Norrington's Darling

James

POV: Zuri Norrington

Sky dark as pitch, the only light coming from the home of Captain Norrington was a single candle burning by the open window. Two floors above the street, passersby would have been able to hear the soft and comforting voice that read to the only other occupant of the room. Yet the house was not on a public street; the only sounds coming from Port Royal were the muted and faraway sounds from taverns and pubs. 

Laying with my eyes closed, I listened to James as he read Shakespeare to me, his sweet voice a wonderful serenade. He sat in a chair by the window, a cool sea breeze drifting over me. I'd shut my eyes to keep out the candlelight James read by, instead letting his voice be the only thing I concentrated on.

James faltered several pages into act two of Coriolanus. As the story faded away, I could hear rustling as he put the book down. Moments later, his bed dipped as he settled onto the edge. His hand brushed over my face, pushing hair behind my ear.

"Are you awake, Zuri?"

"Mmhmm," I hummed, lifting my arm to his leg. "I'm awake."

"Would you like me to keep reading?"

At last I opened my eyes. He'd brought the candle with him, placing it on the low table a few feet from his bed; the flickering light cast one half of his face in shadow, the other in ghostly orange light.

"Come to bed," I murmured, tugging at his shirt sleeve. 

"Just a moment, dear," he said. James stood and opened the door to his bedroom. He motioned for me to roll over. I closed my eyes and rolled from my side to my back. He undressed behind the door. When he returned, he wore only breeches—a different pair from before. He slipped under the covers, pulling me with him. He pulled my back to his chest and held me that way for almost all the night. When we woke up, we'd each sprawled away from each other, touching only by our hands.

Metal screeched as our swords crossed, both of us pushing to gain the upper hand. Normally I bested my opponents. But James was good. In fact, he was one of the best swordsmen I had ever crossed blades with.

I broke away, pulling my blade away from James and dancing out of reach. He chased after me, his blade slicing at the air I had been seconds before. 

Our dance with swords was an exhilarating one. It was the most fun I'd had in weeks. Jack was no swordsman like James.

My forearms burned as I pushed James's sword back, away from my shoulder. He twisted last minute, forcing me to stumble back lest I get sliced in half by his sword. The movement caught me off balance, pushing me into the defensive. Narrowly I stopped James' attack. I parried, driving his blade away from me. I twisted, performing a maneuver I had invented and perfected. It always worked.

Not this time.

When my blade came down, James was gone. And then his arm tugged against my waist, pulling me flush to his body, the point of his sword leveled at my throat.

Warm breath ghosted over my ear. "Nice trick, darling."

My body sagged with exasperation. "Must you always best me?"

His lips pressed a kiss to the place where my jaw met my neck below my ear. "I distract you. If it were any swordsman but me, you would have won with that maneuver. You are too afraid you might hurt me."

I reached out an arm to lower his sword point from my neck. "Would you rather I was not?"

James' mouth pulled into a smile against my skin. "I would hate to have you as an enemy."