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marysuevirus2011-09-01 06:33 pm
ladydeathfaerie) wrote in marysuevirus2011-09-01 06:33 pm
Entry tags:
- author: ladydeathfaerie,
- character: clint barton,
- character: dare scott,
- character: haley stone,
- character: harper stone,
- character: jehnna d'abo,
- character: johnny storm,
- character: morgan lafavre,
- character: roxxy stewart,
- character: steve rogers,
- character: tony stark,
- universe: marvel,
- universe: marvel au
The Flight of the Valkyrie
Title: The Flight of The Valkyrie
Chapter Fourteen: Missing
Fandom: something like the Marvel Universe
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: lots of sex and violence, language, anything else i can toss in. flagrant abuse of a Scots accent and loads of pirates. much badly mangled pirate speech
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of Marvel. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. the Sues are the sole property of their originators, Ginevra, Dazzledfirestar, Nanaea, SilverFoxChan and ladydeathfaerie. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar.
The Flight of the Valkyrie - The Index
Morgan strode onto the deck and looked around. As expected, the crew was moving with vigor, preparing the sloop to set sail. The tide would be going out soon and she wanted to be out to sea before that happened. Especially since a glance across the bay showed her that the red and gold corvette belonging to Lord Anthony Stark idly riding the faint waves that rolled in toward the shore. The petite Frenchwoman didn't like the fact that the man was here in Kennewycke and now, thinking on it, she could recall seeing it plenty of other times when the crew of The Valkyrie had been ashore.
Her mind turned back to the confession Dare had made shortly after they'd left the safety of Thor's island. For as long as Dare had been part of her crew, they'd made regular stops in the quaint little seaside village of Kennewycke. It had been at Dare's suggestion, of course. And Morgan had never thought anything of it. But now, she thought she understood. This was the place where she and Stark would meet. Where she would get her orders. Where Stark would use her for his own purposes. And the man was using her. Morgan was sure of it.
Men talked. It was a fact of nature. Men liked to bear tales to their friends, stories of conquest and wenching. It was the way of men and she'd learned long ago to ignore such activities. That didn't mean she didn't listen when they talked. And the men loved to tell stories of Lord Anthony Stark, to share with one another the man's legendary conquests. She knew that Stark took women where he would, with no promise of anything beyond a night or two. He used them for his own purposes. There was a rumor that he'd wanted to marry once, that he'd asked for the hand of a woman who had turned him down. And that it was because of this unnamed woman that he never stayed with one woman for very long.
It was a load of shite. She didn't believe a word of it. She'd met men like Anthony Stark before. They were men who took what they wanted, from whomever they wanted, without care for how it would impact anyone else. Her father was such a man, one who did what was best for him and used those around him to gain those things he desired. That was why she'd taken the ship as soon as she'd learned of her grandfather's wishes. Her father would never have let her have it to begin with. And she knew better than to think that Robert had come to watch over her for the man. Or, rather, not the way Robert would have her believe. He was there to spy on her, plain and simple.
He had been. Until she'd discovered that part of the reason Robert had joined her was because of his feelings for her. Feelings she knew her father was unaware of. That worked in her favor.
It amazed her that Robert was nothing like her father or Lord Stark. At the beginning, when they'd first consummated their relationship, she'd expected him to be a man who used those around him. But he'd proven that his concern was her. And only her. Not that he didn't send missives off to her father when they were docked. But she knew that they were all filled with absolutely nothing her father could use. Nothing he wanted to know.
One of the men roused her from her thoughts, calling something across the deck to another hand. A ribald joke, one not fit for a lady's ears, that brought forth a round of laughter. She let her gaze wander from one deck hand to the next, absently watching them go about their work. A peal of loud, boisterous laughter echoed toward her across the water, coming from the direction of Stark's vessel. Unhooking her glass from the loop that kept it ready at her side, she extended it even as she lifted it to her eye.
The lenses on the inside brought the far deck into crystal clear detail, showing her a group of men who were busy at tasks meant to ready a ship for sailing, much like the men on her own vessel were doing. She caught sight of a few familiar faces, ones she recalled seeing from their time as guests at Thor's hall. A blonde. A brunette. The dark head of Stark. The glass showed her that there was a very unhappy look on his face and the way in which he pointed suggested he was going to take that temper out on his crew.
"He's an arse, Morgan." Dare's voice was practically in her ear as she spoke and Morgan glanced away from the glass for just a moment to take in the other woman's face. It looked as if she'd done very little sleeping the night before. There were dark half-moons smudged under her eyes and a tightness in their corners that suggested she'd been up for hours already. Was it Morgan's imagination or was her skin just a touch paler? "Dinnae pay him ana mind."
"Did you meet `im every time we put into port?" she asked. Dare tugged the glass from her hands and raised it to glance across the water. Only for a moment, The glass was shoved back into her hold right quick and the way Dare's lips twisted suggested that she hadn't liked what she'd seen. The woman turned to stalk away from her, giving her a chance to lift the glass once more. Just for a moment. Stark was watching their ship through his own glass. When he saw her looking, a smile curved up his lips. She lowered the glass and returned it to the place on her belt.
Dare was busy ladling fresh water over her head when Morgan caught up to her. That wasn't something she'd ever seen the other woman do before. But she'd seen the men do it. When they'd been trying to clear their head after a night of drinking. Not that Dare would ever allow something so trivial as drink interfere with her enjoyment of sailing. The woman had claimed loudly that she had salt water flowing in her veins and nothing would ever get between her and her passion for pirating. So if she wasn't coming off a night of drink, there was only one other explanation. She'd gotten sick recently.
She'd seen the men dunk their heads after a particularly bad bout of sea sickness or some other ailment. They claimed it rinsed the sickness away and cleared their head. It wasn't something she'd ever seen Dare do. Not in all the years she'd known her. She considered commenting about it, but changed her mind when she saw the look in the other woman's eyes when she lifted her head. Something was bothering her. "Dare, did you meet `im every time we put into port?"
"Aye." The Scots wench bit the word off savagely, her gaze drifting back toward the other ship. "`Twill nae happen again, Morgan."
Morgan stared at her. Neither of them really believed her. There was a desperation in Dare's eyes that said she'd happily run herself through with her own sword rather than meet with the man again. Morgan wanted to ask Dare if it had been worth it, if selling her soul had been worth the things she'd done. But she refrained, because something told her that doing so would be hazardous to her health. "Where did you spend ze night?" she asked instead.
"In a tree," Dare replied. For a moment, Morgan thought she had to be jesting. But the tilt of the woman's mouth said that she had, in fact, spent the night in a tree.
"Did you get any sleep?" Morgan blinked.
"A wee bit. `Tis nae a comfortable spot," Dare shrugged. Then she offered a grin. "`Tis where I hid when my Da got mad at me."
"And Lord Stark would not look for you in ze trees, would `e?" Morgan asked. Dare only grinned wider and turned to wander toward their cabin. It was likely she was going to go change her clothes. There were bits of bark clinging to the seat of her breeches and the sleeves of her tunic.
Left alone, Morgan turned to ensure that her men were still hard at work preparing the ship to sail. She needn't have worried over much. Supplies were being stowed, ropes made ready, the rigging and sails inspected. She noted that there were other vessels in the harbor besides hers and Stark's that were making ready to sail. There were several other ship that were busy with activity. A few had already put out to sea with the first rays of morning light.
She was in the middle of issuing an order when she spied Rosemary and Jehnna making their way on board. She smiled as they approached. "Good. We are almost all `ere. Now we only need `Aley and we are ready to sail."
Jehnna motioned with one hand toward the corvette across the bay. "No doubt she is still wrapped around the blonde from the island. I saw men from Stark's ship heading into town as we were on our way here. I expect she'll be here soon."
Morgan nodded at that, then made a motion to the deck. "Zere is work to be done, ladies. A few more `ands will make it go faster."
"Where is Dare?" Rosemary asked as she moved to help move a barrel toward the hold.
"Changing `er clothes. She slept in a tree last night." The announcement saw the two women smirking at Morgan a moment. But the smirk died out when the door to the cabin opened and Dare stepped out in fresh breeches and tunic. Her corset was the same one, her feet bare. A feathered hat sat upon her head as she crossed to them. Jehnna and Rosemary stifled a few giggles as she passed.
"When do we sail?" Dare asked, ignoring the other women.
"As soon as `Aley gets `ere." Morgan helped Jehnna push a heavy coil of ropes into place.
"She didn't come with you?" the Scots wench asked Rosemary, who shook her head in the negative. Dare frowned at that, but said nothing more. The four of them lapsed into silence as they took stock of the ship. Not that they needed to. The men knew their jobs. But it was habit and a good one to practice. On the off chance that something was amiss.
She was in the middle of her last sweep when a voice called to her from across the deck. "Permission to come aboard, Captain!" She turned, as did Jehnna, Rosemary and Dare, to see who was asking. The blonde from Stark's crew stood at the edge of the railing, his feet still on the gang plank. Morgan cast a glance from one woman to the next, taking note of the faint looks of concern they wore, then finally looked back to him and nodded her agreement.
"Come aboard, sailor."
The man stepped onto the deck and crossed to them. "We're getting ready to put the sails to the wind. I wanted to bid Haley a safe journey." His eyes skimmed around the deck slowly as he looked for her. When they landed on Morgan again, there was curiosity in them. "Where is she?"
"We zought she was with you," Morgan replied. The man blinked at her.
"I've not seen her since the morning you sailed from Thor's island," he told her.
The words were barely finished when Morgan turned toward the nearest man. "Cam, `ave you seen `Aley at all zis morning?" The man shook his head no before going back to work. When Morgan turned back toward the blonde, there was concern in his eyes. Which was perfectly acceptable, because it matched the concern that had filled her eyes along with those of the women at her side. "Did any of you see `Aley last night?"
"Just when she passed us when leaving the Unicorn," Jehnna replied. Morgan nodded, recalling that Haley had looked slightly upset. "She had just come from the upper levels."
Dare's frown changed with that. "The upper levels, ye say?" she asked. It was Jehnna who nodded this time. "Shite! The bastard! I'm going tae kill him." Without saying another word, the woman turned and stalked off. Morgan decided that she wasn't the one who was going to be on the receiving end of Dare's temper.
There was murder shining in her eyes.
~*~*~*~*~
The touch against her back was so cool. It felt as if her skin was on fire, as if she was caught up in a big blaze with heat and flames licking at her from all sides. But it was strange, because she felt as if she was floating in the fire, as if she was weightless and insubstantial. It wasn't so bad like this. The pain seemed distant, hidden by the heat that raced through her and left her unable to lift a single limb. The touch came again, liquid and select. It dragged over the spot on her back where the pain seemed worst before she felt it against her head. Dampness touched her, soothed the fire just the slightest bit. Left her feeling safe.
Then the shivering started and she was so cold that the hands sliding over her skin were fire hot, burning the flesh from her bones. She thought she heard someone talking, trying to catch her attention. Thought she heard someone whisper her name softly. But the hands on her back were like tongues of flame, pouring molten heat along her nerves until she wanted to scream with the pain of it all. She remembered the screams...
The fire was climbing ever higher, reaching for the sky as the wood piled up under Harper's feet caught and burned. His clothes were blazing, tongues of flame crawling over them gleefully as they reached for his face. His hair. She stood stoically and watched as the fingers of fire crept up over him. He hadn't wanted her to come, had begged her to stay away. Naturally she'd ignored him, just as she'd always ignored him when he thought she shouldn't do something. She had to see this. Had to remember it. Had to be sure Harper knew that she was there for him.
People cheered and booed and hissed. They called him names. Some actually threw things at him, pelted him with pieces of rotten food. Threw rocks. He stayed silent, his gaze cast above their heads. No doubt he was staring off into the distance at nothing. Doing his best to show his sister that he was strong enough for this. One of the stones hit his temple and blood welled up in its wake. A thin trickle of red ran down the side of Harper's face, but he didn't acknowledge it. He just stood there and waited. And the flames climbed higher...
The heat felt like a distant thing, something that didn't quite belong to her. Perhaps that was because the chill that ran along her skin kept the heat at bay. She could hear sobbing in the distance, hoarse cries of pain that didn't make any sense. And she could hear a faint voice talking to her, telling her that it would be alright. That she'd be alright. It sounded familiar. She thought she should know it, but her head was too stuffed with cotton to really care. And she was floating, everything slipping away from her before it could become real and sharp. It was as if she was drifting on the tide, waves of nothing pulling anything around her out to sea.
She peered through the bushes, watching as Harper and Jonathan laughed and splashed water on one another. Of course they didn't know she was there. If they did, neither of them would have stripped down to nothing to play in the water lapping at the edge of the lake. Seeing Harper unclothed was no big deal. Her brother had a favored maid on staff and there had been more than one occasion that she'd caught the two of them in the middle of their midnight games. No. The reason she was here was because of Jonathan. She'd wanted to see him like this.
She'd been in love with him ever since she'd been a small girl, had secretly idolized her brother's closest friend. She'd watched him grow from a lanky youth into a handsome, well shaped young man. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, but seeing him did strange things to her body. She'd felt such strange urges that she'd done things...
"Are you ever going to stop tumbling the maid and get serious about a woman, Harper?" Jonathan asked with a laugh in his voice. His blonde hair glistened with droplets of water that clung to the pale strands, more dewy drops clinging to his shoulders and back, to his arse and... She sucked a breath when he turned so she could see his front. Mother of God, he was beautiful...
The urge to tug her stolen breeches down was almost more than she could handle. She needed to feel something. She closed her eyes, shuddering with the rush of desire that coursed through her.
"Relax, my love. I won't hurt you. I promise." Jonathan's voice was soft in her ear, his breath hot against her bared flesh. But hot as his breath was, his touch was hotter. It sent tiny bolts of lightning flashing under her skin. Her nipples puckered and she shifted her thighs unconsciously. When the palms of his hands skimmed over the curves of her breasts, she moaned softly and the sound painted the room with her need.
The bare skin of his chest pressed to her back as he closed the distance between them. Her breath hitched in her throat when his fingers slid between her thighs, when he rumbled his appreciation in her ear because his fingers found her wetness. When he slid them inside of her, she closed her eyes and relaxed into him...
"Damn it, Harper. Haven't I told you that girl isn't for you?" Jonathan's voice was filled with anger and something else. She wasn't sure what it was, but it seemed as if her brother thought he knew.
"Jealous, old man?" There was a laugh in Harper's words as he said them. Jonathan shook his head and dragged a hand through his hair. "Theresa is a beautiful woman."
"I have no interest in Miss Cassidy and you bloody well know it," Jonathan announced. Harper turned and gave him a look that spoke volumes. Unfortunately, she didn't know what her brother was saying to the other man. "I just don't trust her, Harper. She was seen last night with one James Madrox and they were much too close to one another to simply be acquaintances."
"You worry for nothing, Jonathan. Theresa loves me. Don't worry so much, old man. You'll see. Just trust me."
"I trust you perfectly well, Harper. You've been my best friend practically since birth. Its that woman I don't trust." Jonathan practically stormed from the room then and she hurried to catch him. She wanted to know why he didn't trust Harper's betrothed. But he was faster than she was. By the time she'd found her way to the stables, he'd already mounted his stallion and galloped away.
She had to know, so she screamed to be heard over the sounds of his horse's shoes on the cobble stones. "Jonathan!"
"Shhh, Haley. I'm here." A man's voice. It sounded in her ear, soothing and gentle. She knew she should know that voice, but she couldn't name it. Couldn't think past the pain that saw every muscle in her body seizing.
The room was stifling hot. She could feel the heat pressing in around her. But she felt so damned cold. And she was so tired. It seemed like she couldn't sleep enough. One eye managed to pop open. The room was in shadows, everything blurred. But she saw a table near her head, saw a tin mug that meant there was something to drink. As if only just realizing it, her throat was parched and her tongue so thick that it felt as if it didn't really fit into her mouth. She tried for the mug with one hand, but didn't have the strength to even lift her arm.
A pair of hands were suddenly there, one lifting the mug while the other lifted her head. She barely managed to swallow once before she realized that she couldn't do it again. Not that it mattered. She was laying down again, hands soothing through her hair and down her back in careful strokes that pulled her back toward the yawning abyss of darkness. Some part of her didn't want to go. But the shadows were stronger than she was and so she felt herself sliding back into nothingness.
His hands stroked softly down her back, fingers trailing along her spine before splitting and moving down over the curves of her arse. His mouth followed the path his hands had set, the ends of his hair ticking across her flesh to leave goose bumps in their wake. She sighed softly and settled her cheek against her folded arms. When he reached the small of her back, he started making his way back up. She stared at the gold band that circled her finger, a symbol of his love. It wasn't much, a mere token, he'd told her when he'd slipped it onto her finger, but it meant the world to her.
The sheets, plain cotton that was a little coarse against her skin, shifted as he moved lower. His hands traced the backs of her thighs while his mouth left tiny kisses and little nips against the twin globes of her backside. His hands were sure and his mouth teased as he touched every inch of her flesh. It didn't seem possible that they'd stood before the priest at the village church only a few scant hours ago. It didn't seem possible that she could be so happy. Not after everything that had happened.
"Never have I seen a woman formed by such comely long limbs. And when the sun touches your hair, `tis as if the goddess Brigid has come to earth," he whispered softly in her ear. She was vaguely aware of his flesh pressed against her bum as he fit his hips between her thighs. "Never before have I seen such beauty, beloved wife."
"The things you say," she replied. The heat in her cheeks told her they were flaming in embarrassment. "Such sweet words. I certainly don't deserve them."
"But you do, love," he replied, his hands stroking down her sides until he could curl them around her hips. She let him position her, let him shift her so that the head of his cock pressed up against her very center. "I knew the moment I saw you that you were the woman for me. I knew then that I would love no other. You bespelled me with your beauty."
"I believe I can find a better use for your tongue than..." Her words died on a soft gasp as he fed himself inside of her. When he was fully sheathed, when he could fill her no more, he leaned down to press a kiss against her shoulder.
"`Tis you I love, Haley. You and only you. For the rest of my life," he promised, then pulled back...
The blue of his eyes was almost hypnotic as he poised over her, as he waited for her to beg him. Such was the way with them. Almost from the start, he would tease her with hands and fingers and mouth and tongue until she begged him to take her. Until she was mindless with need for him.
But there would be no begging this night. No demanding and pleading. No hard and fast coupling. Tonight, she wanted long and slow and tender. Tonight, she wanted their joining to be celebratory. She slid a hand between them and let her fingers curl around him. A smile spread across her face when his eyes fluttered closed and a groan rolled up his throat. She gave him a gentle squeeze before stroking her hand down his length. "Tonight, my love, I ask that you take your time and pleasure me properly."
"Don't I always? By God, Haley. Unhand me or I won't be able to please you at all." His voice was filled with a hint of anguish. She smiled up at him, then made another stroke, squeezed him again and let him go.
"But you must take extra care tonight, love. I would not risk the safety of our child to your vigorous nature." He'd been about to plunge into her, but her words halted him with only the very head of his shaft buried inside of her. The look in his eyes was one of disbelief and amazement.
"A child? Are you certain? There's a child?" he asked, drawing back so that he could kneel between her splayed legs. She smiled and propped herself up on her elbows, thrusting her breasts toward him.
"I came from the midwife only this afternoon. She's assured me that there's a child." He stared at her for a few moments longer before his hands crept up to cover her belly. The smile he wore was so large, his joy at the news more than obvious. "She says my constantly being tired is a sign. And she said that I should soon start thickening `round the middle. Will you still love me when I grow fat with child?"
"You will be the most beautiful woman in the world when your belly grows large with our child. And I will love you more then than I do now," he swore, the promise in his words and on his face and in his eyes. She smiled softly at him, pulling him down to her so that she could kiss him senseless. He settled over her, his hands shifting her legs into position even as he feasted upon her lips. She felt him pressing into her slowly. "I love you with all my heart, Haley."
"And I love you, Clinton," she whispered, her voice a long sigh of contentment.
"Haley? You have to drink, love. The fever is taking all of your strength. If you don't drink the broth, you'll not be able to fight the poison," he told her as he slowly worked her up into a sitting position. She felt weak as a newborn kitten, his body cradling hers as he positioned her so that he could slowly pour the broth into her mouth. She swallowed, but only because not doing so would mean she'd drown.
She didn't want to think about anything, didn't want to move. All she wanted to do was lay in the darkness and float. The floating feeling was still there, through not as strong as earlier. And the pain was more intense than before, leaving her wishing for the nothingness of sleep. His voice anchored her to the here and now, a familiar chord that she knew she should know. Something about it was so damned familiar. But she couldn't place it. Not through the haze of pain and the lingering wisps of images that tumbled through her head even as she held on to consciousness.
The broth was soon gone, but something foul slid down her throat after it. She didn't have a chance to spit it out because a hand stroked her neck in order to ensure she swallowed. Then she was slowly, carefully, laid back down on a thick mattress. Pain jolted through her, leaving her gasping for breath as the shadows around her became momentarily darker. Then the dizziness came, so that she felt like she was rocking back and forth. She rode up one wave and then down into the next. Rode the pain. Rode the swelling dizziness. Rode the waves...
The ship! She had to get back! Morgan would be ready to sail and they wouldn't leave without her? Would they? She struggled to move, rolling in an attempt to climb from the bed. Hands were there, urging her down to the mattress again. She fought it, struggled with what little strength she had to get away. "The ship. Have to get back to the ship," she muttered.
"Haley! Stop this! You're much too ill to go anywhere." The voice was in her ear, arms around her as they tried to still her motions. She had a glimpse of blue eyes staring out of a tired face, unkempt blonde hair. A familiar twist of remembered lips. Shirtless and tanned. Strong. "You need to rest, Haley."
She knew that face, had dreamt of it so much but... It couldn't be. Surprise allowed him to press her back into the sheets and it was only when she was still that she saw the smears of blood against his skin. Felt the pain lance her side. Saw the shadows swallow her down. The fire of pain followed her into unconsciousness.
His clothes were on fire, smoke curling up off his breeches and tunic. Both were torn and dirty. Both were the garments of a common man. They'd taken his fine clothes from him when they'd imprisoned him and left him with the garb of a criminal. But they couldn't take the pride from his face. Couldn't take the stubborn angle of his jaw and the knowing look in his eyes. Bastards. They'd even shorn his rich red locks down almost to the scalp. There were some tufts that were longer than others, as if the barber that had cut his hair had been drunk when he'd done it.
Even like that, even wearing cheap clothes and without his hair, Harper was every inch the man that none of the noble class would ever be. Someone threw a glob that she thought was mud. But then the stench of it reached her nose and she wanted to cry. Dung. They were throwing clumps of animal dung at him. Harper never moved, never said anything. Never even batted an eyelash. Just took everything like a man.
The people in the crowd were no better than animals.
The room was dark, only a single candle burning in the corner. He was sleeping in the chair, head at an uncomfortable angle while his arms lay limply in his lap. She could see his chest rising and falling slowly in his sleep. A name was on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't dare utter it for fear this was all a dream. Just like everything had been a dream lately. If it was a dream, she didn't want it to simply disappear. She didn't think she could handle it if he was just suddenly gone.
She vaguely wondered where she was and how long she'd been there. The scratch of the cloth against her skin told her that she was naked under the coverings and that should be worrisome. But she couldn't bring herself to care. She was in one of the floating stages, where everything seemed to be distant and unreal. The pain was far away for a time and she thought she could get used to that. She tried to remember what had happened, but things were so fuzzy. There'd been darkness, hadn't there? And a flash of silver? Maybe...
Given that she was on her stomach, she was sure that the pain came from her back. Shifting her arms confirmed that as agony speared down one side of her body. With it came the unsettling feeling of fire racing under her skin, prompting her to close her eyes and swallow hard.
How long had she been here? Had the crew sailed without her? She wished she could force herself to get up and seek the ship out. She thought she could hear the sounds of the harbor through the windows. Gulls calling and wood creaking as ships rocked on the tide. Men laughing, their voices rising as they spoke to one another. What she wouldn't give to feel the deck beneath her feet again. She swore, even as she laid there, that she could feel the world rocking and rolling with the shift of the ocean. Suddenly, before she even realized it was happening, she was sliding head first back into the darkness and everything simply became unreal.
"He looks so much like you," she whispered, watching the tiny boy as he grasped at his father's breeches and pulled himself up on unsteady, chubby little legs. Golden curls gleamed in the light pouring in through the windows, only a shade darker than those that crowned his sire's head. His smile and his baby laughter were infectious, seeing both of his parents laughing in the face of his gleeful discovery.
The tot took one trembling step, then a second and a third, before plopping down onto the floor on his tiny bottom. The boy's face wrinkled for a moment, but before he could wail out his displeasure, he was scooped up by his father's capable hands and held close to a broad chest. "That's my lad. Come the morrow, you'll be running as swiftly as the forest beasts."
She watched them closely, a warm smile upon her face. They were so much alike, almost two peas in a pod. Father and son shared the same laughing blue eyes and the same devilish smile that had long ago melted her heart. Even his curls defied her attempts to tame them. That was one of those things she'd always loved about her husband. Every time she looked at him, she saw him on the deck of a ship with the wind tossing his hair around his face restlessly. It reminded her of her life before all of this joy.
He turned to her and settled the lad in her lap, though there was little room available for the tot. As he did so, he leaned down and laid a hand against the growing swell of her belly. His mouth found hers, as unerring as the arrows he fired when hunting for food. When his head lifted away, she could see the joy and happiness in his eyes. "Soon enough, he'll have a brother or sister to play with. One that will bear a striking resemblance to his or her mother."
"Were I not heavy with child, you would be doing something much more enjoyable with that mouth than offering up a few pretty words."
"I believe I can manage that when our son goes down for a nap," he promised, his eyes filled with wickedness...
Laughter rang through the trees, some high and childish and some deep and masculine. She watched from her blanket as her three sons pulled their father down into the long grass, their hands moving rapidly as they tried to tickle him. Their daughter was watching with big blue eyes, the rag doll she'd gotten as a gift for her birthday held tightly in her hands. It was obvious she wanted to play with her brothers and her father, but she'd been told by her siblings that she wasn't tough enough to play with them. Because she was a girl.
Haley considered it a moment, then called the girl over and pulled her into her lap. "Don't look so sad, poppet. Your brothers have no idea how tough a woman can be," she told the girl, stroking fingers through the curly golden locks. Sad but curious blue eyes were turned her way. She definitely had the girl's interest. "I used to know five women who sailed the seas as pirates."
Eyes as big as sauces regarded her. "John said that girls can't be pirates. He said that pirating is a man's job."
"Your brother John might be the oldest of you four, but he doesn't know as much as he thinks he does." Haley said, letting her gaze slide over to the eldest boy, who was busy trying to wrestle his father into submission. She smiled and shook her head. "I knew these ladies well and I assure you, my dove, that they were the most dangerous and feared pirates in all the land. None dared tangle with them because they weren't known for mercy. They were all quick with their swords and there was no man who could best them."
The girl frowned and regarded her brothers again. Then her eyes found her father and she frowned harder. "Not even Papa?"
The smile that slipped across Haley's face was full of memory. It was at that moment that Clinton looked up at her. Their eyes met and she saw the love he had for her blossom in his gaze, saw it give a sensual twist to his lips. It was full of promise. And it brought back a lifetime of memories that she cherished. "Not even Papa, my dove. Now why don't you go over there and show your brothers just who they're trifling with?"
She sent the girl off with a kiss to the cheek and a pat to the backside, watching as she threw herself into the brawl that seemed to be happening over Clinton. He grinned and reached for the girl, his fingers moving to all of her ticklish spots. Girlish laughter filled the air with her brothers. This was a sight she'd never grow tired of. Haley pictured a small babe along side the other four and couldn't stop her hand from settling over her belly.
She'd been planning to tell him today, while the family was relaxing. But it could wait until tonight. After the children had all been put to bed...
The sounds of the ocean reached her ears, though she didn't think they were that close. It felt as if she was rocking again, as if the ship was riding the waves while she slept. Even a cool, salty breeze slid over her skin. With a soft sigh, she snuggled deeper into the warm bedding and let sleep pull her back under again.
"Damn it, Jonathan! We can't bring her in here! This isn't an appropriate establishment for her," Harper hissed at the man who was presently ensuring that she looked very much like a young man. The stocking he'd given her for her trousers was uncomfortable and kept shifting from one side to the other. She suspected that real men didn't have this problem.
"Relax, Harper. She'll be with me the whole time." Jonathan didn't bother looking at her brother. He just tugged the cap he'd given her farther down on her head and made sure that it obscured half of her face.
"That is exactly what I'm afraid of," Harper grumbled. "If Father was to find out about this..."
"Relax, Harper. Your father won't hear a word of it." Jonathan stepped back so that Harper could see her. She watched her brother's eyes go wide in surprise and took it as a good sign. After one last adjustment to the coat he'd loaned her, Jonathan grinned and gave a flourish of one hand. "Allow me to introduce you to my poor country cousin, Roderick."
"I say, Jonathan. That isn't half bad. If I didn't know it was Haley, I would be hard pressed to believe that she was a girl." Harper remained silent for a few moments, then inclined his head and nodded. "Very well. So long as she stays with you and so long as she keeps her clothes on. If I hear a word about Roderick losing his trousers, there will be hell to pay."
"Roderick will keep all of his clothes on. And won't dare utter a word because he's so shy and retiring." Jonathan shot Haley a smirk, one that told her he'd known it would work. She nodded her head in reply. Harper sighed and tossed his hands up in the air.
"God save me from nosy little sisters," he said, but she could hear that he didn't really mean it...
"You look ravishing tonight, Miss Stone," Jonathan's voice was crisp and elegant. Of course, it matched the garb he'd put on for the party. She flashed him a smile and dipped into a curtsey. "Would I be presuming too much if I asked you to walk in the gardens with me?"
He held his arm out for her, waiting for her to take it or not. Haley glanced at her father and saw the kindly smile on his face, his signal that he had no problems with it. She turned a brilliant smile on Jonathan and slid her arm into his. "I would be honored."
He dipped into half a bow before straightening and escorting her through the throng of people toward the opened French doors. Outside, the air was crisp and cool, a hint of rain scenting it. There were a few couples strolling in the garden, but most paid them no mind. He simply led her further into the darkness, finally stopping at an alcove created by climbing vines that had grown up around some kind of arch. There was a bench that he helped her down onto, then took his place beside her. "Your father informed me that you agreed to become my wife. You can't know how thrilled I am to hear it, Haley."
"No more so than I am to have been asked," she replied softly.
"We'll have a good life together, Haley. I know it." He closed the distance between them and brushed a kiss across her lips. She was breathing hard when he pulled back, even though he'd barely touched his mouth to hers. "I love you, Haley Stone. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life making you happy."
And then he crushed her against him, his lips hot and commanding on her own. Haley melted into him. She really liked the sound of that.
The room was hot again, which didn't make sense. She felt cold, frozen. As if something horrible was going to happen. And she couldn't seem to wake herself up, couldn't seem to pull herself from the haze that clung to her. She struggled against it, but hands held her down while someone else tried to pour something vile and disgusting down her throat.
It burned as she swallowed, nearly choking her, and left her sputtering as hands were just suddenly stroking her head and whispering calming words in her ear. Once again, she felt herself float away just a moment before she fell down the rabbit hole.
The flames were so high now, she could barely see his face. Only flashes of skin, flashes of burning hair and cloth, flashes of black, cracked flesh that had been seared by the fire. And he was screaming. Oh, God, he was screaming.
She shouldn't have been able to hear it over the crackle of the fire and the roar of the crowd. But she could. He'd been stoic up until only a few moments ago. But now that flames were crawling up every inch of his body, he could do nothing but vent the pain that ate at him. She watched it all, determined to remember this day. To remember his death, senseless and stupid as it was. She was determined. But that didn't mean that she could remain stoic.
Tears slid down her cheeks, her nose so plugged that she had to breathe through her mouth. God, the flames...
She wanted to change to her other form then, wanted to leap through the fire and save him. But it was too late. And she was afraid. So she simply stood there and watched. Watched as perfect strangers called him witch and demon and any number of things that were untrue. Watched as the flames climbed higher and higher. Watched as, occasionally, the tongues of fire split apart to show her a green gaze holding hers from a face that was black and falling away. Watched as he died in slow agony.
Listened as he screamed and screamed.
"Harper!"
"Shhh, Haley. Its okay, love. `Twas naught but a bad dream. You're safe, my love. You're safe. Shhh." A pair of strong arms held her close to a muscled chest. Well remembered hands stroked down her spine soothingly. Her heart pounded against her rib cage and she couldn't seem to stop shaking. She felt so damned cold. So numb.
But the warmth of the body holding hers was slowly seeping into her body, warming her by slow degrees, until she could finally pull away to stare up into the face that had so recently haunted her dreams.
He hadn't changed since she'd last seen him. Except for the dark circled under his eyes and the growth of stubble on his chin. A mouth that used to laugh almost constantly was harder than she remembered. But the eyes were the same, a merry blue whose vibrancy had never faded once in her memories. "Jonathan?" she asked, afraid she was still dreaming.
"Aye, Haley. `Tis me." He said it so matter of factly. As if they saw one another every day. And then his mouth took hers, hot and hungry, and he kissed the breath right out of her lungs.
~*~*~*~*~
"You cannot go in there, miss! My lord isn't receiving any visitors!" someone told her as she barreled her way toward the cabin door. She didn't bother to stop and didn't notice when a hand fell on her shoulder. At least, not until it swung her around and halted her in her tracks. Dare was blind to everything but the fact that the miserable bastard was hiding in his cabin. And she couldn't get to him if his crew insisted on stopping her. Hand formed into a fist, she spun and swung. Her knuckles connected with a hard jaw and sent the man reeling. She vaguely recognized him from their time on Thor's island as Anthony's second, then she stomped across the deck and shoved the door open without bothering to knock.
Stark was sitting in a chair, staring at a few pages of parchment laid out before him. When he didn't look up at her, she snarled out a curse and burned the pages to ash in the blink of an eye. "Oh, I'm sorry, Alasdare. Did you wish to speak to me? I thought we were ignoring one another now."
"Hauld yer whist," she snarled at him. "I'm no' going tae play games wi' ye today. Where's Haley?"
He looked at her as if he had no idea what she was talking about. The sounds of someone approaching the cabin brought forth another snarl, then a gesture of her hand saw the door slamming shut by itself. She advanced on him and slammed her hands done on the table before him. "Tell me where Haley is or I'll cut yer heart out o' yer chest."
"Really, Alasdare. Your accent is getting worse. I believe you are overdue some lessons," he began, but she shut him up when she pulled her blade from its sheath. Fire ran up the length of the weapon as it inched close to him.
"`Tisnae the day tae play wi' me, Stark. Either tell me where Haley is or I'll see ye dead." The door rattled on its hinges, but didn't open. She still had time. Almost idly, she let the tip of her blade touch his finely wrought tunic. The sizzle of the thread being eaten away by her flames brought a smile to her face that, based on the look he shot her, belonged on the lips of a madman.
A second later, he was on his feet and she was diving for cover as the table flipped toward her. Her sword went spinning in one direction as she went in the other. Before she could recover herself, he was sitting on her, his hands and legs pinning her to the ground. "I've no idea what you're talking about, Alasdare, but I would advise you remember just who I am to you. Don't make me return you to the Tower. You won't enjoy your stay, short as it will be."
"Ye can go tae Hell!" she spat a second before her forehead made contact with his face. He hissed out a painful curse and fell back, hands pressed to his brow. She scrambled away from him and rose to her feet. The lost sword returned to her hand. Slowly, with a great deal of care, Stark rose and stared at her. "Where is she? Tell me now. Tell me or I'll burn this whole bloody ship to naught more than ash."
The fire formed around her hand, jumped and flickered as it strained to be set free. Stark watched it, a sort of morbid fascination on his face. She gave that madman's smile again and lifted her hand, ready to set the fire free. But the door crashed open and men spilled into the cabin. "Dare! No. I swear to you, he had nothing to do with her disappearance."
The next thing she knew, Barton had her pinned to the wall and the other blonde, the one she'd hit earlier, was between her and her target. The sword in his hand said he wouldn't let her past him again. "He bloody well kens! He sent her tae the red headed bitch! He sent her because he kens what she is. Where is she, Stark? Where? Tell me or I'll kill ye!"
"Clinton, what the hell is she babbling about?" Stark asked, apparently back under control. Dare struggled against Barton's hold, but he had her well and truly pinned.
"Her shipmate has gone missing."
"Aye! And the last anaone saw her, she'd just come from speaking to ye! Where is she?" Dare snarled, still trying to pull free of the man holding her. Despite being pressed against the wall as she was, she could see Anthony's face when he digested that bit of news.
"I swear to you on my life, Alasdare, that no mischief befell her by my hand. I would never hurt your friends," Stark told her, sounding sincere. He turned to the other man, seemingly dismissing her, and began barking out orders. "Steven, form a search party and assist Alasdare in locating her missing crewmate. Clinton, let her go. You're lucky she's not tried to kick you yet."
Barton released her and stepped back. Dare shot him a scowl. "We'll find her, Dare. I promise you," Barton told her softly. She snorted, looking from one face to the next. Then she snarled a curse and fled through the door. Bugger his help.
She'd find Haley herself...
~*~*~*~*~
She watched him move unabashedly, her eyes feasting on his form as he went about making a meal for her. Something stronger and more nourishing than broth if the heavenly smells coming her way were any indication. Slowly, with great care, Haley pulled herself up into a sitting position. The blanket was coarse against her skin and she was still weak, but it felt good to be up. And the wound to her shoulder didn't pain her as much as it had only a few days ago. It pulled, but it didn't ache.
Jonathan stood over the fire with little more than a pair of breeches on, the material clinging to the curves of his arse and thighs like the hand of a lover. Something deep inside of her woke and filled her with hunger. By God, he was still as handsome as ever. The candle light glowed golden across his skin, picking out a few small scars here and there that hadn't marred his skin when last she'd seen him without his shirt. She ached with the need to run her hands over his skin and relearn every single inch of him.
It had been a shock for her to wake and find him there. She thought she'd dreamt him, all of him. That he'd been a product of her fever. But he'd been so solid and strong against her. So real. Despite the fact that he looked as if he needed a week's uninterrupted sleep. For the first hour or so, he'd done nothing but hold her, his hands stroking her skin as he'd pressed her tight against him. After that, he'd spilled the story of how he'd been waiting for her to show up in Kennewycke again, that he'd been following her all these years, and he'd just happened to see her slip into the alley with two men trailing her. There'd been a short fight that had seen both men dead. And her poisoned. So he'd spent nigh unto a sennight nursing her back to health.
And after his story, he'd simply held her some more.
She was still thinking idly about the past few days when he turned, a bowl in one hand and a tankard in the other. He offered her a smile as he carried her meal over to the bed. She made sure to keep the blankets wrapped tightly around her and shifted on the bed so that there was room for him to sit beside her.
After settling the tankard on a table beside the bed, he pushed the bowl into her hands. It held a rich looking stew that smelled heavenly. A trip back to the fire resulted in a spoon and a chunk of fresh bread that she eagerly dipped into the thick broth. The gravy exploded across her taste buds like a slice of the most decadent sweet or the finest mead. Despite the fact that her stomach rumbled with pleasure and the desire for more, she forced herself to eat slow. To savor every last bite.
Jonathan settled on the bed beside her and watched as she ate. She'd polished off the chunk of bread before she realized that he wasn't eating. Frowning, she turned to look at him. "Why didn't you fill a bowl for yourself? You look as if you haven't eaten since the fight in the alley."
"I'd like to simply sit here and watch you eat. Seeing you enjoy your meal will give me pleasure. I'll have mine when you've finished," he promised her. She stared at him for a while, then shrugged and ladled up a spoonful of stew with the spoon he'd provided her. The meat was tender and flavorful, while the vegetables were crisp and fresh. She stared at him in surprise. "You shouldn't look quite so amazed. Susan made sure I was well able to care for myself. She always thought that no one else would want to." There was a hint of dark humor to his words. It mingled with a sense of hollowness that she knew well.
"You miss your sister, don't you? When was the last time you saw her?" she asked, spooning up more of the stew.
"The day after you left me," he told her, his voice lacking any discernable emotion. She frowned and tried not to look his way. While there was no accusation in his tone, it was still there all the same. And she just couldn't explain to him why she'd run the way she had. She hadn't wanted to see the revulsion and horror on his face then and she still didn't now. "Haley..."
"I don't want to talk about it, Jonathan. I can't." Her tone was firm and she saw, from the corner of her eye, what her words had done. He was upset with her evasive tactic and he didn't really want to let her get away with not talking about it. But he didn't press her further. Instead, he fell silent and watched as she slowly worked her way through the bowl of stew. When the bowl was empty, he took it from her and carried it across the room. It was left on a table near the hearth. Then Jonathan was returning to her side, a determined look on his face.
"There are some things we should talk about, Haley," he told her, once more settling at her side. She stared at him for a few moments before giving a weary nod. She didn't know if she was up to a serious talk. But it seemed he was determined to have one anyway. Their eyes met and held, the silence stretching long and thin between them. Then he scooped up one hand and brought it to his lips. The brush of them against her skin sent shudders rolling down her spine and memory blossomed like a flower under the sun. "By God, I've missed you."
That hadn't been what she'd expected and his admission caught her off guard. Jonathan smiled at her and turned her hand palm up so that he could press a second kiss to the center of her hand. Then his wicked, wicked tongue traced patterns against her flesh. She shuddered again, her eyes slipping closed. "Jonathan..." she groaned. "Jon, please!"
"I would love nothing more, Haley. But I don't think you're up to that just yet. You're still weak from fever," he told her, his mouth curling up into a wicked smile. His kisses started working their way up her arm. "But I do love hearing you call my name like that. Do it again." The last was whispered against her ear.
She couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do much of anything but turn toward him and let his mouth take hers. For a moment, the space of her heart beating, she saw another face in her mind, his eyes as bright as his smile. And then he was gone as Jonathan's heat consumed her.
She didn't remember him being that hot. But she could remember being chilled, being plagued with chills as the fever raged in her body. Maybe that was why he suddenly seemed to be burning hot against her skin. Not that it mattered. He inched her back against the bed, his hands carefully tugging the covers away from her. They were shoved toward the end of the bed, twisted and forgotten, as Jonathan's body covered hers and his mouth began feasting on hers hungrily.
Part of her said she shouldn't be doing this, but she didn't care. She ignored the voice that kept telling her it was wrong. His body was perfect, all hard muscles under silken skin, that seemed to have been made just for her. Her hands explored his back and the curve of his arse under the soft material of his breeches. She tasted his skin with kisses that turned to quiet gasps as his hands and mouth moved over her skin.
The grate of his stubble against her flesh sparked tiny wild fires of longing that raced along her nerves until she was literally burning with need for him. He'd apparently forgotten his words of only moments ago, because his head dipped lower and lower, until it was centered between her thighs. His tongue traced a path of fire along the swollen flesh he'd found there, drawing a long moan of sound from her throat. "I thought you said that we shouldn't, Jon," she whispered, her hands burying themselves in his hair. His head lifted and his eyes were dark with desire.
"I find I've changed my mind, Haley. I've missed you so. I want to get to know every inch of you all over again," he replied, then dropped his lips to her belly button. She hissed with pleasure even while her hands fisted in his hair and tugged in an effort to bring him back up over her.
He ignored her, his mouth drifting lower so that he could kiss her there. The lingering weakness was gone, replaced with deep hunger and need. Those things saw her spreading her thighs a little wider for him. His hands stroked the soft length of her thighs while his mouth ate at her and his tongue dipped into her. She felt the building pressure brought to life by his tongue, felt it grow and expand until her spine bowed and she cried out his name and the pleasure crashed over her like the waves of the ocean beating down upon a ship.
Even before her sounds of pleasure had faded away, he'd rid himself of his breeches and had climbed up over her so that his hips were cradled between her thighs. His mouth found her breasts, teased at her nipples until they were hard and ached for more. Then he moved to her lips, kissed at them and tasted them until she opened to him and he thrust himself inside.
Jonathan swallowed down her groan as his body filled hers completely. Her head spun as he drew back and thrust forward, again and again and again. He whispered in her ear, words that told her how beautiful she was, how much he'd missed her, how badly he needed her. She gasped and held him close. Her fingers curled into his back while her legs wrapped around his waist. The pleasure was even more intense than she remembered, more than she'd been prepared for, and that saw her shattering again almost immediately. But she clung to him and moved with him until he found his completion.
Jonathan collapsed on her, his chest heaving as he tried to drag enough air into her lungs. She held him to her, body incapable of anything else. Even as they lay there, caught up in the afterglow of their coupling, Jonathan's mouth moved against her neck and shoulder, leaving kisses and nips behind. And then his teeth latched on to her flesh, biting down until she cried out again. She didn't know if it was pleasure or pain or both. But her neck throbbed when he pulled away and she felt a curious rush of desire. "Mine," Jonathan growled, eyes locked to where he'd bitten her. "That mark claims you as mine. No one else will have you."
"Jonathan..." she began, but he reared back so she could see his face. There was determination there. One hand reached out and pressed to her lips, bringing her to silence before she could tell him that she had to go.
"Stay with me, Haley. Come with me. Let's leave this place and start the life we were meant to have. Let's get married and have a family."
"I can't, Jonathan. I have to stay with my friends. They need me. I can't leave them now," she told him. And she couldn't. Not after the stories Dare had told them. Someone was hunting Witchbreed and had been using them to do so. Now was not the time to disappear. They needed to find a way to end this before it spiraled out of control.
"Pirates? You call them friends?" He sounded surprised by her admission.
"Yes, Jonathan. They're my friends. And they are pirates. I'm a pirate. Its the way I've chosen to live my life," Haley explained. "I won't abandon them."
"But you'll abandon me?" He sounded as if he couldn't believe she'd make such a choice.
"There are reasons. I can't get into them. But trust me. I have to do this." She struggled to sit up, prompting him to offer her a hand. She took it and let him pull her into a sitting position. Haley reached up and ran a hand over his cheek. "I don't want to leave you, Jonathan. I swear it. But I can't simply leave them. They need me."
He only stared for a few moments. Then he nodded and gave her a smile. "If you have some duty to these women that you must do, I'll help you with it."
"Jonathan? What are you saying?"
"I'll come with you. If you think that your friends will have me, that is," he amended. She stared at him, shocked beyond belief. She didn't know what she should say to that. Not that it mattered because, at that moment, the door came crashing off its hinges as a booted foot made contact with it. Haley reached for the covers, dragging them up over her nakedness even as Jonathan faced the door without a stitch of clothing on.
"What the bloody hell?" Dare's voice was low and lethal as she stepped through the destroyed door. Jehnna and Rosemary followed, with Morgan the last one to step inside. Jehnna and Rosemary held their swords. Morgan held a pistol. Dare was empty handed, which was more worrisome than if she'd held a weapon.
Dare's eyes went from Haley, hiding behind the coarse blanket, to Jonathan, who was unashamed in his nudity. The Scots wench's eyes narrowed on the scene and Haley saw her hair start to float around her head. She put a hand out toward her shipmate in hopes that it would stop the woman. "Dare, don't!"
Her words went unheeded.
Dare's black hair circled her head like the halo of a demonic angel and the woman's hands were suddenly engulfed in flames. Her fingers stretched apart as she held them at her sides. And balls of fire started to grow in her palms. Someone was screaming at Dare, but Haley couldn't hear it over the blood rushing in her ears. She only had a second to do this, only had...
The thought shattered as twin fireballs shot across the room to slam dead center into Jonathan's chest. Haley's eyes squeezed shut and she waited for the screaming, waited for the stench of burnt and cooking flesh. Waited for Jonathan to die just like Harper had.
None of it came. In fact, the chaos of the room fell to stunned silence, prompting Haley to open her eyes and look around.
Rosemary, Morgan, and Jehnna all stared with wide eyes. Dare looked shocked and angry, her hands still flickering with fire. And Jonathan... Haley's eyes went wide as she tried to come to grips with what she was seeing. Jonathan's torso was covered in flames, but the rest of him remained untouched. As if his body had simply sucked in the fireballs Dare had thrown at him. He looked at her and she could see something in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Haley. I wanted to tell you, I just didn't know how. I wasn't sure how you'd take it. I wanted to be sure..."
Whatever he wanted to be sure about was lost as the strangeness of the situation impressed itself upon her and unconsciousness rose up to claim her once again.
Chapter Fourteen: Missing
Fandom: something like the Marvel Universe
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: lots of sex and violence, language, anything else i can toss in. flagrant abuse of a Scots accent and loads of pirates. much badly mangled pirate speech
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of Marvel. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. the Sues are the sole property of their originators, Ginevra, Dazzledfirestar, Nanaea, SilverFoxChan and ladydeathfaerie. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar.
The Flight of the Valkyrie - The Index
Morgan strode onto the deck and looked around. As expected, the crew was moving with vigor, preparing the sloop to set sail. The tide would be going out soon and she wanted to be out to sea before that happened. Especially since a glance across the bay showed her that the red and gold corvette belonging to Lord Anthony Stark idly riding the faint waves that rolled in toward the shore. The petite Frenchwoman didn't like the fact that the man was here in Kennewycke and now, thinking on it, she could recall seeing it plenty of other times when the crew of The Valkyrie had been ashore.
Her mind turned back to the confession Dare had made shortly after they'd left the safety of Thor's island. For as long as Dare had been part of her crew, they'd made regular stops in the quaint little seaside village of Kennewycke. It had been at Dare's suggestion, of course. And Morgan had never thought anything of it. But now, she thought she understood. This was the place where she and Stark would meet. Where she would get her orders. Where Stark would use her for his own purposes. And the man was using her. Morgan was sure of it.
Men talked. It was a fact of nature. Men liked to bear tales to their friends, stories of conquest and wenching. It was the way of men and she'd learned long ago to ignore such activities. That didn't mean she didn't listen when they talked. And the men loved to tell stories of Lord Anthony Stark, to share with one another the man's legendary conquests. She knew that Stark took women where he would, with no promise of anything beyond a night or two. He used them for his own purposes. There was a rumor that he'd wanted to marry once, that he'd asked for the hand of a woman who had turned him down. And that it was because of this unnamed woman that he never stayed with one woman for very long.
It was a load of shite. She didn't believe a word of it. She'd met men like Anthony Stark before. They were men who took what they wanted, from whomever they wanted, without care for how it would impact anyone else. Her father was such a man, one who did what was best for him and used those around him to gain those things he desired. That was why she'd taken the ship as soon as she'd learned of her grandfather's wishes. Her father would never have let her have it to begin with. And she knew better than to think that Robert had come to watch over her for the man. Or, rather, not the way Robert would have her believe. He was there to spy on her, plain and simple.
He had been. Until she'd discovered that part of the reason Robert had joined her was because of his feelings for her. Feelings she knew her father was unaware of. That worked in her favor.
It amazed her that Robert was nothing like her father or Lord Stark. At the beginning, when they'd first consummated their relationship, she'd expected him to be a man who used those around him. But he'd proven that his concern was her. And only her. Not that he didn't send missives off to her father when they were docked. But she knew that they were all filled with absolutely nothing her father could use. Nothing he wanted to know.
One of the men roused her from her thoughts, calling something across the deck to another hand. A ribald joke, one not fit for a lady's ears, that brought forth a round of laughter. She let her gaze wander from one deck hand to the next, absently watching them go about their work. A peal of loud, boisterous laughter echoed toward her across the water, coming from the direction of Stark's vessel. Unhooking her glass from the loop that kept it ready at her side, she extended it even as she lifted it to her eye.
The lenses on the inside brought the far deck into crystal clear detail, showing her a group of men who were busy at tasks meant to ready a ship for sailing, much like the men on her own vessel were doing. She caught sight of a few familiar faces, ones she recalled seeing from their time as guests at Thor's hall. A blonde. A brunette. The dark head of Stark. The glass showed her that there was a very unhappy look on his face and the way in which he pointed suggested he was going to take that temper out on his crew.
"He's an arse, Morgan." Dare's voice was practically in her ear as she spoke and Morgan glanced away from the glass for just a moment to take in the other woman's face. It looked as if she'd done very little sleeping the night before. There were dark half-moons smudged under her eyes and a tightness in their corners that suggested she'd been up for hours already. Was it Morgan's imagination or was her skin just a touch paler? "Dinnae pay him ana mind."
"Did you meet `im every time we put into port?" she asked. Dare tugged the glass from her hands and raised it to glance across the water. Only for a moment, The glass was shoved back into her hold right quick and the way Dare's lips twisted suggested that she hadn't liked what she'd seen. The woman turned to stalk away from her, giving her a chance to lift the glass once more. Just for a moment. Stark was watching their ship through his own glass. When he saw her looking, a smile curved up his lips. She lowered the glass and returned it to the place on her belt.
Dare was busy ladling fresh water over her head when Morgan caught up to her. That wasn't something she'd ever seen the other woman do before. But she'd seen the men do it. When they'd been trying to clear their head after a night of drinking. Not that Dare would ever allow something so trivial as drink interfere with her enjoyment of sailing. The woman had claimed loudly that she had salt water flowing in her veins and nothing would ever get between her and her passion for pirating. So if she wasn't coming off a night of drink, there was only one other explanation. She'd gotten sick recently.
She'd seen the men dunk their heads after a particularly bad bout of sea sickness or some other ailment. They claimed it rinsed the sickness away and cleared their head. It wasn't something she'd ever seen Dare do. Not in all the years she'd known her. She considered commenting about it, but changed her mind when she saw the look in the other woman's eyes when she lifted her head. Something was bothering her. "Dare, did you meet `im every time we put into port?"
"Aye." The Scots wench bit the word off savagely, her gaze drifting back toward the other ship. "`Twill nae happen again, Morgan."
Morgan stared at her. Neither of them really believed her. There was a desperation in Dare's eyes that said she'd happily run herself through with her own sword rather than meet with the man again. Morgan wanted to ask Dare if it had been worth it, if selling her soul had been worth the things she'd done. But she refrained, because something told her that doing so would be hazardous to her health. "Where did you spend ze night?" she asked instead.
"In a tree," Dare replied. For a moment, Morgan thought she had to be jesting. But the tilt of the woman's mouth said that she had, in fact, spent the night in a tree.
"Did you get any sleep?" Morgan blinked.
"A wee bit. `Tis nae a comfortable spot," Dare shrugged. Then she offered a grin. "`Tis where I hid when my Da got mad at me."
"And Lord Stark would not look for you in ze trees, would `e?" Morgan asked. Dare only grinned wider and turned to wander toward their cabin. It was likely she was going to go change her clothes. There were bits of bark clinging to the seat of her breeches and the sleeves of her tunic.
Left alone, Morgan turned to ensure that her men were still hard at work preparing the ship to sail. She needn't have worried over much. Supplies were being stowed, ropes made ready, the rigging and sails inspected. She noted that there were other vessels in the harbor besides hers and Stark's that were making ready to sail. There were several other ship that were busy with activity. A few had already put out to sea with the first rays of morning light.
She was in the middle of issuing an order when she spied Rosemary and Jehnna making their way on board. She smiled as they approached. "Good. We are almost all `ere. Now we only need `Aley and we are ready to sail."
Jehnna motioned with one hand toward the corvette across the bay. "No doubt she is still wrapped around the blonde from the island. I saw men from Stark's ship heading into town as we were on our way here. I expect she'll be here soon."
Morgan nodded at that, then made a motion to the deck. "Zere is work to be done, ladies. A few more `ands will make it go faster."
"Where is Dare?" Rosemary asked as she moved to help move a barrel toward the hold.
"Changing `er clothes. She slept in a tree last night." The announcement saw the two women smirking at Morgan a moment. But the smirk died out when the door to the cabin opened and Dare stepped out in fresh breeches and tunic. Her corset was the same one, her feet bare. A feathered hat sat upon her head as she crossed to them. Jehnna and Rosemary stifled a few giggles as she passed.
"When do we sail?" Dare asked, ignoring the other women.
"As soon as `Aley gets `ere." Morgan helped Jehnna push a heavy coil of ropes into place.
"She didn't come with you?" the Scots wench asked Rosemary, who shook her head in the negative. Dare frowned at that, but said nothing more. The four of them lapsed into silence as they took stock of the ship. Not that they needed to. The men knew their jobs. But it was habit and a good one to practice. On the off chance that something was amiss.
She was in the middle of her last sweep when a voice called to her from across the deck. "Permission to come aboard, Captain!" She turned, as did Jehnna, Rosemary and Dare, to see who was asking. The blonde from Stark's crew stood at the edge of the railing, his feet still on the gang plank. Morgan cast a glance from one woman to the next, taking note of the faint looks of concern they wore, then finally looked back to him and nodded her agreement.
"Come aboard, sailor."
The man stepped onto the deck and crossed to them. "We're getting ready to put the sails to the wind. I wanted to bid Haley a safe journey." His eyes skimmed around the deck slowly as he looked for her. When they landed on Morgan again, there was curiosity in them. "Where is she?"
"We zought she was with you," Morgan replied. The man blinked at her.
"I've not seen her since the morning you sailed from Thor's island," he told her.
The words were barely finished when Morgan turned toward the nearest man. "Cam, `ave you seen `Aley at all zis morning?" The man shook his head no before going back to work. When Morgan turned back toward the blonde, there was concern in his eyes. Which was perfectly acceptable, because it matched the concern that had filled her eyes along with those of the women at her side. "Did any of you see `Aley last night?"
"Just when she passed us when leaving the Unicorn," Jehnna replied. Morgan nodded, recalling that Haley had looked slightly upset. "She had just come from the upper levels."
Dare's frown changed with that. "The upper levels, ye say?" she asked. It was Jehnna who nodded this time. "Shite! The bastard! I'm going tae kill him." Without saying another word, the woman turned and stalked off. Morgan decided that she wasn't the one who was going to be on the receiving end of Dare's temper.
There was murder shining in her eyes.
~*~*~*~*~
The touch against her back was so cool. It felt as if her skin was on fire, as if she was caught up in a big blaze with heat and flames licking at her from all sides. But it was strange, because she felt as if she was floating in the fire, as if she was weightless and insubstantial. It wasn't so bad like this. The pain seemed distant, hidden by the heat that raced through her and left her unable to lift a single limb. The touch came again, liquid and select. It dragged over the spot on her back where the pain seemed worst before she felt it against her head. Dampness touched her, soothed the fire just the slightest bit. Left her feeling safe.
Then the shivering started and she was so cold that the hands sliding over her skin were fire hot, burning the flesh from her bones. She thought she heard someone talking, trying to catch her attention. Thought she heard someone whisper her name softly. But the hands on her back were like tongues of flame, pouring molten heat along her nerves until she wanted to scream with the pain of it all. She remembered the screams...
The fire was climbing ever higher, reaching for the sky as the wood piled up under Harper's feet caught and burned. His clothes were blazing, tongues of flame crawling over them gleefully as they reached for his face. His hair. She stood stoically and watched as the fingers of fire crept up over him. He hadn't wanted her to come, had begged her to stay away. Naturally she'd ignored him, just as she'd always ignored him when he thought she shouldn't do something. She had to see this. Had to remember it. Had to be sure Harper knew that she was there for him.
People cheered and booed and hissed. They called him names. Some actually threw things at him, pelted him with pieces of rotten food. Threw rocks. He stayed silent, his gaze cast above their heads. No doubt he was staring off into the distance at nothing. Doing his best to show his sister that he was strong enough for this. One of the stones hit his temple and blood welled up in its wake. A thin trickle of red ran down the side of Harper's face, but he didn't acknowledge it. He just stood there and waited. And the flames climbed higher...
The heat felt like a distant thing, something that didn't quite belong to her. Perhaps that was because the chill that ran along her skin kept the heat at bay. She could hear sobbing in the distance, hoarse cries of pain that didn't make any sense. And she could hear a faint voice talking to her, telling her that it would be alright. That she'd be alright. It sounded familiar. She thought she should know it, but her head was too stuffed with cotton to really care. And she was floating, everything slipping away from her before it could become real and sharp. It was as if she was drifting on the tide, waves of nothing pulling anything around her out to sea.
She peered through the bushes, watching as Harper and Jonathan laughed and splashed water on one another. Of course they didn't know she was there. If they did, neither of them would have stripped down to nothing to play in the water lapping at the edge of the lake. Seeing Harper unclothed was no big deal. Her brother had a favored maid on staff and there had been more than one occasion that she'd caught the two of them in the middle of their midnight games. No. The reason she was here was because of Jonathan. She'd wanted to see him like this.
She'd been in love with him ever since she'd been a small girl, had secretly idolized her brother's closest friend. She'd watched him grow from a lanky youth into a handsome, well shaped young man. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, but seeing him did strange things to her body. She'd felt such strange urges that she'd done things...
"Are you ever going to stop tumbling the maid and get serious about a woman, Harper?" Jonathan asked with a laugh in his voice. His blonde hair glistened with droplets of water that clung to the pale strands, more dewy drops clinging to his shoulders and back, to his arse and... She sucked a breath when he turned so she could see his front. Mother of God, he was beautiful...
The urge to tug her stolen breeches down was almost more than she could handle. She needed to feel something. She closed her eyes, shuddering with the rush of desire that coursed through her.
"Relax, my love. I won't hurt you. I promise." Jonathan's voice was soft in her ear, his breath hot against her bared flesh. But hot as his breath was, his touch was hotter. It sent tiny bolts of lightning flashing under her skin. Her nipples puckered and she shifted her thighs unconsciously. When the palms of his hands skimmed over the curves of her breasts, she moaned softly and the sound painted the room with her need.
The bare skin of his chest pressed to her back as he closed the distance between them. Her breath hitched in her throat when his fingers slid between her thighs, when he rumbled his appreciation in her ear because his fingers found her wetness. When he slid them inside of her, she closed her eyes and relaxed into him...
"Damn it, Harper. Haven't I told you that girl isn't for you?" Jonathan's voice was filled with anger and something else. She wasn't sure what it was, but it seemed as if her brother thought he knew.
"Jealous, old man?" There was a laugh in Harper's words as he said them. Jonathan shook his head and dragged a hand through his hair. "Theresa is a beautiful woman."
"I have no interest in Miss Cassidy and you bloody well know it," Jonathan announced. Harper turned and gave him a look that spoke volumes. Unfortunately, she didn't know what her brother was saying to the other man. "I just don't trust her, Harper. She was seen last night with one James Madrox and they were much too close to one another to simply be acquaintances."
"You worry for nothing, Jonathan. Theresa loves me. Don't worry so much, old man. You'll see. Just trust me."
"I trust you perfectly well, Harper. You've been my best friend practically since birth. Its that woman I don't trust." Jonathan practically stormed from the room then and she hurried to catch him. She wanted to know why he didn't trust Harper's betrothed. But he was faster than she was. By the time she'd found her way to the stables, he'd already mounted his stallion and galloped away.
She had to know, so she screamed to be heard over the sounds of his horse's shoes on the cobble stones. "Jonathan!"
"Shhh, Haley. I'm here." A man's voice. It sounded in her ear, soothing and gentle. She knew she should know that voice, but she couldn't name it. Couldn't think past the pain that saw every muscle in her body seizing.
The room was stifling hot. She could feel the heat pressing in around her. But she felt so damned cold. And she was so tired. It seemed like she couldn't sleep enough. One eye managed to pop open. The room was in shadows, everything blurred. But she saw a table near her head, saw a tin mug that meant there was something to drink. As if only just realizing it, her throat was parched and her tongue so thick that it felt as if it didn't really fit into her mouth. She tried for the mug with one hand, but didn't have the strength to even lift her arm.
A pair of hands were suddenly there, one lifting the mug while the other lifted her head. She barely managed to swallow once before she realized that she couldn't do it again. Not that it mattered. She was laying down again, hands soothing through her hair and down her back in careful strokes that pulled her back toward the yawning abyss of darkness. Some part of her didn't want to go. But the shadows were stronger than she was and so she felt herself sliding back into nothingness.
His hands stroked softly down her back, fingers trailing along her spine before splitting and moving down over the curves of her arse. His mouth followed the path his hands had set, the ends of his hair ticking across her flesh to leave goose bumps in their wake. She sighed softly and settled her cheek against her folded arms. When he reached the small of her back, he started making his way back up. She stared at the gold band that circled her finger, a symbol of his love. It wasn't much, a mere token, he'd told her when he'd slipped it onto her finger, but it meant the world to her.
The sheets, plain cotton that was a little coarse against her skin, shifted as he moved lower. His hands traced the backs of her thighs while his mouth left tiny kisses and little nips against the twin globes of her backside. His hands were sure and his mouth teased as he touched every inch of her flesh. It didn't seem possible that they'd stood before the priest at the village church only a few scant hours ago. It didn't seem possible that she could be so happy. Not after everything that had happened.
"Never have I seen a woman formed by such comely long limbs. And when the sun touches your hair, `tis as if the goddess Brigid has come to earth," he whispered softly in her ear. She was vaguely aware of his flesh pressed against her bum as he fit his hips between her thighs. "Never before have I seen such beauty, beloved wife."
"The things you say," she replied. The heat in her cheeks told her they were flaming in embarrassment. "Such sweet words. I certainly don't deserve them."
"But you do, love," he replied, his hands stroking down her sides until he could curl them around her hips. She let him position her, let him shift her so that the head of his cock pressed up against her very center. "I knew the moment I saw you that you were the woman for me. I knew then that I would love no other. You bespelled me with your beauty."
"I believe I can find a better use for your tongue than..." Her words died on a soft gasp as he fed himself inside of her. When he was fully sheathed, when he could fill her no more, he leaned down to press a kiss against her shoulder.
"`Tis you I love, Haley. You and only you. For the rest of my life," he promised, then pulled back...
The blue of his eyes was almost hypnotic as he poised over her, as he waited for her to beg him. Such was the way with them. Almost from the start, he would tease her with hands and fingers and mouth and tongue until she begged him to take her. Until she was mindless with need for him.
But there would be no begging this night. No demanding and pleading. No hard and fast coupling. Tonight, she wanted long and slow and tender. Tonight, she wanted their joining to be celebratory. She slid a hand between them and let her fingers curl around him. A smile spread across her face when his eyes fluttered closed and a groan rolled up his throat. She gave him a gentle squeeze before stroking her hand down his length. "Tonight, my love, I ask that you take your time and pleasure me properly."
"Don't I always? By God, Haley. Unhand me or I won't be able to please you at all." His voice was filled with a hint of anguish. She smiled up at him, then made another stroke, squeezed him again and let him go.
"But you must take extra care tonight, love. I would not risk the safety of our child to your vigorous nature." He'd been about to plunge into her, but her words halted him with only the very head of his shaft buried inside of her. The look in his eyes was one of disbelief and amazement.
"A child? Are you certain? There's a child?" he asked, drawing back so that he could kneel between her splayed legs. She smiled and propped herself up on her elbows, thrusting her breasts toward him.
"I came from the midwife only this afternoon. She's assured me that there's a child." He stared at her for a few moments longer before his hands crept up to cover her belly. The smile he wore was so large, his joy at the news more than obvious. "She says my constantly being tired is a sign. And she said that I should soon start thickening `round the middle. Will you still love me when I grow fat with child?"
"You will be the most beautiful woman in the world when your belly grows large with our child. And I will love you more then than I do now," he swore, the promise in his words and on his face and in his eyes. She smiled softly at him, pulling him down to her so that she could kiss him senseless. He settled over her, his hands shifting her legs into position even as he feasted upon her lips. She felt him pressing into her slowly. "I love you with all my heart, Haley."
"And I love you, Clinton," she whispered, her voice a long sigh of contentment.
"Haley? You have to drink, love. The fever is taking all of your strength. If you don't drink the broth, you'll not be able to fight the poison," he told her as he slowly worked her up into a sitting position. She felt weak as a newborn kitten, his body cradling hers as he positioned her so that he could slowly pour the broth into her mouth. She swallowed, but only because not doing so would mean she'd drown.
She didn't want to think about anything, didn't want to move. All she wanted to do was lay in the darkness and float. The floating feeling was still there, through not as strong as earlier. And the pain was more intense than before, leaving her wishing for the nothingness of sleep. His voice anchored her to the here and now, a familiar chord that she knew she should know. Something about it was so damned familiar. But she couldn't place it. Not through the haze of pain and the lingering wisps of images that tumbled through her head even as she held on to consciousness.
The broth was soon gone, but something foul slid down her throat after it. She didn't have a chance to spit it out because a hand stroked her neck in order to ensure she swallowed. Then she was slowly, carefully, laid back down on a thick mattress. Pain jolted through her, leaving her gasping for breath as the shadows around her became momentarily darker. Then the dizziness came, so that she felt like she was rocking back and forth. She rode up one wave and then down into the next. Rode the pain. Rode the swelling dizziness. Rode the waves...
The ship! She had to get back! Morgan would be ready to sail and they wouldn't leave without her? Would they? She struggled to move, rolling in an attempt to climb from the bed. Hands were there, urging her down to the mattress again. She fought it, struggled with what little strength she had to get away. "The ship. Have to get back to the ship," she muttered.
"Haley! Stop this! You're much too ill to go anywhere." The voice was in her ear, arms around her as they tried to still her motions. She had a glimpse of blue eyes staring out of a tired face, unkempt blonde hair. A familiar twist of remembered lips. Shirtless and tanned. Strong. "You need to rest, Haley."
She knew that face, had dreamt of it so much but... It couldn't be. Surprise allowed him to press her back into the sheets and it was only when she was still that she saw the smears of blood against his skin. Felt the pain lance her side. Saw the shadows swallow her down. The fire of pain followed her into unconsciousness.
His clothes were on fire, smoke curling up off his breeches and tunic. Both were torn and dirty. Both were the garments of a common man. They'd taken his fine clothes from him when they'd imprisoned him and left him with the garb of a criminal. But they couldn't take the pride from his face. Couldn't take the stubborn angle of his jaw and the knowing look in his eyes. Bastards. They'd even shorn his rich red locks down almost to the scalp. There were some tufts that were longer than others, as if the barber that had cut his hair had been drunk when he'd done it.
Even like that, even wearing cheap clothes and without his hair, Harper was every inch the man that none of the noble class would ever be. Someone threw a glob that she thought was mud. But then the stench of it reached her nose and she wanted to cry. Dung. They were throwing clumps of animal dung at him. Harper never moved, never said anything. Never even batted an eyelash. Just took everything like a man.
The people in the crowd were no better than animals.
The room was dark, only a single candle burning in the corner. He was sleeping in the chair, head at an uncomfortable angle while his arms lay limply in his lap. She could see his chest rising and falling slowly in his sleep. A name was on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't dare utter it for fear this was all a dream. Just like everything had been a dream lately. If it was a dream, she didn't want it to simply disappear. She didn't think she could handle it if he was just suddenly gone.
She vaguely wondered where she was and how long she'd been there. The scratch of the cloth against her skin told her that she was naked under the coverings and that should be worrisome. But she couldn't bring herself to care. She was in one of the floating stages, where everything seemed to be distant and unreal. The pain was far away for a time and she thought she could get used to that. She tried to remember what had happened, but things were so fuzzy. There'd been darkness, hadn't there? And a flash of silver? Maybe...
Given that she was on her stomach, she was sure that the pain came from her back. Shifting her arms confirmed that as agony speared down one side of her body. With it came the unsettling feeling of fire racing under her skin, prompting her to close her eyes and swallow hard.
How long had she been here? Had the crew sailed without her? She wished she could force herself to get up and seek the ship out. She thought she could hear the sounds of the harbor through the windows. Gulls calling and wood creaking as ships rocked on the tide. Men laughing, their voices rising as they spoke to one another. What she wouldn't give to feel the deck beneath her feet again. She swore, even as she laid there, that she could feel the world rocking and rolling with the shift of the ocean. Suddenly, before she even realized it was happening, she was sliding head first back into the darkness and everything simply became unreal.
"He looks so much like you," she whispered, watching the tiny boy as he grasped at his father's breeches and pulled himself up on unsteady, chubby little legs. Golden curls gleamed in the light pouring in through the windows, only a shade darker than those that crowned his sire's head. His smile and his baby laughter were infectious, seeing both of his parents laughing in the face of his gleeful discovery.
The tot took one trembling step, then a second and a third, before plopping down onto the floor on his tiny bottom. The boy's face wrinkled for a moment, but before he could wail out his displeasure, he was scooped up by his father's capable hands and held close to a broad chest. "That's my lad. Come the morrow, you'll be running as swiftly as the forest beasts."
She watched them closely, a warm smile upon her face. They were so much alike, almost two peas in a pod. Father and son shared the same laughing blue eyes and the same devilish smile that had long ago melted her heart. Even his curls defied her attempts to tame them. That was one of those things she'd always loved about her husband. Every time she looked at him, she saw him on the deck of a ship with the wind tossing his hair around his face restlessly. It reminded her of her life before all of this joy.
He turned to her and settled the lad in her lap, though there was little room available for the tot. As he did so, he leaned down and laid a hand against the growing swell of her belly. His mouth found hers, as unerring as the arrows he fired when hunting for food. When his head lifted away, she could see the joy and happiness in his eyes. "Soon enough, he'll have a brother or sister to play with. One that will bear a striking resemblance to his or her mother."
"Were I not heavy with child, you would be doing something much more enjoyable with that mouth than offering up a few pretty words."
"I believe I can manage that when our son goes down for a nap," he promised, his eyes filled with wickedness...
Laughter rang through the trees, some high and childish and some deep and masculine. She watched from her blanket as her three sons pulled their father down into the long grass, their hands moving rapidly as they tried to tickle him. Their daughter was watching with big blue eyes, the rag doll she'd gotten as a gift for her birthday held tightly in her hands. It was obvious she wanted to play with her brothers and her father, but she'd been told by her siblings that she wasn't tough enough to play with them. Because she was a girl.
Haley considered it a moment, then called the girl over and pulled her into her lap. "Don't look so sad, poppet. Your brothers have no idea how tough a woman can be," she told the girl, stroking fingers through the curly golden locks. Sad but curious blue eyes were turned her way. She definitely had the girl's interest. "I used to know five women who sailed the seas as pirates."
Eyes as big as sauces regarded her. "John said that girls can't be pirates. He said that pirating is a man's job."
"Your brother John might be the oldest of you four, but he doesn't know as much as he thinks he does." Haley said, letting her gaze slide over to the eldest boy, who was busy trying to wrestle his father into submission. She smiled and shook her head. "I knew these ladies well and I assure you, my dove, that they were the most dangerous and feared pirates in all the land. None dared tangle with them because they weren't known for mercy. They were all quick with their swords and there was no man who could best them."
The girl frowned and regarded her brothers again. Then her eyes found her father and she frowned harder. "Not even Papa?"
The smile that slipped across Haley's face was full of memory. It was at that moment that Clinton looked up at her. Their eyes met and she saw the love he had for her blossom in his gaze, saw it give a sensual twist to his lips. It was full of promise. And it brought back a lifetime of memories that she cherished. "Not even Papa, my dove. Now why don't you go over there and show your brothers just who they're trifling with?"
She sent the girl off with a kiss to the cheek and a pat to the backside, watching as she threw herself into the brawl that seemed to be happening over Clinton. He grinned and reached for the girl, his fingers moving to all of her ticklish spots. Girlish laughter filled the air with her brothers. This was a sight she'd never grow tired of. Haley pictured a small babe along side the other four and couldn't stop her hand from settling over her belly.
She'd been planning to tell him today, while the family was relaxing. But it could wait until tonight. After the children had all been put to bed...
The sounds of the ocean reached her ears, though she didn't think they were that close. It felt as if she was rocking again, as if the ship was riding the waves while she slept. Even a cool, salty breeze slid over her skin. With a soft sigh, she snuggled deeper into the warm bedding and let sleep pull her back under again.
"Damn it, Jonathan! We can't bring her in here! This isn't an appropriate establishment for her," Harper hissed at the man who was presently ensuring that she looked very much like a young man. The stocking he'd given her for her trousers was uncomfortable and kept shifting from one side to the other. She suspected that real men didn't have this problem.
"Relax, Harper. She'll be with me the whole time." Jonathan didn't bother looking at her brother. He just tugged the cap he'd given her farther down on her head and made sure that it obscured half of her face.
"That is exactly what I'm afraid of," Harper grumbled. "If Father was to find out about this..."
"Relax, Harper. Your father won't hear a word of it." Jonathan stepped back so that Harper could see her. She watched her brother's eyes go wide in surprise and took it as a good sign. After one last adjustment to the coat he'd loaned her, Jonathan grinned and gave a flourish of one hand. "Allow me to introduce you to my poor country cousin, Roderick."
"I say, Jonathan. That isn't half bad. If I didn't know it was Haley, I would be hard pressed to believe that she was a girl." Harper remained silent for a few moments, then inclined his head and nodded. "Very well. So long as she stays with you and so long as she keeps her clothes on. If I hear a word about Roderick losing his trousers, there will be hell to pay."
"Roderick will keep all of his clothes on. And won't dare utter a word because he's so shy and retiring." Jonathan shot Haley a smirk, one that told her he'd known it would work. She nodded her head in reply. Harper sighed and tossed his hands up in the air.
"God save me from nosy little sisters," he said, but she could hear that he didn't really mean it...
"You look ravishing tonight, Miss Stone," Jonathan's voice was crisp and elegant. Of course, it matched the garb he'd put on for the party. She flashed him a smile and dipped into a curtsey. "Would I be presuming too much if I asked you to walk in the gardens with me?"
He held his arm out for her, waiting for her to take it or not. Haley glanced at her father and saw the kindly smile on his face, his signal that he had no problems with it. She turned a brilliant smile on Jonathan and slid her arm into his. "I would be honored."
He dipped into half a bow before straightening and escorting her through the throng of people toward the opened French doors. Outside, the air was crisp and cool, a hint of rain scenting it. There were a few couples strolling in the garden, but most paid them no mind. He simply led her further into the darkness, finally stopping at an alcove created by climbing vines that had grown up around some kind of arch. There was a bench that he helped her down onto, then took his place beside her. "Your father informed me that you agreed to become my wife. You can't know how thrilled I am to hear it, Haley."
"No more so than I am to have been asked," she replied softly.
"We'll have a good life together, Haley. I know it." He closed the distance between them and brushed a kiss across her lips. She was breathing hard when he pulled back, even though he'd barely touched his mouth to hers. "I love you, Haley Stone. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life making you happy."
And then he crushed her against him, his lips hot and commanding on her own. Haley melted into him. She really liked the sound of that.
The room was hot again, which didn't make sense. She felt cold, frozen. As if something horrible was going to happen. And she couldn't seem to wake herself up, couldn't seem to pull herself from the haze that clung to her. She struggled against it, but hands held her down while someone else tried to pour something vile and disgusting down her throat.
It burned as she swallowed, nearly choking her, and left her sputtering as hands were just suddenly stroking her head and whispering calming words in her ear. Once again, she felt herself float away just a moment before she fell down the rabbit hole.
The flames were so high now, she could barely see his face. Only flashes of skin, flashes of burning hair and cloth, flashes of black, cracked flesh that had been seared by the fire. And he was screaming. Oh, God, he was screaming.
She shouldn't have been able to hear it over the crackle of the fire and the roar of the crowd. But she could. He'd been stoic up until only a few moments ago. But now that flames were crawling up every inch of his body, he could do nothing but vent the pain that ate at him. She watched it all, determined to remember this day. To remember his death, senseless and stupid as it was. She was determined. But that didn't mean that she could remain stoic.
Tears slid down her cheeks, her nose so plugged that she had to breathe through her mouth. God, the flames...
She wanted to change to her other form then, wanted to leap through the fire and save him. But it was too late. And she was afraid. So she simply stood there and watched. Watched as perfect strangers called him witch and demon and any number of things that were untrue. Watched as the flames climbed higher and higher. Watched as, occasionally, the tongues of fire split apart to show her a green gaze holding hers from a face that was black and falling away. Watched as he died in slow agony.
Listened as he screamed and screamed.
"Harper!"
"Shhh, Haley. Its okay, love. `Twas naught but a bad dream. You're safe, my love. You're safe. Shhh." A pair of strong arms held her close to a muscled chest. Well remembered hands stroked down her spine soothingly. Her heart pounded against her rib cage and she couldn't seem to stop shaking. She felt so damned cold. So numb.
But the warmth of the body holding hers was slowly seeping into her body, warming her by slow degrees, until she could finally pull away to stare up into the face that had so recently haunted her dreams.
He hadn't changed since she'd last seen him. Except for the dark circled under his eyes and the growth of stubble on his chin. A mouth that used to laugh almost constantly was harder than she remembered. But the eyes were the same, a merry blue whose vibrancy had never faded once in her memories. "Jonathan?" she asked, afraid she was still dreaming.
"Aye, Haley. `Tis me." He said it so matter of factly. As if they saw one another every day. And then his mouth took hers, hot and hungry, and he kissed the breath right out of her lungs.
~*~*~*~*~
"You cannot go in there, miss! My lord isn't receiving any visitors!" someone told her as she barreled her way toward the cabin door. She didn't bother to stop and didn't notice when a hand fell on her shoulder. At least, not until it swung her around and halted her in her tracks. Dare was blind to everything but the fact that the miserable bastard was hiding in his cabin. And she couldn't get to him if his crew insisted on stopping her. Hand formed into a fist, she spun and swung. Her knuckles connected with a hard jaw and sent the man reeling. She vaguely recognized him from their time on Thor's island as Anthony's second, then she stomped across the deck and shoved the door open without bothering to knock.
Stark was sitting in a chair, staring at a few pages of parchment laid out before him. When he didn't look up at her, she snarled out a curse and burned the pages to ash in the blink of an eye. "Oh, I'm sorry, Alasdare. Did you wish to speak to me? I thought we were ignoring one another now."
"Hauld yer whist," she snarled at him. "I'm no' going tae play games wi' ye today. Where's Haley?"
He looked at her as if he had no idea what she was talking about. The sounds of someone approaching the cabin brought forth another snarl, then a gesture of her hand saw the door slamming shut by itself. She advanced on him and slammed her hands done on the table before him. "Tell me where Haley is or I'll cut yer heart out o' yer chest."
"Really, Alasdare. Your accent is getting worse. I believe you are overdue some lessons," he began, but she shut him up when she pulled her blade from its sheath. Fire ran up the length of the weapon as it inched close to him.
"`Tisnae the day tae play wi' me, Stark. Either tell me where Haley is or I'll see ye dead." The door rattled on its hinges, but didn't open. She still had time. Almost idly, she let the tip of her blade touch his finely wrought tunic. The sizzle of the thread being eaten away by her flames brought a smile to her face that, based on the look he shot her, belonged on the lips of a madman.
A second later, he was on his feet and she was diving for cover as the table flipped toward her. Her sword went spinning in one direction as she went in the other. Before she could recover herself, he was sitting on her, his hands and legs pinning her to the ground. "I've no idea what you're talking about, Alasdare, but I would advise you remember just who I am to you. Don't make me return you to the Tower. You won't enjoy your stay, short as it will be."
"Ye can go tae Hell!" she spat a second before her forehead made contact with his face. He hissed out a painful curse and fell back, hands pressed to his brow. She scrambled away from him and rose to her feet. The lost sword returned to her hand. Slowly, with a great deal of care, Stark rose and stared at her. "Where is she? Tell me now. Tell me or I'll burn this whole bloody ship to naught more than ash."
The fire formed around her hand, jumped and flickered as it strained to be set free. Stark watched it, a sort of morbid fascination on his face. She gave that madman's smile again and lifted her hand, ready to set the fire free. But the door crashed open and men spilled into the cabin. "Dare! No. I swear to you, he had nothing to do with her disappearance."
The next thing she knew, Barton had her pinned to the wall and the other blonde, the one she'd hit earlier, was between her and her target. The sword in his hand said he wouldn't let her past him again. "He bloody well kens! He sent her tae the red headed bitch! He sent her because he kens what she is. Where is she, Stark? Where? Tell me or I'll kill ye!"
"Clinton, what the hell is she babbling about?" Stark asked, apparently back under control. Dare struggled against Barton's hold, but he had her well and truly pinned.
"Her shipmate has gone missing."
"Aye! And the last anaone saw her, she'd just come from speaking to ye! Where is she?" Dare snarled, still trying to pull free of the man holding her. Despite being pressed against the wall as she was, she could see Anthony's face when he digested that bit of news.
"I swear to you on my life, Alasdare, that no mischief befell her by my hand. I would never hurt your friends," Stark told her, sounding sincere. He turned to the other man, seemingly dismissing her, and began barking out orders. "Steven, form a search party and assist Alasdare in locating her missing crewmate. Clinton, let her go. You're lucky she's not tried to kick you yet."
Barton released her and stepped back. Dare shot him a scowl. "We'll find her, Dare. I promise you," Barton told her softly. She snorted, looking from one face to the next. Then she snarled a curse and fled through the door. Bugger his help.
She'd find Haley herself...
~*~*~*~*~
She watched him move unabashedly, her eyes feasting on his form as he went about making a meal for her. Something stronger and more nourishing than broth if the heavenly smells coming her way were any indication. Slowly, with great care, Haley pulled herself up into a sitting position. The blanket was coarse against her skin and she was still weak, but it felt good to be up. And the wound to her shoulder didn't pain her as much as it had only a few days ago. It pulled, but it didn't ache.
Jonathan stood over the fire with little more than a pair of breeches on, the material clinging to the curves of his arse and thighs like the hand of a lover. Something deep inside of her woke and filled her with hunger. By God, he was still as handsome as ever. The candle light glowed golden across his skin, picking out a few small scars here and there that hadn't marred his skin when last she'd seen him without his shirt. She ached with the need to run her hands over his skin and relearn every single inch of him.
It had been a shock for her to wake and find him there. She thought she'd dreamt him, all of him. That he'd been a product of her fever. But he'd been so solid and strong against her. So real. Despite the fact that he looked as if he needed a week's uninterrupted sleep. For the first hour or so, he'd done nothing but hold her, his hands stroking her skin as he'd pressed her tight against him. After that, he'd spilled the story of how he'd been waiting for her to show up in Kennewycke again, that he'd been following her all these years, and he'd just happened to see her slip into the alley with two men trailing her. There'd been a short fight that had seen both men dead. And her poisoned. So he'd spent nigh unto a sennight nursing her back to health.
And after his story, he'd simply held her some more.
She was still thinking idly about the past few days when he turned, a bowl in one hand and a tankard in the other. He offered her a smile as he carried her meal over to the bed. She made sure to keep the blankets wrapped tightly around her and shifted on the bed so that there was room for him to sit beside her.
After settling the tankard on a table beside the bed, he pushed the bowl into her hands. It held a rich looking stew that smelled heavenly. A trip back to the fire resulted in a spoon and a chunk of fresh bread that she eagerly dipped into the thick broth. The gravy exploded across her taste buds like a slice of the most decadent sweet or the finest mead. Despite the fact that her stomach rumbled with pleasure and the desire for more, she forced herself to eat slow. To savor every last bite.
Jonathan settled on the bed beside her and watched as she ate. She'd polished off the chunk of bread before she realized that he wasn't eating. Frowning, she turned to look at him. "Why didn't you fill a bowl for yourself? You look as if you haven't eaten since the fight in the alley."
"I'd like to simply sit here and watch you eat. Seeing you enjoy your meal will give me pleasure. I'll have mine when you've finished," he promised her. She stared at him for a while, then shrugged and ladled up a spoonful of stew with the spoon he'd provided her. The meat was tender and flavorful, while the vegetables were crisp and fresh. She stared at him in surprise. "You shouldn't look quite so amazed. Susan made sure I was well able to care for myself. She always thought that no one else would want to." There was a hint of dark humor to his words. It mingled with a sense of hollowness that she knew well.
"You miss your sister, don't you? When was the last time you saw her?" she asked, spooning up more of the stew.
"The day after you left me," he told her, his voice lacking any discernable emotion. She frowned and tried not to look his way. While there was no accusation in his tone, it was still there all the same. And she just couldn't explain to him why she'd run the way she had. She hadn't wanted to see the revulsion and horror on his face then and she still didn't now. "Haley..."
"I don't want to talk about it, Jonathan. I can't." Her tone was firm and she saw, from the corner of her eye, what her words had done. He was upset with her evasive tactic and he didn't really want to let her get away with not talking about it. But he didn't press her further. Instead, he fell silent and watched as she slowly worked her way through the bowl of stew. When the bowl was empty, he took it from her and carried it across the room. It was left on a table near the hearth. Then Jonathan was returning to her side, a determined look on his face.
"There are some things we should talk about, Haley," he told her, once more settling at her side. She stared at him for a few moments before giving a weary nod. She didn't know if she was up to a serious talk. But it seemed he was determined to have one anyway. Their eyes met and held, the silence stretching long and thin between them. Then he scooped up one hand and brought it to his lips. The brush of them against her skin sent shudders rolling down her spine and memory blossomed like a flower under the sun. "By God, I've missed you."
That hadn't been what she'd expected and his admission caught her off guard. Jonathan smiled at her and turned her hand palm up so that he could press a second kiss to the center of her hand. Then his wicked, wicked tongue traced patterns against her flesh. She shuddered again, her eyes slipping closed. "Jonathan..." she groaned. "Jon, please!"
"I would love nothing more, Haley. But I don't think you're up to that just yet. You're still weak from fever," he told her, his mouth curling up into a wicked smile. His kisses started working their way up her arm. "But I do love hearing you call my name like that. Do it again." The last was whispered against her ear.
She couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do much of anything but turn toward him and let his mouth take hers. For a moment, the space of her heart beating, she saw another face in her mind, his eyes as bright as his smile. And then he was gone as Jonathan's heat consumed her.
She didn't remember him being that hot. But she could remember being chilled, being plagued with chills as the fever raged in her body. Maybe that was why he suddenly seemed to be burning hot against her skin. Not that it mattered. He inched her back against the bed, his hands carefully tugging the covers away from her. They were shoved toward the end of the bed, twisted and forgotten, as Jonathan's body covered hers and his mouth began feasting on hers hungrily.
Part of her said she shouldn't be doing this, but she didn't care. She ignored the voice that kept telling her it was wrong. His body was perfect, all hard muscles under silken skin, that seemed to have been made just for her. Her hands explored his back and the curve of his arse under the soft material of his breeches. She tasted his skin with kisses that turned to quiet gasps as his hands and mouth moved over her skin.
The grate of his stubble against her flesh sparked tiny wild fires of longing that raced along her nerves until she was literally burning with need for him. He'd apparently forgotten his words of only moments ago, because his head dipped lower and lower, until it was centered between her thighs. His tongue traced a path of fire along the swollen flesh he'd found there, drawing a long moan of sound from her throat. "I thought you said that we shouldn't, Jon," she whispered, her hands burying themselves in his hair. His head lifted and his eyes were dark with desire.
"I find I've changed my mind, Haley. I've missed you so. I want to get to know every inch of you all over again," he replied, then dropped his lips to her belly button. She hissed with pleasure even while her hands fisted in his hair and tugged in an effort to bring him back up over her.
He ignored her, his mouth drifting lower so that he could kiss her there. The lingering weakness was gone, replaced with deep hunger and need. Those things saw her spreading her thighs a little wider for him. His hands stroked the soft length of her thighs while his mouth ate at her and his tongue dipped into her. She felt the building pressure brought to life by his tongue, felt it grow and expand until her spine bowed and she cried out his name and the pleasure crashed over her like the waves of the ocean beating down upon a ship.
Even before her sounds of pleasure had faded away, he'd rid himself of his breeches and had climbed up over her so that his hips were cradled between her thighs. His mouth found her breasts, teased at her nipples until they were hard and ached for more. Then he moved to her lips, kissed at them and tasted them until she opened to him and he thrust himself inside.
Jonathan swallowed down her groan as his body filled hers completely. Her head spun as he drew back and thrust forward, again and again and again. He whispered in her ear, words that told her how beautiful she was, how much he'd missed her, how badly he needed her. She gasped and held him close. Her fingers curled into his back while her legs wrapped around his waist. The pleasure was even more intense than she remembered, more than she'd been prepared for, and that saw her shattering again almost immediately. But she clung to him and moved with him until he found his completion.
Jonathan collapsed on her, his chest heaving as he tried to drag enough air into her lungs. She held him to her, body incapable of anything else. Even as they lay there, caught up in the afterglow of their coupling, Jonathan's mouth moved against her neck and shoulder, leaving kisses and nips behind. And then his teeth latched on to her flesh, biting down until she cried out again. She didn't know if it was pleasure or pain or both. But her neck throbbed when he pulled away and she felt a curious rush of desire. "Mine," Jonathan growled, eyes locked to where he'd bitten her. "That mark claims you as mine. No one else will have you."
"Jonathan..." she began, but he reared back so she could see his face. There was determination there. One hand reached out and pressed to her lips, bringing her to silence before she could tell him that she had to go.
"Stay with me, Haley. Come with me. Let's leave this place and start the life we were meant to have. Let's get married and have a family."
"I can't, Jonathan. I have to stay with my friends. They need me. I can't leave them now," she told him. And she couldn't. Not after the stories Dare had told them. Someone was hunting Witchbreed and had been using them to do so. Now was not the time to disappear. They needed to find a way to end this before it spiraled out of control.
"Pirates? You call them friends?" He sounded surprised by her admission.
"Yes, Jonathan. They're my friends. And they are pirates. I'm a pirate. Its the way I've chosen to live my life," Haley explained. "I won't abandon them."
"But you'll abandon me?" He sounded as if he couldn't believe she'd make such a choice.
"There are reasons. I can't get into them. But trust me. I have to do this." She struggled to sit up, prompting him to offer her a hand. She took it and let him pull her into a sitting position. Haley reached up and ran a hand over his cheek. "I don't want to leave you, Jonathan. I swear it. But I can't simply leave them. They need me."
He only stared for a few moments. Then he nodded and gave her a smile. "If you have some duty to these women that you must do, I'll help you with it."
"Jonathan? What are you saying?"
"I'll come with you. If you think that your friends will have me, that is," he amended. She stared at him, shocked beyond belief. She didn't know what she should say to that. Not that it mattered because, at that moment, the door came crashing off its hinges as a booted foot made contact with it. Haley reached for the covers, dragging them up over her nakedness even as Jonathan faced the door without a stitch of clothing on.
"What the bloody hell?" Dare's voice was low and lethal as she stepped through the destroyed door. Jehnna and Rosemary followed, with Morgan the last one to step inside. Jehnna and Rosemary held their swords. Morgan held a pistol. Dare was empty handed, which was more worrisome than if she'd held a weapon.
Dare's eyes went from Haley, hiding behind the coarse blanket, to Jonathan, who was unashamed in his nudity. The Scots wench's eyes narrowed on the scene and Haley saw her hair start to float around her head. She put a hand out toward her shipmate in hopes that it would stop the woman. "Dare, don't!"
Her words went unheeded.
Dare's black hair circled her head like the halo of a demonic angel and the woman's hands were suddenly engulfed in flames. Her fingers stretched apart as she held them at her sides. And balls of fire started to grow in her palms. Someone was screaming at Dare, but Haley couldn't hear it over the blood rushing in her ears. She only had a second to do this, only had...
The thought shattered as twin fireballs shot across the room to slam dead center into Jonathan's chest. Haley's eyes squeezed shut and she waited for the screaming, waited for the stench of burnt and cooking flesh. Waited for Jonathan to die just like Harper had.
None of it came. In fact, the chaos of the room fell to stunned silence, prompting Haley to open her eyes and look around.
Rosemary, Morgan, and Jehnna all stared with wide eyes. Dare looked shocked and angry, her hands still flickering with fire. And Jonathan... Haley's eyes went wide as she tried to come to grips with what she was seeing. Jonathan's torso was covered in flames, but the rest of him remained untouched. As if his body had simply sucked in the fireballs Dare had thrown at him. He looked at her and she could see something in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Haley. I wanted to tell you, I just didn't know how. I wasn't sure how you'd take it. I wanted to be sure..."
Whatever he wanted to be sure about was lost as the strangeness of the situation impressed itself upon her and unconsciousness rose up to claim her once again.
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Okay, that was fucking awesome! I love love love the fever dreams. I think you hit just the right mix there and... aw, I feel kinda bad now. lol But they were dead on! I love the memory bits both of the stuff with Harper and Jonathan and Harper's death. And the dreams... oh the dreams! *flail*
Also... LOL Leave it to Dare to take on three Avengers and come out the better for it! LOLThink Tony might think twice now? ... nah.
The ending... oh my GOD WOMAN! :D :D :D So perfect! Can't wait to see how that all goes!
Bravo! Excellent work across the board! :D
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i told you that Johnny and Haley came way too easy for me. actually, so did Clint and Haley, too. and i was trying to make sure that the dreams were completely different all the way around. i kind of liked the one where Harper and Jonathan were sneaking Haley into a "gentleman's club" and all. didn't we talk about that at one time? Harper's death was probably the hardest of the group because... i felt it deserved more time than it got. but i had points to hit and all.
yes. leave it to Dare to take on three Avengers. my girl. totally nuts. but i admit, that was kind of fun... hmmmm. no. no more bunnies. none.
the ending was fun. i wasn't going to have the two of them get that up close and personal so quickly, but Johnny kind of... yeah. couldn't say no.
i'm sure its going to be loads of fun.
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And ooh the mess that's going to happen when the two men meet...Oh Lordy can't wait for that!! Don't ask...lol..
This is coming along so well! I can't wait for the next chapter!
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yes. there will be a mess. but i'm sure we'll find a way to work it out.
glad you enjoyed, hon.
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* grins *
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I loved it. The fever dreams were awesome. Dare was like a firestorm. And of course I liked seeing a little bit of what was going on in Morgan's head. I can't wait to see how all this plays out.
Great work!
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the fever dreams were so easy for me to write. i don't know why. they came fairly quickly and ended up taking more space than i'd originally planned. but i was able to adjust and it worked out fine anyway.
i'm trying to hit all of the girls and Remy, too. a few of the other men. where it seems to fit. but definitely the girls and Remy because this is mostly their story.
glad you enjoyed, hon.