Darkness had fallen. James was in his study, presumably finishing up one report or another. I paced our room impatiently, my heart stammering wildly and sweat collecting on my forehead. The whole business wasn't going quickly enough; we needed at least three hours of darkness if we were going to get clear of the harbour and into open water, and that was after I'd finished with James. Once more, I checked my bag beneath the bed; pistol, shot, powder, compass (James' old one), map…

I looked at the clock. Ten past midnight already! I screamed silently in frustration, running a distracted hand through my hair. It had to be now. Now, or live and die this way, forever waking up to see a man of stone.

I turned to the mirror, staring at my nightdress. I pulled the neckline a little lower,; invitingly. I brushed my hair out over my shoulders and let the golden strands frame my face in careless abandon, before turning sideways and shooting my reflection a sidelong, seductive smile. The false sight made me shudder, and the urge to smash my wretched glass face was overwhelming. I clenched my fist, breathing agitatedly. Finally, I reached for my scent bottle. Rose and lavender oil was rubbed into the bend of my elbow, the hollow of my neck. It shimmered wetly in the amber light of the flickering nearby lamp. My eyes were set; black hollows. Now, or live and die this way.

I creaked the bedroom door open. The hallway was dark and ominous, lit only by the snaking gleam from beneath his study door. I padded towards it. I knocked.

"Yes?" James sounded tired; somewhat irked at being interrupted, a mood that would be tricky to work with. He would be sceptical, perhaps even suspicious. I slipped inside, my face against the door as I closed it. I could feel his confused air before I even looked around.

"Elizabeth? Is something the matter?" he asked softly. I turned slowly, backed fearfully against the door. He looked up at me, weary and puzzled.

"You…you didn't come to bed," I said stiltedly. "I just wondered…" I waved a pointless hand. Wondered what, exactly?

"Yes, I'm sorry darling. Reports," he said wretchedly, gesturing to the inane clutter that littered his desk in its frighteningly overwhelming volume. "I don't expect to be retiring for a while."

I pulled up a chair and sat, uninvited. He continued to peruse my countenance in obviously deepening puzzlement. "I can't sleep," I whispered haltingly.

"Bad dream?" he asked, now beginning to look annoyed. Changing tact, I met his gaze squarely.

"No," I breathed. I seized his hand impulsively, my fingers entwining languorously in his. "I think I…I need…" I broke off, my breath hitched in feigned desperation. James' brow furrowed.

"Elizabeth, sweetheart…you should rest. You are still recovering." But there was a note of brazen, heated desire in his tone, roughening the edges of his voice; small, but enough to work with.

"But last night, you-"

"Yes, so you must rest, I think…Elizabeth, really!"

I had leant across the desk, my breath growing shorter all the while, and grasped at his collar. My hands fumbled pathetically with the stupid golden buttons. James stared, torn between bewilderment and unhidden longing.

"Please, James."

"Elizabeth, you cannot-"

"James, I need you!" My last words burst out with keening desperation, and a real sob rose in my throat. I was running out of time. "I can't sleep, I can't-" I pushed my lips forcefully onto his. He pushed me away, gasping, his gaze unfocussed. I noticed how much heavier his breathing had become. Just a little more, a little final push…

"Give me your hands," I whispered, my voice slow and lilting, my face an inch from his. The room's atmosphere grew heavy and swollen, and I became opium. "James, my James…"

"Elizabeth," he choked, his shaking hand running slowly and lasciviously down my cheek.

"Come with me," I entreated gently, my own hand snaking across his throat. It fluctuated with the shallow uncertainness of his breath.

A response rose within me that I had not planned for. Seeing him there, solid yet oh so helpless in that shimmering study…I gasped softly against his mouth and pulled back suddenly. I fell back against the bookcase. We were motionless for a brief second, and yet for eternity…his hands were clamped rigidly in the position I had left them in. I sank against the wall, blinking and unable to clear my head.

He began to rise, his gaze never leaving mine. Entirely transfixed. Hypnotised.

And then, like a cobra, he moved dizzyingly fast, and I could not move as his body came against my own. His smell, the warmth, the entirely airless darkness…

Too soon, too soon...

I felt the last remnants of control sliding from my sweat-slicked palms. Ferociously, I clasped back at them, and was able to maintain a slither of preserve. I pushed against his chest, but he had forgotten everything around him. His kisses were starving, ardently searching for the affection I had long withheld from him.

"Elizabeth…my angel, my beautiful darling," he murmured feverishly into my hair. I was able to duck between a gap in his arms. He groaned at the loss of my pressure against him, and I darted from the room. "No…" I heard his dim plea as I left the door hanging half open.

"Out here," I whispered.

He stepped from the room, staring at my silhouette against the brilliant moonlight of the hall window. Silver flooded the space between us, reflecting in his confused and desperate eyes. I smiled, very slightly, and took slow steps back towards our bedroom. James leant against the study door, watching me in longing adoration.

Guilt, a tiny drop in an ocean of betrayed hurt.

A girl, twelve, curly brown ringlets. A man, shining gold brocade…

"We'll always be friends, James? Forever?"

"Until I have no breath in my body."

No, NO! It was Will, it had always been Will. My heart; my reason for waking every morning.

"Come…" I whisper to my husband.

He follows, and I have all power now.

Within the bedroom, the windows were thrown wide, and balmy salt air billowed in. It caressed every part of me, and I stood letting my nightdress ripple in the wind. It caught around the contours of my body, and James sank hopelessly against me. I stroked his hair in absent detachment; more peaceful than before. Our heads tilted to kiss, and soon his lips fell lower. I let myself go, falling into a dance that I had no choice over, and smiled into his hair. His hands, warm and calloused with scars, ran warmly up my nightdress. He was still kissing me.

"Ah-" his lips reached a place I hadn't predicted. I giggled as he pushed me fervently down onto the bed. Cool silk sank around me.

"Sh sh…" he murmured, smiling and looking up at me. His eyes shone with warmth and love, an unearthly shade of green that glowed in the night.

"Do it again," I whispered. And again, he did. I gasped, laughing and trying to pull away. He smirked gently and moved up, kissing my stomach, my breasts. Soon his gaze was inches from mine, tender and filled with careful joy.

"Anything. Tonight I will give you anything," he sighed happily, raining ever more kisses onto my lips. They searched hungrily along my jawline, tasting the soft skin they found there. "Like roses…" he muttered, slowly relishing the texture. I lay still, forgetting time; entranced. Then he traced my face carefully, examining every tiny detail. Unaware of precisely why, I find myself doing the same to his.

A small scar just below the left ear; a nick from a bullet that just skimmed past…a fresher mark above the lip, from a Spanish cutlass, he says…

So many times she had encountered him, had Death, that it was inevitable her tattoo would eventually drum itself into his skin. And yet, huddled against him, there was no doubting the life…the warm glow of life…his heartbeat thrummed, eternally strong and sure, against my own.

My nightdress was curled in with the rest of his clothes beside the bed in a melee of blue, gold and white. The colours were innately complimentary of one another, effortlessly blending into a pleasant swimming haze.

"Elizabeth…." His groan came in surprised roughness as I reached downwards and grasped at him. Perfectly fitted in my palm, with the same complimentary feeling that the nearby colours had. Skin slicked against skin, he shook, his head buried in my neck. "I don't…" he pressed downwards, unable to finish his sentence as true madness claimed him. I laughed softly, teasing him carefully. His hand was clenched white; entirely helpless. I brought my hand away quickly, eliciting a confused moan from my husband. "Please, Elizabeth…"

But then his voice changed, and his gaze grew in clarity, regaining the sharpness of its trademark military discipline. Swiftly, and before I could inhale a moment of the still air, his lips had crushed themselves to mine with confident coolness; control was his infinitely in a second, and I felt his hands push my legs apart with practised ease. He sighed unevenly as he pushed in roughly, pinning me completely without heed. I felt my ribcage contract at the limited space, and it seemed as though something would break as he pushed in again. I tried to speak, but his lips were merciless; angry even…Deep down, I sensed he knew something. He was angry, angry at being tricked; at being torn from his study like a hypnotised wraith. His pace quickened, driven by the furious animal desire that seems to hold all men by the throat, clawing at my body in devouring need. His breath suddenly turned sharp in my ear, and the kissing stopped. All was still for a moment of miserable tension, before he collapsed in shuddering weariness.

"Elizabeth," he mumbled, his tone non-descript.

"Mm?"

"So-" he yawned "-so beautiful…"

He still had me held down, and I waited with mounting, nervous impatience for him to move. He remained still, playing absently with a tendril of my hair, admiring how moonlight worked her shadows around my face.

"You bewitched me," he chuckled gently, kissing my nose as he had done when I was younger. "Like a little fairy…" he tickled the skin of my throat, searching me with a disturbingly penetrative gaze. I gulped, and he sensed it beneath his touch. "What are you pondering, I wonder?"

"N-nothing."

"Indeed…" he frowned seriously and sat up. I shivered at the loss of his warm body against mine; the night air chilled the feverish sweat upon both of us. He watched me in the darkness, every move of my bare body touched by his scrutinising gaze. I brought my hands up to cover myself, suddenly filled with an excruciating self-consciousness.

"No, don't-" he pulled my hand away carefully. "Every time, you always…" he trailed off sadly. "You're perfect, Elizabeth."

"I'm tired," I said quickly, reaching down for my nightdress, only to find his hand gently holding me back.

"Sleep without it. The covers are warm enough." He pressed me into the pillows, pausing to cast an examining, admiring eye over me once more, and then sank in beside me. Beneath the dampened sheets, he held me closely, his eyes gradually falling shut. With the absence of maddened desire, such intense proximity set me about shivering. Every fluctuation of his breath, every subtle shift of his body…and his heart, murmuring against my breasts. Even our legs were entwined, and his warm, heady scent -something exotic mixed in with sword polish- was making my mind spin.

The tapping of the clock in the hall…so warm here, safe…the clock in the hall…why…fight?

I started, eyes blinking madly. Shaking off my half sleep, I stared at my husband, noticing his significantly slackened grip.

Easy, easy…his fingers, prised from my shoulder…slowly…my hair from beneath his pillow…

I was away. Sitting up stiffly, I rubbed out the indentations his passionate embrace had made all over my body. James sighed a little louder, but did not wake. His face had a troubled expression, and I wondered what he dreamt.

The window was still open, and the moonlit ocean called to me softly. A slow, lazy grin spread across my lips as my feet swung to the floor.

"Bring me that horizon," I whispered.