A/N: The first chapter was so much fun to write, that I couldn't resist posting another 'lost scene' from the story as we know it from May's POV. I suspect there'll eventually be one or two more.

~Chapter Two ~

--

Tortuga.

Land of decadence and debauchery, of wantonness and corruption, of depravity and iniquity, and the place where a ship full of swag-laden pirates could participate in all of the above if they were willing to part with enough gold.

Except for Turk, that was. Not that he wasn't willing to spend a fair bit of coin and partake of all the sinful luxuries that Tortuga had to offer, no, the problem was that he was only a week and a half into his recovery from losing half of his arm, and the good doctor who had saved his life had decreed that he should remain aboard the ship and rest.

Bloody fuckin' hell! He'd rest when he was dead. If he didn't have reason, after narrowly escaping death, to celebrate with rum, and song, and a salty wench, or maybe two...hmm, or maybe two at once...

No matter - he was being held prisoner aboard the ship, and fuck him if friggin' Barbossa didn't agree to the idea.

Turk grumbled to himself, knowing full well that if it weren't for the fact that his best friend and captain was trying everything in his power to part that little blonde doctor from her petticoats, that he'd have been the first one to drag him into town for a celebratory night of dining, wining and wenching.

Bugger.

Turk was brought out of his reverie of self-pity by the fact that the Rogue Wave appeared to be getting too close for comfort to one of the notorious submerged shoals of the tricky inner harbor of Tortuga, and he decided to hurry to the quarterdeck to see what was going on.

--

Barbossa stood on the quarterdeck, his hands upon the wheel, guiding his beloved Rogue past the treacherous entrance to the harbor of Tortuga. He happened to glance down at the deck and caught a glimpse of where Madeline was speaking with Harlow, evidently discussing the list of medical supplies she wanted him to get while ashore.

Merda! Now if that wasn't a fine sight indeed, he thought. She must have dropped the list in question, and she had bent over to retrieve it, giving him a fine view of the way her skirts draped over her derriere as she did so. What he wouldn't give to get his hands on that sweet arse of hers, among other things.

He continued to stare at her after she righted herself and handed the list back to Harlow, compiling his own wicked list. Aye, he'd like to have that skirt off her and his hands roaming over her smooth, soft curves; maybe surprise her with a little slap on the rump.

Ah, yes, a spanking. Now, that was an entertaining line of thought.

He smiled wickedly to himself, still contemplating the woman on deck, thinking how marvelous it would be if it ever turned out that the well-mannered, prim and proper doctor found herself liking being turned over his knee and...

"Bloody friggin' hell!" Turk cried next to him, tearing him away from his naughty daydream. "Reef dead ahead!"

Barbossa started at the sight of the shoal he'd been ignoring while fantasizing about Madeline naked across his lap, and spun the wheel hard to port, causing the ship to lurch a little as they barely cleared the rocks.

"What the fuck are yeh doin' up here?" Turk demanded, and then he caught sight of Madeline on the deck below, where Harlow had grabbed her and kept her from falling. "You was watchin' that pretty little bird again, weren't yeh?"

Barbossa shot a slightly sheepish glance at Turk and took care that they avoided the next shoal.

"Blast and bugger me, Hector!" he scolded quietly. "Yeh nearly piled us up on those rocks. Some grand impression that would've made if yeh'd sunk the friggin' ship! Can yeh imagine the looks on Villanueva's and Ching's faces when they found out?"

"Calm yerself, Turk," Barbossa replied, after barking orders past him for sails to be reefed. "Ye shouldn't get all riled up –yer supposed to be restin'."

Turk didn't miss the smirk Barbossa wore. "Yeh still have to do somthin' about that, Hector," he pleaded more quietly. "Do whatever it is yeh think yeh need to do to drop yer anchor in her harbor," he said, nodding in the direction of where Madeline still was speaking with Harlow, "but yeh can't seriously plan on keepin' me confined to the ship with all those fine tits waitin' fer me in town."

Barbossa chuckled and shook his head. "I'll see what I can do. We wouldn't want all those fine tits to go to waste because ye didn't make it to shore."

Turk finally broke into a grin when he realized that Barbossa was going to take his side of things. "Nah, we wouldn't want that. 'Course, I do have to say," he added, jerking his head in the direction of Madeline and Harlow, "that there's nothin' wrong with the pair on that little Wiltshire kitten down there."

Barbossa instantly shot Turk a dark look and the tall pirate laughed and held up his remaining hand defensively. "Easy, mate. I'm jus' sayin' is all," he said pleasantly, "or hadn't yeh noticed?"

Barbossa sighed heavily, glancing once more at the woman on the deck below, and the cleavage that the low-cut green dress she'd found in that Beckett bitch's trunk was showing off to it's best advantage. "Aye, I've noticed."

Oh, and he had noticed, hadn't he? Although, he had made it a point to be discreet about the glances he'd stolen when in close proximity to her. Even at dinner the next night, when the stress and strain of being held prisoner aboard a pirate ship had caught up with her, and she'd furiously told him exactly what she'd thought of him, he'd tried to refrain from watching the way her breasts heaved against the material of her dress when she'd leaned both hands on the table and berated him.

When Turk had finally turned in early, still not fully recovered from his injuries, despite what he insisted, Barbossa had been left alone in his cabin with nothing but the remnants of a bottle of rum, and time on his hands to think about May some more.

Resting his head against the back of his chair, he soon found himself drifting off to daydream about her yet again. The scenario that played out in his head involved her returning to apologize to him for yelling at him earlier, and in the unlikely but entirely appealing version that his mind concocted, she offered to make good for her affront in any way he saw fit.

He patted his thigh, indicating he wished her to seat herself there, and she readily complied with his request. "Is that so bad?" he asked her, softly teasing as he wrapped one arm around her waist.

She merely shook her head, looking contrite and demure in an appealing way.

"A lot of names ye called me earlier, Miss Gray," he admonished her, reaching with his free hand to gently move her long hair so it fell back over her shoulder, uncovering the low neckline of her dress.

"What would you have from me to make amends for that?" she asked, clearly leaving the door wide open for him to ask for whatever he wished. He made no attempt to hide the appraising look he gave her chest, and instinctively she headed in the direction he wished, reaching with delicate fingers to undo the first two buttons on her bodice.

She watched his reaction, while he watched her fingers, and when she saw the intense look he met her eyes with briefly, she smiled. "Another?"

"Aye," he croaked, captivated by what she was doing, and he watched her unfasten another button and expose more flesh.

"Another?" she asked playfully, and this time he merely nodded and monitored the next inch of her dress that came open. She paused, likely tormenting him a little, and waited for him to speak.

"Undo the rest," he ordered her very softly, and when she'd finished with the last few buttons, she slowly drew back the loosened fabric of her bodice, gradually revealing smooth shoulders, supple arms and at last, shapely firm breasts.

His eyes drank in all her exposed flesh, and impatient to have more of her, he reached to lightly cup one breast in his strong hand, sighing with pleasure at the feel of the warmth and curve of her pearly skin in his palm. She closed her eyes at his touch and sighed fetchingly, clearly wishing him to continue.

Impatient still after yearning for her so intensely, he leaned forward, desiring, like any pirate worth his salt, a ruby over pearls, and gently captured the crowning gem of the breast he lifted gently in his mouth. The breathy moan of pleasure she uttered sent a thrill through his blood, and as he suckled her petal-soft flesh, he was rewarded with the sensation of her nipple drawing tight and stiff against his tongue.

A knock on the door roused Barbossa from his erotic daydream, and he became painfully aware that not only was his lovely fantasy being rudely interrupted, but that a fine feminine nipple was not the only thing that had gone hard during his lustful musings again.

Bloody hell.

Once more, he bade the fearsome serpent south of the equator to bide its time, and it reluctantly withdrew to its lair as he called for the knocker to enter.

Bellamy entered and quickly reported that all was well on deck and that the watch had changed, trying to efficiently perform his duty and get out from under the daunting gaze of his intimidating captain.

Barbossa merely nodded, indicating acknowledgement and dismissal in one gesture, but then a thought came to him before the younger pirate could escape the cabin.

Madeline had desperately wanted to go ashore, and while he had refused to let her accompany any other of his crew, not trusting them to put enough effort into guarding her, and likewise, with some of them, not convinced that they wouldn't be the thing that she needed protection from, he discovered that the answer to his problem, and hers, was just about to scurry out the door.

"Master Bellamy," Barbossa called, allowing himself a tiny self-satisfied smile at the subtle but noticeable way Bellamy cringed at being called back by the Pirate Lord. "I have a favor to ask of ye…"

--

And so he gambled, risking that letting her go ashore with Bellamy would increase his own standing with the lady doctor more than it would that of the young handsome pirate he had assigned to be her bodyguard. He knew Bellamy fancied Madeline enough that he'd take protecting her seriously, that much was obvious, yet he worried that if she spent more time with him she might find that she fancied him as well. But Barbossa had a sneaking suspicion that the woman who had enough gumption to enter the medical college as the sole member of her sex, and was managing to make the best of being a prisoner aboard a pirate ship, would probably find herself attracted to a man with more substance than Bellamy, and Barbossa was nothing, if not a man of substance.

--

The gamble had paid off, Barbossa thought, as he paced in his cabin the next evening. Not only had he ending up spending most of the afternoon in the company of his reluctant ship's surgeon, but he'd managed to discover that the educated young woman had a decent working knowledge of Latin. He'd gained more knowledge of Morgan's map with her help in an afternoon than he had by himself in two years, and he now had an excuse to have time with her alone again tomorrow.

And of course, there had been the unexpected bonus of the scorpion she'd carried back from her sojourn to the beach with Bellamy. Not only was he sure his standing with Madeline had inched up a few notches since he had rescued her from the foul little monster, but the tiny beast had given him the perfect excuse to get closer to her physically.

He stopped his pacing at the windows and smiled wickedly to himself. He highly doubted that there would have been a chance of her picking up a second scorpion on the beach, but he hadn't needed to share that tidbit of information with her as he shook out her skirts and ran his hands along her dress and her curves to 'search' for another one. No, then it would have precluded him from being able to run his fingers through her hair, and unbeknownst to her, make use of the height advantage he had to gaze over her shoulder and down the front of her dress as he did so.

Of course, it had been a struggle to let go and step away, and not grab her and tip her head back by the handful of hair he held and seize her mouth in his, stealing the passionate kiss he so desired. If she ever knew how far more dangerous he could be than the scorpion…

He resumed his pacing, thoughts of how she had picked up the little vermin on the beach creeping back into his mind. She'd told him of how she'd refrained from joining Bellamy and Waters as they ditched their cares and their clothes to go swimming that morning.

Thank the Powers that the woman couldn't swim. He didn't care to let his mind wander along the lines of her splashing playfully in the surf, naked with Michael Bellamy, and he found he needed to unclench his fists after thinking about the possibility of Bellamy laying a hand on his captive surgeon. He knew only too well where Bellamy's thoughts about the fetching lass were running; that much was obvious to another man and pirate such as himself. But Bellamy was too preoccupied with his infatuation with the lady doctor to pay much attention to the fact that he was not the only one who had developed a fascination with the reserved but kind young doctor.

Barbossa picked up an apple on his next circuit past the bowl they resided in, taking a bite and savoring the treat as he mulled over the situation. Bellamy, although younger than himself by a decade and irritatingly handsome, lacked the subtlety and finesse necessary to perpetrate an effective seduction, especially of a woman such as Madeline Gray. That much was obvious even in the way the eager younger man had been fairly blatantly proposing a tryst on the beach to her.

True, she may have been amused by his clumsy flirtations, but a wiser man would know better than to be so obvious, and a more experienced one would know that while rutting with passionate abandon, dripping wet in the shallow surf seemed quite appealing on the surface, the painful reality was far from as pleasant as first supposed. Sand got absolutely everywhere, and usually put an awkward and rapid end to any sort of amorous activity.

Barbossa smirked to himself as he took another bite of apple. He was certain that fornicating on the beaches of Tortuga was not Madeline's style, whatever Bellamy's little fantasy might be. He was determined that if anyone aboard his ship would be doing any fornicating with her, it was going to be himself, and he would certainly see to it that the reason that sweet young thing ended up dripping wet had nothing to do with the surf.

--

"Well," Turk said, grinning as he sat across the table from Barbossa, "tonight should be right interestin' if nothin' else." The two of them were giving the lady doctor a few more minutes before collecting her to accompany them on their evening visit to Tortuga. "Can't wait to see the look on ol' Tortuga Lily's face when she sees the company yeh've been keepin' lately."

Barbossa groaned and buried his face in one hand. "Merda! I'd not even given' any thought to Lilith. This'll not sit well with her, I'll wager."

"That's what I'm countin' on," Turk said, still grinning. Anything further he might have said about Lilith's reaction to Madeline was cut short by the urgent knock at the door.

"Enter!" Barbossa called, watching as a very reluctant Hoskins came to stand just inside the doorway to the cabin. "What is it yeh want, Master Hoskins?"

Hoskins looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but standing in Barbossa's presence at that moment, but he knew well enough that it never did well to delay answering the older pirate sharply, and he swallowed hard and spoke.

"There's been fight between the crew and the French pirates," he croaked, reflexively cringing once he'd delivered the news, anticipating the inevitable outburst from his temperamental captain.

Barbossa's eyes went cold as his expression darkened dramatically, and his voice dropped to a blatantly dangerous whisper.

"What?"

Turk sprang nimbly to his feet despite his great size after seeing the look that crossed Barbossa's face. "Well, I'll just be off to fetch our doctor," he said, hurrying past a panicked-looking Hoskins and shooting him a sympathetic look as he escaped through the cabin door.

He didn't know what other question Hoskins might have been forced to answer, but he was just as happy to be out of the cabin when he heard what sounded like a chair ricocheting off the wall, and Hoskins came flying through the door behind him.

--

He stood there impatiently, waiting for May to open the door once he'd knocked, "Well, hurry up," he'd called back to her saying she'd be another minute. "Barbossa's in a right state, and keepin' him waitin' won't improve his mood none."

Fortunately, it really was only a minute before she opened the door, and when he took in the way she had elegantly pinned up her hair and changed into a blue dress that hugged every curve and left very little to the imagination, especially with all that bare skin in back, he knew that he'd better up the amount he'd wagered with Starkey about whether it would be Barbossa's or Bellamy's bed she ended up in.

He'd already bet heavily in his captain's favor, and since there could be no logical reason for why she'd dolled herself up for a trip into Tortuga, of all places, it must mean her reason was a more illogical one.

Like the fact that she was falling for Barbossa, whether she knew it yet or not.

--

Barbossa paced agitatedly in his cabin, furious at the fact that Stoker had gotten drunk and started the row between the two pirate crews. Now he'd have to kiss that arrogant popinjay, Chevalle's arse to ensure the penniless yet ruthless pirate and he remained on good terms. True, he and Andre had always gotten on well enough for Pirate Lords, but the fact that he'd have to find a way to apologize infuriated him to no end.

Still steaming, he snarled wordlessly and grabbed up a half empty bottle of rum, heaving it against the wall where the chair had hit a few moments before. Glass shattered and rum ran down the dark wood, even as the door to the cabin opened and Turk brought in the doctor.

Barbossa completely missed the knowing smirk that crossed Turk's face, as preoccupied as he became with just what it was Madeline was wearing, and he made a very conscious effort not to let his jaw drop open.

If he'd been tempted before to part her from the green dress that she'd made due with for a while now, it was all he could keep from not shoving Turk back out the door and parting her from the one she now wore.

Blue silk clung to her curves in all the right places and all the right ways to set his pulse racing, and he could tell by the way the fabric smoothed over the contours of her breasts and hips that there was only one layer of delicate fabric between him and her silken flesh.

He took one step closer, oblivious to Turk and contemplating how simple it would be to overpower her here and now. She stood a good deal slighter in stature than himself, and it would be nothing to tear the flimsy silk from around her legs and trap her against the wall. A vision of him sweeping her up and pinning her against the dark wood while he took her roughly flashed through his mind, and he could almost hear her imagined cries of simultaneous protest and pleasure as he drove into her moist heat, again and again.

Imagining her wrapping her arms longingly around his neck and her thighs around his hips as he savaged her against the wall, he startled a bit when Turk's voice snapped him out of his brief but lustful musings.

"If yer done with yer tantrum, Hector, there's some serious drinkin' to be done," he said quietly.

"Aye, yer right," Barbossa replied, turning away to fetch his frockcoat and hiding the wry smile that spread across his lips. 'Serious drinkin' was a term the two of them shared to indicate if one had found a cooperative wench to bed during an evening in the past. Apparently Turk knew him well enough to know what was likely going though his mind, and communicating with him that he thought Barbossa was on the right track, judging, most likely, by the way the young doctor had taken so much care with her appearance for the evening.

He perched his hat upon his head, and indicated Turk and May should head for the door. "Shall we?" he said, remaining cool and casual until she turned around and he saw the back of her dress.

It was completely absent, and revealed smooth, bare skin, all the way from her shoulders to the top of her hips. He followed along behind her, contemplating how it would feel to drag his long nails down her delicate spine, and too preoccupied with whether or not she might enjoy such a thing to pay attention to where he was going.

"Damn!" he swore, a second after his nose had collided with the doorframe.

Recomposing himself and adjusting his skewed hat, he gathered every ounce of self-control he possessed, and headed off to see where wining and dining his lovely captive surgeon in Tortuga might get him.