Promises Kept
Elizabeth turned from her husband and headed towards the rocks. She cast him one final look and smiled, just before she stepped around them and out of view.
Will looked forlornly at the Chest nestled in the sand, and wondered how such a fine example of craftsmanship could become such a source of unparalled horror. He cautiously hefted the box by its ornate handles, once again surprised by how light it was. He turned a slow circle, surveying the surrounding landscape, searching for a place that would be both secure and out of sight, or at least, out of Elizabeth's sight. For that matter, he wouldn't exactly complain about it being out of his sight either, even though he was still a bit leery of allowing the accursed casket to be too far away from him—and rightly so. A short distance from where he stood was a chest high boulder, weather worn, with a roughly level surface that seemed to be a likely resting place. He could put it there, cover it with his coat, and Elizabeth would be none the wiser. He would still be able to see its now familiar outline in the darkness while she would think it no more than any other chunk of rock that littered the area. Once that rather troublesome task was accomplished, he returned to the campsite to wait – and worry.
Elizabeth spread Mr. Gibb's gift out on a nearby rock and then wiped her sweaty palms nervously on her coat. She had waited for this moment for nearly half of her life, and had freely told anyone who would listen how ready she was to be married, but the truth was that now that she and Will were married, she found herself both anxious and terrified about what should – would happen next. She took a deep breath and began to slowly undo the fastenings on her coat. Her fingers would not cooperate as she fumbled with the closures. Eventually, she managed to ungracefully undo the last of them. It did not escape her attention that something as simple as removing the richly embroidered coat relieved her of some of the physical and emotional burden she had been carrying. While she had quickly adapted to wearing the elaborate ensemble, the truth was it was both unbearably hot and extremely heavy—not to mention that it was now irreparably stained by both blood and water. And although it had served as her wedding attire, it also represented a war still to fight, a battle they had won, and a potentially devastating reversal of fortune for her and at what cost? Beautiful though it may be, it would never be something she cherished.
Will pace impatiently and nervously by the fire. He knew better than to rush Elizabeth, but he was anxious for her return. If for nothing else than it made him nervous for her not to be where he could see her. They had spent too many months not talking and had years of forced separation ahead of them. He did not want to waste a single second of the time they had left together. Will stole a glimpse at the now rumpled blanket where Elizabeth had slept earlier. He unconsciously chewed on his lower lip as he contemplated straightening out the blanket and perhaps even shaking the sand from it. If he were honest with himself he would admit that that also was making him anxious. No matter how much he wanted Elizabeth; there was still that tiny part of his conscience that questioned his own motivation. Clearly, it would be fairer to her if they had just gone their separate ways – him to the land of the dead where he rightfully belonged while she remained among the living. Perhaps she would eventually find someone else to build a life with like she truly deserves.
He shook his head, let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and crossed over to the rock bound alcove, reassuring himself that they had made this choice together and that there was no point in trying to second guess themselves now.
Elizabeth now stood wearing just the loose fitting black trousers and half shift – not much more than a shirt really—that she had worn under the coat. The off white shift was made of material nowhere near as fine as what she had been accustomed to in her former life as the spoiled only child of Jamaica's governor, but it was much nicer than some of what she had had to make do with in the past several months. The finery and comforts that formed such an integral part of her childhood and early adulthood were not much more than a fading memory now. Her current circumstances offered little hope that that would change anytime in the near future. There had been a time when the mere thought of such a loss would have distressed her greatly, but it paled in comparison to her current reality.
She was feeling much less fidgety now as she slowly unlaced and untucked the shift and pulled it over her head. The cool night breeze felt pleasant on her skin as she quickly dropped the shift into the sand, grabbed the dress and put it on. She looked down at her legs, still encased in the voluminous trousers, and wrinkled her nose and giggled nervously at how silly she looked with the panels of her dress spread over the excess fabric. This will never do.
Will flapped the blanket vigorously several times to rid it of the ubiquitous grains of sand that had already collected in the creases. He then draped the blanket over a nearby rock and began to meticulously smooth the ground underneath where the blanket had been; taking care to remove any pebbles or other debris he came across. He was well aware that his actions were born more of his need to distract himself than for any concern for their comfort. The accommodations, such as they were, were infinitely better than many of the places they had slept over the course of the past year – or at least where he had slept. Elizabeth had always been afforded what little privacy was available and therefore had an improvised cabin of sorts. I wonder if she knows that I slept outside her door?
When he was satisfied with his work, Will carefully smoothed the blanket's rough material over the now—level sand and sat down at its edge with his knees pulled up to his chest. He rested his chin in his hands and thought about how different this was from how he had imagined this night would be. It shouldn't matter so long as he and Elizabeth were together, but it did. She deserves better than this. Does she feel the same? Turning his head towards the direction Elizabeth had taken, stared into the darkness in a fruitless attempt to will her immediate return.
Elizabeth's hands began to tremble again as she worked at the buckle on the narrow belt that secured her breeches. She might have little to no use for the rules of propriety, but a deep sense of modesty had been ingrained into her personality almost from birth. It had unnerved her to expose her legs to the other pirates, and even Will, when they had been in Singapore – or at least it had until the fighting had started. Then she had been given little time to think of anything other than her own survival – and Will's. Always Will's. He was her reason for living and she regretted the time together they had wasted when they had lost their way.
The stiff leather finally slid free of the buckle. Elizabeth eased the waist of her breeches over her hips and slowly stepped out of them—these too she left lying in the sand. This time when she looked down she could not help but laugh. The undergarments she had been given to wear came almost to her knees – far lower than the upper range of the splits in the skirt of her dress. Somehow appearing before Will dressed like this did not strike her as very conducive towards what she had in mind. She could almost hear his laughter now, but it was either that or resort to the only other obvious solution.
Will had returned to his previous position, resting his head in his hands, when he first heard Elizabeth's bright laughter drift through the night air. He sat bolt upright and again gazed at the point where his wife had disappeared. Surely she would be back soon.
He suddenly, self consciously, felt as though his choice of seats made him appear too eager, but there was no denying it, he was eager. Hadn't that been a condition of their marriage? Rejecting what Elizabeth had so freely offered over the course of their engagement had easily been one of the most difficult things he had done. It didn't matter that he realistically had no choice in the matter. The anticipation of one day making love to her had occupied nearly his every waking moment. That had never changed no matter what the circumstances. The realization that that long awaited, and much anticipated, moment was now at hand made his mouth go dry.
The sudden sensation of thirst reminded him of the wine bottle and goblets he had found in one of the bundles. He got back to his feet, brushed himself off – taking care to not shed sand on the blanket—and went to investigate further. Knowing Jack, the bottle could contain most anything, but maybe even he had managed to make one small, but appropriate, contribution to their celebration.
No matter how deeply embedded Elizabeth's sense of modesty was, her sense of practicality always won out. And while patience was a virtue, it never had been for Elizabeth Swann. Becoming Elizabeth Turner hadn't changed anything in that aspect. That left but one solution to her dilemma. Without a second thought, the knee length drawers joined the rest of the clothing in the sand. Elizabeth smoothed the dress over her stomach and hips, fighting furiously to quell her discomfiture over her lack of appropriate foundation garments. She blushed furiously as the thought crossed her mind that she had no real intention of wearing any of it for very long anyway. In a vain attempt to distract herself from her temporary embarrassment, she gathered up the discarded clothing and began to neatly fold it.
Will picked up the wine bottle and held it to the firelight. The nearly opaque glass reflected the light, but did nothing to reveal the secret of what was inside. He could tell it had liquid in it, but exactly what type of liquid was anyone's guess. Considering its source, it may not even be a beverage. He determinedly pried the cork out and sniffed at it cautiously. It smelled like wine, but still, it was always best to err on the side of caution. He stuck a finger in the neck of the bottle and tipped it over and back. He took a hesitant taste of the liquid, in his quest to determine what it could possibly be, and was relieved to find that it was indeed, wine. Red wine at that, a very dark, nearly blood colored red. It was also much sweeter than the harsh, almost bitter wine he had experienced in younger days. And while it could not possibly be anywhere near the quality, nor as costly, as what Elizabeth's father had imported for their wedding, it would certainly do for a toast. Actually, anything would be better than something from Jack's indefatigable rum cache, thought Will, retrieving the pair of pewter goblets and carrying them to their makeshift bed.
Elizabeth removed a small pouch from the inner lining of the coat before she folded it. The tiny cloth bag was dirty, stained and threadbare, but it had served its purpose. She had fiercely guarded both the bag and its contents since the day she fled Port Royal. Elizabeth unwound the scrap of leather cording that held it shut and poured the contents out into her hand. The pendant with the single pearl and the tiny silver horseshoe glinted in the moonlight. The pearl, along with the chain it had been attached to, had been a wedding gift from her father. Elizabeth had immediately recognized it as having belonged to her long deceased mother. According to Weatherby, Josephine Swann had worn it on her own wedding day and had wanted her only daughter to do the same. The chain was long gone; having been traded to an itinerant sailor in exchange for the set of boy's clothing she had worn to facilitate her escape from Lord Beckett, his henchman, Mr. Mercer, and the rest of the East India Trading Company.
The miniature horseshoe had been a gift from Will. Traditionally, it was meant to bring good luck to a new bride if she wore one during the wedding. So she had asked him to make one for her. He had initially made a show of presenting her with a real horseshoe at first, but had gifted her with the intricately worked trinket the night before they were to be married. With the help of her seamstress, she had sewn it into the hem of her dress where it had stayed until her unplanned flight from the place she called home. As for the luck it was supposed to bring…it had worked, just not in the manner anyone would have expected. She put everything back in the bag, securely retied it, and buried it in the stack of clothes. She knew now what she wanted to do with both of them. All that was left was to make sure it was done.
Will carefully set the goblets and the bottle of wine down at the edge of the blanket and returned to the fire. He was becoming more restless by the minute. He stepped back from the fire, selected an appropriate sized piece of wood from the stack he had made earlier and began to poke at the flames. He admired his handiwork for a few moments, before tossing a few more chunks of wood into the blaze. He looked back in the direction Elizabeth had gone, sighed deeply and looked up at the stars. I can hardly last ten minutes without her. How can I endure ten years?
"What do you see?"
Will spun around at the sound of her soft voice and stared at Elizabeth. She stood not more than ten yards from him with her arms at her sides. She smiled at him timidly, but with a subdued sense of wariness in her eyes. Will was struck speechless at the sight of her. The dress, although beautiful, was nothing short of scandalous – or at least it would have been in Port Royal. Will certainly did not mind. His eyes strayed to her legs as the merest whisper of a breeze caused the skirt to flutter and reveal one pale thigh.
Elizabeth dropped her head, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy.
Will crossed to her, took her hands in his and leaned forward to kiss her. Elizabeth drew a deep breath, picking her head up and meeting him part way. With no contact other than their lips, locked in an easy kiss, and their fingers intertwined, the newly minted husband began to back up slowly, leading his new bride to their rustic bridal bower. Elizabeth followed somewhat complacently, as if still unsure that this was really happening.
Will stopped as soon as he felt the edge of the blanket under his feet. Elizabeth was clearly paying more attention to what she was doing than where she was going and collided with the solid mass that was her husband's chest.
Will broke off the kiss with a laugh. "You should watch where you're going."
"I know exactly where I was headed," Elizabeth retorted, grinning up at him and stretching her arms around his neck.
"Is that so?" Will returned her silly grin.
Elizabeth stood on her toes and gave him a quick peck on the lips. She then wrapped the fingers of her left hand under the strap of his baldric, lifted it over his head and tossed it aside. "Being as neither of us have a sword at the moment, I don't think this will be necessary."
"Are there any other unnecessary articles you wish to rid me of?" Will gave her a faint smile while the look in his eyes clearly gave her permission to continue with her current plan of attack.
"Perhaps," she teased, floating her open palms over the finely sculpted muscles of his chest to the wide leather belt she had tried to remove earlier. She looked down, struggling to remove the water soaked leather from the buckle.
Will casually draped his arms over her shoulders and gazed in amusement at her determined expression as she went about the business at hand. Will uttered a startled grunt as she inadvertently tightened the belt with her incessant tugging. He was on the verge of offering to complete the task himself when she finally managed to pull the belt free. It too was tossed away in the same general direction as the baldric.
Elizabeth tilted her face back up to Will's, her fingers skimming over his stomach to the knot in the sash he wore. Will closed his eyes, tilting his head back ever so slightly. Elizabeth smiled to herself as she noticed that his breathing, much like her own, was becoming shallower and more irregular with each passing second. She had long ago learned how to get her way by using her feminine wiles on the unsuspecting male members of the species, but it was a quite different feeling to know you could drive a man to distraction – even more empowering was the realization that she could do that to the one man who could do the same to her….and was.
The sash was unwound in short order and quickly discarded. Will leaned forward and rested his forehead on top of his wife's bowed head as she put her mind to untucking his shirt. He exhaled heavily as Elizabeth slipped her hands underneath the hem and eased them up and over the well muscled planes of his back.
"Will?" Elizabeth jerked her head up to look at him. Her voice reflected her shock as her fingers snapped back from Will's skin, as if she had been burned.
Will gave her a startled look, his brow creased in confusion, the understanding of what she had found, slowly dawning on him.
Elizabeth noticed that Will winced and almost imperceptibly shook his head as soon as she had said his name. She knew he had numerous scars, from the fresh one over his heart to the one on his left palm that matched her own, but she hadn't known about these. They had not been there when he left her in Port Royal. So where had they come from?
"Will?" she questioned him again, this time managing to control the distress in her voice. "Where did you get these? How long have you had them?" She lightly passed her fingertips over them, appalled at the extent of the scars that she still had not seen. A knot formed in her stomach, at the realization that she would have most likely long since known of their origin had it not been for her poorly thought out decision to not confide in Will after the flight from the Black Pearl and theKraken.
"Not now. Later, I swear to you, but not now." He hesitated. "I can't. Please?" he begged. He couldn't bring himself to look at her.
Elizabeth dropped her hands to his waist and rested her cheek on his chest. "I'm sorry." Her voice broke slightly. "I didn't know."
"It's all right," he whispered softly, stroking her hair – one arm wrapped tightly around her. "I should have told you."
Elizabeth nodded as her eyes strayed to one side to rest on the wine bottle and goblets resting in the sand. "What are those?" She had a vague memory of seeing them amidst the items scattered around the fire, but hadn't given them much thought.
"I think it might be a gift from Jack," Will replied, releasing Elizabeth and bending to retrieve the bottle and both goblets.
"It's not rum, is it?" Elizabeth sounded disgusted at the thought of being provided with a full bottle, of what she considered to be a most vile drink, as a wedding gift.
Will snorted with laughter. "No, I'm sure it really is wine. I tasted it," he said, passing the goblets to Elizabeth and again beginning to work the cork out of the neck of the bottle. He then poured the translucent, garnet-colored liquid into each goblet, set the bottle securely back in the sand and took one of the goblets from his bride.
Elizabeth reached forward and wrapped her arm around Will's. "I think we're supposed to drink a toast to each other like this although it does seem all together awkward."
"Aren't we supposed to say something?" Will asked. "I want to do this right."
"I think that's somebody else's responsibility. We're not supposed to do anything other than to focus on each other," Elizabeth answered, staring into Will's eyes. "And if that's not the way it is, then it's the way it should be."
"That sounds like an appropriate sentiment given the circumstances."Will stepped in closer still as they both tried to sip the wine from the goblets. The results were sloppy at best, with the dark red liquid sloshing over the sides of the goblets and running down their arms. Both of them began to giggle at the mess they were making.
"Perhaps," Elizabeth said, "the reason people toast with champagne is to make the spills less noticeable?"
"That's as good an explanation as any," Will said, before quietly removing the goblet from Elizabeth's hand. He set both vessels in the sand next to the bottle where they immediately tipped over and drained their contents, leaving what looked remarkably like a blood stain on the formerly pristine sand.
As soon as her hands were free, Elizabeth wrapped her hands around her husband's waist and rested her cheek against his chest, all the while mourning the fact that she couldn't hear the safe, strong sound of his heart beating there. They stood that way for a long moment before Elizabeth began to feather her fingers along Will's sides, pulling the burgundy tunic he wore along with them. She stopped abruptly, pushed back, and flattened out her hands as she felt Will convulse and try to pull away from her. She cocked her head, narrowed her eyes and regarded him curiously, trying to discern what had caused his unanticipated reaction.
"Don't do that," he managed to choke out.
A devilish grin formed on Elizabeth's lips. "Why, Will Turner, you're not ticklish, are you?" She commenced to test her theory in earnest.
Will tried in vain to wriggle away from her, failing though he tried to push her away. Elizabeth was not to be deterred; she pursued her target with intense concentration and began laughing herself at Will's unexpected child-like giggles. Their mutual struggle for control of the situation increased until Will inadvertently got his feet tangled in the disremembered sash and fell forward, taking his wife along with him.
They fell hard. Elizabeth squealed in surprise, landing heavily on top of her. He tried to push himself up, but Elizabeth pulled him back down to her. They both laughed uncontrollably, continuing to tease and tickle each other, wrestling about on the blanket, until they were both quite out of breath.
Will managed to gain control of the situation, managing to grasp Elizabeth's wrists with his hands and pin them to the ground as he rolled her over on her back. He pushed himself up as far as he could without releasing her hands and allowed his head to drop forward, trying to catch his breath. Elizabeth began to squirm beneath him in an attempt to escape, but he kept one powerful thigh firmly compressed on either side of her body to prevent her from regaining control.
"Elizabeth," he groaned, shifting his weight slightly.
Elizabeth smiled knowingly at him, trying to lift her face to his. There was no disguising the source of his current discomfort, as it were. Will released her wrists and leaned down to kiss her. Her open mouth met his as she put her hands on either side of his head to push off the green bandana that he now wore. Will broke off the kiss and sat back up, still straddling his wife. He reached down, crossed his arms, pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side. Elizabeth gazed up at him, reaching out to touch the scar on his chest. Will gently put his hand over hers as she traced the angry red welt that marred his chest.
"Don't," he whispered, noticing the sheen of tears in her deep brown eyes. "It doesn't change anything for us." He bent back down and softly kissed her eyelids. Elizabeth sighed softly as her hands made their way around to his back to softly caress it and the still unseen scars. She could feel the tense muscles start to relax. She smiled to herself as she threw all of her weight from her right shoulder, catching Will off guard and flipping him over on his back. She put her hands triumphantly on her hips, sitting astride her husband and laughing.
"I believe you violated the rules of engagement," he said, but made no attempt to dislodge her.
"I didn't know there were rules for a situation like this." She put one hand on each side of his head as she bent forward, causing the scooped neckline of her dress to gape open.
Will's eyes drifted down from her face to admire certain portions of his wife's anatomy.
"Will Turner! Has no one ever told you that it is impolite, not to mention improper, to peer down a lady's décolletage?" Elizabeth did her best impression of an upper crust accent.
"I'm afraid I don't know that particular word," he responded as he reached up and gently brushed his fingers across one breast.
Elizabeth mockingly rolled her eyes at him. "It means you're looking down my dress."
"Yes, ma'am. I am."
"Shall I have to find someone to defend my honor and instill in you a sense of decency?" She tried to sound demanding, but failed miserably. The teasing quality of her voice was far too strong.
Will relocated his hands to her thighs and began to slide them up past her hips and beyond. "I'm going to take that as nothing but an idle threat what with it coming from a woman not wearing any undergarments at the moment." His voice was rough with desire, his breathing once again becoming shallow.
Elizabeth looked at him seriously, raising her arms over her head so as to assist her husband's undressing of her. She blushed furiously as the dress came off and the warm night air flowed over her bare skin. Her arms twitched reflexively in an effort to cover herself, but Will took her hands and held them still. Elizabeth closed her eyes and kept them tightly shut. No matter how much she had wanted this; there was still the element of awkwardness and embarrassment to overcome. A lifelong habit of modesty wasn't the easiest thing to overcome on a moment's notice.
"Elizabeth. Look at me."
She drew a deep breath and complied with Will's request. She was breathing harder now, in a combination of panic, anticipation, and desire.
Will let go of her hands and grazed his fingers over her body. "You're beautiful."
Elizabeth smiled faintly back at him. She took another deep breath in another vain effort to calm her racing heart. She felt as if every fiber of her body was on fire. Liquid heat flowed in her veins; every inch of her skin was sensitive to the touch. It's time. She lowered herself to rest against Will's body, savoring the sensations caused by the friction of their bare skin brushing together.
Will wrapped his arms around her and again took possession of her mouth. Her lips parted immediately. She moaned faintly at the feel of his tongue brushing against hers and the still lingering taste of the wine they had drunk. He tenderly rolled her over onto her back and covered her body with his. Elizabeth was only vaguely aware of his weight bearing down on her, pushing her body into the soft sand. Their kiss deepened, their inquisitive exploration of each other's mouths mimicking the much more intimate act yet to come. Will broke away from her lips and traced a line of fiery, wet kisses down her chin, to her neck and to the curve of her breasts. Elizabeth arched towards him, her breathing deteriorating to not much more than panting. Her fingers clutched at the blanket and dug into the sand, as Will continued his descent to her stomach and beyond.
Elizabeth whimpered helplessly when he rocked back on his heels and stood up. She watched him expectantly as he unfastened his breeches, pushed them over his slim hips and stepped out of them. Elizabeth knew she had been sheltered. She had never before seen a naked man, and had entirely expected to be slightly embarrassed by it, but oddly enough, she wasn't. It seemed entirely natural and right to have Will standing before her like this. There was no doubt that they shared a common goal with equal urgency. Elizabeth reached up a hand to him imploring him to return to her.
Will dropped to his knees and resumed kissing and caressing his wife's body.
"Please. Now," Elizabeth managed to murmur between rasping breathes.
"Anything." He kissed her forehead. "Everything." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Just as I promised," he murmured as their lips met.
