A/N: Alright, guys, first of all I'm sorry this update has taken so long. I've been so unbelievably busy and also rather uninspired. Which brings me to my second of all: I'm not very happy with these next two chapters. Originally, I had intended to put this and the content in the next chapter into one, but it was becoming too long. Plus, I've just been so uninspired that it's taking me forever to wrap of the end of what is now going to be chapter eight. So in consideration of time and readability, I decided to split it into two chapters. Let me know what you think (good or bad). And I promise I have plans for this story, and I am trying very hard to move the plot along, so stick with me :)

Chapter Seven

It had been days since the hanging. James sighed and looked out his window at the afternoon sun in the clear blue sky. He was not yet used to this unending idleness, and he felt positively bored to tears. He had been on walk after walk and had perused most of the novels in his library to no avail. He wished to be doing something that had meaning, but he couldn't figure out what.

Eyes still on the tranquil sky outside, he absently touched the piece of eight where it now rested against his chest. When he had returned home that day, he couldn't feel comfortable leaving the coin to rest unwatched in his desk as he had originally planned. Nor could he keep it in his pocket, for he feared it would slip away. So he had made a small hole in the silver through which he threaded a very thin strip of leather that now hung around his neck. It rested just low enough on his breast where it would be concealed underneath his shirt, so he need not fear discovery. He couldn't say why he felt the need to keep the strange coin a secret, but he knew he must.

It was a strange piece of eight indeed. Its singing had quieted to a soft vibration now. Most of the time he couldn't even feel it, but if he remained perfectly still then he could feel the reverberations within his chest, humming to his very core. He still didn't know what it meant, but he felt a sense of foreboding. He had encountered the paranormal more times than he liked, and it somehow always started with some curious little incident just like this. The appearance of this piece of eight did not bode well for his quiet dreams of settling into a life of tranquility and solitude.

"Oh, Mr. Norrington, do look what the tailor's apprentice has just dropped off!" Alice scurried into the room, beaming with pleasure. Her arms were brimming with packages.

"Careful, Alice," he said, standing up to unburden her. "You'll hurt yourself."

"Nonsense! Don't fuss so." She swatted his hands away and began opening one of the parcels. "Ah, there! Aren't these lovely? I took the liberty of ordering some new clothes for you when you returned." She opened a small round package and lifted out a powdered wig that looked much like the one he had lost. "And won't you look dashing in this!"

He feigned offense. "I'm hurt. I thought you liked my hair."

Alice smiled sheepishly. "Ah, Mr. Norrington, you know I think you're a handsome man no matter what you wear, but it's not me you'll be wanting to impress. The ladies will find you very fetching in this."

"Will they?" he muttered absently. He cleared his throat. "I do appreciate you ordering the wig and new clothes. They were sorely needed. Although, I must say the eligible young ladies of Port Royal have not been foremost in my thoughts."

"No?" asked Alice with a disappointed frown. "Do none of the ladies take your fancy?"

For reasons unbeknownst to him, a picture of Rosalie Gillette – freckled skin and intelligent green eyes – arose in his mind. He blinked to dispel the vision. "No, Alice," he answered, "I can't say that they do."

"Such a pity," the old maid chided. "It would be nice to have another woman about the house."

James took a sip of his tea and forced a chuckle. "Are you and Nathaniel tiring of my company so soon?"

"Why, of course not, Mr. Norrington," she scoffed, unaware of the pain the conversation caused him. "'Tis a fact that I think of you as my own son, it is. It's just that a woman's touch about the place would be nice is all."

Wouldn't it?

…

Later that day, James sat with Phillip over a game of chess in his office. Unable to stomach another afternoon walking aimlessly about his estate, James had decided to brave the public and pay Phillip a visit at the fort.

"Lord Beckett will have my head if he sees that I have allowed you to tear me away from my paperwork," Phillip mumbled as he studied the chess pieces intensely, pondering his next move.

"If I recall correctly," James replied wryly, "you were gazing out the window like a dreamy schoolgirl, not attending to work of any kind. And you nearly jumped out of your skin when I opened the door, I might add."

"A schoolgirl?" Phillip gasped indignantly. Then he smiled as he moved his bishop to take one of James' pawns. "Check."

James bit back a chuckle. Phillip was not the most skilled chess player, despite what he may think.

Phillip's imminent doom was delayed when there was a brief knock, promptly followed by the door swinging open with a bang. Phillip rose from his chair so quickly that it almost toppled over, and an apology was on his lips before he realized the intruder was his sister. James couldn't help but notice the healthy flush to her cheeks and the shine of her red-gold locks. She looked lovely in a simple rose colored gown.

"Keep your trousers on, Phillip," she said with a grin as she closed the door behind her. "Were you expecting the King? It's only me."

James laughed heartily as Phillip breathed a sigh of relief and righted himself in his chair. "Don't come barging into my office again, Rose, or I'll…." He trailed off with a slight frown.

"What?" Rosalie taunted, her good-natured grin still in place. "You'll tell Mother?"

Phillip smirked. "I just might. I doubt she knows you are out gallivanting without a chaperone."

This seemed to sober her up a little. "I am far too old to need a chaperone." She sniffed daintily. Then she turned her attention to James as she strolled over to their table. "Mr. Norrington, it's a pleasure to see you as always." She breamed, and he couldn't help but he return her infectious smile.

"The pleasure is mine, Miss Gillette," he returned after he had risen and offered her a bow. "I can always trust you to liven up your brother here."

James surprised himself by how easily he could fall into camaraderie with her. In fact, aside from his elderly house keepers, Phillip and Rosalie were the only company he could stand to keep since his return to Port Royal.

"I take offense to that remark," Phillip muttered. "It's your move, Mr. Norrington."

"Aren't you going to offer your sister a seat?" James prompted with a grin. He had grown accustomed to their sibling banter, and he knew this would spark another quarrel. Sure enough….

"You speak of her as if she were a true lady, James," Phillip mused without taking his eyes from the chess board.

"I'll have you know I am very much so a proper young lady," Rosalie replied, slightly ruffled.

"Tell me, James," Phillip addressed him, still wearing a smirk. "Would a young lady traipse around town on a horse – astride no doubt – un-chaperoned? I assure you my dear sister has not only done this today but will probably continue for many days to come."

"I don't know, Phillip," James replied thoughtfully, "I admire a lady with spirit." He looked at Rosalie as he stated this last and watched her blush shyly.

Phillip gaped at him, and James too was surprised by his own boldness. "So, Miss Gillette," he recovered, clearing his throat, "you like to ride?"

"Why, yes!" she answered excitedly, seeming to forget her embarrassment. "I absolutely love - !"

"The game, James!" Phillip interrupted agitatedly.

Rosalie and James rolled their eyes simultaneously then grinned when they realized it. "Do continue," she prompted. "Don't let me interrupt your game. I was simply bored at home and came to pay a sisterly visit."

"Thank you," Phillip growled. "Now – your move, James."

"Yes, yes." James had already contemplated his next move, and he promptly advanced his castle two spaces, blocking Phillip's assault on his king.

"Oh." Phillip looked surprised and a little disappointed. "Well, my move then."

Rosalie had drifted closer to their table. James could smell the light lavender scent she wore. "He's got you in two turns, Phillip," she observed after studying the board for only a moment.

James barked a laugh of surprise. It was true.

"What? Where?" Phillip exclaimed.

"I'll never tell," she taunted.

He glared at each of them in turn. "I see it," he lied. "He doesn't have me yet." James rolled his eyes, and Rosalie must have seen him because he heard her giggle. "Well, he doesn't!" Phillip continued to protest.

"Of course I don't," James said. "Now, if you please, it is your move."

Phillip continued to glare at the board. He bit his lip and reached for one of his pieces… then withdrew his hand. He picked up another piece, only to put it down and withdraw his hand again.

"Oh, come on, Phillip," Rosalie sighed after about ten minutes of silent contemplation. "Just make a move already!"

Phillip slammed a pawn into place so hard that the whole board shook. "Fine," he grated out, "if you're such an expert chess player, why don't you play him, Rose?" He stood and with an exaggerated bow offered Rosalie his seat.

She looked taken aback. James raised one eyebrow and gave her a challenging look. "Well, Miss Gillette?" He was already putting the pieces in their rightful places on the board, ready to start a new game.

Rosalie grinned at him and moved to take her seat. "I suppose one game couldn't hurt."

…

Rosalie watched James as he studied the chess board. He was clean shaven and wore a powdered wig, but she still found him very handsome. His dark eyebrows were drawn down in concentration, and he wore a slight, but not unbecoming, frown as he pondered his next move. Phillip had long since left off watching their game and had returned to his desk. The room was silent apart from the rustle of Phillip's papers and the sound of the waves as they hit the beach outside.

She couldn't help but smile as she watched one corner of his mouth draw up into his familiar smirk. He carefully placed one of his pieces. Rosalie schooled her expression into one of calm interest as he looked up at her. "I do believe I have you now, Miss Gillette," he quipped. "Although you are a far more skilled opponent than your brother."

"I can still hear you," Phillip muttered from his desk without looking up from his paperwork.

James laughed, but Rosalie looked away, blushing. I have you now, Miss Gillette. She chuckled nervously. "Yes, well, someone had to get the brains in the family." She studied the board. "You're lucky I arrived when I did or you might've been stuck with him." She blocked his attack on her king with one of her bishops then looked up at him with a smug grin.

"Excuse me!" Phillip blustered from his seat. "I do not appreciate being discussed as if I were not even in the room." He added as an afterthought, "And I'll have you know I got plenty of brains. Thank you very much."

"Calm down, Phillip," James scoffed. "You know I appreciate your friendship."

"I'm afraid my dear brother is jealous," Rosalie taunted, smiling teasingly at Phillip. He rolled his eyes.

James scoffed. "There's certainly no need to be jealous. You two are the only citizens in Port Royal who don't mind being seen with me since my resignation – aside from my house servants."

"I'm not jealous," Phillip insisted. "I'm a grown man, not a toddler. I can share my friends. I simply do not enjoy being called daft by said friend."

"Of course you're smart!" Rosalie said with an exaggeratingly soothing voice before turning back to James and the chess board. She rolled her eyes and giggled quietly.

"I have an idea," James interjected before Phillip could make a reply that would start another sibling tirade. "I would be honored to have you both as guests for dinner at my house tonight. I don't regret my choice to resign my commission, but I have had a hard time becoming accustomed to the great amount of free time I now have on my hands."

"That sounds lovely!" Rosalie failed to keep the excitement from her voice. She felt her heart pick up its pace slightly. "Doesn't it, Phillip?" She wiped small beads of perspiration off her hands onto her gown. So far, she had only seen James by chance, and he had always been polite to her. More recently he had been increasingly amiable, and she noticed that he seemed to enjoy her company. Still, this sudden invitation took her by surprise.

"Certainly," Phillip replied. "And I'm sure you would appreciate having dinner with someone besides Mother or Isabel."

"Oh, would I ever!" she exclaimed. She smiled fondly at James. "I do appreciate you inviting me – I mean us. It will be very nice to get out of Mother's house for an evening."

"The pleasure is mine," James returned. She noticed how the corners of his eyes crinkled pleasantly when he smiled, and she felt her heart flutter again. "Now if I can just best you in this game," he continued slyly, "I can go home and began preparations for this evening."

Rosalie watched as he pondered his next move, deft fingers hovering over the ebony pieces. Her heart was still turning somersaults in her chest for the excitement of having dinner with him that night.

What am I doing? She thought to herself. I can't act like a besotted little girl over one dinner invitation! Besides, he probably only invited me to be polite. After all, we don't know each other very well.

She cleared her throat and tried to regain a cool expression. She knew she must have been blushing furiously. She couldn't count how many times she had wished she could hide her emotions better.

"There you are, Miss Gillette." James' deep, sultry voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She looked up at his gray-green eyes and his triumphant smirk. "I'd like to see you get out of that."

He had her trapped three ways. The game was forfeit. "Touché, Mr. Norrington," she conceded. "It would seem that I am… at your mercy." Her voice faltered as she uttered these last few words, and she realized just how true they were. She nervously tucked a strand of her behind her ear.

James smiled at her, and Rosalie felt as if she were the only other person in the world. "You are a very worthy adversary," he said. "I do enjoy a challenge. Maybe we could…."

But the door slammed open and cut him off. Bartholomew Beckett strode into the room without knocking. Rosalie instantly felt the office grow chillier. She looked at James and saw an expression of such intense hatred in his eyes that she shivered.

Beckett raised his eyebrows coolly when he had surveyed the room and its occupants. "Ah, if I had known you would be hosting a party in your office, Admiral Gillette, I would have requested an invitation."

Before Phillip could reply, James pushed back his chair and stood. "I believe I will take my leave now, Phillip." He turned to Rosalie, and she stood, knocking over a few of the chess pieces in her anxiousness. She was dimly aware of Beckett's scrutinizing eyes on her. "Miss Gillette," James continued, "it has been a pleasure, as always." He took her hand, and after what seemed to be a moment of indecision, he softly kissed the skin just above her knuckles.

Rosalie could barely breathe, much less form a coherent response. But she finally managed to swallow and reply. "Thank you, Mr. Norrington," she breathed. "I – I look forward to joining you for dinner this evening."

James bowed to her and her brother as if no one else was in the room and walked out the door. He never once looked at Beckett or acknowledged his presence with more than the dark expression Rosalie had glimpse when Beckett first entered the office. But the door slammed shut behind him a little too loudly for anyone to doubt the insult.

"I apologize, Lord Beckett," Phillip began, wringing his hands. Rosalie felt a pang of genuine sympathy for her brother. He tried to be commanding and formidable, but at times like these he seemed like no more than a young boy hopelessly seeking the approval of a superior. He was so unsure in his new position and so fearful of not living up to expectations. She frowned at Beckett. How dare he bluster in here and try to intimidate him so!

"Don't bother, Gillette," Beckett interrupted with a wave of his hand. "I won't tell you that you can't entertain guests in your office. Though, it goes without saying that if your duties aren't completed first…." He trailed off with what Rosalie supposed was meant to be a menacing tone. She turned her face away from him and rolled her eyes.

"Of course!" Phillip exclaimed, fumbling with the papers on his desk. A few fluttered to the floor, and he knocked his quill across the desk in his nervousness. "Of course, sir, I assure you, I have attended to all my duties."

"Very good." Beckett smirked. Rosalie couldn't help but notice how much less pleasant the expression was on him compared to James. It was a completely different attitude. Beckett's was all arrogance and pomp, but there was something more likeable, even endearing about the way James did it. "I know this endless shuffling of papers and deskwork must be boring you to tears," Beckett continued, his mood seeming to improve a little. He smiled secretively. "But I assure you, things shall be livening up quite a bit very soon. I have it on good authority that our pirate friends may be on the move, and we will be ready to foil any unsavory plans they might have." His eyes took on a feverish gleam in his zeal. "But perhaps," he went on, cooling again, "we shouldn't speak of such things in mixed company." Phillip didn't protest, and Beckett turned to her. "Miss Gillette, how are you doing this afternoon?"

So nice of you to notice me, she thought sarcastically. "Very well," she replied tersely. She was still standing from where she had bid James farewell, and she stepped towards the door. She didn't know how much interest Beckett would take in her, but she didn't want to be trapped in conversation with him when all she really wanted to do was go home and think about the upcoming evening. "But it is growing late, and I do believe I should be getting home." She increased her pace, making sure to give him a wide berth as she passed.

"Oh!" He grabbed her wrist despite her attempts and stayed her effort to escape.
"Miss Gillette, before you go – and I think your brother should take notice of this as well – people of your station and upstanding reputation in the community would do well to steer clear of the likes of Mr. Norrington." He stressed the "Mr." with a sneer full of contempt. Rosalie could barely keep from glaring, and she felt her cheeks and ears heating up with a flush. "Let's just say that it would not bode well for you – for either of you – if you continue your friendship with him."

Rosalie jerked her wrist from his grasp maybe a little too harshly. "I appreciate your advice, Lord Beckett," she grated out, "but it won't be necessary. I am fully capable of seeing to my own wellbeing." She bared her teeth in what she hoped passed for a smile.

"We shall see," Beckett mused coolly, studying her with an icy expression. "Very well, you may go." He turned away from her without another word.

Rosalie stood by the door, fists clenched at her sides. She could feel her nails etching angry marks into her palms. How dare he speak to me that way? She caught Phillip's eye where he still stood at his desk. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. "Don't." She read the plea in his look. If she unleashed the fury she felt on Beckett, she knew it could mean the end of her brother's position as admiral. She also knew how much her brother's commission meant to him. Biting her lip to hold back her tirade, she turned and strode out the door.

…

James made his way back to his home at a leisurely pace. It was hot, as it usually was in Port Royal, but the breeze coming off the sea made for a pleasant day. He thought it was a nice time for a quiet stroll alone with his thoughts. Despite Beckett's intrusion, he had retained his favorable mood and was anxiously looking forward to his dinner engagement. Although Phillip had overtaken the position of admiral and was sure to become Beckett's right hand man in Port Royal, he did not seem as caught up in the zeal for pirate chasing and bloodlust as his superior. In fact, when James himself had been Phillip's commander, he had followed orders as well as any other man, but it had not been his passion. And Rosalie had shown only poorly concealed distaste for Beckett and his plans since the hanging. So James knew he would not have to spend the evening discussing how competent a leader Beckett was or his "noble cause."

He thought about Rosalie then, not for the first time since he had left her. He had surprised himself by how much he enjoyed her company that afternoon. Their chess game had lasted a long while, but he had been so engrossed in not only the game but also her clever quips and stimulating conversation that he had not even noticed. She was indeed an interesting young woman. If he was being completely honest with himself, he had to admit that seeing Rosalie again was what he was looking forward to most about the evening.

Alice would certainly be pleased. Of course, Phillip's attendance at dinner would be of no surprise to her. He had had Phillip and Groves and other men he served with over for drinks on occasion, but a female guest in the house was rare if not unheard of. Rosalie's presence would send her into a flurry of excitement and anxiousness. He knew he had better get home quickly to prepare her. The old servant was bound to box his ears anyway for springing a dinner party on her so suddenly. The anticipated presence of a lady would only make her worse. He grinned wryly to himself.

As James continued up the lane towards his home, there was a new lightness in his steps that hadn't been present since long before his return to Port Royal.

A/N: Chapter eight should be out very soon since it is already nearly completed, so keep your eyes open! And as always, read and reveal!