Something lurched sickeningly deep within her body. Perhaps it was her soul, as the Devil claimed it? She was surely going to Hell for being fickle and acting impulsively; for favouring adventure over security, and for ruining the hopes of a fine man who deserved far better than she could give him. The trouble with that romantic notion was that, as much as she adored her sweet, sweet Will—loved him with all her heart, she was, admittedly, attracted to the Commodore as well. Only this discovery, this thunderbolt from the blue sky, came practically on the eve of her marriage to Will.

"Damn you, James Norrington," Elizabeth cursed under her breath. "Why did you choose now to be handsome and dashing and heroic?" She hurried back into the parlour where James was resting on her father's settee with a hole in his shoulder, and blood all over his fine white shirt. She all but skidded to a halt; water sloshing over the rim of the bowl in Estrella's hands, as the maid nearly collided with her. The sight of James with his civilian shirt open to the waist, his muscled chest bare save for a thin sheen of perspiration, a sprinkling of dark hair in the centre, caused Elizabeth to momentarily forget that she carried clean cloths for a reason other than scrunching them up in her fists.

Then Estrella whispered, "Miss Elizabeth?" and she came back to herself, sailing the rest of the way into the parlour with head high and heart full of efficient intent. She recklessly dismissed the maid, taking over James's care herself.

"Really, James," she pretended to scold him. "That was singularly the worst thing you could have done when surprising a thief in the act. You should have let him steal my jewellery. Instead, you got yourself pierced like an overripe peach and here you are bleeding all over father's furniture."

Barely twenty minutes earlier James had arrived to speak with her father. Instead he had caught a robber in the act of climbing up to her second story window. The man hadn't a chance, really. James attacked with his sword and quickly had the thief on his back on the ground. Unfortunately, the thief had a knife hidden in his tattered clothing and managed to stab James in the shoulder before he was finally subdued.

"I do beg your pardon, Miss Swann. Next time I shall endeavour to bleed elsewhere. You were, however, the one who insisted I come into the house. I could have easily gone to the doctor in town." She knelt beside him and applied wrung out cloths to the wound. The water in the bowl quickly turned pink, not, she was thankful to note, red. Perhaps it was but a flesh wound after all. She, however, was turning bright red, she was certain of it.

"Nonsense. Why exert yourself in this heat? Will shall be here any moment with the doctor, while you have had the luxury of sitting inside in the relative coolness of the house."

Speaking of heat, the temperature rising off his body was quite distracting. Then she glanced up and was caught in his hooded gaze, his green eyes were darker than usual, mysterious as they regarded her. There was a hint of the pain he must surely be feeling, but mainly what she saw was an attractive man looking at her as if she were an attractive woman. She felt flushed throughout, her cheeks aflame, her lashes fluttering of their own volition like butterfly wings and a smile dimpling her cheeks. Not to mention—she absolutely could not ever mention—the tingling in her stomach and lower, the moist heat creeping into her centre when she gazed upon his male beauty.

Then she saw an answering spark in his expression, one of surprised recognition. His eyes widened, and then he waited. Elizabeth stared back at him, her entire being trembling from the inside out. Suddenly aware of the enormity of the moment she wrenched her gaze away from him, but swiftly sneaked a sideways look. James tipped his head a bit to one side and his serious expression changed. It wasn't completely revealing but she thought she knew what it meant. It was the smile of a healthy male assessing a woman as a potential bedmate.

Where had dear, shy James gone—the man who had fumbled his proposal to her on the ramparts of the fort? This self-assured man was a stranger to her, and she had not a clue as to what to do or say in response to his unexpected confidence. Abruptly aware of the difference in their years and experiences, Elizabeth forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand: cleansing his wound. The bleeding had all but stopped but she continued to dab at it, once again mesmerized by his musculature. She touched the cloth to his chest, all but caressing him with it.

"I was stabbed in the shoulder, Elizabeth," he gently reminded her.

Horrified at her slip she dumped the cloth into the basin of water, splashing them both, and sprang to her feet. Poised to flee, she was halted by a hand around her wrist that tugged her off balance. She toppled into his lap and almost got away with leaping back up again, only to be held fast against him. Her hands were splayed across his chest, as she struggled to get away. It was no use. He was too strong for her. Admittedly, she quickly gave up rather than continue to fight his grip.

Their faces were inches apart. His skin was silk beneath her fingertips. His hands clutched her waist, burning their imprint upon her through layers of clothing.

Elizabeth dropped her gaze to his mouth, drawn to his full lips, which were now parted to allow his breath out. She leaned forward. His eyes were half-shut. Her body now quivered with anticipation of tasting forbidden fruit.

A clatter in the hallway signalled the return of her fiance, presumably bringing the doctor. Elizabeth froze. Fortunately, James still possessed some sense. His hands tightened on her middle and he lifted her off of him with a small grunt, setting her solidly on her feet. She quickly straightened her clothing and grabbed the bowl of tainted water, fixing a warm smile on her face to greet the arrivals. James half-sprawled back against the settee, thankfully pulling his shirt partially closed as he did so. His right hand went to his wounded shoulder, gingerly probing it. Elizabeth worried that he had done more damage to it because of her foolishness.

The doctor examined James's wound, patched him up with a bandage and a sling, and pronounced him only slightly worse for the wear. After praising Elizabeth's efforts at cleaning the wound he ordered James to rest for at least two days. He refused an offer of tea and bid them all good day.

Throughout this, Will stood close by Elizabeth's side. His fingers twisted with hers as he pulled her hand into a firm grip. When she shot him a look he returned a heartbreakingly loving smile, and she took his hand in both of hers, clinging to him, anchoring herself. She tried to make sense of everything that had just happened in the moments before Will's arrival. It was as if, by declaring that she wanted to marry Will, she had somehow freed James from whatever restrictions he had placed on himself regarding his future. Now that she was no longer a part of it in the role he perceived as his wife he was finding out that there were other possibilities. The thing that dismayed her was that he might now become a rake, a libertine. She was certain the possibility had lurked within his eyes—or perhaps her imagination was running away with her again.

"Elizabeth, James," Will's soft voice broke through her musings. "I ran into a friend just now—in the garden. He wanted to know what we needed the doctor for. I..."

"What friend?" Elizabeth asked just as James's eyes fixed on something or someone behind them. She turned. Jack Sparrow stood in the doorway of the parlour.

"Jack! You shouldn't be here!" She moved to get between their pirate friend and his nemesis, James Norrington. Jack warded off her insistent hands as she attempted to shoo him back out the way he had come. She hissed, "Will, what were you thinking? Bringing him here while James is here?"

"He insisted. He wanted to see..." Will began but Elizabeth wasn't listening. She was all but frantic now.

"He can't!"

"It's all right, Liz'beth, darling," Jack tried to soothe her, but she would not be appeased.

"No! Don't you understand? James is here. The Commodore is here." She stepped aside so he could see James seated on the settee.

"Why so he is." Jack leaned around her and waggled his fingers at James who waggled his right back. Elizabeth stared in confusion.

"Hello, Jack. Glad you could make it."

The pirate sashayed over to the settee and knelt on it next to the wounded man. "You were late for our meeting. I came here to find out what was keeping you." He fingered the bloodied shirt. "I take it this looks worse than it is?"

"All sound and fury signifying... well, not nothing. It bloody well hurts, but it's really a flesh wound. I'll be fine." James caught Jack's inquisitive hand and brought it up to his lips to press a kiss to the knuckles. "Now that you're here, I'll be even better."

Jack slid to a sitting position, his right arm going around James's shoulders to pull the other man forward into a kiss that curled Elizabeth's toes. Beside her she heard Will sigh.

When they parted, James looked over at her. "Elizabeth, I apologize for keeping you in the dark. We've been quiet about this for the obvious reasons."

"I, uh, let them meet in the smithy," Will confessed, going scarlet under her frown.

"But now Jack has agreed to work for the Royal Navy as a privateer," James explained, "so no one may question his comings and goings in Port Royal, or the growing friendship between us." He raised one eyebrow at Jack who grinned back at him mouthing the word, "friendship".

"Let me get this straight," she said. "My fiance, my former fiance and our friend, a former pirate, have been hiding a relationship between two of the three. I can understand the need for secrecy in the public, but you could have told me." Her hands went to her hips as she glared at the men in her life. At least her father wasn't a part of this. Or was he? "Does my father know?"

"No!" the three of them chorused.

"Well, that's a relief." Then she realized she was indeed relieved, but about something other than her father's lack of involvement in the clandestine association between James and Jack. Somehow she did not find the situation as difficult to accept as she ought to. Since the day they met on the docks after her fall from the fort wall, she'd been aware of a subtle thrum between the two men. What with undead pirates, a boatload of treasure and James's foiled attempt to hang Jack she hadn't had time to analyze what she'd seen and felt. Now she thought it was right that they had found love with each other. It did not bear thinking about that James had nearly hanged this man who was now his lover, so she shoved that thought far into the recesses of her mind never to be brought out again.

But there was still the attraction between her and James. She met his gaze with a question on her face. Very slowly he shook his head, a regretful smile on his lips. She nodded just as slowly and returned the same smile. Then she swung her husband-to-be's hand between them, pulling him onto the arm of her father's favourite chair as she perched on the edge of the seat.

It felt good and right that her doubts as to her character were put to rest. Perhaps she wasn't perfect, but she wasn't as flawed as she had thought either. Now that she knew the reason for James's newfound confidence all she could feel was genuine happiness for him. He deserved better than what she could offer him.

"So tell me how the two of you got together."

# end