A/N-- This chapter is a bit rated-Mish. I'd say it's even less so than Saltwater for Tears. Nonetheless: ye be warned, all ye who read here.

I would like to dedicate this to Katze, for teaching me part of the dance mentioned in this chapter. I may have been screaming the whole time, but I still loved it.
-----------------------

Chapter Seven
The House on the Hill
in which a bottle is broken

The sunlight had stained the sea a rich bronze by the time their anchor lowered and the men let out a resounding cheer at the sight of the green island before them. It had been easier to spot than Normandy; it rose up out of the sea in what seemed to be half of a mountain's peak.

"Do you see that house, Dominic?" Cora had asked her son when his spyglass was trained on it. "Up on the hill there?"

"Yes, Momma."

"That's home, love. That's home."

"Does your family have a strong desire to build in high places?" Jack asked, remembering the Turner's mansion in Port Royal.

"It must be coincidence. This was built by the Starre side of the family about fifteen years before I was born."

"Are we going to live there now, Momma?" Dominic asked, putting down his spyglass in favor of picking up Viola. The wolf pup gave a sleepy whine when he disturbed her, then fell back asleep on his shoulder.

"Yes. We are."

The crew didn't react as they had before, perhaps because most of them were too far away celebrating. Yet even Anamaria's eyes held no trace of resentment, and she stood right beside her. When the Deliverance ground to a halt, Cora gathered up all the celebrants in a rough bunch before her on deck.

"It's good to be home, isn't it?" She asked them. The following 'aye' echoed far out over the sea. "Good, because I'm glad to be rid of you!" Laughter. "I know we missed Midsummer because of that storm, but that doesn't mean we still can't have a party to celebrate it. I don't want to see any of you for the next two hours, but then come up to the Starre mansion and we'll break this place in all over again!"

More shouts and cheering, and then they were organized into groups to get onto their boats and head for shore. Cora, Dominic, Jack and Stephen were the first to head over to even louder cheers, more poignant and fitting than the solemn twittering of a bosun's pipe had ever been. Once the greater part of their things were on shore with them (and Dominic had stopped trying to run off in four different directions at once) they set off in the direction of the steep hill at the island's northern end.

"There was nothing here but jungle when my grandparents arrived," She explained as they climbed. There were no trees to shade them as they walked and the slanting light pierced their eyes, destroying their vision, so their only link to the world was her voice. "Then once they'd established themselves, they began inviting some of the poorest folk from other islands to come and live here. The town grew quite fast and they've always looked to my family as their protectors. We left a steward in charge when we left here in '99. We haven't been back for very long since, but I've been in contact with him. His name is Jonas Sewell. He's looked after my family's fortune and kept collecting our harbor duties. I'll divide most of the money we've made in past thirteen years and give it to the crew in thanks. I don't need too much to live on."

"Do you mean to say that your family owns this island?"

"Essentially, yes. Believe me," They could hear her rueful smile. "I know that one day France or England or Spain or even the United States will come here and claim us. But for now I think the world has larger problems than a tiny island with minimal farmland and a few hundred peasants. For now, this is ours."

They reached the crest of the hill at last and found themselves in the grateful shade of the mansion. It wasn't a particularly imposing building, not like the Turner's house; but it was just as beautiful and just as ageless, a simply two story house with a verandah that wrapped all around it. They left their things on this verandah and while the men (and the boy) stopped to catch their breath Cora walked the length of it until she stood on the other side of the house. After a moment, Stephen followed.

What he saw was Cora leaning on the rail, framed against the copper sea. A large, grassy shelf extended for some distance behind the house- the site of the party -but beyond that there was nothing but sunset and sea. He could see some scrub and rocks at the edge of the cliff, and a thin overgrown trail that must've led down it. To their left the flat, grassy area continued. A large shade tree protected it from the heat, and in the shadows were three tombstones, one with a marble angel and a baby on her hip, the one beside it a young man shading his eyes, looking out over the horizon, and the third a simple granite block.

"What's left of my family is there." Cora said. "This is the closest I've been to home in seven years."

Seven and not thirteen. A vision of the ship her family destroyed to keep it from the Navy's hands forever flickered in and out of both their heads. That had been home.

They soon moved inside the house where they were greeted by a neat elderly man they assumed must be Jonas. He embraced Cora and spoke with such cordiality that they were stunned when he turned to walk away and they heard the thump of his wooden leg against the wood floors; it seemed so rough compared to the rest of him.

"Was you a sailor, sir?" Jack asked.

"A lieutenant, sir. I lost my leg in battle and I was discharged shortly thereafter."

"Surely not because of the leg! You ought to be commended for your valiant service."

"No, sir, not for the leg. Because they found myself and the first lieutenant together in the sick-bay." Too much of a gentleman to let the strain in the party grow, Jonas excused himself and told Cora he'd have the accounts waiting for her perusal when she was ready.

"Where's my room, Momma? Will I still be able to see the ocean from it?" Dominic asked urgently when he was gone.

"I've already picked out your room. You'll see it in just a moment- my uncles used to live in it."

"Are there pictures of them here?"

Cora's smile softened and saddened. "Yes, I daresay there are. Come and I'll show them to you."

On the right side of the breezy entryway with its parquet floor was a broad staircase. At the top was a long hallway with wooden floors, as reminiscent of a ship as the scent that permeated them. The windows were closed, but the smell of the sea was all around them. A series of doors went down the length of the hall, and between them were the promised pictures. Dominic went instantly to the first one, directly to their left- a young couple, the man tall and smiling with long gold hair, the woman strangely familiar.

"She looks just like you, Momma." Dominic said in wonder.

"That's my grandmother, the one your grandmother named me for. For the last three generations I suppose we've looked much the same."

He bounded along to the next one, across the hall this time, the adults following slowly in his wake. This portrait was of a boy in his adolescence who looked much like the man from before but for his quiet eyes. A younger boy was beside him, with dark hair and grey eyes and a brighter smile. They each had a hand on the shoulder of the small girl between them, an image of her painted mother and of the living daughter standing beside them now.

"Those are your great-uncles, Nathaniel and James. And that is your grandmother. Arlen." The first name was spoken easily- he was a man she'd never known, dead long before she took her first breath. The hesitance in the last two names reflected deaths that were all too recent. Stephen remembered the golden haired man who'd carried her aboard the Surprise near to death all those months ago as well as Cora did. The other woman they tried to forget.

There was only one more painting left, hanging on the wall beside the room furthest away from them. Dominic approached this one slowly. They all did.

It was larger than the others, with a more ornate frame. The light from the nearby window had muted some of the colors on the dresses; what was once royal blue was now cyan, red had rolled over to lay closer to pink, and grey-blue looked like dove gray. Two of the men wore simple brown suits, unaffected by the light, while the third and oldest- the man from the first painting -wore a green cape and cream shirt, and an enormous green hat. The other man was the boy from the second picture. The third may've been the twin of William and Matthew Turner.

He stood beside Arlen Starre- by then Arlen Turner -whose eyes met the viewers with the sort of directness she had in life. Sitting on a chair to their right was a younger woman with her father's dark eyes and brown hair with the occasional streak of gold. Beside her-

"Momma?" Dominic's voice was startling in the near silence. "Is that you?"

"Yes, darling. When I was nineteen. And those are your grandparents, Michael and Arlen. And that is your Aunt Ashli."

"Are they all dead?"

"Everyone but Ashli and I."

"Why haven't I met her?"

"Just before you were born, Aunt Ashli and I had a fight. I haven't seen her since."

"I wish I could've met them."

"So do I, love. Come, let's go and see your room."

Cora led Dominic to the first door from the stairs and he rushed in with abandon, already deciding where everything would go and declaring the view even better than Port Royal's. She left him safely assured of his happiness, and not so certain of her own.

"There are a pair of rooms here I had in mind for you- we kept them for Jack and Hank whenever they came to visit." She said when she returned to Jack and Stephen. "You can decide between yourselves who wants to stay where. I'll be in my old room."

Jack chose the room farthest down the hall and made Cora smile a little sadly- that was the room Jack Sparrow had always stayed in. He saw the flicker of sorrow in her eyes and offered to choose the other, but she refused to let him. They were silent when they went to retrieve their chests and when they disappeared into their respective rooms. Stephen's lay across the room from Jack's and it was immediately to his liking; austere, if not outright Spartan. It was a bed, a washstand, an armoire, a worn black rug and not much else. The window looked out over the hill and the town and harbor below them, and after he set down his sea chest he watched them dancing on the waves. Then he drifted out once more in the direction of the hall and the room across from his- Cora's room.

Before he got there he heard the strains of a Boccherini concerto coming from nearby. It was a little out of tune and a little hoarse for want of rosin, but his hands ached suddenly for his 'cello's strings. He was drumming the fingerings on his thigh when Jack appeared from his room, an ancient violin on his shoulder and its bow in his hand. He abruptly accelerated the last few lines and finished just as Cora appeared from her own room, frowning slightly.

"Where did you find that?" She asked as Jack approached.

"In my room. Forgive me, I was with child to play. Our instruments are back on the Renown."

"No, it's quite all right. I haven't touched that violin in thirteen years. I was playing by the window, waiting for the Black Pearl to come into port. When I saw her sails I dropped it there and... well, with everything that happened after I never went back for it."

"Should you like to try and-?"

"No, I would only insult the instrument. I haven't played any violin in thirteen years, actually. You may play it as much as you like."

Jack set off on Vivaldi now and made Cora smile. Dominic peered from around his room and when he saw the violin he rushed to Jack's side and bombarded him with requests. Cora and Stephen withdrew and watched as Jack attempted to play each song Dominic named- the trouble was that after the first few bars the little boy would lose interest and immediately choose another song. He finally settled for listening to an adagio from a Mozart symphony he'd never heard before, and as they listened Cora shivered and ran her hands up and down her arms.

"Is something the matter?" Stephen asked.

"There are so many ghosts in this house. I thought it would be easy to come home."

Without thinking he rested his hand on her back, drawing her close enough so that she could lay her head on his shoulder and close her eyes. His hand brushed up and down her spine so lightly it seemed more to move the hairs on her back than to really touch her. They would've remained like that forever, Dominic on the floor at Jack's feet, Jack lost in concentration, at one with the violin, if they hadn't heard the sudden shout from below them.

"Oi, Cora! What was the idea behind leaving me alone out there all on my own during that storm?"

Cora was gone before Stephen even stopped feeling her warmth at his side, shooting down the stairs and leaping onto Finn where he stood with his trademark grin on his face.

"I was so worried for you!"

"Not as worried as ye must've thought, if ye didn't even come back for me."

"Finn, you vex me. You've only been here for a minute and I already feel like sending you away."

"I was teasing you, lass. You're too easily vexed is your problem. Especially with men. All that matters is that I'm here now, and what would a party be like without me and my crew? Eh? Who's playing the violin?"

They came up the stairs with their arms around each other's waist, and jealousy flashed through Stephen so fast he couldn't identify it right away. It wasn't until they stood off to the side for some time like that and the flame attained a slow, burning heat that he realized he wanted nothing more than to walk over and tear Cora away from him.

Jack's song faded away soon to enthusiastic applause from Dominic and congratulations from the adults. He attributed all of it to the violin he played- aged so fine, such a mellow sound to it, never heard a G-string quite like this one before, wherever did you find it? Finn waited for a lull in the conversation to speak.

"Well, we can't all be standin' around here waiting for Judgment Day. We need to get started on this party!"

"We have a few hours-"

"-an' we used to spend all day on it. Why don't you go and start cooking for us, Cora? My men are starving as it is."

"You and I both know what my cooking tastes like, which is exactly why Gibbs is already down in the kitchen. What I need help with is the decorating. I thought we might look for the decorations we used at Midsummer back in '95..."

They went back down the stairs, Dominic in their wake like a small moon, reliving a long ago party ten years before Stephen was even aware of Cora's existence. Jack went back into his room to put the violin away, and Stephen was alone with the breeze until he returned.

"Ain't you coming, Stephen?"

"Yes. I suppose I should." He said, and followed him downstairs.

--------------------

Evening, and now the water was stained purple and red by the sunset. The house on the hill was swathed in the light of candles and lanterns that lined a path to the three pavilions they'd raised behind it. A steady flow of people surrounded the house, going in and out and lying on the lawn before it. The scent of food surrounded all of them; the townspeople had come to join them too, bringing pies and sacrificial livestock.

Without a doubt the most action was around the last pavilion and the great wooden stage that Finn and his crew had dragged out from the basement of the house. Here was where the island's daughter held court. Some of the first townspeople who'd come to welcome her came bearing circles of flowers they'd made; she wore one now as a crown and the other as a necklace. She reclined beside the pit Gibbs had dug, where he was roasting a pair of the chickens they'd been given. She attempted to keep an eye on Dominic, but he was everywhere all at once.

There were some stiff glances between Jack and the other partygoers once word spread that he was a captain of His Majesty's Fleet, but once the first five or so kegs of rum were gone and most of the foods were out on display, no one cared anymore. He was currently regaling the story of the Acheron- right after he'd told of the Cacafuego, and his run in with a Spanish treasure fleet on the Lively -to a group of Finn's sailors. When they dispersed and he returned he was delighted to tell them of their thorough seamanship- he'd never expected it of them.

"I never know what to expect of Finn's men." Cora laughed.

"Who expects nothing of me?"

"That's not what I said, Finn."

"I know. I just thought it was a witty entrance nonetheless."

Finn sat on the blanket beside them and watched as a few men, having eaten and drank their fill, began to assemble themselves near the wooden stage they'd dragged out. They had a variety of instruments in their arms- a violin, a shepherd's pipe and a rare assortment of drums -and chattered with easy familiarity about what they'd play. Those who'd seen them stopped and waited with breathless smiles for the music to start. There was a lull as the musicians sat, looking to the violin to start them, in silence. The violinist was perfectly still, his eyes trained on something beyond their sight; then he seemed to see what he was looking for and a smile broke out across his face. He lifted his shoulder quickly, then dropped it and danced off into a cheery, airy piece.Now people began to dance on the stage and on the grass around it, mostly Finn's crew mixing with the girls from the town.

"There'll be some Irish seed spilled here tonight, mark my words." He smiled towards the end of the song as the men grew more brazen with their partners and held their bodies tight together.

"Oh, lovely. That's the last thing I need. Bastards of your crew running around my town, corrupting the populace and giving you a reason to haunt us."

"Bastard is a highly overrated term. It really isn't worth the fuss, trust me."

Cora just shook her head at Finn. The musicians had reached a pause- the drummers continued to tap away at their instruments, a lazy meditative beat -as they tried to decide on another song. They called out to Finn in Irish and he called back- Stephen's heart leapt, but the words were too fast for him to catch them in their entirety.

"Oh, I love this song!" Finn crowed as they began a jig that threatened to tear the skin from the violinist's fingers if he intended to keep the same tempo on those frenetic sixteenths for the whole time. "Don't you remember it, lass?"

"I don't think so."

"This is the song we danced to at the Faithful Bride. The one that started the brawl!"

"Oh, no. No!"

"Dance with me!"

"No!"

Her voice rose in a joyous shriek. She didn't resist Finn too much as he dragged her from her seat on the ground and towards the stage, stepping naturally into the flow of couples. Not many could keep up with the pace and as the pack thinned it was easy for Stephen to watch Cora and Finn swirling in and out. Her crown of flowers had been knocked askew and her skirt whirled out to reveal her bare feet. He'd never seen her so happy.

The music fell to pianissimo without warning and the couples stopped. The sailors rapidly began explaining the next part to their partners. Finn and Cora were close enough that Stephen could hear him.

"Do ye remember the Ceili spins, Cora?"

"No, no, no, I'm not letting you do that to me again. I thought I was going to go flying through the walls when you did it to me last time!"

"I'll never let go of ye, lass. Ye can always be sure o' that."

"Oh God..."

Then he'd taken hold of her waist and she had done the same, their other hands clasped between their bodies. Then they began to spin, slowly at first, then matching the rising speed of the drums. The primal sound filled the entire island like a living heartbeat. Cora's eyes were shut tight; Finn was laughing at her fear. Faster still- the crowds cheered as the last few couples held out. Then at last the music ceased and they stopped.

Amid the cheers and laughter, Cora swayed in Finn's steady grasp. He laughed and told her she shouldn't have closed her eyes- didn't he tell her that last time? She muttered something dire in return, and as she slumped backwards in relief he stole her into a dip. He was inches from her lips when she stood and pushed him away from her, keeping one hand on his chest.

"Finn Walsh, I won't let you take advantage of me in this state. I need to break out the bottle of rum I've been saving for this day before I can allow that," She cried, loud enough to be heard over the din. They were closer now, so that Stephen could hear Finn's answer.

"Oh, and after I've waited for so long? Ye'd drive a saint to madness, you siren!"

"I can't help it if I've got saltwater in my veins." Before she reached him, she turned and began to walk the other way with a charming unsteadiness in her gait.

"Where're ye going?"

"To get that bottle of rum. There's an entrance to the cellar over here." She gestured vaguely in the direction of the house.

"Is that an invitation to a clandestine meeting?"

"No, Finn..."

The Irishman walked back towards Stephen, a smile and something else on his lips. Stephen remembered their last solitary conversation aboard the Limerick and, before he knew exactly what he was doing, he was on his feet and weaving through the crowd. He followed the path Cora had taken. He had only to go straight to find the open cellar doors and a flight of stairs.

In the cellar it was damp and earthy. It smelled of mold and disuse; it was almost a dead room, like the blacksmith's shop back in Port Royal. Neat oak shelves had been built and held a wide variety of wines and rum, all very old.

It was a small cellar, a simple rectangle structure with just enough room for his head. There was no way he couldn't notice Cora standing at one end of it, or that she couldn't notice him behind her. She'd just bent down to search for the bottle in question when he entered, and straightened very slowly before she turned to face him.

"Would you like to help me find the perfect rum, Stephen? They're all a little old and a little dusty and probably a little warm, but I think that's just what I need after that dance."

"Yes. That dance. Tell me, Cora, what is Finn to you?"

Cora tensed at his accusatory tone.

"He's an old friend. I told you."

"How close a friend?"

"How dare you ask me that? The first thing I ever told you about myself was that I'm not a whore!" She hissed, walking forward rapidly so that there were only a few scant inches between them. "I thought of you every day for the past seven years and I kept myself faithful to your memory and I never expected the same of you. I would never ask you the question you just asked me." She walked back to the rack before her and bent down once more, except that now her frame was taut with anger. "Besides, I told you," She said as she wrenched a bottle free and dusted its label off with a few short jerks. "I could never love Finn."

She would've walked away then, past him, out of the dark little cellar and back up to the party and her laugher. But before she could Stephen closed the distance between them and took her face in his hands and kissed her. She resisted for a moment, pulled back to look him in the eyes. Then she smiled. And kissed him.

----------------------

Outside in the warm night air, Jack Aubrey was perspiring at an alarming rate. He eyed the crowds around the drinks and evaluated the risk of going in. Too high, he decided. The collected body heat might trigger Stephen's prophesied apoplexy. He hadn't seen his friend since he went around to the front of the house to see if that hog they were roasting was ready, as a matter of fact. He spied Finn Walsh sitting on the blanket he'd recently occupied with Cora- who was also nowhere in sight -and went to him.

"Mr. Walsh, you haven't seen my dear friend Doctor Maturin, have you? He seems to have wandered off."

"Indeed he did, just a few minutes ago. He went with Cora to see about some rum from the cellar. They should've been back, now that ye mention it."

"A drink would be just the thing! He's a very clever man, you know. I'll go and see about them myself."

Finn pointed him in the direction of the cellar and he went off in search. He had only to walk straight for a little while before he saw a pair of wide open doors and a flight of stairs, but he only went halfway down. It was from there that he could see the two figures in the tiny place, wrapped up tight in each other's embrace, not quite kissing but simply struggling to hold on to the moment of contact forever, a broken bottle forgotten at their feet.

"I think we might have to wait a while on that rum," Jack told Finn when he got back.

"Aye," The Irishman sighed. He looked away from the lights of the party and out over the wine-dark sea with a kind of sadness in his eyes. "Aye. I'd thought as much."

--------------------

Nighttime, and the sea was died the deepest black. The crest of every tiny wave was highlighted by the moon and the stars; the sky was clear in the way it only could be after a storm. The comings and goings had stopped around the house on the hill. Gibbs was just dousing the last of the lights. One of the musicians lingered near the back, leaning against the closed cellar doors. The old sailor chased him off, and he walked away tapping on his drum, disturbing the quiet night.

It was this that roused Stephen from his sleep. He tried to sit up and see out the window but the sheets were tangled hopelessly around him. Before he had a chance to make sense of the mess, a hand ran slowly up his spine to the nape of his neck and back down again.

"Don't you dare get up. He'll leave."

"I wanted to ask him what the name of the song you danced to," He murmured, but sank down beside her nonetheless. Cora moved from where she'd been lying on her stomach to settle in the cradle of his arms.

"I think it's called the Wealthy Widow. Si Do Mhaimeo i." She stumbled sleepily over the Irish words, then found a more comfortable hollow in his neck for her forehead to rest on.

He traced her spine now, as he had when they stood listening to Jack play, remembering his decision to name it the most erotic part of her. When they found their way to her house and the bedroom her parents had once shared she stood by the window to undress, and for an instant as she turned away to leave her clothes on the dresser the whole of her was outlined in silver and black with her spine as the divide. She looked like a mirror image of the sea he could just glimpse beside her. He was barely undressed but he went to her anyway and pulled her flush against him and kissed her neck and felt the weight of seven years of longing settle low and hot in his belly.

"It was an unusually happy song for its subject. Widows tend to be a sad lot." He remarked as she rolled him over so she was on top of him. She kissed his temple and kicked the sheets off of him at last as she answered.

"This widow was wealthy. She had the big house her husband left behind and all of his happy memories, but none of his little faults. Oh, and none of his authority to trap her."

Stephen chuckled low in his throat as she slid down his body to let her lips explore his shoulders. One hand ran endlessly over his flank and his bony hip with an almost proprietary air.

"I forgot to welcome you back home earlier today." He said breathily when her hand slid lower. Her only response was a soft animal sound and another kiss. He always felt like he was kissing the ocean when he kissed her- like he was drowning.

Later, after she dragged him down into the depths with the roll of her hips and her nails in his skin, she pulled him back into the light and kissed the marks she'd made. They drifted back towards sleep, and just before Stephen disappeared she whispered in his ear:

"Welcome home."

---------------------

A/N-- You know, I thought Dominic's example would teach them. But apparently they haven't learned. --sigh--

By the by, the Wealthy Widow is a real song. I changed it a bit to fit the story (there is no drum solo) but if you'd like to listen to it check out the CD Celtic Woman. I was absolutely addicted to it while I wrote this chapter.

Reviews make the world go round...