The echoes clattered around him for a moment before he sorted them into four distinct footfalls, and they sounded to be heading in this very direction, so Jack moved from the supposed comfort of a window looking out, and sprawled with his usual careless grace on the floor, tucking his hands beneath his head with a supreme act of unconcern. It wasn't long before uniformed men rounded the corner, yes the total was four, and came to a halt outside his lonely little cell.
"Good afternoon and how might I be helping you fine gentlemen?" Jack started the conversation off. They were so stodgy, when you let them get the first word, he'd found, and if he could get them to smile, well…he had half a chance of winning them over, see? His question was met in a distressing manner with four grim faces, and he thought to himself that these chaps, these upstanding fellows would be ideal card players.
"Jack Sparrow, the governor will see you now. However, I wouldn't consider that even the slightest bit of good news, as he has told me himself he has every intention of hanging you in the morning, just as soon as he makes sure such an action would actually kill you, whatever that means."
Jack rose resolutely to his feet, making an effort to behave as though he'd been mortally offended, which he had, by rights, and clasped his hands together in a display of effeminate affectation. "Well then, you boys should be taking me to see his governorship, shouldn't you, instead of jawing here with the prisoner?" this was not good…not good at all. Someone was privy to the curse, someone that he was fairly certain he didn't know, and the very thought sent a chill down his spine.
Even after he had been escorted to the Governor's office, Jack was forced to wait for another span of time, though he was left to his own devices and surprisingly unshackled. They must be confident of their ability to keep him from escaping, and when he got a good look out the window, he understood why. This view was a lot more breathtaking in more than one way. It was a straight drop down, and it ended with a small shelf of stone, that was washed over with the tide, depending on the time of day. With a disgruntled sigh, he took up a seat in the chair behind the fancy desk, and propped his feet up on the polished wooden surface, tired of standing on attendance, as it were.
He was just lifting a pear lying in the basket on the desk, when footsteps once more allowed him some warning of an approaching individual. He sprang to his feet, to be more presentable, one never could be too careful with first impressions, but dropped the pear which sent him dashing a few feet after it. This unfortunate circumstance had him bent nearly double, with his backside to the door when an irritated cough had him looking back over his shoulder. The pear fell free of nerveless fingertips, and Jack, for perhaps the only time in his life, was left without something clever or glib to say.
"B…" he began, before a sharp gesture from the other cut him off.
"No excuses, Jack Sparrow."
"Captain Jack Sparrow." the lean pirate corrected, though he realized on his own that there was a strangled tone in his voice that might indicate just how discomfited he was by the other man.
"I see no ship, therefore you warrant no title." Jack flushed angrily,
"Here now, I would still be on my ship, if your bullyboys hadn't gone and plucked me from it without so much as a how do you do!"
"Just as well I left your crew out of this, don't you think?" countered the nobleman standing in the doorway. Jack took a moment to get a good solid look at him. Advancing in age, though certainly still whippet lean and well formed, which indicated he either maintained a very active lifestyle, or had only recently given one up. "I'd hate to have all of them hanged for a crime only you were responsible for." Dark hair, pulled back in a tail close to the base of his skull, apparently eschewing the use of those ridiculous powdered wigs that were all the rage in London. Lastly, he met a pair of piercing brown eyes that seemed to stare straight through Jack, forcing him to resist the urge to squirm. Jack decided that the best way to approach this would be to pretend as though he knew nothing of this fellow; since he wasn't sure what game he was playing at, or who might be listening in on the other side of the door. Jack squinted.
"You seem familiar to me, have we met before?"
"Governor Teague." The other responded sharply, forestalling any claims of prior knowledge.
"Right, right…Guvnor." Jack responded quietly. "Might I inquire as to the purpose for harboring such a seeming hatred of me, or would it be just because I am a pirate… sir?"
"One tends to hate the man responsible for the death of his only child, Jack Sparrow. I doubt you really care to examine your seeming lack of a wish to settle down, considering how many loose women you keep company with, but I had a family once, and you and your damnable treasures destroyed them." Jack frowned again, an expression that he went to a lot of trouble to avoid, usually.
"Ah…there's where you're wrong, mate. Last time I checked, your young William was engaged to be married, and if you don't set me back on my ship fairly soon, so that I may be underway, I'll never make it in time to be a guest." He leaned across the desk conspiratorially. "I hear there's going to be plenty of rum, savvy?" He looked around the room for any hint of a liquor cabinet. "You wouldn't happen to have a bottle handy, would you?"
Jack discovered the rum was gone because the former 'Bootstrap' Bill had turned into a bloody teetotaler. It was rather disappointing, all in all, and made it innately more difficult for him to trust his one-time friend.
"So what is the purpose of this whole sham, Bill?" he finally asked, after they'd been staring at each other across the desk for a span of no few minutes. Jack allowed himself to imagine that the elder Turner was in the process of digesting the knowledge that his son was still among the living, when he'd been all set to avenge his death. The other man lifted a brow in a questioning sort of look. "What sham would that be, Jack?" Jack waved his hand in the air in a mystifying manner,
"You know the whole 'Governor Teague' thing?"
"What makes you think it a ruse at all?"
"Because you're a pirate, and a bloody good one at that!" Jack retorted, certain of at least one fact, the one he had just plainly stated. Bill Turner… Teague, whatever he chose to call himself, had changed so drastically from the man he had sailed with, that Jack didn't rightly know if he could still call him a 'good man'.
"That was in another life, Jack. Younger sons of earls often have very few prospects by way of inheritance. Things have changed since then. I loved the ocean, before she betrayed me. Now I have other duties that I adhere to. So I will give you a chance to prove to me that you do not lie about my son, or it'll be your neck in the noose."
Jack pursed his lips thoughtfully. "It'll take some time to send a ship to Port Royal and back, mate, but if you'd be willing to wait that long, you return me to the Black Pearl and…" Teague cut him short in his planning with another sharp gesture. Clearly, Jack thought, he was the one running this escapade, however madcap it might seem from the outside.
"No, Jack…I don't trust you not to run, should I release you on your word. I will send another ship, and you will remain my guest until Will is brought safely home."
"That may take some doing," Jack began dubiously. "As he's quite taken with the lovely Miss Swann. Governor's daughter, you know. Very pretty, very…spirited."
"I don't recall saying that Will would have a choice, now did I?" the governor remarked, calm behind his desk. Jack paused, before closing his mouth over what he might have said. It would not float at this moment, no… "It's time the boy learned of his heritage…if he is still alive, as you say."
"That truly hurts, Bill. It's like I always say; you can always trust…"
"A dishonest man to be dishonest. I know, Jack. This is why you will remain here, until the truth has been proven to my satisfaction." He stepped to the door, and had a few brief words with the guards that had apparently been posted outside it. The escort back to his cell this time was reduced to two, but somehow that didn't make Jack feel any better.
Propriety dictated that a man was allowed to wear hosen, to show off the shape of his calves. On the other hand, if a woman showed so much as a flash of ankle, she was considered lewd and improper, and it was a fair bet that her company could be traded for a handful of coins. The first soldier that propositioned the dark-skinned beauty that came walking down the dock in trousers learned quickly that whatever she was selling, it wasn't her body. Nursing a swiftly blackening eye, he agreed to take her to see the Governor, which was her only request.
Anamaria was surprised when the man escorted her not toward the mansion overlooking the port, but rather toward the grim little jail set into the mountainside. "Quite a walk, are you sure you are not taking me to see the inside of a cell, instead?" her voice was skeptical. The man dithered,
"I'm quite sure, ma'am, as it's the governor's habit to oversee the workings of the jail, when his duties can allow for it. Otherwise, you'd have to wait for an appointment to see him in the manor house, and you'd be waiting longer than I think you have the patience for." Mollified, the pirate woman nodded her acquiescence. "Very well, then move faster so that my business may be done and you will see the backside of me." The guard speculated about how much he'd have to bleed before he could enjoy such a view on the rest of the walk, which passed in silence.
The exterior to the governor's office was austere, and lacked personality, which gave Anamaria no clue as to how she might approach the man, or even what sort of bargain he might find equitable to setting Jack Sparrow free. When she set eyes on the man, after being seen through the door, she began to have an inkling of an idea.
"If it's about your captain, you can do one of two things, madam." He began, without even giving her a chance to state her case. "In the first, you will sail to Port Royal and take a young man by the name of Will Turner into your custody, whereupon you will escort him back here, and conduct him into my care.'
"And if I do not like the first choice?" the pirate woman retorted sharply. She had no desire to sail to Port Royal…much less for such a disruptive venture as kidnapping the intended of the governor's precious daughter. Anamaria had to admit, however, the girl had plenty of spirit, and given time and training would probably make a fine pirate, just as she had.
"Then you should grow accustomed to being captain of the Black Pearl, as that is the only way you will win Jack Sparrow free of my… accommodations." It took a moment for Anamaria to sort through stunned disbelief, and realize that she hadn't simply misheard the man.
"There is only one captain of the Black Pearl... as I am sure you must know by now, Bill Turner." He looked too much like Will not to be the selfsame pirate that Jack spoke of so rarely. One did not speak of the dead, and now she understood why. They always come back to haunt those who do. "I do not understand how you can demand such a high price of him, but none aboard the Pearl will barter in such a fashion. You'd do better to set him free now, before your actions come back against you."
"I would not worry so about my actions. Your own honor is dubious enough, Anamaria, when you consider how many men are aboard that ship. One might... question Jack's motives for keeping you aboard. I doubt it's for your sharp mind." The smirk was painful, but with the soldiers standing at attention on either side of the door, Anamaria did not dare strike it from his face. She drew herself up proudly, ignoring the barb. Despite what Jack might think, she was not always so willing to slap first, and allow for questions later. Oh, who was she kidding? The guard with the steadily discoloring eye had to hide a grin, as the resounding slap sent Teague back a few paces.
"You will not question my place aboard the Black Pearl, Governor. I am first mate, and I do not sleep with Jack Sparrow for my position. He respects me, the least you could do is follow his good example."
"My terms remain unchanged. You can have your captain in exchange for Will Turner. If you do not bring me the boy, you do not get your captain back… savvy?" he caught her hand this time, as she raised it to slap him again. "Oh, no…this will not do. I let you strike me once, Anamaria, but you'll pay the consequences for a second." She jerked her hand free of his encircling grasp, and stepped back.
"I will consult with the crew, but you are making a fool's bargain. We all sailed with Will Turner. His devotion to his fiancé is quite admirable, if a bit naïve. Separating them will only bring you trouble, and I doubt any man jack of the crew will agree to it."
"Let me decide what trouble I will bring to my door, Anamaria. You attend your own affairs. Go talk to your crew. They're pirates, since when has breaking the law ever caused them to turn even one hair out of place?"
"The rules have changed. You will see."
Mr. Gibbs was as shocked as the rest of the crew when Anamaria presented the terms of Jack Sparrow's release. More than the others, when she revealed to him, in a private conversation later in the evening just who it was who had set the terms down.
"So old 'Bootstrap' is still around is he? He's asking for all manner of bad luck, by the sounds of it."
"I do not think he has stopped to consider what it is he's really asking, though I am certain I told him once, and Jack may have mentioned it, if they've had conversation. We cannot do this thing, Mr. Gibbs. Anyone else….I would not hesitate to seal the bargain, if it would win Jack from that wretched jail…but I doubt he feels that his freedom in exchange for Will's is a fair trade."
"That's the problem with sailing with Captain Jack, isn't it? Eventually, you begin to pick up his personal code, and there's no breaking it."
Gibbs was not a stupid man, contrary to popular belief. Still, it was always in his favor to convince others that he was simple, and his cause was often assisted by the flask of rum that he always kept about his person. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, and looked to Anamaria. "If we won't help him, and by Jack's orders, and our own consciences, we will do nothing to bring harm to young Mr. Turner, he will want to hire another crew to do his dirty work. Now…whatever else he may have threatened, he and Jack have too much history between them for him to put Jack on the gallows tree. My guess'd be that he'll send his scoundrels after Will and hold Jack until he knows there isn't enough time for the crew of the Black Pearl to stop him."
"Do you think we should sail to Port Royal, to warn Will?" Anamaria asked cautiously. Her dark features were creased with concern.
"You know as well as I do that we can't. All of Jack's bluster aside, I don't think he would risk taunting the Royal British Navy with the presence of such a formidable target, even to see that fine young pair married." Gibbs looked out over the sun-drenched waters around the ship, the sails and rigging creaking in the mild breeze that ruffled through their hair. "Besides, I don't think anyone tangling with Will Turner is going to know what hit them. That boy is the very devil with a sword in his hand."
"I envy you," Governor Teague said into the silence which had blanketed the dining room through most of the meal. Jack paused in his decimation of roast pheasant and looked up at Bill, his expression incredulous in wide, dark eyes.
"I'm sorry, I think I misheard you."
"You did not. Must you make this so difficult?" Bill seemed almost desperate to open the lines of communication, and it was jarring for Jack to realize that he was largely friendless here in this grand Governorship. It stilled the barbed comment on his tongue, on how it was the governor that wanted to hang him, not the other way around, and if he was making it difficult, he was only within his rights.
"Very well, I concede your point, I am making it difficult…but you're still going to have to expand on just what it is I've done that has aroused your sense of envy. Is my reputation finally spreading to the point of infamy?"
"You spent a great deal of time with my son, Jack. I've never laid eyes on him, in all his years, and now he is a man grown. Tell me…what is he like?"
"He looks a lot like you," Jack responded, his tone thoughtful as he considered memories of the young blacksmith. "He holds a deep and abiding distrust in all things piratical."
"How did you meet?"
"A rather memorable occasion, as he was doing his best to kill me, at the time."
"Really, now!"
"It's the truth, your Will has turned quite a fine hand at the blacksmith's art, and he's quite capable of using the weapons he creates. He very nearly beat me, and I had to cheat to disarm him."
"That was low of you, Jack."
"And well I know it, but I'm certain it was far more preferable to the alternative!"
"There is that." The meal resumed, and Jack returned to his repast, chewing on a grape or two as he thought about Will, and the last time he'd seen the lad, dressed in his finest clothes as he took over mastery of old Brown's smithy. He'd been so proud and vibrant.
"He's a good boy, your Will. You'd be proud."
"I will be proud when he and I meet."
"Is there nothing I can say to convince you this is all madness?" Teague rose to his feet, his expression resolute.
"Gentlemen, please escort Captain Sparrow back to his cell, if you would be so kind?" he turned to meet Jack's eye. "This conversation is at an end."
Fourteen days later, in Port Royal, Jamaica.
Weatherby Swann considered himself a learned man, so as he regarded the individual that sat across from his desk in the Governor's office at the port, he determined that the man was the worst sort of villain, based on his appearance alone. Swann did his best not to curl his lip in revulsion, or reach for the silk handkerchief to cover his nose. "I will ask you once more, sir, what you are doing in my township." He said, feeling he was being completely reasonable about this.
The man sneered at him. "And I'd ask you why an honest man is snatched from his ship by British soldiers for no apparent reason, Guv."
"Your men were circulating through Port Royal, in places that sailors do not generally go, sir. It smacks highly of suspicion. Were they, perhaps, canvassing the town to determine how much of worth could be got from sacking Port Royal?"
"The last time I heard, it was called shore leave, Guv. I don't dictate to my men where they go, or what they do, so long as they don't start fights." The man smiled slyly. "Perhaps they have high born sweethearts in the better parts of town, aye? I do hear that women favor adventurous men. Could be…I don't know, like your own fine daughter, perhaps? The wedding is tomorrow, is it not?" Weatherby flushed angrily.
"I doubt your men have very little in common with Mr. Turner, sir. His work as a smith is highly sought after, and he is rapidly becoming considered the finest sword smith in the Caribbean. You'd do well to watch your tongue." But the words still had a faint ring of falseness to them, and the other man picked up on it swiftly, far too swiftly.
"You still don't like him. He's not good enough for the likes of your daughter now, is he? What's a tradesman doing courting a girl of noble blood, anyway?"
"That is none of your concern, sir." Weatherby sniffed critically. He was surprised when the man leaned forward, for a closer talk, the grin on his face taking on a predatory look.
"But it could be…it could be. I could get rid of him for you. Not kill him, of course!" he raised a hand at the protestations that he sensed were coming from the governor. "Just…take him off the island and somewhere else…somewhere he wouldn't be a trouble to you marrying your girl off to someone far more appropriate to her station."
"Only if you can make it look like he left of his own accord." Swann found himself saying, before he realized the words were out of his mouth. "Otherwise, Elizabeth will never listen to me." He sighed, realizing he was in it deep, now, whether he wanted to be or not.
"How much are you willing to pay me to do this, eh?" the man, no…pirate, Weatherby corrected himself in his head, was close enough that the governor could smell the foulness of his breath.
"Fifty pieces of gold," Swann answered finally "Take him away from here, take him away from my daughter, and the deal is struck." He stood up and moved to unlock a drawer of the desk he'd been sitting in, pulling out a hefty purse. Counting out the money deliberately in front of the man was something of a pleasure. It left no doubt who held the higher station. "My men will be watching your ship. If you leave without him, I'll send the Navy after you for thievery. A deal is a deal…captain."
"I have no reason not to honor the bargain, your governorship," The man retorted, that predatory look still clinging to his face. It made him look like the proverbial wolf in sheep's clothing; he bounced a few of the coins in his palm. "And all the more incentive to get it done right, wouldn't you say? I'll have him off the island before you can say Jack Boo."
"You can't get it done before the wedding?" there was a twisting in his guts…if he couldn't keep her from marrying Will Turner, all of their plans would be for nothing.
"Easy now, Guv… Rome wasn't built in a day, they says. Here's where you get tricky. Find yerself a man who can pretend at being a priest, and the vows will never be true. That way, when we grab the lad, your girl is free and clear, and you come out smelling like roses."
"Of course… of course, it's not like the pretense has never been done in the past, after all. Why, that pirate Jack Sparrow once pretended to be clergy." Swann nodded to himself. "Keep your men on your ship, or in the taverns. If you were looking for the blacksmith's shop, I'll give you directions straight to it, but on my daughter's honor, have the man off the island before anything untoward occurs."
"Whatever you say, Guv."
Commodore Norrington was furious. Governor Swann recognized it, not so much by the expression on his face, but rather the sheer lack of one. That, coupled with how tightly the navy man's lips were pressed together, and Swann knew he would have to do some talking to calm him down.
"You let that pirate and his crew go. Why?"
"Come now, James. Between us, not a one of them had the brand, and they may really just have been honest sailors mistaken for scoundrels."
"I don't suppose you noticed that 'not one of those men' seemed to know very much about any of his mates when I questioned them." Norrington moved from where he'd been standing by the desk and began to pace the room, pensive to the last as he began to explain his suspicions. "Men who spend a great deal of time on the water learn to get along, or they find another berth to call home, Governor. No…these men haven't been sailing together for very long. Something is going on, and I intend to get to the bottom of it." Swann shrugged, affecting his usual helplessness in navy matters. Life on the sea was not his preference; he was by and large a landlubber to the core.
"Keep watch over them, in this circumstance. If they sail before the wedding, inform me at once…if not, their business will keep, I am sure. I know you agreed to stand in as Mr. Turner's best man, and I would not keep you from such a pleasant obligation with trivial duties." Norrington turned from where he'd ended by the window in his pacing, pale eyes wide in their regard, a small element of surprise swiftly swept away by military indifference.
"You've never forgiven him for winning Elizabeth's heart." His mouth twitched in sudden thought. "And you've never forgiven me for not coming between them and pressing my suit when I had the chance."
"How I feel is rather irrelevant at this point, wouldn't you say?" Swann asked his voice coolly collected. Norrington's eyes drifted back out to sea, his heart would always belong to her, after all.
"Yes…yes, I suppose it is." His voice had returned to calm and thoughtful, his mind somewhere far away in the warmth of the sunny Caribbean.
Will stood at the head of the church struggling not to fidget and he recalled the reasons Elizabeth had stated for selecting the ring from their small collection of loot, and he remembered the burn of his cheeks as he blushed nearly as dark as the perfect ruby set in the cradle of the two hands that formed the golden band.
"This ring represents the passion I have for you, Will Turner. I want you to look at this ring and think of me, always."
"Why would I need the ring, then? I plan to be spending the rest of my life with you, Miss Swann."
"Will! We are to be married; you can call me Elizabeth now, can't you?" She swatted his arm playfully, and he took the blow with stoic grace.
"Yes…and I will call you by your given name on our wedding night…Miss Swann." The look he gave her then had been enough to turn her knees to water.
It was the same look she was giving him now, he realized with bemusement, as she slipped the ring on his finger and recited her sacred vows. His mind drifted back to the madness of the morning, refusing to stay focused in the moment at hand as his stomach fluttered with nerves.
There had been quite the scramble when it was discovered that the priest who had agreed to perform the ceremony could not be found. He'd left a note explaining his need to travel inland to one of the island's crofter huts to attend to a dying man, and his apologies for leaving at the very last moment. A search had been conducted of the port to find a replacement with all haste. Finally, a Spanish missionary who barely spoke English had been discovered that agreed to fill in and was qualified to perform the wedding rites.
Once everyone but the bride had gathered in the chapel, Commodore James Norrington stood by Will as he waited for his intended at the head of the church. James had been witness to the furtive, searching glances that Will had directed into the audience gathered among the pews on either side of the center aisle. The wedding of the governor's daughter was a grand event, and there were quite a few here who had not been invited, but couldn't be kept away. But yet, there was one missing, and Norrington knew who Will was looking for without being told.
"I am sure he will be here, Mr. Turner. He couldn't possibly turn down free rum." The commodore spoke in a low voice meant for the smith's ears alone. Will jumped as though he'd been pole-axed between the eyes. At least he gave James the benefit of the doubt; but then Turner was the most honest pirate that Norrington had ever had the dubious honor of meeting.
"It was Elizabeth's suggestion,"
"And a good one, too. Don't worry, Turner. I won't arrest your friend…not today."
Of course, by that point, Will wasn't listening to him anyway, as he stood transfixed, his eyes toward the rear of the chapel. James understood when he followed the young man's gaze.
A group of the younger girls in the port were in the lead, throwing flower petals every which way with mad abandon as they cavorted up the center aisle. Behind them, a vision of beauty walked gracefully in measured steps, the white on white of the brocade gown that adorned her slender figure sparkled as tiny seed beads flashed and caught the light with every step.
"She's lovely, Turner. My congratulations." Will did not answer, as he was trying to pry his tongue from the roof of his mouth, so that speech might be managed later, when it counted.
Norrington had to admit a bit of his own disappointment that Jack Sparrow hadn't seen fit to witness the wedding in any small part, because it had been a sight to see the handsome young couple joined in wedlock at last. The reception was in full swing, and he was standing by himself. He held a full glass of rum that he had not even taken a single drink from carelessly cradled in one hand. As he became lost in his musings, Elizabeth appeared at his side.
"Will thinks that Jack does not care about what happens with us, having won his freedom." Her words were quiet, understated, echoing slightly that she might agree with the sentiment. James nodded.
"I feel something must have come up to deter him from your finest day, Mrs. Turner." The reassurance sounded hollow, even to his ears.
"I am sure he will come skulking into port one of these afternoons about how he beat the very devil in a swordfight, but was delayed from making it here in the doing of it."
"More than likely," James laughed, her wit was always unexpected, and one tended to forget that there was a sharp mind behind the beauty of her appearance at their peril.
"Are you happy, James?" Elizabeth fixed him with a determined look, one that indicated that she would not be satisfied with less than complete honesty. He'd seen that look before, and knew it well. In accordance with the weight of the question, he did not answer her right away. He felt her question deserved the fullest measure of deliberation before he spoke.
"Yes, Elizabeth, I really am." But he didn't leave it at such a simple answer. "If I could not win your heart, I could not ask for any man more steadfast in this place than Will Turner. Your happiness will always come before his, and you will want for nothing that he can provide. It makes me happy to know that he will take care of you, perhaps more completely than I could have. I may be the 'best man' here, but he is the better man for you." Her eyes were soft and unfocused with her own thought, before she answered.
"I could have grown to love you in time, James. Thank you for allowing me the freedom to choose a different path."
"Thank you for considering me at all."
"Will and I are to leave soon…the guests are becoming too boisterous. I suspect their behavior has something to do with all of the rum lying about. Vile drink, that." Her brown eyes flicked to his hand, and the untouched drink. Silently, he couldn't agree with her more.
"Then, Mrs. Turner, might I have the pleasure of a dance, before you go?"
"Gladly, Commodore Norrington…gladly."
The living portion of the smithy was blessedly quiet in comparison to the wild rowdiness of the gathering Will and Elizabeth left behind them. Will carried his new wife over the threshold of the small apartment without any trouble at all, years of working with the forge honing his muscles to the peak of fitness.
After setting her to her feet, Will wandered through the rooms, lighting candles wherever he went. The place was lit with a warm glow when he turned to regard his wife in her wedding finery.
"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I don't dare touch you; I don't want to ruin anything." Elizabeth had to stifle the urge to laugh, because he was deadly earnest and she knew he spoke for his nervousness.
"You're going to have to help me out of these things, Will, and get this corset off. I can't breathe."
"I'm sorry, I didn't think…" she took the few steps forward necessary to reach up and stop his stammered apology with her fingers to his lips.
"Hush, Will. Stop apologizing to me for things you do not know." And she smiled to reassure him. "After all, you can't know everything."
"I never claimed to." He responded with a dry whisper, but his hands explored her waistline before he turned her away from him so that he might better see how the lacings worked. After that, it didn't take him long at all to get her out of the dress.
The candlelight burnished Elizabeth's skin to molten gold as she lay on the bed. Will could tell that Elizabeth was nervous, or perhaps even afraid that he might hurt her in his enthusiasm. Carefully, as though he were touching the most fragile glass, he began to explore her skin, marveling at the softness of it beneath work-calloused fingertips. Equally surprising, but certainly thrilling were the sounds that she made as he touched her.
She began to relax in stages as the caresses continued and Will reflected back to Jack Sparrow's words. Not all treasure was gold, but tonight, in the candlelight, she came close.
Elizabeth gasped as Will cupped his hand over the thatch of curls between her legs and Will closed his eyes as the world swam out of focus around him. Drawing breath became a challenge; it felt as though he were being dipped in liquid fire, as every inch of his body burned from the inside out. His breath caught in his throat, sensation drowning him in an impossible tide.
He must have made some sound, or been still too long, just looking at her, because Elizabeth stirred and opened her eyes.
"Are you all right? We don't have to…"
"Yes we do. It is our wedding night, Elizabeth, and we've both waited long enough for this. Just let me look at you, for a moment." That he wanted her was unmistakable, his body made that more than plain and he flushed with embarrassment that she had so obvious an effect on him. Elizabeth rolled to one elbow and reached for a glass on the nearby table, half full of amber rum.
"Here, Will…drink some of this. Jack would call it liquid courage."
Will did as she bade him, and tossed back the fiery liquid in three long swallows, feeling the burn as it went all the way down. It was strong enough to cloud his vision and he shook his head to clear it. When he looked back at Elizabeth, he knew what to do for her…for them both.
He began by drawing a fingertip up her inner thigh, tracing a line only he could see in her pale flesh. Up, until his hand was edging into the damp between her legs, and then in…delving as gently as he could, but implacable in his determination to wring a sound from her throat that he had not yet heard. Elizabeth responded by arching her back, opening herself more to his explorations. He had imagined what a woman might feel like many times, but his idle musings didn't even come close.
On a whim, he stroked his tongue along the wet, silken folds beneath his hand and was rewarded with a breathy cry from his bride. Taking the cue she'd just given him, Will attacked the sensitive flesh with fervor, licking and suckling at the tender nubbin until Elizabeth was thrashing with tension, her cries becoming more imperative.
"Will, if you do not finish what you have begun, I swear, I will scream." It sent a shiver of delight through him that she was no longer the demure, proper girl that polite society couldn't get enough of. Will raised his head from his distraction and noticed how flush her skin had become. Once again, he proved how pliant to her wishes he could be, by crawling up her body until they were eye to eye, the hard length of him pressed against her hip. He was holding his weight above her with one hand, she realized, and the other was out of sight down along their bodies.
"If you scream," he whispered, mouth mere inches from hers. "I won't be able to finish." And he dipped his head to kiss her hungrily, even as he claimed her body to the fullest. The sound she made was muffled against his mouth, and Will stopped moving instantly, the fear that he'd hurt her underscoring his actions.
"I am fine, Will," she assured once she's gotten her breath back enough to speak. "I only need a moment to adjust." Will nodded, remaining still within her until she began to move beneath him, urging him to continue.
Will became lost then, as he joined Elizabeth in a primal dance as old as time itself, though completely new to both of them. She existed to be filled and filled as he strained to reach something just beyond his grasp, sensation building with every thrust of his hips.
It was Elizabeth's voice crying his name as her body clenched around him that pushed Will over the edge into climax, his hands twisting into the sheets on either side of her shoulders. Will lost all reason as his pleasure crashed over and through him, rocking his entire body with the strength of his release.
"I love you, Elizabeth Turner," he said, when he'd caught his breath again.
"And I love you, Will Turner." Elizabeth responded softly, wonder in her voice at what they'd done together. Bodies tangled around each other and in the sheets, the pair fell asleep. They had been so caught up in their lovemaking that neither noticed the ruby of Will's ring leeching itself of sanguine color, three tiny drops of blood staining the sheet beneath Will's upturned hand until an emerald glittered balefully in the failing candlelight.
Will woke up because he felt like he was suffocating, his mouth parched with a thirst unlike any he'd ever experienced, even in the hottest day at the forge. He licked his lips, trying to restore moisture to parched tissue to no avail, and determined that he'd have to get up to find something to drink. Carefully, so as to avoid waking his wife as he rose from the bed... His wife, Will slid from her embrace reluctantly and began to dress quietly in the darkness, pulling his breeches on through ease of long practice. He frowned, trying to think where the drinking water was, and realized that he kept it in the forge. Things would have to change, now that he had a wife to take care of. It made him want to pause and marvel over what he was now…a husband!
With a fog of ebullience clouding his mind, he wandered into the forge and found the jug of water where he'd left it last. Popping the stopper free, he leaned his head back and drank deeply of the cooling liquid, relishing the feel of it as it slid down his throat. The water was easier on the body than the rum she'd offered him earlier; he could certainly vouch for that. Lingering over the jug of water, Will remembered in vivid detail everything he and Elizabeth had experienced in sharing the bed and it made him want to go in and wake her, to try it all over again. Propriety, however, stopped him from doing it. She'd earned her rest, it really had been such a long day, and he'd never been so nervous in his entire life, not even with Captain Barbossa holding a knife to his throat, with his death in the balance.
No, the chivalrous thing to do was to inhibit his natural desire, and to further this cause, he decided the best thing for it was to dunk his head in the barrel of water he used to cool the blades red-hot from the forge after he was done working them. Flinging wet hair back and out of his face, with water still streaming into his eyes, Will never saw the men who grabbed him.
Instinct had him kicking out and pushing off the heavy water barrel to stagger the man who had wrapped him in a bear hug from behind, even as another assailant jammed a burlap sack over his head, effectively blinding him. With his arms pinned to his sides, Will was defenseless and he knew it. The stink of whatever had been in the sack nearly overpowered him as he stopped struggling to be free, and focused on breathing.
"Take what you've come for, but leave me in peace," he ground out between clenched teeth. His two simple hopes were they were merely opportune robbers, and that they did not realize Will was not alone here in the smithy. He was trying to be quiet. He didn't want them waking Elizabeth and putting her in the danger of coming in here to help him.
"Ah, boy…" another voice, sinister and low came from the shadows beyond the makeshift hood. "What have you got to offer, hmm? What will you give us to leave your strumpet where she sleeps?" Will's blood boiled at the suggestion that Elizabeth was nothing more than a whore.
"Release me and put a sword in my hand, and we'll see how far you get." Will spat out his frustration as he issued the challenge to the men who held him captive and helpless to defend his love from harm. He began to struggle again, his desperation to keep Elizabeth safe overriding common sense.
"What sort of idiots do you take us for, boy? We're pirates, not gentlemen. Bring him; he's had his fun with the governor's whore of a daughter. It's time to go, lads."
Something hard and metallic struck the back of Will's head, driving him to his knees in the hard-packed earth of the smithy. As the blackness raced up to swallow him whole, he felt a grim, bitter irony that they'd used the hilt of one of his own swords to strike him down.