So here's the next chapter. Thanks for reading! ^^
Bellatrix woke with a sharp pain in the back of her head. She lay on what was apparently the floor for several long minutes trying to recall what happened. Then it all flooded back – they were in Tortuga and she was guarding the ship. Sexy Jack Sparrow had distracted her and now their ship had been shanghaied. She sat bolt upright with a wave of fury to find herself locked in the brig. Her crew was spread out in the other cells.
She leaped to her feet and started screeching as she yanked on the bars, "You bastards! Get offa me ship! Ye can't have it! Be productive and make your own ship!"
After a couple of hours they finally sent someone down. He was a big man, but he didn't look smart at all.
"Quit fussin' precious," he sneered.
"Precious?" she hissed.
"Now 'e's done it," Victoria whispered.
"I'll show you precious."
"Will ye now?" the man said, reaching out a hand to touch her hair.
She grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm through the bars. She pulled a knife out of her bodice and sliced his brachial artery.
He yanked his arm back and snarled, "Yeh'll pay for that!"
She smirked and said simply, "No I won't."
He dropped to the floor and stopped moving within seconds.
"Great," she mumbled. "Me ship's gettin' dirty…"
Bellatrix grabbed the key ring off his belt and unlocked the door.
"Bloody brilliant!" Atticus shouted.
"I don' want any unnecessary deaths on our part," she said immediately. "I'll handle this. Where be our weapons?"
Mr. Totter nodded to a chair at the far end of the room.
"Bunch of dolts these fellows are, eh?" she murmured.
She grabbed a couple of swords and headed up to the deck. A good number of filthy, scraggy men dotted the deck.
"Who's in charge here ladies?" Bellatrix shouted.
All fell silent and a better-dressed man stood up straight at the far end of the deck.
She smirked, spun her swords skillfully, and said, "Right then. Let's have a go."
Men started coming at her. They seemed to be all about brute strength; no strategy whatsoever. By the time she had cut down half of his men, the captain finally stepped forward. He was good – made her wonder why he didn't train his crew. He was fast, too. She tried to keep up with his movements, but he eventually tripped her up. She scowled up at him and he pointed his sword at her throat.
He laughed sadistically and said, "I'd kill ye now, but why deny Mr. Beckett a hangin'?"
Despite her determination and anger, her blood ran cold at the mention of a hanging. Spineless government couldn't leave people be. Forced them to die without dignity, they did.
"That's right," the captain continued. "We be leavin' ye in Port Royal – to the government. They'll snatch ye up and have ye hanged within the day. Chain 'er up this time. Oh, and gag 'er, too. Don' wanna listen to 'er screechin' and hollerin' the whole way there."
Two Days Later
Bellatrix watched from the dock as those filthy bilge rats sailed away with their ship. At least they allowed her the dignity of returning her sword. She struggled to her feet and started into town thinking up a good story to save her skin. No way was she going to die while those dirty, thieving scum had her ship.
A couple of guards spotted her and shouted, "You there! Stop!"
They started running toward her. Admittedly, she panicked. Bellatrix turned and ran, but they caught her soon enough. She kept tripping over the chains. They took her sword, which just put her in a worse mood, and escorted her to a fancy, hugantinormous office. She raised her eyebrows as she looked around. 'Stupid rich bastards,' she thought to herself. A man was standing by a fireplace on the other side of the room with his back to her.
"Sir, we found this girl wandering through the streets," one of the guards said.
He finally turned around and her first thought was of how incredibly sexy she found him to be. She bit her tongue to hold back any flirtatious comments. That must be Cutler Beckett.
He took one look at her and asked a guard, "Pirate? Is she from Port Royal? If so, how did she get out?"
Bellatrix did her best at sounding civilized when she said, "I beg your pardon sir, but I'm not a pirate."
He quirked an eyebrow and said, "I'm sure."
"Please. My sisters and I have been held captive for weeks. The captain got sick of me – said I had an attitude. I kept gettin' out is all. He figured that if they left me here in the center of all the fuss lookin' the way I do, I'd be hanged without a second thought. Please, you have to believe me. You're my only chance."
Mr. Beckett looked at her long and hard. She tried not to let her mind wander to the dark side and stay focused on looking distraught.
"Can we get someone to remove those shackles?" he finally asked, never taking his eyes off her.
She found herself blushing under his intense gaze. She suddenly felt bare and vulnerable. Perhaps this would help with her case. Mr. Beckett stepped forward and someone left the room.
"Please sit down," he said, offering her a chair.
"Thank you," Bellatrix replied with a tentative smile. She couldn't see his reaction because he suddenly turned away.
A few minutes later the guard returned with a blacksmith. He unrolled a cloth carrier filled with tools. Her eyes widened and her palms started sweating. She prayed that this man had a steady hand. He took a look at the shackles and picked up a long, thin bar. She watched warily as he tried to slide it between the metal and her wrist. It pinched her skin. She squeaked and pulled her hands away.
"Just as I thought," the blacksmith said in a gravelly voice. "These shackles are on tight. They'll be tricky."
She looked from Mr. Beckett, who was watching nearby, to the blacksmith and said, "Maybe you should just cut them apart."
He laughed a hoarse, barking laugh and replied, "Only if ye want to lose yer hands. Don' worry, Miss. I've done this before."
She growled and put her hands back on the table with a scowl. Instead of cutting them off, as she was certain was his initial plan, he had to pick the locks. Half an hour later her hands were finally free. She rubbed her red wrists as he got to work cutting the shackles off of her feet. She hadn't realized before how tight the shackles on her hands had been. There were spots rubbed raw from puling and several painful blisters. Luckily her feet were released in only minutes.
"Thank you, sir," Bellatrix said with relief.
Mr. Beckett said something to the blacksmith as he was putting his tools away. The blacksmith left shortly and she stared at her hands, trying to make them stop shaking.
There was movement in the room and she said, "Thank you as well."
Mr. Beckett set a box on the table and said to the guards, "That will be all."
They left and she looked up at him. He looked down at her as he removed the lid to the wooden box. She took note with undeniable excitement that they were alone. He pulled out a brown bottle and some strips of fabric.
"Let me see," he ordered gently.
She tried not to say 'I'll give ye something to see' and set her hands on the table for him to see. She stared at his face intently, watching his every move. He carefully took her hands in his and turned them over to look at the underside of her wrists. She bit her bottom lip, trying hard not to giggle or smile.
'Control yourself, woman!' she thought desperately.
He touched her wrist. Bellatrix hissed and jerked back, a burning pain searing through her forearm.
He looked up and asked, "Sensitive?"
"A bit," she replied sharply, putting her hands back on the table.
He put some kind of medicine on her wrists and wrapped them carefully. She watched his face the whole time, glancing down every so often. He had to feel her staring. He glanced up at her and she smiled charmingly to soothe the impulse to jump him. His face turned red and he looked away flustered.
"What's your name?" he finally asked.
"Bellatrix," she replied smoothly. "Bellatrix Sage. And you, sir?"
He finished with the bandage and looked up at her face.
"Lord Cutler Beckett," he replied.
'Oh, think highly of yourself, do ye? I can fix that…' she thought in agitation.
She clenched her jaw for a few seconds before saying, "Thank you, Lord Beckett. Your kindness is very much appreciated."
"You're quite a way from home," Beckett replied as he put away his medical supplies. "Ireland, yes?"
Bellatrix nodded.
"The far side. We were traveling with some family friends. They attacked us in the middle of the night – killed most of us."
"Your parents." It was more of a statement than a question.
She looked at him and then looked away, shifting uncomfortably.
"No. My mum and dad have been dead for years. My sisters are all I have left. Is there anything you can do to help them?"
She looked him in the face with her best helpless, teary-eyed expression.
"Do you know the name of the ship?" he asked.
"I'll never forget it," she replied quietly. "It was The Siren's Call."
He nodded and said, "I'll see what I can do."
Bellatrix smiled again, but before she could thank him, he stood and continued.
"I won't have you staying somewhere dangerous. You will stay in one of my guest rooms."
'Score!' she thought gleefully. 'Oh, take charge kinda guy, eh? I kind of like it. This could be fun.'
"Thank you, Lord Beckett. For all of this," she said quietly.
He turned back to her from the fireplace and she inhaled sharply. He was so attractive she just wanted to knock him to the floor.
"Follow me."