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This entire situation was ridiculous, so much so that James could barely process the way his heart ached. His fiancée’s affection for the Turner boy did not exactly come as a surprise, but the blacksmith-turned-pirate’s overt declaration of love seemed to have temporarily robbed her of her senses. Now here Elizabeth was, publicly standing by the side of a man with dubious loyalties to protect a criminal.
He could not allow his feelings to get in the way just now. Turner may have done wrong, but he was at least guided by a moral compass. The pirate captain behind him, however, was another beast entirely.
Still, he hadn’t the wherewithal to determine a course of action when Captain Jack Sparrow suddenly stepped forward and entered his personal space without a care. “I want you to know that I was rooting for you, mate.” James held his ground but was unable to keep from recoiling as the filthy man leaned in far too close to whisper this supposed support. “Know that.”
Sparrow began backing away toward the edge of the fort, the same area Elizabeth had fallen from before everything had become so fantastical and complicated. Surely he was not about to dive into the ocean from this height. Elizabeth had been incredibly fortunate to survive her fall, and Sparrow’s attempt may be nothing short of suicide.
“Friends, this is the day that you will always remember as the day that —.”
And he tumbled over the edge. At least this might save them some time on organizing another hanging.
James rushed to the edge, wondering if he would catch the pirate’s final moments.
There was an instant after the splash where he thought that would be it.
“Idiot,” Gillette said from beside him. “He’s nowhere to go but back to the noose.”
But what if Elizabeth and Turner had a point about him? All the problems, the pirate attack, Elizabeth’s kidnapping, even her joining Turner’s side against all reason just now — he would like to blame it all on Sparrow, but then he would also have to give him credit where it was due.
He had rescued Elizabeth from the same fall, after all.
And then the pirate resurfaced, apparently fine despite the haphazard plunge.
“Sail ho!”
James’ eyes shot up to see the Black Pearl approaching, the ship Elizabeth had explained was commandeered during the battle on the Dauntless.
“Orders, sir?” Gillette prompted.
James hesitated, dropping his gaze down to the man now swimming toward the approaching vessel.
He could let him go. That might wipe out the debt from Elizabeth’s rescue, if that had yet to be paid.
“Sir?” Gillette said again, more urgently.
“Perhaps,” Governor Swann interjected, “on the rare occasion pursuing the right course demands an act of piracy, piracy itself can be the right course?”
James smiled softly, casting another glance toward the Pearl.
It was a stupid argument to try and right all this…nonsense.
“Get him,” he ordered instead.
“Commodore!” Elizabeth protested at once.
“Governor, take Miss Swann to the safety of the mansion while we take care of this,” James commanded before either of them could try to argue flawed logic further.
“Commodore Norrington.” Turner had the gall to step in his way as James made to follow his men. “Captain Sparrow —.”
“Must face the consequences for his choices.” James stepped closer, eyes narrowing, to privately add, “As you will for yours. I advise you to consider them carefully.”
The crew of the Black Pearl was safely locked away in the fort, the ship itself under heavy guard, and Captain Jack Sparrow had just been dragged to the Commodore’s office in shackles.
All in all, a good end to the day.
Sparrow wasn’t even paying attention, ignoring the Commodore as he eyed all the valuables and weapons in sight about the office.
“You must have known your escape attempt would fail, Captain,” James said in lieu of a greeting as he got to his feet.
“Can’t blame a man for trying,” Sparrow commented, stepping closer to the desk and casting James a roguish grin. “But I suppose I might have been disappointed if you let a dashing pirate like myself go so easily.”
James lifted his eyebrows incredulously. “Dashing?” he repeated, giving the dirty and still slightly damp man a once-over. “Please, you’re one of the filthiest pirates I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“So you have looked,” Sparrow said, his smile glowing all the brighter. “Though not very well, it seems. Here I thought you’d have encountered the vilest of scallywags.”
“I’m encountering one now,” James replied smoothly.
The shackles clinked as Sparrow raised his hands to his chest with a gasp. “I had no idea you thought so highly of me, Commodore.”
James rolled his eyes as Sparrow tried to sit on the desk, only for the man to misjudge the height and tangle up the chains about his feet and almost fall to the ground instead.
“You are a menace.”
“Do keep it up, darling,” Sparrow purred, gold teeth glinting as he smiled with false levity again.
“I should have guessed you like boys,” James muttered, lowering his gaze to center himself by needlessly shuffling a few papers.
“Men, Commodore,” Sparrow corrected quietly.
James wished he had not looked up just then, finding himself being overly appraised by dark eyes sweeping over him. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, then winced slightly at providing such an obvious tell of his discomfort.
“And women,” Sparrow added lightly.
“And select animals, no doubt,” James replied.
“Only sea turtles, mate,” Sparrow retorted with a wink.
James was surprised by his short huff of a laugh in response to such humor. Trying to talk to Sparrow had been a bad idea, he could see that now. The man would talk circles around him and find pleasure in making him uncomfortable. “I can see this is a complete waste of time. You die on the gallows tomorrow.”
“Now hold on there, mate!” Sparrow said quickly, his eyes widening with a lovely hint of panic. “You didn’t tell me why I was invited here.”
Invited, like he hadn’t been dragged here in chains.
He had a point, though. Sparrow was not currently an actual threat — his words could do no harm.
James sincerely hoped he did not regret this. “I wanted to talk.”
Sparrow blinked, and James felt a small surge of pride at how the honesty had caught the pirate so off guard. “Another jest?”
James shook his head. “I’m serious.” Sparrow eyed him curiously and, for once, said nothing. “You said you were rooting for me.” The pirate nodded slowly, still appearing uncertain of his footing. It was quite nice to see. Sparrow even shifted a touch away once James feigned a smile and stepped around the desk to stand closer to him. “So then, if you were rooting for me, why did you not inform me that the pirates we were facing could not be killed?”
“Noticed that, did you?” Sparrow murmured with a wince. “Your life and happiness weren’t exactly at the top of my list, mate,” he admitted. “Nothing against you — I had to get the Pearl back, you see.”
“Oh yes, and was it worth it?”
Sparrow looked down at the shackles binding his wrists. “Perhaps not.”
James hummed and took another step closer. Sparrow shifted away again, so slightly only the clink of the chains on his ankles gave it away. “You never mentioned that Miss Swann was in love with that blacksmith either.”
“Now I didn’t know that, mate.” James arched a disbelieving eyebrow, and Sparrow sighed. “I knew he loved her. And there were…hints of the reverse, I’ll grant. But again, your life and happiness….”
“Weren’t your priority, yes.” James bit down on a sigh, shifting only to rest his hand on his sword.
The one Turner had apparently forged.
“She talked about him?” James guessed.
“She did so to you as well.”
Damn pirate was correct. It was not as if the proof had been hidden from him. Rescuing Turner had essentially been part of the deal when she accepted his proposal. She’d insisted she would still marry him otherwise, but….
“Did she mention me?” James dared to ask. Sparrow’s averted gaze as he searched for a lie spoke volumes. “Nothing. I see.” He took a few steps back. “And I was deluded enough to believe she cared for me.”
“I think she does, mate,” Sparrow offered in a surprising hint of support.
“She cares for Turner more.”
It was not a question, yet again Sparrow’s silence said everything.
“Brilliant.” James had not determined exactly what to do with Turner. Governor Swann was fond of the boy and seemed intent on letting him get away with his brief stint as a pirate. He probably couldn’t do anything to ensure he’d remain out of Elizabeth’s reach.
“There are plenty of fish in the sea,” Sparrow remarked.
Elizabeth was the only woman James had ever truly cared about. While his service to the Crown put him at risk for others with regularity, she was the one he was willing to do anything for. That included looking for Turner, and even this conversation was, for the most part, fueled by Elizabeth’s obvious affection for the pirate. He could not imagine finding another woman like her. “Not like Miss Swann.”
“No, she’s….” Whatever Sparrow thought of Elizabeth remained private as the pirate trailed off and cleared his throat. “What about…?”
James tried to shake off the sadness and focus on what really mattered. He could not allow such a pirate to go free, but perhaps Elizabeth and Turner had rubbed off on him. He found the idea of watching the man hang far less gratifying than he’d hoped. “I’m afraid I have no choice, Captain.”
Sparrow grimaced. “Gallows, tomorrow. Right.” He reached up to his beard, grabbing one of the braided bits and rolling it between his fingers. “You’re afraid you have no choice?” the man parroted, a sparkle in his eyes as he looked back up at James. “You don’t want me to go to the gallows?”
“Don’t test my patience, Sparrow,” James snapped.
“Or you’ll what?”
James glared, but released his grip on the hilt of his sword. “There’s still time to ruin your final night.”
“You like me, admit it,” Sparrow teased with a grin. James barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. “You’ll find it’s much more fun to keep me around.”
“I’m not sure it’s possible to stretch the meaning of the word fun any further,” James replied coolly.
Sparrow chuckled. “I’d certainly miss your sharp tongue.” James blinked blankly, trying to work out what the pirate meant as the man maneuvered to sit on his desk — successfully, this time. “I could help you with your troubles with the generally fairer sex. Find you another Lizzie — or help you hold onto her.”
It was ludicrous to give Sparrow’s words or potential ‘help’ any weight, but then again James had always had great difficulty reading women. Another perspective wouldn’t necessarily hurt. James smiled at the idea, foolish and unreasonable as it was, that this pirate could offer assistance in that area.
“There, you see!” Sparrow said, motioning toward James’ mouth. “Happier already,” he added with a disarming smile.
James stared back intently, taking him in properly instead of throwing him the occasional disapproving glance per usual. Sparrow was quite a bit shorter than James, closer to Elizabeth’s height. He had all sorts of colorful beads and ornaments braided into his hair, which seemed silly to James but perhaps they held some significance to the pirate. His skin was tanned by life on the sea, but his face was not badly weathered for a pirate captain. But it was his eyes that drew James’ focus. Some kohl that hadn’t washed away remained to frame those eyes that were deep and dark, maddeningly so, with a mysterious sparkle that made one wonder what exactly he was plotting.
Oh yes, Sparrow was always plotting, wasn’t he? Whether James wanted to admit it or not, Sparrow was extremely cunning and could likely get himself out of any situation as long as he had a little luck on his side — which he always seemed to.
Including just now, James realized with an amused smirk. “Oh, you are good,” he said. Sparrow was, naturally, trying to work his way out of this situation — and he’d gotten inside James’ head so well it seemed he was succeeding.
“Is it working, Commodore?” Sparrow asked, maintaining a bright, hopeful smile.
Would it truly be such a sin if James did help the man avoid the gallows? His crew had seemed to be made up of random sailors, with very few putting up any proper fight. One had been an old Royal Navy man, if memory served. And while he had acted with his own interests close to heart, there was that small niggling thought that made James question whether Sparrow had truly been on their side.
Elizabeth had told him afterwards that Sparrow had fought against the other pirates on their behalf. Turner had reported that he had witnessed Sparrow’s attempt to trick the pirates to approach the Dauntless by boat — had that worked, the initial plan Sparrow had crafted to blast them with the cannons, undead or not, would have kept them at bay.
He would likely improve his relationship with Elizabeth if he did not send someone she had deemed a good man to die a criminal’s death.
“I’m not sure,” James said, heading back behind his desk. “What is your opinion of privateering, Captain?”
Sparrow’s eyebrows shot up comically. “It worked?”
“I’m thinking about it,” James replied noncommittally. “You’re a smart man — and you never know when a cunning captain outside the law could prove useful.”
“Well, I suppose if it means avoiding hanging,” Sparrow said slowly, pretending to seriously mull the thought over. “I think privateering is an excellent career choice.”
“Could you follow every order I give you?”
Sparrow’s lips twitched into another grin, and he had an unsettlingly devilish glint in his eyes. “Every order, Commodore?”
James felt his cheeks flush, but refused to acknowledge the unintended innuendo in his statement. “Every order I or a superior gives you, yes,” he clarified. “We likely won’t have many. Keep out of trouble, and you could go on your way as normal.”
“No trouble,” Sparrow repeated. “Definitely.”
James didn’t believe him for a second, but chose to pretend that he did. If they lost contact, it would not come as a surprise. If Sparrow stirred up anything too embarrassing or destructive, the clemency would be revoked and James would go after him to personally ensure it did not happen again.
“If we are in agreement,” Sparrow said, lifting up his hands and shaking his shackles. “Can you remove these, Commodore?”
I’ve probably lost my mind, James considered as he withdrew a key from the desk.
James had expected Captain Sparrow to vanish from Port Royal within the hour of receiving the Letters of Marque. His crew had been released, Lieutenant Gillette had escorted him to the Pearl (after voicing significant protest), and James assumed he would never hear from the man again.
He was therefore incredibly astonished when Lieutenant Groves appeared in his office to announce that Captain Jack Sparrow was there to see him.
James poured two glasses of wine while he waited for Jack to be shown in, knowing full well he would likely ask for rum instead.
When Jack entered, it struck James with odd clarity that the man looked different. He tried to dismiss it as a trick of the candlelight.
Jack threw his arms wide and turned around in a full circle, barely staggering drunkenly at all. “How do I look, Commodore?”
James arched an eyebrow, looking over the man and realizing that he did indeed seem somewhat transformed. He appeared to have had a proper bath, for one. His clothing was also mostly new, save for the same overcoat and some ornamental sashes. He must have done something with his hair, too, the locks a touch shiny instead of dirty and dull, and his goatee had been shaped and trimmed.
He looked more like a respectable captain instead of a pirate. James wondered if he could dare hope that Jack was taking his new employment seriously.
“Clean,” James answered finally, trying not to blush under the scrutiny of those dark eyes that caught him looking so intently.
“You sound surprised, mate.”
“I am.” James pushed the glass of wine across the desk. “What are you doing here?” he asked to recover from his lapse.
Jack shrugged as he accepted the wine. “I just thought that, since we’re such mates now, I should make good on my offer.” He sniffed the wine suspiciously before draining the glass in one impressively long swig.
“We do not yet require your services, Captain,” James stated evenly. “The Royal Navy —.”
“I’m not talking about the Navy,” Jack interrupted as he helped himself to more wine. “I’m here for you.”
James could feel the heat threateningly rising up his neck as Jack raised his glass in his direction before taking another drink. “Me?”
Jack nodded. “You still want to marry Elizabeth, I assume?”
“We are still engaged,” James informed him.
“But you want her to marry you because she wants you, not because of obligation, am I right?”
Jack really was more astute than he generally appeared. “Yes.”
“And I’m going to help you with that,” the pirate — privateer — promised cheerfully.
“You are?” James replied cynically, arching an eyebrow.
“I said I would, remember?” Jack downed the rest of the wine and set down the glass so hard James was certain it would shatter. With a small chuckle, Jack delicately pushed the glass back toward James. “We can start now. What do you see outside?”
James furrowed his brow in confusion as he glanced toward the window. The moon was hiding behind clouds tonight, leaving only the faintest sparkles of light off the waters. “Not much. It’s dark.”
“Because it’s late.”
“Obviously,” James said irritably, wondering if Jack meant to use this offer of help as an excuse to wear on his sanity.
“Meaning you should be done working by now,” Jack said pointedly.
James looked down at his desk. He had a number of reports to finish reviewing, and then there was the extra paperwork that had to do with his fairly insane decision to dub the Pearl a privateering vessel. “But—.”
“Go home, Commodore,” Jack cut over him.
James could not believe that Jack Sparrow was essentially ordering him to leave the fort. “I still have work, Sparrow.”
“It’ll be there tomorrow, mate.” He nodded toward the door. “For now, go home.” James stared at him incredulously. “Listen,” Jack continued with a sigh, sitting on James’ desk and almost knocking over some of those aforementioned reports. “Do you plan on staying here until all hours after you’re married as well?”
James opened his mouth to affirm that yes, he still intended to do his job after marriage just as much as now, but hesitated. He supposed Jack had a point; his wife would expect him to include her in his life.
“Elizabeth won’t appreciate that. Unless, perhaps, she finds someone who is willing to give her some of his time.”
The implication was clear enough. James quickly swallowed down the rest of his wine, then grabbed his coat and hat.
“I never thought I’d be a welcome guest in your home,” Jack said, his eyes roaming the foyer, likely in search of something shiny to pocket.
“Let’s not go as far as welcome, Jack,” James grumbled, which only served to elicit a chuckle as the two entered the parlor. “What are you so happy about?” he asked irritably.
“You called me Jack.”
Something in James’ gut twisted. He hadn’t meant to open the door to any such familiarity. He wasn’t even certain when he stopped thinking of the man as Sparrow or the filthy pirate. Maybe he’d drunk the wine too fast.
“First time for everything, eh, James?”
Heat rose up his neck again. How did Jack even know his given name? “You will address me by my title.”
“At the fort, perhaps,” Jack said with a knowing smirk. “Here, you call me Jack. I call you James. Savvy?”
“Not savvy,” James countered with a glare. “Our arrangement does not make us friends, Sparrow,” he said, careful not to slip again.
Jack’s carefree expression slipped a touch. “If you’re so against it, I’ll call you Commodore, Ja-Commodore.” He sighed a little as he sat on the divan. “But that is something you may need to change.”
“Change?”
“Please tell me Elizabeth doesn’t call you Commodore.” James averted his gaze, hands behind his back to avoid fidgeting uncomfortably. Jack groaned. “You’ve got a problem, mate.”
“She has called me James before,” James protested, feeling further flushed at the realization he could only recall that happening in a single instance.
“Sounds rare,” Jack accurately commented.
The man was far too clever for his own good. “You recommend a first name basis? But that’s —.”
“Not proper?” Jack interrupted, arching an eyebrow. “Elizabeth calls dear William and I by our given names. Seems strange that she wouldn’t call her fiancé by his.” Jack laid out comfortably on the divan and placed his hands behind his head. “So that’s lesson number one!”
James glared at where the man’s boots rested on the divan’s arm, but he chose to say nothing about it. Then he wished he had once he noticed that Jack’s intense gaze was slowly appraising him, up and down, almost like he might be placing value on a whore. A complaint about the man’s barbarism would be a welcome distraction.
“Why do you always wear that wig, Commodore?” Jack asked finally. “And don’t say it’s part of the uniform — I get the feeling this ensemble is rarely removed.”
In an effortless leap from the divan, Jack was suddenly standing directly in front of James and reaching for his wig.
“No!” James exclaimed with alarm, taking a step away and holding up his hands between them in defense.
“Come on, mate — what are you hiding under there? Bald as a baby’s bottom? Pox marks? Off with it.”
James grimaced, deciding that perhaps it was best to play along. He carefully removed the wig, setting it aside before smoothing down some of his dark curls and avoiding looking at Jack — although he wasn’t entirely certain why. He’d seen Jack’s hair in a far worse state.
“Nothing to be ashamed about, there,” Jack said quietly. When James did finally look, he caught Jack looking over his body again. His keen attention was unnerving. “Please say you take off some of that uniform at home.”
“Of course,” James replied, shrugging off his coat. “You can’t honestly believe that I would always wear all that,” he said as he gently placed it over a nearby chair. He reached for his sword as well, then glared suspiciously at Jack before removing it and putting it in a somewhat unusual location atop the high mantle. Jack might not be able to reach it there.
“Anything else, Commodore?” James arched a challenging eyebrow, at which Jack sighed. “Look at the layers you are wearing. One shirt would do just fine.”
It was immensely embarrassing to remove the layers of clothing in front of Jack, but James had to admit that he was gratified to have less clothes restricting him, especially when it was such a humid night. Jack continued looking over James curiously, stroking thoughtfully along his jaw.
“Why do you hide your chest?” he suddenly inquired.
“Pardon?”
“Even your undershirt is all prim and proper,” Jack observed. “Elizabeth wouldn’t mind seeing a bit more of you.”
James properly blushed this time, swallowing anxiously. It was true that, of course, eventually they would know what was under all their clothes, but it wasn’t as if the two would lounge about the house half-nude. “Jack, I don’t….” James trailed off distractedly, suddenly recalling how indecent Elizabeth had been when they found them on the island. Jack had seen more of her than appropriate, and she had surely seen more of him….
With a small smile, Jack caught his attention with a motion to his own attire; while still wearing multiple layers, his coat and shirt were hanging open, revealing a fair portion of his tanned chest with dark hair and all on display. “William doesn’t hide his chest,” Jack commented.
James hoped his evidently long-term flush would be interpreted as anger.
Jack stepped forward, a fond twinkle in his eye. “Commodore?” he prompted, nodding down at James’ chest. The command was clear, but James absolutely refused to disrobe further. It was entirely improper, and it wasn’t as if he had any particular reason to get so relaxed around Jack; and then there were things he’d simply rather Jack not know.
Jack apparently decided to take matters into his own hands.
James barely had an opportunity to react before Jack had forced him against the nearest wall and started unbuttoning James’ undershirt.
“Get off!” James shouted, shoving Jack away so hard the man almost fell back onto the divan.
Those damnably observant eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re hiding something,” Jack muttered. “What, I wonder. A scar, missing nipple, tattoo of a busty mermaid?”
James scoffed, keeping his gaze focused just over Jack’s shoulder as he said, “Nothing. But I’m not indulging you in any further nonsense.”
“Indulging, Commodore?” Jack didn’t tease further, instead reaching to grasp at the hem of his own shirt. “Surely it’s no worse than this,” he said, unusually solemn, before tugging aside the cloth to reveal the scars of a pair of bullet wounds.
This man had an insane amount of luck — perhaps both good and bad. When Jack attempted to approach again, James sharply demanded, “Stay away from me.” Jack did not appear intimidated, but he did remain at arm’s length. Somehow James did not trust that restraint would last. He sighed and unbuttoned the very top buttons, being careful to keep most of his chest covered. “Better?”
“Much,” Jack said with a smile. He smiled quite a lot — maybe he knew he had a charming one. James cleared his throat awkwardly as Jack slowly stepped toward him. His hands were harmlessly down at his sides, but he seemed far too intent on James’ chest. James curled his hand into a fist, wondering if he should strike Jack and if that would even help fend the man off; and then he was startled when Jack asked, “Is that a tattoo?”
James glanced down and quickly tugged the fabric of his shirt over the mark, but Jack pushed his hand away.
His heart raced painfully as he waited. Jack might make some joke, but it might also be a good indicator of what was coming whenever Elizabeth finally saw it.
“James…I mean Commodore.” Jack swallowed and tugged the shirt back over what remained of the anchor tattoo and the streaks of scar tissue from the attempted removal. “Nothing to be ashamed of,” he said in an echo to his comment about the hair. “It doesn’t look as bad from down here.” James couldn’t help but look, catching Jack’s wink.
Same height as Elizabeth. Right.
“I don’t think you should fear showing it off. It shows character,” Jack said with a somewhat forced smile. James rolled his eyes, but found the effort strangely appreciated. “Now, what’s next….”
Jack swayed a little as he took a lap about the room. James watched intently as the man picked up everything along the way for brief examination, including James’ wig.
“Ah, compliments!” he exclaimed finally. “One of the most important things to remember about women — they live for compliments.”
“I am fairly certain that is not the case,” James muttered.
“They’ll blush and claim it isn’t true or whatnot, but they like it. Hair, clothes, bosom, what have you, compliment it,” Jack said, ignoring James’ comment entirely.
Both men jumped as they heard an urgent knock on the front door. James shooed Jack into the adjoining room before going to see who had come to call on him at this hour. It must be some sort of emergency. He shouldn’t have left the fort.
It wasn’t an officer or runner, or anyone else James could have guessed might turn up this late.
Elizabeth gave a half-hearted curtsy before stepping inside without invitation. “Commodore, I apologize for the hour, but I —.” She froze as she turned to face him, which was when James realized what Jack’s efforts had done to his propriety. He struggled not to apologize, trying to cling to Jack’s certainty that Elizabeth would appreciate him a bit less…proper. “Commodore?” She repeated, brushing aside a couple blonde curls.
“Miss Swann,” James replied automatically; he swore he could feel Jack’s flinch. “Elizabeth.” It came out too quiet, whispered like a secret rather than any confident declaration. Maybe there was a chance her ongoing, stunned silence was due to mere surprise instead of any offense. “No need to apologize. I’m delighted to see you.” James wasn’t sure where the boldness came from, but he reached out to touch one of those beautiful golden locks, gently tucking it behind Elizabeth’s ear. “You look beautiful.”
“I — thank you,” she replied softly, and maybe the foyer was dark but it looked like her cheeks tinged pink.
“Please, come in and sit down,” James offered, guiding her over to the parlor. “What brings you here, Elizabeth?” It seemed easier to say her name the second time as they sat down on the divan side by side.
“A…a few things, Commodore.” She hesitated, smoothing down her skirts.
“James.”
He wondered if that was an overstep when Elizabeth looked at him with some confusion. “Beg pardon?”
“My name is James. No need to stand on ceremony.” He bit the inside of his lip, hoping this was the case.
“Oh. Right,” Elizabeth said, looking him over again with her attention lingering on his chest. A quick glance downward did confirm that some of the tattoo and scarring was showing, but she did not ask after it. “I…one of the reasons I came here was to ask about Jack.”
James’ eyes darted over toward the door he suspected Jack was leaning against to eavesdrop. “What about Jack? Captain Sparrow,” he corrected mere moments too late.
“He, his crew…you can’t possibly mean to hang them, James. Jack saved my life, and—.”
“Elizabeth,” James interrupted gently. “No need to worry about them.”
“I know you think all such men are irredeemable, but I must ask you to reconsider.”
James smiled kindly. “Jack’s a privateer now, Elizabeth.”
Her jaw dropped, eyes widening with shock. Then she regathered some of her cool propriety, her lips curled into a frown of suspicion. “You’re lying.” It was an accusation, yet it sounded far more like a doubtful question.
“I can’t very well send the man who helped save your life to the gallows. Perhaps it was wrong to do so in the first place,” he admitted quietly. “But especially with that show of loyalty, of….” James trailed off, remembering how Elizabeth had stepped forward and taken Turner’s hand before stating that she belonged between James and Jack as well.
Elizabeth lowered her eyes, cheeks somewhat flushed as she nodded. “Thank you. I am sorry to have intruded. Perhaps I should return tomorrow,” she said as she got to her feet.
“You are always welcome here, Elizabeth,” James said as he stood, holding out his hand. Elizabeth smiled somewhat shyly before placing her hand on his and allowing him to guide her back out of his home. “If you would like, I could…would you like me to accompany you?”
“Estrella is waiting for me, and it’s not far. But thank you,” she said again as she curtsied before heading out into the night.
Jack burst into the parlor as soon as James returned. “Well done, Commodore! Such a quick learner,” he praised with a pleased grin. “Christian names, compliments, and agreeing with her about your mistake with trying to get me killed,” he added with a wink. “You managed to woo her enough to keep her from her original goal.”
James’ eyes narrowed. Jack couldn’t possibly know what Elizabeth intended. She had seemed truly surprised by his freedom, so it wasn’t as if they’d met since he was released.
“You didn’t know?” Jack said with a little wince. “Well, you are still learning. She came to ask you to break off your engagement.”
James’ heart lodged in his throat. “She…she did?” That made sense, didn’t it? She clearly wanted to be with Turner, and even asking about Jack seemed to imply that she was thinking about the escape attempt orchestrated by the man she loved.
James slumped down onto the divan. What was even the point of holding onto her if she was never going to be truly his?
“Oi, mate, get up,” Jack said, gesturing for James to stand. “It’s obvious we aren’t done with your lessons, Commodore!”
James should be upfront. Tell Jack he was grateful for his time, but there was no purpose to this and he might as well save himself the trouble. It wasn’t like James wanted to spend more time with Jack. Therefore he should now say that this was a waste of both their time and that he’d reach out later with an appropriate mission once such a thing crossed his desk.
He didn’t.
How the formerly notorious pirate Captain Jack Sparrow knew so much about women, James could not understand. The man was crude, an outlaw, and usually quite filthy. Yet here he was, teaching James how to properly woo his betrothed. The entire situation was laughable, but James’ brief encounter with Elizabeth proved that Jack did, somehow, know what he was doing.
“Jack,” James interrupted in the middle of a rant about the importance of anniversaries — a lesson it sounded like Jack may have learned the hard way. “Are you married?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Jack chuckled. “Do I seem like the marrying type?”
James conceded an amused smile. “Not particularly. You merely appear to have a lot of experience.”
“Oh, very much. I don’t need to be married to have relationships with women.”
Jack did not elaborate, immediately returning to his ‘lessons’ but without any further references to how he might have discovered them. He also pulled out a flask and offered James a drink, which under any sane circumstances James would have refused, but instead he accepted and took a rather hearty sip of rum. It didn’t occur to him to locate a glass.
James found himself listening without fully taking it all in, instead becoming oddly relaxed by the conversation and entranced by Jack’s exaggerated gestures. It wasn’t until Jack suddenly asked, “Have you kissed Elizabeth?” that he abruptly returned to reality.
“No, I haven’t,” James answered, somewhat embarrassed. As someone entirely improper, Jack would have no qualms about intimacy before marriage. Indeed he’d claimed he wasn’t the marrying type.
“Very gentlemanly of you,” Jack muttered. “But you have kissed girls before?”
James turned away, cursing his darkening cheeks. Was he meant to have? That couldn’t be appropriate. He’d rarely had the urge to do such a thing, and even if he had he had no idea how.
“Oh, dear,” Jack said with a small sigh. “All right…most of it is instinctive, but don’t scare her off by being too eager.” Jack thought for a moment before taking a step toward James. “And wait for the opportune moment — but not longer, savvy?”
James backed away when Jack stepped nearer.
“When that opportune moment arises, you take it,” Jack added in a hushed voice, a hand slowly reaching for James’ face. James tried to step away again only to back into the wall, and Jack was too close, far too close. “Keep eye contact, Commodore,” Jack added quietly, and James was helpless but to look. Jack’s eyes were almost black given the shadows, but that warm, playful glint remained as the cold metal of the rings on his fingers pressed against James’ cheek.
What the hell was he doing? He was so close James could feel his breath against his mouth, his lips so near that even speaking would likely close the distance. His heart pounded furiously as he tried to think of what to do, but all he could focus on were those eyes, the fingers on his cheek, and the scent of rum.
And then Jack stepped back, his hand slipping from James’ cheek.
“After that it’s intuition, really.” Jack took a slow breath and flexed his fingers. “Be aware of what she wants. But don’t be afraid to take what you want, savvy?”
James’ mouth was extremely dry. “Got it,” James gasped breathlessly, trying to clear his throat to cover his sudden nerves and the curiously cold pit in his stomach.
Jack smiled again, somewhat less cheerfully than before. “That’s probably all I can teach you. The rest you should find out on your own, anyway,” Jack added, casting a wink before turning toward the window with a slight frown. “I believe I may have overstayed my welcome.”
Recalling how he’d so callously made Jack feel decidedly unwelcome earlier, yet how friendly and helpful the man had proved anyway, James swallowed his pride and said, “I don’t mind your company, Jack.”
“Good to be appreciated,” Jack murmured, jabbing his thumb toward the window. “But my ship is leaving Port Royal today. I ought to be on it.”
The sun was rising. They’d spent the entire night talking.
“You had a lot to learn, Commodore,” Jack teased with a small bow. “And so I bid thee farewell.”
“You’re leaving now?” James could not help but feel a bit…disappointed.
Jack nodded and backed away. “You’ll always remember this as the day that —.” He proceeded to trip over a tea table and fall hard on his backside. James put a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh as Jack got back to his feet. “Not the exit I wanted,” he muttered irritably, rubbing his arse with a wince.
“Goodbye, Jack.”
Jack tilted his hat. “Commodore.”
And then he was gone.
Captain Jack adored Tortuga. One could find all sorts of people and trouble here. There was never a dull moment and always something to get the blood pumping. He entered his favorite tavern — the new favorite since he’d been kicked out of the last one — and bought a drink while looking over all the sailors and pirates and wenches. His eyes finally settled on a man in the corner who was wearing what appeared suspiciously like a Royal Navy hat and coat. Jack tilted his head, trying to get a better look at the man. Although all types of men and women found themselves in Tortuga, such officers were rare. More likely a pirate who’d taken a liking to the attire of a victim.
He told himself it was merely curiosity that guided him closer to the man. Nothing to do with his recent proclivity for former military sorts or role playing as such. The man’s hat was low over his eyes, hiding most of his face, but what Jack could see was certainly attractive and he appeared well built. Pity he appeared to be asleep. He was asleep, right? Jack leaned a touch closer to check for signs of breathing, catching a small movement of the man’s chest rising and falling.
His gaze lingered as he squinted at what appeared to be the edge of a tattoo peeking out from the man’s open shirt. Something about it was familiar, bringing to mind sharp jade eyes and —.
Jack shook his head and stepped back a pace. He really needed to stop thinking about the Commodore. Foolish to be so sentimental about a man who’d sooner hang him.
Probably best to leave the stranger be. Jack tore his eyes away, looking for some other companion for the evening.
He almost spilled his drink when a charming voice suddenly greeted, “Captain Jack Sparrow. It’s been too long.”
Jack recognized the voice at once, but did not believe it until the Navy man pushed the hat back and looked up with sparkling green eyes and an alluring grin.
“Commodore!” Jack exclaimed. The conversation nearby him died in an instant, a few sailors awkwardly shuffling away and out of the tavern. “Sorry about that,” Jack apologized as he sat down beside him.
“I think calling me James would be far more appropriate for this setting,” James replied, taking a drink from his own mug.
“What are you doing here?” Jack had to ask. “Never thought I’d see such a gentleman in Tortuga.”
He did still appear the part of a gentleman, even without a full uniform or wig and with his shirt hanging so far open Jack could see all the way down to his navel. Maybe not quite as much of a gentleman as usual, but he was certainly cleaner than most tavern patrons. But he was smiling a little too much, wasn’t he? It was soft, friendly, and unusually at ease.
“I came to find you, Jack.”
Ah, right. Jack had, perhaps, been skirting his assignments and avoiding the messengers. “The sea’s a big place,” he began as an excuse. “Anything can happen, and —.”
“I wanted to thank you,” James interrupted before taking another drink.
“Thank — oh! You and Elizabeth work out?” Jack already knew they’d married. It seemed Elizabeth must have pressured the Commodore into sending Jack an invitation, but Jack knew better than to turn up at such an occasion.
He also hadn’t felt any particular urge to see the two bound in holy matrimony. The idea made his stomach twist a bit.
James’ smile faded. “We are married, yes. For a time…it was perfect.” James took a very deep drink this time.
Oh dear. Jack was decidedly not the person to help with the sort of broken heart it seemed James had brought to Tortuga. Still, he put a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder and asked, “What happened, mate?”
“Came back from a stint at sea to find Turner in our bed,” James said, clenching his jaw. “Had been going on behind my back for months.”
Jack grimaced. “Oh. I…I’m sorry, James.” Jack shivered, then blinked with confusion, wondering why that happened when he wasn’t cold. No part of him was cold, in fact.
James smiled appreciatively. “Thank you. It’s not so bad, really. We’re still married, we get along otherwise. And while I’m in Port Royal she remains loyal.” James’ fist clenched. “Bloody Turner. I should have known this would happen.”
“Would it help if I killed him for you?” Jack suggested.
James chuckled darkly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I did briefly consider hiring someone to do that.” He sighed. “But no. That would make Elizabeth very unhappy. And I want her to be happy.”
“You deserve happiness too, mate,” Jack said, squeezing the man’s shoulder.
James was silent for a few moments, taking some sips of what Jack now realized was rum — the man was downing it like an experienced pirate. His tongue flicked between his lips to capture a stray drop before he said, “That’s why I’m here.”
Jack knew it was probably a bad sign for someone like the Commodore to show up in a place like Tortuga to find such happiness, but he couldn’t help but be delighted. “You’ve come to the right place.”
“I had hoped,” James said, huffing a laugh. “All that work to win her heart, however temporarily, and…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about someone else.”
Jack raised an intrigued eyebrow. “You…really? Sorry about getting you caught up in matrimony already.”
“No, I still thank you for that, Jack,” James said quickly. “It doesn’t especially matter — they aren’t exactly open to marriage.”
“She’s married?” Jack asked, unable to keep an amused smirk from tugging at his lips.
“No, he isn’t.”
James was smiling into his mug, glittering eyes not quite meeting Jack’s. “He?” Jack repeated, watching the faint flush crawl up James’ neck with far more focus than that insultingly smooth expanse of skin deserved. “Wait, I have to guess. Do I know ‘im?”
“Yes,” James answered without hesitation.
“The little guy, does anything for you despite his better judgement. What’s his name, the one that escorted me back to my ship?”
James snorted. “Gillette, and no.”
“But he’s Royal Navy?”
“No.”
“Turner?” Jack immediately raised his hands in surrender, flinching back from James’ glare. “I didn’t think that one through.”
“Apparently,” James scowled. As the silence stretched, Jack wondered if he’d entirely soured the mood and ruined any chance of learning who, aside from Elizabeth, had caught the Commodore’s eye. But then that smooth, pleasant tone returned as James asked, “Would you like a hint?”
“Seems I could use one.”
The words had barely left his tongue before James had leaned in close, a hand reaching to Jack’s cheek. The scent of rum tickled his nostrils, long, strong fingers stroked his jaw, and he was left with nowhere to look but into darkened, jade eyes.
The eyes of a hunter, Jack couldn't help but think. Sharp, intent, beautiful as jewels.
“He taught me to take the opportune moment,” James whispered. He leaned forward, hand cupping Jack’s face, and then their mouths were pressed together and Jack’s mind simply went blank.
It would be polite to close his eyes — but no, his eyes had fluttered shut of their own accord. Grab onto him — he’d done that, too, his hand clutching at the lapel of James’ coat. Push him away — no, that wasn’t right.
As if somehow reading his mind, James pulled back just enough to huff a breathless chuckle before returning to the task of quite thoroughly and exquisitely kissing Jack. A tongue ran over his mouth, and Jack allowed his lips to part without thinking. It all tasted like rum but Jack would swear James’ taste added extra heat as the man licked into his mouth, drifted over his teeth, teased at his tongue.
It was over far too soon, although at first James lingered close, breathing against him almost teasingly. Finally he leaned back, his tongue darting between his smirking lips.
“You’re not getting another hint.”
Jack tried to clear his throat, managing more of a cough. James’ gaze somehow felt as intimate as the kiss. “I don’t think I’ll need one,” Jack managed.
James beamed as he reached for his rum. “Good.”
After knocking back a burning swig himself, Jack tried to feign confidence and said, “I knew you’d warm up to me.”
James laughed and Jack was certainly not having feelings about how beautiful and rare the sound was. “Oh, really? What fortune teller do you see, because mine is rubbish.”
“I don’t hate you enough to introduce you,” Jack muttered, running a finger along the rim of his mug. “So, James,” he went on before James could press. “Did you come here to thank me, or were there some…orders you wished to give me?”
It was probably illegal, somewhere, for such a boyish smile to turn so temptingly wicked.