PART IV
When Eleanor arrived at La Maison de Renard just after one in the morning, the building was packed. Once the sun went down the brothel usually drew a large crowd, but Eleanor had never seen the place as crowded as it was on that night. She had to fight her way through a mass of people just to make it inside of the building, and she had to continue to fight to make it to the slightly less crowded rear of the building where the din of noise finally lowered enough that she could hear herself think.
A heavy hand landed on Eleanor's shoulder and a shot of adrenaline spiked through her as she turned her head to the side to see who had touched her.
"Oh," she breathed out in relief.
It was only Johan, one of the men she had sent over to the brothel to help keep order. Max had hired additional security, but Eleanor knew and trusted her men and she had insisted that Max accept their presence.
"Mistress Guthrie," Johan greeted, nodding his head respectfully.
"Johan," Eleanor replied fondly, offering him an affectionate smile. "Don't tell me trouble is already brewing. The festivities haven't even begun."
"No, no, nothing like that," Johan assured her quickly. "It's just … she reserved a table for you," he continued, his voice lowering confidentially though with the level of noise in the room no one would have been able to overhear them. "I'm supposed to seat you," Johan finished, indicating the direction they would need to head in.
Eleanor was touched by Max's thoughtfulness and relieved as well. She had not been looking forward to being jostled and fighting off drunks for the entire night. When she saw the booth Johan brought her to however, her skin flushed and a crooked little smile touched her lips.
Max had reserved for her the booth that Eleanor had been seated at the first night she had truly caught Max's attention. Eleanor hadn't known at the time that she had caught Max's eyes on that night, but later, once they had become more familiar with each other, Max had told her the story.
Pirates liked music and they especially like music sung to them by pretty girls, so on occasion Noonan had allowed the women who worked for him to pick up some extra coin by singing for the sailors. Eleanor had come by the brothel one night to speak to Noonan about some concerns she had, but on that night Max had been standing in front of the fire place in the middle of a song, and captivated, Eleanor had slipped into a nearby booth to listen.
According to Max 'listening', as done by Eleanor, consisted of undressing Max with her eyes, staring intently at Max's chest, and smiling to herself when Max's movements revealed her thighs. Eleanor had taken umbrage to this characterization of her behavior that night, but she had been enchanted by Max's beauty and angelic voice and so she had come to accept that some of her attraction to Max must have showed outwardly. After all, Max had started shamelessly flirting with her after that night, and not long after that they had gone to bed together for the first time.
Eleanor was only halfway through her first drink when the first of the unwanted guests she would have to suffer through that evening took a seat at the far end of the booth.
The first of her uninvited table companions was Ben Hornigold, who engaged her in a passive aggressive tête-à-tête for the better part of ten minutes before he finally took his leave. After that, Capt. Naft dropped by, and Eleanor had a pleasant, though dull, conversation with him. Naft was looking forward to the show, so much so that a few times Eleanor had to fight the urge to laugh. But, Naft was genuinely complimentary towards Max and how much she had improved things around the brothel, and Eleanor found herself a little disappointed when he left, if for no other reason than a sinking feeling that the next person to join her at the table would not be so agreeable a companion.
"Pleasant evening."
"It was," Eleanor muttered, sighing deeply as Charles Vane took the seat opposite her.
Vane ignored her comment, continuing on as if she hadn't spoken.
"The place looks good. It's shaping up to be a fine event you're putting on."
Eleanor sighed again before saying, "I've nothing to do with tonight's festivities."
"That Turkish arquebus Pardo bought from you last week says otherwise," Vane observed slyly as he reached out to catch the arm of a passing wench to order a drink.
"Does it?" Eleanor asked bored of this conversation before it had started.
"She'll suck you dry," Vane warned as he turned back around. "She'll bleed you until there's nothing left."
"Fuck you," Eleanor spit at him, staring at him hatefully. "Why the fuck did you even come over here?"
"It's not just the money," Vane continued and Eleanor's clenched. "You were just starting to gain back some of the favour you lost defending her the last time, ca-"
"Defending her from your fucking men," Eleanor interjected angrily.
"You know I had nothing to do with that," Vane said, sliding further towards Eleanor, seeking out her anger instead of running from it.
He loved to see Eleanor's eyes blazing with passion. He loved provoking such emotion from her. Seeing that depth of feeling in her eyes, seeing her on the edge of losing control like that never failed to make him hard. It didn't matter to him whether it was anger or lust that she burned with, so long as she burned.
"I don't know that, and I don't fucking believe it. If you hadn't -"
"If you hadn't been fucking me at the time maybe you would've been able to do something about it. Hell, maybe I would have been able to do something about it. But we'll never know, will we?"
Eleanor's jaw clenched and her chest rose and fell violently with the effort it was taking her to control herself. She wanted to fling herself across the bench and strangle him with her bare hands. She wanted to walk over to the next table, rip the man's fork out of his hand and then stab it repeated into the softest, fleshiest parts of Vane's body before finally sinking it into his eye. She wanted to hurl every single curse would she knew at him and then threaten to cut his balls off and throw them into the sea.
"I tried to get her off the island," Vane began in a placating tone, seeming to realize that Eleanor's silence was the dangerous kind, the volatile kind. "I never touched her-"
"Shut up," Eleanor ground out before he could finish.
She knew she needed to keep a lid on her anger. He controlled the fort now, and as much as she hated to admit it, it meant that she could no longer punish him and curse him with the near perfect impunity she had before. She would not tread carefully with him, but she could not stomp around in lead boots either. She needed to stay in control.
"She choose to come with us. I was in no position to stop her if she wanted to leave with you, but she -"
"Shut your fucking mouth," Eleanor hissed, her lip curling up viciously as she glared at him.
"It's true. I know you want to blame me for everything bad that happens on this fucking island, but-"
"I said 'shut up' Charles!" Eleanor exclaimed angrily, cutting him off once again. "I may have to work with you, for now, but I don't like you. You are a festering, pus filled wound and I don't want to hear anything you have to say. Ever," Eleanor hissed, leaning forward aggressively. "You're not a fucking innocent. What happened wasn't out of your fucking control. You were just too cowardly to stand up to your crew, like a fucking man, so you threw Max to them for time and favour. Fuck your excuses and fuck you, Charles! Fuck you forever!"
"Eleanor," Vane began, his tone mollifying.
"Get up and walk away or one of us isn't leaving this fucking table alive," Eleanor ground out, her eyes shimmering wrathfully in the torch light.
Vane was quiet and still for a moment as he gazed back at her, his chest rising and falling quickly with the effort to contain himself.
"What is it about her?" he asked, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between them, his voice a curious mixture of bewilderment and pain. "Why do you love her so much?" he added softly, his formerly hostile position relaxing until he sat across from Eleanor with his shoulders slumped.
He didn't understand Eleanor's attachment to Max. He never had. Max was beautiful, he had eyes, he could see that, but beauty alone wasn't enough to ensnare Eleanor to the degree Max had. But what else was there? What advantage did Max have over him?
He was strong. People feared his name. He was a powerful ally to have, especially now that he controlled the fort. He could make Eleanor stronger, as she could help strengthen his position on the island, her name giving him a legitimacy his own name lacked.
He was useful. He could contribute. She had seen that he was an asset once. She had seen something in him. But it didn't matter how much he had to offer. It didn't matter how much he loved her. She always picked Max, always. But why? He just couldn't understand why. What did Max have that he, didn't? What did Max give Eleanor that he hadn't? What was it about Max that made Eleanor willing to throw away her reputation, her business, and very nearly her life for her? He came to Eleanor with offers of protection and the promise of greater power, but despite that Eleanor still chose to chase after a whore in a pretty dress instead of coming back to him.
Eleanor's lips parted, readying to spew vitriol in Vane's direction, but as she looked at him – hangdog and boyish – the sharpest edge of her anger dulled slightly and she took a deep, calming breath.
"You need to stop this Charles," Eleanor sighed tiredly.
"Then answer me," Vane said insistently. "Why her?"
"Because I love her," Eleanor exclaimed. "What more is there to say?"
Max made her heart sing. Max's hands had brought her nothing but comfort and pleasure. In Max's presence, she felt safe and valued. Max accepted her and cherished her for who she was, flaws and all, and that acceptance had freed Eleanor to be herself with Max in a way that she had never allowed herself be with anyone else. Max was intelligent, and observant, and clever, and talking with her stimulated Eleanor's mind as well as her body. Max was kind, and funny, and forceful, and passionate, and nurturing, and playful, and shrewd and protective. She was … she was perfect, for Eleanor she was perfect. Without her, Eleanor felt lesser; she felt hollow, she felt incomplete. She chose Max because she loved Max, and she would always choose Max for the same reason.
"I love you," Vane stated plaintively.
Eleanor was still and silent for a moment as she fought the urge to sneer in disdain. Provoking him in this setting, on this subject, was not wise, but she did not want to do or say anything to encourage his belief that he had any chance of winning her back.
Charles did not love her. He was not capable of the type of love a real relationship demanded. If his words could be trusted, which she highly doubted, then he thought that he was in love with her, but that was only because he did not know the difference between healthy passion and unhealthy passion, between obsession and love. He was fixated on her, he wanted her, but his desire to have her wasn't love – and if it was she did not want his version of it, not again. She had barely survived it the first time.
Whatever it was he felt for her had left her bruised, it had made her feel weak and dirty and ashamed of herself. Whatever it was they had had together had been a poison that had eaten away at her joy, and her dignity, and her sense of self-worth, corrupting her from the inside out. What they had been doing together had driven her to the bottle and she was certain that if she had not ended things between them that it would have killed her – either through the effects of drink or his hands around her neck during one of their fights.
Eleanor did not doubt that Charles felt strongly about her, but it was not and never had been love. She knew that now, loving Max and being loved by her had taught Eleanor that. Where once she too had been confused, Max had shown her the difference.
"I hear you, Charles," Eleanor began carefully. It was Max's night and she did not want Charles to create a scene. "I am not deaf to your words, or your actions of late," she continued, acknowledging out loud for the first time that she had in fact noticed that he had been less vile than usual for the past couple months. "But I love her," she stated firmly, her voice strong and sure. "I know that's not what you want to hear, but I cannot change my heart – though if I could I would not wish to. Whether it makes sense to you, or me, or anyone else of this fucking island, I love Max. You must accept this if there is any chance for us to peacefully co-exist."
Vane leaned forward as if preparing for another attack, but he didn't say anything, he just stared at her.
"I could lay the world at your feet," he said eventually.
"She has given me the sun, the moon and all of the stars in the sky," Eleanor replied softly. "She has opened up the very heavens to me. I can't go back to the world."
Vane remained seated for a few seconds after Eleanor spoke, and then without a word he rose to his feet and walked away, quickly disappearing into the crowd.
Eleanor sighed in relief as she lost sight of him and quickly downed the rest of her drink before lifting her hand to motion for another.
"You should not drink when you are angry," Max murmured, pushing Eleanor's hand down as she moved to take a seat on the blonde's lap.
"I'm not angry," Eleanor replied as her left hand automatically lifted and settled in the small of Max's back, helping to support her.
Eleanor's eyes roved over Max as she gazed up at her, and her heart warmed as she spotted her mother's comb in Max's hair.
"'e always makes you angry," Max breathed out, lifting her hand so that she could smooth her thumb over the skin between Eleanor's eyes, which her scowling had made wrinkle.
"You were watching?" Eleanor asked, looking up at her. "Why didn't you send a lackey over to rescue me?"
"Rescue," Max repeated, her tone teasingly incredulous as she looked down at Eleanor. "Since when do you need Max to save you?"
"I always need you," Eleanor breathed out earnestly.
Max smiled at her warmly and stroked her cheek tenderly.
"Max will thank you for the compliment later, when we are no longer surrounded by our admirers," Max replied, cutting her eyes subtly to the side.
Less subtly, Eleanor followed her gaze and discovered that quite a few of the people around them were openly watching their interaction. She couldn't find it within herself to care however. The sexual nature of her relationship with Max had not been a secret once Noonan had found out about it, and after her wrathful attack on Vane and his crew two months before the depth of her feelings for Max had not been a secret either.
"You did promise them a show," Eleanor murmured, turning back to Max.
"There is not enough money in the world to buy them a seat to that show," Max whispered into Eleanor's ear, making Eleanor smile. "Max does 'ave something for you though," she continued slyly, and Eleanor looked up at her curiously. "The foreign gentlemen who were of interest to Mr. Brimble are with Marie, over there, by the bar."
Eleanor turned her head to follow Max's gaze.
"I see the gentlemen in question, and yet I do not see Mr. Brimble," she observed.
"Perhaps, this is more their type of crowd than the one assembled at Brimble's," Max breathed into Eleanor's ear, the warm, familiar caress making Eleanor's eyelashes flutter. "They 'ave been 'ere for a while. They must 'ave left 'is party early. They are … I believe the term is, ripe for the picking."
Eleanor's eyes held on the men for a few seconds longer, already strategizing ways to approach them, but when she moved again it was not to get up.
"I'm sure the fruit won't spoil over the next few hours," she said, angling her head towards Max. "I'll see to them after the show."
"If they left Brimble's early, they may leave 'ere early too," Max warned.
"That's a risk I'm willing to take," Eleanor stated firmly, no trace of doubt in her voice.
In the past, she would have gone to speak to the gentlemen without hesitation, but in the past she had taken Max's presence in her life for granted. They had begun to move forward and repair their damaged relationship, but the weight of the choice she had made all those months ago still bore down on her shoulders. Max did not voice her concerns, but Eleanor knew that she must still have them, and Eleanor did not want to give Max further cause to doubt her.
"I'm not asking you to," Max said softly. "This is not a sacrifice you 'ave to make," she continued, smiling down at Eleanor. "I cannot stay 'ere with you," she went on gently. "There are many things that need tending to and Max must see to them. You go on," Max said, tilting her head in the direction of the foreign gentlemen. "This is not a test. Max will not 'old it against you."
"Really, Max. It can wait. It's-"
"Eleanor," Max cut in gently.
"Yes?"
"Do I need to command you?" Max asked, arching a dark eyebrow at her.
"No," Eleanor breathed out, "but I might like it," she added as her lips curved up wickedly.
"Might," Max purred, leaning down to speak into Eleanor's ear, "is not a word that should fall from your lips when you speak of Max and pleasure."
Eleanor looked up at her, and the expression of wanton desire on her face would have been completely scandalous if they had not been in brothel.
Max smiled down at her and then leaned down to press a light kiss to Eleanor's cheek.
"Go on," she told Eleanor, before slipping off of her lap. "The show will start soon. If you must stay in one place, stay at their table where drink and visual delights will 'elp create an atmosphere advantageous to your cause."
"Are you sure?" Eleanor asked, part of her mind strategizing and plotting even as she looked to Max for final approval.
"Oui," Max breathed out before she took a step back and held out her hand to Eleanor to help her to her feet. "And Eleanor," she called out when the blonde made to step away from her.
Eleanor turned to look at her, attentive as a puppy.
"Get them to buy more drinks," Max told her and Eleanor grinned at her widely before she finally waded into the crowd and disappeared, a jungle cat in search of her prey.
To be continued...
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