As Elizabeth sat in a dimly lit tavern in Antigua, painted and dressed in what used to be her typical stuffy attire, she bravely winked at a British officer that was well on his way to a rough morning. Initially, he'd come in with three other men, but over the last hour or so, they'd left one by one, each having chosen a woman for the night. From where she sat at the bar, she offered him a small smile and another sly wink in an effort to catch his attention before turning away from him to wait and see if he'd take her bait.

A couple minutes later, from the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw the officer leave his table and walk towards her, eventually sitting beside her at the bar. Here goes, she thought, uncrossing and recrossing her legs, her foot nearly touching his shin.

"May I buy you a drink?"

Elizabeth sized him up since he was closer and she could see him better. He looked to be in his thirties, and she was certain that he was some sort of officer or sergeant because of the coatee that he wore. His skin was fair, and his eyes were a grayish-green color. His high cheekbones balanced out his elegant Roman nose and square jaw; he was more handsome than she'd originally thought. Her eyes dropped to his well-defined, shapely lips, and she found herself anticipating what his kiss would be like.

You already have two men to deal with, she reminded herself. This one is nothing more than a tool. It doesn't matter what his kiss would be like.

"Yes, you may buy me a drink," Elizabeth finally answered with a flirty smile, making sure her accent was crisp and proper as she'd lost some of it the last few years.

Telling the barkeep to bring another of whatever she had, he asked, "Do you live here?"

Elizabeth purposely touched his leg with just the toe of her dangling foot. "I work here," she answered, giving him one more quick wink to make sure that he knew what she meant. "What's your name?"

"Peter," he answered, glancing down at her foot that was gently rubbing against his leg and then back up to her eyes. "What's yours?"

"Does it matter?" she quipped, taking a sip of her new drink that the barkeep had set in front of her, peering at him over the rim of the glass. "You can call me Annabelle, if you'd like."

"Annabelle," he repeated with a nod and a broad smile that reached his eyes. "The name is almost as beautiful as the lady."

"Why, Peter, you flatter me," she said playfully, batting her eyes as she reached over to run her fingertips along the wide lapel of his red coat. "So tell me, what are you doing here in Antigua? You're obviously far from home."

After another sip of the liquor that he really didn't need, Peter said proudly, "I'm part of a crew – part of many crews from many ships, actually – that have sailed from England to claim the Colonies as ours. We're meeting up in this port with other ships to head out in larger groups for attack."

"Is that so?" she asked. "Need more men, do you?"

"The Colonies have taken to hiring pirates to help them fight, if you can believe such an abominable thing," he said with a shake of his head. "And they won't fight fairly; they've been banding together against our ships giving them the advantage. We don't like it, but we've decided that we'll have to stoop to their level and fight like they do."

"I see," she said with a nod, thankful that he'd had enough to drink to be loose lipped with some information. "Will you be leaving in the next day or so then?"

He smiled nervously, looking around as if someone might be listening to him. "I shouldn't really – I'm not supposed to give out any – "

"Now Peter," Elizabeth cooed, running a finger along the top of his arm that rested on the edge of the bar. "Do I look like I'd go running off to a ghastly pirate ship to divulge all of your military secrets?"

He laughed then, his eyes looking her up and down. "No, you sure don't, Annabelle."

"Tell me," she pleaded, leaning closer to him. "I'm so very curious about all of that naval bit. You know, us women are never told all the really interesting news. It sounds exciting."

Glancing around again, Peter said, "Well, we've got about thirty ships leaving here in eight days to head north. It's rumored that the pirates prefer to gather in the Atlantic northeast of the Bahamas, so we're hoping to catch many of them there."

"Oh! Sounds dangerous!" she exclaimed, feigning worry.

"It probably will be, but we're prepared," he replied with confidence, taking another sip of his drink.

"Do you have extra artillery?"

Peter nodded. "All of the ships have double the man power and fire power," he answered, boldly reaching to caress the top of her hand holding her drink. "But enough of all that talk about fighting; I'd much rather talk about you. How did you end up here? You're a long way from home, as well."

"That's true; I am," she agreed and then looked around the bar before leaning over and allowing her lips to graze his ear as she spoke. "You know, I think maybe we should find a less noisy place to continue our conversation."

When his eyes met hers, she knew it would take no more coercion on her part, and she was thankful. She wanted to get their night over with.

Peter quickly placed some coins by their drinks and stood, proffering his arm to her. "You know, Annabelle, I do believe you're correct. Shall we?"

As Elizabeth walked with Peter, she wondered how far she should take their encounter. She'd gained helpful information from him already, but she thought that perhaps she could coax a bit more from him. That coaxing, however, would require them to be in more intimate situations. While it wasn't something she was completely excited about doing, she also couldn't ignore that Peter was quite attractive.

The more information that you can get, the better your chances are, she reminded herself. Get what you can from him in whatever way you can. The cause is more important than the sacrifice. Even Hector had said 'in any way necessary'.

"There's a slight chill in the air tonight," Elizabeth told Peter, walking closer to him, purposely pressing her breasts against his arm that hers was linked with. "Perhaps you could walk me to my apartment; if you don't mind, that is."

"Of course I don't mind. Lead the way."

"Would you like a drink?" Elizabeth asked after she closed the door behind them. She'd bought a bottle of rum just in case she'd need it.

Peter stepped close to her, boldly placing his hands on her hips. "I'm more in the mood for something else," he answered, his eyes hungrily roaming over her body. "Maybe you should tell me more about your work."

Looking up into his eyes, Elizabeth felt a surprising flutter in her stomach. His manner was gentle, and his voice was quiet. She'd honestly enjoyed talking with him, and her attraction to him caught her off guard. She'd anticipated finding some drunken officer that wasn't much to look at and having anything but a pleasant evening. "You have coins, I assume?" she asked directly.

"I do," he assured her.

"Then I'm sure we can reach an accord," Elizabeth whispered, allowing the pirate within her to come out and play. She'd never see him again, anyway. Why not have a little fun, she thought to herself, slipping her arms around his neck and submitting to her selfish desire as she pulled him to her. When his mouth pressed to hers, she was the one to deepen the union.

"There's no need for propriety here," she whispered in encouragement. "You don't need to hold yourself back. We're not in England anymore."

Their eyes met again, and she saw his restraint slip away by the look of relief on his chiseled face. "And for once, I'm thankful I'm not," he said, his voice a quiet growl. He picked her up, walked over to the small bed and placed her on it, quickly joining her.

Elizabeth welcomed him eagerly.

The next morning as Elizabeth dressed, she felt no remorse for her activities the night before. She'd gathered even more information from Peter in between their frantic sexual interludes – which had been much more enjoyable than she thought they'd be – and she couldn't wait to tell Hector all that she'd learned. They would need to be smart about how they fought the British; they'd caught on to the strategies the pirates had started using and were adjusting quickly. It could spell disaster if they weren't careful.

Packing away her beautiful gown and accoutrements, Elizabeth made sure that she looked as boyish as possible, just like she'd done when stowing away to Tortuga. It wasn't difficult; it was harder for her to dress up than to dress down. While she'd once loved the ostentatiousness of her wardrobe, she had no interest in it any longer.

The money from Peter would help her get back to Tortuga, and she tucked that away safely on her person. After gathering the last of her things, she quickly left the hotel and headed for the docks with her head held high.

Almost forty-eight hours later, Elizabeth finally made it to the rendezvous point. She was thankful to see Mr. Gibbs waiting for her as planned.

"You be a sight for sore eyes," he greeted with a smile. "Cap'n has been as angry as a wench missing some coins the past couple days. He'll be relieved to see you."

She bit her lip. Barbossa was angry? When he found out what happened, he would really be angry. Elizabeth pushed her worrisome thoughts away for the moment; he'd told her to do whatever was necessary, after all. It's not as if she'd asked for anything to happen. "And I'll be relieved to see him, as well. Where are we headed?"

"Into town. We'll be here for a couple more days. Cap'n is meetin' Goodwin soon so that we can get our letters and figure out a plan of attack," Gibbs answered. "I'm to take you to your apartment right now. I'm – uh – expectin' the cap'n to already be there."

Elizabeth couldn't shake the apprehension that knotted in the pit of her stomach.

Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth opened the hotel room door with the key that Gibbs had given her and quietly closed it behind her. Barbossa was sitting at a small table in the center of the room studying a map. When he looked up at her, there was a mixture of relief and frustration. She swallowed.

"There she be," he said, standing and taking a couple steps towards her. He'd initially planned to press her against the closed door and kiss her senseless because he'd missed her, but the guilt shadowing her face stopped him. He frowned, initially thinking maybe she hadn't been able to get any information. Though it would have been silly, there was a tiny, completely unreasonable part of him that hoped she hadn't met any British officers. "Did everythin' go accordin' to plan?"

Elizabeth nodded, having a difficult time meeting his intense stare. "Yes. I was able to acquire quite a bit of information that will help us a great deal." Still standing by the door, she crossed her arms across her chest protectively as she could feel his ire growing, especially when his eyes narrowed at her.

Barbossa took a couple more steps to stand in front of her. He knew the look on her face, and he didn't like it. It was the same one that he'd seen the morning after their first night together in Madagascar, and the mere memory of that moment caused his heart rate to increase as he pressed his lips together in a futile effort to not go where he was about to go. He'd told himself that he wasn't going to ask how she'd acquired her information when she returned. He'd told himself that it wasn't his concern. He'd told himself that she was not his to start with and that he didn't care.

But he did. The anger and frustration that had been driving his turbulent thoughts for the past couple days bubbled up before he could stop them.

"In any way necessary?" He'd spat the words out with obvious disdain as he glared at her. As much as he wanted to be nonchalant about it, he simply couldn't. She had spent time with another man, and his hands clenched uncontrollably at his sides.

Elizabeth knew his tone, and she knew the scornful look that he was giving her, but she refused to cower. She pursed her lips together as she returned his glare full force.

"Isn't that what you asked me to do?" she snapped, swallowing hard to alleviate the slow, emotional burn building at the back of her throat. Things between them had been so well lately – she'd been so happy – the last thing she wanted was another fight with him. She really wasn't sure how many more they could handle.

Barbossa walked away from her over to the window, trying to calm his irrational anger but having little success. He had told her that; that's what made the whole damn thing so frustrating. There was some part of him – some unrealistic part of him – that had hoped that she wouldn't acquire the information in any way necessary; that maybe she, in her wily womanly ways, would find a different method. He could not help the jealousy that was brewing inside him, though. He did not want to share her. He did not want to have to deal with the whelp. He did not like being second. He did not like the entire situation that they were in. And he couldn't do a damn thing about any of it.

"Isn't that what you asked me to do?" Elizabeth asked again as she watched him, her voice louder than before. "Answer me!"

"Yes!" Barbossa exclaimed at the window in front of him. "Yes, I asked you to!"

"Then what are you so angry for?" she yelled. She'd not expected their reunion to be so volatile. She should have known, though. Maybe they were fighting an uphill battle. Regardless of how they felt about each other – regardless of their attraction to each other – maybe they just needed to stop everything. They always seemed to find something to argue about.

Barbossa clenched his teeth together, reminding himself that he had no say over her or what she did, but it didn't change the way that he felt. "Because I – " he barked, whipping around where he stood, intending to say one thing but stopping himself so that he could say something different. "Because I'm a ridiculous old pirate that wants more than to play second fiddle to the memory of some dumb whelp or anybody else!"

Elizabeth's heart constricted painfully in her chest, and tears began to fill her eyes. Being mad because she'd been with the Brit was an open door for him to revisit the fact that she was married. There was so much that she wanted to say, but how could she when she belonged to another? She couldn't change that she was married anymore than he could. They could ignore it like they'd been doing for months, but it never changed the fact. It was always there. It was always the unspoken wedge between them. Apparently, it always would be. But it still made her mad.

"You are not second fiddle!" she exclaimed, allowing her own frustration a bit of freedom. "Stop making me feel guilty for being married, which you knew when you came for me months ago! And stop making me feel guilty for something that you asked me to do! If you knew that you would react this way, then maybe you shouldn't have sent me off with your blessing to warm someone else's bed when I only want to warm yours! Maybe I should go find someone else that won't judge me for doing something that I didn't ask to do!"

As soon as she turned around and reached for the doorknob, Barbossa was on her, grabbing her shoulders and spinning her around. Before she could speak, he pressed her against the door and covered her mouth with his in a frantic kiss that was fueled by exasperation.

Elizabeth tore her mouth off of his and pushed him away with a grunt, turning for the door again.

"Yeh not be leavin' this room," he growled, spinning her around again, his fingers curled around her upper arms. "Yeh might not be mine legally, but yeh be mine right now, and I intend to make sure yeh know that. There won't be no more someone elses."

"I don't want any someone elses, dammit," Elizabeth told him, grabbing the edges of his frock coat and fisting the material in her hands, shaking him just a little. "I just want you. And I don't want to fight anymore! I'm tired of fighting with you."

Barbossa's pained eyes met hers briefly before claiming her mouth once more. He didn't want to fight with her, either. Too often words between them only made things worse, and it was much easier for him to show what emotion he did have through actions. He felt so deeply for her and showed it with his kiss that was less demanding than the first. Much to his relief, she did not push him away that time.

"I don't like fightin' with yeh, either," he admitted, slipping his hands to her waist as he nuzzled her neck. "Perhaps we can find somethin' else to do to rid ourselves of these frustrations, aye?"

Elizabeth knew that he was trying to make amends for reacting the way that he had, and she appreciated that; she wanted to get back to how they were before she'd left for Antigua. She reached up and removed his hat, tossing it aside, knowing that she was the only person who could do that without being keelhauled. "Can we just forget all about the someone elses, Hector? Can we just think about us? Please?"

"Beautiful and brilliant," he said, his voice quieter as he lifted a hand to caress her cheek. "I suppose that's why I be so smitten with yeh."

"And I you," Elizabeth replied, slipping her arms around his waist. "So – uh – when are we to meet with Goodwin?"

Barbossa tucked a strand of hair over her ear and smiled. "Tomorrow."

"Hmm, I see. So what's on the agenda for the rest of the day then?"

"I don't think there is anythin' on the agenda for the rest of the day."

"No?" Elizabeth teased, pressing herself against him, her eyes twinkling coltishly. "Well, whatever will we do with all this time to ourselves, Captain?" It wasn't much past noon.

"We could finish lookin' over the maps," he offered with a shrug, enjoying their verbal game. He was thankful that they'd been able to get past what surely would have been another huge argument. Talking about whatever feelings they had for each other was dangerous waters that he wasn't completely prepared to navigate through.

Elizabeth shook her head. "I don't think so. Any other suggestions?"

"We might be able to find some of the crew nearby fillin' themselves with spirits and join them."

Elizabeth grinned. "I was thinking of maybe filling myself with something else," she said quietly, her mouth twisting into a smirk.

Barbossa groaned at her sexual innuendo and pressed his hips against hers. "Aye, I've got somethin' that might fill yeh just fine," he nearly growled.

"You do?" she asked coyly. "Whatever could that be?"

He chuckled. "I'd have to show yeh."

"Mmm, please do."

When their lips met, all of their earlier frustration collided with their current desire and was unleashed like canister shot during a ship attack. Elizabeth was pushed against the door, her grunt muffled by Barbossa's frenzied kiss, and there was no mistaking what both of them wanted.

Wishing to move them to a more convenient location immediately, Barbossa turned them around so that he was backing her up to the bed. His fingers quickly unfastened her breeches, pushing them down as they walked. He'd never been the jealous type before – never felt the need to mark his territory – but his need to remind Elizabeth of what they had together was intense. It was primal. He would be the only man in her thoughts.

Elizabeth sat down on the bed with a bounce as Barbossa quickly shrugged off his coat and holsters. After kicking his boots off, he grabbed her legs, tugging her boots and breeches off and tossing them across the room. He couldn't wait; he couldn't stop himself.

Wide eyes watched him as he shoved his breeches down and hastily rolled on the condom that he'd grabbed from his coat pocket. She said nothing, but her chest was quickly rising and falling in anticipation, and it spurned him on. He was on her in a second, covering her body and pressing her thighs apart with his. He held her in his arms, devouring her mouth with hungry kisses as her legs wrapped around him. It was only moments before he was pushing into her tight channel, delighted with the sighs and moans tumbling from her lips.

It was not a time for tenderness. Barbossa pistoned his hips into hers, encouraged by the nails scratching up and down his back and breathless moans coming from Elizabeth. She was wet, her skin was aflame and he had no rational thought left in his cerebral head.

"Mine," he growled, nipping at her neck and causing her to tighten around his length.

Elizabeth clung to Barbossa, her body instantly responding to his and greedily taking all that he had to give. Yes, last night with Peter had been fun, and he'd been very easy on the eyes, but he hadn't given her this – only Barbossa could. Her own husband hadn't ever given her what Barbossa gave her.

"Yes," she breathed, and somewhere way back in her mind, she wondered if it was in reaction to what he'd said or in reaction to what he was doing. Maybe both.

Barbossa grabbed one of her hands and pushed it down between their bodies. "Come with me," he panted.

Elizabeth complied, furiously rubbing the fleshy pearl between her legs; it wasn't going to take very long. As he continued to nip at her neck (she was certain there would be bruises tomorrow), her inner muscles clenched around him.

"Say it again," she moaned, the tingling growing closer and closer as she rubbed. "God, say it again, Hector."

"Mine," he growled once more, his hips increasing their speed. "Mine!"

Elizabeth came with a loud exclamation, crying out his name and digging her nails into his back with her other hand. He followed behind her, releasing his conjoined pleasure and frustration in one long grunt. It took a couple minutes to ride out their orgasms before they finally lay in a tangle of hot flesh.

She wrapped her arms around him as he buried his head in the crook of her neck, both of them still breathing heavily. Her heart was racing, but her mind was blank. He was all that she could focus on.

"Ready for that information now?" she asked with a small laugh.

He chuckled then. "Not yet," he said, lifting his head, his eyes searching hers; for what he wasn't sure. When he'd asked her to come along to the Colonies, the last thing he'd anticipated was feeling towards her as he did. And her reciprocating was definitely off the map. "Elizabeth, I –"

"Shh," she said, shaking her head. "We needed that."

He sighed, gazing at her with softer eyes. "Yeh bring out feelin's in me that are so damned difficult to handle sometimes," he reluctantly admitted.

Elizabeth smiled and nodded. "You do the same, you know."

Barbossa kissed her gently and slowly, drawing out the connection with her. He slipped himself from her to dispose of the condom so they could fetch their clothes.

As they dressed, he said, "I'll be takin' yeh properly later."

Elizabeth smirked, tying up her breeches as he put his coat back on. "That so?"

Looking larger than life as he always did, Barbossa walked over to her, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. "Yes, that be so. And it will be a bit more…languid, aye?"

Leaning into his touch, she replied, "I'll hold you to that, Captain."

These two are definitely getting better at dealing with their emotions, aren't they? Not perfect, mind you - but better. It gives me hope.

I bet some of you will know Peter. I used a popular actor for my inspiration for him. There's a picture on my blog in my profile. Check it out. Recognize him? If you do, you get a cookie.

Extra 'thank you' hugs to LadiePhoenix007, Nottipyy, BrunetteAuthorette99, Barbossabeth, Bloodsired, Krushie, Nobody'sNobody and annadedebr (plus the 'guest' ones that don't have a name) for leaving reviews for the last chapter. SO APPRECIATED.

On a personal note, I've officially starting selling at cons! Yay! My first one was this past weekend - it was SO much fun. Now I'm trying to get some more lined up for the next few months. Cross your fingers! Oh...and want to see a picture of me with Jack Sparrow? Go to the blog in the profile, savvy?

*edit* This site is being a bit difficult about updating my profile (because I discovered that my blog link had somehow disappeared), so here is the link (just take the spaces out) - velvetstormff . blog spot . com