Home from church and shopping and it's time to write! Of course, I should be working on this pointless assignment for my Creative Writing class (which is due tomorrow, on Monday), but I am more in the mood to work on this story instead. I know you guys must be just DYING to figure out what's going to happen next, right? Haha, well, guess I should let you get on with it then. Enjoy!
P.S. Question for MLE: raises eyebrows with an intrigued smile How did you know my middle name?
Secrets of the CaribbeanWritten By: Riley Barton
[Chapter Twenty-Four]
Scarlett stared out to sea with a wistful look in her eyes, the shining moon above reflected in her dark green orbs. Her long blonde hair was pulled back with a leather strip and her white billowing shirt rippled in the ocean breeze. She stood barefooted on the portico that extended from the western side of the downstairs living room with a few simple candles burning in the room behind her. Dried paint covered the top of her tanned hands and flecks of dark blue paint decorated her pant legs and shirt.
Growing somewhat cold, she turned and headed back inside. She left the portico doors open so she could see out, and settled back onto the wooden stool set before the burning fire in the brick fireplace. She picked up her paintbrush and the smoothly carved paint pallet, dipping the brush into the white dollop of paint. Scarlett tilted her head to the side and faintly ran the brush across the dark ocean painted onto the white board. Her brow furrowed in concentration, her fingers flicking the brush back and forth. She was so absorbed in her work she failed to hear the footsteps of an approaching individual and see the lithe form move around her small workspace before the fire and stand behind her. Finished with the ocean, she set the paintbrush aside and picked up another, this time dipping it into the red paint.
"So much anger."
Scarlett jumped, thankful her brush had not run across the board and ruined the painting. She closed her eyes as she set the brush and pallet aside. "There are more ways to get out your anger than by words, Jack," she whispered, wiping away a smearing of red paint from her thumb. "Painting just happens to be the other way I let out mine."
"Are ye th' one who painted the picture hangin' above th' fireplace in the parlour?"
Scarlett felt her heart skip a beat. She knew of which painting he spoke. She had painted that picture a month after she returned here; just over three months after the day Jack had left her. It was a simple painting that had taken her only two days to finish. It was of a sparrow flying above a storm-ravaged sea with one of its golden feathers drifting down onto the ocean waves below. "I did," she replied, getting to her feet and turning around to face him; she was not going to give him the pleasure of knowing he was getting to her. "I finished it a couple of weeks before Carver was born." Her bare feet felt cold on the wooden floor, and she moved closer to the fire in hopes of warming them. Jack shifted his position and went to sit in a chair not far from the burning fire.
Scarlett watched as he slowly lowered himself into the chair, his face not giving away his discomfort. He had only started moving around earlier that morning and no matter how much anyone tried to convince him to rest, he would not. "I've been in that bed for too damn long," he had stated before walking out the door and down the stairs. Scarlett had not been surprised when he went straight for the kitchen searching for rum. Now, however, she could see the wound still hurt him; he was favouring his wounded side.
"What are you still doing up?" she asked reluctantly, hoping he wouldn't take the question to be one of care. "Aubri would blow a hole through the ceiling if she saw you out of bed."
"Do ye really hate me that much, Scarlett?" Jack asked with his eyebrows raised.
Scarlett frowned; of course he would turn the tables on her. She shook her head and walked past him to the portico. She would rather be cold outside rather than be warm inside with Jack Sparrow. She leaned back against the portico's railing and flipped her blonde ponytail over her shoulder.
"Come on, love," Jack said, joining her on the portico. "Tis only a simple question."
Scarlett's mouth twitched dangerously and a look came into her eyes. She flexed the fingers on her left hand, itching to punch him right where Rafe's sword had struck him. That would definitely put him in bed for another week or two. Already he was pushing his luck as it was. "Don't make matters worse than they already are, Sparrow," she said. She glared at him through narrowed eyes. "If you're hoping to break me, tough. I don't need you anymore, and you apparently don't need me, so let's just leave it at that and get on with our lives. You can return to your pillaging and plundering, and Carver and I can go back to how things were without you in the picture."
The cockiness that was usually present in Jack Sparrow's dark eyes was gone. "Is that what ye want, lass?" he asked huskily.
"More than anything," she replied without any hesitation.
The window curtains billowed open like a ghost, the silken fabric wafting gently on the air before settling again. The open balcony windows in Scarlett's room let in the playful breeze without any restraints, and the wind jumped at the chance. It played with her hair resting on the pillow, it weaved in and out of her bed covers, and it tugged at the clothes thrown carelessly to the floor. The woman sleeping in her bed remained oblivious to the wind and its playful spirit, merely shifting onto her back and pulling the covers closer to her chin. Finding nothing more of interest there, the wind left the room and soared through the sky until it found something else to play with. It did not have to wait long.
Finding its next source of entertainment, the wind floated down to the long hair and billowing shirts of a line of shadowed figures making their way across the front lawn of the grand estate. Only the gentle snapping of absent twigs and the faint 'clink' of a sword could be heard above the winds laughter. The wind slipped under the men's clothing, sending shivers down their spines, and brushed its fingers against their faces.
Not making a sound, the line of burly men crept toward the manor with evil grins on their faces. The man at the front came to a stop before the front door, peering up to the stories above. Finding an open balcony window, he grinned and motioned for the man standing behind him, Marcinek, to get up there. This rag-tag group of pirates may be known for flashy entrances with their swords drawn, but this bunch were smarter than to let their prey know they were there. No, they were far craftier than that.
Marcinek nodded his understanding and remove a long coil of rigging from one of his belt loops. He tied a large stone to one end of the rope, swung it a few times above his head in a wide oval arc, and let it fly. The rope soared straight and true, looping around one of the balcony rungs. He tugged on it before stepping back and letting a small man by the name of Svec take over. The thin and small man gripped the rope and began to nimbly clamber up it with only the strength of his arms. His legs swung back and forth wildly as he climbed, the muscles in his arms straining. He reached the top and swung over the railing, dropping to the balcony's tile floor with a soft thud. He peered into the room beyond and stopped as he saw movement in the bed to his right. He didn't move, waiting to see if she would wake. He smiled when she returned to her slumber. Svec knotted the rope to the railing and motioned the 'OK' down to his mates and captain.
While Ansgar, Marcinek, and the rest of the Cobra's crew climbed the rope, Svec ventured inside the room to investigate. He slunk over to the bed and bent down on one knee beside it. His eyes widened in delight upon seeing the woman asleep on the mattress with her face turned toward him. Blonde hair spilled over the bed's side and trailed down to the carpet. He reached out and rubbed the soft hair between two of his fingers. It had been weeks since he had been with a woman…
A rough hand gripped his shoulder warningly. Svec looked back and found Garret Ansgar glowering at him. Without a word Ansgar pointed out the door, ordering the man away. The pirate did so grudgingly, longing casting a quick glance at the sleeping woman.
Ansgar looked down at the woman and felt his stomach turn over. This woman was the one he had sought, and where she was, Captain Jack Sparrow would be. "Revenge is so sweet," he whispered to her. A hard look came into his eyes. "You and that pirate took what was precious to me. Tis only fair I return the favour." By now his entire crew had climbed the rope and was lingering in the room. Ansgar signaled that Marcinek was to remain in this room and watch her while the others searched the house. Within a matter of minutes the silent house was swarming with pirates, and not a single sleeping inhabitant was even aware of it.
Author's Note: It's been almost eight days since I last updated, so I had to post something. I've been working on this every chance I got today and this was how it ended up. I would work on it more but, then it would be another month before I could even finish it. You see, I am sorry to say that after this chapter is updated I won't be able to even start working on the next chapter until December. My creative writing class is doing this write-a-novel-in-one-month thing. So, all of my time has to be spent working on that. Don't even think this story is over. I have too much going on this story. The only thing is it won't be updated for a little while. If I feel as if I'm ahead in the novel thing I'll work on it, but otherwise… Anyway, I hope you guys don't mind the chapter's shortness! Please review! I need them to get me going through the next few weeks!!