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Midnight Ride	By : EvilE Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Het - Male/Female > Jack/Elizabeth Views: 2747 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Blazing Saddles
- 2-Pursuit
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 3
- 4
- 5
4. Something to Tell

“I do apologize about that, Jack,” she said in a pleasant murmur, leaning her head back against the edge of the tub. It was more fun to tease him, now, knowing he was across the room and unable to take any physical advantages. “Now, since you've been generous so far, what about that story?”

She heard him rolling and shifting, and glanced up to see him propped on an elbow on his side, facing her. The scarf still covered the top half of his face, and she could only see his mouth as his lips formed the words. “Since I'm the one lying here helpless in the dark, I rather think you ought to entertain me with a tale. Something exciting. Perhaps with a nice chase on horseback?”

“Hm, no... I can't even think properly at the moment,” she sighed, closing her eyes again.

“Now, that, I do like to hear.”

She flicked her eyelids open only for a second to see the rakish grin spreading across his face. “Jack, the story?”

“You tell me one. Something easy. How about... your first time?” His words ended on a deep, smooth note.

She felt her cheeks grow warmer, although it might have been the effects of the steam. “You know very well I won't tell you about that.”

“Whyever not?”

“It's not suitable, and you know it.”

“What's unsuitable about it? Seems rather innocent to me... the young Elizabeth upon her first pony. Unless there's something else to the story that renders it unsuitable... in which case I insist you tell me immediately.”

Elizabeth furrowed her brows. So he'd meant... her first time on a horse? She'd certainly spent too much time around Jack if she were detecting lechery in even ordinary conversation. “My first time... riding a horse?”

“Yes. Although if you don't hurry, I may lose patience and have to climb in there to urge you along.”

“You'll do no such thing,” she tried to chide him, but in her current state of relaxation it came out as good-natured teasing. “All right. The first time I ever rode a horse. Let me see... hm, I believe it was at my uncle's.”

“A cruel, ill-willed uncle?”

“No. My father's brother. He doted on me as a little girl - I was quite sad when he died.”

“The horse? An evil horse?”

“No! Well - it had snowed.” She paused, thinking. “Have you ever seen snow, Jack?”

“A bit here and there. Prefer warm places, generally.” Amusement seeped into his low, mischievous tone. “For example...”

“So the morning after it snowed, my mother brought me outside - we were staying at my uncle's for Christmas, out in the country quite a ways from London - and everything was quiet and white and magical... just a moment.”

She slid down to immerse her head, feeling the warm water reach her scalp and ears, closing her eyes and exhaling before re-emerging from the water. She could swear she heard Jack shift about on the bed again.

“And my uncle had been out earlier that morning, and he came along and saw us and dismounted to talk to my mother, who laughed and didn't watch me. I was so interested in that horse. A gray stallion. I think I was about eight. I strolled over and petted his nose, and my uncle and mother were talking to each other, and so I decided to climb on top.”

“That's a good girl,” Jack commented from the bed.

“Well - I had no idea what I was doing. There was no sidesaddle and I hadn't been taught the least thing about riding, yet, so I just imitated what I saw my uncle do, skirt and all. It took me a minute or two, but I climbed on.”

“Lovely.”

“Right -well the horse was spooked, since he didn't know me, and he probably thought 'Who is this tiny, funny-shaped creature?' and he tried to throw me off. But I held on. The horse didn't like that either, and before I knew it he'd taken off at a gallop. And off we went.”

“Leaving Mother and dear Uncle behind?”

“I looked back, scared, and saw them running after, but they couldn't keep up for long, of course. I clung tighter to the horse and reins, which of course made him go faster, not that I knew that at the time - and we were tearing down the road. It was... I was terrified and thrilled at the same time.” She laughed, remembering, and her voice became soft and full of excitement. “It felt like flying. It was marvelous.”

“And how did you stop?”

“After a few minutes, the horse reached the fence where my uncle usually turned him to go back. He sort of slowed down and pranced around, waiting for me to guide him, which, of course, I'd no idea how to do. In another moment he'd bucked and thrown me off into the snow.”

“Pity. Injuries?”

She closed her eyes, swallowing. “Only my pride.”

“What a little girl you must have been,” Jack mused, sitting up and drawing his legs beneath him. She instinctively shrank farther down into the tub, reminding herself he couldn't see. “A vision, bouncing along on that great horse, hair flying behind you.”

She smiled in spite of herself. “I wouldn't know what I looked like, but I certainly enjoyed myself - from that point onward, the gray stallion - Stormcloud, I called him - he and I were inseparable.” She grew pensive again. “Until, of course, my mother died and my father and I left for Port Royal.”

“Never fear, Elizabeth... should I know or produce any little girls in the future - “ Jack paused, as though estimating the possibility. “-unlikely as it may be - I'll make sure she has her own pony. No, better - a Paso Fino. Eh?”

”Stolen?” Elizabeth kept her voice light, unable to resist the jibe.

“Naturally not,” Jack retorted, as though the idea were his own brand of blasphemy. “One of the benefits of stealing money is to buy other things. It's very simple.”

There was a moment of silence while Elizabeth's mind wandered, and Jack seemed to think over their last exchange. “Elizabeth - have you been married five years, now?

She resisted the tension that crept into her limbs, fearing the direction he was heading. “About that, yes.”

“Then certainly - you must have children, by this time?”

She stared into the water, its depths murky in the candlelit room. “No,” she answered, keeping her voice as even as possible.

A pause.

“No?” Jack sounded surprised. “None at all? How's that possible? Don't tell me,” and his tone suddenly became mischievous and daring. “our dear Will - “

“It's not Will. Will is fine. I don't want to discuss it.”

“Oh, come now. Every so often in the last day or so I wondered - what is she doing sailing around with her husband instead of raising the brood? Enlighten me.”

“I can't, really. We haven't any children yet, is all.”

Another silence, and Elizabeth realized Jack was getting up from the bed. “Stay over there,” she warned.

“Don't be ridiculous.” Jack slowly approached the tub, still blindfolded, without tripping over any obstacles. He stood a few feet away, folding his arms. “Must I educate you as to the science of reproduction?”

“No, thank you,” she said through her nearly-clenched front teeth. “Let's talk about something else.”

“You know, if you're this frosty with Will, it's no wonder you haven't any children.”

She scoffed and submerged her head again, not caring what anyone might say about her catching her death of cold from a wet head, feeling only the warmth of the water and the silence it brought. When she rose again, she saw Jack closer than ever, his arms looped over the edge of the tub as he knelt beside it.

“I'll ask you to keep a decent distance,” she said indignantly, wiping water from her face with one hand.

“And I'll ask you not to beat around the bush. Out with it: what's not working properly? His or yours?”

“You leave him alone!”

“Yours, then.”

She lashed out with a hand and splashed him, hard, right in the face. He barely flinched, but reached out and latched onto her slippery wrist with surprising accuracy. She turned furious eyes on him. “You're being vulgar, and let go of me at once.”

“I'll let go when you tell me the truth.”

“It's none of your concern!”

“Ah, but once I'm curious, I'm virtually unstoppable,” he said, smiling, still maintaining his grip on her wrist. Then the smile faded. “Tell me. Are you ill? Is he?”

“No,” she sighed, exasperated, finally shaking off his fingers and shifting back, away from where he leaned in. “No. There's nothing to tell.”

“Oh, there's always something to tell. Even if it's in the silence.”

There was silence, then, between them, while Elizabeth's eyes moved back and forth over the bath water. Jack waited, unmoving. Finally, she spoke again, quietly. “I really meant there's nothing. I'm not... I never, well, got with child, and... the doctor said I'm... that I can't have children, and that's that.”

“He examined you? Saw something wrong?”

“No... no, just that everything else was as expected, and Will and I healthy as could be, more or less, and so the only conclusion was that I'm... barren, as they say. So you see,” and she gave a small laugh, one that lacked mirth entirely, before raising her eyes to Jack again. “Not such a good breeder after all.”

“Hm,” Jack said, and pushed on the edge to stand up, turning around toward the bed again. He found the bottle of rum fairly easily, uncorked it, and swigged. “So you and Will set off to sea together, unburdened by caring for little ones?”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath, and let it out, slowly. “It's all for the best, I suppose. A ship's no place for a child. And we have a great deal of fun out on the water.” Usually. When he's not missing...

“Did he say why?”

Elizabeth watched as Jack wiped a few drops of rum from his lip with the back of his hand. “Why... what?”

“This 'doctor.' Did he say why you couldn't bear children?”

“Oh.” She lifted a foot out of the water, rested it against the edge of the tub. She studied it thoughtfully. “No... he said it could have been anything. A reaction to a childhood illness, or something my mother passed on, or... even that fall from the horse, years ago.”

Jack snorted. “Ridiculous. I don't suppose he considered your husband?”

Elizabeth turned to stare skeptically at him, even though she knew he couldn't see. “Why should he? Even with everything in fine working order, Will can hardly be expected to carry the babe himself, can he?”

“Although that would be interesting,” Jack answered, scratching his goatee with one calloused finger. “So you've tried everything?”

Elizabeth blinked. “What we've tried or not is none of your business.” Jack grinned. In a moment he was striding back toward the tub. She placed her foot back in the water and scooted toward the other side. “I'll remind you to keep your distance.”

But he ignored her - not surprisingly- and was suddenly leaning over the edge of the tub, on his knees, extending a hand to 'see' where she was. The hand reached her shoulder, and he pulled her toward him, the water splashing forward and back.

“Tell me, Lizzie,” he whispered, one side of his mouth pulled up in a saucy smirk, “what haven't you tried, hm? You've gotten your chance to ride, as it were?” Her eyes closed as she felt her cheeks burning, wanting to silence him, but nothing sprang to her lips. “Such a curious girl, I'm sure you've explored quite a bit. Perhaps -“ and his other hand came to her other shoulder, bringing her forward in front of him. Too close. She felt his breath on her lips and chin as he spoke. “- I should examine you and make sure our good doctor didn't miss anything, eh?”

His palms slid across her shoulders, came to rest on her neck. She held her breath and tried to remain still. He was pulling her in to kiss her... then stopped, as though suddenly struck by a new idea. “Now - I wonder, if one truly wants to breed, perhaps one should do as the horses do.”

When his words sank in, she lifted both arms to knock away his hands, splashing him and moving backwards. “You're disgusting.”

“Ever tried it?”

She told herself not to answer, steadied her breathing while she attempted to control her curiosity... “Tried... what?”

The grin on Jack's face returned. “Get out of there, and I'll be happy to show you.”

“You wish,” she snapped, watching him warily.

“Give me your hand,” he said, and it wasn't a request. She found herself extending her left arm to meet his right. He snatched it up and laced their fingers together, firmly, pulling also so that she slid back to his side of the tub. Their faces were close again. “Instead of like this...” He rocked the heel of his palm against hers, to leave no doubt about what he meant, all the while whispering the words only inches from her lips, before pulling her hand across her body so that her shoulders turned and she found herself sitting with her back to Jack. His palm met the back of her hand, and pressed firmly as he wrapped his fingers between hers. He nudged her wet hair aside with his nose and brushed his lips down her neck. “... like this. See, darling?”

Oh. Oh. She did see. And the thought of it made her chest feel sort of tight inside, like she couldn't quite breathe all the way in or out, but all she said as she leaned her dripping head back against his shoulder was, “Don't call me 'darling.'”

He chuckled against her ear. She ought to push him away...

“Let's see, you've objections to 'love' and 'darling'... what shall I call you, sweetheart?”

“Not that either.”

“Wench?”

“Jack... let me go. Now.”

“Yes, 'wench' fits. I can think of a few others.”

“I can think of a few things to call you, too, but they won't be terms of endearment,” she replied, but heard her voice go breathy and catch on the last word, just as he decided to suck a bit of skin against his teeth, stirring warmth deep within her that had nothing to do with the bath. “Jack...” she nearly groaned.

“Jack'll do jus' fine,” he said in a low, gravelly voice against her neck. “'Specially when you say it like that...”

Compose yourself, she told herself firmly, as Jack's words seemed to travel under her skin, sending shivers through her. He was running the tip of his tongue along her lobe, now, and then down over her neck, so lightly, picking up drops of water as he went.

“You're shivering,” he soon hissed in her ear.

She made a greater effort to be still, even as her hands and legs continued to tremble. “I've been in the water too long. Why don't you... go and get me something to dry off and be warm?” Though if she were any warmer, she might combust.

“'Fraid all I have is these old bedclothes,” he said, still moving his lips against her ear. “But the warming up, I can take care of myself.”

“No...” she protested as he reached into the tub, sleeves and all, and caught her underneath the knees, pulling her toward him. “Really, I... Jack, don't...” But he had already gotten his arm around her back and was lifting her, dripping, from the water and pulling her against his chest.

She was naked in his arms. At least he couldn't see, she reminded herself, but he knew she was naked... she wished she'd run the opposite direction from his cabin, earlier, but it was too late now. Her weight rested against his torso, soaking his shirt and breeches, as he carried her, far too easily, over to the bed.

The heat and hot water had done its work, and she found her limbs soft and devoid of any resistance whatsoever... she hung on around his neck, all the while murmuring protests. Then she felt the rough fabric of the blanket beneath her, and then Jack was pulling it around her, and lowering his lips toward her...

Just this once, she told herself. Just this once I'll let him kiss me, and I'll kiss him and that'll be the end of it. She may have lifted her face toward him, though she wasn't entirely aware of anything that was happening.

He kissed her. It was lazy and slow and even a little tender, and she quickly grew frustrated, wishing more for the kiss of last night or even this morning. He wasn't so bad, after all, she thought. He'd been kind to her and he was, at the heart of it, a good man. She wound a hand through his hair, feeling the thick black strands resist her fingers. She must have pulled him closer, because suddenly the kiss was deep and fiery and everything she'd been secretly longing for. Jack had his hands on the sides of her face and was kissing the life out of her.

Just as suddenly he was pulling away, and she made a noise in her throat that spoke to exactly how much she wanted him, against her better judgment, against everything.

“My turn,” he breathed, standing up slowly.

“Your turn... for what?” she said in a deep, drowsy voice she hardly recognized.

He chuckled, and she saw he was unfastening the buttons of his now-wet shirt. “A bath, of course. Although - “ he reached out and lifted a corner of the blanket he'd wrapped her in, tilting his head - “I'm tempted to forego it, since you do look absolutely delectable...”

The compliment served to quicken her heartbeat as she watched him undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt. When he bent to pull off his boots, her eyes fell on the bandanna he still wore over his eyes, and she went very still. She considered his recent words...

“You can see,” she growled at him, and reached up to snatch the scarf from his head. She peered through it. It was worn so thin that very little was disguised by it.

He tried to look innocent. “Course not, I only meant...”

“You can see! You could see the whole time, you liar!” She leapt up, clutching the blanket around her. “How dare you!” He turned away, and shed his shirt, dropping it on the floor. She moved to follow him, still holding the blanket, her wet hair leaving rivulets down her chest and stomach. “Oh, so now you're just going to ignore me, forget what you've done? How like you.”

He stopped, in the middle of the room, his back to her. And she ceased her pursuit, too, suddenly captivated by the sight of his bare back. His skin was tanned, and a few scar lines crossed it here and there, like rivers over gentle peaks and valleys of muscle, before disappearing beneath the length of his hair. She curled her hands into fists to keep from reaching out to feel him.

She wondered how he would humiliate her next.

“I ought to turn you in for that reward,” she said, snatching up her clothes from the floor. “Immediately. Particularly since I can't trust your word about the simplest thing, which means I can hardly trust you about the sleeping arrangements.”

He turned back toward her, then, and she saw his eyes glittering; whether it was with amusement or anger, she couldn't tell, perhaps both? But she didn't look too long, because her eyes dropped and she realized what he'd been doing with his back to her: unfastening his breeches. A black vee of hair seemed to point downward from his stomach, which was flat, but not pale and ridged with muscle like Will's, and she stared helplessly at that dark arrow that disappeared between the parted folds of his breeches as it seemed to point her way to damnation.

Her mouth went dry. The clothes fell from her hand.

He was strolling toward her, again. “Listen, darling,” he said in a menacingly smooth voice, “no need to twist up your knickers - not that you're wearing any, at the moment. So I had myself a look. Very well. Let's trade, shall we?”

Standing next to the tub, he stopped, and with a careless motion of both arms, dropped his breeches to the floor. He stepped out of them, kicking them aside.

A horrified protest sprang to her lips, but was immediately forgotten. Strong thighs dotted with dark hair swelled from slim hips, slimmer than she'd thought under his loose-fitting clothes, and between them... if his hair had guided her south, that part of him was steering her gaze north again, and she dragged her eyes upward and away from his nakedness. Not before the sight was burned onto her retina, nothing like Will, no, no. Dark and hair and power. Nothing apologetic, nothing subtle or smooth.

When her eyes reached his face, he was smiling, but it was a wicked smile, a cruel smile. “Take a good look - remember this,” he taunted in a whisper, “when you've gone back to Will and everything's perfectly ordinary.”

Her mouth hung open in shock. The nerve of him to have watched her, to violate her trust, to even talk about Will, after everything... She didn't even realize she was charging toward him until she felt the firm warmth of his chest underneath her palms, and she was giving him a mighty shove, knocking him backward. She was so enraged she didn't notice he was losing his balance, and catching hold of her arms as he fell, backward, into the tub.

She was pulled with him. In a moment, she was in the water, or what was left of it, as great waves sloshed over the side and onto the floor. She landed astride him as he struggled to raise his head above the surface, and she briefly considered holding it under until he choked. But she elected instead to use her hands to grip the sides, pulling herself up so that she was still sitting, but not lying, on top of him.

His dark head emerged from the water. He shook his head once, quickly, water flying from beads and locks, as he took a deep breath. His eyes opened wide, taking in her presence. The wicked smile was back.

“If you wanted to join me, you need only have asked,” he remarked, reaching out to grasp her hips, and pull her toward him under the water, settling her on his lap.

With a jolt she realized that he was naked, and she was naked - the blanket had fallen when she'd pushed him - and all that stood between her and coupling with Jack Sparrow was an inch or so of water. Not exactly a castle wall... at most, a meager moat.
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Midnight Ride