Chosen Path

It was always easier, Elizabeth reflected, to stay true to her intentions during the light of day. However heated her latest exchange with Barbossa had been, in the morning she managed to find peace and a renewed resolve to cease their flirtatious encounters. By mid-afternoon, though, one or the other of them had made at least one insinuating remark, and by nightfall, they had found their way to each other’s side, whether sharing a bottle of wine on deck or curled up together over a book in his cabin.



The morning after Elizabeth had been but two thin layers of cotton away from giving herself to Barbossa, she found resolve a bit harder to come by. She managed to dodge the issue for one day by sending the other crew members to check on him and bring him his meals. After putting William to bed, she joined the crew on deck, rather than attempting another chapter of Cervantes.



She sat alone, though, with Barbossa still laid up. She wasn’t sure she’d have been able to sit beside him again anyway. He’d said to come back when she’d made her mind up, and though she knew she should probably tell him in no uncertain terms that they had to stop things before they went too far, her curiosity was insatiable.



She wondered how far she could let things go. How far before she betrayed Will? Could she kiss him? She had kissed other men besides Will, and he’d still married her. Besides, she had already kissed Barbossa. Granted, she hadn’t really intended to, and she didn’t much remember it. But she had done it. As long as she already had to own up to kissing him, it really was only right that she know what it actually felt like to kiss him.



And last night…they hadn’t done anything more, really, than touching each other. Perhaps a bit more…intimately…than usual, but it hadn’t really been anything they hadn’t done already. He hadn't trespassed anywhere that should have been reserved for her husband. Yet.



“You ‘n the Cap’n have a fight or som’thin?”



Marty's voice broke Elizabeth's reverie. The crew, passing around a lone bottle of rum, had all evidently noticed her solitary presence on deck.



Elizabeth straightened. “I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about.”



“Aww, Poppet, we sees you with 'im. No need to pretend you don't spend ev'ry evenin' at his side.”



Elizabeth inspected her fingernails. “Well, not tonight. We...it's complicated.”



She kept her gaze fixed on her hands, but didn't miss the knowing glances the crew exchanged. “It isn't like that.” Eyebrows were raised. “It’s not! We don’t, well, not yet - he would never compromise my honor!”



Elizabeth threw an indignant glare at the sudden guffaws that erupted among the men.



“We talkin’ about the same Cap’n Barbossa?”



“‘Course he wants to get into yer britches. Not a man on this ship as wouldn't, if you spent as much time with any o' us as you did with him.”



Elizabeth felt her eyes widen. She had never felt unsafe among these men; it had never occurred to her to worry over her honor in their presence. When Mullroy came to sit beside her, she shrank into herself a bit. She was more than capable of fending off any of them, if it came to it, but she hadn't expected to ever need to.



Mullroy handed her the rum bottle. “Don't worry yourself, Miss ‘Lizabeth. We won’t never touch you. Unless you wanted us to, of course.”



Elizabeth accepted the rum, but avoided his hand. “No, thank you.”



“’Sides,” Pintel added, “Barbossa'd have the head of any man wot laid a finger on you.”



“He said that, did he?”



“Day you joined the crew.”



Elizabeth felt a smile tugging at her mouth. She didn't think such a warning was necessary among these men, but she was glad he’d issued it nevertheless. It seemed that he’d exempted himself from the order, though. “He has been very good to me. It’s only been a day, but I do miss him. Is that strange?”



Ragetti grinned. “Naw. Go talk to him.”



Elizabeth sighed. “I’m afraid of what might happen...when we stop talking. I’m still married, you know.”



“Lotsa sailors with wives find company elsewhere, when they can't be with ‘em. What Will Turner don't know won't hurt ‘im none.”



”But I’ll know.”



“Then don't tell ‘im.”



Elizabeth laughed suddenly. “I think I’d better get some sleep. So should you all. We’ll likely make Tortuga tomorrow; you won’t want to sleep through it.”



“Don't worry, Miss. We’d never sleep through Tortuga.”



“Aye, s’not possible. Too loud.”



Elizabeth smiled, and headed to her bunk. Lying in bed, she reflected that she’d been three years without her husband's company, and one day without Barbossa's, and who was she lamenting? She knew she should think of Will, but Barbossa was here, and good to her, and he wanted her. Perhaps, just for tonight, in the safety of her own bunk, she could allow herself to want him.



The next morning, Elizabeth found Barbossa more difficult to avoid. He finally left his cabin, arriving on deck after she'd been at the helm for half her shift. She was distracted from his appearance by her son's insistence on following Jack up into the rigging.



“William! Get down from there at once! You’ll break your neck!” She couldn't leave the helm, but William refused to listen. She watched gratefully as Barbossa adjusted his position to allow Jack to leap onto his shoulders, then plucked the trembling boy from the ropes and set him on his feet.



“Listen to yer mother, lad,” he chastised the boy. “Keep yer feet on the deck.”



Her son nodded, then closed his small hand around Barbossa’s fingers. “Aye, Cappinbossa.” She smiled to see him help William climb the stairs to the helm.



“Captain Swann.”



“Captain Barbossa.” She acknowledged him without looking, turning instead to her son. She felt her cheeks grow warm, and hoped Barbossa would attribute it to the sun and wind. “William,” she scolded lightly. “How many times have I told you to stay out of the rigging?”



The boy looked at his feet. “I sorry, Mama.”



“You should be. You’re lucky Captain Barbossa was there to help you before you fell. Are you going to behave yourself now?”



“Yes, Mama. Can I play with Jack?”



Elizabeth smiled, then finally turned her gaze from her son. “Well, don’t ask me.”



William tugged at Barbossa's hand again. “Cappinbossa, can I play with Jack?”



“It’s Captain Barbossa,” he corrected.



“Cappinbossa.”



“Cap-tain.” William parroted him successfully this time. “Good lad. Bar-bos-sa.”



“Bah-ahssa!” Her son was laughing now; it was a fine game, apparently.



Barbossa rolled his eyes, eased himself into a crouching position so he could look at the boy’s face, and tried again. “Bar-bossa.”



“Bah-bossa.”



“Barrgh-bossa. Yeh want to be a pirate, say yer arrs, boy.”



William twisted his face into a fair imitation of Barbossa's. “Barrgh-ossa.”



Barbossa rolled his eyes and mussed the boy’s hair. “Close enough.” He tilted his shoulder so Jack could leap off and scurry across the deck. “Go on.” William ran off in pursuit of the monkey, leaving him alone with Elizabeth, who found herself laughing.



“What?”



She shook her head. “You’re sweet to him. Thank you, Captain Barrrgh-bossa.”



Barbossa braced himself on the rail and pulled himself up. “There yeh go. Work on ye next, get yeh talking like a proper pirate.”



She rolled her eyes. “Jack doesn’t talk that way.”



“I rest me case.”



Elizabeth turned back to the horizon, and the silence stretched like the sea before them. She wondered if she should say something. She hadn’t precisely made up her mind yet, though she really ought to tell him she had. She was still debating her next words when he spoke.



“Captain Swann.” Elizabeth turned, face fixedly neutral. “About the other night…”



She bit her lip. “There’s nothing to discuss. You can rest assured I won’t be returning to your cabin, since it apparently causes you such distress to have me there.”



Barbossa massaged his temples. “Stop. Yer as much to blame as I am and ye know it.”



“It was your game, not mine.”



“But it was ye who took it too far. Or not far enough. I’d prefer the latter.”



“Yes, you've made that abundantly clear.”



“Least I'm honest. Ye could try bein' honest with yerself.”



“You want my honesty? I love Will.”



“I’ve no doubt that ye do. But I think yer tired o’ waitin’ for him. I know ten years be too long for anyone to go wantin’. It'll drive ye mad, make no mistake.” Elizabeth glanced sideways at him. He would know about ten years. “And I think ye like the games we play. I think ye’d like to take them further. I know I’d like to let yeh.”



Elizabeth smirked. “I’ve no doubt that you do.”



Barbossa raised an eyebrow, but didn't respond.



Elizabeth adjusted the wheel against the wind. “We’ll reach Tortuga before nightfall. Would you like to take her, Captain?”



Barbossa moved to Elizabeth’s side, taking a free peg in his hand. She started to step aside for him, but he rested his other hand on her waist and kept her where she was, letting his body press against her. He spoke softly, nearly a whisper in her ear. “Aye, I would like to take ‘er. But not till tonight.”



“Then you can steer her into port.”



He leaned a bit closer. “Can I now?”



Her eyes widened as the double meaning of their conversation finally struck her. “I meant the ship, Captain Barbossa.”



“As did I.”



Elizabeth fixed her gaze on the horizon, her mouth set in a stubborn line. “It’s not going to happen.”



“What isn’t?”



“You and I.”



“Course it won’t. Just like yeh didn’t think of me th'other night, after yeh left me cabin.”



“Of course I didn’t.” Elizabeth felt her cheeks grow flush again. There was no way he could possibly know that!



“Didn’t think of ye either.”



She felt her face twitch. “I should hope not.”



Barbossa let out a slow laugh and moved so that he stood directly behind her, as he often had when he was teaching her to steer. This time, though, he pressed a bit closer, pulling her against him. “It works this way too, ye know.”



She threw a scandalized look over her shoulder. “Not with you it wouldn’t. You’re too tall.”



His eyebrows shot up. “Oh, we’d make it work.”



She watched his eyes for a moment, curious. It didn't seem like it would be terribly comfortable, but perhaps if she raised up on her tiptoes a bit, or got a low crate to stand on, they might fit together a bit better. His face had moved dangerously close to her own, and she was reminded again how much she had wanted to kiss him. His lips were parted slightly, she wouldn't have to move far to taste them.



“Go on then.”



He was expecting it, was he? She frowned and whipped her head back to front. She wouldn't give into him that easily.



He gave up, apparently, and settled onto the crates at her side. She felt his eyes on her, but kept her own gaze fixed to the horizon. It was some moments before he spoke again.



“Why return to Singapore?”



“Lord of the South China Sea, I am. Thought I’d check up on her.”



“What then? Yer Captain of the Empress. Will yeh claim her?”



Elizabeth cocked her head. “The Empress? I may. I don’t know yet. Tai Huang held command when I left; he may be loath to give it up.”



“Yer the one with the title.”



“I know, and I intend to keep it, at least until William is ready to have it himself.” She sighed. “I don’t really have a plan, other than to take stock of the situation, and perhaps meet with my crew. If they’ll have me, I think I would take the Empress, if only for a time.”



Barbossa nodded. “Yer welcome, yeh know. On the Pearl, as long as yeh like. Ye and the lad both.”



Elizabeth felt something warm and pleasant grow within her, but gave only a nod in return. “What about Will?”



She knew she was likely pressing her luck, but in seven years, she couldn't very well stay on the Pearl without her husband. And she was disinclined to leave, even then.



“Ask me in seven years.”



Elizabeth brightened. “That’s not a ‘no.’”



“Nor an aye, but seven years be a long time from now.”



Elizabeth’s gaze turned distant and melancholy. “I know. I know all too well.”



He slipped away then, muttering about his growling stomach. He returned an hour later, to take the helm and Captaincy from her at last. She was glad enough to give up command, and spent the rest of the afternoon playing with her son.



They docked in Tortuga just as the sun began to dip below the horizon. They needed to stock the ship, but that could wait for morning. For tonight, the men had divided their take of the spoils and were eager to spend it on what pleasures awaited in Tortuga.



Elizabeth followed the men into the first tavern they found. Barbossa joined Marty and Cotton at a table. The other four sat at the next table, and Elizabeth found a small table for herself and William. The serving girls fawned over the sailors, and Elizabeth smiled at their flirtations, until one started in on Barbossa.



She was not beautiful, but he didn't seem to mind, and his eyes lingered rather overlong on her rather overexposed bosom.



When she brought his wine, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Have ye a name?”



She raised her eyebrows at his courtly gesture, other hand on her hip. “Aye, I do. Have ye?”



He laughed softly. “Aye, but I believe t’was I who asked ye first.”



“Ooh, a charmer ye are. Name’s Marguerite.”



He brushed his lips across her knuckles. “A pleasure. Captain Hector Barbossa.” She got his first name? It had taken Elizabeth months to get his first name out of him, and this smarmy wench got it with a few shakes of her hips?



“Captain, ye say? S’what they all say. Something t’eat, Captain? Shepherd’s pie tonight.”



Elizabeth smirked at his frown. Served him right. “Aye, that’d be fine.”



As Marguerite bustled away to the next table, Elizabeth cast a disapproving glance his way as she helped William with his shepherd’s pie. Didn't he realize William looked up to him? He was not setting a good example by seducing the first serving wench who came his way. Barbossa did not seem to get the hint, though, flashing her a leering grin and turned back to his wine.



When Marguerite returned with their food, Elizabeth couldn't help but notice the way Barbossa stared. It was just despicable! And his kind words, surely she saw right through them.



“Why thank ye, lovely Marguerite.”



She bent over him, doubtless giving him a fine view of that which she hadn't tried very hard to hide anyway. “Anything else ye be wantin’, Captain Hector Barbossa?”



He took her chin in his hand. “Aye, I have seen something most desirable this evening to which I’ve taken something of a fancy. Perhaps when I’m finished with this doubtless fine meal, ye’d be willing to assist me in the partaking of that which I so desire?”



Oh, that was quite enough. William was close enough to finished with his dinner, and he didn't need to hear any more of this inappropriate talk from a man he looked to as a father figure. She bustled William upstairs to the room she had secured for them, catching Barbossa's face as she did so. She couldn't read his expression, but it didn't much matter. She wasn't about to stand by and watch him make advances on another woman.



Elizabeth let herself and William into the room, and tossed her hat on the table. She removed William's coat and scrubbed his hands, face, and feet with the washcloth she found in the room, then tucked him into a corner of the bed. She would join him in a little while, but she wasn't quite tired yet.



Fuming, she set about removing her own effects. She splashed some cold water on her face, but it did little to quell her irritation. The nerve of him! After all that talk of wanting her, of satisfying her needs, he ran after the first girl to glance in his direction the moment they stepped onto land.



It hadn't been her then. She felt tears prick her eyes as she sank into one of the two chairs in a corner of the room. She couldn't believe how foolish she'd been, actually thinking Hector Barbossa wanted her. It had never been about her. He was just itching to get into somebody's skirts, and she'd been the only woman around.



She ran her fingers through her hair, tugging it out of its braid. It shouldn’t have hurt so much. After all, she would never have looked twice at Barbossa if he hadn’t been the only man around. Will wasn’t with her, Jack was nowhere to be found, but Barbossa was here, and willing. It wasn’t any particular desire for him that she felt, just a need to be satisfied. Still, after all their conversations, all the time he’d spent teaching her, the hours she’d given him, reading, changing his bandages…the least he might do to show a bit of gratitude was to not run off in the arms of the first woman who glanced his way.



If he’d waited for her just a bit longer…but she couldn’t, after all. She had to be true to Will. It wasn’t really fair of her to keep him from seeking pleasure, just because she couldn’t.



She was startled out of her thoughts by a sudden knock on the door. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she slid her coat back on, shaking hands fumbling with the buttons. The knock came again. “Just a moment!” She plucked her pistol from her various effects and stuck it out the door before her. There were any number of unsavory characters in Tortuga; she was not about to appear vulnerable.



She pressed her eye to the gap in the door. Barbossa. What was he doing here?



“Captain Barbossa.” She acknowledged him tentatively, and opened the door a bit wider. She glanced behind him. There was no sign of the wench, or of anyone else. She tucked the gun away and turned back to him. “Was there something you needed?”



“Ye should know better than to ask me a question such as that. Aye, there is. Something I be needing, something I be wanting. May I come in?”



“No. If you are here to proposition me again, I feel it only fair to inform you: it won’t work.”



“So ye said earlier. Just before ye thought about kissin’ me.”



“I did no such thing.”



“Course yeh didn’t. Yeh gonna let me in?”



She sniffed and opened the door wider, stepping aside to permit him entrance. Barbossa made himself at home and settled into one of the chairs in the corner. He procured a bottle of wine and proceeded to pour two goblets. Elizabeth closed the door and pulled up the second chair.



“Why are you here? Last I saw, you had a serving girl on your knee.”



“Aye. But I found meself in need of a change in scenery. Wine?”



“Thank you, Captain.” Elizabeth sipped slowly and spoke softly. “She could satisfy those needs and wants of yours more than I could.”



“Aye, ‘tis true. But there are things ye give me what she cannot.”



“Such as?”



“Scintillating conversation. Pilfered maps to ancient treasure. Stitches. Headings.”



“Headaches?”



“Those too.”



Elizabeth stared into her wine. “Speaking of stitches, I haven’t changed your bandages yet today. You still need them for a bit longer.”



“I know. Changed ‘em meself this mornin’.”



“You can change them yourself?”



He tried to hide his smile behind his wine glass, but she caught it. Had he been playing with her all that time? “Aye.”



“And yet you made me do it for you, all this time?” She felt her cheeks flush with anger.



“Much rather feel yer fingers on me than me own.”



Lecherous beast. She glared. “You’re a scoundrel. If you didn’t have wine, I would ask you to leave.”



He refilled her glass, taking advantage of the motion to lean closer. “I be a pirate, Captain Swann. Scoundrels and villains and knaves, isn’t that what yer song says?”



She felt a bit of her anger melt away. “It does say that.” She lifted her glass. “Drink up, me hearties, yo ho.”



Barbossa drank with her in companionable silence for a time. He watched her as she drank, hands fiddling in her lap or with her goblet. She really ought not to encourage his continued presence.



“Captain, I…I know what it is to go wanting, now.” Her eyes flitted between him and her wine. “I know you’ve not enjoyed the company of a woman since I joined the crew, and that’s half a year now. I wouldn’t begrudge you an evening.”



“Yeh tryin’ te get rid o’ me?”



“No! I appreciate the company, the conversation. The wine. It’s just…you already had your ten years. Why deprive yourself? It’s not a very piratical trait.”



“Letting greed an’ lust dictate my actions was how I got those ten years in the first place. Aye, she could give me what I need, maybe. But not,” he took her hand on the table in his own, rubbing his thumb against her palm, “what I want.”



She stared at their hands, moving hers beneath his. He really did want her then. “I can’t, Captain Barbossa, you know I can’t.”



“‘Course ye can. Ye’ve got needs ‘n wants too; ye’ll not hold out forever. Ten years is a long time.”



“It is.”



“Do ye know, Captain Swann, the only thing worse than waitin’ ten years to feel something?”



She met his eyes, shaking her head.



“Waitin’ yer ten years, then finally feeling again, only to have it snatched away before ye even realize what ye’ve got.”



She squeezed his hand, remembering. “I imagine that was terrible for you. But you’re here now, and you can feel, at least.”



His hand on hers was warm; his calloused fingers sliding between her own sent a thrill up her arm and through her body. “Aye, I can. But what of ye? Ten years at sea, one day on land, ten more years at sea. That’s a terrible amount of yer life to spend wantin’.”



“No, it won’t be that way.”



He raised an eyebrow. “That’s how it works, how it always worked.”



“For Davy Jones, yes, because Calypso betrayed him. She wasn’t there for him that one day. I will be. When I meet Will for his day on land, the curse will break and we can be together.”



Barbossa refilled their goblets. “Yeh get that from Calypso, or Turner?”



“Will. Calypso may have set the conditions for his service, but he set the conditions for me.”



Something curious passed across Barbossa’s face. What was he thinking?



“What, exactly, be those conditions?”



“I need to meet him on our island. In seven years, now.”



“Anything else? What were his words, exactly?”



Elizabeth bit her lip and closed her eyes, remembering. “‘Elizabeth,’ he said to me, ‘there is a way to break the curse. In ten years, if you still love me, if you still want me, then be here. In ten years, be here, and I’ll come back to you, whole and alive.’”



Barbossa leaned back in his chair, predatory grin spreading over his face.



“Why are you smiling?”



“Didn’t mention anything about satisfying yer needs and wants, did he? Nor stayin’ true.”



“I have to love him. I do love him.”



“Ahh, but love alone won’t be satisfying that need o’ yers.” He lifted her hand to his mouth, softly kissing her fingers. Her fingers traced his lips, hot and chapped, then moved to his cheek. When she twisted them in his beard, he captured her thumb in his mouth, biting down just a bit. She closed her eyes and felt herself exhaling desperate sighs of desire. The urge to find out just why other women had pleasant things to say about his mouth was becoming overwhelming.



“Captain,” she whispered. She needed to stop him, before she couldn’t. She tried to pull her hand back, but he held it fast. “Captain, please.”



She twisted her hand from his grip. “I’m married.”



“Technically, yer husband’s dead. Makes ye a widow.”



“But he’s coming back to me. Dead men don’t come back.”



“Ye know better than that.”



Elizabeth pursed her lips. “Well, you’re exceptional.” A smile spread across his face, and she rolled her eyes in response. “An exception, I mean. As is Will. I’m bound by more than the curse; I must uphold my marriage vows.”



“Accordin’ to whom?”



“I don’t know! To me? The bible? It’s a commandment, adultery.”



“So be killin’ and stealin’, and I’ve seen yeh do both. Seen yeh revel in it.” He pulled his chair closer to her, and took her face in his hands. “Elizabeth.” She met his eyes defiantly. “How long do yeh plan on fightin’ this? I won’t wait forever.”



His hands were firm, but gentle on her cheeks, his eyes as he held her were blue flames. It was too much. She couldn’t betray Will, but perhaps there might be a way? She wracked her brain; was it possible to have this man and still be true to her husband?



Inspiration struck.



“Captain Barbossa.” She couldn't quite breathe. “I cannot give you what you ask. I cannot allow it.” He released her face and sat back in his chair. He frowned, annoyed, but waited for her next words.



“However.” He raised an eyebrow. “I would not be breaking my vows, were someone to take something of me, pirate-like, without my express permission.”



“No.”



Elizabeth glared. Now he wouldn’t press his advantage? When she bloody well asked him to? “No? It’s what pirates do, isn’t it? Claim that which isn’t theirs to take.”



“You impugn my honor? Never had a woman as wasn’t willin’, and I’ll not start with ye.” His face changed, though; he had picked up on her thoughts, perhaps. This was the ruse, the deception they needed to circumvent the rules by which she was bound. Still, he didn’t reach for her.



“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Hector.” She rose from her chair and stood before him, then leaned over until her eyes were level with his. “I’m not telling you to rape me. Just stop asking me. Stop waiting for an answer I cannot give.” She reached a hand out, and his head lolled back as she ran a finger down his cheek and neck. “No matter how much,” her voice dropped, “I might want to.”



He twitched in his chair as she stood, trembling above him. “Mrs. Turner, I be given ye five seconds to remove yerself, else I’ll not be held responsible fer what comes next.”



She held his gaze, fingers pressed against his neck, feeling his rapid pulse beneath her fingers. “What comes next?”



Finally. He reached for her, drew her into his lap, and pulled her mouth down onto his, claiming her at last as his own. She let him, and crashed into him with a force of desire that surpassed her own expectations. His mouth moved furiously against hers, all tongues and teeth and hot passion.



She flipped his hat off as her tongue swept against his, fought with his coat and effects as his teeth nipped at her lips. His fingers twisted in her hair, keeping her head against his. She fumbled with his doublet’s buttons, and he shrugged out of the garment and rose, returning the gesture to slide her coat off her shoulders.



He slipped his fingers beneath the thin fabric of her chemise and found her skin, his touch sending shivers up her spine. His kisses hadn’t ceased, and he pushed her backwards until she fell against the bed. He bent over her, sliding his hands up her stomach, pushing her chemise up with them. Her head fell back and he bent his head to her bare stomach, beard tickling her sensitive skin.



His hands found her breasts, and she shook as his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin there, grazed a nipple. His lips touched her stomach and she was so lost to everything besides the feel of him, the sound of him, the taste of him. There was nothing in the world but his body, hovering above hers, his hands, gently massaging her breasts, his voice, whispering his name. Until she was abruptly reminded that there was a world apart from them, and people in it, one of whom lay in bed beside her.



At William’s cry of “Mama!” Elizabeth twisted from his arms, and she felt Barbossa’s head drop against her body. She saw his hands twisted in the ragged quilt that covered the bed, releasing his frustration on the unfortunate fabric. How had she forgotten her son?



Barbossa pushed himself up from the bed, while she comforted William. He’d had a nightmare, and no wonder. Considering what had very nearly transpired beside him…Elizabeth curled William against her until he calmed, and after a few moments, he had fallen back asleep.



She looked up to see Barbossa already at the door. “You’re leaving?” Her voice was soft.



His hand on the doorknob, he turned and met her eyes. Would he see her desire there? Could it possibly match the unbridled lust she saw in his?



“Tend yer lad.”



“He’s asleep now.” She rose and started towards him.



Barbossa grabbed her arms and spun her against the wall, pressing against her. “Won’t be fer long, if I stay. Works this way too, but I can’t be quiet about it.”



Oh, but that felt nice. She twined her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, wondering if he might be able to be a little bit quiet about it.



She sighed. No, this was Barbossa. He didn’t do anything quietly. She pressed her lips gently to his, a kiss both languid and tinged with regret. “Perhaps,” she murmured as she pulled away, “another time.”



“No perhaps about it. If yeh think this be over, ye be sorely mistaken.” He extricated himself from her arms. “Let me go now, or I’ll not have a care for yer son’s innocent ears.”



She clung to him for a moment longer, but it couldn’t be now, and she let her hands fall to her sides. “It should be on the Pearl, anyway. Our first time.”



Barbossa closed his eyes and his breath was hot against her forehead. He turned towards the door, but she suddenly needed to keep him there, just one moment longer.



“Captain,” she queried. He turned back to see her hand outstretched coyly.



He indulged her, drawing her hand to his mouth and kissing it. “Until the morrow, milady.” She smiled broadly. He could truly be such a gentleman when it suited him. She rather thought it suited him fine.



“Goodnight, Captain Barbossa.”