Chapter III

The first rays of morning shone through the window, gilding the curved silhouette of the woman who lay beside him. Through sleepy lids James watched her, his eyes roaming her fair form. She lay on her side with her back to him, and by the gentle rise and fall of her torso he knew she still slept. Her long hair was like a river of gold in the sunlight, almost blinding.

He had to touch her.

With fingers light as a feather he traced the curve of her shoulder and the valley of her waist, the rise of her hip and the length of her thigh. Back his hand travelled, hungry for the feel of her once more, retracing his path with devotion. Every day was like seeing her anew; always he was astounded by how beautiful she was, and what that did to him.

His touch travelled higher still, tracing the curve of her throat, the line of her cheek and the delicate shell of her ear. She shuddered under his touch, smiling a little in her sleep. As he stroked her hair she stirred, and slowly turned onto her back. When she opened her eyes James felt as though he could see his whole world within them.

"Hello there," he said with a gentle smile.

She smiled sleepily, closing her eyes once more as he toyed with her hair, leaning into his touch. "Hello."

James continued to trace her lovely lines, and she purred and writhed beneath his fingers, his gentle persistence driving her mad. Gooseflesh raised upon her skin, a fire kindling deep in her belly. Her every nerve stood at attention, and she thought she finally understood what it was she wanted from James. What she needed.

She reached for him, pulling him down into a kiss. "James," she whispered. "I think I am ready."

He paused a moment, before breathing a sigh, his long arms pulling her closer.

"I am relieved," he admitted with his forehead pressed to hers, a hint of humorous self-deprecation in his tone.

"Is this how it has been for you?" she asked, feeling bold as she arched into his large hand that spanned her entire abdomen. "This fire, that feels like it will eat me alive if you don't touch me?"

James nodded, pressing a kiss to her throat. "Something similar, no doubt." His hand moved to her hip, pulling her against him. She could feel the evidence of his desire pressing against her, that part of him that she had explored in their cabin as she thought he slept.

"Since we married?" she asked, perhaps naively. It won a chuckle from her husband, a low rumble against the skin of her collarbone that sent a thrill down her spine.

"Longer than that. Many a voyage, battle and storm, the thought of seeing you again was what saw me through."

"Oh James," she sighed, not without sympathy, sliding her fingers through his short brown hair. "Was I cruel?" she whispered, very afraid of the answer. "I did not know. I did not understand..."

"Hush, darling," he soothed her, kissing the base of her throat. "It's alright. There is a time and place for everything, yes? And now…this moment belongs to us."

His hand strayed down the length of her thigh, and she could only moan in answer. "Yes."

When he began to pull her shift up, the diaphanous silk sliding against her skin, she placed her hand over his, a hint of the old trepidation showing through. "May I see you first?" she asked, the thought of laying naked before him in the bright sunlight while he was still dressed extremely mortifying.

But James, patient steady James, only nodded with an understanding smile, completely willing to surrender the upper hand. He divested himself of his nightshirt, and with parted lips Elizabeth stared, her embarrassment dissolving into curiosity—and awe. Of their own accord her hands reached out to touch him, tracing his bare chest and abdomen, the curve of his hip, and…

James sighed, his eyes fluttering closed with her hand upon his swollen manhood. He groaned as she explored him, and then Elizabeth discovered a new emotion to associate with what was done by men and women between the sheets: power. James saw it too upon her fine features, and smirked a little to himself. Lizzy liked to be in charge—but so did he, and so he pulled her closer, finding her lips with his.

"May I?" he asked, beginning to draw her nightgown up once more, praying the answer would finally be yes.

This time, she surrendered.

James stared down at her now naked form with such a mixture of hunger and tenderness. "Had you lived in the same time as Helen of Troy, she would have wept with jealousy," he informed her, kissing her lips and chin. "My God, you are beautiful."

"You flatter me."

"I only make truthful observations, my love."

Elizabeth glanced at the bruise across her ribs, courtesy of her earlier collision. "I fear the tree left its mark upon me."

James frowned as he traced the bruise with gentle fingers. "I still wouldn't mind seeing that rascal of a horse made into filet chevalin," he admitted darkly.

Elizabeth laughed a little. "Poor horse. No, James, I am fine. I swear, I am better than fine now." Her insatiable hands reached for him, unable to stop tracing the curves of his muscles and the ridges of his scars. She forgot everything that she'd been told about this moment by the prissy old matrons of Port Royal, who took it upon themselves to inform her about the connubial bed as Elizabeth had no mother, poor thing. She forgot that she was not supposed to enjoy it, and that it was just a duty, and she should close her eyes and wait for it to be over. Somehow only now did the extent of her good fortune in marriage sink in; James was hers, all hers, and she intended to enjoy him to the fullest.

However, she did close her eyes. She could hardly keep them open, for James' touch upon her body was the purest bliss she'd ever known. When at last his hand dipped between her legs she gave a cry muffled against his shoulder, her hands locked upon him. He knew it was not a sound of pain, and so he chuckled, entranced by her youthful ardor. The way she said his name when he circled his fingers just so, the way she begged… He would be lucky to last ten seconds, when the time came.

The evidence of her arousal, moisture slick upon her thighs, drove James mad. "Please," she insisted, tugging upon him, unschooled but so willing. "I'm ready. Please, James."

But he intended to see to her pleasure first, because he knew this first union between them would hurt her, how much he did not really know. "Not yet, sweetheart," he told her, winning a frustrated mewl that caused him to smile. She did not yet quite understand what her body was capable of, he reckoned. The vessel for pleasure that she could become. He kissed his way down her neck and chest, taking a pretty pink nipple into his mouth. It was possible that the sounds she made could be heard all across the house, and he whispered, "Shhhh," against the flesh of her belly, even though he loved to hear them.

"You are trying to kill me," she pouted, and he found amusement in his own thoughts of earlier echoed back at him.

"No, no. Just…" He did not finish his sentence, for his mouth descended upon her sex, his tongue tracing the pink pearl of her pretty oyster. She forgot herself again, crying out and throwing back her head. It was such an entrancing sight James could not scold her, only devour her, little by little, until she shook with an eruption of pleasure beneath him. She shuddered as he kissed the last little tremors from between her legs, until she squirmed with pleadings of "Mercy! No more!"She said all this with a smile, gilded with sweat, her golden hair curling at her temples. "Oh darling."

It was all she could muster, and she reached for him, uncertain and yet absolutely knowing what must come next. "It will hurt," he warned her, his arms wrapping about her shoulders. "Just this first time. I am sorry, I never want to cause you pain. I wish…"

"It's alright, James," she soothed him, rolling her hips against his. She was so intrigued by the feel of him, so strange and new and wonderful. She teased herself with the tip of his cock, sliding up and down in a way that that was almost unbearable it felt so good. Then he shifted lower, hovering at her entrance and she sighed, grazing his shoulder with her teeth as she waited, wanting.

"I love you," she whispered, and those sacred words crashed through him like a tsunami. Those words, those words he had longed to hear for more time than he could honestly remember. He'd made a gamble at the altar with this woman, praying that someday she would return his affections. The sweet victory of this moment filled him with an indescribable elation. He groaned with pleasure and relief, his lips finding hers with renewed ardor.

"Elizabeth," he whispered, sitting up on elbows so that he could see her eyes. "My sweet, sweet Elizabeth." Though the vows at the altar had bound them, he found that only just now did he finally feel that she was truly and completely his.

Somehow that hallowed oath seemed to be the last vestige of permission he required. Slowly he rocked his hips, pressing inside her, trembling with the bliss that was her hot sheath tight around him and the magic of this physical expression of their love.

It hurt.

He had not lied, and yet Elizabeth did not shrink from the pain, welcoming it, knowing it could not last, knowing it made her his in every way. She had a high tolerance for pain, true, but also in that moment she felt simply invincible. When sheathed completely within her James paused, mercifully letting her adjust to this new sensation.

"Are you alright?" he asked, the worry in his voice extremely endearing. She smiled, kissing the soft skin behind his ear.

"Quite."

They must look ridiculous, she thought to herself with a smile, and yet the thought of watching James as he made love to her inspired a surprising bolt of titillation to spear her aching loins. Curious, she turned to gaze at the mirror of the vanity, and there they were: his long body stretched out atop hers, muscled and lean, and fitted so perfectly between her thighs.

It wasn't ridiculous, she decided.

They were breathtaking.

Noticing her distraction, James followed her gaze across the room, and was startled to see their reflection, their bodies tangled in nature's most intimate embrace. It was not proper to look at such a thing, of course, and yet a new heat ambushed him that had nothing to do with embarrassment. He turned back to look down at Elizabeth, finding her biting her lower lip with that glint of mischief in her coffee-colored eyes. God, how he loved that look. In so many ways, Elizabeth's courage and zest for life set him free.

It was she who began to move first, finding that the ache in her newly christened woman's body was nothing compared to the sweetness of holding James inside her, of making him gasp and pant and groan into the bend of her neck like so. She liked to nip at his powerful shoulders, tracing a scar left by a Spanish halberd with the tip of her tongue.

"Oh Elizabeth," he panted, moving faster, and she strained to meet him, to find their rhythm together. She discovered that when she tilted her hips just so, allowing the perfect angle of contact between them…oh, the sensations were blinding. Her hands upon his body seemed the only thing that grounded her to this Earth, and she slid her hands down the curve of his long torso, gripping his hips to guide him. Something deep inside her seemed to already know the steps to this dance, even as her higher-self watched this pleasure unfold with curious mystification.

James observed her carefully, slowing to her pace and matching the roll of her hips, tuned with her rhythm and her grasping hands as though they were upon the dancefloor. The feel of her coming with his cock buried inside her, tight walls of her sex clenching him like a fist, proved his undoing. As she arched beneath him with a cry James spilled himself deep inside her, his body shuddering with the most intense pleasure he'd ever known.

If the house had not yet roused, it was certainly awake now.

They lay in a tangle of limbs, unable to move except to exchange languid kisses and lazy smiles. Elizabeth flinched a little as James withdrew, the ache sharper now that she was not distracted with carnal abandon. "Are you alright?" he asked for the second time that morning, rolling to his back and pulling her into his arms.

"More than alright," she assured him with a sleepy smile, fitting her head into that dip in his shoulder that seemed it was molded just for her. "I love you, James."

James pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, and she marveled how so small a physical gesture could contain all his love. "And I love you, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth decided it was a phrase she would not tire of hearing for the rest of her days. She had thought her days of excitement long over when she married James Norrington, but now she could see that their adventures were only just beginning.

A/n: ::fans self:: Well, I enjoyed that. Did you? haha. Love to hear your feedback, dear readers! I promise I don't bite hard! ;)