Chapter: A Riddle of Sorts

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Jack watched the woman he knew as Miss Cuthburt shift fretfully on his bed, his brow creasing at her restlessness. She was, after all, unconscious. After she dropped limply onto the floor, much to his surprise, Jack had grumbled sullenly, intending to leave her where she fell, but after Anamaria had shot him a meaningful and slightly threatening glance, scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his cabin, dropping her unceremoniously and none too gently on the hard mattress of his cot. Th' woman bloody slapped me after I apologized! Jack remembered fuming to himself. An' people don' get an apology from Captain Jack Sparrow very often!  Now, as he sat within his cabin and twirling one dreadlock thoughtfully, Jack had the time to examine this mystery of a girl more closely, narrowing his eyes and obscuring their smoky depths as he did so.

While he had thought of her as passively attractive at first glance, Jack now found the exotic elegance that encompassed her features curiously fascinating. His eyes swept leisurely across her small frame, noting in admiration the manner in which her rose petal-like lips were slightly open in slumber, how her neck curved artistically to connect with her shoulders, the delicate curve of her left breast he could spy through a slight opening in her nightgown, and the slender ankle and calve protruding from the folds of her robe. The cap she had so carefully placed on her head had been somewhat dislodged, and Jack could see a shadow of dark hair contrasting starkly with the tone of her skin at the nape of her neck, and he found himself staring at that unlikely spot, marveling in the few wispy tendrils that were visible from his viewpoint.

Snapping himself from his state of reverie, Jack hastily swiped a jug-like bottle of amber liquid from his desk, leaning back in his chair, uncorking it, and raising his bottle to the unconscious girl. "Well, love. It looks like it's goin' t' be a long night for both o' us." He tipped back and allowed a sizable portion of rum to flow down his throat, hoping it would quell his interest in this Miss Cuthburt.

-

Sophia drifted from hazy nothingness to crystal-clear dreams and memories and back again as she lay unconscious in an unknown bed. Every so often she would mumble incomprehensible phrases or emit a quiet sort of whimpering sigh and the fair skin of her forehead would furrow as if in thought. Broken flashes of objects and events blinked in rapid succession across her closed eyelids, the pictures senseless in order and meaning, and if brain had been working normally they would have reminded her of a bad novel.

The sporadic images abruptly ceased as a once familiar but now long forgotten memory resurfaced within her mind, and Sophia jerked as a recognizable pain burst across the front of her torso when the memory took hold.

-

Six-year-old Sophia lay whimpering on her bed, sobbing as the new sensation of intense pain wracked her young body. Her father had carried her into her room and placed her gently on the sheets, apologizing briefly before ripping open the small shift she wore and staring in absolute horror at her torso. "No. . .  Not again. Not her." He had whispered.

Sophia had fallen off the docks and into the cold depths of the harbor. She'd never learned to swim, so she did not resurface and her father dove immediately in after her. When they again reached the surface and blessed oxygen, Sophia was screaming. Not in fear but in a pain so intense that she lost all knowledge of her surroundings.

She now lay scratching hopelessly at her burning chest and stomach, crying and calling for her mother. Lady Cuthburt ran in, hair askew, took one look at her daughter's wreathing form, and fell in a heap of skirts onto the floor. It was only then that Sophia dared to look at her body.

Strange welts spanned from between her nonexistent breasts to just below her navel, their angry red color frightening the young girl and causing her to cry out louder than even before. Sophia could feel their alien ridges with her fingertips, and it seemed that each angle and crevasse emanated the waves of raw pain that coursed through her limbs.

Sophia's father had begun to teach Sophia to read roughly a year ago, and she had caught on fast. Lord Cuthburt was a patient and rewarding teacher, and his daughter loved him for it and in turn adored their reading sessions.

Sophia thought she recognized some of the welts as words.

After around five minutes, the wounds disappeared, and Sophia was left with no effects of the event, and found herself wondering if she'd dreamed the entire thing up. But no, there was her mother, being revived from her faint by one of the maids. Once she was restored to her healthy state, Sophia could hear her parents talking outside the door.

"Every woman in your family? Good Lord, Esteban! Why didn't you tell me?" Her mother's voice was hysterical, but her father's tone was considerably more quiet and calming. This interaction completely described their relationship. Her mother was fluttery and indiscreet, and her father was the rock in which his wife could lean.

"Because, darling, I knew you would act as you are now, and I wasn't sure if she even had it."

"Had what? What exactly is it?" Lady Cuthburt sounded on the verge of fainting all over again. Her voice was high and breathless. Sophia strained to hear her father's reply, but he had dropped his voice.

"It's a riddle of sorts. It gives clues to something, and in order for Sophia to remain safe I can't reveal what it is now. Not even to you, dearest Chelsea."

Sophia heard a sharp crack through the door. Her mother had slapped him.

-

Sophia groaned as a sharp sliver of sunlight shone across her eyes. Because of her fainting escapade, she assumed, her head felt as if it was going to explode. She guessed that she had slept at least three hours. Blinking, Sophia sat up, the sheets that had been covering her upper body falling rumpled into her lap. Her robe had come untied and the lacing of her nightgown was indecently loose. Hastily, she righted her clothing and cap, before examining her surroundings.

She seemed to be in a small cabin of sorts. The floor and some of the walls were wood, a rich dark brown, with surprisingly intricate carvings along the trim. She saw a desk in the corner, on which a compass, maps, and other trinkets and documents lay. Sophia looked out the window directly across from her, and started when all she saw was the clear blue ocean. Oh damn. That's wonderful. There was a door to her right, which she assumed led to a bathroom, closet, or outside. A moderately sized bookshelf stood against the wall. Sophia could make out the works of Shakespeare and other classics along with several books concerning the history of Pirates.

Pirates. That's right, she had been kidnapped by a pirate. Captain Jack Sparrow, to be exact, the most feared pirate in the Caribbean.

The absurdity of the situation made Sophia's senses acute, and she heard a soft clinking sound in the corner of the room, by a second door. She turned to find a pair of dark eyes, Jack Sparrow's eyes, staring at her. She shrieked and promptly fell of the bed.

"Don't stare at me like that, you bloody pirate!" Sophia glared menacingly at Jack as he sat motionless in his chair, bottle of amber liquid in hand, watching her get up and perch back on the bed with a slight smile quirking at his lips.

"Don' go insultin' me, lass. After all, your th' one who slapped me after I apologized for draggin' you on me ship." Sophia detected a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Not tha' I minded, o' course. You're lovely t' watch sleep." Sophia watched his hands as they waved about expressively. Very strange. He grinned cheekily at her.

Sophia chose to ignore his words lest she issue him yet another clout across the face. She stared him down, her steely eyes narrowed in what she hoped was a defiant expression. In actuality, she was quite shaken, the events of the past several hours finally sinking in. I might never see my family again. . .

Still, she managed to keep her voice from wavering. "Mr. Sparrow, I – " 

"Captain." Jack interrupted, taking a swig of his beloved rum.

"I beg your pardon?"

"This charmin' vessel be me ship, The Black Pearl. I am in charge o' it. Therefore, you will call me Captain, savvy?" Jack hadn't meant for his voice to sound so cold and unforgiving, but he was already beginning to associate annoyance with this exasperating woman. The fascinating quality he had found in her in sleep and the brief silence when she had awoke was quickly dissipating.

Sophia shrank back at his tone, her own loosing its previous boldness. "Well then, Captain Sparrow, I would like to know where you are taking me. And if you are not taking me anywhere, I would like to know how much longer I shall live." Her voice faltered at the last question.

Jack watched the girl, noticing with slight amusement her wavering confidence. She thinks I'm goin' t' kill 'er. He mused leisurely. No, killing hostages was not Jack's way. Although, when his luck was good, seducing and having his way with them was, but he sensed that this woman would not be one of his usual conquests. He tugged on his mustache as he studied her.

She had pulled her knees to her chest, and was now looking at him with scared, wide eyes. Those gray eyes. . .  they startled him every time she looked at him straight on. Her frightened expression made her seem unbelievably innocent. No, this would not be one for seducing. He was not looking for another slap, and she was already frightened enough. Besides, he'd just be dropping her off at the next port. Damn his barely existent conscience! 'S a pity though. . .  I wouldn' mind bein' between those thighs. Jack grinned faintly at the thought.

He was staring at her. Sophia averted her eyes demurely, her cheeks flushing. The men she was used to never looked at a woman that was not his wife for more than about ten seconds. This Captain Sparrow was bordering on a minute, and both the silence and the awareness of his eyes on her was making her tremendously uncomfortable. She opened her mouth, intending to ask her question once more, wondering if he had perhaps not heard, but closed it again, frowning. Something about his expression forbid her to speak. Jack suddenly shifted from his daydreaming, perceiving for the first time her self-consciousness. He rose from his chair, swaggering towards her to stand over her seated form. "What's yer name, lass?"

Sophia's face was level with Jack's pelvis, and she had to crane her head up to look him in the eye, forcing down the flush that threatened to rise on her cheeks and neck in result to his close proximity. She instantly regretted it when she did, for his eyes were full of mirth. He was mocking her! The bastard was getting actual amusement from her discomfort! Sophia positively glowered at him.

"Sophia Cuthburt." Her voice was bitter and expressionless.

"Well, Sophia –"

"Miss Cuthburt."

"Wha'?"

Sophia's tone was sarcastic. Let's see who's mocking who now! "Captain, I am a respectable woman, not some tavern wench or whore you pick up off the streets. Therefore, you will call me Miss Cuthburt, savvy?" She couldn't help but enjoy the look on his face at their sudden reversal of roles.

"Aye. Well then, Miss Cuthburt, I'll leave you t' your own devices. Jus'. . .  stay 'ere. Some o' the men 'ave been 'board for some months, an' might no' be as gentlemanly as I am." He smirked as Sophia blanched before nodding silently. Without another word, Jack turned and paraded towards the door, shutting it none to quietly behind him. Sophia glared icy daggers at his back as he went.

Jack grinned as he closed the door. He loved toying with the proper ones.

-

Sophia spent the remainder of the day bored out of her mind. She couldn't concentrate enough to read, and the maps and other things on the desk quickly lost their allure, so she resigned to exploring the cabin, her fear of the pirates keeping her within Jack's quarters.

The other door within the room did in fact lead to a small but comfortable bathroom with a deep, claw-footed tub, although it did look rather cobwebby and she guessed that bathing wasn't on Jack's everyday list. Drinking, it seemed, was. Inside a large drawer in the pirate's desk, Sophia found twenty or so bottles of what she assumed was rum. She briefly considered dumping their entire contents down the sink just to spite the great Captain Sparrow, but, remembering the slightly feral quality to his eyes when she'd caught him staring at her, quickly disposed of that idea. There was also a small table and chairs, and after some consideration decided that it must be used for dining. She then despaired at the fact that she was wondering about the usage of tables.

 It was only then that Sophia noticed how extremely uncomfortable she was. It seemed, due to her various running, fainting, and falling off the bed episodes, her corset had decided to jab her in numerous places along her waist and ribcage. Not to mention that it had seemingly grown yet tighter in the night. Consequently, when Jack returned to his cabin that night around suppertime, he found Sophia lying on his bed, desperately trying not to take deep breaths and staring morosely at the ceiling.

"Don' sulk, love. 'S not attractive on you." Jack declared impishly as he closed the door behind him, casting his dark gaze around the room, and noticing the changes in the room due to Sophia's exploring. "Been snooping, 'ave we?"

Sophia sat up, intending to reprimand his calling her "love", but immediately groaned and sank back down into the sheets. Jack, of course, was oblivious to her discomfort.

"Now, jus' t' set things straight, I'm goin' t' give you two choices. Ye can either calm tha' bloody tongue o' yours an' make this voyage more enjoyable for th' both o' us, or ye can continue tha' little display you put on this mornin' an' I'll 'ave t' discipline you 'owever much the circumstance demands. . . " Jack grinned suggestively at the wide-eyed girl on the bed, several scenarios of the "punishment" he might bestow upon her flashing briefly in his mind, accompanied by loud moans and. . .  Jack shook his head, clearing his thoughts and returning to the matter at hand. ". . .but either way – "

"Mr. – er, Captain Sparrow?" Sophia's interrupted, her voice strained and gasping. "There wouldn't happen to be another woman aboard, would there?"

Jack swayed over to his desk, extracting yet another bottle of rum, still unknowing of her distress. "O' course there is, love! Tha's  Anamaria, tha' is. She pulls as much weight as any o' the other men on me ship. Strong as a bloody ox, she is."

Sophia had to control herself to keep from walloping the man about the head again for forcing her to listen to his useless babble. She managed to keep her voice relatively sugary. "Well, do you think we could have a visit, then? It's difficult being alone much of the time." Sophia was becoming desperate. One particularly persistent stay kept prodding her in her right side.

Jack stared at her momentarily, his continuously moving fingers freezing in midair, before chuckling. "I don' think Anamaria's the sort o' woman you'd want t' 'ave a chat with, lass. An' besides, she be on watch duty in th' crows nest t'night."

"Oh. . . Well." Sophia felt as if she were going to cry. Damn her mother to hell for making her wear this thing!

Jack must have finally noticed the pain etched across her features, for he, quite suddenly, strutted towards her and gazing overtly into her face. "Whoss wrong, love?" He'd apparently taken several swigs of rum, for his breath smelled quite strongly of a spicy, alcoholic flavor and he seemed to be slightly unsteady on his feet. Well, more unsteady than usual.

Sophia sighed, defeated. I can't very well embarrass myself more than I already have, can I? She thought miserably. Glancing towards the floor, she folded her hands across her thighs and spoke, her voice faintly ashamed.  "It's my corset. Lately I've had to wear it while sleeping, and I'm afraid I'm unaccustomed to it for such long periods of time. I think it's broken, as well." Sophia stared at her lap, awaiting the laughter she was sure she'd receive in response to her confession.

But no, the pirate did not laugh, although she did notice a quick flash of hilarity in his eyes. He instead grabbed onto her elbow and lugged her into a standing position, much to her painful protests and gasping. "'Ere, lass. Let me 'elp you."

In any other circumstance, Sophia would have most likely flat out refused. However, she was in quite a lot of pain and the lack of air to her brain must have been affecting her judgment, for she obediently shed her robe and nightgown and was left with just a thin silk under gown beneath the torture device itself. The scanty silk thing was intended more to keep the corset from chaffing against her skin than anything else and did little to disguise the outline of her breasts and thighs. Sophia was left with a distinct feeling of nakedness once her outer garments had been shed and quickly turned her back, leaving him to work on the corset.

Oh bloody 'ell. Jack couldn't help but to allow his eyes to wander downwards as she removed the majority of her clothing, but soon forced himself to concentrated the task of the corset. He grimaced at the sight of her cinched waist, and having learned from experience, didn't waste time with the laces. With a quick downward stroke of his knife, the offending garment fell to the floor with a faint clunk.

"Oh. . . " Sophia sighed happily, spanning her hands around her waist to ensure that no permanent damage had been done to the sensitive area.

Jack found his eyes glued to the creamy flesh of her shoulders and back and smooth expanse skin, knife still in hand, watching the delicate frame of muscles and joints move beneath it as she reveled in the freedom of her waist. He was beginning to feel the familiar pull in his belly. . . No. Not for seducin', this one. Stop it, Jack! He squeezed his eyes shut.

Sophia turned around only to find the pirate holding her robe and nightgown that had fallen on the floor out towards her in one hand and busying himself with gazing intently out the window.

Needless to say, she took them.

-    

". . .An' so I had t' say goodbye t' 'er. Poor lass. Bloody well in love wi' me, she was. But I said, 'No, 'Lizabeth. It would never o' worked between us.'" Jack nodded solemnly, propping his boot-clad feet on the table. "By this time, th' guards were gettin' impatient, so I stood a' th' edge o' the cliff an' said, "Gents! You will always remember this as th' day you almos' caught Captain Jack Sparrow!" an' then I dove gracefully off the cliff an' t' me awaiten' Pearl below." He flashed Sophia, who was sitting across from him at the table and picking grimly at her plate of food, a complacent grin.

Sophia had been extremely grateful when a young cabin boy brought the two supper shortly after she had once again donned her nightgown for she was very hungry. However, as soon as Jack launched into a tale of one of his numerous escapes from Port Royal (she expected the story had changed somewhat over the years to his liking), she grew bored. Sophia now stared at the swaying rum bottle in the captain's hand, watching the tawny liquid slosh hazardously about. Noticing where her attention lay, Jack offered her a drink, thrusting the bottle towards her drunkenly.

Sophia eyed the substance warily. What could it hurt? She grasped the bottle around the neck, her fingertips brushing his as she did so. She flinched.

"No need t' fear ol' Jack 'ere, love." His words were faintly slurred.

Sophia raised her gaze from the rum she was holding, only to find his eyes, clouded slightly with drink, on her face. Staring him right in the eye, she took a small sip, wincing as the liquor burned down her throat. 

"That is the most vile thing I have ever tasted." She stated, clunking the bottle harshly on the table, her mouth still slightly puckered from taste of the drink. Jack quickly snatched his beloved rum up, cradling it to his chest. He reminded her of a man guarding his lifesavings.

"Don' insult me rum!"

-

Jack had insisted, rather insensitively she thought, on keeping his bed for the night. And thus, not wishing to subject herself to the other pirates' sexual harassment she was sure to receive if she were to brave their resting places, Sophia was left to sleep on the floor. Remembering how she found Jack staring at her last time she awoke in his presence, she stole a blanket from his bed coverings, and ignoring the muffled "'Ey!" from the misshapen lump that resided within them, padded off to the bathroom, muttering in disgust. "Bloody pirates. Scoundrels, all of them. No manners a'tall."

The door didn't lock, but it was the best she could do. Seeing as the bathtub was the largest open space within the tiny room, she clambered inside, and, despite her discomfort, was asleep in seconds.

-

Jack, however, wasn't asleep. What was he going to do with that bloody girl? He couldn't very well give her a rowboat and tell her to row to the nearest land. Nor could he drop her off in some random port and leave her to be raped, and most likely killed. No, Jack didn't want her blood on his hands.

Nassau Port, that's where he'd take her. It had enough of the royal sort of people in it for her to find a way home unharmed, and yet enough of the pirating types for him to blend right in. Of course, they weren't too happy with him as of late. They just couldn't let go of that whole sacking thing.

-

Sophia awoke to the creaking of the door. She blinked groggily, expecting another ray of sunlight to blind her as soon as she rolled over, but instead was met with darkness. Well, darkness and a bootless, shirtless Jack Sparrow.

He didn't notice her. Staggering through the room, he kept one hand out and splayed against the wall to guide himself. Sophia couldn't help but notice the taut, lean muscles that glided under the bronze span of his skin as he moved and the broad width of his shoulders. She hadn't expected the captain to be so. . .  built.       

It wasn't until he began unbuttoning his trousers that she realized what he intended to do. Blushing furiously, she spoke, her voice breaking the delicate silence. "Captain, for future reference, next time you come into a woman's er. . .  sleeping quarters intending to relieve yourself, please warn her before you do so."

Jack whirled around, hands poised at the buttons of his britches, the sinews in his chest and back tense in his surprise, before aiming her an easy smile in her direction. "Sure thing, love."

Nodding rather lamely, Sophia clutched the blankets around her shoulders and marched from the bathroom.

"By th' way, Miss Cuthburt, people o' the normal sort don' usually sleep in bathtubs, jus' t' let y'know."

She slammed the door behind her.

-

Several hours later, Sophia lay, still very much awake and fuming in the darkness. Oh, that man was in for it. She'd show him. He was nothing but an ignorant, self-absorbed, disgusting barbarian, and she would make it known to him just exactly how she felt. Oh, yes. By the time they reached the next port, he would be begging her to leave. With a smile, Sophia could imagine his words at that moment: Off me ship, lass! LEAVE, ye bloody wench!

And so it was that Sophia Cuthburt resolved to make Captain Jack Sparrow's life a living hell.   

-

A/N: Whew! That chapter turned out kind of long.

Here's the deal. At least on my computer, the italics seem to be not working when I upload it, so must of the thoughts that characters have should be in italics, but aren't. Sorry if this causes confusion, but I have faith you guys can figure it out. :)

And please, tell me what you think of it!