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by Hereswith He saw her dance and it brought him up short. She brought him up short, with the elegant curve of her neck and the slight sway of her body as she moved in time with the music. She was beautiful, alike to Diana, the Virgin Huntress, and so vibrant with life that she put all the pale, insipid ladies of Port Royal to shame. It astounded him that he had been so blind, so oblivious to the changes in her that, judging by the flock of ardent admirers, no one else had failed to see. But he remembered the girl, freckled and as fierce of heart as a boy, and the image of that inquisitive child had somehow eclipsed the image of the woman. It was a mistake he would take care not to repeat, for he had come to understand now how much it had cost him. “Radiant, isn’t she? She grows more like her mother every day.” Reluctantly, James took his eyes off one Swann so as to confront the other and offered a sharp bow in greeting. “Governor.” “Captain Norrington,” came the mild reply and the Governor of Jamaica stepped forward to stand beside him. “The evening has been pleasant, I hope?” “With as gracious a hostess as Lady Hatherley, how could it possibly be anything less?” “True,” Governor Swann agreed. “But I suspect you would have preferred to have spent it on the deck of the Dauntless, would you not?” “I’m a naval officer, Governor,” James answered, with a noncommittal shrug. “First and foremost.” “Your dedication is admirable, Captain Norrington,” the Governor said, and the gentle, guileless smile that touched his kindly features would have fooled a less observant man. “Yet I cannot help but wonder—might not a fine woman sometimes match, or even surpass, a fine ship, no matter the vessel?” James’ shoulders tensed at the question. It was too close to the mark for his liking, too eerie an echo of his own, most private thoughts, but he had known Weatherby Swann long enough to not be truly offended. “Perhaps.” The music stopped, a few delicate notes briefly lingering in the air before they too died out, giving way to a clatter of voices. A glance across the ballroom told him that Elizabeth was being escorted back to her seat. She seemed deep in conversation with her partner and the lad, for he was hardly more than that, said something that James could not hear from this distance, but whatever it was, it made her laugh. Governor Swann cleared his throat. “Let us speak plainly, Captain,” he pressed on. “Elizabeth has always held you in high regard and in light of the circumstances—I do not think she would refuse you.” “You would see her marry a Commodore, then?” “It is my belief,” the older man responded, “that this particular Commodore would make my daughter an excellent husband.” James started, not having expected such candour. “You honour me, Governor.” He put his hands behind his back, breathing deeply. “I will consider it.” The Governor nodded. “Of course.” “Governor Swann!” Both men turned as one and James arched a brow at the sight of the tiny, yellow clad woman that was hurrying towards them. “Lady Hatherley has need of you, it seems,” he remarked. “Ah, yes,” Governor Swann said, frowning, “and it would appear to be urgent.” She halted in front of them, fluttering her fan rather vigorously to cool her face. “Captain Norrington—you don’t mind if I borrow the Governor for a moment, do you? There is someone he simply must meet!” “I shall endeavour to bear the loss with fortitude, Lady Hatherley,” James assured her, voice tinged with amusement. “Though I would have thought you had run out of suitable candidates by now.” “Fie on you!” Lady Hatherley chuckled, closing the fan with a snap and then swatting him lightly with it. “I’ll have you know that Mrs. Weston and her son arrived in Port Royal a mere week ago. And she’s perfectly charming.” The last she addressed to the Governor and she proceeded to tuck her arm through his, thus entrapping him. “Shall we?” “Very well.” Governor Swann inclined his head at James, his expression somewhat rueful. “Captain.” As soon as he was alone again, James let his attention drift back to Elizabeth. A firm resolve had settled into him and, for once in his life, he found himself planning a course of action that had very little to do with promotions or pirates or the tactics of battle. It was a course far different from any he had previously attempted, but he felt certain it would be just as challenging. She looked up, suddenly, as if aware of his scrutiny and her gaze met his. Most young ladies of his acquaintance would have hastened to cast their eyes downward in a show of bashful modesty. Not so Elizabeth Swann, though her cheeks reddened and her smile half faded. Something leaped in his chest, bright and choking, and it was not quite longing, but it might have been anticipation. A fine woman, indeed. Author's Note: Written as a Secret Santa fic for Eledhwen. | ||||||