Barbossa was on his third massive tankard of grog when a voice over his shoulder said quietly, "I've heard you come to Tortuga this time every year."
He took another sip of his drink. "Apparently I'm not the only one," he answered without turning around. He was determined to show neither surprise – after all, what on earth would he be doing here if he didn't know she would come? – nor delight, which would be all the more undignified since it was genuine.
He had actually thought about Elizabeth a number of times over the past half-year, even when he was not in the bedroom. He'd worried a little, mindful of what he would do to her if he'd caught her with a man the way Will had…
But Will was not him, and Elizabeth was so clever and free of conscience that she had probably solved the problem within five minutes. That morning, she'd sported a vicious bite mark on her shoulder and bruises everywhere. Her most important bits were red and swollen and exquisitely raw. If her husband, blinded by love and prodded in the right direction by a few tears, were to look for the evidence of rape... he would certainly find it. The way Barbossa had put a knife to her throat to make his escape could only help with that.
Besides, Will Turner was hardly the type to throw his beloved out of the house after she had just finished bearing him a child… and even less the type to murder her in a jealous rage… or so the captain assured himself whenever the odd worry for his wench surfaced.
When he thought sufficient time had passed to demonstrate indifference, he turned slowly on his stool and smiled at her. "Evenin." He patted his knee and hugged her when she climbed aboard.
After a while he raised his head from her chest to look her in the face. "Things all right at home, missie?"
She tsked at him, shaking her head. "Now, none of that – do I ever ask you?"
"Fair enough." They stood up and his hands began moving over her with a little more purpose. "After all," he purred, smiling wider, "It's just tonight."
The End.
Seriously, if you liked it… say something! Maybe I'll write something else soon. My brain teems with NC-17 pirates material. I'm trying to tell myself that's a good thing…