A/N: Thank you to FreedomOftheSeas for beta-ing and some great suggestions! This chapter is mostly playful and a bit naughty, but the next one gets dark, intense and steamy. ;)

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~ Chapter Three ~

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Hector Barbossa had just had a door slammed in his face, and he frowned heavily and glared at it. While he hadn't the slightest desire to see what was about to take place in the room on the other side, he was irritated that he now stood by himself in the hallway, after the woman he had come a hairsbreadth from coaxing into his bed had dashed inside to deliver a troublesome baby.

While he knew absolutely nothing about such decidedly female matters, he had enough sense to realize that arriving arse first into the world was not typically the way one made one's debut, and it bode ill for the lady doctor being finished with her duties any time soon. Or, more importantly, soon enough so that he might be able to salvage some shadow of a remnant of a hint of the seduction he'd orchestrated all bloody night.

Fuck.

Deciding that he now had nothing better to do than drown his sorrows, he went in search of rum, and returned to his room and flopped on the bed where he'd nearly charmed her into joining him. Propping himself up against the headboard, he yanked the cork from the bottle with his teeth and spat it across the bed, and then downed a fair measure of the bottle and bemoaned his undeserved fate.

Chances were, that not only was he not, at the moment, anywhere closer to seeing more of Doctor Gray's anatomy, but he was likely the only pirate on shore leave in Tortuga that night that wouldn't be lustily burying his treasure. Even Turk, barely recovered from his devastating injuries, was likely tangled in the sheets with that curvy green-eyed vixen Lilith had assigned to him, enthusiastically demonstrating that the reason Barbossa and the crew said he was built like an ox was not due only to his great height.

Fuck.

Another large swig of rum left him contemplating the fact that even Bellamy had gotten himself laid, being able to put aside his infatuation with May for an evening to partake of the fine feminine offerings of Tortuga. Of course, Barbossa had used that to his own advantage, making sure to point out in front of Madeline just what Bellamy had been doing on shore leave the evening before. He had hoped that the idea would repulse her enough to counter any possible attraction she might be feeling toward the gallingly pleasant and annoyingly handsome young pirate.

But of course that left Barbossa without the option to find himself another wench for the evening, especially if he wanted to maintain any standing he'd gained in the young physician's eyes. He wondered briefly if he could get away with it and not have her know, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it wasn't just intense, lustful, animalistic sex he wanted, no, it was intense, lustful, animalistic sex with her. Just her.

Which meant only one thing, besides the fact that he was as horny as a two-headed goat at the moment – he was falling in love with her.

Fuck.

More rum found its way down his throat as he abandoned any thoughts of a whore for the evening, and he sulked and thought back over the events of earlier that night. It seemed at first that things were not going to get off on the right foot when he'd been forced to deal with the drunkard who was stupid enough to pull a gun on a Pirate Lord, and he regretted the way the man had been dragged away, screaming and bleeding profusely from the stump that used to hold his hand.

Not that he gave a bilgerat's arse about that inebriated asshole – had he been alone he would have instantly removed the other hand and then run the bastard through. No, it was the look of horror and awe that Madeline had met him with when he'd made short work of that cretin, and he worried for a moment that he'd scared her too much.

Barbossa took another swallow of rum. But if he hadn't been mistaken, and he was nearly certain he hadn't, there had been just a measure of enthrallment in the young woman's eyes, and gambling that she might be finding herself unwittingly drawn to a dangerous man like himself, Barbossa had offered her his arm. Which she had actually taken.

One thing was certain about Madeline Gray - the fact that compared to the whores of Tortuga she stuck out like a rose among thorns, and it pleased him to no end to be seen with the lass by his side. And Turk was right, of course - a fine little show pony she made indeed, he'd thought, as he led her along, but with this one it was much more her twat than her trot that he was interested in, and giving her a ride she'd not forget soon was featuring prominently in his thoughts.

Turk had also been right about Lilith not being pleased with the company he'd arrived at the Mermaid with, and the icy gaze she'd swept over Madeline's dress had spoken volumes. Olive skinned, dark-eyed and ebony-haired, with legs that went on forever (and which she'd enthusiastically wrapped around him many a time while tangled in the sheets with him) Lilith presented quite a contrast to the fair-haired woman walking in on his arm. Barbossa was sure that she was going to be jealous of May, and primarily because she knew him well enough to see, even before the young surgeon did, that he was becoming smitten with her. Lilith and he got on famously, but she'd never completely forgiven him for ending what they'd had together years before.

And not that Lilith had any trouble holding her own against another attractive woman, but an attractive doctor, who she suspected he fancied? Now that was sure to ruffle her feathers, and it amused him to no end.

As did the fact that it took only three seconds for Chevalle's eyes to wander over the woman whose hand he was kissing as the two were introduced, and then for a questioning smirk to meet Barbossa's own gaze. He'd merely smiled and shrugged nonchalantly, gloating at the amused but envious look that Andre had shot him.

Teague had been a different matter altogether, after he'd seated himself next to May. Once she'd had enough wine, she'd relaxed enough to converse pleasantly with the intimidating Keeper of the Code, but there was no question that all through dinner, Teague had been looking at her as if he were considering her part of the dessert course.

True, Barbossa himself had thought the same thing, but wanting to ensure that the rough looking but charismatic and smoothly charming Keeper knew she was off-limits, he'd made it a point to not-so-subtly drape his arm across the back of her chair.

Teague, savvy old seadog that he was, got the message loud and clear, and merely quirked an amused eyebrow up at Barbossa, without any other sign that anything was amiss. By the time he'd worked up to gently wrapping his arm around her shoulders and she was as much on the edge of his chair as her own, Edward had smirked and raised a glass at him behind May's back, toasting Barbossa's finesse.

Of course, the combination of large amounts of alcohol, fine food, and interesting company made for a pleasant enough evening for her, despite the fact that she was sitting amongst pirates of notoriety, and Barbossa wondered if the inhibitions of the woman sitting very close to him were diminished to the extent that he hoped. Not that he wanted to get her drunk and take advantage of her, (alright, so part of him did, but that wasn't really conducive to building any significant level of trust with her) but he was hoping she'd let her guard down just enough so that he could get close without her bolting.

Fate seemed content to let things go in his favor for the evening at that point, and he'd jumped at the chance to have her to himself for a few minutes, alone in the romantic setting of Lilith's garden. He was pleased with himself for having the audacity to put the flower in her hair, and delighted that she hadn't moved away when he did. He'd stood close behind her, securing the rose he'd picked, admiring her elegant neck and letting his eyes wander down over the absent back of her dress.

The perfect bloom he'd plucked caused him to contemplate whether or not the young woman whose hair his fingers were toying with might possibly still be a virgin, and although he had a sneaking suspicion that the man she'd been with in medical school had left no part of her unstudied, he found the thought of possibly deflowering her surprisingly appealing. He smirked behind her back. Ravishing virgins was the prerogative of any pirate worth his salt, was it not?

No matter –either way he'd have her before the evening was through, and even if that worthless rotter Nigel had been her first, Barbossa knew well that a second year medical student wouldn't have had a fraction of the experience he'd gained in nearly two decades more of sleeping with women. He looked forward eagerly to putting every ounce of the considerable skill he possessed into worshipping her in his bed.

Thoughts of exactly how he'd have her the first time sent a rush of heat to his groin, and he quickly stepped away from her and asked her the reason for wanting to speak to him in private in the first place, trying to change lines of thinking before his control slipped any further. Not that he'd be opposed to spending additional time seeing more of the garden with her, but the bougainvillea and hibiscus were clearly not the only bushes he was interested in exploring.

Fate once again seemed content to let things go his way, and after discussing Morgan's map with Madeline, he had the perfect (and nearly innocent) excuse to get her completely alone.

Perhaps as part of their ruse for Lilith's benefit, so the old flax wench wouldn't be too curious about what they were up to, or perhaps due to the fact that she'd had just a little too much wine and needed a bit of steadying, or perhaps, just perhaps because she wanted to be that close to him, Madeline had taken the arm he'd offered her and let him escort her all the way to the infamous north garden room. It had been sweet torture, feeling the warmth of her arm woven through his, and the softness of her breast that periodically brushed his arm when her balance proved to be ever so slightly compromised, and he had all he could do to keep his pace casual in an effort not to appear overly eager to get her beyond the door at the end of the hall.

Although it was central to his plan to get her into the large four-poster bed in the room that was obvious the minute the door opened, he knew that she was likely to prove less than cooperative if the first thing he did when the door closed was drag her toward the bed.

So, in order to take her focus off what sleeping arrangements would have to be made eventually, he did exactly that.

He admitted to feeling just a little bad about the terrified look she'd had when he'd grabbed her, but the way his faux assault had broken the ice and lightened the tension between them (several minutes after she had finally calmed down and forgiven him for his joke) had paid off handsomely. Not to mention that he'd managed to press the entirety of her body against his delectably for a moment –it had taken a great force of will to release her and not make short work of her dress then and there.

Once again, as she worked on the clues from the map, he'd had the opportunity to be in close proximity to her at the little table they were sharing, and he noted with great satisfaction that she didn't bother to move her arm away when he'd leaned closer and let his press against hers. Wanting to give her enough time to feel more comfortable with him, but not for the effects of all the wine she'd had to completely wear off, he'd decided to forge ahead by the time they had only one clue remaining. True, they could have taken a few minutes to puzzle it out, but he'd have it as an excuse to get her alone again if tonight didn't work out the way he'd hoped.

Keeping things as causal as possible, but taking once more to flirting, he'd flopped on the bed, tucked his hands behind his head, and waited for the game to begin in earnest.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" she asked him, clearly irritated as she realized her dilemma.

'Waitin' fer you to realize that in about a half hour's time that dress will be a long-forgotten pile of blue silk on the floor,' he'd thought.

"Gettin' some shut-eye," he'd answered innocently enough, praying she'd ask the question that he knew she'd have to ask next.

"And just where am I supposed to sleep?" she asked, right on cue.

'Oh, ye'll not have to concern yerself with sleep this night, lass,' he'd thought, but instead he opted to flirt and propped himself up on his elbow and patted the bed, indicating he wanted her to join him.

"You must be joking," she said, clearly getting flustered. Which was good. He wanted her off balance and confused about how she felt.

Continuing his flirtations, he teased her a bit. "Where be that sense of adventure, lass?" And she'd better have one if she was going to venture anywhere within his reach from that point on. The thought of grabbing her again and pulling her onto the bed and up against him stirred his blood, and it took an iron will to keep himself under control as they continued their conversation. They bantered about her dress and trust, and bloody hell, if she hadn't seemed to give in a little and approach the bed as they spoke.

When she'd gotten close enough that if she took another step or two she'd have to sit on the edge of the bed, he'd felt another rush of adrenaline at the prospect of succeeding in getting her to join him, and although not yet summoned, the too-long suppressed creature south of the border stirred, sensing a damsel about to be in delicious distress at hand.

Merda! He couldn't have that now! He'd almost gotten her where he wanted her. Typically a master of the hunt, he always waited until a sweet vixen was well within his grasp before unleashing the hound, but overeager to capture a well-deserved prize, apparently it was not heeding the bidding of its master tonight.

Madeline took another step closer to the bed as she spoke, and he nearly panicked, trying to turn his thoughts to mundane tasks, unpleasant memories...anything to help contain the unruly beast below decks.

Trust...she'd said something else about trust, but he wasn't completely paying attention to her, as despite the fact that he'd quickly slammed closed the metaphorical gate to re-capture the randy cur, it seemed it was now finding a way to dig under the bars.

The Blazes if his own sex-starved member wasn't going to be his downfall. Here he was, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible as she was talking about doing her best to trust him, and nothing was going to bloody well bung-up non-threatening faster than suddenly developing an obvious boner.

Fuck!

Realizing that she was expecting some sort of answer from him he replied to her comment. "Apologies," he said, smirking slightly, "but it's a dress like the one ye be wearin' as makes it more difficult for you to trust me."

Shit! Merda! That was the wrong thing to say! Sure, Madeline obviously found his flirtation amusing and was smiling despite herself, but the thought of her form-hugging attire only served to throw more fuel on the fire in his groin, and he knew he need to revert to desperate measures.

Going where he never, ever cared to go, in a last ditch effort to quash the insurgent uprising in his breeches before she noticed, he invoked the hated name of Jack Sparrow, sighing with relief as all of his being cringed reflexively, including man's best friend, which he was subsequently able to shove back behind bars with the promise it would only be for another half hour.

But oh, how wrong he'd been! Just as Madeline had taken a step closer to the bed, resolved to say something else about trust, apparently, Lilith had knocked on the door and swept her away to sort out the difficult delivery.

Which brought him back to the fact that he was now alone, well on his way to being drunk, and no closer to hoisting sail and dropping anchor than he had been at the beginning of the evening. At this point, any chance of carnal pleasure during the rest of the evening would likely only result from him coming to grips with the situation and himself.

Fuck.

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A/N: Two recommendations for well-written M fictions:

First -Conquests of a Well-Bred Prostitute by FreedomOftheSeas. If you've seen Johnny Depp in The Libertine, then you'll know that her charming, eloquent, egotistical and occasionally shocking style in this story is completely accurate to John Wilmot's character and very amusing!

Two -The Heart of the Leviathan by Intrepid Bandicoot. From the movie Elizabeth. For any of you Rushies out there, this is a beatifully written WIP that is setting up a great story line about Sir Francis Walsingham and also has some lovely steamy scenes!

Check them out and don't forget to let the authors know what you think!