Francis looked at the man seething in fury in front of him.
He really was most interesting, he thought. Most of the people Francis captured were much too scared to stand up to him, or even say anything at all, yet this Kirkland was entirely unafraid.
"Did you hear me? Because I absolutely will." Those green eyes blazed fiercely, and Francis could see pure determination burning within.
He snapped out of his train of thoughts. "Will what, mon cher?"
Kirkland glowered at him. "Either you let me go, or so help me I will kill you in your sleep."
Francis laughed. It had been so long since anyone spoke to him like this; it was exhilarating. "You can try. I sleep lightly, and armed. When you fail, maybe I will let you off my ship. Or maybe I'll allow you a less painful death..." He said musingly.
Alarm flickered briefly across Kirkland's face, but it was barely perceptible before his expression became blank again. He stepped closer to Francis so that they were inches apart, and looked at him evenly. "You'll be dead before you can shout for help."
Francis was about to respond when he saw Kirkland's lips quirk in a tiny smile of triumph. That tiny rustling he'd heard - Francis had presumed it was the wind. But what if…?
He quickly caught Kirkland's wrist. In his hand was one of Francis' daggers. Kirkland matched his gaze unrepentantly, and Francis felt a thrill of excitement.
He pinned Kirkland against the side of the ship, holding his wrists so that he couldn't fight back. "Considering the situation, mon cher, that was a rash move. After all, I am a pirate."
Kirkland tried to shift away, but Francis just leaned closer. Their faces were scant inches apart.
The wind blew Kirkland's sandy hair into his eyes, and the smaller man blinked in irritation.
"I can have you killed in a heartbeat," Francis murmured, reaching up to brush back Kirkland's windswept hair, the movement so gentle it was almost a caress. His hand hovered at his captive's cheek.
He felt Kirkland shiver slightly, yet those green eyes still looked back at him undaunted.
And at that moment, he realised there was no way he could ever hurt this man.
When Bonnefoy stepped back, Arthur let out a shaky breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.
There was something about the pirate, something that had Arthur completely captivated. Even if he had successfully stolen the dagger, would he have been able to kill Bonnefoy?
He shook his head to clear himself of the thought.
Bonnefoy looked at him steadily, then held out the dagger.
Arthur stared at it in surprise.
"You can have the knife."
"Why?"
Bonnefoy grinned, baring white teeth.
"Because, mon cher, how else do you plan on killing me? We have just seen that I am stronger than you. Even with this blade, I doubt you will be able to attack successfully."
Arthur scowled but couldn't argue. When the French bastard had pinned him just now, he'd been unable to escape the other's firm grip - and considering how gentle Francis' hands had been, that almost certainly wasn't even his full strength.
He took the dagger and shoved it in his pocket. He wasn't going to humiliate himself by attacking right now, when the pirate was ready and waiting.
But tonight, he would take his chance.
Tonight, he would prove Bonnefoy wrong.
Arthur turned the handle as silently as he could and slipped in, treading lightly and skirting close to the walls where the floorboards would be less likely to creak.
Bonnefoy was still snoring softly when he reached the bed - Arthur hadn't made much noise, and of course being a pirate he was used to sleeping through the wind and waves.
He paused, looking down at Bonnefoy. A surge of unexpected emotion welled up inside of him.
When he was asleep, and that ever-present smirk was no longer there, Bonnefoy almost looked -
Arthur shook his head firmly, refusing to let his thoughts continue along that track. He reached into his pocket and took out the dagger. The moonlight glanced wickedly off its blade as he raised it and…
And hesitated.
He didn't want to kill Bonnefoy.
Besides, if he murdered Bonnefoy now, it would be dishonourable. Even if this was a pirate, a villain who didn't deserve his clemency - attacking a man in his sleep was low. Arthur wasn't going to sink to their level.
The pirate's eyes flew open.
Shit.
Before he could react, Bonnefoy yanked Arthur fiercely towards him, causing him to stumble and fall onto the bed. The pirate whirled round and pushed him down, sitting on Arthur's hips before he could do much more than raise his dagger.
They were at a stalemate - the tip of Bonnefoy's knife was pressed to Arthur's throat, but Arthur's blade rested over the pirate's heart.
Bonnefoy smirked. "Very good, mon cher. Just a little faster, and you would have been free."
Arthur scowled, berating himself for his hesitation. He lowered the dagger. "Fine. You win. Do what you will. But I won't die on this ship - I'll walk the plank, or whatever you pirates do."
Bonnefoy reached behind Arthur and returned his own knife to its hiding place beneath the pillow.
Bonnefoy looked at him, blue eyes predatory. "And if I choose to keep you?" He purred. He leant forwards, teeth gently teasing Arthur's ear.
Arthur swallowed, throat suddenly dry. "I'd kill myself before becoming your toy," he spat.
"You'll take back those words soon enough," Bonnefoy replied, and he kissed Arthur's neck softly. Arthur bit his lip hard to hold back a moan, and the pain brought him to his senses.
"No, I never will. Now let go of me!" He snarled.
Bonnefoy smiled and stood gracefully, holding out a hand to Arthur. He ignored the gesture and got up on his own.
"On that other ship, the Mary Rose. What was your position?"
"Carpenter."
"D'accord. What experience do you have?"
"Why should I tell you?"
Bonnefoy smirked. "Then I'm guessing none? I knew you weren't twenty-one." He tutted. "You shouldn't lie, mon cher."
Arthur sighed inwardly. There really was no point arguing with this man. "I worked as a shipbuilder and repairer at a port back in London. But this is my first time at sea."
Bonnefoy laughed. "First time, and you already ran into pirates? Mon cher, you have bad luck."
Arthur glared at him balefully.
"Alors. We have need of a skilled carpenter on board - unfortunately, it is more important that we have a carpenter than that I have a pet."
"And if I don't want to help you?"
Bonnefoy shrugged. "So far, the assistant carpenter has been coping pretty well with repairs. But in any case, I won't let you escape, mon cher. You are very… Intriguing. It would be a waste if you were to die."
For a moment, Arthur could only stare at Bonnefoy in horror, those few words reverberating through him with terrible finality. I won't let you escape.
There was no way out.
Arthur's anger flared up, pouring words out of him in a torrent of fury. "You can keep me alive. But you can't make me do anything more, and I absolutely refuse to help you or your shipmates in any way. If your ship is damaged and the assistant carpenter can't fix it, I won't help, even if it means I go down with you."
Bonnefoy grinned. "Good night, mon cher."
Arthur didn't reply. Furious, he turned and stalked out.
Francis lay back, resting his head on his arms.
He was torn between triumph and regret. On the one hand, Kirkland was to stay on the Achéron indefinitely, but on the other, he was almost sure that he had permanently lost what little goodwill Arthur may have borne him.
He thought back over the past few minutes.
Kirkland had been more skilled than he'd expected. He wasn't as strong as Francis, but he was quiet, and Francis knew that his waking when he had was more down to his good fortune than a mistake on Kirkland's part.
If Kirkland tried again, he might not be so lucky.
Francis sighed.
He would chance it. He was worried that if he took away too much of Kirkland's freedom, he'd become like all the others - respecting him, never challenging his authority. Which, as captain, was necessary, but so frustrating sometimes.
True, he'd always have Antonio. They'd been friends since the Spaniard arrived in France as a young boy, and Antonio knew him better than almost anyone. Francis trusted him and was trusted by him. But there was something about Kirkland…
Francis closed his eyes and concentrated on the soothing motion of the ship. He'd worry about this later.