You have finally left the festival. The carriage takes you to the house and Cutler offers you his hand to help you out. “Did you use the party for your networking?” You ask when you go inside. "Of course. Your father had some good connections. It would be unwise not to keep it going.” You smile. How could it have been otherwise?
You patiently pluck every hair ornament out of your hair. You are already happy that you were able to get rid of your dress and corset and you are now sitting in front of the dressing table in you underdress.
You pull out the last hairpin and watch Cutler through the mirror. He's just taking off his coat and then untying his vest. “What are you thinking of?” He asks you without looking up from the buttons. He could literally feel your gaze.
Caught you turn around on the chair to face him. You hesitate with the answer, but you want to be honest:
"Wedding night." He stops moving while you wait for a reaction.
"Oh." He managed to pull off his vest. "Mhm ...." you only do affirmative.
This marriage was based on other foundations. On benefit. But should they behave like that completely? As a business partner, without any aspect of a marriage. He isn't suprised about your thoughts.
Cutler turns to you and looks at you. He's thinking. You're still waiting for a reaction other than the Oh. The tension on this sensitive topic makes you breathe deeper and faster.
"Do you want to…?" He asks slowly and steps closer. With a selfish man like him. Which married her only for her trading company, for the EITC. You swallow. He didn't have to hear it. He could read your body language clearly enough.
His eyes turn away from you briefly before he leans down and kisses you. He slowly pulls you up from the chair by the hand and closer to him. When your lips touched it added to the excitement. Cutler ends the kiss and takes off the last piece of dress.
In your perfect bloom, as God created you, you stand before him and blush at the thought. But he doesn't take his eyes off your face.
Your hands grip his shirt. While his fingers, gently from the thigh, stroked the hips and up the sides. A shiver runs through your body.
Ultimately, he takes you in his arms and carries you the last few steps to bed. He lets you sink gently and leans next to you. Now he could look at your body and admire it. The flawless skin, scarred only in the rarest places.
He kisses you again while his hands explore your body and slowly caress your breasts down to your center. Your hand found the back of his neck in time. You can feel his fingers getting closer and closer to your genital area. Over the clitoris and the labia.
He slowly pushes his index and middle fingers into you, one behind the other. The heel of the palm is resting on the upper area. He felt your warm inside. How it got wetter with his movements.
So, he deepens the kiss and lets his tongue play with yours. An almost relieved gasp emanated from him.
The Swann Matriarch glances to the paper that inexplicably ended up in her hands. Another note. Without a signee. Like before. Like a harbinger of demise.
Over the course of this head to head war with a certain Lord Cutler Beckett, the more this felt like an intricate battle of chess, as the East India Trading Company continued to take more of the Swann’s pieces, and Margaret herself - the white Queen - did everything in her power to protect those on the Swann’s side, most importantly her beloved husband and daughter… even if it meant treason, and ultimately her own demise. Even if it meant giving and earning trust in her very Enemy’s most trusted assassin.
The King could only be her loathsome adversary Beckett… but who was the Rook? And why would that pose a threat to her?
She pondered. Admiral Norrington & Elizabeth were Knights. Eleanor could be Bishop… Captain Sparrow was his own wildcard… then that left…
The chess move Castling. With King & Rook.
The rook would be none other than Mr. Ian Mercer.
The paper slid through Margaret’s fingers and fell at her feet as she grasped onto something to steady her nerves.
No… it cannot be!
No, Beckett could not have found out how Margaret had slowly gained Mr. Mercer’s trust, and even his own aid to the Swanns while still under the guise of being Beckett’s most trusted.
No, No, Ian, they cannot! Not now, when we… when I need you most! please be safe!
With eyes that burned as embers Margaret picket up the paper and dropped it into the scorching evening fireplace.
She had to notify Weatherby. Moreso she would have to be clever, one mistake and their side of the chessboard would be at a grave disadvantage. But one thing was sure.
Margaret Swann would have to discreetly enter the enemy’s side of the chess board.
@itslordnow asked: "What's on your mind?" (itslordnow)
affectionate prompts / accepting
“ hmmm ? ” it took a while before his words sank in, her mind occupied with so many a thing and then some daydreams that she’d almost not heard her brother at all. “ -oh, sorry, brother. i fear i was not entirely here for a moment. ” more like the entire morning so far. it happened sometimes when many things happened all at once. now they tended to be only good things but it remained just as overwhelming and thus it led her to be prone to daydreaming and getting lost in her own thoughts. she must be absolutely dreadful company to him in a state like this, which made her feel somewhat guilty. “ it is nothing, just some silly daydreaming. i suppose i’ve grown entirely comfortable with the house to be doing so. ”
Beckett had Mercer deliver a package to Jack. The package consists of a bottle of rum, soap, shirt, and numerous desserts. On the side of the package is his initials. (itslordnow)
He considers throwing it all out, but he can't do that to good rum or food. It won't be poisoned, else Beckett wouldn't bother signing it. Instead, Jack decides to burn the packaging with a candle to afford some manner of balance in accepting it.
Now as then, Aleera so enjoyed making men feel weaker. She so enjoyed pinning a man that was accustomed to always having his way, was always the one in charge. It was a most amusing thing to shake a man and he was no different. It was his mannerisms, his desire to always be in control that always brought about such a playful nature as she pinned him against the wall. Lithe body pressed flush against his as lips parted, as she stole and deepened a kiss before parting once more.
