Sparrington Arc, Chapter 5

Trust And Honor

Act III: Thursday

by

The Stowaway

It was too early for breakfast, although he could hear activity at the back of the house. He thought of finding his way to the kitchen, cadging some food from the cook (an art he had perfected as a child; shamelessly using his sweet, wistful smile) and escaping the house before the others arose. It was a momentary lapse, swiftly rejected as cowardice. He would not flee, although he had no idea how he would face Elizabeth. Or Will.

He let himself out the front door and stood at the edge of the veranda, hands folded behind him; looking out to sea. As always, the sight soothed him. He found himself thinking of his sloop; tried to remember the last time he had taken her out. It had been too long, he knew. He recalled when he had bought her, years ago, how he had agonized over a name for her. In the end, fearing to wear his heart so plainly on his sleeve, he had called her the Gull, and not the Elizabeth, after all.

Elizabeth. His thoughts returned to the night just past, in confused shame. Just this once, Elizabeth had been his. The dream of years, come true. Lovely Elizabeth; smooth, tender skin, smelling of lavender; her mouth on his, dainty tongue teasing and promising; the silken heat of her, sinuous and gorgeous, gasping and whimpering; riding him, driving him. His chin dropped to his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut, seeing it all again. Beautiful Elizabeth; sweet and perfect and ...not Jack. Had she heard? He was certain she had. He groaned softly. Surely, he was the most ungrateful wretch alive; to receive such a gift with another's name on his lips. He opened his eyes and sighed. If she hated him for it, it would be no more than justice.

Quiet activity in the house at his back informed him that the servants were about at last. He waited until silence fell again and proceeded to the dining room, where he found breakfast laid on the sideboard. He poured himself a cup of coffee and carried it to the window.

A soft step behind him made him turn and, before he was in any way prepared, Will walked into the room.

Their eyes met. Will's expression was unreadable. James cleared his throat and spoke first. "Will."

"James," Will nodded. He moved to the sideboard and began lifting dish covers, inspecting the breakfast offerings, his back to James.

James put down his coffee cup and wiped his hands on his breeches. "Will, I..." He stopped, at a loss.

Will helped himself to some eggs. "Yes?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder. What he saw in the other's face made him put down his plate and turn. "James." He smiled. "Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Stop looking at me as if you think I mean to call you out."

James blinked. "Do you not?"

Will laughed softly, moving to stand close in front of him. "Of course not, man. Did she not tell you? I knew where she was; what she intended and her reasons for it."

"She did tell me."

"Well then," Will said, "why do you look so perplexed?"

"You let her act on those intentions?"

"Let her? How do you propose I should stop her? You, of all men living, should know as well as I how determined a woman my wife can be when she believes herself in the right."

"But how can you approve?" James asked, confused.

"Because I trust her to deal honestly and honourably with me. And, aside from that," and here Will's smile turned rueful. "What right have I to disapprove, James? A little adventure that never happened caused me to forfeit any such right."

James's smile matched his. "Well, I did tell you not to bring it home with you, didn't I?"

"You did," Will nodded, "but you neglected to tell me how to keep it from a wife who reads one like a book." He shook his head. "She had the whole story out of me within a week. The whole story, James."

"Did she, indeed?" said James, "That would explain something she said, ahhhh, last night." He looked sidelong at Will. "You are certain you don't mind?"

Will sighed and gripped James's shoulders and shook him. "Listen to me, man. I trust Elizabeth. All that she does in a good cause is well done—this I must believe. And I trust you. I trust both of you with the happiness of us all. You will not abuse that trust, nor will she. I cannot say it any plainer than that." And Will pulled him in and kissed him, hard, and let him go. "And that's for remembrance... because we can no longer say it never happened. Now, come have some breakfast before it all goes cold. I am starving."

The chink of silverware and the rattle of dish covers masked the sound of Elizabeth's approach and she stood a moment in the doorway, watching the men fill their plates. She smiled. Dear Will, she thought, has set him at ease. Moving forward, she said, "Is there any left for me?"

"None at all," Will replied placidly, "Latecomers, Madam Slugabed, get rainwater and stale biscuits." He returned her kiss absently, intent upon choosing a slice of ham.

"Oh, unjust," she laughed, standing on tiptoe to kiss James's cheek, turning away before she could see the incredulous relief in his eyes. "I am hardly behind the time. Say rather that you two rose abominably early." She took up a plate, serving herself with fruit, broiled mushrooms, toast and bacon.

When they were seated, she took a sip of her coffee and said, "I am done at last with business, for the time being, thank goodness, and mean to take a holiday. What say you both to a picnic expedition? We could ride up to The Beacon."

They agreed that this was an excellent notion and Elizabeth sent orders to the kitchen. They were barely finished eating when word came from the stables for Will: The lame horse was still giving concern and would it be convenient for Mr. Turner to look in this morning? Will rolled his eyes humorously as he rose from table. "This won't take long. Hitchings is a good man, but he is just a little doubtful of his own abilities. I will reassure him."

Elizabeth looked at James. He was staring into his empty cup with a thoughtful, almost melancholy expression on his face. "James," she said, softly. At the sound of her voice he jumped very slightly and flushed as he glanced up.

"Yes, Elizabeth?"

"Come sit with me on the terrace?"

He rose and offered her his arm. "With pleasure," he said.

"More polite than honest," she laughed gently, taking it and strolling with him down the veranda steps and around the corner of the house. "Come, admit it, my friend. I have hardly been restful companion these past days, with one thing and another."

A tiny smile. "Well, now that you mention it..."

"I have not been toying with you, James. I have a reason for what I do, and it is neither light nor frivolous."

The smile grew. "Dare I ask?"

A gleam of mischief in her look. "You, sir, have faced the cursed undead without flinching. Surely you dare ask."

He was surprised into a laugh. "Don't underestimate yourself. I have reason to know that you are nigh as formidable and every bit as unstoppable when you choose to be."

She chuckled. "Unchivalrous wretch."

"Indeed. Well, then, what is your reason, Elizabeth?"

They had reached the terrace and she led him to some chairs set in the shade. She pulled two of them round to face each other and indicated that he should sit in one, taking the other herself and folding her hands.

"It seemed to me," she said, simply, "that you have become too set in your ways. You wanted shaking up."

"But why now?"

"Because," she said, quietly, "I have seen a copy of the latest dispatch from Admiralty."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh," she replied. "What do you plan to do?"

"I will do my duty," he said, bleakly.

"Even if that duty includes sinking the Pearl and hanging her crew; hanging Jack?"

"Even so." He dropped his head into his hands with a groan. "I am a sworn officer of the Royal Navy," he drew a ragged breath, "and commander of the Jamaica Squadron, such as it is. I must obey orders. Duty and honour (what little is left me) demand no less. I have no choice."

"But what if you do have a choice?" she asked.

"Good God, Elizabeth, don't torture me." He raised his head to glare at her. "What choice have I?"

"Resign your commission."

"What? Leave the Navy and return home in disgrace? Unthinkable." He dropped his head again and his hands clenched in his hair.

Elizabeth sat for a moment marshalling her arguments. She drew a deep breath and laid her hand softly on those restless fingers, stilling them. "First," she said, very gently, "it would not be leaving the Navy. They have already left you."

James sat very still, barely breathing.

"I can read between lines just as well as anyone, James," she went on. "They wish you to resign; it's perfectly clear. Someone, somewhere in headquarters, has decided to end your career. You know how it is done; if they cannot fault your record or subject you to court-martial or discharge for cause, they will make you miserable until you oblige them by leaving. The Navy is not dealing honourably with you. This is a breach of faith that voids your oath of service. Leaving such a master does you no dishonour."

James sighed. His voice was muffled. "That's not what they will think at home."

She tugged lightly on his hair, urging his head up. "Tell me, James. Where is home?"

He looked at her and then away, frowning slightly. "What do you mean?"

She took his hands in hers, leaning forward, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Oh my dear, think! Think of yourself; think for yourself. If the demands of honour were satisfied and your life was your own, to do with as you wished, what would you do? If you could dream anything, do anything; what would it be? Never mind the dreams you were taught to dream; the expectations of family, class, society. What would your heart choose?"

"Elizabeth... I..." he stammered, but she shook her head emphatically.

"No, James, don't answer me. Think. Listen to your heart. And trust what it tells you."

Abruptly, he rose and strode to the edge of the terrace, to stand looking toward the distant ocean; hands clenching and unclenching behind his rigid back. Elizabeth sat for a moment, watching his struggle. Then she stood and moved quietly to his side, her gaze likewise on the sea. Wordlessly, he took her hand and raised it to his lips. They turned to face each other. Elizabeth smiled and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from James's forehead. He kissed her hand again and they turned toward the sea once more.

The groom touched his forelock. "Very good, sir."

After Hitchings had taken himself off, Will remained for a time leaning on the half-door. The mare lipped at some hay before coming over to him. She put her head over the door and nudged him; he scratched her ears. It was very quiet. The stable boys were busy at the far end of the row or in the tack room and most of the stalls were empty, as many of the horses were in the paddock at this time of day. Man and horse stood dreaming in the warm sunlight that poured through the open stable door.

When a shadow crossed the light, Will looked up to see a familiar and unexpected silhouette against the brilliance of the stable yard beyond.

"Turned stable-hand now, have you, lad?"

"Jack?" Will's face lit up. "Jack! It is you!" he cried. Impulsively, he threw his arms around the pirate. "Where have you sprung from?"

"Kingston," Jack replied, smiling as he clapped Will on the back. "Started out about dawn," he handed Will the reins of a rawboned brown gelding, "on this remarkable bit of horseflesh."

Will turned to look the dispirited creature over and shook his head. "Poor thing looks ready for the knacker. Wherever did you find it?"

"Oh, in a paddock," Jack said, airily. "Now that you mention it—it may well have been the knacker's. What with folks locking up their prime cattle every night (a sad, suspicious lot, ain't they?) the pickings were a mite thin."

"And the tack?" Will laughed.

"On loan, you might say, from the Rose and Crown."

"Jack, you are incorrigible!"

Sparrow was indignant. "You don't mean to imply, young Will Turner, that I should lay out my hard-earned brass to pay some careless fool for the use of what's left lying about for the taking, do you?"

"It wouldn't kill you," Will grinned, "and you've plenty of brass."

"Aye, that I do," growled Jack. "And mean to keep hold of it, what's more. You won't catch me wasting the ready."

Will just laughed again, and whistled for a stable-boy to come take charge of the horse, giving orders that it be fed an extra measure grain. "To see if we can't strengthen poor Rocinante up a bit before you have to take him back," he said to Jack, who shrugged and grinned.

They strolled out into the yard and stood leaning on the top bar of the paddock fence. "Or," Jack mused, "I could just trade 'im for one of these beauties."

Will drew breath to expostulate and then caught the glint in the pirate's eye and they both burst out laughing. "Scoundrel," he said, when he had caught his breath.

"Scallywag, if you please," Jack replied.

"Oh, it's good to see you again, Jack," Will said. "Now, look here, I must see Hitchings about the poultice he's using on the mare. Why don't you go up to the house ahead of me? Elizabeth will be so surprised. And James is here, but I expect you knew that already, didn't you?" He cocked an eyebrow and Jack looked smug. "They will most likely be out on the terrace at the east end of the house, unless they are still at table." Will pointed the way. "Will you tell Elizabeth for me that they may as well meet me here when they (and you, too, of course!) are ready to ride? No telling how long I may be delayed."

"Consider it done, lad." And Jack set off in the direction indicated as Will vanished once more into the stable.

And thus it was that Jack Sparrow found them when he came round the far corner of the house. He grinned, sauntered across the lawn and ran lightly down the steps to the terrace, calling out, "Well now, isn't this cozy!" His grin widened as he surveyed their startled faces.

"Jack!" Elizabeth gasped. She rose and came to meet him with a delighted smile.

"In the flesh," he took her hand and bowed over it with a flourish. "Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service." Rising, he kissed her cheek. "Elizabeth, darling," he murmured, grin and eyes glittering, "Surprised to see me?" Without waiting for an answer, he released her hand, and swung round, turning his attention to Norrington.

"Well, James."

James nodded coolly, struggling for composure. "Sparrow."

Jack's eyes widened for a moment before the lids fell again, and his smile turned provocative. "Ah, love, none of that," he said, "No need to go all formal on me, now." And he kissed James, full on the mouth; only letting go his hold when shoved nearly off his balance by an entirely flustered Norrington.

"Jack, for the love of God!" he exclaimed. "Strive for a little conduct!"

But Jack just laughed. "Somehow, mate, I doubt we've many secrets from young Elizabeth, eh, lass?"

She put up her chin at him. "Very few, I imagine, Captain Sparrow."

"There now, y'see? No worries." Jack swayed toward the now thoroughly alarmed James. "Let's have a proper kiss, ay?"

"Sparrow, you are outrageous," James said, coldly, avoiding the pirate's grasp with some loss of dignity. "I can only suppose you are drunk."

Jack looked hurt. "Sober as a judge," he placed a hand over his heart, "word of honour. Not a drop since breakfast in Kingston, and that was bloody hours ago." He turned beseeching eyes on Elizabeth. "Will you be offering me refreshments?"

"Presently," she said, as if to an importunate child. "Meanwhile, stop tormenting James and come sit down. Tell me how it is that you are here, Jack."

His smile grew a little fixed, as if he did not appreciate her interference, but he forbore to comment, seating himself as he was bid.

"Well, love," he began, "I arrived in Port Royal yesterday afternoon only to find that, in the words of your very discreet maidservant, 'Mr. and Mrs. Turner are from home.' And not a word more would she vouchsafe me, notwithstanding my efforts to beguile her with my charm. She didn't like my looks, I daresay. Although I do think calling me a 'down-at-heel ruffler' is coming it a bit too strong," he added darkly, scowling when Elizabeth burst out laughing and even James smiled.

"Be that as it may," he continued, laying his finger next his nose and grinning, "I made inquiries, and soon learnt that Commodore Norrington was gone out of town as well; and where he'd gone, what's more." He cast a mischievous glance at James and observed sweetly, "It's a sad day for the British Navy, innit mate, when a cheeky serving girl can keep secrets better than they?"

Norrington frowned but refused the bait. "Go on," was all his reply.

"Ah yes, well then, having determined my destination, I laid my plans accordingly. I made my way to Kingston last night and spent the evening in, ahem, convivial surroundings. This morning before dawn, I borrowed a horse..."

"Borrowed?" Elizabeth asked, suspiciously.

"Borrowed," Jack repeated firmly, "and with every intention of taking it back."

"I do not want to know more," she exclaimed, flinging up her hands.

"That's right, love," Jack nodded. "The less you know, the less you'll fret. Now, as I was saying, I acquired a horse and rode all the way up here to join your little party." He grinned at Elizabeth. "I hope I'm not intruding," he murmured.

"Don't be absurd, Jack," she laughed. "And this is something new for you, surely? You didn't used to concern yourself with such things as etiquette. At any rate, I trust you know you are always welcome here."

"That's my girl. Ever the gracious hostess. And speaking of which, how about those refreshments you promised, ay? I'm fair parched," he grumbled. "It's thirsty work, riding."

"Poor Jack," she laughed again, "so very out of your element. Come inside, then." They rose and she took his arm. Looking over her shoulder at James, who was once more gazing out to sea, she held out her hand and said, "James?" He started, smiled slightly and offered her his arm. Together the three walked slowly up to the house.

In the library, Elizabeth rang the bell, bidding her guests be seated. James did so, but Jack was perusing the bookshelves with every evidence of delight. He took down a calf-bound volume and inspected it admiringly, running his fingers delicately along the spine and the gilt pages. He opened it, saying, "James, mate, look at this; the Epistles of Horace. A beautiful edition, too. I commend your father's taste, Elizabeth." He cast a roguish glance at James as he put the book back, murmuring, "Now, let me see. Surely there will be a copy of the Aeneid in this collection, as well."

"No doubt there is," James answered, irritated, "most gentlemen's libraries include Virgil."

Jack's eyebrow flew up. "Well, that's put me in my place," he observed dryly.

Elizabeth shook her head at him. His other eyebrow rose to join the first and he made her an ironic, little bow. "Yes, Mama," he murmured softly. Before she could do more, the butler entered.

"Ah, Ward. Some rum for Captain Sparrow, if you please. I will have lemonade. James?" Norrington shook his head and the butler, faintly scandalized at an order for rum so early in the day, withdrew.

Turning to the pirate, she said, "We are going up into the hills for a picnic today." She smiled. "I hope your trip up from Kingston has not given you such a distaste for riding as might keep you from joining us."

Jack groaned and then laughed. "What's another hour or two on horseback, love, between friends? I'm coming along, never fear."

"Good; that's settled, then," Elizabeth smiled again. She looked at James, but he was gazing out the window with a faint line between his brows, apparently oblivious to his companions. Jack meanwhile swung around and continued his inspection of the books until Ward returned with the tray.

"Ah!" he cried, accepting the proffered glass, "nectar of the gods." He raised it to Elizabeth. "Here's to you, Mrs. Turner," he said, drinking deep. "And I'll just take charge of that, my good fellow," he continued as he neatly plucked the bottle from the tray, before Ward could remove it.

"Thank you, Ward. That will do," Elizabeth nodded.

The butler bowed. "Very good, ma'm," he replied, adding woodenly, "I have taken the liberty of sending to the stables to inform Mr. Turner that a visitor has arrived." And the old man beat a dignified retreat to the sound of laughter from Miss Elizabeth's scandalous guest.

"Very careful of you, your people are, Elizabeth."

"Ward has known me all my life, Jack, and you have shocked him. I take it you saw Will when you arrived?"

"I did. He was deep in consultation with the head groom and asked me to tell you to meet him at the stables when you are ready to leave."

"Well, for heaven's sake, why didn't you tell me before?" she asked. She set down her lemonade. "In that case, I must hurry and dress. It won't take me more than a few minutes." And she whisked herself out the door and up the stairs.

Jack put down his empty glass, re-corked the bottle of rum and stowed it in the pocket of his coat. He crossed the room to stand in front of James, who was, seemingly, unaware of his presence.

"Well, mate?"

James slowly turned his head and looked up, unsmiling. He raised his brows in question.

Bending down until their faces were on a level, Jack placed his hands on either arm of the chair and leant forward. "Do I get my kiss now?" he growled softly, and his tongue flickered out to lick first James's lips and then his own. He staggered back as James thrust him violently away.

"Leave off, Sparrow," James snarled. Striding to the window, he stood gripping the sides of the frame and staring out at the ocean far below.

Jack frowned. "What's all this, love? Not happy to see me? You're being a bit uncivil, wouldn't you say?" he asked, moving to stand beside him. "If you ask me, it looks like conduct unbecoming..."

"Don't, " James's knuckles whitened against the dark wood. "Do not say it." There was no mistaking the warning in his voice.

"...an officer and a gentleman," Jack finished.

James groaned. "It wanted only that," he muttered. Seizing Jack by the front of his coat, he slammed him into the wall, eyes blazing. "May God damn you to Hell, Jack Sparrow."

"Oh, He wi..." Jack began, as James's mouth came down on his like a blow.

Jack relaxed into the assault; opening his mouth, tasting blood where his lip had been driven against his teeth. He brought his arms round James's waist but James growled and tore himself away. He paused, saying over his shoulder, "Wait for Elizabeth. I shall meet you at the stables," before flinging out of the door and slamming it behind him.

"Interesting," said Jack to himself, licking the blood off his lip and pouring himself another tot of rum. He sat down and put his feet up. "Very interesting."

A few minutes later, when Elizabeth came back, he was still lost in thought, a slight frown creasing his brow.

"But, where is James?" she asked him, looking around.

"What?" He looked at her pensively for a moment and then shook off his abstraction. "Oh, he went down to the stables ahead of us. Told me off as your escort," Jack replied. He looked her up and down admiringly. "Although, now that I see you in that riding dress, I'm in no hurry." He leant forward suddenly and dragged her onto his lap in a flurry of skirts.

She shrieked as she fell and then began to struggle laughingly as Jack held her round the waist, preventing her from rising. "Jack! These are tavern manners, I think. You madman, let me go!"

"For a kiss," he grinned.

"Don't be ridiculous," Elizabeth scolded, "Let me go! Think how shocked the servants would be to see me like this."

"Sit still, girl," Jack said. "Why would the servants be shocked? I am old enough to be your... uncle. No harm in being kind to an old man. Come on, give Uncle Jack a kiss and I'll let you go, fair and square."

"Pirate!"

"Merci du compliment, Madame, " Jack grinned, undeterred. "Where's my kiss?"

She sighed. "I can see you are determined to be outrageous. There is nothing to be done, I suppose, but humour you and hope the fit will pass." Demurely, she kissed his forehead below the red headscarf. "There. Now, Uncle Jack, will you please be so kind as to release me?"

"Of course, Elizabeth, my dear. Fair's fair." And he stood abruptly, dumping her onto the floor.

She glared up at him. "And what was that for, pray tell?"

Chuckling, he reached down and helped her to her feet. "Such a niggardly kiss, love," he said, shaking his head sadly. "You deserved it. Come now, cry friends." He made her a rather elegant bow and offered his arm.

She took it with as much dignity as she could muster. "Very well: friends. But I still think it was uncalled-for. I gave you precisely what you requested. You, sir, are no gentleman."

He laughed out at that. "Child, you make this too easy. My retort is obvious. Must I say it or may we take it as read?"

Blushing at her slip, she assured him rather hastily that they could allow the subject to drop and he, still chuckling, obliged. They walked down to the stables in silence.

They found Will and James just leading out the horses. The picnic hampers were loaded on the pack horse and the little cavalcade was ready to start. They rode west along the border of the forest at the upper edge of the plateau for a time before taking a trail that climbed, by a series of steep switchbacks, to a large outcropping.

It was called the Beacon because in times past a bonfire had been laid there, to be lit as a signal in emergencies. The fashion of the place was this: a level clearing in the forest, grassy and smooth, extended onto a buttress of rock thrust out from the steep hillside. From the outer edge of the flat top of the spur one could look nearly straight down almost seven hundred feet to the plateau, all of which was visible, laid out to the right and left. A small, lively stream came out of the hills above, ran along the western border of the clearing and cast itself over the edge next to the Beacon in a series of falls.

They dismounted. Will and James unsaddled the horses and, once they were cool, led them to drink and tethered them at the back of the clearing in the shade with grazing in reach. Elizabeth, meanwhile, had pulled a cushion out of one of the hampers and her sketchbook from her saddlebag and sat, with her back to the dizzying drop, drawing the forested knees of the Blue Mountains that rose above them into a cloudless sky. Jack stood at the very tip of the Beacon, hands behind him, staring out to sea.

James came to stand behind Elizabeth, watching her work. He leant down, speaking quietly. "That's very like."

She smiled up at him. "And you, my friend, are a base flatterer. You know I have no aptitude. Do you remember the Italian drawing-master who visited Port Royal the year I turned 15?"

James chuckled. "Indeed. He was rather undiplomatic in expressing his opinion, as I recall."

"He was very blunt, but he spoke truth. Father was furious. No, I draw purely for my own amusement with no pretension to art."

She returned to her sketching and James rose to find Jack watching him with an unreadable expression. They stared for a long moment; then James turned on his heel and strode away. The last thing he needed right now, he thought, was more of Jack's goading. He didn't see the swift frown cross the pirate's face. Jack shrugged and turned back to the sea.

Will was undoing a long bundle that had come up on the pack horse. He grinned at James as the wrappings fell away to reveal their swords. "I thought perhaps we might try to work out that baiser we spoke of at dinner last week. The written description in the treatise was tolerably clear, but there is nothing like seeing a thing to really learn it, don't you think?"

James agreed with pleasure; and they were engaged in picking the smoothest place in the clearing for their practice when Jack called out.

"James, mate, here's a sight." James looked out at the pirate, who held his spyglass in one hand and was gesturing with the other. "You'll want to see this."

"Just a moment," James said to Will and walked out to the point. "What is it, Jack?"

Jack handed him the glass. "Look out beyond Portland Head." As James raised the glass to his eye Jack moved to stand behind him, resting his chin on James's shoulder and pointing. "See her? On the upwind leg now."

"I see her. It's the Relentless. And she has a prize."

"Aye, a fair-sized sloop, looks like."

"Do you recognize it?"

"No. Smuggler, perhaps. I'd not know them."

James collapsed the glass with a snap and handed it to Jack. "Where's the Pearl?"

"Far from here, love, don't you fret."

"That's good." They turned and walked slowly back. James was considering telling Jack about his orders, but he feared Jack might take them as a challenge and precipitate disaster. He drew a breath. "Jack, I..."

Ahead of them, Elizabeth glanced up from her drawing and smiled. Mechanically, James smiled back.

Looking from one to the other, Jack prompted, "Yes?"

No, James thought, not yet. I will tell him later. "Nothing," he said aloud, "Never mind."

Jack shrugged. "Suit yourself, mate." He glanced again at Elizabeth, once more busy with her drawing, and his brow contracted. He seemed about to say more, but remained silent.

As they approached, Will tossed James's sword to him. "Jack, we are going to try to work out a pass we read about in a new treatise on swordplay. They call it le baiser de la mort and claim that, if done right, it's nigh foolproof."

Jack's mustaches stirred in what might have been the hint of a sneer. "Dancing-master tricks? Well, this ought to be entertaining." He flopped to the ground and leant back against the pack saddle, hands clasped behind his head. "Have at it, then. What are you waiting for?"

For an hour or more, they worked at it, tentatively at first, but with increasing speed and confidence. "No, no, at my thrust you parry in tierce." "Got it. En garde." Feint, thrust, parry, riposte. And again. Refining, attempting new defenses, testing. Jack observed closely, rarely taking his eyes off them—for all his implied contempt of the art.

Elizabeth left her drawing and brought her cushion over to sit next to Jack, watching with fascination. "I have wished to learn to fence," she said softly, "ever since I was child; but Will refuses to teach me."

"Is that so?" Jack asked. He glanced sidelong at her. "Well then, why don't you ask James? You two seem to be as thick as thieves these days. Perhaps he will oblige you."

She smiled politely. "Perhaps I will."

When the men broke off for a short rest, Elizabeth fetched the wine from the hampers where they rested in the shade of a large tree at the edge of the clearing. She poured two cups and took them to James and her husband. Will took his with a nod of thanks, drinking thirstily. James smiled at her. "Thank you, my dear."

She poured cups for herself and Jack, but Jack reached into his pocket and drew out his bottle. "None for me, lass. Why drink wine when there's good Somerset rum, ay? Save the wine for yonder dancing-masters." And he took a long pull at the rum.

He called to the fencers, who were once again hard at work, "Have you two perfected this baiser of yours yet? One of you care to try it against me?" He rose, and removed his boots, coat and hat. "Well? James?"

"Against you, Jack?" James leaned on his sword, breathing hard. "Surely you remember how it went last time we sparred. Your boarding cutlass against my sword?"

Jack showed his teeth. "Not this time, mate. Will, lad, you'll loan me your sword for space, won't you?"

"Of course, Jack, if you wish it, but..."

"Ah! No buts about it," Jack interrupted, holding up one finger. He sauntered over to Will, grinning. "You'll just have to trust I know what I'm doing. Now, if you please..." And he held out his hand.

"Oh, very well," he sighed, giving the pirate his sword "but I think you are mad, trying this with an unfamiliar weapon."

"A Turner blade, lad. That's makes all the difference in the world. No worries."

Will shook his head and walked over to stand next to Elizabeth as Jack swung the sword this way and that, getting a feel for its balance. He then saluted James, who returned the gesture. "Alright, love; show me this kiss of death. En garde."

They engaged. Jack pressed his attack, which James parried with ease; his riposte parried by Jack with equal ease. For a time, both fenced cautiously, circling and feinting, each taking the other's measure, searching for an opening. Something was different, James thought, with that part of his mind not concerned with the flickering blades. Jack's style had changed. He had always been fast, but he was more disciplined now, less wild and more calculating. More dangerous. James cleared his mind and settled down to fence in earnest.

Watching the bout from the sidelines, Will had ample opportunity to notice it, too. Jack had been studying, that was obvious. The man was full of surprises, he thought.

The pace increased. Jack began his attack and James was forced, albeit slowly, to give ground. He shifted to his left and counter-attacked, looking for an opening. He thought he saw it—Jack had left his right side uncovered. James parried and thrust. Too quick for the eye to follow, Jack's parry deflected his blade and sent it spinning from his hand. Jack's sword pricked his breastbone and all motion stopped, save for their laboured breathing. "The disarm," panted Jack. James held up his hand and Jack dropped his point. Elizabeth and Will burst into applause.

"That," James said, around great gulps of air, "was remarkable. How did you do it, Jack? I never saw your parry."

Will came up, grinning excitedly. "Nor I. Where did you learn that? I didn't know you'd studied fence."

"Let that be a lesson to you, then. I've always got one more surprise than you expect up my sleeve," said Jack, leaning on his sword. After a moment, he straightened and gave the sword back to Will. "Splendid blade, boy. I mean to get me a Turner sword, one of these days. Might even be willing to pay you for it."

Will laughed. "You had better, you rascal. I wouldn't take kindly to a pirate raid on the smithy. Now, tell me about that pass you used. How is it done? And where did you learn it? Will you teach it to us?"

"Whoa, lad," Jack demurred waving his arms in a warding gesture, "You can't expect me to be telling all my secrets, now. If I teach it to you, what will I use to defend myself if I ever face one of you in all seriousness?"

James looked sharply at him, but the pirate's face gave nothing away. Why had he brought up that old joke now?, he thought.

But Will, oblivious to this byplay, was laughing again. "On that day—should it ever come and let us pray it does not!—I am sure we will discover that you have, as you claim, always one more surprise up your sleeve. Don't be selfish Jack," he coaxed, boyishly, "share the wealth."

Elizabeth joined them. "Jack is looking mulish, Will. I doubt your wish will be granted. Perhaps a meal will soften his heart. Shall we eat? What say you?" They agreed with pleasure.

The men washed off the dust and sweat of their exercise at the stream while Elizabeth began to lay out their picnic. Cold chicken, ham, a salad of greens, crisp rolls with butter, macaroons, fruit tartlets, pound cake, fruit and cheese was arranged on a cloth spread in the shade by the time they were ready to sit down. Will refilled everyone's wine cups and they set to. For a time, conversation languished as everyone attended to the business of eating.

Finally, once their hunger was assuaged and they were nibbling at the cheese or the desserts, Elizabeth looked over at Jack and said, "Well, if you won't teach your new trick to Will and James, the very least you can do would be to tell us how you came to learn it, don't you agree?"

Jack, never reluctant to spin a tale, made pretense to consider her request. "Hmmm, no harm in that, I suppose. Alright then, here 'tis." And he settled himself comfortably on one elbow, looked at his audience and grinned. "Not long ago, I had occasion to, ah, liberate a French fencing master, who was the reluctant guest of a Spanish admiral..."

Will had the most experience of Jack's tales; having, in a least two instances, been present when the events that formed the base of a tale had occurred. He knew, therefore, exactly how much reliance could be placed on the accuracy of the story they were about to hear. Nevertheless, he refilled his wine cup and made himself comfortable with pleased anticipation. Truth be damned, he thought, it's not the point anyhow.

Elizabeth listened with a slight smile on her face. She loved Jack's tales. They took her back to her childhood. Her fascination with all things piratical had worried her father, she knew. And the reality was far different than her imaginings, shaped as they were by the sensationalized accounts she had read in the newspapers from England. She was perfectly aware that Jack likewise was not given to confining himself to facts, but it did not interfere with her pleasure in hearing him expound on the life of a pirate.

James paid scant attention to the story unfolding before him. His own troubles distracted him for once from the rather irritating charm of the pirate's tale-telling. In any case, he had always preferred to watch Jack narrate a story, rather than to listen, lest the lawless nature of the carryings-on so related nettle him into incaution. How Jack loved it when he tried, as he still occasionally did, to expostulate with him. Well, he had no intention of gratifying that enormous vanity on this day.

He tipped his head back, looked up at the cloudless blue. A hawk was circling, riding the breeze; and he watched as it banked and swooped, spiraling now higher, now lower, up and down the mountainside. Three or four wing beats, followed by a long glide. The bird turned this way and that; presenting first its dark back and then its pale, streaked under parts and russet tail to his view. The effortless, graceful flight caught at his heart. He wondered how it felt to be so free; no responsibility, no duty—only the wind and sky; and wings to take one wherever one wished to go. Envy, he thought, disgustedly, and of a witless beast, no less, is beneath contempt.

When he lowered his gaze, he found Elizabeth watching him, her eyes soft with pity. He felt as transparent as glass; a not entirely pleasant sensation. He tried to suppress the little spirt of anger it produced. Unfair to blame her for his agony of mind; she had not put him in this position. Merely, she had made certain parts of his problem unbearably clear. She meant him nothing but good, he knew. He tried to smile, felt himself flushing, and looked away.

Neither he nor Elizabeth noticed that Jack, continuing the saga of the fencing master without a check, had missed nothing of this exchange.

In due course, Jack's story wound to its end. "And so, we put him ashore in Tortuga and commended him to the tender, if rapacious, care of the Governor, who undertook to put Monsieur Barzin aboard the next ship bound for France... for the price of a few lessons, of course." Chuckles sounded. "And that, my dears, is how I came to learn a thing or two from a fencing master."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Poor Monsieur Barzin must have felt himself very ill-used, Jack. First Admiral de Flores y Vega, and then you, and finally Governor d'Ogeron; all taking advantage of him."

Jack laughed at her. "No such thing, love. It was all fair and above-board. I delivered him from captivity and treated him as an honoured guest—what more natural than that he should repay me with the only coin he had; his skill with a blade? And as for the absurd Governor d'Ogeron; you can't expect even such as he to pay M. Barzin's passage without recompense. No, M. Barzin got off lightly; he regained his freedom and kept both his sword and his ability to use it."

"When you put it that way," she replied, "it makes a rather ruthless sort of sense. But still, it's a brutal world you describe, Jack."

"Oh, aye," he agreed, "if you call fair brutal. Nothing goes unpaid for, love. Everything has a price. Everything."

Something in the pirate's tone made Will look up from his wine, but Jack's attention had shifted from Elizabeth. He was watching James's profile.

James, it seemed, was aware of Jack's gaze. His brows drew down and he flushed again, but refused to meet Jack's eyes. Suddenly, he got to his feet and walked quickly out to the point.

Jack rose to follow him, but Elizabeth put out her hand. "No, Jack," she said, softly, "let him be."

He looked down at her, unsmiling, and raised his brows. "You're very meddlesome today, Elizabeth," he drawled, "Why?"

"Only that James has a good deal on his mind just at the moment..."

"Thank you, darling, " he cut her off, "I can see that for myself." And he followed James out onto the spur.

Will reached over and took her hand, preventing her from rising. "Elizabeth, wait."

"But, Will..."

"Shhhh," he gathered her in his arms, pulling her onto his lap. "Shhhh. James can take care of himself; and so can Jack."

Elizabeth looked awhile longer at the two on the point. They were standing side by side, looking out, as ever, to sea; to all appearances amicably.

Will's arms tightened and his voice by her ear sounded amused. "They're fine, wife. I, on the other hand, need care and attention."

She looked at him.

"This is the part where you kiss me," he added, helpfully, giving her his best lost-puppy look.

Elizabeth giggled. "Oh, you are shameless." She took his face in her hands, brought her mouth to his. "So very neglected as you are."

Some minutes later, Will groaned softly. "Elizabeth, if I am not going to shock our friends and take you right here and now, we had better stop."

She wriggled a little, teasingly, and grinned as he groaned again. "Oh very well, but you started it. Here then, help me pack up the picnic things, and I will saddle the horses with you."

"A bargain."

Meanwhile, out on the point, there was silence, but for the rush and splash of the waterfall. James stared straight ahead, frowning slightly. Jack, standing half a pace back, divided his attention between the horizon and James's face. James sighed.

As if it were a signal, Jack stirred and spoke. "Well, mate?"

James dropped his chin to his chest for a moment, sighed again, and looked over his shoulder. "What?"

"What's all this about, then?"

James looked away. Coward, he thought, you daren't tell him. "I can't tell you," he said aloud.

"Can't?" said Jack, an edge to his voice, "Won't, is more like it. Suit yourself." And he turned and walked away.

James, dismayed, took a step to follow, but stopped. What could he say that Jack would accept? He could not lie, and yet he was not ready to tell him about the general order. He knew Jack too well to doubt that it would be like the pebble that starts an avalanche—nothing but disaster could come of it—and so his instinct was to delay, to put off the evil as long as possible. But at what cost? He watched Jack's retreating back, noting absently when the angry stalk became the familiar insouciant swagger as the pirate approached the Turners and hailed them cheerfully. The man was a chameleon. No matter how much he let one see, there was always another mask, another layer of disguise. Although he had been, he believed, privileged to see past more of the masks than most. He almost sighed again but caught himself. Ridiculous habit, smacking of self-pity.

Well, and why not, he thought, glumly. If ever a situation called for self-pity, his did. If he remained in the Navy, he would inevitably be called upon to hang Jack. If he left the Navy, someone else would perform that task. Unless, of course, Jack went down with his Pearl. Either way, Jack was doomed. (Not, he reminded himself, that pirates in general lived long lives, but not yet—oh please, not yet.)

Then, too, if he left the Navy—his home, his place, his life—then what? Where would he go? England would be unbearable, Jamaica scarcely less so; both full of gossip and sly wonderings about his resignation. And what would he do? Set up as a sugar planter? His fortune, a younger son's portion, comfortable as it was for a Naval officer, was insufficient to support such a venture. Go into trade? He smiled wryly. Become a recluse? He shook his head. Elizabeth had told him to listen to his heart, but it was telling him nothing to the point.

He found he had turned back to the sea; a ship captain's habit, always on the watch. He thought again of the Gull. Perhaps a sail aboard her would help clarify his mind—it had worked before.

The sound of his name made him turn once more toward the land. Will waved. "It's getting late," he called, "time we were heading back."

James smiled and waved back without speaking. As he walked back toward the group waiting for him under the edge of the trees, Elizabeth rode out to meet him, leading his horse. Jack and Will, the latter leading the pack horse, had already started down the winding trail by the time he was in the saddle. The ride back to Somerset, in the slanting rays of the westering sun, was quiet.

And Jack. Jack was positively surly, increasingly so as the evening drew on. He was short with Will, subtly cutting to her, and James he simply ignored. Jack was a whimsical creature at all times, subject to bewildering shifts of mood, but not usually like this. She began to think they had quarreled, he and James. She went back over the afternoon, but could think of no point where they would have had the time to discuss James's new orders. So, what had caused this apparent rift? And why was he angry with her, as he seemed to be? If Jack didn't yet know about James's dilemma, then he could not know of her part in worsening his present perturbation of mind. Yet, if he did know about the orders, why would he be angry with James? She looked a question at Will, but he shrugged and shook his head, equally at a loss.

At long last the meal was done, the cloth removed, and the decanters set upon the board. She spoke softly to Ward; he bowed and left the room. As the wine began to circulate, conversation languished.

Finally, Will managed to draw Jack into a rather one-sided discussion of swords; trying to get him to go into specifics about the Turner blade he might someday commission. Elizabeth smiled gratefully at her husband, as he struggled to make Jack's monosyllabic answers into a conversation.

She looked at James, lost again in his own thoughts. "James," she said softly. He looked up, smiling absently. "More wine?" she asked. He shook his head.

"Ah, charming Elizabeth," came Jack's voice, the edge in it unmistakable, "always so very busy and solicitous of everyone's comfort." He raised his glass to her, dark eyes glittering. "Here's to our perfect hostess."

Will put his hand on the pirate's sleeve. "Jack, what is this?"

Jack shrugged him off. "Never mind, lad. Elizabeth knows."

James frowned across the table, but Jack turned his shoulder and looked at her again, mouth sneering.

"Don't you, darling?" he asked.

She pressed her lips together and did not answer. He was clearly longing for a fight, but this was not the time to oblige him. This did not bode well for the private conversation she wished to have with him about James. Well, then, she would just have to bide her time; perhaps an opportunity would present itself tomorrow. Tonight, obviously, was unsalvageable. Time to cut it short, she thought, before her temper slipped its leash and she and Jack quarreled outright.

Elizabeth folded her napkin and glanced along the table at Will. He nodded toward the door. "Well, gentlemen," she said rising, "all the fresh air and sunshine today have made me very sleepy. I think I shall leave you now. I trust you will forgive me for retiring so early?"

James looked up with a slight smile. "Of course, my dear. Get your rest." He rose, and taking her hand, pressed a light kiss upon it. "Good night."

She smiled back at him. "You are such dear friends that I stand upon no ceremony with you."

"Now that you mention it," Will said, stifling a yawn, "I think I shall join you. That is, if you don't mind Jack, James?" He rose and went to take Elizabeth's hand.

Jack lounged in his chair, one booted leg thrown over the arm, his own arm draped across the chair back, his outburst of a moment ago apparently forgotten. He waved his wineglass first at Will and then at Elizabeth. "To bed with you, children," he said. "Waste no worry on old Jack."

She indicated the decanters on the table. "I have sent the servants to bed, but I had Ward set out a tray in the library, if you two would prefer to sit in comfort." She paused, with her hand on the door. "Good night." Will nodded to them and followed her out of the room.

As the door clicked shut, James resumed his seat and reached for the wine. He drank thoughtfully, staring at nothing. There was silence for a time, as Jack watched him. When he reached again for the decanter, Jack spoke.

"That's it, mate. Drink up. Let Bacchus help you shed that Friday face of yours. I'm tired of lookin' at it."

"Are you indeed?" James snapped, "That's easily remedied." He rose hastily and stalked out of the room, crossing the darkened hall toward the warm candlelight spilling from the half-open library door. He heard Jack following but paid no attention, closing the door pointedly in the other's face.

He was at the table, pouring himself another glass of wine when he heard the door open behind him. He stood, glass in hand, staring into the empty fireplace. A soft footfall and Jack's arm reached past him for the decanter. The faint gurgle as the wine flowed into the glass, the chink of the stopper dropping into place, sounded unnaturally loud in the silence. Jack turned and leant back against the table, arms folded, his left shoulder not quite touching James's right, and sipped his wine. Minutes passed; neither man spoke.

"I get the impression," Jack said, at last, "that you're not very happy to see me, James mate."

James put his un-tasted wine carefully on the tray. Leaning on the table with both hands, head bowed, he drew a deep breath and his shoulders slumped as he exhaled. "Having you here does complicate matters, it's true," he replied, softly.

Jack's hand tightened for a moment on the stem of his glass, and he closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were bright and hard. "Easily mended, as you say. No worries, love; I'm off." And he put down his glass and strode to the door.

It was at this point that Elizabeth came pattering silently down the stairs, sure-footed in the dark; in search of the book she had left on the hall table.

Jack's shadow crossed the spill of light from the partially open library door and she halted, suddenly reluctant to be seen.

"Jack. Wait." There was no mistaking the quiet desperation in James's voice. "Don't go."

"Why should I not?" asked Jack, hand still on the door.

There was a pause. "I never meant..." James began and stopped. Then in a rush, "I don't want you to go."

Jack's shadow moved away from the door. "Could've fooled me, love."

Carefully, Elizabeth crept forward until she could see around the door frame. James stood in the center of the room, facing the door, but all his attention was on Jack and he didn't notice her.

"You haven't exactly," Jack continued, "welcomed me with open arms."

James groaned and sat down on the sofa, his head in his hands. "I know, Jack. I'm an ass. It's just so damned complicated; when all I want..." His voice trailed off.

Cat-footed, Jack moved to stand above him, looking down. "What do you want?" His face, in profile to her, told Elizabeth nothing.

James looked up. "You," he said, simply. "God forgive me."

Jack swayed toward him and, in one quick motion, pressed James back into the yielding leather and straddled his lap, knees on either side of his hips. "Convince me," he whispered.

James locked his arms across the small of Jack's back and neatly rolled them over to lie lengthwise on the sofa. He moved up along the lean body beneath him until he could look down into those unreadable dark eyes. "Like this?" he murmured and lowered his head until their mouths touched. As the familiar fire began to lick along his veins, he pressed harder; forcing Jack's mouth open, probing. He bit down on a full lower lip; tugged gently, grinning at the answering sigh. Jack's arms were around him, underneath his shirt; running callused hands down his spine. He ran the tip of his tongue from Jack's ear down to where his neck met his shoulder, stopping there to bite again gently and suck hard, leaving a mark; before moving round to lap at the hollow of his throat. Jack shuddered. "Like this?" James asked again, rocking his hips; hissing as Jack groaned.

Suddenly, Jack bucked, flipping them both off the sofa to land with a thud on the turkey carpet. He smiled; a feral, predatory grin. "No," he purred, "not tonight." Reaching down between their bodies, he grazed his knuckles across the front of James breeches, then rubbed harder—once, twice. "Like this," he said as he bent his head and bit the gasping mouth.

Elizabeth watched in fascination as they kissed; hands wandering, grasping, stroking, bodies moving impatiently. Her body tingled as their growing excitement communicated itself to her. Insensibly, she was drawn forward, inch by inch, the better to see them.

Finally, Jack raised his head, scowling. "Half measures," he muttered, "won't do. C'mere, mate." He clambered to his feet, pulling James up after him. "I want skin."

They stripped off quickly, clothing flung to lie scattered about them. Naked at last, Jack backed James up to the sofa, shoving him lightly until his knees gave way and he sat. "Now then," he said, placing his hands upon James's thighs and parting them, "what have we here?" And he knelt with feline grace between those wide-spread legs.

Elizabeth caught her breath at the beauty of them.

Jack licked his lips and smiled. James touched his face and he pushed against the stroking hand like a cat. Almost purring, his tongue came out delicately, barely flicking the head. James's head fell back at the first touch of Jack's mouth. He sighed as clever lips and a wicked tongue began their maddening work.

Elizabeth bit her hand to keep from crying out as Jack took James, inch by inch, into his mouth; she had never, she thought, seen anything so shamelessly erotic.

James groaned. He wouldn't last long, at this rate. He reached out; wanting—needing—to bury his hands in that wild hair and fuck the scorching mouth that dealt him such exquisite torment.

But Jack, of course, had other plans. Without pausing, he caught James's wrists and pressed them firmly to his sides, against the leather. "Bastard," James murmured. Jack hummed; a pleased sound, that sent a jolt of almost agonizing pleasure through James, who arched his back and whimpered. "Jack, please."

Jack leaned back a little and smirked. "I like the sound of that." He smoothed his hands along James's thighs and up across his belly, pausing to gently pinch his nipples. James's breath caught. Jack moved up to kiss him. "Lie down, love," he breathed.

James stretched himself out full length, eyes closed, and Jack lay on top of him; kissing, tongues tangling lazily. "Jack, you tease. Don't make me beg."

"Oh, very well," a mock grumble, "Hold that thought."

He stood and bent to retrieve from his coat the little flask of oil he seemed never to be without. Straightening, a hint of movement at the door caught his eye as Elizabeth, realizing she had moved into the light, drew back a pace. She froze as his gaze locked with hers, appalled at being found there. She would have fled, but, as if in a dream, she could not make her feet move. Jack's eyebrows rose and he smiled, very slightly. Never taking his eyes from hers, he poured some oil into the palm of his hand. Turning his body so that the candlelight fell full upon him, he stroked himself slowly from root to tip, twisting his grip, until the length of him glistened slickly. Her hand crept to her mouth and his smile widened. James stirred and opened his eyes. "Jack?"

"Right here, love," Jack replied, nudging the other's legs apart and kneeling between them. He leant forward and dragged the flat of his tongue the length of James's erection as his hand found its way down and back, fingers pressing and slowly entering, first one, then the other.

James's hands scrabbled for a hold on the arm of the sofa above his head. He gave an open-mouthed groan and squeezed his eyes shut as his hips snapped downward, avid for more. "Oh, yes," he whispered, "please."

"Ready?" Jack asked, and James nodded. Withdrawing his hand, he placed first one then the other of James's legs over his shoulders. Guiding himself with one hand, he entered, pushing past the initial resistance to sink smoothly to the hilt into the tight heat. They moaned, their voices blending as their bodies merged, inseparable. Elizabeth gasped.

After a breathless pause, Jack moved; pulling back with excruciating slowness and then thrusting forward, rocking them up and back, up and back. There was no sound in the room but the creak of the leather and their panting breaths; James's with a little catch each time Jack drove home.

James could stand no more. His hand left its grip on the sofa and reached down to take hold of himself. But Jack stopped him; pinning his wrists above him with all his wiry strength.

"Mine," Jack growled. He thrust again, hard, and James whimpered. "Say it."

"Yours."

Jack looked up, straight at Elizabeth. The black gaze was triumphant. Another slow, deliberate thrust. "Again."

"Oh God, Jack, please. "

"Open your eyes," he rasped, "and say. it. again."

The green eyes beneath him flew open, huge and dark. "I am yours."

Elizabeth turned and fled.

"Mine," Jack agreed. And he took James in his hand, stroking roughly—once, twice, three times—and they climaxed with a cry that followed Elizabeth up the stairs and rang in her ears long after she regained her room.

James woke before dawn to an empty bed. He stretched and yawned and rolled over into the hollowed covers still faintly warm with the scent of pirate. Not gone long, then. He wondered, idly, what mischief Jack could get into at this hour, but gave it up as a hopeless task. Who could predict? He stretched again and burrowed contentedly, suffused for the moment with well-being. He dozed.

Some time later, when dawn was pink in the sky and he was just shrugging into his coat, there came a knock at his chamber door and Will stuck his head in, grinning conspiratorially. "Ah, good," he said, "you're dressed. Come on, then. Hurry!" And he took James by the arm and began to haul him toward the stairs.

"What is all this?" James tried to free his arm but Will stuck fast.

"We're going fishing. Must step lively if we're to catch the last of the morning rise."

"But..."

"No time," Will said, hustling him out the front door.

"Breakfast?" James asked.

"No time for that, either," replied Will, dragging his disconcerted companion toward the stables. "I had Cook pack us a basket. It's in here, with all our tackle," he said, ushering James into the tack room.

"Will Turner, what are you about?" James demanded, shaking free at last and folding him arms. "I shan't take another step until you tell me."

Will grinned, unabashed. "Can we just say I have a sudden desire to fish and leave it at that?"

James glared at him. "You are very like Jack Sparrow, on occasion."

"Thank you," Will beamed.

"That was not a compliment. Now, if you please, what is going on?"

"Alright, then, if you will have the truth with no bark on it," Will shrugged, "I wish Elizabeth and Jack to fight and get it behind them, which they will not do if you and I are in the way."

"You wish them to fight," James was incredulous.

"I do," Will nodded. "Good Lord, James, do you desire to live through another day like yesterday, with storm signals flying and everyone on edge?" James shuddered eloquently, and Will barked a laugh. "Nor I, I thank you. I would have peace in my house. And with those two, peace will only come after they settle accounts."

James looked dubious. "Jack is in a dangerous mood, Will."

"No more so than my wife," Will chuckled. "Jack hasn't crossed swords—metaphorically speaking, of course—with Elizabeth in some time. He is about to be surprised, I'll wager. Don't worry, my friend, I have no fears for either of them. They will settle their differences with no serious harm done on either side."

Will handed him a rod and creel before taking up his own. "Trust and honour, James, remember?" He bent to retrieve the breakfast basket and led the way out the stable door and across the dew-frosted lawn toward the river.

He found himself in a large pleasant room, richly furnished in the style of about ten years back. The bed, of dark wood heavily carved, stood out from one wall, the brocade hangings drawn back. Over against the window were placed a pair of wing chairs and a small table. Before the other window, a delicate writing-desk. The door to the dressing room was ajar and he could hear voices.

"Thank you, Betsy, that will be all."

"Very good, ma'm," came the reply. Jack ducked behind the hangings of the bed just as the dressing room door opened. Once the maid was gone, he slipped out of hiding to lock the door into the corridor behind her. With a smile not entirely pleasant, he turned and trod across the thick carpet.

Elizabeth sat, half turned away from him, at her dressing table. She was trimming her fingernails with a pair of tiny scissors and did not see him lounging in the doorway, arms crossed; the sardonic smile still in place. She was wearing a sprigged gown with a tiny ruffle at the low, square neckline and her hair was done up loosely, revealing the lovely line of her shoulder and neck as she looked down at her hands.

She was thinking of the night just past.

Returned to bed, she had clung to Will, trembling. He had been startled, even a little alarmed until she told him, in halting words, what she had seen through the library door. He had relaxed then, holding her close, rubbing her back soothingly and murmuring understanding in her ear. "Were you shocked?" he asked.

"I was," she said, "but not in the way you think. Will, they love each other! To let that love end on the gibbet at Port Royal would be unbearably wrong."

"So what do you think of your plan to help James, now, my dear?"

"Oh, I am more determined than ever. They are too stubborn and set in their ways (especially James) to help themselves. They need someone to show them the way out of this tangle."

Will had chuckled fondly, "That someone, of course, is you?"

"And why not?" she asked, "I see the problem; I believe I see an answer to it. James is almost there; I have made him think, at least. Jack, on the other hand..." She fell silent a moment. "...is being vexing." Will had laughed at that and she sighed. "Oh very well, he is being perfectly infuriating."

"Have you considered, love," Will said gently, "that Jack might be jealous of your influence with James?"

She was astonished. "Jealous? Great heavens, why? Surely Jack knows James loves him! After what I saw of them tonight, I can hardly believe he could doubt it."

"Nevertheless."

"I think you are mistaken. But, be that as it may, I shall make him see reason, Will, mark my words."

"Consider them marked," he said. And he had kissed her, neatly ending the conversation and giving her thoughts a more pleasurable turn.

Setting down the scissors, she picked up a chamois to buff her nails. Knowing a thing exists, she reflected, is altogether different than seeing that thing for oneself. She was still a little shaken by the force of what she had witnessed between Jack and James; it was so far beyond what she had imagined. She felt almost shy of facing them, but she must. Indeed, with James and Will gone fishing (and she didn't doubt for a moment that it was Will's doing, bless him) now was the perfect time to deal with Jack. Alright, then, she thought, putting the chamois down, now for it, no putting it off. She took a last look in the mirror; biting her lips and pinching her cheeks for color; girding herself for battle.

"Lovely," Jack said, startling her nearly out of her chair, "but then, you always are, Elizabeth, my sweet."

She whirled to face him. "Jack! How long have you been standing there?"

"Since your maid left," he showed teeth, "long enough to know you are up to something. It's quite informative to watch you when you are thinking, you know."

Elizabeth stood to face him, a little breathless from the fright he had given her but resolved not to show it. "And what, if you please, are you doing in my dressing room?" she asked, haughtily.

The glinting grin widened, but still didn't reach his eyes, as he unfolded his arms and stood away from the doorframe. "Seizing the opportune moment so conveniently provided by your husband, madam." He glided forward one step; another.

She locked her knees; stood her ground. He was trying to unnerve her, she knew; but she refused to let him see it was working. Still stalling, she said, "Captain Sparrow, this is most improper. What if my maid comes back and finds you here?"

"Most improper," he mocked, a flash of genuine amusement in those cold eyes. "In my opinion, Mrs. Turner, impropriety should be your middle name. And I took the simple precaution of locking the door; the servants will not be disturbing us." Another step.

It was, she thought, like being stalked by a leopard; the unwavering gaze, the slow, implacable advance. Involuntarily, she backed a pace. This conversation was not proceeding as she had planned. Damn Jack for being difficult. She decided to change her tactics.

Steeling herself, she went to brush past him, but he moved quickly to block the door into the bedroom. "Jack, don't be ridiculous! Let me pass." She looked into the dark face so close to her own. For an instant, so quickly she was not sure she hadn't imagined it, his eyes blazed at her with a mixture of anger and something else she couldn't quite name. And then the mask was back in place. His smile grew hard.

"So you can run off and leave me all forlorn?" he drawled, "I think not."

His jibe stiffened her spine. She raised her chin and smiled coolly, "I have no intention of leaving; I merely wished to sit down in comfort. In fact, I have been wanting a private chat with you, Jack, without interruptions. This, indeed, seems to be the opportune moment."

Jack's smile held real warmth this time, but no less mockery. "That's the spirit, love," and he moved aside to let her pass, strolling after her to the chairs by the window. "Chat away, I'm all ears."

She sat down and waited while he did the same. Now that it came to it, she was at something of a loss as to how to begin in the face of his clear hostility. "First, Jack, tell me why you wanted to talk to me."

"Losing your nerve again?" A flash of malice. "Very well then, darling, I will come right to the point. What's this all about, ay? Just what sort of game are you playing?"

"It's about James," she said.

He nodded. "It most certainly is," was all his reply.

"And it's not a game."

"Well, if it's not a game, then it's serious," he said, "and for the life of me I can't imagine what you think you will gain by it."

"What I will gain...? Jack, what on Earth do you mean by that?"

"Oh come now, darling, I am neither blind nor stupid. What are you up to? He's besotted."

She shook her head, aghast. "No, no, you are wrong. It is not what you think."

"Is young Will not man enough for you, after all, that you must take James for a lover?" he taunted, "Or are you thinking of leaving him and becoming Mrs. Commodore, after all? You'll catch cold at that, I assure you."

"Jack! Stop it!" she cried, appalled at the turn this was taking. Will had been right; Jack was jealous. She leapt up and turned away, her hands over her ears. "I will not hear you."

He surged out of his chair and grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning her round to face him. Taking her wrists in an ungentle grasp, he pulled her hands roughly down.

"By God, you will," he growled harshly, "Why, Elizabeth? Was it revenge? I'd had your Will and you took James to settle the score?"

"Don't be idiotic! I am trying to help him, to help you both." She cried, twisting her wrists to get free, but his grip tightened brutally.

"Help him? How? Why?" he demanded.

"Help both of you," she said. "Because I love him."

Jack's eyes went bleak for a moment. "You love him."

"Yes, of course I love him, you fool! Just as I love you." She stopped as if she had bitten her tongue, flushed scarlet and turned her face away. She hadn't meant to let that slip. Damn Jack Sparrow, she thought, damn him. There was a pause. Elizabeth wanted to sink through the floor. If he laughs, she thought, I will hit him.

Jack cleared his throat. "I fail to see," he said deliberately, "how you think you are helping by fucking my James," Her head whipped around, eyes wide with shock. "Yes, my James. (It's time we spoke plainly, Elizabeth, if you please, just between us.) For he is mine, and none of yours. If you hurt him, you answer to me. He and I have managed our affairs quite neatly for over five years without your help. Why are you interfering now?"

"Because, you bloody, arrogant bastard," she hissed, "your James is placed in an impossible situation, thanks to you and your foolhardy cat-and-mouse games. Did he tell you of his new orders? No? I thought not." She jerked her hands free and stalked over to the desk by the window and drew a folded paper from the drawer. "Read this. Father gave it me." And she turned her back on him to look out the window.

The rustle of unfolding paper was followed by silence as he read. Then, "I see."

She turned, smiling grimly. "I'm sure you do. Once those orders are posted, Jack, you and the Pearl will have nowhere to hide. Every Navy ship, every privateer will have but one goal—your capture. The hunt is up."

Jack grinned toothily. "Well, love, this old fox has a few tricks left in him, as the hunters will see before long."

"Oh, spare me the swagger and boast," she snorted. "Plain speaking between us, remember?"

"Aye, lass," he replied with another grin, "but it's a part of me; bone deep. Too late to change now." He held out his hand, "Alright, then, you've got my attention. Now come, sit down and tell me this helpful plan of yours." He held up an admonitory finger. "No promises, mind," he added as she resumed her seat with a lift of her chin.

"Well," she said, "my idea was to cause James to question his assumptions." She glanced at Jack, who nodded.

"I've read the philosophers," he said.

"I thought you might have," Elizabeth said. "You hide your light, Jack, but you don't entirely fool me, you know. Now then, I have been trying to get James to think about what he truly desires. For one thing, he realizes that it's no longer me that he wants. Nor Sarah-Ann, for that matter." Jack looked a question. "She proposed to him last week." He chuckled. "Nor any 'fine woman.'"

"Does he now?" murmured Jack, clearly amused. "Dare I ask how you can know this?"

She slanted him a look. "That you have already guessed, but you become so surly at the thought that we will move on, if you please. Suffice it to say," she added with a tiny smile, "the name he barely stopped himself from uttering at the crucial moment was not mine."

"Fair enough," he laughed. "Say no more. Next point?"

"He now looks askance on the idea of retiring to England to become a country squire."

Jack looked startled. "Did he ever entertain such a notion?"

It was her turn to be amused. "Of course he did. Persons of his class 'always' go home to England at the end of their service. Did you never discuss it?" she asked, expecting no answer. Nor was she disappointed. Jack sat mum, frowning a little and staring out the window. Presently he turned his attention back to her.

"Is there more?"

She nodded. "I have urged him to resign his commission."

"You what? Elizabeth," Jack shook his head, "you're mad, lass."

"Don't be too certain of that, Captain Sparrow," she replied with a tight smile. "The Navy has behaved dishonourably toward him—you can see evidence of it in that paper; therefore, he can choose to free himself without shame. Whether he does so or not depends, I believe, upon you."

"Explain yourself."

"Piracy is all but finished; you and the Pearl are all that's left. Sooner or later, they will take you and hang you." He shrugged and she frowned at him. "Stop it, Jack. If James is forced to hang you it will destroy him. And think of my daughters, of Will ...of me. And what of your crew? Listen to me. The wild days are done and civilization has closed in. The Caribbean is not for you, not anymore. Go. Chase the horizon. Take him and go, Jack. For all our sakes."

"'Take him and go.' Just like that, ay? What makes you think he'd come with us?" Jack scowled, but she could see a glint in his eye, as the idea took hold.

"Have you ever asked him?" she replied.

"I haven't," he admitted. "Nor shall I." He flung up a hand as she made an exasperated sound. "No, not another word. I have a notion." He grinned, "And you'll just have to trust me to manage without your help." She rolled her eyes and sighed.

He stood, taking her hand and drawing her up with him. "Now I've a question for you, since we're in a truth-telling humor today. What do you get out of this, Elizabeth?"

"My husband," she replied promptly, "heart-whole and safe at home; no longer tempted by the lure of the pirate life." Baring her teeth in a diamond-hard echo of his own grin, she continued, "For he is mine, and none of yours, Jack Sparrow."

He threw back his head and shouted with laughter. "Touché, darling," he said. "I'll wager you've not told Will that part of it, have you?" He laughed again at the admission he read in her face. "What a pirate you'd have made. Ruthless, clever and beautiful; a potent combination." Still smiling, he drew her into a warm hug, which she returned with interest.

They stood for a moment, each enjoying the rare pleasure of being in accord with the other, until Jack spoke again, his lips moving against her hair. "I've another question, love," he murmured.

"Mmm?"

"Where's my kiss?"

She pulled back far enough to look at him, laughing a little. "You never give up, do you?"

"Not until I get what I want," he said, running his hands softly up her arms, "no more than you do. Peas in a pod, darling. Remember?"

She nodded, eyes steady on his.

"Let's see now." His hands left her shoulders to run up into the mass of golden brown hair and with a gentle flick that spoke of much experience, he loosened the pins that held it and brought it cascading around her shoulders. "There. More like my island girl."

She blushed. "Jack! We agreed never to mention that."

"Just between us what can it hurt? Rules change, love," he said, "as the reasons for them change."

"And what has changed?" she asked, a little breathlessly, to keep him talking.

"Why, our new fashion in truth-telling, of course. It's all in the choices we make. Back there on the island, you chose to tell yourself you were bribing me to cooperate and I chose to let you think I believed you."

Her hands flew to her face. "Oh! I was so very young."

"Adorably so, love. And yet, very nearly as dangerous as you are today," he grinned. "Truth was, you wanted a pirate and I wanted a girl."

"It was a long time ago, Jack."

"Aye, but I haven't forgotten. Nor have you, it seems. Now, one more time; where's my kiss?"

She looked at him for a moment, mouth serious, but with a telltale pulse fluttering in her throat. He stared back solemnly, his eyes daring her. She placed her hand on his chest and slid it very slowly up along his throat and around under his hair, long fingers light and cool on his neck. Raising herself slightly on her toes, she licked her lips and pressed them, half open, against his mouth. He didn't respond and she drew back, the beginnings of a puzzled frown on her brow. But then she caught the glint, hastily suppressed, in his eye and almost laughed. Perverse creature, she thought, we'll just see about that. She settled back on her heels and brought her other hand up to tangle in his hair, drawing his head down to hers and running her tongue swiftly along the seam of his closed mouth. She felt his lips twitch into the ghost of a grin and smiled to herself. Seizing his lower lip in her teeth, she nipped sharply and, on his 'Ah' of surprise, she plunged her tongue into his mouth. His came to meet hers and they stroked and glided and played languorously. His arms were around her and she melted into him, lost in the kiss. When at last they came up for air, both were breathing quickly. They stood, foreheads pressed together, smiling a little. Then she leaned back in his embrace and met his eye.

"Satisfied?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you're a greedy pirate."

"Kindred spirits, my dear. And I think that's just what you can't resist about me."

Elizabeth raised one eyebrow. "Convince me."

Jack laughed silently. "Child," he said, "did no one ever tell you to be careful what you wished for?"

"That sword cuts both ways, my friend."

"Better and better." He dipped one finger into her bodice—she shivered at the brush of his knuckle against her breast—and drew forth the laces of her gown. Undoing the knot with careful attention, he loosened them until he could slide the neck of the dress off her shoulders. Then, with a steady pull on the ruffled lace at her elbows, the gown slid down with a sigh of heavy silk to lie in waves about her feet. He took her hands as she stepped over it clad only in her shift.

"Neatly done," she approved.

He kissed the backs of her hands, turned one over, and pressed his lips to the pulse that beat there. Her eyes widened as the tip of his tongue drew fiery little arabesques on the tender skin. Slowly she raised his other hand, ran her tongue down his index finger, drew it into her mouth. She let it slide back out, slipping wetly past her lips against gentle suction, before taking it in again with the tiniest scrape of teeth. "That," he whispered, and she was pleased to note his voice shook, "had better not be an empty promise."

She wrapped her tongue around his finger once more and sucked hard as she let it go. "I might say the same."

"Trust me," a glinting grin, "Now, come here." Pressed together, they stood, hip to hip and mouth to mouth; his hands resting on the swell of her hips, hers busy with the buttons of his breeches. He kicked them away as they dropped. Gathering her shift in great handfuls, he pulled it up as she wriggled out of it. His shirt was the last to go. "Finally."

He led her to the bed, but when he would have laid her down, she pressed her body against his, until he was half-sitting. "Not just yet," she smiled. She wrapped one leg around his, urged his feet apart and stood between them. Still pressed against him, she sank; voluptuously rubbing her breasts against his chest, his belly, his groin; trailing kisses along the scarred and tattooed skin. On her knees, she took him in hand, cupping and stoking; feather-light, teasing touches.

"Elizabeth," he whispered and she laughed, a tiny sound that puffed moist air, scalding hot, across the sensitive flesh. He shuddered.

She ran the very tip of her tongue along the length of him, prodding gently at the slit, savouring the salty musk. Taking just the head into her mouth, she laved it and let it slip free again. "Wench..." Jack growled. He cut off abruptly on a long sigh as she relented and took him in earnest. He leant on his arms, head fallen back, breath ragged. She closed her eyes, the better to relish the pleasure of it; texture, like rough silk, against her lips; weight upon her tongue, pressure against the back of her throat. Sucking hard, she drew back, stroking and probing. Quicker now, she took him again, lips tight around him; and back, and again. She moaned faintly and felt him leap against her tongue. Intent upon her own sensations and the ones she created in him, she worked him, with infinite care, nearer to the brink.

After a timeless interval, she felt a touch upon her hair as he cupped her skull gently, fingers twitching. Pulling back, without letting him go, she opened her eyes and looked up. As their eyes met, he groaned and his fingers tightened. His legs were trembling with the effort of holding still and she was touched by his consideration. Deliberately, she let go of him, braced her hands against the bed and nodded. "You darling," he breathed, and began to move. It didn't take long, so close had she brought him, for him to spill himself with a groan down her throat. She swallowed eagerly, lapping him gently clean before letting him slip at last from her mouth.

She rose into his arms and Jack kissed her as he tumbled them both onto the bed. She landed half on top of him and raised herself to look down on his face. Her eyebrows rose. He chuckled and brushed his thumb lightly across her lips. "I am undone," he murmured, "No need to ask where you learnt that, I suppose." It was her turn to laugh.

"I should think not," she smiled. "Are we so alike, then?"

"In certain particulars," he nodded. He tangled his fingers in the locks of her hair tickling his chest and grinned as he drew her mouth down to his. "Now," he said, as he kissed her, "it's my turn."

Lithe as a cat, he slipped out from under her until she lay, face down on the cool linen, with him stretched out at her side. He ran his thumb down her spine and she undulated at the touch with a pleased sound. With the flat of his palm he stroked upwards to her shoulders, parting her hair and leaning over to bite at the nape of her neck. She sighed. Rising to his knees, he kissed his way across her shoulder blades and slowly down her back, sucking gently at each vertebra in turn. At the small of her back, he paused, licking and then sucking hard. "Mmmmm..." she hummed with pleasure, "Jack..."

"Turn over," he whispered. She did so, smiling up at him through half-closed eyes. She raised her arms above her head on the pillows and stretched like a cat. "That's it, love," he grinned, "get comfortable. Better 'n sand, innit?"

She giggled. "Don't remind me! For days afterward I kept finding sand in the most awkward places... ahhhh!" She gasped as his mouth closed on her nipple. "Jack..." She reached for him but he eluded her grasp.

Suddenly, he laid himself down on top of her, pinning her wrists with his hands and her legs with his own. "Still my turn," he said, and he took her mouth with a concentrated intensity that left her breathless. Everything that was Jack, he put into the kiss; wild, reckless, sensual. Like others before her, she felt as if a hurricane had her in its grip. Raising his head, he smiled slowly. "There, now. You stay put." She nodded. "Good," he said.

Releasing her wrists, he turned his attention again to her breasts, kneading them gently and sucking first one and then the other. She arched into his touch, sighing. He worked his way from there down her body, licking and nipping at each curve and hollow, making a leisurely survey of every inch of her. As his thumbs smoothed over her hip bones and his tongue left her navel to wander further down, she stirred in anticipation. She felt him grin. "Patience, love."

He knelt between her thighs, which parted eagerly at his touch. Sitting back, he took her ankle in his hand and folded her leg up toward her body, until he could bring her foot to his mouth. He nibbled lightly on her toes and pressed a kiss into the arch before moving up along her calf to the hollow behind her knee. From there, his lips traced a wandering path up the inside of her thigh, stopping just short of her hip. She stirred again, only to hear him chuckle as he reached for her other ankle to begin the same unhurried exploration. "Tease," she complained.

"Aye," he said, between kisses, "Fair's fair. Now hush." He took his time, lingering over her foot; kissing each toe in turn, the arch, the instep, the ankle bone and so, slowly upward. He watched with amusement as her impatience grew; her eyes were closed, her brows a little drawn down, her lower lip caught in her teeth as she sighed.

At last, he let her leg fall back to the bed and ran his hands lightly up her thighs, running his thumbs over her hip bones once again, holding her still with one hand as he entered her with two fingers of the other. She arched her back, moaning as he stroked her, fingers curling; making her writhe. When he added a third finger, she cried out and her hips came up off the bed.

He stretched out between her legs and lapped gently with his tongue. Her breath went out in a shuddering gasp. Jack licked her again and again, teasing and flicking in wicked counterpoint to the pace set by his fingers, driving her closer to the edge. She whimpered, half out of her mind; trembling and panting; begging for release. At last his hand sped up; his tongue fell into the same rhythm and she screamed, muffling her cries against her arm.

Then he was there beside her, gathering her into his arms and she clung to him as little aftershocks of pleasure thrilled along her nerves. He rubbed her back and kissed her hair. She heard amusement in his voice when he said, "Who's undone now, eh?"

She was shaken by a little gust of laughter. "Be careful what you ask for, isn't that what you said? Jack, that was..."

"Is," he corrected her. She looked at him, puzzled. "We're not done yet, love," he chuckled, taking her hand and sliding it down his belly. Her eyes went wide.

"Jack," she gasped, as she encountered hardening flesh, "you are insatiable."

"And you, darling, are inspiring." One arm swept out to imply a bow and he smirked.

"Very gallant," she snickered, "But since, as I suspect, you are inspired by anyone at all who shows the least flicker of interest, the compliment is somewhat lost upon me."

Jack scowled, making her laugh outright. "Cruel, heartless wench, you are," he grumbled, "and rude, as well."

"Ah, but for all my faults," she purred, stroking him, "I have two things in my favour: I am here and I am, ah... interested."

Jack's frown vanished. "Good points. Well, that's alright, then," he said briskly. "I shall have to make do." He rolled on top of her and grinned. "Any port in a storm, ay?"

"Indeed."

He settled between her legs and she angled her hips expectantly to meet him. After the briefest of fumbles, he entered her with a soft groan. She sighed happily and wrapped her legs around his waist. He braced himself on his arms as they began to move, she rising to meet his thrusts; each watching the other's face, noting the shifts of expression as their excitement rose again.

Jack dipped down to kiss her and she bit at his tongue. His hair fell to either side of her face—trinkets jingling and brushing against her cheeks—creating a warm and moving darkness in which his eyes gleamed at her. "Good?" he asked.

She nodded, not trusting her voice. As he raised himself again, she clamped down, closing herself around him like a hand. His eyes rolled up into his head.

"You devil," he gasped, back arching as his hips snapped forward. He sped up and she kept pace; clenching and releasing around him, making them both whimper.

Suddenly, Jack twisted against her and her legs, slipping sweatily, lost their grip on him. Never breaking stride, he clasped her ankles and raised them above her, legs stretched high and wide, pounding into her with his full weight.

It was too much. Her head snapped back. "That's it," he growled, "come for me, love." And she cried out in ecstasy; hands clutching at the sheets as she shook and gasped. She was barely conscious of it, when moments later his hoarse cry followed hers.

He collapsed beside her, breathing hard. "I'm getting too old for this," he panted.

Elizabeth rolled over lazily and rested her head on his shoulder. "Manifestly untrue," she mumbled.

Jack chuckled. "At any rate, I'm too tired to argue the point." He put his arm around her. "Time for a bit of a nap, eh love?" She nodded, and they fell contentedly silent, but for the deep, even breaths of sleep.

James shook his head and smiled. "No, I don't think so," he said, "At least, it didn't look that way to me. But then, he did catch me quite by surprise."

"Well, at any rate," Will replied, "I mean to see if I can't wheedle the secret out of him today."

"Good luck to you," James laughed, "Jack dearly loves his secrets."

Will chuckled. "Oh, that's very true. We'll see if his love of being mysterious is a match for his love of showing off."

"Now, this ought to be interesting to watch."

They had reached the house and were setting down their fishing tackle in the hall when Ward came out of the dining room. "Ah, Ward." Will handed him both creels. "These are for Cook," he said, "with our compliments."

The butler bowed. "Very good, sir. Mrs. Turner and Captain Sparrow are in the dining room. Luncheon is served."

"We will join them, then. Thank you, Ward."

Will cocked an amused eye at his companion as the butler carried their catch back to the kitchens. "They're in the same room," he said quietly, "that bodes well." He sniffed carefully. "And no gunpowder in the air. Nor yet sulphur and brimstone. What do you say? Shall we risk it?"

"Really, Turner, how you can jest about it is beyond me."

Will shrugged and grinned. "What would you have me do? Worry myself into an early grave? She and Jack were hardly likely to do each other any real harm. Although," he rolled his eyes, "if you could have heard her last night, after we went upstairs, you might have doubted that. Furious, she was. And bloodthirsty. You would have thought her father was the pirate, instead of mine."

James shook his head. "Let's get it over with."

Still grinning, Will led the way. He opened the dining room door, saying cheerfully, "Here are the truants, back again."

Elizabeth turned, smiling, "Will, James, how lovely!" She presented her cheek for Will's kiss as James bowed over her hand. "And you have shown your usual cleverness in returning just in time for a meal. Jack was wondering if we should send out a search party."

Will laughed and clapped the pirate on the shoulder on his way to his chair. "No worries, Jack. Once the fish stopped biting, we went for a swim, that's all. Wouldn't dream of missing lunch." He winked at his wife.

Jack looked dubious. "Wouldn't dare to, is more like it, lad," he sighed. "It's my belief you live under the cat's foot." This with a wicked glance at Elizabeth, who wrinkled her nose at him before turning to James, who had just seated himself on her right hand.

"How was the fishing? Did you have good sport?"

"Very good, actually," he replied, "Will sent our catch to your cook."

"Ah, then, I shall look forward to having some of it at dinner."

They busied themselves with their meal, and there was a short silence. James glanced at Elizabeth, who was smiling as she passed a dish to Jack. He noted with relief that Jack's expression as he thanked her was perfectly pleasant. He allowed himself to relax slightly; the air did indeed seem to have cleared. Will caught his eye and raised his brows, in a silent "Well?" and James almost laughed at the somewhat smug "I told you so" look on the younger man's face. As he turned back to his plate, he found Jack watching him with thoughtful eyes. He returned the regard steadily and, after a moment, Jack winked at him and returned to eating.

"Well, gentlemen" Elizabeth put down her fork, "and pirate," with a little mocking nod at Jack, who raised his glass with a grin, "what shall we do this afternoon?"

"What did you have in mind, my dear?" Will asked.

"I was thinking of going for a ride," she said "A lovely, long ride," she added and burst out laughing at the look of pain on Jack's face.

Will and James chuckled. Jack's eloquently expressed distaste for equestrian exercise was a never-failing source of amusement.

"Oh, come now, Jack," she coaxed, "it's not as bad as all that. Horses are not, whatever you might think, inventions of the devil."

"You will never convince me of that," Jack groaned. "Very well then, I propose a compromise. How about a lovely, short ride and we do something else with the rest of the afternoon?"

"I might agree to that," Elizabeth said, "if the 'something else' were sufficiently amusing."

"I know," Will said, cunningly, "you could teach me that pass you used yesterday, Jack. Would that do, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth considered, her eyes dancing. "Yes," she said, finally, "that would be very amusing indeed."

Jack glared at their gleeful expressions. "Trapped," he growled, "and by as wicked a pair of children as I ever hope to see. Oh, very well; anything to avoid a 'lovely, long ride', I s'pose."

Amid general laughter, she rose. "I won't be a minute," she said, and left them in order to change into her riding dress.

"Oh, bless you," she said, as he deftly snugged the laces for her and tied them. "I forgot I gave Betsy an afternoon's leave."

Will put his arms around her and she leaned back against him for a moment.

"You were right," she said.

"Of course I was," he replied. "About what?"

"Jack. He was jealous." She turned round in his arms and looked up at him. "And I didn't see it."

He smiled. "You say 'was'; I take it you two understand each other, now?"

"Yes," she nodded, "I think we do. We had an... interesting conversation." She told him what she and Jack had discussed. "Jack said he had an notion of how to resolve the problem," she concluded, "but wouldn't tell me what it was."

"It sounds to me as if you can leave the rest to Jack," Will said, "his ideas—crazy as they sometimes seem—have a way of working out in the end."

Elizabeth nodded again. "I hope you are right; I cannot help but worry."

"The important thing to me is that you and Jack are friends again."

"Oh." She blushed and looked down. "Yes, we are friends." He grinned broadly, but pulled his face straight just as she raised her head to meet his eye. "In fact..." She stopped.

"In fact," he supplied for her, "you succumbed to the irresistible Sparrow charm and you're not quite sure how to tell me."

"Will, " her hands were pressed to her burning cheeks. "I was so angry with him. I never dreamed..." She drew a deep breath. "How did you guess?"

He pulled her close and kissed her. "I know you, wife, very well; and I know Jack... a little. A battle between the two of you was likely to end in only one way. Unless you tore each other to pieces first, of course."

"And you don't mind?"

"Well," he said, "it depends upon what you mean by 'mind'. If you wish to make a habit of these adventures; I will not take kindly to it." She shook her head and he grinned. "I thought not. Remember, beloved; you are mine, and I do not share very willingly."

Elizabeth chuckled. "My very words, come back to haunt me." She pulled his head down and kissed him. "I love you, Will Turner."

"As well you should," came the smug reply. "Now, come along; Jack is waiting with impatience for his lovely ride." Laughing, they descended the stairs, arm in arm.

There, comfortably ensconced amidst the spoils of a raid on the library—books and a draughts board—and liberally supplied with refreshments, they settled down for a pleasant afternoon.

Will disappeared into the house and came back carrying swords. Jack, lounging at his ease—feet up and rum in hand—scowled and shook his head. "No, you damned, resty pup. Not now."

But both Will and Elizabeth exclaimed at this, crying foul. "You promised, Jack. What about our bargain?" Will insisted on his lesson; brushing aside Jack's fluent and increasingly profane objections as mere nonsense. Even James raised his eyebrows.

"Honour of a pirate, Sparrow?" was all he said and Jack pretended not to hear, although, shortly afterwards, he agreed at last and got to his feet. "Oh very well, if I must; let's get on with it."

Will watched intently as Jack explained, and then demonstrated, the move, step by step. He cast one mischievous glance at James when it was revealed that Jack had indeed led with his left and returned his attention to his sword. They went over the sequence slowly until Will had it memorized; and then at speed, several times. Both he and Jack were sweating freely at that point and he did not object when the pirate called a halt. "There you are, boy. You've got the moves. All you need now is practice. Satisfied?"

"Yes, indeed, I thank you," Will replied, taking both swords and laying them carefully across an empty chair. "It's a devilish tricky bit of swordplay. I wish I could have met this Monsieur Barzin of yours, Jack."

"I might have brought him to visit you," Jack said, seating himself again and reaching for his glass, "were he not such dull company. Wouldn't know what to with a good time if it tripped him up and sat on him, I swear. Which it almost did, come to think of it. Anamaria was, for reasons that passeth understanding, fascinated with the man." He took a long drink, put his feet up and closed his eyes. "Well, he's gone now. Perhaps another swordmaster will come your way one day, eh lad?"

Will took the glass of lemonade Elizabeth poured for him and drank thirstily. "I hope so," he said.

James had picked up a book and was, to all appearances, absorbed in reading. Jack waved away all offers of entertainment; content, he said pointedly, to rest a bit after the riding and fencing he'd been subjected to on such a hot day. Will and Elizabeth laughed at him and sat down with the draughts board between them; and for a time there was silence.

As Elizabeth was setting out the pieces for their third game, Will looked over at Jack. The pirate was sipping his rum and gazing out to sea, lost in thought.

"Jack?"

"Eh?"

"What made you go to sea in the first place?"

Jack grinned. "Now, lad, that'd be telling."

"Was it to see the world?" Will persisted.

"Well, I have seen a good bit," Jack conceded, "what with one thing and another. And parts I'd like to see again, now that I think on it. But that wasn't the whole reason, no."

"Freedom," Elizabeth said, softly.

"Here's to your good memory, lass." Jack toasted her. "Still not the full tale, though."

"What is it, then?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"I think I know," Will said, after a short pause. "It's the sea, isn't it?"

"Aye, the Sea; every true sailor's mistress." Jack's eyes turned once more to the horizon. "Once a man the Sea wants has sailed upon Her and felt the breath of the world beneath the keel, there is no going back to life on land."

Elizabeth caught her breath; those were nearly the same words James had used the other night. She looked to see if James had heard. He had. His eyes were upon his book, but his expression was one of painful concentration.

"Not that She can't be a damned uncomfortable paramour, at times, just like any woman," Jack went on. "There's not a one of Her lovers who, if he's honest, doesn't expect to die at Her hands someday. She's like that Kali the heathens worship as a goddess in India; mother, lover and destroyer in one. Still, it's a good life."

"India!" Will exclaimed. "Have you been there, Jack?"

"I have," Jack said. He reached up and touched the silver coin that dangled over his headscarf with a reminiscent smile. "Long ago."

"What's it like?"

"Like nothing you can imagine, lad. Ancient, teeming, fantastical; smelling of spices and rot. I'd like to see it again. And Madagascar, what's more." Jack put his feet on the ground and leant forward, elbows on knees, rolling his empty glass between his palms; eyes still on the ocean.

Elizabeth glanced again at James. His book had sunk, forgotten, to his knee and he, too, was staring out to sea.

"Do you think you will, Jack?" she asked, "See those places again, I mean."

"Oh aye," he grinned at her. "And sooner rather than later, maybe. The Pearl's been restless for some time and she's got me feeling it now, too. The Caribbean's gone small on us: confining. Like the horizon's too close or summat."

James raised a shaking hand to his mouth.

"How I wish I could go with you," Will said, impulsively. Elizabeth held her breath.

"No you don't, lad, not really." Jack shook his head. "Not that I wouldn't welcome your company, but the roving life is not for you. You had your chance and turned it down. Opportunity like that only comes to a man once, y'know."

James shuddered and shut his eyes. He drew a gasping breath; grimacing as if in pain.

Will sighed and smiled ruefully. "You're right, Jack." He reached for Elizabeth's hand. "I had to choose. And this," he pressed a kiss into her palm, "is stronger than the Sea's call."

Jack nodded. "You followed your heart, son," he said gently. "Can't ask more than that of anyone."

James's eyes snapped open and he turned to look at Jack, and the expression on his face made Elizabeth's throat close on sudden tears. Relief, wonder, and the beginnings of joy shone there; as if hope unlooked-for had appeared before him.

Jack's eyes were steady on the horizon; he gave no sign that he was aware of the other man's gaze.

Recollecting himself, James turned away and drew a deep, tremulous breath, fighting for composure. But, try as he might, he could not keep from smiling to himself.

Jack looked sidelong at Elizabeth and winked. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a glinting grin.

Elizabeth, her heart swelling, looked from James to her husband. The former, in unconscious mimicry of Jack, was sitting with his elbows on his knees, staring into the distance. His brow was smooth—the worry and abstraction gone—and his eyes were clear. Will was watching Jack; a little, wistful smile on his face; but his hold on her hand was firm and she knew his choice had truly been made at last. She was content.

A little breeze sprang up, rustling the leafy canopy and bringing welcome respite from the heat. In moments, the breeze had grown stronger, with gusts that blew a book open upon the table and rattled the pages. There was a distant mutter of thunder. Looking east, the view of the plateau was obscured by rain that raced towards them as clouds boiled over the hills.

Everyone leapt into action, snatching up books and cushions—Will did not forget his precious swords—and dashing up the slope to the house. Laughing, they gained the verandah just as the first fat drops fell. From there they watched as the world disappeared behind a blowing curtain of rain that became heavier until even nearby objects were blurred by the downpour. Soon the wind, whipping the rain to where they stood under the wide roof, drove them indoors.

As they took their place at table, all were smiling. Conversation was light-hearted; they laughed as much as they talked. The wine circulated freely and, before long, everyone was slightly flown with it. There was an almost giddy atmosphere about them.

"That's a fine necklace, Elizabeth," Jack said, admiring the large ruby, set in gold, that flashed and glittered on a slender chain around her neck. "I've not seen it before, I don't think."

"And with reason," she replied. "I have been careful to keep it out of your sight, lest your magpie tendencies get the better of you."

Jack placed his hand over his heart. "Lass, you wound me. You can't mean to imply that you think I would steal it?"

"In a heartbeat, you rogue," she laughed, "were I so foolish as to leave it unguarded." Will and James joined in the laughter; Jack maintained his air of injured innocence. "And I would not wish to lose this, for it is precious to me." She smiled at her husband. "Will gave this to me when we were courting."

"Traded two of my best swords for it," Will said. "And cheap at the price, don't you agree?"

"Aye, it's a fine, clear stone and a perfect color." Jack leant back in his chair, toyed with his wine glass and looked thoughtful. "This custom of giving jewelry during courtship is a charming one, don't you agree, James?" His eyes danced wickedly. "But such a delicate business."

James tried to look haughty and failed. "Sparrow," he said, "do not."

Elizabeth, sensing a story, clapped her hands. "Tell!" she cried.

"It's like this," Jack said, with a look of candor, "if one gives a lovely jewel to the object of one's affections..."

"Sparrow," James interrupted him, scowling, his tone minatory.

"I was merely going to ask Elizabeth's advice on a general point of etiquette, love." Jack grinned. "Now, as I was saying; if one gives a jewel, is it not an insult and sign of rejection if the recipient of said jewel does not wear the gift?"

Elizabeth was solemn. "Yes, indeed, Jack. A suitor would be bound to consider himself dismissed in that case. Unless, of course, he were dead to all proper delicacy of feeling and chose to persist in his unwelcome suit." She stole a glance at James and her mock-gravity collapsed into giggles, for he was blushing and glaring at Jack in exasperation.

"Have you no sense of decency?" he asked Jack despairingly.

"None," came the cheerful answer, "nor 'proper delicacy of feeling' apparently, although I never felt the lack of it 'til now."

"You two are better than a play," Will laughed. Elizabeth nodded in agreement, wiping her eyes. "Now, don't be cruel; having gone so far, you must tell us what this is about."

"Only that, over the years, I have given James any number of rather fine black pearls..."

"Four," James growled and Elizabeth giggled again.

"Four, then. The number is unimportant," Jack said grandly, "The point is this: you have categorically refused to wear them. I am rejected."

"What you fail to mention, you unconscionable villain," James replied, goaded, "is that two are unset and one is a small and rather dainty lady's ring. How the devil can you expect me to wear them? Tell me that."

"It's a fair question," Will said, judicially. "What say you, Jack?"

Jack waved a hand. "Stones can be set and rings remade," he said, carelessly. "Ask him about the fourth pearl; the pin. The one meant for a gentleman's neckcloth."

Three pairs of eyes turned expectantly towards James, who flushed a dull red. He undid the top buttons of his waistcoat and, with his right hand, drew something from a small pocket concealed within the left side. He held it out on his open palm and looked Jack straight in the eye. "Well, pirate?" Very slowly, Jack smiled.

Will rather hastily busied himself with the wine and Elizabeth developed a sudden interest in her plate.

"Do you mean to tell me, love," Jack said, "that you carry it with you always?"

James nodded.

"Why you damned," Jack's tone became aggrieved, "tricky, unpredictable," and louder, "sneaky... miser!"

"I beg your pardon?" James sounded stunned. Will choked on his wine.

"Here am I, searching high and low for that pin. Your desk, your sea chest, even the Gull. And you have it in your pocket, of all places."

"You have been searching for it?" James asked. "Searching my quarters and my boat, you knave? Why?"

"Because I wanted it, of course." Jack said, disgustedly. "You won't wear it and I didn't think you'd miss it."

"But why do you want it?"

"Well, there's a lady of my acquaintance, see, in Tortuga..."

"Giselle?" Will asked, grinning.

"Silence, puppy."

James took a deep breath. "You have been trying to steal my pin in order to give it to a harlot in Tortuga."

"All a misunderstanding, mate," Jack waved his hands, "think no more about it. That's all off, now that I know you're attached to it."

Elizabeth clapped both hands to her mouth, trying to muffle her giggles, but with a notable lack of success. Will was chuckling openly.

James's lips twitched even as his scowl grew more ferocious. Jack watched him, eyes mocking. Suddenly he gave up the effort and burst out laughing. "Jack Sparrow, you are undoubtedly the most unprincipled rascal it has ever been my misfortune to meet." He restored the pin to his pocket, still laughing. "And I shall have a new hiding place for this before the week is out, just to be safe."

Jack protested that the pin was now sacrosanct but the others only laughed the harder.

Once everyone was done eating, Elizabeth stood, and the men rose with her. "The wine is in the library. Shall we sit in there?" she said, with a smile.

James moved to hold the door for her. She, ignoring the arm Will held out, took James's instead—casting, as she did so, a mischievous glance over her shoulder at Jack. He grinned as he and Will followed them across the hall and into the library. "Challenge accepted, darling," he murmured.

Will looked at him suspiciously. "Jack, what are you up to now?"

"You'll see, boy, soon enough."

Elizabeth and James had passed into the library and Will stood aside to let Jack precede him, before closing the door. He turned round and was driven back against the panels; his breath going out in a startled 'oof' as Jack's body slammed into his. "Jack! What..." His question cut off abruptly as Jack seized his head in both hands and kissed him.

When she heard the thud, Elizabeth knew what she would see, even before she turned around. James, turning with her, started to speak, but she caught his eye and shushed him, finger to her lips and eyes alight. He gaped in astonishment as she stepped closer to the other pair, drawing him with her.

Jack took his time, turning this way and that to fully explore Will's mouth; his tongue reacquainting itself with old haunts, teeth nibbling on the fine-drawn lips. Between surprise and a growing distraction as the spell began to reassert itself, Will's struggles to get free were half-hearted at best.

Elizabeth watched the pirate kissing her husband with interest; her breathing a little fast. Unconsciously, her arm tightened on James's—and he, likewise fascinated and aroused by the sight before them, looked down at her bemusedly. She was, he thought, as much an outlaw as Jack, in her own way.

Jack released Will's mouth, still holding him pinned to the door, and smirked at her. Reckless excitement pulsed through Elizabeth, making her giddy again. She faced James, hands on his shoulders, and grinned impishly at him. "That was a dare, I think" she whispered. "What shall we do about it?" Her fingers brushed the short hair at the nape of his neck and he shivered.

"To ignore it would be wise," James said, warily, even as his arms, almost of their own accord, pulled her close. He heard Jack chuckle and her smile widened. She stood on tiptoe and tilted her face up.

"Bugger wisdom," she said, as her mouth touched his. When he would have drawn, back she tugged sharply on his coat with one hand as the other closed on his nape, and he surrendered. Her mouth opened hot beneath his, tasting of wine and spices, her flickering tongue invading and retreating, inviting. His followed and she sucked gently; when she hummed, the room lurched around him.

The clink of glasses brought him back to a sense of his surroundings, and this time when he pulled away she let him go. He looked up to find Jack watching them, glass in hand, with an expression he had come to know well over the years. The imp of mischief was dancing again in those glittering eyes; mouth quirked and head tilted in a way that told James that here was Jack at his most ungovernable. To his surprise, he felt none of the trepidation that the sight usually caused; no urge to try to curb the wildness. For the first time, he acknowledged something in himself; an echo or an answer—he couldn't tell which—that made him feel he could meet Jack on his own terms. Some of this must have shown in his face—Jack had always read him far too easily—for the pirate raised his glass and nodded to him before looking at Elizabeth.

"Prettily done, child," he said, "but a bit foolhardy, don't you think?"

Her chin came up. "And that, too, is a sword that cuts both ways."

"More than a bit foolhardy, then." Jack chuckled. "Pot-valiant, darling?"

"What do you think?"

James glanced down at Elizabeth as she preceded him to the table and found her smiling back at Jack in way that should have unnerved him, for the same reckless spirit glinted in her eye, challenge clear in every line of her.

Will poured wine with a hand that was not quite steady and handed her the glass, which she took with a soft word of thanks; silently toasting Jack with a saucy wink. She stood at an angle to her husband, her shoulder just touching his chest. Will, looking past her, met James's eye. James felt a shock of recognition as he realized that here was another who knew what it was to ride the whirlwind. He wondered how it must be, putting that knowledge into practice every day. As if he had heard the question, Will shrugged and gave him an amused and slightly rueful smile.

Jack poured wine and gave it to him with a tiny grin. They sipped in a silence that was the very antithesis of peace. As if in sympathy with the crackling excitement in the room, the wind roared in the chimney and rattled the shutters.

James sat down at one end of the sofa. Will chose the wing chair and Elizabeth perched on the arm of it; while Jack leaned against the table, arms folded.

During a pause in the storm, an almost tuneless humming was heard. It resolved itself gradually into words: "We're devils and black sheep and really bad eggs. Drink up me hearties, yo ho! Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me." They turned as one to look at Jack.

Elizabeth giggled and Will groaned in dismay. "Oh, not you too, Jack!" he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Only that the Pirate Song means mischief," Will put an arm around Elizabeth's waist, "as I know but too well."

"Not at all, lad," Jack replied. His eyes were steady on Elizabeth. "Merely, I was recalling the day, or, rather, the night you taught it to me. The night you and I spent on the smuggler's island. D'you remember, love? "

Her eyes widened slightly and his eyebrow shot up, mockingly. He wouldn't dare, she thought.

"I thought you might," was all he said and Elizabeth breathed again. "Now then, as for your little naughtiness of a moment ago; it was very pretty, to be sure, but not, perhaps, all it could have been." He emptied his glass and set it down. "Let me show you how it's done."

James choked on a sip of wine and looked up at the pirate in laughing alarm. "Jack, you madman, you wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I just?" And with that, Jack was on the sofa, straddling James's lap. He shot a glance at Elizabeth and she blushed; remembering, as he no doubt intended, the night before. "Drink up, love, or it's liable to get spilled."

James sighed. "I don't suppose you will get off me if I ask?"

"Not a chance. Drink your wine."

"An appeal to your better nature, perhaps?" James drank half the glass.

"This is my better nature, mate. You should know that by now." Jack made a move to take the glass from James, who held it out of his reach.

"No, let me finish; I shall need the fortification, I daresay," James said, drinking off the rest of the wine. He set the glass down on the end table.

"Finally." Jack cupped the other's face. "Just relax," he grinned, wriggling to settle himself more firmly in James's lap. He brought their mouths together and bit down, teeth catching and tugging on a full lower lip. James groaned and his eyes closed. "That's it, love."

Will glanced at his wife. Elizabeth's lips were parted; cheeks flushed. Will smiled and pulled her into his lap. She snuggled into his arms, never taking her eyes off the sight before her. He pressed his lips to the pulse that beat beneath her jaw.

James was lost. His world had shrunk, as it always did when kissing Jack, to the essentials: the lithe body moving against him; the hands, strong and clever, stroking, gripping; and the hot and wicked mouth—sharp, sweet, and altogether maddening—that claimed his. He buried his hands in Jack's hair and pulled him closer still, biting. When Jack gently disengaged, he sighed and opened his eyes.

Jack was looking at Elizabeth with a smug grin. "See the difference, lass?"

Elizabeth tapped a thoughtful finger against her lips. "Not entirely," she said, at last. "Some of the subtleties escaped me, I think." She dimpled. "Perhaps a demonstration..." She felt Will chuckle.

Jack laughed. "You rogue. Nothing simpler, really." He got to his feet and took her hand, pulling her up into his arms. "Just borrowing your wife for a minute, lad," he said to Will, who grinned and waved him on.

"Now then," Jack tipped her chin up, "pay attention." He kissed her softly, teasing, and she sighed. Her arms went around his neck and she ran her tongue along his teeth. She bit his tongue and he chuckled. "Foolhardy," he whispered, and kissed her in earnest until she whimpered and clung to him.

Will stood and edged round them to place his empty glass on the table. He then moved behind the sofa, leaning his elbows on the back of it next to James. For a space they watched the other couple, then James leant his head back to look up at the younger man's profile. Will looked down. Slowly, to give James the time to avoid it, he bent his head until their lips touched. They sighed in unison, mouths opening to let their tongues glide and tangle. Will raised his head again and smiled.

"We have all run mad tonight, I think," James said.

Will nodded. "We have, indeed." He walked round to stand behind Elizabeth, placing his hands on her waist. She let go of Jack and leaned back against him, laughing breathlessly.

Jack's eyes glinted as James came to stand at his shoulder. "Well, darlings, I've always held that the only true sin is wasting an opportunity," he said, looking at each of them in turn. "Shall we continue as we have begun?"

"It is for Elizabeth to say, I believe," said James, taking her hand and kissing it.

"Oh aye," Jack nodded, "that it is."

Elizabeth, eyes wide and heart pounding, looked from Jack to James and hesitated. Will's arms were around her waist—a solid, comforting presence; his cheek against her hair. He bent his head to kiss her neck and she caught a whisper, the merest thread of sound, as his mouth touched her ear. "Yes," he said.

Her grip on James's hand firmed and she held out her other hand to Jack, who took it and kissed her palm. She smiled.

"Yes," she said.

In the Turners' room, James set the glasses down on the desk and Jack poured. Will and Elizabeth busied themselves with lighting all the candles—the five-branched candelabra on the mantel-piece and bedside table, as well as the wall-sconces—until the room glowed golden.

They gathered in the center of the room and Jack handed them their glasses. He was about to propose a toast when Elizabeth burst into giggles. She put her wine down hastily and covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes wide and surprised above them.

"Elizabeth?" Will put his hand on her back and she turned and buried her face in his neck, still laughing. "Darling, what is it?" James took his wine so that he could wrap both arms around her.

"I cannot believe that I am going to do this," she gasped between giggles, her voice muffled.

Will's arms tightened. "You need not, darling," he said, his tone worried. "No one will force you to do anything you don't wish to do."

James set down his glass and made to leave but was halted by Jack's hand on his arm. "Not yet, love. Wait a moment," he murmured, eyes bird-bright.

She drew a deep breath and stopped herself from giggling with a visible effort. "No, no! I wish to—it's just that suddenly I felt dreadfully shy." She wiped her streaming eyes on Will's collar and turned to face them again, saying "I was being absurd. It was an attack of silly nerves; pay it no..." She cut off abruptly and began to laugh again. "Oh," she cried, "you should see your faces! Come, admit it, you are as nervous as I."

Her merriment and the unshadowed glee in her eyes reassured Will and James and their gravity collapsed, swept away on gales of mirth. Jack watched them with tolerant amusement, chuckling and sipping his wine as their laughter ran down.

James pulled himself together and took her hand. "Elizabeth," he said, earnestly, "If you would rather not..." She put a hand over his mouth.

"Oh, hush," she begged, "or you will set me off again." She pulled her face straight, although her eyes still danced. "I do solemnly assure you that I am entirely willing to do this thing."

"Prove it." Jack's voice brought her chin up.

"Jack, for heaven's sake," Will began, but Elizabeth smiled and kissed him.

"It's alright, Will," she said. Turning back to the pirate, her eyes narrowed. "Prove it." He nodded. "How?" she asked.

Jack smiled. He shrugged out of his coat and tossed it aside; his waistcoat followed. "Take your clothes off," he said, "and I'll show you." He began untying his sash.

Elizabeth caught her breath. Leave it to Jack, she thought; a bubble of nervous laughter growing in her again. To cover, she picked up her wine and emptied the glass in one long swallow. It steadied her. She grinned; an echo—unconscious this time—of Jack's own smile, and put down the empty glass. Suddenly giddy with anticipation, she untied the laces of her gown, loosening the bodice and slipping it off her shoulders.

Glancing up, she saw that Will and James were standing stock still, looking doubtful. Her unruly laughter threatened to break out and she wrestled it down. Her brows rose as her dress slipped lower. "Well?" she murmured, " you heard the man. What are you waiting for?"

"Oh! Ah, yes, of course." Their sudden bustle to comply nearly upset her composure yet again. She saw that Jack shared her amusement. She winked at him and he chuckled. Her dress fell to the floor, and she stepped out of it and her shoes. She pulled up her shift and bent to untie her garters. When she noticed James watching her, his hands frozen in the process of unbuttoning his waistcoat, she drew her shift, inch by inch, up her thigh and watched his eyes darken. A slap on her rump made her yelp and turn about to see Will, dressed only in his breeches, laughing at her.

"Now who's dawdling, you shameless flirt?" he asked.

"No such thing," she replied with dignity, "it is just that my... my garter has a knot in it and I cannot get it undone."

"I see," Will said, sitting down in a nearby armchair, "Then perhaps I can be of assistance. Show me this uncooperative garter."

She raised her skirt again and daintily placed her foot on his leg, far up his thigh. "If you would be so kind, sir," she said, demurely.

Will put his hands on either side of her ankle and stroked upward until he reached the garter tied just below her knee. "Let's see, now. Ah, here's the trouble." And he leant forward and took the ends of the bow in his teeth. She shivered as his breath blew hot against the silk covering her leg. A gentle tug and the garter was undone. He slid the stocking down and drew it off her foot. "Not so very difficult when you know the trick of it, eh?" he said as he released her, and she put her foot back on the floor.

"Oh," she said, "perhaps I was mistaken. Yes, I think it is this one has the knot." And she put her other foot down squarely on his crotch.

"Elizabeth!" She flexed her toes and he groaned. "Stop that." He took her foot and placed it firmly on the arm of the chair, untying the garter as he did so. She laughed at him and took the stocking off herself.

She turned toward the others as Will stood and slipped his arms around her. James, looking decidedly mussed and just-kissed, was down to his breeches. Jack was tugging off his boots and smirking. Taking Will by the hand, she scooped a full glass from the table. Walking over to James, she offered him the wine. "Here," she said, "this helps."

He accepted it with a nod of thanks and tossed it back. Will took the empty glass and set it aside. Elizabeth put her hand on James's shoulder and stood on tiptoe to kiss him, licking the last droplets of wine from his lips. This time he did not hesitate, drawing her to him and kissing her hard. Through a roaring in her ears, she heard Will's voice, "Don't be greedy, you two. Save some for me." He put an arm around each and snugged them all together. James raised his head and Will neatly captured his mouth. Elizabeth rested her cheek against James's shoulder and watched them devour each other. When they drew back at last, she was breathing as fast as they.

"Bravo," Jack said, applauding. Will and James let go of each other and turned to look at him, keeping their arms around Elizabeth. He, too, wore only breeches; his golden skin gleaming in the steady light of the candles as he cast an appreciative eye over the tableau before him. "There are but two imperfections that I can see," he said, "and both easily corrected."

"Indeed," James replied, dryly, "and those would be...?" Will chuckled, and Elizabeth put her hand on her husband's shoulder and smiled.

"One," said Jack, "everyone is still a bit overdressed for this party, wouldn't you say?" His hands went to his breeches buttons as he spoke. Will and James followed suit and soon all three men stood naked. Elizabeth did not move; a hand on James's shoulder and one on Will's, her head high; eyes steady on Jack. "Now you, darling," he said.

She smiled, lips barely moving, and flicked a look at the men beside her and then back to Jack. Will and James, taking the hint, grasped the skirt of her shift and lifted it. She raised her arms and they drew it over her head, dislodging her hairpins in the process, so that she emerged with her hair tumbled about her. Laying her hands again on their shoulders, she raised one eyebrow at Jack. "And the other imperfection?" she asked.

Jack sauntered toward them, grinning, "Why, only that I am not a part of the picture, of course." He stopped a pace from her and held out his hand. She took it and stepped into his arms. As his mouth closed on hers, she felt the others close in around her. Pressed tightly between them, enveloped, she surrendered the last of her hesitation. This was how it should be.

At last Jack let her go, kissing her throat as her hands worked on his arms. When he reached to his left, twisting his hand in Will's hair; she moved in the opposite direction, eyes closed, searching blindly. James's arms enfolded her as her mouth found his nipple; she bit gently and felt his breath go out in a shuddering sigh. He backed out of her arms and took her hands, pulling gently. She took one step, another; and felt him sit down. She opened her eyes and he smiled up at her.

"Come here," he whispered. She sat down astride his lap and leaned forward to kiss him. As their tongues played one against the other, she slipped her hand between their bodies and stroked him lightly. He groaned and bit her lips. Bending her back, he kissed her breasts, circling her nipples with his tongue; she arched into his touch and shivered.

Behind her she heard Will gasp and Jack's voice, "Like that, do you, boy?," but she did not turn to look, for at that moment James put his hand between her legs and entered her with two fingers. She sighed; a long 'ahhhh' of pleasure. He leaned back to watch her face as he brought them forward again, circling delicately: her hips bucked. Once more he dipped into her wetness; this time moving his hand back and pressing against the rear opening. Her eyes snapped open as he entered with the tip of his finger; her mouth a perfect O of surprise.

"Feel good?" he asked. She nodded, too distracted to speak. He withdrew his finger and she whimpered; her hand clenching involuntarily around him, making him gasp. She looked down and smiled.

She kissed him quickly and slid off his lap to kneel between his knees. Still smiling, she licked him; long, sweeping strokes from root to tip and his hands gripped the arms of the chair as his eyes slipped closed. When her mouth closed around him, taking him in and stroking firmly upward, his head fell back with a breathless moan. She took him again, deeper; and deeper still, until she had all of him. She sucked slowly, her tongue swirling and lapping, tracing patterns with the tip. Gradually, she sped up, keeping unconscious time with Will's whimpers as Jack stroked him with clever fingers. When Will cried out, she hummed in sympathy. James's eyes opened; he looked down at her and said clearly, "Oh, my god."

And then Jack was there, leaning over the chair back, kissing James's throat and chuckling. "Having fun, are you, mate?" he growled.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and concentrated on what she was doing; maintaining a steady rhythm, neither too fast nor too slow. James was sighing at every stroke, when she felt Will kneel behind her and press his sweaty chest against her back. He kissed the back of her neck and ran his hands up the inside of her thighs. One hand moved between her legs, stroking her deftly, and the other clasped her about the waist, holding her firmly as she squirmed and whimpered. In seconds, she climaxed, and the vibration of her moans around him brought James to completion as well; crying out as Jack bit his mouth.

She let the softening flesh slip from her and leant back against Will, panting. "One of these days, Will Turner," she murmured, " you will do that once too often and I shall fly apart in a thousand pieces."

He nuzzled her neck. "Oh, I doubt that, sweetheart. And anyway, I'll never stop. If only you could see how gorgeous you are in that state, you would understand."

He helped her to her feet and led her to the other chair, setting her on his knee. Jack brought a glass of wine to James, where he sprawled bonelessly; head back and eyes closed. "Drink up, love," he grinned and James took the glass with a word of thanks.

Jack strolled over to them, looked around for more glasses and, seeing none, shrugged and took a swig from the decanter. He passed it to Will, who did the same. Will looked at Elizabeth and grinned. "Open your mouth," he said. She giggled and complied, tipping her head back as Will raised the decanter high and poured a slender stream of wine into her mouth. Some of it spilled, splashing on her chin to run down her neck and across her breasts.

"Tsk, tsk, lad," said Jack, "Wasteful." He seated himself on the arm of the chair and bent to lick her breast. Will joined the clean up with enthusiasm as Elizabeth gasped and clung to him; their tongues tickling and teasing, lips sucking, until every trace of the wine was gone.

Jack crossed his arm over Will's and urged her to lean back against them. When she did so, he took the decanter and trickled more wine onto her skin. It ran over her breasts and pooled in her navel; overflowing to wind in little rivulets across her belly and into the soft curls below. "Oh!," she cried, "It stings!" wriggling uncomfortably.

"Sorry, love," Jack said. He looked over at James and jerked his head. "C'mon, mate, we could use a little help here."

James padded over and went down on one knee to stick his tongue in her navel. She writhed. "That tickles!" she laughed and caught her breath as he followed the sticky trail downward. He nudged her legs apart as he moved lower, licking gently. She moaned as the burn of the wine was soothed away, his tongue searching every fold with tender attention.

Jack's mouth fastened itself to her right breast and she let her head fall back with a sighing moan; Will lapped at the hollow of her throat, biting softly. James's tongue was almost too much to bear against her sensitized flesh and she began to struggle; unsure if she was trying to escape or to press herself closer to the delicious torment. "Please," she whimpered, "oh, please..."

"Beautiful," Will breathed against her mouth, and kissed her, muffling her cry as she came. She turned toward him, and Jack and James released her. He held her tightly as she trembled. "Beautiful," he whispered again. He smiled over her shoulder at the others and kissed her hair.

Jack grinned back at him, took a swig of wine, and passed it to James, who drank and handed it to Will. "Elizabeth," he said, winking at Jack, "would you like some wine?"

"Oh no," she laughed, "I am not falling for that trick again." She sat up and slid off his knee to sit on the floor at his feet, facing James, who leaned back on his elbows and grinned at her. "Lovely as it was," she smiled at him, "once is quite enough, I thank you."

James's eyes flicked past her and she tilted her head back to see what had caught his attention. Jack had pinned Will's shoulders to the chair and appeared to be trying to climb bodily into his mouth. "Now that," she said, bringing her gaze back down, "looks like a good idea." She rose onto all fours and slunk forward, cat-like, until her mouth was level with James's. She licked her lips. "Doesn't it?" she whispered.

"Very good," he replied. His arms went round her and they rolled together on the floor, amongst their discarded clothes.

"It's just a thought, mind you," Jack's voice came from somewhere above them. "But you might be a bit more comfortable on something softer, eh?"

James raised his head to smile down at her. "He has a point," he said and she nodded. They got to their feet to join the others at the side of the bed. Once there, Will, James and Elizabeth looked at each other and hesitated; the beginnings of an almost comical dismay on their faces.

"Erm... how, exactly..." James began, then stopped. Elizabeth clapped a hand over her mouth. "I mean, where shall we..." He stopped again and Will sniggered nervously.

With a smug look that said he had been waiting for this moment, Jack took one more sip of wine, put the decanter down and rubbed his hands together briskly. "Just you leave this to me, loves," he said, "Let Ol' Jack show you 'how, exactly' we mange this."

Grinning wickedly, he stripped back the covers and heaped the pillows into a pile against the headboard. Turning, he bowed. "James, mate." With an eloquent lift of his eyebrows James stepped forward. Jack took him by the hips and drew them together. "First," he purred, "there's the little matter of my fee."

"Pirate," James murmured, and kissed him. "Satisfied?" Jack smirked and pushed him toward the bed. James climbed into it and sat down with his back to the pillows, half-reclining as Jack looked at Elizabeth.

"Well, lass," he put his arms around her. "Seeing as you're so fond of riding..." she snickered and he kissed her. "See anything over there," a jerk of his head, " worth your attention?" She nodded, wide-eyed. He slapped her on the hip as she scrambled onto the bed. "On you go, then."

Smiling, she knelt astride James's knees and stroked him once, hard, as she leant forward and licked the head. James gasped and seized her by the arms, pulling her up to face him, "Not this time," he whispered, "I've a better idea." He tangled one hand in her hair, driving his tongue down her throat while with the other hand he guided her down onto him. She moaned and braced her hands on his shoulders. They didn't move at first, but sat, foreheads touching, breathing deeply. Then, slowly, so slowly, she raised up, paused, sank back down, and fell still again. They sighed as she rose again, paused, and sank.

Jack, meanwhile, had backed Will up against the bedpost. Between kisses, he murmured, "You're next, boy." Will looked a question. Jack chuckled. "Get over there and spoon up against your wife and see what happens."

Will shrugged and grinned. "You're the Captain."

"And don't you forget it," Jack smirked. "Now, go on."

Will clambered onto the bed and straddled James's legs, his thighs alongside Elizabeth's. He slid forward until they were pressed tightly together, hips to shoulders, and nipped at her ear. He laid his hands along her thighs. She leaned back against him and began another stroke; he rose with her and she gasped. He fell into their leisurely rhythm, rising and sinking fluidly. James cupped Elizabeth's breasts, rolling the nipples between thumb and forefinger. She whimpered and let her head fall back on Will's shoulder.

The mattress dipped as Jack climbed onto the bed. Soon, Will felt an oil-slicked finger enter him, and then another. He groaned. Elizabeth reached back and closed her hand around his erection and he groaned again. They rose and fell once more. She turned her head to whisper in his ear.

"I want you to take me," she breathed, "like a pirate."

He gasped. "Elizabeth... are you sure?"

"Very," she nodded, "I want you."

Jack's amused whisper was in his other ear. "What did I tell you, boy? Here," he pressed the flask of oil into Will's hand, "give your girl what she wants."

Will poured oil into the palm of his hand and carefully slicked it over himself. He handed the flask back. As Elizabeth raised herself again, he pressed his slippery finger against her opening, so that, as she lowered herself, she was impaled upon it. "Yesssss." Her hips snapped back convulsively and James groaned and bucked. She rose again quickly and Will added a second finger as she descended. She wailed softly.

"Am I hurting you?"

"Yes... no! It's good," she gasped, "so good. Don't stop."

He added a third finger and she hissed. "Elizabeth..."

"Do it," she said, thrusting herself onto his hand, "please. Do it."

He withdrew his fingers and positioned himself as she rose. As he did so, he felt Jack pressing against him so that, as Elizabeth began to sink, Jack drove into him, thrusting him forward and into her body. She threw back her head with a fluttering cry and Will groaned.

Jack pulled back and Will did the same, wringing another cry from Elizabeth as she settled down onto James. She leant forward and kissed him fiercely, just as Jack drove Will into her again, raising them all. Her head snapped back, spine arched, hands fluttering helplessly, and wailed. James took her hands in his, palm to palm with fingers interlaced, and steadied her as they began their downward stroke. Helpless to stop himself, he bucked up to meet her.

Jack set a brisk pace. Soon Will was moaning with every thrust. Jack pulled his head back and bit his throat. "Time to end it, lad," he growled, and released him. Will's hands left Elizabeth's hips; one gliding up to her breasts, the other moving downward. She was so keyed up that, the instant his fingers began to stroke her, she shattered; body convulsing wildly. She gave a frenzied cry and slumped back against him just as James spilled himself into her with a groan, with Will following a moment later. Jack thrust once more and cried out in his turn, collapsing forward with his head on Will's shoulder.

For a time, there was silence, but for their panting breaths. Some time in the past hour, the tempest had blown itself out and the night was calm.

Slowly Jack withdrew and the loss made Will gasp and stir. Elizabeth mumbled a protest, and Will smiled. He brushed the tangled hair back from her forehead and kissed her temple. "Darling, we need to lie down."

"No we don't," she mumbled, "m'fine right here." And she sighed.

Will looked over her shoulder at James, who grinned and murmured, "Very like you, as I recall."

Jack grumbled from the foot of the bed, "Shift yourselves, you lot; I want to sleep."

James and Will chuckled. James slid from beneath them, toward the side of the bed, and helped Will lay her down. She whimpered as they withdrew from her, but did not open her eyes. When Will lay down next to her she cuddled against him with a sigh and was instantly asleep. James lay on his side snug against her back and Jack crawled up to spoon Will. There was just room for all of them. Will had barely time to kiss his wife before sleep took him, too. As he drifted off, he felt Jack's hand come to rest on his hip, and he smiled.

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