Adrift

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The simple fact of being clean changed everything.

Despite the doctor’s advice to the contrary, Beth had insisted upon taking a shower and washing away three day’s worth of convalescence. The hot water streaming over her body relaxed muscles and soothed aches like a magical elixir; even the ever-present headache had began to dissipate as she carefully massaged the shampoo onto her scalp and down through her hair.

Maybe not quite as good as new, but she’d had more than enough of lounging about and brooding on the events of the past few days. There were no shortage of questions in her mind, most of which revolved around the man who claimed to have ridden to her rescue, but he’d made himself scarce as she’d recovered. Regardless of how persuasive Beth had tried to be, neither the doctor nor the doctor’s errand-running Blackhearts would answer any of the hundred questions she had about their leader.

Well, the big bad biker and his motley crew could play whatever game they liked, but she’d made up her mind that it was time to get back to her life. Or her work, at the very least. It amounted to basically the same thing for her since her father’s death and her divorce.

Beth stepped from the shower, grief jabbing her heart unexpectedly and bringing tears to her eyes. Her father had been gone for nearly five years now, brought down by a madman’s bullet at the podium of a political rally, a wild shot meant for a president and not just a state’s governor. Through the wonder of modern broadcasting, she’d been able to listen to the crack of the rifle and see the sickened horror on her father’s face over and over again…it was a chance to suffer the loss anew each time the media replayed the clip. She didn’t know how she would have been able to endure that time if it hadn’t been for William…

And then a few years later, even that consolation had vanished. There were no terrible arguments, no real anger between her and her husband at all until long after they’d grown so distant that it no longer served any purpose. Fighting might have been preferable to the void that had become their marriage. Perhaps if they’d been able to have a baby, if she’d not received the heartbreaking news that the damage done by the ectopic pregnancy had meant she would remain forever barren, they might have tried harder to make it work.

Their lives had diverged. She was increasingly drawn to the sea, driven to discover its secrets and to reclaim its history. William saw his life as so much larger than hers; as a public defender, he believed it his duty to fight for the greater good and to right every wrong. He felt she was wasting her potential; she should have been running a museum or teaching at a university, not splashing about in the water looking for pieces of junk. Her lack of vision frustrated and embarrassed him.

For Beth, it was William’s blind (though he’d say ‘noble’) ambition and the absence of any romance in his heart that left her cold. She loved the esoteric nature of her work and the unknown adventure that began each reclamation project…her father would have understood and encouraged it. Success in maritime archaeology wasn’t measured merely by financial value but also in finding the piece that could reveal a tale lost for generations.

In the end, what had started as a grand love story had turned into just another failed marriage as he withdrew into his career and she immersed herself in the creation of her company. A few signatures on some long pieces of paper and the door had slammed shut on all they’d once been to one another.

Enough already! Self pity was pointless and counter-productive, Beth chided herself as she towelled off her hair. The only thing that mattered right now was making a go of Swann Song Oceanic. Getting back to the wreck had to be her first priority.
She hadn’t been able to get in touch with her staff since the accident, although it wasn’t for lack of trying. Her cell phone had not reappeared since that first day and the phone call from Jim. The satellite phone and internet on the Morgan LeFay were in perfect working order…if you didn’t count the lack of an antenna as a detriment to functionality.

The way in which her caretakers stalled her was frustrating but she’d not felt well enough for the first little while to do much about it. Strangely, Beth didn’t sense any malice in their actions; far from it. From the apologetic way in which Marilyn and a few of the others had denied her requests, she was sure they thought they were doing what was best for her.

Truth be told, it wasn’t as if the people working the wreck site weren’t perfectly competent – they were likely continuing on just fine without her. She wanted to be there, though. Wanted to be the first one to see whatever treasures lay in the hold of the old ship. She had a good feeling about this one…

She’d been delayed long enough. If she couldn’t call the site, she’d just have to go in person. Excited once again at all that she hoped lay under the warm blue Gulf waters, Beth hurriedly tugged her clothes on. Ah, the feeling of cool, clean cotton against her skin. Yes, she was almost herself again.

Padding up the stairs and into the pilot house, she smiled as she ran her fingers over the beautifully designed oak helm, the wheel carved by a master craftsman with an obvious love for his work. The ship had been built in the 1930s, meant as a pleasure craft for a gangster who’d made his fortune running bootleg rum during Prohibition. The Morgan LeFay had gone through a series of owners since that time, most of whom hadn’t made much of an effort to maintain her. The fact that the boat came from a nefarious past had intrigued Beth and she’d snapped the old girl up at auction, sinking every penny of her inheritance into restoring the cruiser to her former glory.

“A fine piece of work,” said a voice from behind her, and when she turned to see Hector standing there, she found herself swallowing hard. Beth had never been one for the bad boys, but the man truly was a vision of sin in blue jeans and black leather. He leaned against the doorway, his thumbs hitched in his front pockets and his long hair held in check by a dark bandanna, looking entirely too pleased at her scrutiny. “Ship ain’t bad either.”

She gave him a withering look despite the unexpected rush the compliment – and his appearance – had given her. “I haven’t seen you around for some time. I wanted to let you know that I’ll be leaving today. I appreciate your kindness but it’s time I got back.”

“Aye, I thought as much,” he said, sauntering up beside her to look out towards the bow. “Marilyn told me ye weren’t an easy patient to keep a-bed. Told me, too, that ye have yer share of questions.”

He turned his piercing blue eyes on her and she felt her cheeks flush. “I don’t think you can blame me for my curiosity.”

“’Course not,” he answered with a shrug. “I’ll even encourage it to a point. Ask away, I’ll answer as best I can.”

“Okay,” she started, feeling bolder. “Tell me how you knew my name and how you came to be at the marina when I ran into trouble.” She took a few steps away, settling into a chair so she could better read his reactions from a distance. It had nothing whatsoever to do with his unsettling closeness – of that she was sure.

He let his hands drift over the wheel, his long elegant fingers caressing the spokes in a way that took her mind in decidedly un-nautical directions. “We heard tell that yer company was looking for shipboard labour. The boys and I decided to track ye down and offer ye our services.” Hector turned to look at her, a glint in his eyes. “So happens we have what ye might call ‘considerable expertise’ when it comes to retrievin’ lost objects.”

“You believe running a gang qualifies you to work on board a recovery vessel?” Beth huffed her disbelief, folding her arms in front of her. “Or is this just a hobby and you’re secretly a professor in underwater archaeology from Florida State University?

He laughed softly. “Judge not, Miss Swann. We weren’t always as ye see us now.” He shrugged off the leather jacket, giving her a chance to appreciate the way his pectorals flexed against his black t-shirt. Having casually tossed the jacket over the wheel, he strode over to where she sat and crouched in front of her.

She leaned further back in her chair and started to cross her legs, determined to keep him at bay. It made it difficult to think when he was too near and she wasn’t at all pleased with the way in which parts of her body, despite all of her efforts to stifle the reaction, were beginning to sit up and take notice.

Hector wasn’t having any of it, though, and stopped her knee in mid-lift, gently settling it back on the floor in front of her. He slid forward into the gap, his forearms resting on her thighs as her legs spread to accommodate his bulk.

Her heart thrummed in anticipation as his hands began to move, but he was only taking a ring from his finger and holding it out to her. “Found this hangin’ round yer neck. What say ye of its origins?”

Brow furrowed, she reached out to take from his fingers the ring her divers had pulled from the wreck. “You took this from me? Why?”

He looked annoyed. “T’was just holdin’ it fer ye. Ye haven’t answered me question.”

“It could be English, ‘though some of the design work is reminiscent of Spanish goldsmiths,” Beth intoned, trying to sound composed as she gave the ring a closer examination than was strictly necessary. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t already spent hours scrutinizing it, but doing so now gave her something to think of other than how her voice started to waver. “I’d put it in the mid-1700s somewhere, based on the style and quality of the work.”

Hector took it gently back from her, seemingly oblivious to the effect he was having. He held the ring up so the bear’s head caught the sunlight. “Did ye know that before explorers brought back fantastic tales of lions from deepest Africa, there were those who thought the bear to be the king of beasts? Feared the creatures were, but admired too fer their tenacity and strength.”

He took hold of one of her hands and slowly slipped the large ring around her index finger. As he did so, the air in the pilot house seemed to get very warm and she began to feel a bit light in the head. “There be a beautiful and ancient city in Spain on the coast of the Mediterranean called Tarragona. Through the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries it housed some of the finest shipyards and so some of the finest ship builders as well. T’was their guild as claimed this symbol for their own. There were none as could match those master craftsman from Tarragona, lass. Them as wore this ring were respected ‘round the civilized world; like the bear, none could stand before them. Their work made Spain the force t’was upon the waves.”

Hector looked down at the ring and ran his thumb over the bear’s head, a wistful smile on his face. Her hand still rested in his, the heat of his flesh warming her own, and neither of them attempted to break the contact. She knew she shouldn’t lead him on, shouldn’t let him believe that there was even a remote possibility that she could be interested in someone like him…but then his thumb left the ring and slowly caressed her fingers instead, sending tingles up the length of her arm that threatened to turn into shivers.

“Extraordinary,” she whispered, glancing up only to get caught in his gaze, his eyes hooded and seductive. Her throat suddenly seemed very dry and she unconsciously licked her bottom lip, sucking in a quick breath when she saw his eye widen in response.

“So what say ye?” he murmured, staring at her mouth.

Beth’s heart gave a little squeeze, quite against her will. He really did have wonderful lips – not thin like on some men, but quite full and sensuous.

“Say? To what?” It would be so easy to lean forward just now…a taste, that’s all she wanted. And wasn’t it all he wanted, too? Well, maybe not all he wanted, but that’s as far as she would let it go.

He leaned back a bit, a rather self-satisfied grin creasing the lines around his eyes. “Do I qualify to serve, miss? I assure ye that me back be up to the task but does that bit o’ knowledge prove me fit to work with yer company?”

“Oh,” she replied, finally pulling her hand from his, embarrassed. She crossed her arms once more over her chest, trying to disguise the more visible signs of her reaction to his attention. “I can’t pay much…”

He rose, slipping his hands beneath her elbows and lifting her along as he straightened up. “Can’t be worrying yerself in that regard. I’ll gather me men and we’ll prepare to make sail.” He ducked his head to catch her eyes once more, his expression solemn. “Don’t ye fret. I promise I won’t disappoint ye.”

The sentiment struck her as odd and in a sudden dawn of understanding, Beth was sure she knew what was happening. He wasn’t trying to get close to her… it was really about getting access to the wreck! He might even be in league with or trying to out-maneuver her attacker, using sweet persuasion instead of force.

“What’s this really about?” she blurted angrily.

“What’re ye meanin’?” He looked so taken aback at her about-face that in other circumstances, she might have laughed. She definitely didn’t feel like it now.

“I mean, who am I to you, really? What do you want from me? You appear in the middle of the night, supposedly looking for work. You just happen to save my life and then keep me here, incommunicado, on the island of Lost Boys. Why not just drop me off at a hospital and be done with me? Just what am I supposed to think? You’re a complete stranger…you have no reason to help me and I have no reason to trust you!”

Beth tried to yank herself away but Hector tightened his hold on her arms, baring his teeth at her as he spoke.

“Have I done a thing to hurt ye, to make ye feel as if this be anythin’ but a safe habour for ye?” he hissed, clearly wounded. “Yer in danger and haven’t the sense to know when to keep yer head down, ye stubborn wench! Ye want to go? Then go, says I. I’ll not keep ye from yer own stupidity!”

He pushed her roughly and spun away from her, the muscles in his back flexing as he clenched and unclenched his fists in frustration. Beth’s mouth gaped, simultaneously frightened at his outburst and moved at the passion of his speech.

There was an ache in her chest now, an overwhelming realization of having done something not so easily un-done. It had finally dawned on her that he was trying to protect her. That’s why he’d brought her here, why he’d kept her from contacting anyone else and revealing her location. And she’d returned his kindness with suspicion and accusations. What did it say about the world that gallantry went so utterly unrecognized? Worse, what did it say about her?

“Hector…I’m sorry. I was out of line, I truly didn’t understand until now…”

He took a deep breath but still wouldn’t turn. Beth massaged her face with her hands and walked back to the helm, holding the wheel in her hand and looking out across the water. Hector was right; she was in trouble and other than knowing that it had something to do with their discovery of the wreck, she had no idea why or from whom. She was clearly out of her depth and he was willing to help. Or had been, at least. And while she wasn’t entirely sure she bought his story about seeking work, she did know that whatever the reasons were for his presence that night, she’d not likely have lived through it without him.

She closed her eyes and sighed. She didn’t know what else to say to fix things between them but she had to try. She owed him that at the very least. There was damned little chivalry left it the world now as it was and she for one wasn’t going to let it pass unheralded.

Beth returned to where he was standing, tentatively reaching out to touch his shoulder. When he spun back around on her, his eyes still ablaze, she knew that words weren’t going to be enough.

There was anger, yes, but more than that she’d hurt him. She didn’t completely understand it…how could he place so much value on her words without really knowing her? But even absent that understanding, she longed to erase the pain from his face.

Beth slowly lifted her hand, hesitating when she saw her fingers tremble. He wasn’t someone to be taken lightly…what would it mean to touch him now? Why did she feel so compelled to do so? And if she did, what would she be risking? Never more did she appreciate the saying about still waters running deep than when she looked at this man.

She steeled herself against her uncertainty and reached up to brush his cheek with her fingertips, willing him read the apology in her eyes. Hector froze in surprise, not moving but watching her now with a heated anticipation that emboldened her further.

With new confidence she stepped closer, keeping her eyes locked with his. She let her hand slide from his face to his shoulder, then down onto his chest where she felt his thunderous heartbeat beneath her fingers. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her gaze falling to the inviting curve of his mouth. As she watched, his lips parted in a shaky breath and she gave in to her impulse, conveying her regret with a kiss.

It had only been meant to cool his anger – to sooth the injury she’d inflicted, or so she told herself – but when he finally began to kiss back, the reasons behind her actions no longer seemed relevant. The reality of having his lips move against hers far surpassed the callow imaginings she’d allowed herself earlier.

Beth thought she had known what it would be like to kiss him, had thought it would be something primal …something befitting a man as rough, as purely physical as Hector. But instead he was gentle, kissing her as though he sought to memorize each tender taste. The touch of his lips was achingly soft but the effect was not; waves of pleasure rolled through her and she had to grasp his shoulder to steady herself as it threatened to sweep her away.

He withdrew slightly and she made a sound of protest, her eyes fluttering open to look up into his. Her breath caught in her throat at the hunger she saw there, a longing so deep that it caused her heart to pound as if trying to escape her chest. She cradled his face in her hands, whimpering with need as she captured his lips once more.

His close warm scent surrounded her and the more she breathed it in, the more she needed him. His taste was intoxicating, heady as rich red wine, and she moaned against his mouth, greedy for all he would give. How long had it been since she had felt like this? Had she ever reacted in such a way to a simple kiss?

Her arms slid up around his neck and he settled his hands on her hips, pulling her closer as they continued their tender assault upon one another. The apology was nearly forgotten altogether when Hector traced her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, coaxing her mouth open, and their kiss took a turn from needful to desperate.

Heat swirled inside of her, nearly reducing her to tears with its intensity. His tongue eased deeply into her mouth, teasing hers with a slick caress that nearly sent her over the edge. She’d had more than she could take. Her patience finally spent, Beth kept him entranced with the kiss as she let her arms drop, ripping his t-shirt from his jeans so she could slip her hands beneath and at last explore his taut bare skin.

Suddenly Hector pulled back, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “Lovely ’Lizabeth,” he gasped, lifting her arms from around his waist. He folded her hands into his and gathered them to his chest, trying to keep them still. “What was in yer head, doin’ somethin’ like that?”

“What? Why…why are you stopping?” she panted, trying to free her arms so she could hold him again. She stared up at him in hazy confusion.

“Can’t happen, not like this.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” She lunged towards him but he turned his face away, shaking his head.

“Right now ye kiss me as though yer life depends on it, but I’m wonderin’ – what is it as drives yer lust? I’m not of a mind to be turnin’ ye down, girl, but I’ll not have ye take this course out of regret or fear.”

Beth’s heart was still pounding, her desire sending unbearable jolts through her lower body. “You can’t tell me you don’t want this! Damn you, you’ve done everything possible to seduce me since you stepped foot on my ship!”

“’Course I want ye,” he replied, his voice lower. “Have ye not wondered at me absence these three days past? Almost took ye that first day, hurt though ye were. Couldn’t trust meself not to try again.”

“But...ARGH! So what you’re saying is that I’m so incredibly delicate that I can’t possibly make a rational decision, that I am only doing this because I’m scared or feel as if I owe you?!” She was practically shaking from frustration and want.

“I think ye might not know yer own mind.” He lifted his chin defiantly.

Saving her from herself…that was rich! “Here is what I think, Mr. Outlaw Biker!” she shouted, shoving him backwards with all the strength she could muster. She pushed him so hard, in fact, that before he could stop his momentum, he hit one of the pilot house windows hard enough to crack it. She didn’t care; it was worth the look of surprise on his face.

Beth followed him and grabbed fistfuls of his t-shirt. “I think that you like to play with your prey. I think that you’re afraid to lose control of the situation, so now you’re putting on the brakes and pretending it’s the noble thing to do. Or maybe…” she whispered, standing on her tiptoes so he would be sure to hear, “Maybe you’re not capable of taking it any further.”

The last word had barely left her lips when he roared, grabbing her wrists and spinning her around so she was trapped between him and the glass. He held both her hands above her head with one of his, savaging her mouth with a kiss that sent shockwaves down through her womb.

Beth parted her lips to welcome him, desperate again for the taste of his desire. She needed more than kisses now, though. As if he had read her thoughts, Hector slipped his knee in between her legs and she wrapped her calf around his hip, riding him slowly to relieve some of the nearly unbearable ache throbbing at the crux of her thighs.

His beard was harsh against the delicate skin of her face, but the friction was delicious and only fuelled her need further. Slowly his free hand slipped beneath her shirt, his breathing harsh as his wonderful fingers journeyed up her ribs to find her breast. Beth arched into his touch, moaning as his thumb traced an excruciating path around her tight nipple.

“Ye’ll find no mercy here now, Elizabeth Swann,” he growled. “I’ll grant ye no quarter.”

“Anything you want,” she cried. “Just…please, my hands…I need to touch you…”

He made a sound deep in his throat and released his hold upon her, and she nearly crowed with her victory. As he returned to devouring her lips, she tugged and tore at his shirt once more. They drew apart for just an instant so she could pull it over his head and run her hands over the smooth planes of his chest. It was his turn to bow his back as her teeth found their mark, his breath shuddering from his lungs as she bit down and then soothed him with a brush of her fingers.

The bandana had slipped to the floor with his top and his hair slid over his shoulders, glinting like copper in the sunlight. Unable to help herself, she pushed a hand into its burnished softness, tugging him back in so she could savour those wonderful lips of his again.

Her loose hand snaked down between them, finding the impossibly hard ridge of his arousal bulging against skin-tight jeans. Beth squeezed, causing him to gasp and thrust against her palm. Her heart soared to know she’d brought him to this point, undone by his need for her.

“What do you want, Hector?” she murmured, leaning over to lick a line up his neck to the sensitive, throbbing point beneath his jaw. At the same time, she continued to stroke him, dragging her nails up and down the long stiff swell of his erection.

“To have ye beneath me,” Hector rasped, his breath hitching with each touch of her fingers. “To have ye cry me name and beg fer release!”

Beth let out a trembling sigh. “I want that, too. Now.”

He was steering her towards the stairs when they heard the sound – the roar of high powered boat engines, approaching quickly. They looked at one another, the spell broken at once. Beth could hear members of Hector’s gang outside taking up the alarm. One of the crew, a lean and homely man with a glass eye, clambered up onto the Morgan LeFay and came rushing towards the pilot house. “Cap’n Barbossa! Oh…!”

He stopped abruptly at the sight of them tangled together, out of breath and disheveled. The poor man turned away so quickly that he stumbled over his own feet. “Beggin’ yer pardon, miss. Cap’n, three boats, heading in fast!”

“Thankee, Master Ragetti. Arm yerselves, I’ll be right along.” He wrapped his arms around her once again and tried to compose himself as soon as the other man had left. The real world could intrude in an instant – Beth had forgotten about that in the sway of her hunger. She buried her face in his shoulder, holding him tightly one last time before reluctantly letting him go.

“Ye’ll be stayin’ put, do ye understan’?” Hector warned, sweeping the hair from his face with one hand while he retrieved his t-shirt. “I haven’t the strength to argue the point with ye right now.”

Beth nodded, silently accepting his demand. She couldn’t have followed if she’d wanted – her legs weren’t capable of carrying her anywhere. He looked at her one last time, clearly lamenting the necessity of his departure before he followed Ragetti and went to face whoever had dared to disrupt the inevitable.