The Accidental Seduction of Edward Teach by Stede Bonnet, Gentleman Pirate

Chapter 14 - Marmalade

Stede didn't come back that night. Or the next morning. Or by the time Roach was serving up fish stew for lunch.

Said stew was left outside Ed's door. He didn't touch it, but he did open the door long enough to retrieve a jar of marmalade.

Ed dug through the closet until he found Stede's dressing gown, a floral fuschia velvet cloak that felt heavy across his shoulders and still smelled like Stede's cologne. He pressed the edge of it to his face, inhaled, and recalled the memory of that first kiss on hot stones on a deserted island. The memory was so vivid that he could almost taste it.

For a moment, he wished the crew had never returned for them. He let himself sink into that memory.

But then a breeze pushed through an open porthole and brushed across his cheek. He opened his eyes and took in the dark, empty cabin. He hadn't lit a lantern or a fire since he returned, and most of the curtains were drawn.

He dug a silver spoon out and then into the jar of marmalade and stuck a heaping teaspoon of orange and sugar into his mouth. It was sticky, sweet and tangy, and oddly comforting.

Ed took another bite and rolled the marmalade around in his mouth, breaking up the chunks of fruit, letting the pectin coat the inside of his mouth, letting bits of candied peel snag in his teeth. He pulled the spoon out of his mouth and went to set the jar down.

When he did, he missed the edge by just a smidge, causing the jar to topple onto the deck and crack open in a gooey mess. Ed spun around to get out of the way. The robe caught on the handle of a drawer, tugged him hard, and then ripped.

Something about the indignity of that moment caused his frustration to bubble over. He started breathing heavily, body hunched. He turned to the sideboard, which held Stede's tea set and was framed by a rough mirror.

He locked dark eyes on his own reflection and saw a once-fearsome man hunched in pain and heartbreak, his breath ragged and barely contained, dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, his beard shorn back to an unremarkable length.

Suddenly, on impulse, Ed reached out and grabbed Stede's favourite teacup. He held the ornately decorated peacock cup only for a moment before throwing it against the wall where it shattered into a thousand pieces. He then picked up his own teacup - black with gold florals, and hurled it at the same spot.

The shattered remnants of both cups mingled together in a cloud of shards.

Then Ed started to look for other things to smash. Figurines. Books to rip pages from. Fabric to tear. More dishes to add to the broken shards littering the cabin.

And as he rampaged, Ed heard voices in his head.

Useless whelp of a boy.

Half-breed.

Leather-clad middle-aged sad sack.

Abomination under God for carnal desires towards his own sex.

Whore.

A blight upon mankind.

Filthy degenerate and a waste of breath.

Murderer.

Ed destroyed another element of the cabin with every dark word that surfaced in his memory. He swung the fireplace poker around to stab in the eye of a wooden cherub that detailed the trim. He upended the heavy oak dining table and sent silverware cascading across the deck.

He turned with the poker in hand, ready to tear and rip a baby blue frock coat that hung just outside Stede's secret closet. As he reached for it, he heard a voice unlike the others.