Fire and Ice
Elizabeth stumbled into her cabin and clutched her chest, breathing hard. Her lips still throbbed and her spine felt like jelly. Dull panic filled her head. Oh God, what had she let herself in for!
Fire still ran through her veins, tautening her spine and accelerating her breathing. God he was dangerous! Lord Beckett's taste still clung to her tongue, the shape and texture of his lips lingering on her own.
"Elizabeth? Are you alright?" her father called to her. She ignored him, running into her rooms and shutting the door. She leant against the door, collecting herself before she slowly walked to the window and sat on the ledge, leaning her hot forehead against the cool glass. She needed to cool down. She needed a cold bath.
Spotting the ewer of cool water, she gladly peeled off her sweaty shirt, chemise and breeches, and proceeded to sponge herself down, savouring the cold droplets of water that ran down her spine. Cooling herself off, washing away the tension present in her frame. God, why did she let him get so close?
She was going to be in for it the next time he got her alone. Which she knew he would; he had not only the temperament of a viper but the cunning of one too. Elizabeth sighed as she let her long hair down from its elegant style, ruffled and drooping from the duel and the…events that had followed. Sighing, she heard the door open and close, guessing that her maid, Holly, had come in. She set the sponge back in the ewer and reached for her dressing gown.
A hand swiped the sponge as her maid started washing her back, gently pressing against her spine, moving steadily lower. Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest, relaxing. But then Holly's hands slid around her waist and up, and Elizabeth felt a cold sting on the sensitive skin below her breast. She looked down, and saw the twinkle of a horribly familiar signet ring against the skin of her midriff. She gasped and tried to spin around, but his arms pulled her back, into the trap of his embrace. She felt his chest against her bare back, and she shivered. His hard lips caressed the nape of her neck, as she sank against him, her eyes closing despite her will. His hand dropped the sponge, to gently caress up the line of her breastbone.
"What….what are you doing here?" Elizabeth had to stop and lick her dry lips, as she felt desire take ahold of her muscles again, coiling them as tight as thumbscrews. Beckett paused, his hands stilling on her skin, his hot breath brushing against her skin, raising the hairs on the back of her neck.
"You didn't really think I'd let you escape that easily?" he breathed, but before Elizabeth could turn, he spun her around and backed her against the wall. Elizabeth felt her body blush, as she realised his gaze was travelling over her body, taking in her beauty. Digging up her last reserves of willpower, Elizabeth shut her eyes to the sight of him, and pushed him away forcefully, grabbing her dressing gown, like a shield around her body.
"Get away from me! Call yourself a gentleman?" she asked, flustered, not daring to take the time to slip the garment on, just wrapping it around her body. Beckett's eyes flashed but she merely tilted her chin haughtily.
"I never claimed to be a gentleman; I am a nobleman. A distinction that you must learn and you will, very soon, my dear," he murmured, as he stalked towards her. Elizabeth slid away from the wall, wondering where she could retreat to in her tiny cabin, only half-clothed, with the door locked, no doubt. To her bed, as it happened.
Elizabeth felt the edge of the bunk behind her knees, her eyes still hypnotised by the fire in Beckett's, and she toppled backwards, just managing to keep ahold of her robe. She glared up at Beckett, breathless and flushed, the amusement sparking in those azure eyes of his.
"I'm not your anything, Beckett!" she growled, trying to sit up. Beckett walked forward, and Elizabeth paused, watching him suspiciously. He knelt beside her, and took her chin in his fingers. Elizabeth wished she had the strength to lift her chin away, but she was trapped in those eyes of his, powerless, unable to break free. The bird waiting for the snake to strike. He struck in a forceful kiss so full of fire and passion, that Elizabeth felt herself melt. Their tongues duelled for an instant, before he broke away, his body pressing into hers teasingly for a moment, as he stood, and straightened his cuffs.
"We will see, my Elizabeth. You're to dine with me at eight. Don't be late," he said briskly, as he marched out of the cabin. Elizabeth watched him go, her mouth slightly open, her breathing ragged and shallow.
That Evening…
Elizabeth felt dull panic as she walked along the passageway to Beckett's cabin. What was she to do? She knew what he wanted, had felt the physical evidence of his desire for her only that morning, and seeing that they were to be married as soon as they made Port Royal, she could not see how she could avoid giving it to him. Not when her body was in alt at the prospect.
Whatever he may do, whatever he may say, I will not give in without a fight, Elizabeth thought determinedly, her spine stiffening, her chin elevating proudly.
For that evening, she had dressed elegantly, in a deep gold gown that matched her hair, bringing out the amber tints in her brown eyes. The neckline brushed the top of her sternum, the close-fitting sleeves flaring from her elbows like waterfalls of gold lace so fine it could have been spun by spiders. The skirts were overlaid with eau de Nil silk, draping her curves lovingly. Her brown hair was swept up, a few stray curls brushing the nape of her neck, mingling with the simple gold earrings adorning her ears. The only other piece of jewellery she wore was a plain bracelet, given to her by her mother on her fourth birthday. In a way, she hoped her dress would help to hide her true feelings and give her the strength and the shield to deny his Arrogant Lordship.
She knocked on his cabin door, smoothing her skirts, taking a deep breath.
"Come," she entered the cabin.
The cabin was laid out the same as the night she had arrived on the Endeavour, the grand dining table set out with a mouth-watering spread, candles glowing in their holders. And his arrogant Lordship was seated in his chair, admiring a glass filled with some ruby liquid. He looked up and, with a momentary swop to Elizabeth's pride, gazed at her hungrily. But then the fire in his icy eyes struck her and she had to hide her gasp, fighting the answering flames within her.
"My Lord," Elizabeth inclined her head, as he rose and came towards her. She fought the trembling in her knees as he took her hand and kissed her fingertips.
"My Lady," he murmured, as Elizabeth's eyes narrowed.
"Not yet," she muttered archly, one fine eyebrow curving upwards.
"That is a matter of opinion," he replied. "But come; sit," he saw the uncertainty in her eyes, wondering when he was going to pounce, and he sighed. "Elizabeth I promise not to bite,"
Not yet, anyway, he finished silently.
Elizabeth nodded and allowed him to lead her to one of the chairs, his hand lying on her back possessively. She sat, and so did he.
The meal passed in silence, Elizabeth too aware of the brush of fiery awareness over her nerves, rendering them taut and expectant. Finally, Beckett threw down his napkin and walked to the drinks cabinet, Elizabeth tensing in readiness.
"You promised not to bite," she reminded him, her tone steady despite the fluttering of her pulse.
"I didn't promise to do so indefinitely," Beckett said, as he walked up fast behind Elizabeth. She shivered as she felt his fingertips brush across her nape, quickly followed by his lips. "We have some issues to discuss, do we not?"
"Yes. And I warn you now; your seduction will not work on me. Many have tried and none have succeeded," Elizabeth informed him briskly, unable to stand and face him. His purr in her ear was disconcerting, blind as she was.
"Ahh, yes, those syphilitic pirates. How little you truly know of seduction, Elizabeth," his sensual tone sent shivers down Elizabeth's spine.
"That's Miss Swann to you," she replied tersely. She'd had enough. She stood, shrugging off his restraining hand. She faced him defiantly. "You won't seduce me; I'll simply call your bluff,"
"Who says I won't answer it?" he replied. Elizabeth stilled, fear creeping over her body.
"You would take me by force?" she whispered, watching his eyes carefully. Beckett snorted derisively.
"I would never take a lady by force. Oh my dear, how little you know of seduction. I would answer your bluff because there would be no bluff to answer. You want this as much as I," he replied, setting down his glass, swigging down the last of the brandy within it. "Speaking of which, I believe we have a little something we need to finish from this afternoon,"
Elizabeth backed away from him, towards his massive desk, her eyes wide. Her own desire, rising at his words, flared almost painfully, her skin flushing with anticipation. Her lips parted, her breath escaping in little pants, her breasts rising and falling above the line of her bodice. In the candlelight, she looked like a glittering jewel, and she was all his.
Beckett smiled and sprung his trap. He cornered her, one hand around her waist, as he ran his lips up her neck, taking pleasure in the catch in her breathing, and over her lips. Her head tilted back, her body betraying her, as she melted into his arms.
"Elizabeth…." His own desire escaped him in a whispered breath, her name slipping from his mouth. He bent his head…
"No!" Elizabeth turned her face aside, and slid from his grasp. She rounded the desk, keeping an eye on him from the corner of hers. "I won't give in,"
Why are you denying yourself? You won't be able to escape this when we are married," he reminded her. She merely glared at him, still leading him a merry dance around the desk. "For God's sake just stand still!"
"And let you get your hands on me? I don't think so," Elizabeth muttered, forgetting he could hear. He stopped his pursuit with an amused smirk.
"So I affect you? Well that's a start,"
"I have perfectly good reasons for running from you." Elizabeth retorted, unable to keep her tongue in check.
"Such as?"
"I don't feel the need to divulge them," Elizabeth said, still rounding the desk, he following.
"This is insane! Elizabeth, just stand still!" at the compelling order, Elizabeth froze, facing him from across the wide expanse of mahogany, littered with papers and maps. Both their breathing was ragged and shallow, Elizabeth's skin tinged with rose, her eyes glittering in the light from the lanterns. "Now kindly tell me why you deny yourself what you've wanted since the moment we met?"
"I haven't….." Elizabeth saw the warning flash in his eyes. "I was only a little girl when we first met, if you'll recall,"
"Ahh I wondered if you'd remembered. You have grown since then, but I can still see the same fiery, innocent young girl,"
"Hardly a girl. Stop distracting me," Elizabeth barked irritably, struggling to think, to remember her reasons for denying him.
"My apologies, my dear Miss Swann," he mock bowed, a solemn expression on his immaculate face, and Elizabeth couldn't help but smile. "Now your reasons?"
"None you need know," Elizabeth snapped back to her hostile shield, raising her chin haughtily.
"You are without doubt, the most obstinate young woman I have ever had the misfortune to encounter," Beckett growled under his breath, and Elizabeth's eyes flashed.
"And you, my lord, are without doubt the most arrogant, presumptuous, egotistical…"
Suddenly, taking advantage of Elizabeth's distraction, Beckett vaulted the desk. Elizabeth yelped in surprise and went to slide away from him again, but he grabbed her by the waist and pushed her back into the desk, leaning back over it, her hands splayed over the surface. He trapped them under his own, so he was leant over her, her eyes given no choice but to look into his.
"Finished yet?" he enquired, an arrogant smirk on his smooth lips. Elizabeth gulped, as her gaze flicked down to them and back again. She nodded breathlessly. "Well then….."
"Why are you doing this?" her voice was a mere whisper just before their lips touched. Beckett paused, not letting her go, but not ignoring her question either. Elizabeth was surprised; she'd expected him to just simply kiss her into oblivion and ignore her pertinent question.
"Because you want this. And I want you," he replied simply, after a silence that nearly broke her nerves into quivering shreds. All her plans to remain aloof had melted into thin air, as he bent his head and kissed her.
All the feelings she'd had in the hold came rushing back, as he pulled her into his arms. Unresisting she went, giving him back passion for flame, enticement for the molten lava he seemed to be pouring down her veins, melting the ice holding her spine upright. His hands left her waist to sweep downwards, over the curve of her skirt. Elizabeth's breath hitched.
In one sudden move, he picked her up to sit on the desk, his hands returning to their place around her waist. Elizabeth gasped and grabbed his shoulders for balance, hauling him closer. She slid her hands in under his wig, and flicked it off, burying her fingers in the silken waves of gilded hair. He groaned and released her lips, trailing open-mouthed, heated kisses down her neck, following the vein curving lazily down the line of marble flesh. Elizabeth moaned and her hands clenched in his hair. She released him to push at his coat, getting it half-off before he released her neck with a frustrated groan. He shrugged the coat off, taking his waistcoat with it, and stepped back into her arms. She tried to kiss him again but he avoided her lips.
"My turn now," he whispered against her mouth, as his hands rose to her bodice. Elizabeth sucked in a breath, feeling a sharp tug at the clasp of her dress. The other hand crept beneath her skirts, following the curve of her thigh, pulling her closer to him. Elizabeth felt as though she would burst, until she felt his lips leave hers, drifting down her neck to her breast, now bare in the golden candlelight. Her hands clenched, at the feel of hot lips caressing and worshipping her flesh. She arched, pressing her body into his hands and his lips, and he snatched her closer eagerly. She pulled her sleeves down her shoulders, unselfconsciously baring herself to his gaze. He devoured her visually, the icy blue of his eyes transmuting to a shimmering azure silver. His eyes raised back to hers, and he kissed her gently.
"You're so beautiful," he sighed, before he kissed her again. Elizabeth just sank into his embrace, pulling him against her. The fire in her veins built into an unbearable pressure, her body crying out for all that she had never gotten to have. She felt his hands leave her, and rise to his breeches, as she tore his shirt from him, running her palms over the scalding skin. His hands trailed down her neck, and into her hair, supporting her, possessively inspecting all he intended to possess. "And you're mine,"
Elizabeth felt a shiver down her spine at the whisper, predatorial and as uncompromising as ice. Her breath pressed her naked torso against his chest, and she gasped at the sensitivity of her skin. As he whispered that last against her lips, she felt him against her, pushing into her body. He met a barrier and stopped. She sensed the power build as he thrust into her body, through her maidenhead, and she cried out in pain, holding him to her. He stopped, waiting as slowly the agony faded, replaced by the warm throbbing at her core, as he began to move again, rolling into her body. Elizabeth arched her neck back, feeling the pressure coalesce. He tumbled her back onto the desk, holding her to him by her hips, stilling within her. His lips reclaimed hers, distracting her, his hands re-exploring her curves, trailing over the satin smooth skin. He rocked into her once more, and Elizabeth arched-
There came a sudden explosion, which Elizabeth's brain dimly recognised as a cannonball colliding with something. The two stilled, as Elizabeth blinked up at Beckett, conscious of disappointment welling throughout her core. He sighed as they heard running footsteps above, and withdrew from her. Elizabeth barely had time to make herself decent before Lieutenant Groves rushed into the room.
"Sir! The Black Pearl has been sighted off the port bow. They're gaining steadily and firing on us! What are your orders?"
Beckett rushed out of the room, already barking orders, before he turned and looked back at Elizabeth, and at the expression in her eyes.
"Don't go anywhere. Don't leave this room. I will return soon," he reminded her sternly, Elizabeth glared at him.
Suddenly she rushed to him, as the ship was rocked again by another cannonade hit, and kissed him frantically on the lips.
"Be careful," she whispered as she let him go. He stroked her cheek in a surprising show of tenderness and sprinted off, hard on the heels of Groves. Elizabeth sighed as she drifted to the window and looked out on the achingly familiar ship drawing ever closer to them. And in that moment she truly did not know whether she wanted to be rescued or remain with Beckett. She leant her head on the cool glass, still feeling the aftermath of their interrupted, unfinished lovemaking. Tremors swept her spine, weakening her knees, the flames of their joint passion torturing her further. She closed her eyes tiredly.
What had he done to her?