Yet again, usual disclaimers apply throughout this tale. If you recognise it, it probably belongs to the Mouse – else it is mine!

Chapter 8 – The Accord

Jack led the way into the lush green undergrowth. He knew the island well and had no doubts that the crew would quickly find enough for a beach feast. There were feral goats as well as loads of birdlife and later they could fish in the shallows. But he was after a different kind of prey – the female kind. He led her deep into the forest, climbing steep slopes on hands and knees.

"Captain...?" Catherine queried. "Do you know where you are going?" She cursed as she skinned her arm on some rocks.

He turned and looked at her. "I always know where I'm going, Kitty, but it just depends on whether I get there," he replied, muttering a silent prayer to all the Gods of Luck that he could think of.

"And where is that?" she asked quizzically.

Jack looked around as he clambered to the top of the slope. "Just here, luv, just here!" He reached down, offering his hand to help her climb the last few feet.

Catherine clambered up to stand beside him, gasping at the sheer beauty of the sight before her. A small, deep pool was surrounded by rich grassy glade. She stood entranced watching a type of small bird she did not recognise, brightly jewel coloured, flitting about amongst the luxurious scented flowers. She turned to Jack, disengaging her hand from his. "I don't think there will be much game here, Captain," she frowned doubtfully.

"I'm game if you are, Kitty..." Jack let his suggestion linger, reaching for her hand again.

"Captain Sparrow, please!" She tore her hands from his grasp. "I am no whore, and I am most definitely not your whore! You gave your word!" Angrily she reached for her pistol.

"Whoa, whoa, Kitty! Don't be hasty!" He leaned closer, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling her neck. "After the other night, I thought we had something going. What's a man to expect when a woman undresses him?"

"You were frozen with cold and soaking wet, Captain. It would have served neither of us if you'd died of pneumonia!" He continued nuzzling. "Stop that!" she hissed, struggling in his arms.

"Stop what?" he asked, a teasing smile on his lips as he ignored her.

"That! That nuzzling..." she protested. He nibbled gently on her earlobe. "Please!"

Jack sensed she was close to tears. He sighed heavily as he stopped and pulled her down to sit beside him on the grass. "Just hear me out, Kitty... please!" He turned seriously to her. "How d' yer expect t' get passage to Port Royal. Yer have no money, nothing to barter with except yerself, an' others 'd be a damn sight worse than me... I'll drop yer at a safe port, Nassau if you like, with money fer lodgings and passage to Port Royal..."

"Would you give me the money even if I refuse you?" Catherine hated to admit that he was right. With no money she had no way of gaining passage unless somebody took pity on her and she had been worrying about how she would get to Port Royal for a number of days.

Jack shrugged, smiling ruefully as he looked at her. "Aye, I probably would... but I'd like t' think yer wouldn't. We aren't all animals, Kitty. I won't force yer, I gave my word, but p'raps we can come to an accord? Somethin' fer yer, somethin' fer me? Your passage..."

"I..." She took a deep breath. She hated to think that he would require her to barter her body for passage on his ship and was surprised to discover that what she hated most about the idea was her disappointment in him. She had thought better of him for he had been, until now, honourable in his behaviour towards her. She had hoped he was a good man, even if a pirate. "Are you making this the price of my passage then, Captain?" Her hazel eyes stared into his, seeking the answer as she bit her lip.

"If yer want t' put it like that..." he said softly. He could see she was frightened which was not surprising after the treatment she had received from Francis Bailie and his crew. "But I'll only have yer willingly... trust me?" he smiled, his hands reaching for the buttons on her shirt. "Give yerself t' me until we reach Nassau... " He slid the shirt from her shoulders, revealing her pale white body.

Catherine looked at him, studying his face. "I..." she stuttered.

"How about we start with yer callin' me Jack and havin' a kiss..." He leaned across, his lips meeting hers. "And then another... yer can always shoot me afterwards if yer want."

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Catherine did not want to wake. She could feel the sun on her face and the warmth of his arms as a tear slid down her face. "Greg," she whispered, the implications of her actions slowly dawning on her. Before, the choice had been taken from her, but this time she had lain with a man of her own free will, relatively, and was ashamed to admit that she had enjoyed it. Whatever crimes you could convict Jack Sparrow of, being a lousy lover was certainly not one of them.

Jack shifted, his arms drawing her closer. "We should be going Kitty if we're t' find food fer the feast..." His fingers traced lazy circles on her breast. "Although I'd rather stay..." He paused. "Yer don't' want t' shoot me, do yer?"

"No Jack, I won't shoot you..." she confessed, blushing. "I will keep our accord."

He grinned, pulling her to him again as he kissed her. The Gods of Luck must indeed have heard his prayers.

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