Disclaimer: POTC does not belong to me. So sad.
A/N: Thank you so very much for letting me know how you like my story. The reviews are wonderful and I'm so happy that so many people like what I'm doing.
Okay, now Chapter 11.
The pirate knitted his brow. "It was you," he said, his words sounding more like an accusation than a question.
Ana rose from where she sat on the ground. "It was," she answered keeping her eyes on the floor.
"You might have mentioned that."
There was an edge in the pirate's voice. He was angry, but trying not to show it. He was failing. Anamaria did not know what to say, so she said nothing.
"Well," Sparrow prompted.
Ana could feel a hundred stories coming into her head. There were countless reasons that she could hide behind, but she had lied to the pirate once already. She brought her hand to her chest. She had never imagined that weaving a tale for a pirate and being on the receiving end of his disappointment would hurt so much. "I was . . . I was afraid that you wouldn't remember me, or . . . or that you wouldn't want to remember me."
The silence in the room was swirling around her ears and threatening to smother her. She could feel the heat rising to her face. Her heart was trying to cry, but her mind was bottling the tears and telling her heart that she be damned if this pirate saw her weakness. Ana clenched her fists at her sides and closed her eyes.
When he finally did speak, the pirate's voice sounded very far away despite the fact that he stood mere feet from Ana. "The memory of that woman, of you, made the horror of that place livable."
Tentatively, Ana looked up at Sparrow. Her eyes met his. She searched those deep dark pools in an attempt to decipher what he was feeling. However, instead of sadness or anger, she saw nothing. Ana briefly marveled at the pirate's ability to so mask his emotions. She knew how that Spaniard had hurt Sparrow To look utterly void of all feeling while recalling that torture, Sparrow must have learned a very long time ago to never show his inner turmoil.
"You should have told me."
His voice was flat, and Ana knew that he was saying goodbye. She raised her chin.
Sparrow did not say another word. He turned and silently left the study. She could not hear his footsteps on the wooden hallway floor, but she could almost feel when he was gone.
Ana wrapped her slender fingers around the neck of the vase sitting next to her husband's chair. In one fluid motion, she threw the vase as hard as she could towards the fireplace. The crash of breaking glass reverberated through the study as the thousands of tiny shards fell to the floor. Her mind had run out of bottles for her tears and her heart was winning. She covered her face with her hands and wept uncontrollably for what seemed like an eternity even though only a few minutes passed.
Her lip quivering, Ana gazed up again at her husband's portrait. "So much for that," she said aloud, "guess it's just you and me again."
"Señora, do not despair. You are not alone."
Ana's brown eyes widened, and every hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
"Don Antonio," she said as she turned to face the one man in this world that she hated with all of the fires of hell.
He stood leaning casually against the door frame. He was smiling, but that smile did not reach his cold gray eyes.
"Tell me, what would your husband think of his wife taking a worthless pirate to bed?" the Spaniard questioned as he stepped closer, the malevolent smile still plastered across his face.
"I take offense, Don Antonio. What do you mean by coming into my house and saying such things?" Ana hoped against hope, that the Spaniard had just haphazardly wandered into her home and was trying to intimidate her. It was possible, that he knew nothing about her harboring Sparrow. Of course, it was also possible that Sarah had broken down at the fort and told the commandant the whole story.
"Please, stop with this charade," the Spaniard said with mock civility, "although you are quite the actress, I've just come from your bedroom."
"And?"
"And, dear lady, there is blood on the sheets. Are you injured?"
Ana set her jaw, determined not to respond to the filthy Spaniard's allegation. She could not help the feelings of desperation that were fighting to take control. She was caught. It meant nothing that she had not actually spent the night in bed with the pirate. Don Antonio could prove that Sparrow had been here. With proof like this, he could easily scare Sarah into confessing everything else about the pirate's visit. He was almost scaring Ana into confessing everything.
"You do not have to answer," he continued shrugging, "I'm sure you can wait and answer these questions when Capitán Norrington or your brother ask them. Aiding and abetting, I believe is what they call all of this in your language."
Ana pursed her lips. At least, Don Antonio did not realize that Prescott had anything to do with hiding the pirate. She found small relief in that. However, the commandant was threatening to turn her in. Prescott might not be able to keep her out of trouble if the charges were brought against her by someone with as much "prestige" as Don Antonio. The conniving Spaniard could probably buy her conviction. Ana was beginning to worry, but she was not going to let this swine see that he was getting to her.
"Imagine what it will do to your brother's career, not to mention his reputation, when his precious little sister is hung for treason."
"Treason!?" She spat the word.
"Yes, Señora, that is what the law calls it when you help an enemy of your King."
Ana's heart was hammering so hard against her chest that she was worried it would break through her ribs. Her throat constricted. Don Antonio was right. A court would certainly find her guilty of treason, especially due to the feeling the locals had towards pirates.
Shaking her head, Ana banished all thoughts of the noose in the town square. She was not the only one who had something to hide from the townspeople.
"I wonder, Don Antonio, what would people think if they were ever told what kind of a man you really are?"
The Spaniard's visage darkened, "what are you talking about?"
"Well, perhaps the way you run your prison is acceptable in Spain, but the Englishmen, who's hospitality you are now enjoying, would not tolerate your disregard for human life."
"You would not dare!" the Spaniard shouted.
Ana let a smirk slowly spread across her face, not because she was pleased with her inscrutable behavior, but because the tables were starting to turn. "Wouldn't I? I happen to know Vice Admiral Fornin. I could just pay him a visit tomorrow and tell him a story about a little island I visited last year. I'm fairly certain that he would be just as disgusted with your brutality as I was. Then, he would send you and your men on their way and you would be forced to go to Spain without Jack Sparrow. What would their Excellencies think of that?"
Don Cornado was furious. Ana could almost see the steam rising off of his reddening face.
"I do not think your King would allow you to remain at la Cerradura if you cannot keep track of one stupid pirate."
Cornado grabbed hold of Ana's shoulders, "you dare to threaten me?"
Ana pulled herself free from his claws, "that is not a threat, you monster. It is a promise."
The Spaniard pulled himself up to his full height and regained some of his composure. He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, "one thing I have learned from pirates, Señora, is that the dead tell no tales."
Anamaria gasped as the commandant drew his sword.
"My dear woman, everyone at the fort already thinks that the pirate has kidnapped you. Who do you think they will blame when they find your body?" Cornado laughed.
Ana backed away. "Your insane."
The Spaniard laughed even harder, "perhaps but you are not going to be around to tell anyone."
Ana's eyes widened as she backed into the wall. She was trapped. She was going to die.
Cornado's strode across the room and plunged his blade into Ana's stomach. White lights exploded in front of Ana's eyes and the searing pain forced the air from her lungs. Don Antonio stood mere inched from her face and stared into her frightened eyes, "make your peace with God, Señora," he whispered. Slowly he pulled his sword from Ana's flesh. She dropped to her knees, clutching her wound. She felt her own warm blood.
The Spaniard re-sheathed his sword and left the study chuckling to himself.
Alone, Anamaria crumpled to the floor.
That's it for now. I do love a good cliffhanger and I hope you don't mind too much :) Don't forget to drop me a review. I really want to know how you think I'm doing with this little story.