Tara opened her eyes. She was lying on the bed in the small room which Rosemary had showed her into. It was dark, mainly because the drapes were shut. She sat up, aware of how much the pain in her chest had grown.
Something moved in the shadows beside the window. Tara looked over there, her breath catching in her throat, her hand moving to the spot where her pistol was fastened to her leg...
It wasn't there. Someone had removed it.
"Who... who is there?" she asked shakily.
A figure stepped slowly out of the shadows. Tara groaned softly as he stepped into the light. It was Jack, who looked very serious for once.
"Hello, Tara," he sighed.
She glared at him, completely lost for words. How dare he come in here, disarm her, and watch her sleep?
"I... er, removed yer pistol," he said, patting one of the pockets of his old coat. "In case yer decided to try and kill me."
"You've given me enough reason to," she snapped heatedly.
He was silent, his eyes bright with sorrow. Tara was determined not to give into him.
"Who let you in?" she asked acidly.
"Rose. Well, she hardly had a choice, she blurted out ye were up here and I sort of sneaked up," he shrugged.
"Who was the blonde strumpet I saw you with before?" Tara asked coldly.
Jack screwed up his face. "Erm... Ollie, I think."
"You think?"
"Well..." he murmured, "sometimes it's hard to keep track."
She inhaled angrily. "Oh, I see, so it's a different woman every night for you."
He glared back at her. "Don't be forgetting that ye left me, Tara!"
She was speechless. She could think of nothing to say, and merely opened and shut her mouth repeatedly, until Jack sniggered.
"Don't laugh!" she said, tears in her eyes.
He snickered. "Sorry, sorry."
There was a tense pause. Then Jack spoke again, gently.
"So... who beat yer up?"
She rolled over so she was facing away from him. "I don't want to talk about it."
"It was yer pa, wasn't it?" he asked.
She sighed. A single tear rolled down her cheek. "Yes."
She looked back at Jack, who was still watching her, concerned, from his corner.
"Go on, laugh," she said. "You told me so."
He walked slowly forward, stopping a few inches from the bed. "I would never want ye hurt, Tara, never."
He reached out shakily and grabbed her hand. Tara pulled it away. "Well, it's my fault. I should have agreed to marry Gilette."
"What fool would agree to that?" Jack asked.
Tara felt a rebellious streak she only felt went Jack was around. "This one," she said simply. "I'm going back to marry him. So there."
Jack sat down on the bed next to her. She sat up and tried unsuccessfully to push him off. He held her wrists tightly and she froze.
"No, don't, you know yer pa'll kill yer," he breathed. "Come with me. I... I still love yer, Tara."
She opened her mouth, then slowly closed it. She chewed her tongue, then spoke. "I don't love you. And I'm not coming with you."
Jack sighed. Then he slapped her hard around the back of the head. She collapsed, unconscious, in his arms.
"Oh yes ye are."
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Nasty Jacky goodness! R&R please!
Something moved in the shadows beside the window. Tara looked over there, her breath catching in her throat, her hand moving to the spot where her pistol was fastened to her leg...
It wasn't there. Someone had removed it.
"Who... who is there?" she asked shakily.
A figure stepped slowly out of the shadows. Tara groaned softly as he stepped into the light. It was Jack, who looked very serious for once.
"Hello, Tara," he sighed.
She glared at him, completely lost for words. How dare he come in here, disarm her, and watch her sleep?
"I... er, removed yer pistol," he said, patting one of the pockets of his old coat. "In case yer decided to try and kill me."
"You've given me enough reason to," she snapped heatedly.
He was silent, his eyes bright with sorrow. Tara was determined not to give into him.
"Who let you in?" she asked acidly.
"Rose. Well, she hardly had a choice, she blurted out ye were up here and I sort of sneaked up," he shrugged.
"Who was the blonde strumpet I saw you with before?" Tara asked coldly.
Jack screwed up his face. "Erm... Ollie, I think."
"You think?"
"Well..." he murmured, "sometimes it's hard to keep track."
She inhaled angrily. "Oh, I see, so it's a different woman every night for you."
He glared back at her. "Don't be forgetting that ye left me, Tara!"
She was speechless. She could think of nothing to say, and merely opened and shut her mouth repeatedly, until Jack sniggered.
"Don't laugh!" she said, tears in her eyes.
He snickered. "Sorry, sorry."
There was a tense pause. Then Jack spoke again, gently.
"So... who beat yer up?"
She rolled over so she was facing away from him. "I don't want to talk about it."
"It was yer pa, wasn't it?" he asked.
She sighed. A single tear rolled down her cheek. "Yes."
She looked back at Jack, who was still watching her, concerned, from his corner.
"Go on, laugh," she said. "You told me so."
He walked slowly forward, stopping a few inches from the bed. "I would never want ye hurt, Tara, never."
He reached out shakily and grabbed her hand. Tara pulled it away. "Well, it's my fault. I should have agreed to marry Gilette."
"What fool would agree to that?" Jack asked.
Tara felt a rebellious streak she only felt went Jack was around. "This one," she said simply. "I'm going back to marry him. So there."
Jack sat down on the bed next to her. She sat up and tried unsuccessfully to push him off. He held her wrists tightly and she froze.
"No, don't, you know yer pa'll kill yer," he breathed. "Come with me. I... I still love yer, Tara."
She opened her mouth, then slowly closed it. She chewed her tongue, then spoke. "I don't love you. And I'm not coming with you."
Jack sighed. Then he slapped her hard around the back of the head. She collapsed, unconscious, in his arms.
"Oh yes ye are."
----------------------
Nasty Jacky goodness! R&R please!