I want to sincerely thank you for your comments and questions about this fic. Each notification that people are favoriting, following, giving kudos or leaving a comment just cements my determination.
I am thrilled that people liked the conversation of the last chapter. I hope you like this one as well.
I probably won't have another chapter for you until Saturday, as I have a day full of meetings at work and a dinner date with the husband tomorrow night. So I don't think posting will be on my mind.
Previous Chapters – AO3 and
Killian made it back to the village blacksmith shop before the sun had lowered too much in the sky, his face a bit flushed from both the sun and the exertion of walking so quickly. He had not yet seen to his hook, having found that he was not completely lost without it. Certainly the ache of the missing hand had not gone away. However, the hook was more of a weapon and ornament than an actual appendage.
The blacksmith's apprentice looked at Killian with awe as the pirate snapped the curved metal piece into place on his brace. "That is better than a hand," the boy, who was probably no more than 14, said with wonderment. "I think I should like one."
"I think that would not be a good trade," Killian said. "A hand is far more useful and better for most any task save breaking ice."
"It must scare people," the boy said, still not deterred.
"Respect isn't built on fear," Killian mumbled as he tossed a few coins in the direction of the apprentice, including a hefty tip for the trouble.
Looking down at the silvery protrusion, he ran a ringed finger over the curve and grimaced at it. He'd had it for centuries now, longer than he'd actually had the hand. And for the first time in as long he felt it didn't belong there. It was heavy and awkward. He had noted that Emma had not said anything more of his missing hand, treating him as though it was not an issue. She touched his forearm where the brace and skin combined. His left side no different to her than his right. But could she ignore something as obvious as a hook?
"Is the fit not right?" the boy asked, suddenly aware that Killian had not left and there might be a job to do. "He did it himself and did not let me touch it. I swear."
"I believe the problem is me not the fit," Killian muttered.
***AAA***
Emma could feel what she assumed was judgment coming from Granny's eyes as she helped to knead the dough for the tarts that Granny planned to make with the berries she and Killian had picked with Leo. Her hands found consolation in the rhythmic movements on stretching and bending the mass of dough to her whims. It moved easily, soft and billowing under her finger tips.
"Emma," the older woman said, lining the pans with some of the already kneaded dough and then the berries that had been marinating in a bit of sugar and molasses. "Do you care for him?"
Thrusting her fist into the dough that would cover each of the tarts, Emma pretended to consider the question. "I enjoy his company," she said somewhat weakly, her cheeks warming with the not too revealing confession. "He's kind to me."
Granny nodded again, her mind clearly turning over this coin of information in her head. "So he won't be going to your parents when they arrive? I might like to see how he could manage that." Her eyes twinkled as she imagined the scene that both knew would never play out with Killian making small talk with David. It was a scene that had played out over the years without Emma's consent, men approaching her father about courting her. However, she had refused each of them with the support of her parents who agreed that those men weren't ready or right.
"I don't believe that is necessary," Emma said, beginning to separate the dough. "He's hardly interested in me in such a way. He's simply polite and kind." She wasn't about to tell Granny that he had said he would write to her, as she wasn't sure how to talk about that subject without making it more than it probably was in her mind. Granny finished the task of baking the tarts after Emma successfully lit the fire in the wood burning oven. She was cleaning up the bits of spilled flour when she heard a soft moan from Granny. "What's wrong?"
"Red should be here by now," the woman said, rubbing her arm with vigor as though it ached too much for her to stand. "I should go to fetch her. She could be in a bad way." The woman staggered a bit, her face contorting in obvious pain.
"No, Granny, there is no need to worry. She's fine. I'm sure. But I will go to see to her. You stay here with Leo." Before the woman could protest, Emma was wrapping a cloak around herself and warning her brother to stay out of trouble as she hurried along the rocky path back to town. Without her brother to slow her and Killian to distract her, the journey seemed long and Emma began to wonder if she had made a wrong turn when she finally saw the outline of the buildings in the distance. There had been no sign of Red along the way, no indication that any malady had befallen her. As such, Emma was not surprised to find Red behind the bar at the pub with her hands busily pouring drinks for the patrons.
"Granny's worried?" the woman asked as Emma approached. "She is quite overprotective when it comes to me, but I fear she worries more that I am not fulfilling my responsibilities." She flashed a smile at one of the men leaning on the bar, sliding a cup to him.
"Why are working at the bar?" Emma asked, looking about the room for the younger Lily who usually held that station. "Where is Lily?"
"Out for a while. She asked for a reprieve, which has apparently delayed me to the point that you came looking." Red wiped her hands on her apron and spoke to another of the staff. "If you wait a few moments, I'll gather my things. We can walk back together."
Emma took a step backwards, ignoring the rising voices of two of the men arguing. With a quick roll of her eyes, Red stepped between the two, placing a hand on each of them and attempting to soothe them. It did not work as they argued around her, voices rising and fists flailing. Red yelled for her to step out, protecting her from what could usually be seen nightly once the spirits began to flow a bit too freely.
Emma stepped into the subdued outdoors with the sun hanging low and a muted palate greeting her eyes. She could see the ships in the harbor just a few feet from where she stood, their collective sight almost overwhelming as she realized the pure size of it. Her feet carried her in that direction, as the last time she had been there she had not realized Killian's own ship was within feet of her. She was curious about it, wondering about his life aboard it. Was it as cramped and busy as he said? Where did he eat? Where did he sleep? She had been on a few voyages with her family, but none had piqued her interest in such a way.
It might not be proper for a woman to visit a man without invitation or without a chaperone, but Emma realized that she and Killian had hardly been following many of the societal rules. He had touched her hand. They had both spoken without formal titles and done so without the watchful eyes of someone to protect her reputation. Her mother, while certainly more progressive than other royal mothers, would probably be scandalized by Emma's behavior.
The men who usually bustled about these ships were all away either at the pub or below deck having their meals. Those who were out looked upon her appreciatively, some even making low but still heard remarks about her hair, skin, and general appearance. She blushed at their attention and hurried past them toward the ship she knew by description must be Killian's. It seemed peculiar to rush toward a pirate for protection, but Emma did not attempt to analyze why she did feel oddly comfortable and safe with him.
***AAA***
Killian turned the parchment over in his hand, staring at the careful folds and creases in it. It belonged to Emma but she had left it in his hand in either neglect or for some reason he had not completely understood. A personal letter from mother to daughter should not interest him, but a letter from the Queen detailing the route they would be taking with a caravan that included weapons, gold, and other valuable items was of interest to a pirate.
His back rested against the smooth boards of the boat's stern, the rise and fall of it in the choppy waters massaging him. If the men knew of the letter in his possession, he had no doubt they would pounce upon it like animals onto a meal. But he could not help but see Emma's expression as she mentioned her mother's writing. She had not been thinking of the danger that it posed for him to know the details, as her focus had been on the fact that she would be leaving.
"You didn't want a drink this evening?" the familiar voice of the pub's barmaid said saucily as she approached him. "I noticed your absence and came to find you."
He did not even look up as he stuffed the paper into his pocket and stood awkwardly to face Lily. "Good evening," he said. "I wasn't aware that absence was noticed since I have not been around much."
Lily pulled a small flask from the overskirt she was wearing. Her head tilted and mouth slightly open, she pushed it toward him. "I would think you needed this. I don't know of any pirate who doesn't cherish his nightly beverages. This is my own personal stash, but I don't mind sharing."
His blue eyes blinked back at her, trying to remember what it was about her that had struck him as strange. She was beautiful, but there was a hardness to her that was not that appealing. Moreover, there was an emptiness in her that seemed to grow. "I think I have enough here, but thank you for your offer." His balance seemed off as she stepped forward, still holding the flask in her hand and the other on the thin material of his shirt.
"You sure?" she asked. "I don't mind." Her hand trailed down his chest slowly. "Or perhaps you don't need much in the way of liquid courage."
Her mouth was inches from his, a position that he had found himself in before. There was no pull, no inertia that drove him to close the gap. That did not stop her as her cold lips hit against his, ignoring his move backward by following him.
***AAA***
Emma saw Lily move toward him, the kiss appearing mutual from her vantage point. If her foot had not slipped and almost landed her on the deck of the ship, she might have turned to run. Instead, the white hot energy that hummed under her skin seemed to percolate and her eyes closed to the scene in front of her as she felt her stomach churn. As the green eyes opened again Lily was at least five feet away from Killian whose hand wiped at his mouth and nose wrinkled in response.
"Emma," he said, catching sight of her spinning to face the gangplank. "Emma!"
She stopped, not facing him but not running either. Fingers digging into her palms, she was trying to tell herself that she had no reason for worrying about his behavior. "I was waiting on Red and thought I would say hello…" She broke off. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
Lily's shoulder brushed against her as the darker haired woman exited the ship without a word of warning or explanation. However, Emma did not watch the way she hurried back to the pub and out of their line of sight as she studied the aged wood as though it might have some deeper meaning.
"Emma, I didn't invite her here," he said, surmising that the woman's state was due to a form of jealousy. "I was actually sitting here contemplating something and she showed up quite unannounced and uninvited."
Biting at her lip, Emma willed herself to turn around. "And yet you kissed her?"
"I'm not used to making excuses, but she kissed me," Killian explained. "I…" He held off, her face revealing that she did not want to know what he was about to say to her.
"I shouldn't have asked," Emma said. "It was as I said. I came to fetch Red for Granny and had a moment. I thought I might see you and see your ship. It was a silly idea." She was flustered, which he had to admit to himself was an endearing trait as she placed the back of her hand over her mouth.
"You came to see me?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. "I am flattered."
Her eyes lifted up in an arch and her hand dropped back down to her side. "It means very little," she said. "You have been quite kind to visit me and to keep me company. I thought I might repay the social calls you have made. And to see your ship."
His eyebrow lowered slowly as if weighed down by her dismissive words. "I see," he said. "Would you care for a tour? I am sure that might satisfy your curiosity about my ship."
Rocking back on the heels of her shoes, she looked around him in a way that she pretended to look for Lily. "I thought you might be too busy entertaining a guest."
"Aye? Well, I would hazard a guess that Lily has visited this ship and others like it before. But I have no interest in entertaining or being entertained by her, especially if you wish for a tour. I do have a question for you though, if I might?"
She swallowed back, her eyes offering permission for his question. "Go ahead," she said a bit shakily.
"Before…Lily flew backwards as if by some force. And before that I somehow came back to you through some other means than my own feet." He paused, his scrutiny drifting to the way her hands clenched and unclenched in anxious harmony.
"Those are not questions, Killian." She breathed in the sea air sharply. "And I don't believe I should have this discussion here on deck with the ears of your crew alert."
"Forgive me," he said, offering his bent arm to her. "If I may, I'll escort you on your tour."
She smiled in reprieve, as his words had indicated he would not press her on the issue. Staring at his right arm that he was offering, she took in a breath and moved to his left side where she looped her right arm through is handless left arm. "Lead the way, Captain Jones."
"I don't believe anyone has ever called me that before. My brother was Captain Jones. I'm merely Killian or there is my colorful moniker of Hook."
She thought about that for a beat before looking down at the curved instrument. "Your brother was a captain? In the navy or as a pirate?" He had only briefly referred to a brother before, remarking more than a few times that he was now without a family other than his crew. She had felt sad for him, knowing through her mother's experience at losing her family so young how that might feel.
"The Royal Navy, love. My brother was no pirate." He could have told her his own rank then, assured her there was something other than a pirate inside him, but he didn't. He told himself that if such a man still existed in him that it was buried too far now to ever reach again.
Leading her along the deck, he pointed out a few features and encouraged her to touch and try a few different things. Her smile as she grasped the ship's wheel as though piloting her was reminiscent of her brother's. He shared that observation with her as they descended the ladder into the lower level.
"Perhaps you might show him the same tour sometime?" she asked. "He's quite fond of ships and the sea. At least in theory."
Killian proudly showed off the ship's interior and the cramped but comfortable quarters of his crew. When Emma asked where he slept, she blushed alongside of him at the boldness of her question but still followed along as he showed her the larger captain's quarters. Letting go of his arm again, she circled the room with her finger touching the seasoned wood and the brass décor. Her eyes fell upon a leather bound book on a shelf, the royal insignia of another kingdom tarnished and faded on its cover. She leaned toward it, her eyes squinting and her fingers running along the barely readable words. "Was this your brother's?"
Killian's breath caught in his chest to see her caught in the pastel glow of the sunset through the high widows of the cabin. It seemed to give her golden hair a glow and her skin a soft radiance that he had to tell himself not to touch. "No," he said quietly. "It was mine."
"You were a lieutenant then?" she asked, raising her head from the dusty volume to see if she was correct.
"Aye."
"You look young enough to be one now," Emma said. Her tone was not teasing but inquisitive. "Quite an accomplishment for a young man. I am sure your brother was proud of you for your hard work and dedication."
"My brother's reputation aided me in the commission and promotion," he answered quietly. "It was a long time ago, love. Far longer than you could imagine."
Straightening in her place she looked toward him and recognized the formal way she had seen him stand with his feet uniformly in place and his arms behind his back as if completing an inspection. She had been around enough of her father's troops and their demonstrations to identify the familiar poses and actions. "I envision you in your uniform must have been quite a sight and very handsome."
He tried not to think of himself in that uniform, the itch of the wool in the winter and the time spent shining the buttons to perfect gleaming. "It has been a long time."
"So you said," she quipped turning back toward the bed with the drawers beneath it. "Is that where you keep them? Your trinkets and souvenirs of all the love affairs in the different ports?" She blushed faintly again. "I probably shouldn't ask."
"Your question is fine, Emma," he said, crossing the few steps to the bed and pulling one of the drawers open to reveal blankets and nothing more. "See? I'm not a sentimental man."
She begged to differ, but he was not offering much at that moment. So she could play along with the idea that he was without true emotion. "But you do have love affairs in all the different ports?"
His grin was lopsided as he regarded her cautiously. "Did you imbibe on your trip to the pub for Red? I can think of no other reason for your boldness, love."
Shaking her head, she took a step back from him. "I do apologize. I have just wanted to know more about you. I suppose I overreached." She frowned with concern. "I only wondered because you and Lily. I wondered if she was like the others. If they all meant nothing?" Her hand reached up to hover near the neckline of the dress she wore, fingers touching the gathered edge.
"Women like her are not all that unique," he said with a feigned note of nonchalance. "Any port has a barmaid, a server, a baker's daughter, or a dozen others who throw themselves and their dignity to men they think can bring adventure. I suppose I shouldn't, but I do respond in favor, but Emma, I assure you that there is no romance or love affair about it. I could never love a woman so critical of herself to think she deserved nothing better."
"That seems sad," she perceived. "To always want something from someone to the point of throwing all your life away for the chance at it. You must pity them."
"No, I don't pity anyone other than those who dare to cross me," he said with his most menacing look that quickly softened. "They are beautiful women, but I don't really know them."
She measured that idea, her face contorting with the effort of it. "Do you try to know them at all?"
"No," he answered quickly.
"But you want to know me?"
"Aye, that I do."
She nodded as though expecting that answer. "But you have kissed and held them without that knowledge of their thoughts and lives? Is that why you have never kissed me? Because you are trying to know me first?" The cheek of that question was even stronger than before and made his jaw drop that the princess would ask that. He was not even sure she had been kissed before, though she most certainly had.
"I don't think that is a fair-minded question to ask a man, especially standing in his quarters only feet from his bed, love. But to be honest, I suppose you do have a fair point there."
She accepted his answer to her bold question as permission to continue. "Do you wish to kiss me?"
His eyebrows could not raise any higher as she asked him that, the gentle way she swayed so that her skirts rustled out the only sound. "Aye, of course, but I never intended to do so without your consent," he said slowly. "You deserve better than that."
"Better?"
"You deserve better than a stolen kiss because I could not control myself. You should be hearing me tell you of my admiration of you, not worrying that I might take things too far and compromise you."
"I see," she said dejectedly. "I only wondered…"
"If you should wish, I will kiss you, Emma," he said. "I would like nothing more."
Her head angled to the right as she took a swaying step forward. "I would like that too, Killian."
Maybe he was worried that she might change her mind or that he might lose his nerve, but what should have been a slow descent was more of a crash. Yet it did not stop the gentleness of it, the softness of his lips against hers and ever so slight movement against her. The kiss was almost as feathery as a breath before waking up, its intensity more centered.
He might have pulled back, not attempted to deepen the kiss if she had not molded her body to his. The material of the dress she had borrowed from Red was thin with years of wear and he could feel her body contract with each breath. Her arms draped over his shoulders and one of her hands found the tufts of hair at the base of his neck where her fingers dug in.
It was with no thought that his hook rested at the small of her back, luckily avoiding damaging the fabric and his hand blended into her long, thick tresses of hair, his thumb making half circles against her cheek. She was flush against him, making him mad with the quiet sounds she emitted and the way her other hand glided to his chest where her fingers tapped in cadence with his heart. His eyes were closed but he could have sworn he saw flashes of white light around him. But in the end all that mattered was her in his arms.
***AAA**
Emma knew as Killian walked with her off of the ship that Red would be suspicious of where she had been. Though the woman would probably not chastise her, there would be questions as to what she had been up to and why she had disappeared. She told Killian as much as she stopped at the edge of the dock where it met the land. "I have probably caused her to worry."
"I could speak to her if you wish," he said. "Your tardiness is my fault."
"I think we are both to blame." She ducked her head as he lifted at the gate to allow them back onto the path. Her shoulder brushed against his and she still clung to his arm a bit tighter than she meant to do. "Thank you. For the tour I mean."
"I enjoyed it myself," he admitted, angling himself to face her. He didn't think about it, but his hand reached out to tuck a curl of her blonde hair behind her ear. If anyone saw such a tender moment, she would not be thought of well. However, she leaned into his touch rather than flinching and he did not mar the moment with an apology. "Would you care for me to walk you and Red home for the evening? It is growing dark."
"I am capable of navigating our way home," Red said, interrupting them. Her expression was firm, but the woman clearly was watching Emma's reaction more than Killian's. "Thank you though. I suppose the two of you amused each other while I dealt with the unpleasantness at the pub."
Emma lowered her head in a show of apology to her mother's friend with a meek yes. However, Killian was not sure what the woman meant by unpleasantness. He did not have to ask, as Red quickly told of the two men's actions. "They are from your crew," she alerted him. "I suggest you have words with them before they are welcome in my pub again."
"Of course," Killian assured her. "Please accept my apology for anything they may have done. Is there anything I can do…"
Red held up her hand to Killian, though her steely eyes did not leave Emma's flushed face. "I believe Emma and I will walk back now. I'm sure that Granny and Leo are wondering about us."
Killian took one of Emma's hands in his own, dropping a kiss onto it with a grin that made her wish Red was not standing right there. "I won't keep you any longer. Perhaps I can see you tomorrow though, Emma?"
She glanced toward Red with a hopeful expression that even her mother's hardened friend had to admit was adorable. "I think that Emma will be working with Granny at the pub again tomorrow. You might be able to see her there."
Killian dipped his head to both women, dropping Emma's hand and bidding them goodnight as he turned back to the ship with a military precision that made the princess laugh. "Good night Lieutenant Jones," she called to him only to hear his groan of disapproval.
Thoughts?