3. Care and Devotion

When she closed her eyes, craning her neck for another kiss James could not refuse her. This time he explored her mouth gently, and she sighed as slowly his weight settled upon her, pressing her down into the mattress. He was heavy, deliciously heavy, and she happily wrapped one of her long legs to tangle with his own. She smiled against his mouth, ducking to nip upon his stubbled chin and jaw. When her lips touched his neck James closed his eyes, groaning with desire.

She would be the death of him. He suddenly had no doubt.

Elizabeth kissed him again, her tongue making sweet war with his own. His hand again wandered the curve of her waist and thigh, and sweeping up again over the flat of her belly. James stopped short just under her breast, fingertips aching to stray just a little higher, to feel that soft mound of flesh beneath his palm. Without breaking their kiss Elizabeth clasped his hand, moving it to cover her bosom in wordless permission, keening with pleasure as his fingers instinctively plucked at her pebble-hard nipple. Her hips rolled against his, leaving very little doubt of what she felt with James on top of her.

"Don't stop, James," she whispered between kisses. "I want you."

Those words.

Three little words he would have sold his soul to hear, and now here they were. Now, when he had lost everything and achieved nothing but the most magnificent ruin. We make plans, and then God laughs, he thought. Well, the sorry git could laugh all the way into next Tuesday, for all he cared.

This night, this one night, he would have her.

James dared not ask if she was sure, leaning down again to kiss her once more. His body trembled with excitement and anticipation. He felt her soften against him, her long legs twined with his as he plied her with kisses upon her jaw and neck and chest. Her reaction was utterly gratifying, so ridiculously sweet.

She was always sweet, his Elizabeth, even when she was cruel.

"This is not how I would have had you our first time," he whispered against her skin. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I wanted to give you the best of everything…" He'd always thought there would be a grand house with a large soft bed and crisp white linens beneath them, not what passed for suitable furniture in a crumbling room on a pirate island, making love out of wedlock.

Had someone told him this future but a year ago, he would have laughed them out of the room, or perhaps ordered them clapped in irons.

Elizabeth's lips curled in a sad smile as she caressed his cheek. "I know, James. I'm sorry I ruined everything."

James shook his head, brushing lips over hers. "You didn't. It wasn't your fault."

And after all that had happened, he truly didn't blame Elizabeth, no matter what part she'd played. He blamed Jack Sparrow.

His lips trailed back down her swan's neck, and Elizabeth sighed, her head rocking back in the pillow. She didn't agree with James on the point of her innocence, knowing very well her own wicked heart and mind, but she didn't exactly wish to argue as he pulled these maddening sensations from her body. She'd never felt anything like it.

It was she who pulled her shirt over her head, wanting to feel his skin against hers. With fumbling hands they worked together to free her of the linen wrappings that bound her breasts into some semblance of masculinity. When it was done she pulled him back against her, her lips hungry for his mouth and the solid weight of him again.

Wrapped up in his arms, surrounded by his large body…it was the first time she'd felt perfectly safe in God knew how long. She'd always wanted to have adventures, but she'd never accounted for the fear that went along with the uncertainty and excitement. James was a welcome shelter from the storm, such an unexpected godsend that she could have cried.

Furthermore who knew that James Norrington could be so…so…beautiful? She marveled as her hands slid over the contours of his back, finding planes of smooth muscle playing under her palms. She explored his arms and the ladder of his ribcage, dipping her fingers into the waistband of his breeches. A harsh word escaped him at the feel of her fingers there, and she smiled against his lips, finding she was pleased to have undone him so.

He'd always been so restrained, so proper. Only now, divested of his uniform, his wig, after he'd lost everything that had once defined him, could she truly see the real man beneath it all.

And she wanted that man.

He'd asked her to marry him, and yet never once had he looked at her the way he had just a minute ago, with such raw adoration. She'd always thought he simply wanted to put her on the shelf of all his fine achievements, pin her on his coat like a gold medal. If he'd dared show her such vulnerability before, perhaps…who knew?

It didn't matter now, she reasoned. She'd burned that bridge to the ground. Now, this was what was left to them. And no matter his apologies for the setting or the circumstances, she rather thought it wasn't so bad.

James tugged at the ties of her breeches, loosening them about her hips enough that he could slide his hand inside. Already she was soaking wet and he groaned as he dipped his fingers into that sweet warmth, moving his fingers in little circles in a way Elizabeth found maddening. She felt as though she might burn up from the inside out, or possibly explode—perhaps she wanted to explode? She didn't know, she couldn't think when he touched her like that…

James pressed one long finger inside of her, curious, light headed for her tight heat clenching around his digit. "This isn't your first time," he deduced, his voice tellingly neutral.

Elizabeth bit her lip, somehow suddenly ashamed, despite their current circumstances. After that night she will have lain out of wedlock with not just one man, but two. And of course James would be disappointed in her for that… "I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes averted. "Will and I thought we were to be married, and it wouldn't matter…But here we are."

At seeing her shame James felt wretched, and regretted even mentioning it. "Don' t be sorry," he said immediately, brushing her lips with his. "Who am I to throw stones? I'm no blushing virgin either."

The thought unexpectedly made her laugh, and like that the dark cloud around them seemed diffused. "It's different though. You're a man. And you're much older than me."

James frowned at that assessment. "I'm not that much older," he protested, narrowing his eyes playfully. He began to touch her again, and once more she seemed to melt into the pillow, biting her lip with pleasure as she moved her hips against his hand. "And, I might add, there is some advantage to a man with experience." His tongue flicked across her nipple, sending the most incredible sensations jetting through her insides as he touched her.

Again, she laughed, a tenuous little giggle so filled with joy that James felt dizzy. This had to be a dream? The most wonderful dream he'd ever had of Elizabeth, but a dream all the same. Her laughter ended in a moan, and James felt his insides turn to molten lava.

"Yes. It's never felt like this before," she confessed breathily, and James paused, frowning.

That stupid boy. That stupid stupid boy, he thought to himself.

Elizabeth misinterpreted his sudden stillness. "James? Did I do something wrong?"

"No," James assured her again, kissing her lips and jaw and neck. "Of course not, not at all."

"Then what…?"

She watched with curiosity as he slid from the bed, going down on his knees before her, tugging her to face him. Entirely fitting thought James. She ruled him more than she could possibly ever know. James pulled her breeches down her hips, leaving her bare before him. For a moment he paused to take in the glorious sight, her svelte curves and proud high breasts, and the dark downy triangle between her thighs. "God you are beautiful," he rasped, his throat tight with desire. "Please tell me that young fool at least told you that?"

Elizabeth sensed the edge of anger in James' words, but she realized not for her. "I….perhaps? I don't remember. It was dark and it always happened so fast…"

James could not suppress his frown. Care and devotion had been the stipulations with which James had relinquished Elizabeth's hand to William Turner. It seemed the boy had paid her neither out of selfishness or pure ignorance. Probably more the latter than the former, but it still made him want to hunt the boy down and give him a proper flogging.

A thought occurred to James of another way in which the whelp may have neglected her, and why she may have taken such drastic measures to find her wayward ex-fiancé. "Are you with child?" he asked quietly, touching her abdomen with a hand that spanned her entire belly.

"No..."

"You are certain?"

Impatience entered her voice as she answered, "Yes, I've bled since…" She colored a little, discussing such things with James Norrington. "Must we really speak of this?"

James drew her into another kiss, and felt the tension melt from her once more. "I promise I'll be careful with you." Elizabeth didn't exactly understand what he meant by that, but as his mouth trailed down her neck and chest her mind fogged, and she took him for his word. She knew she would let him do anything he wanted with her that night.

His mouth trailed down, pausing to suckle at her pretty little breasts in a way that made her arch against him. "Oh James…"

It was possible those two words together might become his favorite in the entire English language.

"Lay back, sweetheart." His voice was thick with lust against her bare belly, sending a shiver down her spine. She'd never imagined such a side of James could exist, and she decided that she liked it immensely. She did as she was told, holding her breath as he nestled his broad shoulders between her legs, his long arms sliding under her. With his lips on her inner thigh she had an inkling of what he meant to do, but she never could have imagined the pure bliss that was his mouth upon her center.

She cried out as his tongue circled her flesh, teasing and lapping at that sensitive bud between her legs. It almost felt too good to stand, and she might have squirmed away had he not cupped her buttocks in his large hands, holding her to him. When he slipped a thumb inside her entrance she strained against him, wanting more. Her body seemed to know this dance, even if the rest of her was happily mystified, curious and ravenous for his touch.

As he licked and suckled she made the most intoxicating little sounds of pleasure, her hands fisting in the sheets and his hair, anything to hold on to while he brought her to such great heights with his lips and tongue… Then it all crashed down in a flood of blinding release, and Elizabeth screamed, arching up with the fury of the pleasure that speared through her.

Smiling against her skin, James did not let up until she begged for mercy, scrabbling to pull him up to her once more. She tasted herself on his mouth when she kissed him, and found it surprisingly titillating. "Oh God, that was…very naughty, James Norrington. What did you do to me?"

What any man with half a brain and her naked in his arms would do he thought, but did not say it. Instead he smiled, a genuine smile that set her heart ablaze. "That pleasure is the whole point of passion between a man and a woman," he told her. "It should be mutual."

Elizabeth bit her lip, unable to stop herself from comparing James' careful exacting touch to the frenzied pawing that had been her coupling with Will in the smithy. She touched James' face tenderly, smoothing one of his dark eyebrows, and his eyes fluttered closed under her gentle fingers. "I think most men would disagree with you."

James knew it was true. He did not understand the disdain for the fairer sex so many men clung to. "Perhaps. However, it doesn't make me wrong."

Elizabeth chuckled in agreement, kissing him once more. "I think it's your turn," she whispered, her voice low and thick as honey. That alone was enough to make his cock throb with wanting, dying to be buried inside her moist heat.

Now mightily curious, she thought that maybe she might try to return the favor with her mouth, but James had her in his arms before she could blink, lifting her to the center of the bed. She watched him remove his breeches with wide dark eyes, feeling bold for watching so brazenly and loving it anyway. How silly that she was no longer an innocent and yet she had never seen a naked man before. Despite her protests Will had always insisted on conducting their liaisons in the pitch dark. Elizabeth's lips parted as she surveyed him, blushing and yet unable to look away.

He was beautiful, and she could have looked for much longer, but James lost no time in rejoining her on the bed, nestling his body between her thighs. She could feel the hard length of him pressed against her, taut and warm and smooth as silk. "Do you still want this?" he asked, rubbing the smooth head of his cock against her soaking wet slit, making her squirm with pleasure.

She reached down to explore him, sighing with anticipation as she took measure of him in her palm. A small strangled sound escaped him when she squeezed a little, making her smile.

"Yes," she panted, angling her hips towards him, placing him at her entrance.

James groaned, pleased to have incited such passion in her.

Pleased.

He was in heaven, and he didn't know how he would ever give her up now. His manhood throbbed almost painfully with desire, hard as heart of oak. How on earth would he manage to last? She drove him to madness with just a look, much less… She hooked one long leg over his hip, urging him on. "Please? I need you, James." Despite what he'd done to her, something still felt undeniably empty inside, and ached for him to fill her.

Her words wove a spell about his heart, and in that moment he knew he would never be free of her. Maybe once he'd wished for some respite of his affections, some mercy for his battered soul, but now he didn't want to ever be free, even if tonight was all they would ever have.

Slowly he slid inside of her, filling her to the hilt with one long smooth stroke.

"Oh God," she sighed, her head rocking back into the pillow. For a moment James feared he'd hurt her, until her lips curled in a little smile, her eyelids heavy with desire. "Don't stop," she urged him. "I've never felt anything like this before, please don't stop."

Filled with pride and love and a dozen other emotions that left him nearly overwhelmed, he began to move, taking her with slow deep strokes that kindled that fire in her loins once more. She rolled her hips to meet his, and gradually they found a rhythm between them, a steady motion like the waves that soon sent Elizabeth to pieces beneath him once more. She clung to him, crying out, "James!" His name upon her lips in that way, oh in that way, and the feeling of her tight little channel clenching upon him sent James over the edge. Only by some miracle did he manage to withdraw in time, spilling himself upon her belly with a trembling groan.

They lay in supine bliss for what felt like hours, but might have been minutes, before James lifted himself up once more. "Oh, Elizabeth." It was all he could manage to say, pressing a kiss to her forehead beaded with sweat. He wished he could call her my Elizabeth, but knew it wasn't true, even after that.

"Did I please you?" she asked in a small voice, and he almost laughed at the thought that she possibly wouldn't.

"You are more woman than I ever could have dreamed. If I did not know your father, I would swear you were born of sea foam."

She laughed a little at that, rolling her eyes. "Now that's a bit much, flatterer."

When he left the bed she felt unbearably cold, but before she could protest he returned with a damp rag to wipe his seed from her belly.

Only then did it occur to her that that was what he'd meant when he promised to be careful with her. There would be no worry of a child, no further burden to carry with her. Just a gift of warmth, and pleasure, and love.

She now had no doubt that James Norrington loved her.

"Thank you," she said quietly, winning a sad little smile.

"In a different life, perhaps," he said mournfully. Once children had been something he'd wanted with Elizabeth, so very much. Now? It would have been impossibly irresponsible.

She heard the note of regret in his words, and she held out her arms to him, inviting him back to bed. Gladly he joined her, sprawling on his side and pulling her into the circle of his arms, a protective hand cradling the back of her head. She nestled into the bend of his throat, inhaling deeply of his masculine scent. He smelled of sweat and salt, sex and something that was just James, and she found it perfectly intoxicating.

Elizabeth kissed him, gentle and sweet, and he felt himself melting all over again. "I never thought you could be so…" She stopped herself from finishing her thought, and James stiffened a little, fearing what she had to say.

"You can tell me," he urged, even as he knew he probably didn't want to know how she had perceived him.

But Elizabeth just shook her head against his chest. "It doesn't matter. I was wrong. I was wrong about everything, James. I'm so sorry."

Not quite sure what to make of that, weary and far too tired to dissect her words now, he kissed her hair and bid her, "Shhh. It's alright."

But he felt her body tremble, and knew she cried against his chest. If she had not pulled him closer desperately, tangling her legs with his, he would have joined her, fearing she regretted loving him, even if just for a night.