Dark of the Moon (29/36)
More of the unresolved sexual tension that is Dark of the Moon. Thanks again to hereswith for the quick and thorough beta.
[Part 29]
It was not all right. Not by any means.
After Jack left the cabin, Letty could barely contain herself. She angrily set the bolt with the deliberate care she should have used earlier, then threw herself down on his cot and gave a dry sob of fury. And mortification. And… and…
And what?
She wrapped the blanket tight around her and curled onto her side, facing the bulkhead. Tears, which she felt would be more than appropriate, would not come, though her breast heaved with agitation.
Don’t worry. It’s all right.
What an absurdity!
How could it be all right when her skin burned as though his gaze upon it had seared her! And the back of her neck, where he had caught her. And her lips, where he had kissed her.
Where she longed again for his kiss.
“Oh!” she exclaimed and turned onto her back. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, and there he was again, staring at her, taking in her nakedness with startled, but undisguised fascination.
She opened her eyes, and said aloud to the paneled ceiling. “Jack Sparrow, you are an evil, evil man.”
*
And then, to add to her discomfort, he would barely speak to her when he returned! Which was not for several hours.
“Sorry about this afternoon, lass,” he said, chucking her under the chin.
She set her teeth.
“We’d sighted a ship, but turned out ‘twas Royal Navy. We’ve laid on sail and shown ‘em our backside. It’ll add a day to our journey, but that can’t be helped.”
“How very inconvenient for you,” Letty said, stiffly.
“And you, eh?”
She hesitated only a very little before replying, “Of course.”
They dined with the Captain, along with William Turner and Hector Barbossa. She did not think it her imagination: Jack’s manner was less attentive than usual. And he excused himself before the fruit and nuts were laid before them. “Bill will see you back to the cabin. I’ve got some business to take care of.”
Later, walking back across the deck with Mr. Turner, Letty did feel like weeping. But that was ridiculous. She should be thankful for Jack’s restraint. His… his indifference.
*
Perversely, she was not thankful.
She was left to her own devises a great deal during the next two days, and therefore mostly confined to Jack’s cabin. When he did come for her, to take her topside for “an airing” or to the Great Cabin for a meal, he seemed almost annoyed, then behaved very coolly to her.
He did not retire until late each evening, when she might have been presumed to be asleep. He did not bother to light the lantern, but she could hear him in the blackness, moving about as he stripped off his clothing, climbed into the hammock, composed himself for slumber. Letty lay long awake, listening to the quiet of the Pearl’s fair weather lullaby, the rush of waves washing against her sides, the creak of her dark wood. She listened, too, for the gentle snoring that usually accompanied the sleep of her captor, but that did not come.
*
The morning of their final day at sea they broke their fast with Captain Tobias. He said they’d arrive at Barbados by dawn of the next day, though they would anchor some way from Bridgetown.
“Jack, you’ll go to contact Huff as soon as may be, but go warily: we don’t want any mishaps. You know the way. Too many of Georgie’s ships hoverin’ about here.”
They began a discussion of the various naval ships that might be in the vicinity. Not a subject to which Letty could contribute much. She sat brooding, picking at her food, and watching Jack, discretely.
He had been quite brusque with her earlier, when she had been slow in preparing to go up to the Great Cabin. Her hair again. He’d grabbed the brush from her and snapped, “Here, I’ll do it. What a helpless goose you are! Turn around.” He’d not touched her hair in two days, yet now he was insisting! She had wanted to refuse him, but her voice caught in her throat and her eyes stung. From his expression, she was sure he would hurt her, and steeled herself. But he had not. He had been as careful as ever, though he was silent throughout. A single tear did escape, to slip down her cheek. She quietly brushed it away, and, though she thought he must have noticed, he had said nothing.
He seemed subdued this morning, as though it was an effort to maintain his usual cheerful energy. His great, dark eyes looked tired. He hadn’t slept well.
Just as she had not.
When they were through with breakfast, Bootstrap was again assigned the task of returning her to the cabin. She said little as he escorted her back across the deck and down into the heart of the ship. But when they reached Jack’s cabin door, Letty turned to Bill, peering up at him in the dim light.
“May I ask you something?”
Bill looked rueful and somewhat wary, but said, “Of course, ma’am.”
“Is he… is he angry with me?”
Bill laughed shortly. “No! With circumstances. Or himself, maybe.”
“But he’s been so different, since… these last two days.”
He frowned. “He’s doing his best, I think. To keep a respectful distance. It ain’t easy here, in the confines of a ship, and with you in his cabin day and night. I don’t know what happened between you two days ago, but it’s pushed him right to the edge. He’s trying to keep his distance so he won’t do something he’ll regret.”
She stared, a frisson of… of something coursing through her. And yet she spoke again, wanting more. “Something he’ll regret?”
“Or that you will.” Bill shook his head. “Come now, ma’am, you know what I’m speakin’ of.”
Letty opened her mouth to deny it, but felt her cheeks growing hot, with shame, and with an odd sort of joy. She was very thankful that Bill could not see her clearly. But then it was possible he heard it in her voice, anyway.
“Yes, Mr. Turner. I think I can guess.”
*
TBC
[Part 29]
It was not all right. Not by any means.
After Jack left the cabin, Letty could barely contain herself. She angrily set the bolt with the deliberate care she should have used earlier, then threw herself down on his cot and gave a dry sob of fury. And mortification. And… and…
And what?
She wrapped the blanket tight around her and curled onto her side, facing the bulkhead. Tears, which she felt would be more than appropriate, would not come, though her breast heaved with agitation.
Don’t worry. It’s all right.
What an absurdity!
How could it be all right when her skin burned as though his gaze upon it had seared her! And the back of her neck, where he had caught her. And her lips, where he had kissed her.
Where she longed again for his kiss.
“Oh!” she exclaimed and turned onto her back. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, and there he was again, staring at her, taking in her nakedness with startled, but undisguised fascination.
She opened her eyes, and said aloud to the paneled ceiling. “Jack Sparrow, you are an evil, evil man.”
*
And then, to add to her discomfort, he would barely speak to her when he returned! Which was not for several hours.
“Sorry about this afternoon, lass,” he said, chucking her under the chin.
She set her teeth.
“We’d sighted a ship, but turned out ‘twas Royal Navy. We’ve laid on sail and shown ‘em our backside. It’ll add a day to our journey, but that can’t be helped.”
“How very inconvenient for you,” Letty said, stiffly.
“And you, eh?”
She hesitated only a very little before replying, “Of course.”
They dined with the Captain, along with William Turner and Hector Barbossa. She did not think it her imagination: Jack’s manner was less attentive than usual. And he excused himself before the fruit and nuts were laid before them. “Bill will see you back to the cabin. I’ve got some business to take care of.”
Later, walking back across the deck with Mr. Turner, Letty did feel like weeping. But that was ridiculous. She should be thankful for Jack’s restraint. His… his indifference.
*
Perversely, she was not thankful.
She was left to her own devises a great deal during the next two days, and therefore mostly confined to Jack’s cabin. When he did come for her, to take her topside for “an airing” or to the Great Cabin for a meal, he seemed almost annoyed, then behaved very coolly to her.
He did not retire until late each evening, when she might have been presumed to be asleep. He did not bother to light the lantern, but she could hear him in the blackness, moving about as he stripped off his clothing, climbed into the hammock, composed himself for slumber. Letty lay long awake, listening to the quiet of the Pearl’s fair weather lullaby, the rush of waves washing against her sides, the creak of her dark wood. She listened, too, for the gentle snoring that usually accompanied the sleep of her captor, but that did not come.
*
The morning of their final day at sea they broke their fast with Captain Tobias. He said they’d arrive at Barbados by dawn of the next day, though they would anchor some way from Bridgetown.
“Jack, you’ll go to contact Huff as soon as may be, but go warily: we don’t want any mishaps. You know the way. Too many of Georgie’s ships hoverin’ about here.”
They began a discussion of the various naval ships that might be in the vicinity. Not a subject to which Letty could contribute much. She sat brooding, picking at her food, and watching Jack, discretely.
He had been quite brusque with her earlier, when she had been slow in preparing to go up to the Great Cabin. Her hair again. He’d grabbed the brush from her and snapped, “Here, I’ll do it. What a helpless goose you are! Turn around.” He’d not touched her hair in two days, yet now he was insisting! She had wanted to refuse him, but her voice caught in her throat and her eyes stung. From his expression, she was sure he would hurt her, and steeled herself. But he had not. He had been as careful as ever, though he was silent throughout. A single tear did escape, to slip down her cheek. She quietly brushed it away, and, though she thought he must have noticed, he had said nothing.
He seemed subdued this morning, as though it was an effort to maintain his usual cheerful energy. His great, dark eyes looked tired. He hadn’t slept well.
Just as she had not.
When they were through with breakfast, Bootstrap was again assigned the task of returning her to the cabin. She said little as he escorted her back across the deck and down into the heart of the ship. But when they reached Jack’s cabin door, Letty turned to Bill, peering up at him in the dim light.
“May I ask you something?”
Bill looked rueful and somewhat wary, but said, “Of course, ma’am.”
“Is he… is he angry with me?”
Bill laughed shortly. “No! With circumstances. Or himself, maybe.”
“But he’s been so different, since… these last two days.”
He frowned. “He’s doing his best, I think. To keep a respectful distance. It ain’t easy here, in the confines of a ship, and with you in his cabin day and night. I don’t know what happened between you two days ago, but it’s pushed him right to the edge. He’s trying to keep his distance so he won’t do something he’ll regret.”
She stared, a frisson of… of something coursing through her. And yet she spoke again, wanting more. “Something he’ll regret?”
“Or that you will.” Bill shook his head. “Come now, ma’am, you know what I’m speakin’ of.”
Letty opened her mouth to deny it, but felt her cheeks growing hot, with shame, and with an odd sort of joy. She was very thankful that Bill could not see her clearly. But then it was possible he heard it in her voice, anyway.
“Yes, Mr. Turner. I think I can guess.”
*
TBC