Chapter Six
"Ye keep runnin', but I just keep findin' ye."
Miranda looked up from from her cell at Barbossa, standing at the top of the steps. Her escape had been in vain, for she was back in the same cell she'd been locked in less than twenty-four hours prior.
"I can't run anymore," she confessed through gritted teeth. The truth stung sharply in her heart. The Pearl had once again set sail, but even if it were still aground, her legs were in far too much pain to move, let alone walk. She'd bound the burns tightly with the majority of her underskirt; a sight Barbossa didn't let go to waste.
"I must say the view is considerable improvement." He descended the stairs but did not advance farther.
"Go to hell." The words sounded harsh on Miranda's tongue. She'd never sworn before. Barbossa laughed.
"Miss Farthin', I'm already there, but I appreciate ye comin' out of yer shell fer me like that," he assured her, taking a few steps closer.
Miranda curled up tighter in the corner. Part of her wanted to replay her previous encounter with the captain, but the rest of her (the reasonable side) did not want to tempt disaster. It seemed to be doing a decent job without her provocation.
Barbossa unhooked a loop of keys from his belt and unlocked her cell door. He swung it open and looked hard at her. Seconds passed, and Miranda couldn't find the courage to stand and face the pain in her legs.
"Ye really can't walk, can ye?" Barbossa commented rhetorically
"Why did you save me?" Miranda asked suddenly, taking her mind off certain thoughts a lady wouldn't entertain. A growling laugh slipped from Barbossa's throat, setting Miranda at definite unease.
"Yer my green apple, Miss Farthin'. Good day." He turned to the stairs, but Miranda--thoroughly confused but not yet ready to end the interview--called, "Did you have any luck?"
"Beg pardon?"
"You killed all those people-"
"People!" Barbossa laughed. "People don't eat people, missy. Kill, rob, rape, destroy: yes. But why be ye so keen on them? They were minutes from havin' ye with a side of cantalope."
"You didn't kill them for me," Miranda stated.
"Maybe I did?"
"No. You didn't."
Barbossa smiled in amusement. "Yer right. I didn't. But our killin' weren't fer naught, don't ye worry."
"How many did you find?" Miranda repeated her question. Barbossa withdrew a coin purse from his pocket and glanced in.
"Five."
"May I-"
"No. Tis nothin' personal, my dear. I simply don't trust ye."
"I have a question for you." Miranda carefully watched Barbossa and he slipped the coin purse back into his pocket and approach her.
"I am a busy man, Miss Farthin'. Make it quick."
"When you collect enough of those coins, will they buy you enough to justify murder? Will it be worth the ships you sank, the towns you burned, the families you destroyed, and the people you killed?"
Barbossa's eyes roved up and down Miranda's body, and he smiled. "Aye. Ye forget we be but humble pirates. No morales and instant gratification motivates us. If killin' was in order to get a nicer bed, I'd not hesitate a moment."
A sudden image of Quentin blinded Miranda's eyes. His life was sacrificed for what? For an anonymous pirate to afford one more harlot? Righteous fury coursed through her veins, and she jumped to her feet without thinking.
"You!" she screamed in hatred. Her scream was swiftly followed by a second as the pain in her legs wracked her body. Her hands, which had been flung forward aimed at the captain's throat, now clawed for support. She fell heavily against Barbossa, who stumbled back in surprise from both her reaction and the sudden force of her collapse.
Her arms wrapped around Barbossa's neck, Miranda began sobbing from physical pain and mental anguish. The pirate recovered quickly, disentangling her arms from him, and he caught her fall with one hand wrapped around her neck. Miranda's sobs became chokes as he propelled her back into the cell and slammed her body against the wall.
His face inches from hers, he cocked his head to the side and smirked. "Miss Farthin'," he began quietly, "passion becomes ye." His grip had loosened considerably, and Miranda's toes touched the sopping wooden floor. She leaned against the angled wall and drew one hand up to Barbossa's neck. With a strength she didn't know she still possessed, she pulled his head towards her and closed the final inches between his lips and hers.
His participation in the kiss was immediate, but Miranda took her time. She traced her tongue over his lips but coyly shut her mouth the first few times his tried to follow. After several minutes of teasing she finally parted her lips and let his tongue explore the interior of her mouth. His hands deftly skimmed her body, pausing here and there to rest before continuing on, and she let her hand rest on his belt, finding the object for which she'd been looking.
Hardening her resolve, she leapt into action. She bit his lip. Hard. She then jerked her body to the side and slammed Barbossa's head into the wall while leaping towards the opened door of the cell. Bolts of pain shot through her legs as she moved, but she had no time to react. To her surprise, the pirate collected himself faster than any other man could have done, and was at the door before she'd managed to lock it shut. Hitting it open again, he struck Miranda broadside of the head and she crumpled to the floor.
"Tis no use seducin' a cursed man, missy," he chided, grabbing her by one arm and throwing her effortlessly back into the cell.
"Ne'ertheless," he continued, grinding the key in the lock to emphasize her captivity, "yer actions won't be forgotten."