Cursed disclaimers!

Thanks, as always, for your reviews – although I can never have too many of them! (hint, hint)

Chapter Fourteen:

Jack opened a bleary eye, wondering why his bunk felt softer than usual until he remembered and he blinked a few times, focusing on the woman sleeping beside him, one arm curled beneath her head and the other flung carelessly across him. He gently brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and resisted the urge to kiss her sleep plumped lips. 'Why do you affect me so?' he mused as he lay on his side watching her in the pale morning light. 'Why couldn't you have been a woman of the world instead of an innocent girl?' Jack chuckled softly to himself. 'It's because she's innocent that you find her so appealing,' he realised, shaking his head and smiling, ackowledging that there were times during his life when he felt jaded and in need of more agreeable things that had nothing to do with piracy and lawlessness. He uttered a sigh as Celia snuggled up closer to him, pressing her soft body against his, causing stirrings in his groin. 'Bloody hell,' Jack cursed, trying to inch away from her as desire swept through his blood, wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms but knowing he would lose her trust forever if he did. He held his breath as she muttered in her sleep and rolled ever closer to him, then inched away again until he found himself at the edge of the bunk with nowhere left to go but the cabin deck.

"Jack…" Celia murmured sleepily, a smile playing on her lips. "Jack!" Her eyes shot open and she stared in horror at him grinning sheepishly at her. "Oh, Lord, no!" she wailed, grabbing the coverlet and pulling it up to her chin.

"Ah… a tad late fer that, I'm afraid," Jack informed her with a rueful smile.

"How could you?" Celia cried, instantly regretting the noise as her head pounded with pain. "Oh…" she groaned, loosing the covers and holding her head.

"I didn't," he defended. "You fell asleep!"

"But you were going to," Celia retorted, glaring at him accusingly. "Oh, my head…"

"Actually, luv… it was you who were all over me," he smiled winsomely. "I virtually had ter fight you off."

"You liar! How could you tell such a barefaced lie to me?"

"All right," he shrugged. "Maybe I didn't actually fight you off…"

"I would never had thrown myself at you," she croaked, wishing her head did not belong on her shoulders. "Never! Now let me go."

"I'm not actually holdin' you, luv. It's th'other way around…"

"Get out – out!" Celia ordered, pushing him and making him fall from the bunk, landing on the deck with a thud.

"Ow! What th'hell did you do that for?" he grumbled as he gingerly picked himself up, wincing as Celia screamed. "You'll regret doin' that…" he warned, nodding to himself as she held her head once more, whimpering with the pain. "Told you."

"You're naked," she whispered, not daring to speak any louder. "Cover yourself up, please."

"You're as naked as me," Jack chuckled, pulling a blanket from the bunk and wrapping it around his middle.

"Oh, Lord, don't remind me… why did you let me drink so much? Did you plan it?"

"Actually, no," he admitted. "You were frettin' over not realisin' it was Christmas an' worried about minglin' with th'men, so I thought it'd relax you a little. I guess I underestimated how relaxed you'd actually be – sorry, luv."

"Please, Jack - just this once, tell me the truth. Did I throw myself at you?"

Jack pulled a face as he wondered whether to tell her the truth or not, before nodding slowly. "I guess th'booze let you admit ter yourself how you really feel, eh?"

"Don't start," Celia sighed. "I'm not in the mood. Oh, crikey – I'm going to…" Celia shot off the bunk and all but dived into the small side cabin, retching into the head.

"Be sick?" Jack finished with a wry smile. "I think we'll stick ter wine in future, eh?"

"Better still, no alcohol at all," she muttered, still with her head halfway down the hole cut into the planking.

"That'd make life exceedingly borin'," he mused, walking over to the side cabin and leaning on the doorframe, watching her sympathetically.

"It would save feeling like this. How in the world can you drink as much as you do? Why do you drink as much as you do?"

"Firstly, I'm used ter drinking, although I don't drink as much as people suspect I do. Secondly, ter relieve th'boredom sometimes. It gets very lonely an' very borin' being captain of a ship. Sometimes th'bottle's your only friend, savvy?"

"So get a pet then," she sniped, her queasiness making her crotchety.

"We do have cats on board, but they never come in my cabin. I blame Barbossa, myself."

"You've mentioned him before. Who is he?"

"When you're feelin' better, I'll tell you. But right now, what you need is some food inside you."

"Oh, no," she groaned, heaving once more. "I couldn't, really…"

"It's th'best thing. Soak up what's in your stomach. I know fer a fact that Toby has some fresh flour in, so th'bread is likely ter be nicer than normal. How about I send fer some, eh?"

"You can have it, I won't even look at it," Celia declared, easing herself upright, then remembering she had nothing on. "Did you… touch me?" she asked fearfully, wanting to cover herself with her hands but realising the futility of it.

"Only when you were willin'. As soon as you fell asleep, all I did was hold you, savvy?"

"W-where did y-you touch me?"

"Just your breasts," Jack assured her. "Nowhere else, I promise."

"I thought you were supposed to be the infamous Jack Sparrow," she teased, smiling weakly.

"I am – so a word of this ter anyone an' it's down ter th'brig with you!" he warned with a broad wink. "I'll get my breeches on an' send fer some bread."

Celia hurried to the bunk, covering herself up to the chin once more, and tried not to watch as Jack retrieved his breeches from the cabin deck and leaned against the edge of the bunk to pull them on. "Did I… make a fool of myself in front of the crew?"

"A little," he chuckled. "But they'll never remember it. Not th'amount of rum I provided fer them last night."

"Was there no-one on watch then?"

"Aye – they'll have their party tonight. Care ter join them?" he joked, flashing her a golden grin.

"I think I'll pass," she winced. "Does that mean we get another nice meal?"

"Heh! It does, as a matter of fact. But we'll be havin' it in th'mess." Jack padded across the main cabin and pulled open the door, his eyes scanning the decks for any sign of trouble or a crewman slacking on watch duties. But to his relief, all seemed well with his precious ship. He picked his way over prostrate bodies strewn across the decks until he reached the hatch and leaned down, yelling for someone to bring food to his cabin, then made his way back to his cabin, unsurprised to find Celia finishing dressing. "It shouldn't be long," he smiled, undressing her once more in his mind's eye.

"I hope that you don't think that because I… well, you know, that I will be willing another time," she told him. "It was purely because I am not used to drink that I behaved as I did. Do not read any more into it."

"If that's what you want ter believe," Jack shrugged. "But you an' I both know differently, eh?"

"Yer breakfast, Cap'n, Miss Celia," Oliver Fernan announced as he pushed open the cabin door with his foot, his hands being burdened with a tray filled with bread and cheese and a pitcher of water.

"That was quick. Toby out fer th'count?" Jack enquired.

"Dead as a nail," the Irishman confirmed. "As are most of them."

"But not you," Celia observed, smiling warmly at him.

"I can hold my drink better than most," he bragged. "An' I didn't drink all that much last night, anyway."

"I wish I hadn't," she lamented. "Oh, goodness!" Celia exclaimed, suddenly remembering. "I embarrassed myself in front of you! I am so sorry, Oliver."

"Ah, don't yer be worrin' about it," he grinned. "Happens ter us all."

"That'll be all," Jack sniped, dismissing him with a wave of the hand. "Oliver?" he enquired once his crewman had closed the door behind himself and turning to face her, a dark frown creasing his brow. "Since when have you two been firm friends?"

"What is wrong with us being friends?" Celia enquired crossly. "I thought you wanted me to integrate with the crew."

"You're right," Jack soothed, inwardly telling himself to keep the Irishman away from the young woman as much as he could. "I apologise. Now, young lady, get some of this food inside yer an' you'll soon feel better."

"I can't, Jack," she fretted. "I'll be sick again, I know I will."

"Just try a hunk of bread, eh?" he suggested, breaking some off the loaf and holding it out to her. "That won't kill you."

"It's not the killing bit that worries me," she groaned, looking at the bread as if it were about to burst into flames but reaching out and taking it from him, nonetheless.

"Hair of th'dog always works fer me," Jack chuckled, pouring himself a mug of ale and downing it almost in one go.

"Yes, well, you're not normal," Celia sniped, taking a small nibble of the bread then a larger bite as her stomach growled.

"Damn! Yer learned that quicker than most," he quipped, chuckling into his mug. "You up to more sewin' today?"

"But… it's Christmas!" Celia protested. "You can't expect me to work on Christmas day?"

"Th'crew have ter work – th'Pearl won't sail herself," Jack shrugged. "Don't see why you should get th'day off, just because it's Christmas."

"I would if I worked at Mister Penhallick's," she pouted, glowering at him as she chewed the bread.

"I doubt it, an' besides, yer not workin' for him now – you're workin' for me, savvy?"

"Don't I know it," she muttered darkly. "I'd better get on with it before you throw me in the brig."

"Stop being childish," Jack sighed. "It doesn't become you…" He watched as the young woman stomped from the cabin, shook his head ruefully. "You've certainly got a lot ter learn, young lady," he mused aloud. "An' I look forward ter teachin' yer."

"Sail ho!" cried Noah Trinity from high on the main mast rigging. "I think it's English, Cap'n."

"Bugger!" Jack swore as he dashed from his cabin as squinted up to see which direction his crewman was pointing before taking out his spyglass and peering through it at the billowing white sails to the starboard horizon. "Damn, but you've got good eyes, Noah," he muttered in awe as he saw the Union Jack fluttering wildly in the breeze. He looked around at the crew, most still out cold or nursing violent hangovers and he weighed up the pros and cons of attack.

"There's half th'crew capable," Oliver reported as he approached his captain. "They've likely had a long journey an' are worn out an' maybe sick…" he added, nodding towards the other ship.

"That still only leaves thirty or so men to attack," Jack pondered, stroking his beard braids.

"Some of th'others are sober enough ter join in," the helmsman informed him.

"We'll follow them fer a while. Give th'crew time ter sober up," he decided with a firm nod.

"Aye, aye, Cap'n," Oliver beamed, turning away and barking the order to ready the ship for pursuit.

"W-we're chasing that s-ship?" Celia stammered from where she had been standing at the hatchway, listening to what was going on.

"Aye," Jack nodded. "There's no guarantees that we'll attack, so don't start frettin' just yet."

"And w-what am I to do if y-you d-do attack?"

Jack frowned as he finally faced up to the fact that he had a young, frightened woman on board a ship of violence - a ship of war. "You'll be safe enough in my cabin," he lied, knowing that if the other ship retaliated, nowhere on board was truly safe. "They rarely fight back…"

"But they do," Celia pressed. "Don't they?"

"Yes, sometimes they do, luv," he sighed. "I'll do everythin' I can ter make sure you're safe, savvy?"

"It doesn't make any difference one way or the other. You cannot ensure my safety, whatever you say. Excuse me, I have work to do…" Celia strode past him, biting her lip and avoiding his eyes as she made her way to the quarterdeck, swab and pail in her hands.

"I don't know we're attacking yet," Jack protested, throwing his arms up.

"But you will one day," came the riposte, over her shoulder.

"We're pirates, luv – it's what we do."

"I never asked to be brought on board."

"Damn!" Jack muttered, unable to reply to her blunt point, instead taking his spyglass and looking once more at the British schooner now to their starboard bow as the Black Pearl changed course and headed towards them.

"Is this wise, Jack?" Joshamee Gibbs enquired as he peered through bleary eyes at the ship, now much closer than when his captain had first seen her.

"Pirates fight best when they've had some grog inside them," Jack assured the older man. "Besides, you've recovered well enough an' I'll bet you were th'drunkest of th'lot!"

The quartermaster sighed heavily, knowing it was useless to try and argue once Jack's mind was made up and went on his way, barking orders to men to loose more sail. If they were going to attack, he'd rather get it over and done with than have the chase dragged out all day long.

"Celia, luv," Jack called, as he spotted the former novice making her way down the poop deck steps. "Come here…"

"Yes?" she enquired, easing her aching shoulders from where she had been hunched over yet more sewing. "Please don't tell me you have something else to sew."

"Nah," Jack chuckled, moving behind her and massaging her shoulders, his long, flexible fingers working at the knots. "I just want you ter batten down everythin' in th'cabin, savvy? I'll give yer th'keys to th'trunks an' you can put all breakables away fer me. I'm afraid you'll have ter work out which key is which yerself."

"And what am I to do with myself?" she asked, supressing a shiver at the feel of his fingers on her flesh.

"Get yourself as far away from th'windows as yer can an' wrap as many blankets around you as possible, savvy?"

"What's the point if I won't be by the windows?" Celia wondered, sighing as his fingers eased the pain.

"Because th'splinters are far more deadly than any shard of glass," Jack warned forebodingly. "If you're well wrapped up in thick blankets an' suchlike, you should be safe enough." 'I hope…' he thought to himself, smiling as he noticed the redness of her neck. "We'll have ter get you a hat," he chuckled. "Can't have yer being burned now, can we?"

"Yes we can!" she stated, shuddering as she remembered the cage in which she had been kept on board the Sea's Cutlass, covered to ensure she did not tan and therefore fetch a better price.

"I'm not saying you can't get brown," Jack replied gently, realising the cause of her outburst. "But it hurts like hell when yer burn, savvy?"

"All right," Celia sighed, moving away as the friction of his skin against hers started to make her neck sore. "I shall go and start in the cabin."

"Good girl," he grinned, fishing a bunch of keys from his coat pocket and handing them to her, slapping her bottom as she passed him and shrugging innocently as she glowered at him. "Yer arse is even nicer in breeches," Jack teased, once she was far enough away not to strike him.

'And your arse is even nicer without them,' she contemplated wryly to herself, her hands flying to her mouth in horror at the thought. 'How on earth could you think like that? You are not some common whore…' Celia leaned against the cabin doors as she closed them behind her, and sank to her knees. "What are you doing to me?" she wondered aloud, frowning as she remembered never feeling overly shocked when Aggie and Giselle had said similar things about some men. "Maybe I am some common whore," she lamented with a deep sigh, hauling herself back to her feet and wandering over to the trunks, eyeing the many keys ruefully, wondering how on earth Jack could know which key was for which lock.

'Now…' Jack pondered, his finger pressing against his lips as he stared in the direction that Celia had gone. 'What on earth did she think that shocked her so, I wonder…?' he mused, having seen the horrified look on her face as her hands shot up to her mouth. 'I hope it was about me.' Jack chuckled aloud, drawing curious glances from passing crewmen. "Back ter work, yer scurvy dogs!" he barked, the order losing some of its bite thanks to the smile still hovering on his lips.

Celia whimpered as another boom sounded and the Black Pearl rocked violently in the water. She could hear wood tearing and shattering and she braced herself for the pain of being speared, in spite of her cowering beneath all of the blankets and coverlets she could find, not to mention a couple of (she hoped) old coats of Jack's. She heard groans of someone who had obviously been caught up in the attack and she prayed that it was not Jack. 'Or Joshamee,' she chided herself, not wanting to care about the pirate captain, or at least, just about the pirate captain. 'Or Oliver,' she fretted, liking the man more than she realised. "Oh, grief," she muttered. "I don't want anybody to be hurt." But she understood as she said it, that it was more to do with caring about people in general than any affection she might have towards the crew of the pirate ship. Her head shot up as she heard what sounded like muffled cheers and she risked pulling her makeshift protection down and chewing her lip when she realised that they were coming from the decks of the Pearl. "Please don't let them kill anyone," Celia prayed, working her rosary beads in agitation. "Oh, I don't think I can bear this…" She fought her way from the protective covering and hurried across to the cabin doors, yanking them open. She cried out in horror as she saw Jack facing a man and holding a sword so the blade flashed between their faces and was about to hurl herself across the deck to stop Jack from killing the man, when she found herself restrained by Oliver Fernan's strong arms.

"Leave it be," he told her. "It won't do ter interfere."

"B-but, he's going to kill him."

"Nah, he's not. Watch…"

Celia could hardly bring herself to look at Jack but soon found herself frowning with confusion as he thrust the sword into his sword belt and nodded at the man before him.

"If yer sail southwest, you'll reach land by nightfall, savvy?" Jack told him.

"T-thank you, I think," the man replied, looking in as much confusion as Celia before turning on his heels and hurrying over to the side, looking in amazement as his crewmates milled about in their ship's boats, their captain having been killed in the second wave of cannon fire from the pirates.

"Off yer go then, before I change my mind…" Jack chuckled menecingly.

"W-why?" Philip Metcalfe, first mate of the Felixstowe Maiden, enquired as he climbed over the rail to the Jacob's ladder, not understanding why the pirates were releasing them.

"Because, son, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy?" Jack watched as he scurried down to the boat, urging his men to row quickly in a southwesterly direction, and he grinned broadly. There had not been much in the way of goods in the hold of the ship, but she was as fine a specimen of galleon as Jack had seen for quite some time and he looked forward to selling her in Tortuga, where he had now decided they were headed.

"You let them go?" came Celia's excredulous voice beside him, breaking him from his reverie.

"Aye, luv. I let them go."

"But… why…? You're pirates…"

"Not all pirates are th'same. I expect not all nuns are th'same, are they?"

"N-no… but…" Celia gulped as Jack cupped her face in his calloused hands and stared into her dark brown eyes, a mirror image of his own.

"One day you'll learn… you'll actually listen when I tell yer that not everythin' is black an' white. There are many shades of grey. Good pirates an' bad pirates. Good clergy an' bad clergy, good lovers an' bad lovers," he teased, kissing the tip of her nose. "Now get yourself back in the cabin… an' bolt th'doors," Jack added quietly. Many of his crew were still alcohol fuelled and the bloodlust continued to flow through their veins. He did not want Celia in the firing line if men started to fight, or worse, decide that they wanted a woman badly enough to attack her and hang the consequences.

"W-why?"

"Don't ask, just do, savvy?"

Celia nodded, the tone in his voice brokering no arguments, and she hastened back across the deck, smiling weakly at Oliver, before disappearing into the cabin and throwing the bolts with trembling fingers. She did not know why Jack had ordered her back in, and she was not sure she wanted to judging by the look on his face as well as the tone in his voice.

"Burford, get together a crew of around twenty men an' go over to th'galleon," Jack ordered. "Make fer Tortuga, savvy? Oh, an' Myles… make sure they're men you can trust, eh?"

"Aye, Cap'n," the helmsman nodded, understand his captain's meaning. He would not mutiny and make off with the galleon, but he knew that some amongst the crew would not hesitate.

"We'll cover yer," Jack told him. "Don't bother with th'guns, just sail her in."

"We will," Myles agreed before going to seek out men he already had in mind.

Jack nodded to himself, knowing their prize was in good hands and made his way across to his cabin, knocking on the door when he reached it. "It's me, Celia, let me in."

"Is it all over now then?" she asked as she opened the doors to him. "Why did you tell me to come in here and lock the doors?"

"Yes, it's all over," Jack assured her, turning to throw the bolts back again. "An' some of th'men are still drunk – they're likely ter start fightin' amongst themselves – I don't want yer caught up in th'middle of it," he evaded, seeing no reason to frighten her with the truth.

"So why have you locked the doors again? Surely they wouldn't fight in here, would they?"

"Yer never know," he shrugged. "Some lose control an' I don't want ter risk it."

"You mean they might attack me," Celia sighed, finally coming to the reality of the situation. "And you wouldn't be able to stop them…"

Jack sighed heavily, cursing the fact that the young woman was more astute than she appeared. "Nah," he lied, he hoped convincingly. "I was mutineed against, led by that Barbossa I've mentioned. They were mostly out of their minds with drink at th'time, except him." Jack spat the last word with such venom that it made Celia start and look at him a little worriedly. "I know what drink does ter men – how it affects those whose minds aren't strong."

"I-I see," she nodded. "So, shouldn't you be out there, looking out for trouble?"

" I intend ter be, I just wanted ter make sure you're all right, savvy?" Jack smiled, relieved to see that she apparently believed him. "Not hurt, are you?"

"No. Just a little shaken, that's all. I-I thought y-you were going to kill that man."

"I don't kill fer th'sake of it, luv. I'm not a callous bastard."

"I know you're not," Celia sighed. "It's just… I have this idea of what pirates should be like and you just don't fit into the ideal pirate. Why are you a pirate?"

"I don't have time ter go through my life history," Jack shrugged apologetically. "Not that I intend ter anyway," he teased, winking at her. "Now, don't open th'door ter anybody but me, savvy?"

"All right," Celia frowned, fear churning in her stomach. She knew that he was not telling the truth about the only danger being from the men fighting. "W-what if… never mind," she sighed, turning away from him.

"What if what?" Jack enquired, reaching out and stopping her from moving. "You'll be safe enough in here," he told her gently, turning her back to face him.

"What if something happens to you? How safe will I be then?" she demanded, biting her lip.

"Celia, luv," he sighed, pulling her to him and holding her, a tendril of unease snaking its way inside him. "Nothin's goin' ter happen ter me, savvy? We hit ships all th'time an' they've never gone against me before."

"You've never had an innocent young virgin on board before," she snapped, mocking herself with a snort of derision and feeling altogether too comfortable in his arms.

"They don't think that you're an innocent young virgin, savvy?"

"Oh… but I'm still in danger, aren't I?"

"No," Jack assured her, squeezing her tighter. "I'm just being over cautious." He drank in her scent, wishing her hair was longer so that he could bury his face in it, but instead, reluctantly pulled away. "Now I really must be goin'."

"I can open the door to Joshamee and Oliver, though, can't I?" she smiled.

"No! Just me. Promise me, Celia."

"Oh, now you are being silly, Captain Sparrow," she chided. "Joshamee and Oliver wouldn't harm me…"

"Maybe not, but you're not openin' th'door to them," he ordered firmly as he walked across the cabin to the doors.

"All right," Celia sighed, rolling her eyes at him and thinking that he was making a mountain out of a molehill. "I promise I won't open the door to anybody but you, happy?"

"Ecstatic," he grinned, turning to plant a kiss on her head. "See yer later!"

"No doubt," she replied, closing the door and pushing to bolts firmly in place before heading for the stern seats and the bible which he had brought her.