Chapter Nine
Canned Heat
in which our characters' course is indelibly altered
Night was deepening when Stephen and Cora at last returned to the orlop at Jack's behest. It would take time for it to sink into the crew's collective skull that she wasn't the murderer, and he wasn't about to have another crime on his hands.
"Let me see that wound of yours." He said when they arrived. Her shirt was still tinged red with blood.
She'd taken his bandages off some time before, so he was forced to put new ones on and redo some of his stitching when she sat on his table and pulled her shirt out of the way. They were utterly silent when he did so, and utterly comfortable as well. They could feel the heavy press of nearby land, but here in the relative darkness it was easy to pretend it wasn't there. There was no rush to leave, nowhere else to go. They didn't want to be anywhere but where they were.
"Hopefully you won't get much of a scar."
"It wouldn't matter if I did. I already have so many."
She took his hands and led him to trace the scars he'd vaguely noticed before- the thin whiplash one on the other side of her ribs (a cutlass), the bullet hole a little higher up (that one nearly killed her) and a dozen other scrapes and cuts that he'd seen on every sailor (a snapped line, flying wood, a myriad of everyday accidents that left their indelible mark). Then she pulled on his wrists so that he was touching her back and his hands glided higher of their own accord.
He jerked at the sudden sensation of thin ridges and bumps and remembered what she'd said when she saw Andersen's back- I've been under the cat before. Let me help with the wounds. The worst one was a long slash from her right shoulder down almost to her left hip, a knotted scar that clearly hadn't healed well.
"From my mother." Cora whispered, her hands on his shoulders. "I left the ship one day in Tortuga and got myself completely drunk with a friend of mine- Finn Walsh. We raised hell for a while and ended up getting chased off into his ship. I stayed at sea with him a week before we were caught by the Navy and escaped by the skin of our teeth. When I finally got back to my mother she was furious. Even my father couldn't stop her." She laughed quietly. "'Twelve lashes for desertion, girl, and heaven help you if you cry out during one.'"
"Was there no one to dress the wounds?" Stephen asked, mentally damning the man who'd called himself a surgeon and done up these cuts. Had it been him they would've been much neater. There'd be no scars to haunt her. No woman should have such scars.
"Anamaria did it. We've never had a regular surgeon. But she knows something of herbs and such, and all of us have bandaged a wound or two. I kept pulling her stitches out, that's why they didn't heal so well."
"I see."
He was about to pull his hands back when she leaned closer and moved her hands to rest on his chest.
"And what of you? Do you have many scars?"
She slid every button of his vest out of its hole and tugged on his shirt until it came free of his breeches, then after a moment's hesitation ran her hands on the surface underneath it. They were nowhere near as soft as the ladies' hands Stephen had known, nor were they quite rough. They were hardened hands. The difference in texture made him shiver and grip her arms.
"Still healing." She murmured, finding the smooth pink skin in the shape of a bullet as her hands traveled downward once more. "From that French ship I've heard about?"
"From the marine captain, Mr. Howard. An accident, I assure you."
"I see." She withdrew her hands and then left them in her lap, uncertain. "Part of the reason my mother whipped me was because she thought Finn and I had... fooled around, when I went off with him. But I didn't. I did kiss him, though. He was my first kiss. He said he loved me. I couldn't love him back. Not at that time in my life. That was right before Jack died." She bore holes through her folded hands with her eyes. "And you? Have you ever loved someone?"
"I did, once. But she never loved me back." He started at his own words. When did he stop loving Diana?
Cora noticed his shock and bit her lip.
"I didn't mean to- that is to say, I didn't want to-" She laughed. "Bloody hell, this is hard. I can't think straight with you this close to me."
"I'd imagine narrowly escaping death didn't help your acuity either." He smiled wryly. He took her hands and looked at the wrists; they were chafed near to bleeding from wearing the shackles. He raised the right hand and kissed the tender skin.
"You have scars here too." He murmured, rubbing his thumb along the place he just kissed. He met her eyes again and saw that she was watching him through her eyelashes. Her lips were slightly parted.
"I've been chained so many times I don't think I've ever really been free." Her voice dropped to a whisper as she stood from the table. "I want to be free."
The kiss started slow, a tiny peck, then arms around necks and parted lips and a dart of tongue that made Cora shiver. It was a slow building, a crescendo that worked itself into a fever pitch, and Stephen found himself wondering as he pressed her back against the table if that was the way she played the violin, with such fever, if that was how it would feel when they-
He jerked away, holding her at arm's length. His loss of control whirled through him and he struggled to regain it. She stood looking at him with swollen lips and hurt eyes for some time before he found the strength to speak through his longing.
"They... they would know. Everyone. There is nowhere on this ship we could be safe. Nowhere we could be alone. There isn't even a decent bed, for all love. And I couldn't... Cora, the first thing you ever said to me was that you weren't a whore. I can't-"
She put a hand to his lips.
"Stephen Maturin, I want you, and it is the simplest thing in our world right now. Tell me that you don't feel the same and I will never do this again."
He couldn't.
She took a shuddering breath and smoothed down the front of his shirt, carefully buttoning his vest once more. Her hands were shaking.
"On the north side of Isla Cruces there is a ruined church and thick jungle. Some distance into the jungle there is a small pool of freshwater and a cave with bats in it. Sometime tomorrow, when we've made camp, say that you are going to see the bats. Say they're some rare species. Make your own camp there and wait for me." She gripped the front of his vest now that it was buttoned. "I'm a pirate. When I want something, I have an inclination to come and take it, damn the costs. I will find a way to come to you."
Every iota of logic and every grain of sense in Stephen told him that it was madness. Their world was balanced on the edge of an alreadybloodysword. An action like this could- would -send it tumbling. It could destroy them both. But he remembered her body against his only moments before and realized that there was no way that he could say no.
Cora was right- they wanted each other, and it was the simplest thing in their world at present. If he said no and let her walk away from this, or if (God forbid) she should die in the battle to come, she would become another phantom of his waking and sleeping thoughts, another reason to count the drops of laudanum. Another Diana.
Perhaps there was something to be said for sailors- and pirates -in singular pursuit of a prize. They thought only of obtaining it, and they pursued it without hesitation. They usually got what they wanted. He wished only that he could be pirate enough to ignore the inevitable costs.
He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight against his chest and agreed.
"How the devil did that waterwheel get there in the shallows?" Jack asked as the Surprise spilled the wind from her sheets off the coast of Isla Cruces, bringing her to a near stop on the sea.
"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me." Miss Turner said with a wry shake of her head and a glance at the heavens.
"Then tell me where the best place to wait for the Running would be."
The pirate went to the rail and scanned the coast for a moment. Somewhere in the course of her stay on the ship she'd lost her bandana, and her hair was free to play on the wind.
"Sail around for another hour or so. On the northeast coast is where we have our cache. There's a deep cove there where you can anchor the Surprise and keep watch." She paused. "There are some interesting ruins nearby there."
Jack noticed her swift glance to Stephen, but the captain's closest friend didn't seem to. He couldn't say what the look meant, but he felt uneasy after its passing, as if shoals were rearing under his lee.
"Thank you very much, Miss Turner." He turned now to address the crew. "Lads, we're taking a bit of shore leave tonight, so get ready to make camp. We'll watch for the Running from there. Miss Turner has informed me that they are likely to approach from the north, but I'd keep a weather eye out in all directions. For now set only the courses and get me a constant reading of the depth. I don't trust these shallows."
True to Miss Turner's word, after an hour of sailing around the island they found a deep cove to anchor in. The sailors loaded themselves and their provisions into the longboats and headed ashore to set up camp on the flat, grassy area above the beach. Jack's sea legs made the ground seem too solid as he moved about directing the construction of the camp. The sensation irritated him vaguely, but he forgot it when he saw Stephen stumbling about the sandy slope, clearly having more trouble with it than he.
"There you are, Stephen. Let me help you. You are not injured, old soul? Good. Would you like some help with your own quarters for our stay? I'm sure someone is idle."
"No, thank you. I've heard that there is a prodigious rare species of bat living in a cave on this island- I intend to observe them tonight when they are active, so I'll sleep away from the camp. If you could, just give me a tent and something to sleep on and I'll set it up on my own."
"Must there be some sort of strange beast on every island we go to?" Jack sighed. "Very well. But just for tonight, if it can be helped. I don't want you to be out there alone when the Running arrives. I'll need you in the battle."
"Of course," Stephen murmured. "Just for tonight."
"Are you quite well?" Jack frowned.
"Yes, of course. Do I look ill?"
"Not now. But for a moment..." Jack lost his train of thought when he saw Miss Turner coming towards them, the last longboat unloading behind her. "Miss Turner, do you intend to stay the night here in the camp with the crew, or on the Surprise?"
"Here on land, if it's no trouble to you, captain."
"Not at all. You shall have the other tent to yourself, the doctor has just declined it."
"Thank you, sir." She walked away without a backward glance to see about setting it up. Blakeney, Mowett and even a few brave sailors approached her, trying to cajole her into joining a friendly card game. She smiled and allowed them to pull her along. Both Jack and Stephen watched as she went, until at last Stephen broke the spell.
"I shall leave as well. I'm not sure how long it will take me to find the cave. Until tomorrow, Jack."
Jack said his good-byes and watched Stephen begin to pack the things he'd require. A few of the sailors had already improvised a game of cricket and others were organizing a hunt. Within a week, the Running would be his and he could go home to reap the rewards of the Acheron's capture. It was as perfect a scene as he could wish. But the world still felt unsteady beneath his feet, and it wasn't just because of his sea legs.
Stephen found the old church without much difficulty, since it was the only landmark on the island. He avoided the graves that pockmarked its yard, many of which were open and simply asking for an unsuspecting man to walk by and fall in. He nearly did so once or twice before heading into the dense jungle behind it.
After that it was harder, especially with the few crates he was carrying to make his tale seem more believable and the pack on his back. It wasn't until much later he found the clearing Cora spoke of.
They couldn't hope for a more private spot. The clearing, an egg shape perhaps a hundred feet in length and fifty in width, was surrounded on every side by the same thick foliage he'd fought through. A clear, round pool took up much of it, but there was still room enough for his small pavilion. The pool was bordered by the large rock formation that housed the cave.
After resting and drinking from the pool, Stephen began to set up the tent. With every move he made he realized how foolish, how irrational this was. He still couldn't stop himself from feeling the occasional tremor of anticipation.
His labor done, he headed into the cave to see if there was any truth to the lie he'd fed Jack. There were bats, but he didn't make them out to be any rarity. Sitting in the cool darkness watching them made him a little heartsick for his castle in Spain and the bats he'd always watched there. It had been far, far too long since he'd been to his real home.
When all this is over, I'll go back there. He decided. But who could say how all this would end? Would he take Cora home with him? It is impossible to know the future. With that he banished the thoughts from his head.
He spent the rest of the day in solitude, reading, writing, even taking another walk through the jungle. Cora hadn't said when she'd come to him. She'd simply sworn that she would. He trusted her to uphold that promise.
Night came with agonizing slowness and he retreated into the tent when darkness fell. He'd brought no candles and no lantern, so he could read no more. Instead he lay on the bed he'd made until there was no option but too sleep.
When Stephen woke he wasn't sure how long he'd slept or what exactly woke him. He sat up slowly, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the deep nighttime gloom, and started a bit when he saw someone framed in the door his tent. It took another moment before some moonlight happened to pass by and silhouette the female body. He got to his feet and took a step or two forward. Cora met him close to the door.
They both trembled and barely kept their lips together. Stephen put steadying hands on her shoulders and found her muscles in tight knots. One sleeve of her shirt had already slipped off and he was startled by the bare skin. He smoothed his hand over it as her hand found the open neck of his shirt and touched him. They broke their kiss at last and found each other's eyes. They glistened in the dark.
There were leaves in her hair from her trek through the jungle- he pulled them out before he took her hand and led her backwards towards the low bed he'd created out of blankets and pillows. She pushed on his shoulders and he sat down on it; he pulled on her waist so she'd sit straddling his legs. She pulled her shirt over her head. His hands went once more to the healing cuts on her side, the first part of her he'd ever touched.
She took his hand and guided it up to her face so she could kiss the palm.
"Are you a doctor tonight, or will you be my lover?"
"I will be whatever you ask of me."
He could sense her smile in the dark and she kissed him open-mouthed. He left the wounds be.
She freed him of his shirt and tossed it aside, then moved forward so that she straddled his hips. The entire length of their bodies touched and they could feel the fever of their naked skin. Cora jerked at the sudden contact and the feel of the hardened flesh between her thighs. For the first time, the import of what they were doing seemed to hit her. She shifted on top of him like a horse about to shy, clearly unaware that this didn't help what either of them was feeling. He'd never doubted her when she said she wasn't a whore.
"Never worry, soul." Stephen whispered, stroking her fine dark hair. "Don't be afraid." He had no idea what he could mean by the words.
"I'm not." She countered, kissing him with more force. "I'm not afraid of this. I'm only afraid of the after. I'm afraid you'll see that I'm really only good at sailing and fighting. Though I'm told experience is the best teacher here too."
Stephen laughed and kissed her again, more lingeringly this time. He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her body. He tried to roll them gracefully onto the bed but failed, landing squarely on top of her. His body pulsed with the need to remain there and bring the contact even closer, to drive himself into her until their bodies were one. His hips pressed down against hers in the most ancient instinct known to mankind.
He had to sit up for her to pull off his breeches and his smalls. Then Cora raised her hips for him, so he could pull off the rest of her clothes. Very slowly, she pulled him back to her. Her kisses were more hesitant now, and Stephen pulled back to look her in the eyes one final time. There was no trace of hesitation there, though, and he reflected that while men had said that woman was the one who submitted to man in intercourse and was therefore lesser, in truth it was the woman who gave permission and was therefore equal.
"Hold fast," He caught her saying as she wrapped her legs around his waist.
Afterwards was nothing but instinct. No thought of the consequences, or of the great After that had frightened Cora. She didn't even seem to feel pain when he entered her. He had paused, but she kissed him with an urgency that begged him to go on.
He didn't register how long they were joined. All he could feel was a steady building heat within them both, canned by their skins and all their fears. He registered the flex of her muscles and the strain of his as she tightened around him and came.
Inside of her is as wet as without, he managed to think before the heat flashed over him too and he collapsed on top of her, slack with completion.
When he came down from his high Stephen tried to draw himself out of Cora, but she stopped him with a hand on the small of his back.
"I like it this way." She murmured, kissing his neck and what she could reach of his chest. "Again later, perhaps?" She asked, her breath warm on his cooling skin.
He had to roll away from her then so he could laugh to himself. She was not far behind, nestling into his side.
"I have never heard you laugh so much before."
"If hearing me laugh twice in one night is surprising, I must be a very dull man."
"Don't worry, love. If you weren't a dull man tonight would've been slightly more painful."
They both laughed now, and contented themselves with lying close together. Cora was tracing patterns on Stephen's skin, a mesmerizing dance. She seemed to be drumming up her courage, for when she spoke it was cautiously.
"Am I a whore now, Stephen?"
"Not in the smallest sense, joy. Not at all."
She rolled on top of him and kissed him, and they decided as one that 'later' had come.
Cora awoke feeling muddled. There was no ship to rock her back to sleep and the light was too bright to pretend it was still nighttime.
"It was the nightingale, and not the lark..." She mumbled to herself, remembering her grand-godfather teaching herself and her sister to read with a pilfered copy of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. She'd always thought the scene where they parted after their wedding night was the most tragic in the play. Death was one thing, but it was finite and final. There was no uncertainty, no days spent wondering whether the one they loved was dead or alive. The hope was what made it tragic.
Oddly enough, it took her a bit to realize that there was someone lying beside her, and a bit longer for the night before to come trickling back. She nestled down in the covers again, feeling vaguely embarrassed. Stephen was lying on his back, one hand on his stomach, while she curled up against his side. His other arm was around her loosely, and his body emanated a pleasing heat.
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate... And rough winds do shake the darling buds of May..." Speaking Shakespeare aloud had a feel of the forbidden. Her mother had outlawed it on the Running after Jack died. All of this had a feeling of the forbidden. But it wasn't wrong.
She kissed the pale curve of his bare shoulder and then lay her cheek there, and it felt so good just to rest her head, to forget everything around them and everything they would have to go back to. She could feel him stirring at her touch and kissed him again and again in the same spot, then moved up to kiss his neck and then his ear.
"A thousand times good morning..." She whispered to him when he opened his eyes.
Stephen blinked once or twice and then made a sound of sleepy confusion, which made Cora laugh. She rolled onto her back and laughed and laughed as she had never laughed before. It occurred to her that she had never felt so free as she did now, lying naked on her back in the shimmering heat of the Caribbean beside a man that she had only known for two weeks that she loved unequivocally. The closest sensation to it was the first time she took the helm of the Running in her hands and was granted the freedom of the seas.
She sent that memory away quickly. She didn't want to think of her mother now. She drowned it by kissing Stephen long and deep. He mumbled something against her mouth and kissed her back, rolling her onto her back once more.
"Were you quoting Shakespeare?" Stephen asked, laying on top of her. "Mm-hmm." Cora stretched her arms above her head and moved her hair so that it was splayed above her on the pillow. Stephen was enticed by her revealed neck and sucked on a spot, making her shiver and grasp his wrist.
They kissed for a long while after that, or just lay there holding each other. Now that their bodies had accustomed to the heat it was hard to break apart; it welded them together with sweat.
"We should probably clean up before we get back." Stephen remarked.
"Do you think it isn't obvious already?" Cora said, a little darkly, following his train of thought.
Soon they moved to the pool nearby, not bothering to put on their clothes. Out of habit they cleaned themselves at first, but then when Cora was bending over to cup water in her hands and throw it on her face, Stephen rested his hand very lightly on the small of her back.
She stood and he took her hand, leading her out until the water pooled around her narrow waist and his hips. Stephen cupped the water in his hand and trickled it slowly over her head, doing it again and again until it was wet through. His fingers slid through the wet strands slowly, lovingly, and then he tipped her head back and kissed her. Cora reached behind him and reached for water too, trickling it down his back and giggling at his shiver. Her hands rubbed up and down the length of his back, giving his rear the occasional affectionate squeeze.
Stephen stepped back from Cora, for the first time able to see her form in full. He began to trickle the water over her body just for the joy of watching it run over her breasts. He went to test the weight of one in his hand and was a little muddled when Cora drew away, covering the pebbled pink nipple with her hand. He stole a glance at her face and saw the shyness written there, then smiled and gently moved her hand away, replacing it with his own, and then with his mouth. She rewarded him with a soft sigh as she lifted one leg and wrapped it around him. Their bodies formed an arc whose reflection they could just glimpse, a perfect circle. Her long dark hair cascaded to pool in the water. Her hips rubbed forward against his, sending out spirals of currents.
He sensed her desire and found his body responding despite the cool water. His hand dipped below its surface and ran down the length of her leg, pulling it up to join its fellow. They swayed, searching for balance. Cora was at just the right height to kiss him, her damp hair falling in his face and still smelling like saltwater somehow. Stephen tried to ease into her, but the angle wasn't what either of them wanted. Neither of them could move, and the moment Cora tried to Stephen was toppling back through the water.
Sunlight filtered down from above them and they swam through its mingling beams in a daze until they were on the pond's shore. The tent was mere steps away, but it may as well have been another world. Stephen was inside Cora in one swift glide. He crushed her against the shore, each stroke driving home again and again until she was whimpering, clawing at his back, biting his shoulder. They didn't care about the marks they would leave; Cora had been right. Everyone would already know. For now they wanted to claim each other so that they both knew- you belong to someone, and so you will never be alone.
They surged together in a final tidal wave, then lay spent with the water sucking at their sides the way it touched the hull of a ship, a second embrace around them. Stephen rested his lips against Cora's cheek, too lazy to really kiss her, and tasted saltwater once more. For a hazy moment he believed they'd made love on the shore of the sea and not a tiny pool. But their world was not boundless. It was circumscribed by duty and tradition. It wasn't hard to fathom why there were tears on her cheeks, tears that tasted of the sea.
"I'm sorry." Stephen said as Cora rose, seeing the small trickle of blood between her thighs. He raised himself on his knees and kissed her belly. She ran her fingers through his short hair.
"Don't be."
They went back to the tent and tried to get dressed but couldn't resist joining just once more, half-clothed and languorous. In the end it was just an excuse to go back to being naked and clean up once more, and steal a few extra kisses. The morning was moving on as they finally packed up their tent.
At first as they walked their hands were relaxed at their sides, but then out of habit Stephen caught her hand and put it in the crook of his arm. Arlen leaned against him with the force of her laughter- "Where do you think we are, Hyde Park?" -and then disentangled their arms, entwining their fingers instead. He'd never walked that way with anyone before.
They swung their hands a bit as they walked, and eventually Stephen reached over to pull the bandana out of her hair so it could swing free. She laughed again, and seemed so different than when she was with the crew. He decided that she was consummately feminine out here- that brought a flush of heat to his body, remembering just how feminine she was naked in the pool -and that was the difference. On the Surprise she was just as coarse as the other sailors, and constantly en guarde with her expression and words and deeds. She was constantly defending herself. Here, with him, she was at ease.
He lifted her hand to press his lips to it, and then they stopped in a clearing to share a kiss.
Soon they could hear the roar of the surf. Cora was the first to let go and step away. She carried his crates to keep him from taking her hand again. Her face fell back into its usual composure, and her hair was swept up underneath the bandana she'd tucked into the waist of her breeches. Only a few strands escaped and clung to her sweaty neck, begging to be kissed.
Some naval- or piratical -sense caused Cora to speed up as they neared the encampment. It certainly sounded loud, but she frowned and seemed to pick something up from the nautical clamor that Stephen didn't. She was jogging as they cleared the jungle, and even Stephen felt a rising sense of panic. Then the shouted words became clear.
"Sail ho! Sail ho!"
They ran down the sandbar, Cora flinging the empty cages aside. She looked faint when Stephen caught up and could see her face. Her eyes were trained on the sails in the horizon, with look of utmost horror. Ice clenched his gut when he thought about what it could mean; Cora's choked mutter was an afterthought, a horrible confirmation that their dream was over.
"She's here. Oh God, she's here."
It was the Running.
A/N-- Uh-oh. Here comes Mama Starre, and chances are she ain't happy... well, there's my first full-blown lemon. I'm almost scared to hear what anyone thinks of it. But reviews would still be nice!
Sadly, I won't be able to update for a while. I'm going off camp to train to be a Girl Scout counselor (that's right, I'm going to be corrupting little kiddies) and I won't be back until August 11th. Try and hold on without me!
