She watched as Donovan struggled not to chuckle at Belle's serious reasoning. "I am not worried about being taken seriously," he told her in his usual soft spoken voice. "I just need to distract the family for an hour or two while my crew loots, pillages, and plunders." He flashed her that disarming charm smile of his and she rolled her eyes, obviously immune to it, or so she'd like him to believe. "And to answer to your inquiry concerning your makeup," he began, and leaned forward before caressing her cheekbone with his index and middle fingertip, "I think you look fine, just the way you are."
Belle had frozen underneath his touch, her eyes unable to look away from his. She refrained from biting her lip, but could not stop the warm feeling that coursed through her system, brought on by his flesh upon hers. It was an intimate gesture; something she had not expected from a heartless pirate, and she was not sure whether he was doing it because he meant it, or because he was using this power of his to his advantage. She could not let him know how she reacted underneath his touch. She would not allow herself to be vulnerable again.
"Plus, I hear the father, Master Rochester, has a wandering eye," he said in a somewhat flat voice, dropping his hand back into his lap and resuming a safe distance between the two of them. "And what better means of seduction than a young, pretty woman with her goods practically hanging out." He gestured at her chest, immediately causing Belle to cross her arms and glare at him.
"My goods are not going to be used as a method of seduction!" she all but yelped, her cheeks turning that delightful, frustrated shade of red she detested and he probably enjoyed. "Wait," she murmured, her long index finger on her cheek. "Did you say I would be used to seduce Master Rochester? Did you say he has a wandering eye?" She crossed her arms, once again, over her chest, and looked away from him in indignation. "That is hardly believable, Captain Donovan."
"Why would you say that?" he asked, before chuckling.
"Why," she said, her guarded eyes revealing her thoughtfulness. "Why, because he's married to Madame Rochester, of course."
"And you think a husband cannot take on a mistress because he is married?" Donovan asked her, tilting his head to the side.
"Not this one," she defended, but even she did not seem too sure.
"I thought you knew nothing of the Rochesters," he pointed out.
"Of course I know about the Rochesters," she snapped, and then sighed. "I just always heard they were happy together, is all."
"It's the happy ones you have to question," Donovan told her, and there seemed to be a touch of sincerity in his tone. Now it was Belle's turn to turn and look at him. There was a sadness in his dark eyes, but it was gone in a hot moment, and Belle thought she had misinterpreted what she had seen. "You can never tell with the happy ones. It's the ones that constantly fight where one can tell they are in love."
Belle looked at him with her arched brow. "And what makes you say that?" she asked.
"Because even though they constantly fight, they're still together aren't they? Fighting just relieves tension, which is usually sexual. It reinstates the chemistry that attracted them together in the first place; the passion they still feel for each other."
"It would seem that makes sense," Belle said after a long moment, and then looked out the small window. They were nearing the docks of Port Royal. Of course they would have the anchor the ship a few feet away because of its grand size, and she was thankful she would not have to row that damn boat to the docks. The winds had been with them; it took them about a day and a half to reach their destination instead of the usual three.
"'Course it does," Donovan said, nodding and grinning.
"What else do you know of the Rochesters?" she asked him suddenly, turning her head sharply so she looked at him once again. "I just do not want to… mess up this mission because of my ignorance."
She knew he did not believe her reasoning, but was relieved when answered anyways. "Well, the younger daughter, Brylee, I believe is engaged to be married when she turns one-and-twenty, which, to me, is quite old for a wealthy family, don't you think?" he told her.
Belle ignored Donovan's question, completely disturbed at the fact that Brylee was engaged. Her twenty-first birthday was not that far away, truth be told. She was born on the twenty-fifth of February, and currently it was the seventh of October. In fact, Belle would be celebrating her twenty-third birthday on the thirtieth of November before Brylee celebrated her own.
"Brylee is engaged?" she asked in disbelief. "Do you know to whom?"
Donovan's features darkened remarkably as he all but spat, "Dustin Commack, the new Commodore of Port Royal's Royal Navy."
"What?" Belle all but yelped. This was definitely not good, and it took everything in her power to build up the walls that so easily guarded her heart. She had to save her sister from that marriage, not matter what, and only hoped Commack had not done to Brylee what he had done to her. Tears began forming, waiting to jump off the edges of her eyes, but she held them at bay. If she had known the consequences of her actions then, she would never have run away in the first place.
"Yes, well," the captain said softly, obviously noticing Belle's strong reaction but deciding to ignore it for now. "Apparently he was engaged to the older sister before she disappeared. The family had seemed to have arranged a generous deal in their favor, and did not want it to go to waste, so they offered him their second daughter."
"That is…" Belle tried to find the correct word, but could only come up with, "unthinkable."
"Actually, it is quite common in the upper class," he remarked dryly, obviously disagreeing with the whole arranged marriage situation. "However, they offered a mighty hefty sum for the return of their first daughter. Seems the good ol' Commodore prefers her 'stead of Brylee. I, myself, have been keeping a sharp eye out for the broad; it would be much easier turning over someone than thinking of a grand scheme to pillage a household."
Belle felt her blood run cold at her words, and she had to remind herself that he had no idea who she really was. "Maybe she ran away for a reason…?" she tried, in an oddly quiet voice.
Donovan's eyes flashed to hers, looking as if the idea was preposterous. "If I know my upper class," he said, and she could hear the venom entwining with his tone, "which I do, the reason the girl ran off is because she was damaged goods and was too ashamed to admit it to anyone. What husband would have her if she was, hmm? Bloody stupid, if you ask me."
"I didn't," Belle said quietly. She kept her face as passive as she possibly could, despite feeling her insides rip apart at Donovan’s heated tirade. Even a pirate captain would not have someone who was tainted, impure, or, as he so delicately put it, damaged goods. That was what she was, and that was what she would always be. Maybe there was no hope for her, but she could save Brylee. She had to save Brylee from her impending nuptials, even if it meant turning herself over to her family… even if it meant marrying Commack, she would do it.
A knock on the door interrupted their strained silence, and Rick popped in. "Ready to anchor, captain," he said seriously.
Donovan nodded. "Ready the boat," he ordered. "We will be out there in a moment."
Rick nodded, and closed the door behind him.
10
"While we wait to anchor," Donovan said, standing up and glancing down her, "maybe we should get our stories straight so we do not fumble whilst at dinner with the Rochesters, hmm?" He raised his brow and a slow smile slid on his face that revealed she had no option in the matter, but he was offering to be nice… at least somewhat.
Belle regarded him with one of her dry looks, a look he seemed inclined to furrow his brow at, and to which he did just that. Instead of one of the sarcastic comments he was beginning to expect the more he came to know her, an amused grin eclipsed her face and she let out a quiet chuckle.
"Do you know that you look oddly adorable when you do that, Captain Donovan?" she asked, her voice taking on a happy tone such that it sounded almost melodious. Her murky eyes lit up, flashing almos
t emerald, and the corners of her lips were still curled up in happiness. It took her a moment for her to realize what she had actually said – aloud, as a matter of fact – and she glanced at her folded hands in her lap as a blush began to cascade on her delicate features.
"And you, my doll, are oddly adorable when you do that," he teased, although the comment was actually honest, and he flashed her one of her boyish grins that she was beginning to grow rather fond of. "Anyways," he began, "we are a happily married couple who have been together for, hmm, about five years now and are thinking of moving from England to a nice place on Caribbean. I have taken the liberty of sending a request to dine with them a few days past so they should be expecting us."
"How did we meet?" Belle asked suddenly, looking up at him with imploring eyes. Her fingers began to twist and prod at each other, an obvious sign of her nervousness.
Again, he furrowed his brow. "Why should we work that one out?" he asked. From his tone, she knew he was not trying to be rude, but honestly curious to hear her answer.
Belle knew her mother, and God forbid it, but if she was recognized, she needed to make sure everything between Donovan sounded and looked real. "Well, I mean I'm not sure about Missus Rochester, but, you see, my mother, whenever a new couple dined with her - with us, really - she would always inquire as to the back story," she explained. "She always wanted to learn more about… about the people she was dining with. Very friendly, she was."
Belle did not realize how much she missed her mother until right then at that moment. Donovan hesitated a moment, but decided to sit down beside her. He decided not to touch her just yet, remembering her tense posture at his touch, but he cocked his head towards her.
"You… lost your mother, I take it?" he guessed in his low, gentle voice, looking, as she was, at her folded hands.
"No," she responded, just as tired, shaking her head very slightly. "I…" She paused, but decided revealing a fraction of her past wasn't going to hurt, or at least, she hoped that it would not. "I ran away from home when I was younger."
This caused Donovan to pause, and millions of questions burst through his mind, the desire to learn more about this mysterious young barmaid increasing. However, he recognized the tone she had used; as of right now, she was not willing to discuss it, and he should be thankful that she had replied honestly at all. Instead, he nodded to her previous suggestion.
"Good point," he told her. "So… how did we meet then, dear?"
Belle frowned at the endearment, but her lips curled up and he soon saw the sparkle reclaim its rightful position in her eyes. Pursing her lips, the young woman glanced up and her eyes drifted towards the window and gazed at the sea.
"When I ran away," she said, a fond smile touching her lips at voicing her fantasies without mentioning that they were fantasies, "you happened to catch me stowing away on your ship. However, instead of killing me or dropping me off at a random port, you fell in love with me and asked me to sail with you, and I accepted."
"You've been thinking about this a bit haven't you?" he asked her, an amused twinkle in those dark eyes of his. "And are you, pray tell, in love with me as well?"
"Oh yes," she responded, nodding enthusiastically. "However, I am less… err, confident about my feelings because I do not believe that sailors are capable of falling in love."
"So I say the three words first then?" he guessed, cocking a brow.
Again, she nodded. "But I am unsure if you are being honest or not," she continued to explain. "See, you have a wicked reputation back in England, and you are quite the charmer, so I am not quite sure whether or not your intentions are honorable or whether you want to get me in bed with you."
He chuckled at this, and Belle glanced up at him, smiling as well. "So then," he said, leaning towards her so that when he spoke, his hot breath encompassed her flesh, "how do I persuade you that I am honorable?"
"Why," Belle said, almost as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, "you kiss me, of course." Donovan raised his brow at this, but he was silent, waiting to hear what more she had to say. "At first, I resist, letting you kiss me, but then I begin to kiss you back, and it is the purest, truest thing I have ever felt. That is how you persuade me."
"I am quite brilliant then, aren't I?" he murmured.
"Quite," she agreed.
"Why do you love me, then?" he asked, a teasing smile on his face. "Why do I give up my reign over my ship, the sea, for you?"
Belle looked up at him with wide eyes, unable to fully comprehend what he had just asked of her. "You don't." Again, it was quick, and it was said in that tone of hers where she was indirectly chastising him for not knowing the correct answer. "While I love you for your courage and kindness, you love me because I would never make you give up something so precious to you. Instead, I choose to join you on your adventures."
Donovan forced that arrogant grin of his back on his angular face and asked, "And the fact that you are absolutely beautiful did nothing to persuade my heart in your favor?"
"No," she replied, a smooth blush tainting her cheeks, but her words were rather firm. She lifted her gaze from her hands and managed to lock her eyes with him. "Lust is loving what is on the outside; love, however, is lusting for what is on the inside. And you, my dear though temporary husband, love everything I am and everything I aspire to be."
He nodded in agreement. "That I do, love," he told her deeply. "That I do."
Another knock on the door revealed to the two Rick's presence. "Boat's all ready, sir," he said, opening the door and popping his head inside.
He nodded and stood, while Belle followed suit. Silently, the pirate captain led her out the door and to then side of his beloved ship. Belle paused for a moment, wordlessly gazing at the land that had once been so far from her thoughts, and now seemed to be looming ever closer. The land looked the same. The streets were bustling with people of all classes: beggars, merchants, and the wives of the wealthy, shopping for a dress to add to their wardrobe. Boats were entering and departing from the docks, either excited to leave or excited to arrive. The young woman frowned thoughtfully; she also didn't realize how much she had missed her home.
"Port Royal," a voice drawled beside her. "Isn't as scary as it looks."
Belle rolled her eyes at Rick's comment, and then arched her brow. "I know that," she told him. "I've been here before."
Rick looked at her doubtfully, but before he could comment, Donovan swiftly intervened. "Are you ready, then?" he asked Belle. "You remember everything; you are not nervous; you know what you're in for?"
She nodded, and then, drawled under her breath, "I, Captain Donovan, know exactly what I'm in for. However, I do not believe you are on the same page as I am."
11
The boat ride to the docks was rather silent. Belle was currently trying to calm the unnerving foreboding her heart was telling her with its incessant beating, but was failing miserably. Donovan was rowing and smoking simultaneously, the rich scent drifting behind him due to the breeze. Belle was rather happy for that, because if it muffled her breathing in any way, she would have snapped at him, her nerves already on edge. Instead, she decided to scrutinize him from her peripheral, merely watching him as he rowed. The darks of his eyes twinkled in desire, probably because his lips were formed around the dark brown rolled tobacco. She found the man sitting across from her oddly handsome as he enjoyed his smoke. Despite her blatant dislike of tobacco in any form, she found the man sitting across from her oddly sexually appealing. Immediately, a blush cascaded down her cheeks, but she did not deny her observation. There was something dangerous about a man smoking, and she found her attraction to him only increasing, something she was not exactly relishing in.
Once the small boat was in the harbor, Donovan took hold of a line of rope, looping it over a wooden post. After making sure the boat was secure, he gracefully walked onto the deck, and then turned so he could offer his assistance to his wife. While their feet were on Port Royal, they were
married. For a moment, Belle looked like she was going to make her way next to him, stubbornly refusing his act of chivalry, but she stopped. He recognized some sort of flash of recognition, of remembrance of why they were here in the first place, and she seemed to tilt her head down – her way of acknowledgment.
With ease, she slipped her hand into his and allowed him to help her out of the boat and onto the docks. His hands were as expected – rough and callused, but also they were warm and made her feel safe. Belle looked up at him adoringly, slipping with ease into the role of doting wife, and slipped her arm through Donovan's – Aaron’s, now, since they were on a first-name basis – offered one. He grinned down at her before the two began to make their way along the rather short, wooden plank.
As expected, a dock master stopped the couple, surveying them. His light green eyes looked at Aaron briefly, accepting that the younger man was some sort of upper class man, before turning his attention to the woman he assumed was the man's wife. He crinkled his brow, the woman oddly familiar to him.
"Excuse me, miss," he started, after Aaron had paid him and gave them the fake surname of Donald. Belle stopped, her brow arching up, though not in a mocking manner. "Do I know you? You have a familiar face, if you don't mind me saying."
Belle froze, her heart resuming its hesitant beats, before a smooth smile slid onto her face. "I do not mind," she told him warmly. "In fact, it would seem I hear that a lot." She chuckled as she glanced up at Aaron. "My husband does not know what to do with me!"
The man chuckled along with the couple, and then apologized. "My apologies, ma’am," he told her.
"Quite all right," Belle said, and with that, Aaron began to lead his betrothed to a carriage that appeared to be waiting for them.
Belle did not recognize the driver, but she did recognize the horses. Her family must have sent the carriage then. So it was true; they really were expecting them. Well, maybe not her, per se.
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