When Angelica finally showed up, everyone was ready. The lookout stations on the hills at the entrance to the cove had their swivel guns primed and ready to go. The "fort" at the side of the cove, with its four long-nines, was fully supplied with men and ammunition. Since the Pearl wasn't going to be fighting, Jack had assigned his best gunner to lead the rest of the Pearl's crew who would be fighting from the fort with the long-nines.

Marty was fully cognizant of the honor, and strutted up the hill to the fort as if he'd been born to command. The fort was built right into the hill itself, reinforced with cut stone and heavy wood beams. It could withstand nearly anything, but it couldn't be seen from the entrance to the cove unless the nines were actually sticking out ready to be fired.

The Revenge, the Empress, and the Enforcer—along with their respective captains—were fully prepared, and the Pearl had been anchored outside of the cove, out of the way of the battle.

Suddenly the lookout bell rang, warning the island of approaching ships, and the entire Cove became a beehive of activity. The lookout sent a messenger down to Pirate Hall, where Teague, Jack, Barbossa, Elizabeth, and Tai Huang were meeting. "Ships coming! Warships! Make Ready!"

"Here we go," Jack said, rising. "If she's bringing along Beckett's armada, we'll parley. Anything less than that, and we'll thrash 'em ourselves. Savvy?"

"Aye."

"Yes."

"Got it."

"Let's go."

Jack and Elizabeth were sitting at the far end of the table, so they waited until the others had filed out before following. Jack reached for her hand and held it as they left the room together. When they reached the point where they'd have to separate to go to their respective ships, they stopped. A squeeze of hands, a brief brush of lips to cheeks, and they moved to go their separate ways.

Or they would have done, if Elizabeth hadn't grabbed his hand back and said his name. He turned back with a questioning look.

Heart pounding, she tried twice to meet his eyes before succeeding. "Jack," she whispered again.

His brows drew together in concern. "Liz? You all right?"

She didn't answer, but stepped closer to him. She raised her hand and ghosted her fingertips over his lips. She licked her lips and opened her mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out.

Jack's face softened and he reached out to caress her face in turn, stroking his thumb over her lips. "Love, do you want me to kiss you?"

She closed her mouth again and nodded, not trusting her voice.

"Because of the bet," Jack said flatly, withdrawing his hand.

"No," she replied. "Not because of the bet. Because—" She took a deep, wavering breath. "Because once… wasn't enough," she managed to tell him, hating how breathless her voice sounded.

He looked puzzled at first, and then she watched the light of understanding and remembrance dawn in his eyes.

"That a fact?" he murmured, coming closer.

"Was—was it for you?" she asked, swallowing.

His eyes caught hers, turning even darker, and she couldn't look away as he leaned closer. "Never," he whispered against her lips before capturing them with his.

The kiss was far better than their first one had been, when Jack had been too shocked to respond at first, and Elizabeth had been busily planning out how to shackle him without his noticing, and they had both been terrified of the kraken. Beneath all that had been the sweet flavor of rum on his lips, the sea-salt taste of his skin, the warm, muscular feel of his body against hers.

It wasn't the passionate claiming she'd been expecting from a pirate. This was the slow, tender exploration of a man who loved her. Elizabeth felt as if she was nearly drowning in the sensations of his body against hers, the taste of his mouth, the feel of his lips, the teasing tickle of his mustache and beard.

She broke the kiss, panting, but Jack didn't let her breathe for long. "Oh, I remember this," he growled, and pulled her closer to kiss her again, more deeply. He tasted like her dreams of him this last year, when she had awakened so often breathless in the night, with the taste of rum and salt on her lips. He ended the kiss and stared at her, one hand tangled in her hair. She had never seen such an expression of gladness and warmth in his eyes before. "Seems we have some things to talk about," he said in a voice as soft and rough as raw silk.

She nodded, sliding her hands along his neck under his hair. "Seems so," she agreed.

He closed his eyes to further appreciate the sensation, and then suddenly started to laugh. She abruptly pulled her hands away and stepped back with a scowl, but he caught her hands and held them firmly against his chest.

"You do choose the oddest and most inappropriate moments to get amorous with me," he teased, using his grip on her hands to pull her back into his arms and hold her there.

Elizabeth hadn't thought of it from that perspective before, and she had to laugh. "Suppose I do," she admitted. "Sorry."

He leaned in to taste her lips again. "I don't mind," he said in that raw-silk voice of his, and gave her another of those drowning, consuming kisses.

The lookout bell rang again, and he broke the kiss but kept his face nuzzled against hers. "Damn," he muttered.

"We have to go," Elizabeth said. She cupped his face and kissed him once more, mouth closed, lips lingering against his, and when it was over he was giving her that heart-meltingly soft look again.

"Come find me afterwards, love," he said. "We'll talk then."

"I will," she promised.

"And be careful out there." He warned her pleasantly, "If you do anything stupid, I'll kill you."

"That goes for you, too," she shot back, "And I've had practice!" She was rewarded by the sound of his laughter as he hurried his arm-flailing way down to get out to Barbossa's ship.

She smiled and ran the opposite way toward her Empress. Sao Ri, one of Sao Feng's relatives, was waiting in a jolly boat to row her out to the ship.

"Thank you, Ri," she told him, moving up to sit next to him and take the other oar. "It'll go faster if both of us row."

Sao Ri gave her a worshipful glance and bent his back to match her rowing strokes.

The Empress crew could never be thoroughly convinced that Elizabeth wasn't in fact the goddess of the sea.