A Most Unusual Interest

A Most Unusual Interest Chapter Thirty Two (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… just when you thought it was safe, lol! Readers/Reviewers: Sorry it’s been so long… *BLUSH * And *glomps *Thanks, HisBeautiful!


The night had been uneventful, when she really thought about it. Cleaning, getting sniped at for dumping a perfectly good bucket of sea water overboard when she knew better, when she knew it had at least three more uses left in it before it was too foul to swab the deck, eating the bug-ridden hardtack and chewing on a piece of what she suspected sho shoe leather but was assured was salt pork… Myrtle was miserable but knew she deserved it. Jack had hardly spoken to her since showing her to the galley and instructing Cookie that she was help in all things, no matter how menial or, he had added with a glint in his eye, slimy. The wind had picked up again near four bells and they were underway, despite the lack of light, even from the moon and stars. A storm was blowing in, pushing them towards Port Royal but also making the night sky menacing and secretive. Somewhere out there, Richard waited. He and his followers. Myrtle scrubbed her raw, red hands against the rough fabric of her borrowed trousers absently and sank to her haunches besides a coil of rope and a ruined cannon. She had to tell Jack the whole truth now, but a sick feeling in her belly chided her that she had waited too long, that too much had happened to turn him against her, even when he knew… Familiar bootedtstetsteps, intentionally loud, made her head snap up. She was silently amazed that, even after so short a time, she had come to recognize something like his tread. If she were to be absolutely honest with herself, she would be amazed that she had let him into her body, her bed, even after all of the promises she had made after that horrible night back home…
“Moping, dove?”
Myrtle struggled to her feet, her muscles protesting painfully. “No, Captain. I was resting. I have no place to sleep below deck and this seemed as good a spot as any…” She hoped he could not hear the tremble in her voice.
“Below deck?” he drawled, rocking back on his heels, his thumbs hooked into his belt. “There’s my cabin, Myrtle.” He quirked a brow and smiled in the dark, watching the play of emotions across her face. Yes, he admitted to himself, he wanted her in his bed and for purposes entirely apart from making sure the less savory of his crew did not decide to take liberties with her, but he also wanted the truth out of her once and for all. Getting her to his cabin, in privacy, would go far in achieving that goal.
“I’m a pirate now,” Myrtle said defiantly. “I sleep as they do. When I become a captain, I’ll have my own cabin and be comfortable then.”
Jack blinked. “A…pirate. Blood hell, you’re not still on about that, are you? It was charming once, annoying twice, now it’s just bleedin’ mad-making!” He grabbed her arm and dragged her several feet towards the mast. “Look there,” he ordered, his voice a growl as he swept his hand over the crew before them, some working, some sleeping and some apparently doing both. “Those are pirates, love. Men without a home, men without morals… Every last one of us is a lyin’, pilferin’ thief and sorry scraps of flesh at that. Not one of us is welcome anywhere in this world save our ships and even then…”he grimaced, turning her to face him, “the good king begs to differ.”
Myrtle inhaled slowly and exhaled, counting to ten. “I have no home. I have no family. I have my own gold so I’m one step ahead of you there. I know everything about being a pirate except how to be one myself. I l I left England, I knew this was my destiny. I would not have stayed long with my sisters… You would have come for me.”
He snd, rd, releasing her arm. Jack was tired, more tired than he had ever been in his life. He did not like being confused, being caught off guard, and he told her as much, adding, “And you and your bloody witchery… Simples and tinctures are no more witchery than knowin’ the shoals, knowin’ the reefs…” He shrugged and tossed his locks back over his shoulders. “You’re not a pirate, love. You’re a confused chit with a mad man on her heels, but I’ve had worse an’ when we get him done, you’re stayin’ in Port Royal. Play pirate in the cove with the get of the Navy men, but you’ll be on my ship no more.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You think you’re so smart, Jack Sparrow. You think you know me, my purpose… You listen to me and you listen good. Richard is not some simple mad man with delusions of grandeur. He’s Hell itself, bound in one man. My sisters couldn’t see it like I can. You cast me off this ship, Richard still comes for you because helped me. Anna Maria would have died in vain if you do this.”
Jack’s hand shot up and he grabbed her, his fingers squeezing her cheeks until she gasped in pain. Easing his grasp only slightly, he said in a low, tight voice, “Do not raise the dead to get your way, lass.”
She gritted her teeth and in a sudden, sharp movement, drove her heel down atop his booted foot. She did not hurt him but merely surprised him, making him release her face. “Raise the dead,” she growled. “That is the entire problem here!” She jabbed a finger at his chest, making him wince inwardly at both her sudden temper and her action. “Come with me now and I’ll tell you all. I tire of this… I don’t need you any more.”
Jack felt a sharp pain in his chest at this but he nodded. “Fine. Lead the way.”