed childish, his piratical legacy dull.
Now Bart… he was forever changing. And as they say, change is good, though Meryl, in this particular instance, tended not to agree. Such a saying did not fit with Bart. Bart… he is so infuriating!
She would try to not let her heart be changed by this, and he would constantly be changing his own heart to please her. She would perpetually change her mind about him, while his own will remained unchanging. She wished all this could change, and yet he wouldn't have cared for any change to anything about her. That was the nature of their relationship. And even that hadn't changed.
"Meryl, m'lady." Bart's voice floated across the deck with a quiet dignity characteristic of the one man and no other.
She did not turn around, but instead, said very softly, "Captain."
"We should be reaching the Imprintor sometime late tonight." His hand slid around her waist with this clingy sort of magnetic attraction that Meryl couldn't decide if she loved or hated. "Come below with me. I want to talk to you."
She gulped. "Whatever it is you have to say, just say it here."
"Do you still not trust me, m'lady?"
"No."
Bart laughed warmly, then raised his hands. "On my honour as a man of God, I mean you naught but good."
Meryl snorted. "Man of God indeed."
"Again you don't trust me."
"I may have good reason not to." She smiled at him, though the hostility in her eyes could not be disguised.
"Do me great honour, then." His hand removed itself from her waist. "Trust me this once. Come with me." And he made for the steps that descended below decks.
Meryl twisted the material of her red damask skirts between her grubby broken fingernails and bit down on her lip hard, drawing blood. She knew, from every instinct in every corner of her mind, that going with him, that trusting him was a silly and foolish act. And yet, another voice of reason, not gut response, but something else, was telling her different. Call it fate, stupidity, intuition, or even God if you will. Some otherworldly force pushed her to follow his fleeting form down the stairs.
Now it was up to him…
***
Review Replies-
Mayya-
My oh my that was a lot of reviews! I'm glad you updated your stories- I'll read them berry soon! Well, that Lydia thing really puts shyte into perspective.
Queen's Own Fool-
Wow, thank you. I'm glad you like it- I wonder if its not too cliché?
Elentari II-
Hooray! You guys are all too nice.
Ashlie-
Oh, I'm sorry if you're confuzzled- um, ok, let me try this: I assume by 'four women' you mean Meryl, Morgan, Amber, and… who else? Anamaria… only a little, so that doesn't count. The reason they all have the hots for Jack is because I do, at the moment, and I control the story… mwhahahaha! Sorry, well, Morgan and Amber were on a ship that Jack attacked (different occasions) and how Meryl got there is explained.
Cassandra-
Oh, that's not very nice. *sniff*
Erin Richards-
Hard place indeed. Sadly, my breasts do nothing to pull the world out of its shortage. *sigh* Well, no, really it's more like 'what breasts?' Pathetic, it is. Hmmm… multiple Johnny movies sounds fun. Multiple Johnny anything sounds… I'll stop.
PLEASE REVIEW AND THANK YOU TO THOSE OF YOU WHO ALREADY HAVE- I'M COMING UP ON MY 100th REVIEW NOW!
-SQ
