A/N: Thank you for reviewing, or giving support in PMs etc. as I appreciate it so much.
Note: Coming from a 'pause' that lasted between July/19 to November/19, from Chapter 9 I upload the chapters in a faster pace. (Just to avoid someone missing a chapter).
Another note: drama, drama, drama. I saw you comment you want drama and I can admit I almost feel ashamed as to how much drama I have put into this story! But if it is drama you would like to see, I guess there should be at least something down the road. ;)
CHAPTER X
Tell Me Why
Married
"Where are you going?" she wonders.
Her sudden presence almost causes him to jump. For a longer moment he has been standing inside a dressing room, in front of a long mirror as a few servants assisted him into different pieces. Thank lord that they did, or else Jack might make a fool of himself. As a pirate, former peasant if he can admit as much, he has never developed the skills of knowing how fancy noblemen dress. He barely understands how they behave. Fortunately he is a person skillful when it comes to adapting himself.
Thankful he is what is he is - that the servants by habits, help him any single piece to form this attire. Never did Jack have to utter a command of what they shall bring him next. They simply knew by knowledge themselves. Hans had honestly done a bloody good job recruiting ones that unknowingly helped Jack even in moments where they never knew they saved him. Like this precise one.
His arms are out as one servant helps him with the final vest. Again he believes he looks stupid, but by now he begins to get used to this appearance and therefore gets no further shock once passing by a mirror. It seems nor does Angelica, as she eyes him equally as she would have if he showed up as his usual self aboard the Pearl.
Her gaze lingers on him for longer than necessary.
She is holding Frances in her embrace, tight to her body as the little girl views Jack with the grandest eyes. She points at him and smiles toothily, a tryout of waving at him in a greeting way. Angelica's soft hand clasps around Frances' as she gently hugs it to her, and lets the child snuggle into the warmth of her body.
"To Peter," Jack answers.
"To Baron Rothley?" she is curious. "What for?"
He meets her eye in the reflection of the mirror. "Gentlemen's club."
"Gentlemen's club," she repeats. The sarcasm in her voice is evident, however it is in fact the dislike flickering in her eye that reveals her thoughts of this. It brings Jack to smirk. She knows just as much as Jack does, that there are no gentlemen around. They were all a fantastic facade of nobilities when someone witnessed them, but behind closed doors there were no worse pigs than them. And the fact that she is to have Jack attend these parties obviously arise a feeling in her she prefers pushing back. With Jack's holding eye, he can tell she does her best in erasing whatever goes on within her.
"Have a wonderful evening then," she smiles falsely. Eyes reveal her again. That bitter gaze would have loved to tell other things but due the audience of the servants, Angelica has no other option but just to leave.
When he is fully attired to his toes, Jack thanks the servants for their help before moving towards the stair. A passing servant offers him a tray, reaches out his arm and gestures for the poured shots atop. Jack views the golden rum for a moment and eventually takes one. His favorite. Wonderful. They have learned his ways way too well.
When he goes downstairs, he sees Angelica standing there. No Frances around. She must have left her to the nursemaid or something. Because she stands all alone, which is a rarity from what he has observed lately. Holding his coat hanging over her arm and she waits for Jack to arrive so she can give it to him.
For a quick appreciative thought, Jack grows grateful he did snatch that shot of rum. Because again he finds himself at unease under her intense stare as he walks down this overly done stair. When he approaches her and she helps him into the coat, he decides to look away from her as she fumbles on the golden buttons of it. He was about to close it himself when he by mistake came in contact with her hands and immediately as result pulled his own back.
Brushing against his chest as she tenderly moves her down along the line of the opening of his coat. It is as if her eyes search to catch his and he simply refuses. When he understands, and feels, her proximity to private parts, it is as if he holds his breath. Perhaps so does she.
A tease. That is what it is.
"Be careful," she sincerely speaks and finally earns his attention. He must look down to her and at once regrets it. "Do what you do best," she continues. "Whatever that is. And get us out of here."
When she removes her hands from his coat, he immediately misses the touch. In the corner of a tinier mirror hanging on a wall, he can now see a servant appearing further away. Not in distance to hear them, but definitely to clearly see them.
So he confidently eyes Angelica and carefully strokes his thumb gently on her cheekbone. He fingers on her heavy diamond earrings and he can see confusion display in her as she tries to figure him out. Whether he does this for real or whether it is because of the servant witnessing them.
The worst part is that he does not know himself. Thus certainly she will not either. Her breath holds still as he leans down to lightly kiss her cheek. And when he lets go, the breath leaves with him.
Rothley's estate has many lit torches long the road up to the house. Jack himself is in a line of other horses and carriages, bringing other men to this evening. His ride over there had been quite tiresome, and even if he in some ways is slightly excited for it all, he would have loved it more if his Black Pearl crew would have been there instead. He had a bottle of rum beside him but refrained from it as much as possible. After all, he has to be alert and on his guard, serve everything well according to plan and he knows of himself that there are moments he does have attributes not too favorable of others. Why risk it all? Even for a fun night.
Even for a fun night? But also, what he needs is a fun night. After all boredom, walking on eggshells, he feels for letting go. Even for the shortest moment. A break filled with piracy would have suited him best. Just a bit of swordfighting, treasures and Tortuga. Oh, Tortuga, he misses it.
Upon arrival he quickly understands for a gentlemen's night, there are also ladies there. No familiar women though. No wives. He can recall many of the men, men whom he has met before. At the New Year's Eve celebration at Montgomery's estate. Or at the market square. But the women were new faces. And dressed in ways he is sure the wives never were allowed to dress like. A few greet him, some already drowning all French imported champagne they can get their hands on. There are musicians playing music, some dancing and a full-blooded celebration going on already.
For thinking he is easy, he clearly was not. Party has already started and by the looks of it, he could have believed it was already the afterparty embarking. Not that it brings him any bad. This is just what he needs.
Urges, actually may be better to describe it with?
"Lord Jack Teague!" one greets him, and he is pulled into a group of people right from start. "He owns islands in the Caribbean."
"No way!" another comments and Jack must wryly smile, in the back of his mind remind himself of all the lies he needs to remember for this evening. Which is not too far from truth anyhow. Or at least a truth he would have loved to have. Everything except from the London-part, and Angelica, and Frances, and pretty much everything that was not just associated to the Caribbean, islands and wealth itself. A legendary name is what he likes to leave behind. If he will do anything to achieve that?
Oh, absolutely yes.
He is ready to die for it.
What is supposed to be a long table with fancy cut food looks by now as if war exploded upon it. A lady is laying at one end, laughing her head off as a man with open shirt hovers over her.
Jack simply and smoothly maneuvers himself past to snatch a shot of rum. Truly he is searching for a filled bottle, but servants running around seem to try refilling glasses instead. He had already asked a fourth servant and by now given up. Maybe only if he himself found the kitchen?
There is also gambling going on. Quite in any room. A group of men in company of the women would bet on something and while some in their drunken state broke a vase or pulled a knife though an expensive painting or something - others would happily cheer and quite though do the same.
It was Tortuga all over the place, yet in the most different way. He liked it though. It would suit him well for tonight.
It is inside a grander sort of library room that Baron Rothley himself is. Joined by the well familiar face of Montgomery and a few other gentlemen. There are ladies there too, and Jack is too welcomed by the simple sight of him.
"Jack! Come, you must join us!" urges a drunken Montgomery. With a spinning mind, Montgomery almost tips over the couch with his outreached arm, holding a glass of champagne upside down. He has a lady partly in his lap, laughing uncontrollably while another one tries to kiss him.
Rothley agrees in equally drunken state. "Jack, knew you'd come."
Carefully as if the couch may break, Jack plops down. He tries to blend in and gets himself comfortable soon when a servant offers him something to drink. A crystal glass with Caribbean gold is what sets him into a fine state. He wants to try again for a bottle but understands that is for now an impossible cause.
"Nobody can ever resist," Rothley smiles.
While Jack is about to reply 'Aye', he by himself gets caught midair and reforms his statement. "Dare to take a wild shot of no."
"I've never really been to the Caribbean islands. I'd like to go someday," Rothley confesses. "Perhaps Jack you'd give me an invitation to one of your islands."
Jack chuckles. "'Course, I'd do that. You're all welcome," he raises his glass and the others salute with him.
"I do have some sort of power of a few islands though," admits Rothley into the toast. He swallows his liquid and due his state of mind, never understands Jack's intent eye he wears on him. "I have governors on different islands, as this is my work of the British Crown."
"You are too fortunate," comments Montgomery.
Rothley chuckles bittersweetly, as if he disagrees. "No, Monty. I was the unfortunately bloody soul in England to get this foolish responsibility dropped upon me. Can't the bloody prince just do anything?"
Jack clears his throat, deciding to try the matter. "Say, tell me Baron Rothley, Peter - could anything ever make you consider writing the islands over to anyone else?"
Rothley laughs. "What for, if I may?"
Jack shrugs. "Let's say a governor ever asked for it. Offered you something more grand."
"Grander than an island?" wonders Rothley. "Hardly." For a moment he sips on his drink and winks to a lady to join his lap. Then he squints and musingly examines Jack. "Is that how you got your hands on islands, Jack? Are you giving me an advice here?"
Now this is a grand betting from Jack's side. He must either agree or disagree to this. And he has no idea how the man will react to this, to any of the replies. But he decides to try. The men are after all highly intoxicated.
"Caught," he spills, deeply trying to read the men's thinking.
Rothley seems bothered, wearing that frown. But if it is because of the taste of the strong alcohol or if it is the ideas Jack spilled, he has no clue of.
However at last it brings Rothley to lower his glass, hug the lady closer and eye Jack under a way more amused stare. "In fact, my friend," he begins. "You have handed me the greatest idea of them all. I have never understood this is a way for me, personally, to get my hands on other islands. Spanish ones, French ones. Buying from countries. I do have the fortune for it. Why make war and lose wealth, even if it might be for the exciting cause? And why shall I serve the crown?"
Even in his gone state, Montgomery exclaims. "Because you're a bloody baron! Royal title, yes?!"
Forcing a reassign smile, Jack tries to agree to Rothley. "Right?"
"To that we shall salute!" rings Rothley and a few servants arrive with further booze, champagne and ladies. Rothley gesturing one woman to sit down in Jack's lap. At first it is as if Jack does not keep up with the pace before he sees her aiming towards him. Immediately he holds his hands up as if reacting on pur instinct, smilingly trying to prevent her in the nicest ways he can.
"It's..," his words die as she anyhow plops down in his lap and begins to grind herself on him, laughingly giving him compliments of any sorts.
"Come on, Jack. This is how we do it in London," Montgomery cheers from his couch, three ladies attached to his sides while trying to stay conscious best way he can. "Her name is Mary."
"Mariana," the lady corrects.
"And Mary is the best, you got lucky!" Montgomery continues.
"Very well then," Jack tries to at first cover his discomfort and aims to reach for another shot of rum when Mariana gets it for him. She straddles his lap and teases, plays with him, into not taking the shot. At first she playfully holds it away from him and he smilingly tries not to spit irritatingly at her to just hand it over already. Stopping his actions, she does it for him, as if she feeds him the shot of rum. His false smile slowly grows genuine with any liquid she sinks down him, and eventually he lets her.
Her feminine voice whispers in his ear as she closely is sitting in his lap, his hands holding her in place. She is appreciating him and playing with him, flirtatiously eying him up and down.
In the corner of his eyes, he can see Rothley having a lady himself straddling his lap, making out with him for all he is worth.
In the background, there is music playing, musicians in many rooms, people drinking, cheering and the elegant mansion can seem to be upside down. It has been a long time ago since Jack could let go like this. And he even lets this woman, Mariana, do whatever she pleases with him. It has been too long since he had been in company with a woman, intimately. She speaks something, he must give her some sort of response because she is grinning as she works on him.
However it is first when she unbuttons his coat, that she pauses. He follows her vision down to her hands.
She has a necklace in her hand, and examines it very intently.
"This is a woman's," she says.
Indeed it is.
It is Angelica's.
Carefully with intoxicated motions, he grabs it and lets it dingle between his fingers. Shimmering white gold and diamonds. It is Angelica written all over it, even if her name is not physically engraved in this.
It is as if something just hit him. Or rather, someone emptied a bottle of water just over his head.
A bubble that popped.
And he hates to realize that.
Mariana continues to kiss his throat and grind herself against him. But he must push her away. He cannot do this.
While his mind tries to reassure him, convince him to return to Mariana's presence, he simply finds it impossible. As if his body works for itself, making such decisions of him refraining from it.
Wobbly he stands and quickly nods a goodbye to Rothley, who amused chuckles. Pretty much too occupied himself.
Most people are just as wobbly on their legs as Jack, or else his way out through the house had been slightly different. But he blends in perfectly as a servant helps him into his carriage with another one pulling the reins to bring him home.
His elbow balances against the window's edge of the carriage, and his hand holds the necklace in it. He looks at it for the whole ride. With any rock the wheel runs over, the necklace bounces and he is as if mesmerized of it.
That sneaky woman. She always knows how to rule his emotions, his actions and reactions, even in situations when she is not even present.
That bloody witch.
The worst part is that she is successful doing so.
She is the best.
Manipulative as she is.
Conniving.
She-devil.
Oh, are there more words he can describe her with? How a person can dive into his moments of life without even attending them herself. How does she do it?
The least she can do is to teach him to do it. Aye, perhaps he needs to do some teaching.
He smiles.
Pun intended.
When he returns home, he quite storms inside. All servants are asleep in their rooms, and Jack would enjoy this moment. Savor it for himself. He will just soak himself in water, freshen up and head straight for bed. Fall asleep and not wake up until late afternoon tomorrow. Nothing sounds more tempting than this.
With all his emotions washing through him, almost making him tremble - he must head for the dining room. To enter it and pour himself a glass of water.
"How was she?"
For the second time that day, he jumps upon her voice and turns around. In the darkness of a corner, he surely sees the shape of Angelica hiding in there.
"Come again?"
She moves out of the shadows, towards him but keeps her distance. "You smell her perfume."
For a brief moment he freezes by the sight. He does not know of what perfume not smell she speaks of, but even if his state, he can surely smell the lovely scent of Angelica. Will he hope for too much if he dares to believe she has bettered on it tonight? That she must have worked on her hair a bit more, drawn those kohl-pencils sharper to frame her eyes? Or what he notices the most - her attire. Which is definitely not one Hans ever would agree to, Jack can assure.
He raises his hand, showing off Angelica's necklace. "Why?"
"Why do you have my necklace?"
Now Jack must smile at her. "Don't try to fool me, love." She had placed it there as she buttoned his coat. She cannot possibly talk herself out of this.
When she places herself against the end of the overly long dining table, hands resting against it on each side of it, Jack wastes no time to not stand in front of her and push his upper body against her.
Maybe it was meant for her as a gesture of keeping away from him, specifically with those challenging eyes she kept giving. But with an already kept in breath, she seems to almost lose it when he manages the physical contact against her.
Daringly, she remains with her bum leaning on the table, eyes holding his.
"Did you get to talk to the baron?" she wonders.
His hands roam from her shoulders down her arms and he presses more against her until she must both bend her arms behind her and separate her legs due his closer presence. By his pushing, her feet lift from the floor and dangle above it. Jack strongly holds onto her lower waist to pull her more against him while he presses her down against the table with his upper body.
"I did."
She breathes. "And what?"
"What be ye doin', love?"
There seems not to be a thing in the world that would make them budge from their intense stare down.
"What are you doing?"
"My part."
Her hands move to his collar and his hands grab outside her skirt to with a firm motion pull her tights to have her closer against him. By now she can probably feel everything, physically from Jack and by her smirking face, he does think so. Her skirt is up and it is the most inappropriate position she has been in for years.
"So am I."
The smugness in Jack can even be seen in darkness, he is sure. Because just as well as she can feel him, he can surely sense the effect he does have on her too. But his wry grin grows as he fumbles up the necklace again and pushes it down her cleavage. If he had not been too busy savoring the feeling of touching her breasts while doing so, he might have gotten over the edge by simply hearing her hitched breath.
"Then stop acting all jealous, aye?"
She snorts. "In your dreams, Sparrow," but yet she cannot resist. "But you never answered. How was she? Better than me?"
His smile must grow more for her.
"For me?" he questions. "Would a woman ever be?"
And maybe Jack regrets this at once. He feels below him how she in a swift maneuver has clasped her legs around him to keep him closely in place while in his trapped position bringing him further down to her.
Her fingertip moves along his lips and her parted lips just wait for his final part of leaning down the last part. If he would or not, is something he never finds out, as a burning torch interrupts them both in their bubble.
"Oh, my apologies, my Lord," a servant stops tracks and dramatically gasps upon the sight. "And my Lady. Sincerest apologies." He leaves as quickly as he has arrived, but the moment is indeed gone as Jack lifts his upper body from Angelica's. By hearing Frances' muffled crying from upstairs, Angelica presses her hands against his chest to force him completely up from her.
When slides down from the dining table, she barely looks at him before she hurries to leave.
Maybe that is for the best. Even if he must admit he is somewhat out of breath.
And disappointed.
Just somewhat.
He just needed a woman. That was it.
His pulse is definitely high and he feels as if his whole body throbs in want. But irritatingly for just this specific woman. In the distance he can hear how she upstairs handles Frances alongside the nursemaid.
It is a must to tip the bottle of glass for more water and he almost sinks it all as the thirstiest man there ever has been. Then he decides to call it a night and go to bed. Which would probably be all by himself, as the missus would be busy with the baby.
For a moment he halters and thinks. Was it she that just tried to seduce him, to play house?
Or was it him, that just needed the warmth of a woman?
And again, worse.
Was it him that let her?
A/N: "Like it/Hate it?" :)