Disclaimer: I do not own the X-men or anything associated with them…
A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! Sorry for such the long wait, but this chapter is a bit longer to make up for it.
Chapter 19: Games
Remy woke to the feel of a warm body pressed against his back and a gentle touch stroking his bandaged chest. With his eyes still closed, he inhaled a familiar scent of magnolia and vanilla. Rogue knew the moment Remy awoke, sensed it in some untouchable part of her. Still stroking his chest, she nuzzled his neck and smiled. God, how she had missed him!
"How do you feel, sugah?"
"Remy doesn't feel anything, chere."
"What?" Fear swamped her. What can he mean by that?
But at that moment, Remy shifted ever so slightly and added, "Remy doesn't hurt nearly as much as he should."
"Oh." She tried to hide her relief. "Ah'm an excellent healer," she said, and reached for a cup on the table near the bed. "Drink this."
Remy eyed it dubiously. "What is it?"
"The doctor brought it this morning. It'll help with the mendin', darlin'."
Their gazes caught. "How does Remy know y're not tryin' t' drug 'im in an attempt t' take advantage of 'im?"
A shiver stole up her spine, stealing her breath. "Perhaps Ah am."
"Den Remy'll drink it."
She lifted the cup to his lips, and he drank, though not without a grimace for the bitter taste. "Remy's never had t' take such noxious stuff t' be seduced before, chere."
"But ya've never been seduced by the likes of meh."
"Non," he breathed, "Remy hasn't."
Reaching out, she touched his hand. "Tell meh ya're mendin'."
"Oui," he said. "Don't worry, mon amour."
"Can ya move your arm?"
"What's dat smell?"
He was trying to distract her, and she well knew it, but she let him, for doing otherwise might spoil their careful pretenses that all was well. "Breakfast," she said.
Remy raised his brows. "So y've moved Remy home t' Tante."
She smiled. There was a silent agreement between them. An unspoken pact that said that for now they would speak of no evil, no pain. Instead, they would take what they had and be grateful for it.
"No," she said. "Ah brought home ta ya."
"Oui?"
"Aye." Rising to her feet, she dressed. "The cook has prepared a feast."
Dipping a ladle into the broth, Rogue scooped a bit into a small bowl and turned back to him.
But when she did so, she saw his grimace of pain as he tried to sit up.
"Let meh help, sugah," she insisted, and rushed forward, but he didn't wait. Instead, gritting his teeth, he levered himself into a seated position.
It took him a moment to catch his breath, then, "It'll be a poor seduction if Remy can't even sit up, non?"
Rogue wanted to lash out at those who hurt him. Damn Belladonna and damn Essex! She felt like weeping for his pain, but sympathy rubbed against their careful game of make-believe. "Maybe Ah want ya helpless," she said.
He leaned back, breathing hard from the exertion, and waiting a moment before he spoke again. "And why would dat be, chere?"
"Maybe if ya're helpless…"
"I've always been helpless where y're concerned." He said, the use of the first person not going unnoticed by Rogue.
She waited for the Remy of old to laugh, but he did not. The new Remy made her nervous. "That's not true," she murmured, lowering her gaze.
He watched her in silence. "For someone so wise, chere, y' know Remy little," he said, and reaching up with his good arm, touched her cheek. "I've always been at y'r mercy."
A thousand errant emotions sprang up inside her. She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to his which were still touching her cheek, but in a moment she felt his hand tremble and he carefully lowered it to his lap.
"Drink this," she urged and lifted the bowl to his lips.
Remy took a sip, raised his expressive brows at her, and sipped again, easily draining the bowl. Still leaning back against the headboard, he said, "Remy needs t' stretch his legs, mon chere."
"Ya can't even stand up, sugah," she reminded him.
"Den it'll make what Remy has t' do difficult, non?"
Rogue scowled at his words, but in a moment realization dawned. He had a call of nature. "Oh."
"Oh indeed."
"Ah'll…fetch a…vessel of sorts."
Remy quirked a brow at her. "A vessel?"
"Ta…ya know."
"Non." There was dry humor in his voice, but it did nothing to staunch her embarrassment.
"Ya can't move, darlin'."
"Watch," he said, and shifted his feet slowly to the floor.
"Remy, ya can't," she insisted, rushing to his side.
"Y're wrong," he argued, and easing carefully out from under the covers, pushed himself to his feet. For a moment, he thought his legs would fail him, but he gritted his teeth, pressed his back to one of the bed posts, and stood his ground. "See?" Even that single word was hard fought to produce. "It wasn't dat hard."
"Remy, sit down. Please." Rogue was grasping his arm as if he were no more substantial than a new born calf.
"Y' don't understand, mon amour," he said, trying to sound cavalier. Swooning would put a definite damper on that act. "Remy has need of a privy."
"Let meh help ya."
"Remy's shocked, chere," he exclaimed, but the words were horribly weak and the world seemed to be going black. He leaned his head back against the bed post, and in a moment the dimness passed. "Maybe y' could help a little."
"Remy…"
"I can't lie here all de time."
"Your wounds need more time, darlin'. Ya should be restin'." She said, tugging at his arm.
"More time?" Despite his efforts, he couldn't contain his seriousness. Surprisingly, when he stepped forward, his legs actually moved. He lurched slightly as he did so, and Rogue clutched one arm. But still, he was moving, albeit at a snail's pace.
His foot caught on the covers. He struggled to catch himself, and in that second, pain ripped through his chest. He gasped for breath and stability as colors swarmed in his head. But eventually, the colors faded and he found himself still on his feet.
"Well…" His voice sounded strained and raspy as an old man's. "Isn't dis pleasant?" He found that he had somehow grasped Rogue's hand where it held his arm. He loosened his claw-fingered hold and prayed for some semblance of pride. Had she not done enough to save his worthless hide? Lifting his hand, he patted her fingers. "How lovely t' be out for a stroll with a belle femme like y'."
"Are ya well?" she murmured, her gaze searing his face.
"Well?" With every bit of self-control at his disposal, he forced himself to take another step. It jarred his ribs and ripped at his lungs. "Well 's a relative term, mon chere." Another step, creaked out of his limited resources. "Why, in his younger days Remy could…" He stumbled again, jarring his insides like sacks of loose grain. But he was getting accustomed to the pain. "Remy could stand up all by himself, he could."
"Could he now?" She was trying to pitch her voice up higher, to play along, but her grip on his arm spoke of her tension.
"Oui, he was quite de stallion." He took a few more hard-won steps, then leaned wearily against the doorframe to the privy as he tried to slow the crashing beat of his heart. "Still is, in fact." If he didn't fall right off his feet it would be a splintering miracle. "But for now, Remy believes he's…gone far enough." And his bladder was about to explode. He managed to bring his hands to the laces of his breeches.
"Let meh help ya with that, sugah," she said, still gripping one of his arms.
"Dieu, Rogue!" he rasped. "Give me some pride, will y'!"
"Ah only…"
"Go stand…" He motioned behind him with short jerks of his head, being careful lest he rip something loose in his chest. "Over dere."
"Honesty, Remy, Ah've seen…"
"I know," he said irritably. "Please, chere."
She released his arm slowly and finally moved away.
Remy's hands shook as he untied his laces, but finally his fingers did his bidding, and he gratefully emptied his bladder. Tying his laces proved to be no simpler, but he managed. Turning about was nearly impossible. Nevertheless, he did so without losing consciousness. Even a few tottering, independent steps were accomplished.
"Y' might consider helpin' Remy now 'fore he falls on his face," he said, barely daring to glance toward where Rogue waited.
"Ah had no wish ta rush ya, sugah," she said, striding back to his side.
He shuffled along a few careful steps and thought over the past few weeks. "Most men don't have such troubles, y' know."
"What can ya expect, darlin'. What with your devilish good looks and all, Ah'm surprised ya aren't tackled by every woman who sees ya. Ah'm tempted ta throw ya down on the bed right now." She gave him a saucy look.
He jolted to a halt. "Dieu! Rogue, what's gotten in t' y'?" he rasped.
"Ah think ya're rubbin' off on meh," she said, taking his arm.
He sighed. "Logan will have Remy drawn and quartered if he hears y' talk like dat, chere."
"Ah hadn't planned ta proposition him."
"Is dat what y're doin'?" he asked, his ribs feeling, quite suddenly, too small for his heart.
"Ah thought Ah'd give ya a bit of time ta heal first." Her hand was warm against his arm, but she still didn't turn to look at him.
"Dieu, regarde!" he said, straightening with painful effort to place his hand dramatically over his heart. "Remy's healed!"
Her laughter was silvery sweet. It tugged at his soul, and for a moment, as he stared into her angel eyes, he could not speak, for they had not changed since the first moment he had seen her, sailing with her mother on the Anna Marie years ago. They were just as brilliant, just as mesmerizing, and the sight of them made his heart ache. How could she ever truly love him?
"Rogue…"
"Shh," she said and raising a finger to his lips, refusing to let him speak. "It has all been said already, sugah," she murmured. "Ah love ya."
Rogue helped Remy back to the bed and when he was settled, she said, "Ah have ta check the ship."
"And leave Remy here alone when he's in such pain?" Remy asked.
"Ah thought ya were healed," she said, placing her hands on her hips.
":Dat was when Remy believed it advantageous t' be so," he said. "Now he sees y' were only toyin' with 'im." Their gazes met. Silence as warm as fire stretched between them.
"Come lie with me," he urged.
She did, and although that fact still seemed the most miraculous of events, it also seemed so right. Her weight against his arm should have sent spasms of pain through his tattered chest, but instead it only thrummed a soft blur of pleasure through him. Never before had anything felt so perfect.
"Remy's dreamt of dis," he said softly. The truth seemed so easy now, so simple, undeniable almost, which should have scared him, for the truth had never been this thief's particular friend. A good lie had often suited him better. "More times dan he can count."
"Ya've dreamt of being beaten and nearly hanged?" she asked.
He chuckled. It hurt, but the pain was almost pleasant, for she was there. "Non, of bein' with y'."
"Ah think ya're too easy ta please," she said.
He laughed again and their conversation moved on. They talked for an hour of a thousand things, old memories, people they had known, food and fights and hopes and dreams, until she cleared her throat and dropped her gaze to his chest.
"It would be a good time ta change your bandage."
Remy winced. Rogue stood and gathered some materials from a chest and then returned to Remy's side. "If Ah wet the bandage it won't be so difficult ta remove. Ah've also brought a soap ta cleanse your wound," she said as she sat on the edge of the bed and began wetting the cloth.
"Y've been plannin' dis torture all mornin'?" he asked irritably.
"It won't be so bad, darlin'."
He harrumphed. "Remy's sure de bandage is fine, chere. In fact…" He lifted his arm to demonstrate, preparing to spew forth some likely lie about his amazing recovery, but her gasp stopped him.
"Ya're bleedin' again."
Remy began to look down, but Rogue cupped his chin in her hand. "Don't. Lie back and Ah'll take care of it."
He did as she asked, and Rogue began to remove the bandage. Pain stabbed through his chest as her hand brushed against his wounded ribs. He jerked at the impact.
"Remy?" She pulled her hand away as if burned. "Ah'm sorry." She leaned over him, her eyes full of worry.
He tried to catch his breath but couldn't quite manage it.
"Are ya alright?"
"Small price," he rasped. "If y' want Remy's head on a platter, y've but t' ask."
"Ah got what Ah wanted," she sighed.
He raised his brows at her. What did she mean by that? Maybe Bella was right. Maybe she only wanted him for a short while and would cast him away just as everyone else in his life had. "Did y'?" he breathed.
"Aye." Her hair draped like a curtain of glimmering silk past her face. "For now," she said, and smoothed her hand up his arm.
Remy blew out a slow breath. "Remy may need t' rest 'fore dat."
She laughed low in her throat and continued to work on the wound. Miraculously, the process gave Remy little pain. Her hands were like magic against his skin, touching, smoothing, her brow puckered as she stared at his chest.
"How's it look?" he asked glancing down.
"It's healin' well," she said, and leaning forward, kissed the muscle just above the wound. "Ya'll soon be the scourge of the seas again."
Just as Remy was about to respond, there was a slight knock at the cabin door. Rogue stepped away from the bed as the door creaked open and Christian peered in. "Ca-Captain?"
"Come on in, Chris. Do ya want ta see Remy?" Rogue answered, trying to regain her composure.
Immediately the young boy's face lit up and he smiled. "Can I, ma'am? I brought some bread and fruit from the galley. I thought the captain might be hungry."
"Sure, darlin'. Ah'm sure he'd love some company. Ah need ta see ta the ship, so would ya watch over him?" Rogue asked as she moved to the door and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Aye-aye, ma'am!" Placing the tray down, Chris gave a quick salute and launched himself onto the large bed. Remy grimaced as ninety-five pounds hit him like a cannonball, then wrapped the boy up in his arms and placed a small kiss on his head. "I've missed you so much, captain! I knew you'd make it," Chris shouted in his ear as he hugged him close.
"Oui, petite…and Remy's missed y'. Have y' been good f'r de lovely captain?"
"Yep! Look, I brought some food." Chris jumped from the bed and took the tray over the Remy as Rogue stepped out of the room, leaving the two alone. The boy gestured to the door with his thumb as it shut. "The women didn't think you'd survive, but I told them otherwise."
"Y' did, did y?" Remy asked, lifting a dubious brow.
Chris nodded quickly and handed Remy a piece of heavy bread. "She's alright…for a woman. Good captain, too."
Remy chuckled. "Oui…she is."
The two remained in the cabin for the remainder of the day. The only other visitors were John and the doctor, who insisted on keeping a close eye on his new patient. Rogue manned the helm and fought against a strong head wind that would delay their arrival into Orcadia by at least a day. This was turning out to be the strangest expedition of her life!
Later that night…
Remy ate dinner with Christian in the captain's cabin that night. Rogue had apparently decided to remain with her crew for the evening…and avoid him. As that thought entered his mind, a knock sounded. "Enter."
The door opened to admit the doctor. Concealing his disappointment, Remy greeted the man with feigned enthusiasm.
"I thought you might want to get some fresh air and join us topside for awhile. Do you feel up to it, lad?" the doctor asked.
It would certainly be better than sitting in this room a moment longer, bemoaning his situation. "Remy'd love t'. Could y' jus' give 'im a hand?"
The doctor helped Remy to his feet and led him up to the main deck where men were lounging about, some of them still eating their meals. A group of three sailors held instruments in their hands, a guitar, drum, and fife, and they were playing a beautiful ballad while another sailor sang in a deep tenor. Several other pirates were off playing cards or dice.
It was a rather congenial scene, one which might be found in any small town, he thought as he was helped across the deck. One of camaraderie and friendship. No doubt their shared time and experiences had forged strong friendships between the sailors just as they had done on the Devil's Lust.
On the poop deck sat John, who was smoking a pipe while he leaned back against a coiled rope. The crisp night air felt so good and the stars shone brightly overhead.
"Crickey! There he is!" John exclaimed as Remy joined him. "Did the doctor finally let you out of that bloody room, mate?"
Remy sighed as he lowered himself onto an overturned barrel. "Oui, mon ami. 'Bout time." A soft breeze blew in from the ocean and the sounds of the waves enveloped the small crew with a sense of peace.
"Hey, young Chris," one of the sailors called from across the deck. "Isn't it time for you to be in bed?"
Chris stuck his tongue out.
"Chris," Remy said with a hint of laughter in his voice. "Don't be rude." He urged Chris toward a group of men playing cards while he continued to talk with John. A few minutes later, Chris came rushing back to Remy with a winning hand.
Looking at the cards, Remy smiled and warmth rushed through Rogue as she watched the pair from the quarterdeck. Whether he admitted it or not, Remy loved that boy. A boy who had no relationship to him whatsoever. In that moment, Rogue knew why she loved Remy. She loved his laughter, his kind heart. She loved the way he could make her feel happy when she was doing nothing more than looking at him.
Rogue turned to Wanda and asked her to take the helm for a moment. Descending the steps to the main deck, she made her way to the railing where John and Remy sat. John looked over his shoulder and quickly decided to join Wanda above. Patting Remy on the shoulder, "Take care, mate," he said and took his leave.
Remy reclined back on the coiled rope with his long legs stretched out toward Rogue as she approached. His shirt was torn where the sleeve joined his left shoulder, and one of his muscular knees protruded from the rip in his breeches. He wore two days' growth of beard on his face and she couldn't resist smiling.
"What?" he asked.
"Ya look like a pirate. All rough and worn. All ya need is a peg-leg and a patch."
He laughed at her. "Remy's always been fortunate 'nough not t' take many wounds t' his face and head. Jean-Luc used t' say it was a miracle, since my head was so swollen by stubbornness and vanity he didn't know how anyone could miss it."
Rogue joined his laughter as she lowered herself onto the deck next to him. "Jean-Luc…that was your father, right?"
His laughter died and a deep sadness came over his face. Rogue looked and reached out to touch his leg with her hand. "Remy?"
He sighed and plucked a strand of rope from the coil. Twirling it through his fingers, he stared at the stars. "Jean-Luc was Remy's mentor, and de closest t' a father he ever had."
"Did he ever know your mother?"
"Dieu, non." He looked up at her as if the very thought offended him to the core of his being. "I met 'im after my mother left me on de streets. I had t' pick pockets t' survive. Jean-Luc caught me and made me a cabin boy on de Devil's Lust. I was only a pup and bitter with hatred. Jean-Luc wasn't sure if he could trust me, or trust some of his crew with me f'r dat matter, so he took me in hand and showed me what I needed t' know."
"Ah bet he had his hands full."
"Y've no idea, chere." Remy said with a snort. "De man was a paragon of patience. T' dis day, Remy doesn't know how he kept from killin' 'im de first year."
With a sigh, Rogue leaned back and looked up to the stars as well. "Why?"
"T' say Remy was disrespectful would be mild. He never knew de man t' get drunk or curse, and everywhere he went, he toted a book with 'im."
"Ya admired him." She could hear it in his voice.
"Not at de time. Remy was too blind and stupid t' see what others knew."
Rogue turned on her side to look at him. "What changed ya?"
Remy dropped the rope he was toying with and sighed. "Remy had gone off with a group of de crew t' a local tavern and Jean-Luc came t' get us. Dere were pirates dere from several other ships and dey started pokin' at Remy with deir hands and swords. Remy wanted t' kill de men tormentin' 'im, but when he started t' pull his sword, Jean-Luc grabbed Remy's hand and told 'im dat if he killed everyone who annoyed 'im, he'd soon find 'imself alone. Remy was so angry at 'him. He called 'im a craven bastard and said he hoped dey cut his throat."
His tone was remorseful with a hint of shame in it. She couldn't imagine the man she knew being so rude to anyone.
Remy sighed, then continued his tale. "When it became obvious Jean-Luc was Remy's captain, de three men left. Jean-Luc ordered us t' return t' de ship when a young woman screamed."
"It was the three sailors?" she asked.
"Oui. Dey had turned deir attention t' a servin' wench. One of dem had pushed her face down on a table and was 'bout t' rape her when Jean-Luc drew his sword." Remy gave a bitter laugh. "Remy couldn't believe his eyes. Jean-Luc showed no anger. No emotions at all. He calmly walked up t' de group and told dem dey had a choice. Let de femme go or die."
"The sailors drew their swords on Jean-Luc?" she asked.
"Oui. De girl ran and Remy watched, too stunned t' move as Jean-Luc disarmed two and wounded de third. He used moves with his sword dat Remy had never seen. And de speed with which he dispatched dem amazed Remy even more. It was den dat Remy realized he wanted t' be de man he'd tried f'r a year t' make 'im."
Rogue smiled. "So, he's the one who taught ya ta read."
"T' read, t' think, t' behave, t' appreciate everything in dis world. He made Remy de man y' see 'fore y' today."
There was so much love in Remy's tone, on his face. Rogue could tell he worshipped Jean-Luc like a father. "What happened ta him, sugah?"
"He died in battle," he answered.
"Oh, Remy, Ah'm so sorry." Rogue said as she touched the side of his face. Remy leaned into the gentle touch.
Wanda's voice called over the music, "Captain! I need you for a moment."
"Ah'll be right back, darlin'." Rogue said, standing and making her way to the quarterdeck.
Remy reached into the coiled rope as she left and pulled out a hidden bottle of rum. "Good ol' John." Remy whispered to himself.
One leg drawn up, his arm resting negligently on his knee, Remy drank from the bottle and contemplated the moon. He studied the moon without really seeing it. Soon it would be time to return to the Devil's Lust, to return to his responsibilities as captain. Still, he had not settled things with Rogue, either. It was so much easier not to. Just thinking about his choices terrified him. He could propose, vow to love her. Truth be told, that's what he wanted, but did she? He was full of doubt. Rogue had only recently told him that she loved him, and he was far from convinced. On the other hand, he could make her hate him. Make her glad when he finally left. But he couldn't do that either. The thought of her hating him hurt more than any wound he had sustained.
Remy took another pull on his rum bottle, savoring the bite and burn of the alcohol, waiting for that numbing sensation that made sleep possible. The clouds had lifted in the afternoon, leaving the day muggy, the air clinging. But the night was beautiful. It let his mind wander to the past, to other such nights. Anything to keep from thinking about the future.
When he looked back to the deck, he saw Rogue walking back towards him. The moon gave her skin the sheen of a pearl and made her lips as lush as the petals of a camellia. She floated toward him, moving on the deck with a graceful flow. Rogue sank to her knees at his feet holding a small bowl of fruit. "What are ya thinkin' about, darlin'?"
Remy felt her touch on his soul, on that part of him that had stayed free for so long. He closed his eyes and savored the sound of her voice. It resonated through him like a caress. No one had ever made him feel the way she did. With her, he almost felt decent. Free. Heroic. He wanted to tell her how much she had come to mean to him and how much the thought of her leaving hurt, but the words lodged in his throat. If he was half the man Jean-Luc had been, he'd make her hate him now, but he wasn't.
"Nothin', mon chere." Remy put a hand to her hair. It was like silk, cool, soft, exotic. He took a long breath and let it out slowly.
Rogue smiled and held up the bowl of small yellow fruit. "Ah brought ya a gift."
"So y' brought lilikoi." At her puzzled expression, he translated. "Passion fruit."
"Is that what it's called? Shall Ah peel one for ya?"
"Dat's not de best way t' eat passion fruit, mon amour." Remy slid his knife from its sheath, chose a ripe piece, and sliced off the stem end. "Y' scoop out de seeds with your tongue," he said, and, watching her face, demonstrated the process. The tip of his tongue slid into the heart of the fruit, collected seeds, and retreated. The sweet, exotic flavor filled his mouth. "See." He murmured huskily, and kissed her, his lips as light against hers as the evening breeze.
Rogue slid her arms around his neck. "Does passion fruit always affect ya this way?"
"Y' affect me dis way," Remy said.
He tasted of passion fruit and rum as Rogue's lips brushed against Remy's briefly, teasing and tempting him. She sampled the fruit, then shared the cloying flavor of the seeds with him in another kiss.
"Y're cold," he said as she quivered against him.
"Maybe you'd be kind enough ta provide some warmth…later." She murmured.
"Ever as y' wish," he whispered in her ear.
They continued to sit there, just holding each other as they watched the crew enjoy various forms of entertainment and listened to the music. After a while, Rogue noticed the strain the night had had on Remy and helped him back to her cabin. As he slept, she remained on the quarterdeck, thinking over the possibilities of the future.
The next morning…
When Remy woke the next morning, he was alone. He moved to place his feet on the floor full expecting a flash of pain, but none came. He slowly stood and made a few steps to the privy and was relieved when the task seemed much easier than the day before. There was no pain, only a stiffness.
As he managed to finish his morning routine and even shave, his stomach decided to voice its request for his next destination. His appetite had returned and he was famished. Making his way to the galley of the Anna Marie, Remy heard voices resonating down the narrow hall.
Rogue and Wanda stood off to the side while John played with Christian. For a man who swore he wanted nothing to do with children, he sure enjoyed acting like one with the boy. "Here comes the fireball from the cannon." John held an extra large radish in his hand, spinning it as it fell toward the celery stalks and John made noises simulating fire and flying arrow sounds. Not to mention the sound of men crying out for help from the falling radish, or rather "fireball".
Christian laughed as John knocked the celery stalks over.
"Crickey, my head," John said, picking one celery stalk up and trotting it over the tabletop like a man limping. "It's on fire! Ow,ow,ow!"
Christian laughed even harder.
Rogue exchanged a horrified look with Wanda, who stood beside her, finishing off her bowl of leek-pea porridge.
Remy came in and John immediately put down the celery stalk and sat up straight. "Don't play with your food," he said sternly to Christian who looked put out by John's sudden change in manner and command.
Clearing his throat and taking Wanda by the arm, John gave Remy a mock salute. "I'll be goin' now, Captain!"
Remy met Rogue's gaze and laughed. "Was he playin' de flamin' celery stalk game again?"
"Does he do that a lot?" she asked.
"Oui, mais it frightens Remy less when he does it f'r de amusement of children and not 'imself."
Rogue laughed at that.
Remy took a seat next to Christian and ruffled the boy's hair. Strangely enough, he didn't seem to mind the attention when it came from Remy and Rogue almost felt envious of the bond the child had with the captain. As Remy began to eat his breakfast and listen to Christian's account of all he had missed in his absence, Rogue couldn't help but let her mind drift to what the next few days would bring.
Soon, they would have the necklace and this unusual alliance would end. What would happen then? Kitty would leave her crew to join Piotr, maybe even marry. Remy was the captain of a magnificent galleon with a loyal crew. Surely he wouldn't be willing to give that up for her, and she couldn't abandon the Anna Marie. It was her mother's ship and her freedom. But how could everything go back to as it was before. Her heart revolted at the idea. If she allowed Remy to sail away at the end, they could easily go months or longer without seeing each other. She couldn't bear being separated from him for that long. But what else could she do?
Remy looked up and caught the far off look in Rogue's eyes. With a frown, he asked, "What's de matter, chere?"
Rogue paused to stare at him. He looked much better than he had yesterday. His face had regained some color and he had shaved. Rogue preferred Remy clean-shaven. His classically handsome face was something to be admired not hidden with his firm, square jaw and full, sensual lips. All of which spoke of power and ageless strength. He had changed clothes and now wore tight, black breeches and a ruffled white shirt. Wide-top black boots and red sash added dash to the outfit. She'd never seen anyone more appealing, anyone more inviting.
And he had asked her something. But the devil take it if she could remember what.
"Ah'm sorry," she said, reaching for a roll. "Ah didn't hear what ya asked."
"Remy asked if everything was alright."
Christian just stared with his mouth agape and a half-eaten stalk of celery hanging from his lips.
"Ah'm fine. Ya seem ta be feelin' better, darlin'." Rogue said, trying to ignore the unusual expression on the boy.
"Oui," Remy nodded. "Remy's feelin' much better. May even be able t' help de crew."
Rogue shook her head. "Oh, no ya will not! Ah'll not be havin' ya get hurt again, sugah. You're goin' ta take it easy until we reach Orcadia. Is that clear?"
Remy raised a dubious brow.
"Don't give meh that look. Remember whose ship you're on. Ah'm the one in charge and ya'll follow mah orders."
"Oui," Remy traced the line of her jaw with the backs of his fingers. "Remy'll be good."
The afternoon dragged on slowly while Rogue stayed busy with preparations. They would be landing in Orcadia the next morning if all went well. Rubbing her neck in mild fatigue, she glanced out through the weather-eye window of her cabin and promptly spotted Remy engaged in fencing practice with John and a few of her other officers. What the devil does he think he's doing!
Rogue held her breath and stared.
Shirtless, his bronzed body rippling with muscle and gleaming with sweat in the golden daylight, Remy was taking on several opponents at once even in his weakened condition, while the sun sent blinding flashes off his wheeling sword.
She stood there motionless, awed by the sheer magnificence of the man and by the beauty of his deadly skill; riveted, she watched him deliver blows of massive power, swift, precise…and ruthless.
John called a halt and barked more instructions to the men arrayed around Remy and cautioned his captain, once again, to go easy on himself. Unaware that he was being watched, Remy took a short break from his exertions, spilling water over his head, and taking a few swigs from a canteen.
Rogue's gaze slipped down his glistening chest and abdomen, only stopping to linger over his still bandaged ribs. Christian marched toward him all of a sudden, wielding a play wooden sword. She could not hear what the wee boy said, but he apparently felt it was his turn to practice with his captain.
Remy flashed the child a grin and picked up a nearby mop that one of the sailors had been using to swab the decks. He used the blunt wooden handle to parry Christian's blows.
Little Chris looked positively minuscule battling Remy for all he was worth, a merry David and Goliath match. After playing swords with the boy for several minutes, the big captain let Christian get a hit in and dropped his weapon, clutched his body, and pretended to die.
Down on the decks he fell, playacting his demise. A soft smile touched her lips as Rogue watched the pair, transfixed.
Chris cheered his own victory over the fallen giant, but when the boy pounced on his captain, kissing his cheek in a rare show of affection, Remy affectionately pushed the boy away. He jumped up again, ruffled the boy's hair, and returned to his real practice.
Rogue knew that her heart had been completely won. Never before had having a family of her own ever factored into her dreams, but watching Remy with the boy made her wish for nothing more. She wanted a husband and a child. More to the point, she wanted Remy and Remy's child. What a father he'd be! Now she only needed a way to make it all possible, make him understand that she loved him. It was just so hard for him to believe that since no one had ever loved him before. But she would convince him and they would be happy…somehow.
A/N: The next chapter is almost finished, but I didn't quite get it all done. The next time I'm in Siena, I'll upload it. Hopefully that will be next Saturday. Thanks again!
