Disclaimer: PotC belongs to Disney, not me.

A/N: Just wanted to make sure everyone noted the rating change ...

Regret:

Anamaria fell on her back on another woman's bed, as another woman's husband threw his shirt to the ground and crawled overtop of her. She ran her hands over the skin of his back, skin unmarred by scars or tattoos. The married man kissed her neck, one hand tangled in locks of black hair that were falling out of a carefully crafted up do.The other hand had hitched up her skirt and massaged the heated area between her legs. Laying her arms above her head, Ana let the happily wed man pull her dress off. She used the tiny dagger that habit had made her carry in her garter to cut the ties that were binding her corset. The stiff material snapped open, laying bare her breasts to someone else's husband. Thrown across the room, and forgotten, the dagger imbedded itself in the wall by the door.

"Touch me," Ana pleaded.

A hand bearing a gold wedding band grabbed one of Ana's breasts. The married man fondled her as his lips were drawn to the other breast. He sucked on her nipple, hungrily moaning as she held his head against her chest. Another woman's husband ground his member, still confined within his breeches, against Ana's body. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him closer. Her breast began to ache beneath his lips. She brought her hands again to his back, her nails leaving rosy trails up and down his light, not bronzed, skin.

Gasping at the luxurious pain, the wedded man briefly disengaged the lady's embrace to rid himself of cumbersome breeches. Hands on his broad shoulders, Ana pulled someone else's devoted husband back to the bed, turning him onto his back. With no hesitation, she lowered herself to his body, impaling herself of his throbbing erection. Her breath caught as he filled the empty space inside of her, if only for a moment. Rocking her hips, she threw her head back and cried out as his member brushed against her most sensitive areas. The married man was watching her, a lusty grin spread across his face. His hands were on her hips, guiding her body up and down faster and harder. His fingers dug into her skin, and his own hips pumped erratically. His eyes were full of fire, and his face contorted with passion. Moaning urgently, Ana increased her pace, rising up and falling against him. The lady's muscles tightened and loosened in a frenzied climax as the devoted husband's seed spilled into her body. Eyes wide, the married man called out a name that did not belong to his wife.

Anamaria Tarret's eyes popped as she lay with her head against the wedded man's chest, remembering the sins of moments earlier. How quickly he had forsaken the vows of marriage for her. How quickly she had forgotten her truest love for him. How easily and naturally they came to each other, both knowing their transgressions, neither letting that knowledge stop them.

The other woman's husband was stroking her hair, his heartbeat slowly regaining it's normal rhythm. Ana was watching her own hand caress his chest. She was transfixed by the sight of her dark fingers against his proper, light British skin. Running the tips of her fingers along his ribs, she could almost see the scars on a pirate's tanned skin. Closing her amber eyes, she conjured up the image of the tattoo that peeked out from the waistline of a pirate's breeches.

The happily wed husband cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Annie," he said, his voice still husky from their illicit affair.

"It was what I wanted," she said, knowing exactly for what he was apologizing.

"Maybe, but what a grieving woman wants and what a grieving woman needs can be far different. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you."

The married man's words brought a smile to Ana's face. Picking herself up, she gazed into his light, apologetic eyes. "I carry a knife in my skirts, James," she said. "Believe me, this wouldn't have happened if I hadn't wanted it … others have tried and met with much less success." She winked, grinning. For once, James did not appear shocked by her blunt speech. Tilting his head to one side, he merely smiled back, no doubt trying to imagine what exactly a lady pirate would do with unwanted advances. Ana didn't tell him, that would be too shocking. Shaking her head to bring her thoughts back to the present, Ana's face grew serious. "Don't be sorry, James. I'm not."

"You don't regret …" he didn't finish his thought.

"I might," Ana answered, truthfully. "I may scold myself for what we've done. I might cry when I think that Jack's body isn't even cold, yet. I may feel guilty when Elizabeth finds out … she will find out, you know." James nodded. "But, at the same time, being a pirate has taught me to live in the present," the lady paused, lowering her eyes. "Jack always said that regretting your past was useless."

James furrowed his brow. "That's funny," he mused. "Prescott always said that regreting anything was useless."

"Please, I've just committed adultery … well, actually you have … either way, I don't want to think about my brother right now," Ana chuckled laying back against James' chest. Chuckled? Had she really just chuckled? She exhaled.

Yes, she would regret this, when she had time alone to think about what she'd done. She would probably cry. She would definitely curse. She would curse herself, James, God, maybe even Jack, but, now … now, she honestly felt better. James was a married man, but he was also the man who's body was keeping her warm. The man who's strong arms were holding her. For the moment, she wasn't alone. Her life wasn't in shambles. For this fleeting moment, she was merely a women accepting loving kindness from a man.

"I hate to," James started. "But I really should get back to that party."

"Will you tell her?"

"Not tonight," he sighed.

"She might already know."

James didn't respond. There was nothing to say. Sliding out of the bed, he attempted to locate the various articles of clothing that were strewn about the room. Ana watched him dress. Lying in the oversized bed, in the over-decorated master bedroom, she wondered how different everything could have been if this was the life she had wanted. A hundred years ago, she'd been married to a Navy Captain, a man who could have made Admiral someday. If that marriage hadn't crumbled to pieces, she could have been the mistress of a respectable house. She could have planned social events, made love to her husband after grand parties, and watched him dress in the morning. Would that life have been any less heartbreaking?

As James buckled on his dress sword, Ana recalled one of the few mornings she'd awoke in her Captain's quarters. Jack's bed was much smaller, not adorned with fine linens or overstuffed pillows. She'd come to his cabin many nights,occasionally he'd even come to hers, and once they engaged in a night of passion high above decks in the fighting top. Each night they had fallen into each other's arms for different reasons. Each time they found solace, comfort, pain, desire or whatever they had been looking for, but she never felt closer to her Captain then when they stayed together till morning. She always knew that Jack trusted her, and loved her. She also knew that during twenty years, he'd found comfort in other women's arms as well as hers. But, when he went ashore for company, he always returned that same night, never letting the rising sun find him with another woman.

Departing from another woman's bed, Ana gathered up her clothes. She felt James' eyes on her nude form. She didn't bother to cover herself as she moved towards the door. Modesty now would be simply absurd. Her hand was resting on the crystal doorknob at the precise moment that a door opened downstairs. In an instant, James was at her back, his hands on her shoulders. He cursed under his breath as they both heard the butler greet Elizabeth.

"Get to your rooms," he whispered. Her eyes met his. She expected to see guilt or anxiety, but instead she saw disappointment.

"James?"

"I'd like to keep our secret … not forever, just … a bit longer."

TBC

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