Disclaimer. The mouse owns it all. Sadly, I own nothing except Ben.
Warning!! Smut ahead!! Do not read if of a sensitive nature!
Petal Of A Rose
Chapter Six – A Proposition
She'd had incredible dreams. True, she'd had only a few hours sleep, but she saw no reason to complain. In fact, Elizabeth had woken early, feeling wonderful, unlike the rest of the crew who were staggering about, clutching stomachs and heads, wincing in the morning sunlight.
She was, she decided, one of the luckiest women in the world. She lived on a pirate ship, and had just embarked on a new and exciting career. She was young and in love. And, unless her female intuition was faulty, she was very close to convincing the man she loved that he loved her right back!
Every part of her plan was falling into place.
Throughout the day, the crew worked on. They were sailing for Shipwreck Cove as Jack was sure to make a healthy profit on the cargo and Elizabeth, as Pirate King, had business to attend to. It had been agreed with the Keeper of the Code before she left after the battle with Beckett, that she would attend to her duties periodically, and Jack had agreed to this when she joined his crew.
Even out at sea the heat was punishing. Had it not been for the breeze, Elizabeth, not weathered as the men, didn't think that she would have been able to do any more than sit in the shade. Jack had been on deck, briefly, but was now in the hold working out the profit on the cargo and had said he would be some time. 'Probably drinking it again!' thought Elizabeth darkly.
She was boiling. Even the experienced members of the crew were wilting under the hot and humid conditions. The sun had dipped in the sky but the air was close and sticky. 'I'd give anything for a bath.,' she thought, 'to feel clean and fresh.' Her last bath had been in the bath house in Tortuga. Most of the crew just didn't bother, but to her, brought up as a Governors' Daughter, it had always been important to be clean. Her shift was virtually over – her time her own. 'I wonder…' she thought.
Half an hour later, she was waiting for warm water to be brought to her. She had spoken to Gibbs, who had spoken to the cook, and between them they had found an old tin bath. The cook was heating water for her. Two of the crew had put the bath in an old storeroom next to Jack's cabin, that was occasionally used as an overflow food store, but was now virtually empty. Best of all, it had a lock on the door!
She had gone through her things and found an old towel to use and was now eagerly awaiting the arrival of her water. Gibbs appeared with the two crewmen carrying buckets of steaming hot seawater, which they emptied into the bath.
"Let me know when you have finished," said Gibbs, "and I'll get the men to empty it."
Elizabeth started to thank him but he held his hands up.
"Just enjoy." He said. "Remember to lock the door behind us."
She followed him to the door, shut it, and turned the key, leaving it in the lock so that no errant eyes could look through the keyhole.
She began to undress. She felt bone weary and her emotions were in turmoil. Jack filled her thoughts day and night but seemed determined that they would only ever remain friends. Didn't he understand that she wanted more? With her up-bringing, she mused, she had no idea of what it was like to be possessed, truly possessed by a man, but surely, it couldn't be that difficult. The previous night, after leaving Jack on deck, she had made her plans. She would push him until he couldn't say no. She grinned as she tried to imagine what would happen. He would saturate her with the force of his passion and then he would never be free of her. If only she knew exactly what it would be like and what would be expected of her, she knew, she wouldn't feel like an inexperienced fool.
Sighing, she finished undressing, wound her hair on top of her head and stepped into her bath. The heat of the water soothed her. She could hear faint sounds from out on deck as the rest of the crew made ready for the night watch…and other, muffled but closer noises, soft whistling, the chink of a belt buckle. Her eyes grew wide with alarm and she sat up in the bath, water spilling over the sides. She turned her head and noticed a small door towards the back of the room. A connecting door to Jack's cabin!
Of course, a gentleman wouldn't even consider opening that door, but Jack was no gentleman…he was a pirate. She knew the delight he would take in feasting his eyes on her as she was now. She hissed a little swear word under her breath and eased her body from the tub, but the water still slapped the sides. All sounds from Jack's cabin ceased. Quickly, she stepped from the tub and wrapped the towel around herself, just as Jack pushed open the door.
Elizabeth froze. He stood with one shoulder propped against the door frame, his arms crossed over his wide chest. The fiery colours of the fading sun poured in through the windows behind him. He wore nothing more than breeches, and the top two buttons were un-done. A line of silky hair funnelled down beneath the buttons, down to where the long, thick bulge of his full arousal strained against his breeches. The heart-pounding sight begged for the touch of her fingers.
"I told ye before I couldn't hide that I want ye." His voice was raw, incredibly arousing.
She shivered, and lifted her gaze to his. He looked at her with such hunger she felt that her skin was on fire. His eyes – she had never confronted such eyes. They touched hers with a shimmering need, and little tremors shuddered in her belly. His gaze scorched her as it made a slow trail down her body, touching everywhere, all the way down to her bare, curling toes.
He said one word. "Don't."
Unable to move, she gazed quizzically at him.
"Do not," Jack explained, his voice dropping even deeper, "hide your body from me."
'She's stunningly beautiful.' Jack thought. With her hair like a cloud atop her head and a blush staining her face and shoulders.
A powerful hunger roared through him and he realised that Elizabeth would be the only woman who would ever brand him with 'her mark', her irresistible, haunting essence. The thought twisted his belly. He did not want to think of the future. He was selfish and hungry. His body – no – he wanted her – needed her. Now!
"Drop the towel, luv."
She shook her head, panic beginning to set in, clutching the towel tighter between her breasts. 'What the hell am I doing?' She thought. 'I can't do this. I must have been crazy.'
"I will not!" She said shakily, lifting her quivering chin. "And I will certainly not play slave for you, Jack!"
"'m not askin' ye to play slave, luv." He said softly. "No-one, not even me, could be yer master…'cept p'raps –" his gaze dropped to the valley between her breasts, "- in bed."
Elizabeth wanted to flee. She wished her plan to the bottom of the ocean. She was scared. Scared of the heat, the spiralling emotion and the shaming want. She lifted her chin higher.
"Your arrogance astounds me."
He smiled. "Arrogance? Hardly! Just fact…and I intend to prove it!"
He eased away from the doorframe and began to walk toward her. She tightened her grip on the towel. "Jack.." She whispered. "Stop!"
He towered over her, shadowing her. The light danced over his hard cheekbones, his chiselled lips, the bold, strong nose. He lifted a hand and stroked one finger down her body, from the hollow in her throat to between her breasts, beneath the towel. She felt a rush of arousal so intense it was painful, scalding her blood. He caressed the inner curves of her breasts with a lazy, errant finger and she felt herself harden.
"Drop the towel." He murmured. She shook her head again, and he and he hooked his finger over the towel and tugged.
She bolted toward the door. She had her hand on the latch when he reached her, capturing her with his hard body, pinning her against the door.
"'Lizzie," he whispered as she tried to shove back, tried to push him off her, "I need ye so badly. I need to touch ye."
Elizabeth started to shake. What little courage she had left deserted her. She couldn't do this. She was way out of her depth – and drowning.
Her plan lay in tatters. He had abandoned all hope of then being just 'friends'. She had won. It was a hollow victory.
She closed her eyes against the sudden moisture and felt a lonely tear fall from her eye and slowly trickle down her cheek. This wasn't what she wanted she suddenly realised. \she didn't want this battle of emotions, was too frightened of the unknown to offer herself to him.
She couldn't bear to see the disgust in his eyes when he realised that she knew nothing – hadn't the first clue about the age old dance. She was a coward. A failure.
Jack reached round and, gently, took her chin in his hand. Feeling moisture, he tilted her face toward him. She lowered her eyes, trying desperately to hide the defeat in their depths.
"Darlin'…what is it?"
Elizabeth turned, her back against the door. Anger began to replace the pain as she lifted her eyes to his. She realised, with a sudden stunning clarity, that she wanted more than a night with him. More than his attention when he desired her.
"I will not be a kept woman!"
"I don't want to 'keep' ye, luv."
"No! You only want to use me!"
His eyes softened. He felt himself deflate. "Is that what ye think, darlin'?"
His throat tightened as emotion shook him with its force. Had he always loved her? All those years at sea when he'd strolled foreign lands, lost himself in the arms of countless women, an animal on the prowl, fighting a gnawing restlessness, an overwhelming loneliness. Until he found her.
He shook. Jack had very rarely been afraid of anything in his life. Now he was terrified. The need for her invaded his senses. He realised he had never truly loved a woman before, but his love for her was inescapable.
He didn't know how to say the words, didn't know how to tell her, was petrified of her response.
He took both of her trembling hands in his.
"Marry me, 'Lizzie." He said.
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For all you sensitive souls out there the smut gets worse from here on in.
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