A Most Unusual Interest

A Most Unusual Interest Chapter Twenty Three (NC-17)

Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather… *glomp for being Uberbeta! *style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Readers/Reviewers: This chapter should help
clear things up! And sorry for being so
slow in getting it out there…

Myrtle felt
warm and comfortable. The smell of salt
air and wood, strong rum and a faint tinge of coconut oil and lime juice told
her she was not in her English bed but rather aboard Jack’s ship, that it had
not all been some fever dream. That,
she realized, also meant that the nightmare part of it had been true, as
well. Her sisters were dead, Richard
was apparently unhinged and she was hunted for some reason she only had the
most tenuous notion towards. She
stretched her feet, pointing her toes and popping her ankles, but otherwise
appeared asleep, a state which she hoped to return to shortly.

“Myrtle,”
Jack’s lazy voice breathed near her ear.
“I think you’re owin’ me some answers.”

She froze,
holding her breath without realizing it.
Myrtle could feel him now, how close he was. He was not in the bed with her but rather beside it, bending low
over her. She heard the faint click of
the beads in his hair as he breathed in and out, waiting for her response.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “I don’t have one,” she finally said
softly.spanspan>“I’m…”

“Lying,” he
finished. “Do not lie to me
Myrtle. I may be a disgusting filthy
weasely black hearted pirate, but I cannot abide a liar.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Unless,” he added, the smile obvious in his
voice, “it’s myself.”

Myrtle
forced herself to open one eye. “I can’t
say.”

“You won’t
say. There’s a difference.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Now listen closely dove and heed me…”style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Jack captured her chin between his thumb and
forefinger, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “We’re still in Zoruba. I’ll
put ye ashore for a traitor if you don’t tell me the truth here an’ now.”

“A…a
traitor?” She jerked away from him, pushing
herself against the rough wall of the ship and sitting up, gathering the thin
blanket over her chest.“I have not
betrayed you!”

“On the
contrary, dove,” he smiled sadly, though his eyes danced.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “You’ve led me to this place and how’m I to
know it ain’t for theivin’ purposes? An’
further, you cost me days of supplies and the welfare of me ship.”style="mso-spacerun: yes"> He narrowed his gaze and cocked his head to
one side as if plumbing the depths of her truth. “You caused me to lose valuable stores. You betrayed me by stealin’ me resources.”

She felt
color flood her face and she sputtered before finding her voice.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “You stole my honor!”

“Liar,” he
chided again, smiling. “You gave me it
willingly an’ there’s no dishonor in that.”

Myrtle was
tired and had very litfighfight left in her.
She was hungry, she was scared and her body ached.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Jack’s warm gaze flayed her bare.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Richard fancies himself a necromancer,” she
sighed dully. “Nearest I can figure.”

“A…necromancer?”
he tasted the word on his tongue like a foreign spice.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Myrtle, I’m not an educated man save for
the sea…”

“He thinks
he can raise the dead,” she clarified, not meeting his eyes.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “He’s already…experimented…with some things.”style="mso-spacerun: yes"> She found that each word brought her a
slight measure of relief and once she got to talking, the burden of fear became
lighter. “I don’t know why he killed
the people on The Nautilus unless it was part of his experiments but…” she
paused and gulped air, looking up at Jack’s bland expression.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “But he thinks he’s some sort of priest of
his own making. He talked about
Voudoun, said it was too weak for his needs.”

“Voudoun?style="mso-spacerun: yes"> The islanders…” Jack rocked back on his heels and stroked his beard in
thought. “He’s not raisin’ a zombie
then?”

“Not…as
such…” She thought of the white powder
she had seen Richard give Goliath and frowned.
“Though I’m not sure.”

“Why does
he think you’re so important?”

Jack’s
question made her at once irritated and unsure. Part of her wanted to ask why, doesn’t he find her important himself
now, and part of her hated to think of Richard coveting her in any way, shape
or form. “I’m not very certain.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Unless it’s because…” she colored deeply,
her fingers twisting in the thin blanket, “because I once bore his child.”

“So did
your sister, did she not?” he asked gently, moving to sit on the bed next to
her.

“Yes, but I
think the stillbirth did something to him,” she tapped her skull to indicate
mentally. “I have a confession, Jack…”

He groaned
inwardly. He had a strong feeling there
was much about Myrtle she did not let on.
“Yes, dove?”

“I’m not
exactly Catholic.” She spoke in such a
small voice that he had to strain to hear her, even in the close confines of
the bunk.

“Anglican
then? No shame in that, love…I knew
this nun once who…”

“I’m a
witch, Jack.”

It was his
turn to freeze. “A what?”

“A
witch. I used a potion to make the
child in me no more. A tincture of
tansy root and pennyroyal…”

“Stop,” he
hissed. “A witch?style="mso-spacerun: yes"> A worker of magic, on MY ship?”

Tears
welled in her eyes and she nodded, gulping back a sob.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “My sisters were…good Catholics.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> I’m the only one who followed Grandmother’s
ways…” She cowered as if expecting to
be struck. “I’m sorry I lied to you,
Jack.”

Years of
superstition, both personal and conventional, warred with Jack’s sympathy.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “I can’t look at you,” he finally ground
out. He shoved himself to his feet and
paced the cabin with a heavy tread, true to his word not looking at he she she
huddled on his bed. “You think,” he
began finally, “that Richard wants you because you bore his child—briefly—and because
you…dabble.”

“Yes,” she
uttered miserably.

“Right.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Why?”

“Because…
because I think it’s something about my blood.
I think it’s some ritual of his.”

“Right.”style="mso-spacerun: yes"> He stopped pacing and walked over to her,
towering over the bunk. “I am not a
religious man, Myrtle. I don’t care if
you worship a few gods or no gods. But I
am angry that you did not tell me when you boarded the ship.”

She nodded
again. “I’m not ashamed of being a
witch.”

“Good.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> I’m not ashamed of being a pirate.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> We cast off at dawn.”style="mso-spacerun: yes"> He spun on his heel and strode from the
cabin, leaving her alone.

A/N Next chapter…SMUT!