Chapter 5
He came forward and straddled me on the bed, using one hand to hold my shoulder against the pallet, the other hand started to fiddle with the buckle of my belt.
"Please…"I begged, lying still, as my brain screamed for my body to move. I felt trapped and…helpless. Not at all the person I thought I was. I had sworn to myself that I would never let this happen to me again. On my mother's own grave had I sworn, but even that could not shake me from the icy grip of terror.
"Come now, miss." Barbossa crooned, leaning in to kiss my neck. "I'll be gentle. Don't fight…and I won't hurt you." He put emphasis into his words, finding my mouth with his own and kissing me softly. I screamed against his lips and pushed up with all the strength that I could muster after a day of literally hauling my own weight around.
He pulled back and slapped me, then, fisting a hand in my hair he jerked my head back so that my neck was exposed. "I told you not to fight me." He said, shaking the hand that had hold of my hair. I bit my lip to keep from screaming again. He tore at my belt. It ripped and came loose, the buckle hanging uselessly.
"Please…no…What about the captain? He'll have your hide for this…" I cried softly, brokenly, vying to think of a way out of this. His hand was in my breeches.
"Not if he thinks you came to me willingly." Barbossa snarled, releasing my hair so that he could undo the buttons of my shirt.
"I'll tell him I didn't…I'll tell…" He slapped me again.
"And who do you think he'll believe?" He moved my shirt apart, exposing my bare breasts to the lamp light.
"You're taking me in his quarters…in his own bed." I said flatly, furtively. His head dropped to my chest. I tried to close my legs but he forced them apart again, his movements harsh, and becoming more demanding.
"I'll tell him you told me too. Jack Sparrow'll have you thrown over the side of this ship yet, Miss. It'll be that, or look as if he's gone soft to his own crew."
"I've done nothing wrong." I defended my self, writhing as he dropped his full weight on top of me, pinning me whilst he began undoing the buttons of his own breeches.
"Ah…but you have. You've broken the captain's claim and chosen a crew member. He could hang you here for that. But it's more like Jack Sparrow to toss you overboard, let you swim for a while." He replied scornfully.
Tears ran freely down my face now, and he kissed them off of my cheeks. "Don't fret…this is a kind end for you. Enjoy this, now. Think of what would have happened…there's worse ways to go. Especially for the unlucky wench who's decided play at being a pirate. MUCH worse ways to go…"
I clenched my thighs closed as he tried to enter me, locking my legs at the ankles and curling into a protective ball. I fell off the bed and hit the floor hard, the wind leaving my lungs with my impact. He cursed and stood up.
I scrambled to hike my breeches up, crawling towards the door. Then a knife sharp pain exploded in my side and dizzy lights went off in front of my eyes. I cried out and fell against the floor. He kicked me again, though lighter this time, sending me sprawling again when I would have tried to crawl away.
His fist was in my hair again, and he put his hand across my mouth to silence a scream as he hauled me to a stand and crushed me against him. Then I heard the murmur of voices like a storm approaching as the men ascended the mess stairs, their voices heightened with mead.
Barbossa hissed in anger, and shook me within his hold. "One word of our little encounter to Jack Sparrow, and I'll cut that pretty little neck of yours. You can be sure of it." He growled, shoving me away from him so that I crumpled against the far wall.
"This isn't finished, wench. You'll be mine yet."
I curled into a knot as he crept out of the door. Minutes later I heard him shout heartily, "Pintel, you slug! Come take over this wretched post so I can get myself some supper."
The man called Pintel squeaked something in reply, and I stopped listening.
I rushed to button my shirt and fix my breeches, but the belt that had held them was severed and useless. I ran shaking hands through my hair, combing as best I could through the snarls that had been created there. My right side was on fire, every breath I took easing into a searing pain.
The left side of my face and neck felt hot, and as I explored the area with my fingers, I found hand shaped welts swelling the skin. I winced, thinking how horrid and obviously battered I looked, and thinking of an explanation that I could feed to Jack Sparrow to explain the injuries. He would be coming back to check on me soon. I lay back down on the bed and faced the wall, trying to calm my racing heart enough to sleep.
I heard foot steps at the door, and my muscles tightened painfully, preparing myself for another assault.
"Ana Maria?" Jack intoned quietly, his lantern casting shadows on the wall inches away from my face. I heard a clang as he set something down on the table. His footsteps neared, my heart raced again, and I felt my shoulders curl forwards protectively.
He palmed my shoulder gently, and pulled me towards him, so that I rolled until I was on my back. I refused to meet his eyes, but I heard him hiss as he saw the welts on my face and neck.
"Who did this to you?" He growled dangerously.
I started to answer him, but my voice broke. Swallowing hard, I tired again. "No one, Captain…I was trying my hand at the ratlines again, and I fell." I reached a hand up to shield my eyes from the light as I forced my body into a sitting position.
He grasped me by the shoulders and gently pushed me back down, catching sight of the purpling bruise above my hip as he did so. "Turn over," he ordered softly. "Lie on your stomach, and let me look at that."
I flinched as his fingers grazed the area lightly, but did as I was told, looking at him out of hooded eyes as he pushed my shirt up, exposing the bruising skin. He sighed. "I see, and it was the ratlines then… that put a boot print in your back?"
"I hit a cask on deck when I landed." I lied again.
"Um hmm. Turn over please." He said distractedly, walking away and rummaging in a cupboard mounted on a far wall.
I rolled over, pulling my shirt down, and lying flat on my back as I winced up at the ceiling.
He came back to the side of the bed, pulling up a stool and plopping down hard on it. He lifted my shirt up again, baring my stomach and I tensed, reveling in several sharp pains as my muscles protested the movement, and his eyes locked with mine. "I'm not going to look, so relax, or this won't even begin to help." He said quietly, uncorking a large, squat earthenware jar.
He dipped two fingers into it and brought forth a pungent smelling paste. It made me a little dizzy, but the headache that was building in my temples subsided a little. It smelled of mint, salt, dirt and some other sharp green plant. He smoothed it gently over my side, but even that little pressure was enough to make me cry out. I shoved a fist in my mouth and bit down, smothering the sound.
"Here…" He said gently, eyes clouded as he looked at me, and handed me a scrap of white cloth. "Bite down on that. I know this hurts…it would seem you broke a rib or two in that fall of yours."
"Don't you have a doctor on board for this sort of thing?" I asked, through clenched teeth as I shoved the rag between them.
He shrugged. "Of course. But the poor old codger is going a little daft. I could call him for you though, if you'd prefer it?" He raised an eyebrow. I shook my head, wincing as his hand smoothed over the skin of my stomach. It was turning a sick greenish purple.
He reached up to pluck the rag from my mouth and wiped his hand on it. "You'll have to stand up for this part." He said quietly, bending over me to slip his hands beneath my shoulders so he could lift me. There was nothing sensual about his touch…this was all doctor and patient in his eyes, I realized.
He pulled me to my feet and I swayed, my reflexes still sharp as I grabbed hastily for my breeches when they started to slide down my hips.
The buckle of my belt chose this time to sever the few threads still holding it on and hit the floor with a small thump. Jack's hands dropped away from me instantly, and he was lucky I could still keep my balance.
His eyes were dark, all the good humor gone from them, and his mouth was a thin, hard line. He gave a half cough, as he cleared his throat, his own anger choking his words. "And the ratlines? They tore the belt from your breeches too, did they?"
I kept my eyes on the floor. "Yes." I said flatly.
His breath hissed through clenched teeth. "If you say so." He turned, stormed away and tore through a bureau, coming forth with another belt. And taking hold of my ruined breeches himself, he pushed my hands away and buckled the new belt snugly around my waist, minding my bruise.
"Put your arms out." He ordered, unrolling a skein of linen. I did, and he wrapped it around my ribs. The pressure was both blissful and agonizing, but I gritted my teeth and refused to cry.
When he was finished, he settled my shirt back properly, and guided me back onto the pallet. He then turned and headed towards the door, anger radiating off of him in an almost palpable manner.
"Jack…wait." I said quickly.
He was sure as salt, going to go and question the crew, and he needed to do nothing to make Barbossa angry now. If that vile man came back and attacked me in this state…I was finished...
He turned at the sound of his first name, hand poised above the door handle.
"Please…don't leave. Come back." I said quietly, a blush burning in my face. He came towards me until he stood inches from the bed, looking down at me with flat eyes. I swallowed my pride and continued..."Will you lay by me? Please…my side feels like it's on fire." I mumbled, looking down, hoping my excuse was good enough.
He didn't say a word in answer, but lowered himself down next to me gently. I rolled over so that I was lying on my good side, and pressed my back up against the heat that was his chest. His arm slipped over me hesitantly, his hand settling on my thigh, so he could avoid putting pressure of my broken ribs. I sighed, enjoying his warmth, and I felt my muscles relax.
Then I felt his breath on my neck, he leaned over so that his mouth was just above my ear. I heard him lick his lips before he said quietly, "Stay away from the ratlines."
I chuckled softly, and closed my eyes. The pain in my side turning into a throbbing ache as the balm he had used began to work.
OOO
