Hello kiddies, if you noticed or didn't, whatever the case may be, I
switched the rating over to R because things are going to get a
little...steamy ^_~ this is one of the last chapters, though! I'm
suffering withdrawal already *sob* I've had so much fun with this! I hope
you've enjoyed reading it so far.
Tabitha nudged away for just a moment, emerald eyes still closed, breathily letting his name dance across her lusciously plump lips. She tasted of honey and life and flowers- some tropic summer escape that was so instinctively craved by him, he'd never seen it standing idly before him and now that it was realized, could never go without it again. She looked so divine in this moment, almost unearthly. Her loosened tendrils fell across and framed her delicate face, the faintest trace of a smile curling her mouth and creasing her crescent eyes.
"Jack..."
The eyes drew upen as he stared, and his heart hammered against his chest at the dimension of passion they unveiled. Not since his earliest childhood recollections could he remember the innate thrill of real anticipation that rose and shattered a cool and calculating exterior. It was unnerving, dangerous, and more exciting than any adventure or fortune a loveless sea could wash your way. His shaking hand reached up to brush the fallen locks away, but she stepped back from his touch. Without deteering from her grapple into his pupils, she reached behind her back and tugged at the knotted cords fastening the gauzy ivory gown together. Unbunching and loosening the fabric, until it just barely clung to the sensuous curves of her body. Slowly, teasing, torturing her delicate hands traveled forward up her stomach, grazing the delicious contours of her breasts, to her bare shoulders where the tenacious sleeves hung for dear life and stripped them away, the rememnants of the dress following.
"I think e's comin' out of 't!" A deep voice announced, relieved.
"Jus' throw on another bucket t' be sure," another added, and before he was keen enough to advise otherwise, the icy sting of freezing water sending him reeling forward with an aghast yelp. Dripping from head to toe he sat up, head pounding, every muscle aching. Ugh, what the...?
"We were gettin' scared you weren't ne'er wakin' up," said bucket- wielding Pip, in the middle of a cluster around his bedroom floor.
"Jus' a lit'l too much to drink 's all," he mumbled, stumbling up to his feet. The room was pretty much how he vaguely remembered it: empty bottles, broken glass, tossled chairs- save for one thing. "Tabitha?"
"She's gone, cap'n."
"Well bring 'ere in," he said sternly, collecting the little bits of dignity that had scattered like the shattered bottle about the floor. "I need to...ask...'er something."
Their faces fell sullen, facing the floorboards as if choreographed, shuffling their feet uncomfortably. "She ain't jus' gone from 'ere, cap'n," the little potato peeler piped up once more, "she's been kidnapped right off th' bow o' th' Pearl."
"What?!" No one, not even Jack himself, was custom to an unnerving outburst from the collected, albeit quirky, captian. The devil himself could've appeared off the port and threatened to cast the ship into Hell, and he would've just kept on steering.
"Last night we 'eard an awful commotion up on th' deck, so we hurried on up- there was this awful lookin' man with' no hair an' these wild blue eyes," he described, jumping up and down with enthusiasm as he recounted the fateful story, "an' in 'is arms was Miss McGovern, all slumped o'er with 'er hair hangin' all o'er 'er face... I thought fer a minute she was dead! But then 'e jumped back into 'is boat with 'er, an' I doubt he'd go to all that trouble to haul a corpse off..."
"Why th' bloody Hell didn't you try and stop him?" He demanded, hand instinctively going for his sword as he stared down the crew.
"We did," said the hulking Rex, stepping in to defend the miniature buccaneer. "He single handedly killed five 'vus 'fore he escaped int' th' night."
Jack's shoulders slumped forward, as clarity soberly sunk into his gut. It shouldn't have been the crew fighting and dying to save Tabitha. If he hadn't decided to drink himself within an inch of his life, she would still be here, nestled into the bed, with Thoreau's hideous cadaver sinking like lead to the bottom of the sea. This went beyond not being worthy of The Heiress. It went beyond doing anything stupid. With selfishness, he'd doomed her. "Who?"
"Pete, Peter, Pipey, Sam, an' Stinky Pete." They removed their various hats and bandanas, standing silently in respect to the fallen. Jack followed suit, unwrapping the red scarf that held back his dark dreadlocks and covered the nasty gash from a nasty fight back in the 40's over a mast.
"Good men, good men," he nodded, striding over to retrieve his worn blue coat from the chair and swinging it over his shoulders. "Anyone else in 'ere know a Mr. James William Thoreau?"
"Some scurvy British Navy cap'n," Rex spat, re-adjusting the hat onto his scantly-white haired head.
"Aye, 'til recently," Jack mused, his signature stagger carrying him to the door, where he paused to face them. "Thoreau 'as a score t' settle, e'er since we ran int' each other during a skirmish up near Cuba. Years back. There's this terrible sulfer stuff that bubbles up from a volcanic island 'round there, he liked t' use it t' torture whoe'er was gettin' in 'is way at th' moment. Men, women, children... he was an equal opportunity sadist. So when I caught 'im plundering a native isle under th' British flag, I gave 'im a taste of his own medicine."
"'s that why he's so ugly?" Pip asked thoughtfully.
"No, he was always ugly. Set course for Eden's Rock, full speed," he dictated, vanishing to the neglected deck.
Tabitha nudged away for just a moment, emerald eyes still closed, breathily letting his name dance across her lusciously plump lips. She tasted of honey and life and flowers- some tropic summer escape that was so instinctively craved by him, he'd never seen it standing idly before him and now that it was realized, could never go without it again. She looked so divine in this moment, almost unearthly. Her loosened tendrils fell across and framed her delicate face, the faintest trace of a smile curling her mouth and creasing her crescent eyes.
"Jack..."
The eyes drew upen as he stared, and his heart hammered against his chest at the dimension of passion they unveiled. Not since his earliest childhood recollections could he remember the innate thrill of real anticipation that rose and shattered a cool and calculating exterior. It was unnerving, dangerous, and more exciting than any adventure or fortune a loveless sea could wash your way. His shaking hand reached up to brush the fallen locks away, but she stepped back from his touch. Without deteering from her grapple into his pupils, she reached behind her back and tugged at the knotted cords fastening the gauzy ivory gown together. Unbunching and loosening the fabric, until it just barely clung to the sensuous curves of her body. Slowly, teasing, torturing her delicate hands traveled forward up her stomach, grazing the delicious contours of her breasts, to her bare shoulders where the tenacious sleeves hung for dear life and stripped them away, the rememnants of the dress following.
"I think e's comin' out of 't!" A deep voice announced, relieved.
"Jus' throw on another bucket t' be sure," another added, and before he was keen enough to advise otherwise, the icy sting of freezing water sending him reeling forward with an aghast yelp. Dripping from head to toe he sat up, head pounding, every muscle aching. Ugh, what the...?
"We were gettin' scared you weren't ne'er wakin' up," said bucket- wielding Pip, in the middle of a cluster around his bedroom floor.
"Jus' a lit'l too much to drink 's all," he mumbled, stumbling up to his feet. The room was pretty much how he vaguely remembered it: empty bottles, broken glass, tossled chairs- save for one thing. "Tabitha?"
"She's gone, cap'n."
"Well bring 'ere in," he said sternly, collecting the little bits of dignity that had scattered like the shattered bottle about the floor. "I need to...ask...'er something."
Their faces fell sullen, facing the floorboards as if choreographed, shuffling their feet uncomfortably. "She ain't jus' gone from 'ere, cap'n," the little potato peeler piped up once more, "she's been kidnapped right off th' bow o' th' Pearl."
"What?!" No one, not even Jack himself, was custom to an unnerving outburst from the collected, albeit quirky, captian. The devil himself could've appeared off the port and threatened to cast the ship into Hell, and he would've just kept on steering.
"Last night we 'eard an awful commotion up on th' deck, so we hurried on up- there was this awful lookin' man with' no hair an' these wild blue eyes," he described, jumping up and down with enthusiasm as he recounted the fateful story, "an' in 'is arms was Miss McGovern, all slumped o'er with 'er hair hangin' all o'er 'er face... I thought fer a minute she was dead! But then 'e jumped back into 'is boat with 'er, an' I doubt he'd go to all that trouble to haul a corpse off..."
"Why th' bloody Hell didn't you try and stop him?" He demanded, hand instinctively going for his sword as he stared down the crew.
"We did," said the hulking Rex, stepping in to defend the miniature buccaneer. "He single handedly killed five 'vus 'fore he escaped int' th' night."
Jack's shoulders slumped forward, as clarity soberly sunk into his gut. It shouldn't have been the crew fighting and dying to save Tabitha. If he hadn't decided to drink himself within an inch of his life, she would still be here, nestled into the bed, with Thoreau's hideous cadaver sinking like lead to the bottom of the sea. This went beyond not being worthy of The Heiress. It went beyond doing anything stupid. With selfishness, he'd doomed her. "Who?"
"Pete, Peter, Pipey, Sam, an' Stinky Pete." They removed their various hats and bandanas, standing silently in respect to the fallen. Jack followed suit, unwrapping the red scarf that held back his dark dreadlocks and covered the nasty gash from a nasty fight back in the 40's over a mast.
"Good men, good men," he nodded, striding over to retrieve his worn blue coat from the chair and swinging it over his shoulders. "Anyone else in 'ere know a Mr. James William Thoreau?"
"Some scurvy British Navy cap'n," Rex spat, re-adjusting the hat onto his scantly-white haired head.
"Aye, 'til recently," Jack mused, his signature stagger carrying him to the door, where he paused to face them. "Thoreau 'as a score t' settle, e'er since we ran int' each other during a skirmish up near Cuba. Years back. There's this terrible sulfer stuff that bubbles up from a volcanic island 'round there, he liked t' use it t' torture whoe'er was gettin' in 'is way at th' moment. Men, women, children... he was an equal opportunity sadist. So when I caught 'im plundering a native isle under th' British flag, I gave 'im a taste of his own medicine."
"'s that why he's so ugly?" Pip asked thoughtfully.
"No, he was always ugly. Set course for Eden's Rock, full speed," he dictated, vanishing to the neglected deck.