Disclaimer - I own nothing, no infringement intended therefore please do not sue! I haven't a penny to give you :( Unless you want to take control of a very large student overdraft - woe!

Comments - I've been trying out these little ditties over at live journal for some time nowand have been having so much fun posting them, I thought I'd bring them over here :) There's nothing much to explain really, just a series of almost-one shots surrounding Beckett and Lizzie set after At World's End. All you really need to know is that the Armada won, the pirates have been scattered, Will died... (oh dear) and Lord Beckett found Elizabeth floating among the debris and took the opportunity to go and marry her. Just good business and all that... ;) Enjoy!

The Fortunate Mistress - Part I

Elizabeth bit her lip as her eyes skimmed eagerly across each worn and weathered page. Her eyes were wide, unwilling to blink in case they missed merely a single word of the erotic text she held in her cold hands. Her breathing was shallow and the first signs of molten desire were pooling between her thighs – aching from her clandestine activity.

She found herself bored during the day. Lord Beckett would disappear early in the morning on business, or would spend hours holed up in his private study reading and signing papers Elizabeth wasn't allowed to touch nor see and therefore she had to find ways to amuse herself when he wasn't around. Not that his company was that amusing anyway. However the one good thing she found from being locked up in her own house was that she had access to all her old belongings.

…and secrets.

She'd come across the book when she was barely fifteen. She'd heard the feminine sniggers of the maids one afternoon when she'd wandered down to the kitchen to get a snack. They'd all jumped and gasped, hiding the book in one of the kitchen drawers before getting back down to work. Elizabeth had been curious and gone back to fetch the book when there was no one around. The first time she read it she was horrified and disgusted - yet couldn't put it down, the second time she was amazed and curious, the third time and every time after that curled up in bed after the whole house had gone to sleep – she found herself sighing along to every word and imagining herself into the shoes of the feisty heroine lost between the pages.

She'd hidden the book under her mattress and had even managed to replace the cover – concealing the wicked prose behind a dull jacket advertising the History of the British Isles. No one would suspect a thing!

Elizabeth barely heard the sigh escape her lips as she reached her favourite page, the corner folded down delicately for future reference. She was lost and wrapped up in a world where everything was perfect and love existed. She also barely heard the door to the library click open, the sound of her husband returning from work. She flinched in her seat, lifting the book to her chest and peering across the room towards the doorway where Lord Beckett stood staring at her with an expressionless face. She didn't like that look, so unpredictable and unreadable – she never knew what was coming next. She rolled her eyes before continuing with her book, flooding her mind with words dripping scarlet.

"Oh it's you." She sighed sarcastically.
"Still continuing your study into the history of our realm?" Beckett asked dryly as he walked across to the liquor cabinet beside Elizabeth, grabbing a bottle of port and pouring it into a small glass.
"Mmm…yes." Elizabeth hummed, unable to lift her eyes from the delicious paragraphs of bawdy literature. "I find it fascinating…"
"Why don't you read some of it to me?" Beckett asked as he sank into the easy chair directly opposite his wife – lifting the glass of port to his gently curled lips.
"What?" Elizabeth blinked, looking up at him – the blood draining from her face.
"Why not?" Beckett said, leaning back in his chair comfortably, "A husband should take interest in his wife's fascinations, don't you think? Tell me about the Spanish Armada."

Elizabeth glared at him and swallowed hard – he was staring back at her intensely, his eyes cold and the corner of his mouth quirked into a subtle, knowing smirk. He couldn't possibly know, could he? She thought to herself as she tightened her grip on the book and lifted it an inch closer to her face. She wasn't afraid of her husband, but at the same time – didn't dare contemplate what might happen if he knew about her secret book. So she took a deep breath, cleared her throat and attempted to lie. The only trouble was – Elizabeth had never been good at history, the subject had always bored her.

"Umm." She frowned, pretending to flick back to find the 'appropriate' page, she mentally kicked herself for being so bold – she could feel her cheeks flushing hot red. "The Spanish Armada. During the reign of Elizabeth the first... um, the Spanish King…" Oh damn, what was his name? "Charles the second, sent a great armada of ships to the English coast in 15…" Elizabeth hesitated, "15…78…"

Beckett listened with an amused grin as he watched his wife painfully pretend to create an historical account out of thin air. He'd watched her on several occasions flicking avidly through the weathered pages of that book and noticed how her face flushed, how her plump bottom lip was always trapped between her teeth and how her breathing always became deep and heavy. He knew no woman, even the feisty and bright Elizabeth Swann would ever read reference books of the sort with such an excited glow. He raised his eyebrows as she continued – wondering whether to stop her or continue to listen and amuse himself further with her stubbornness.

"Interesting." He said, as he got up to pour another glass of port for himself. "Who is the author of this account?" he asked, a smirk gliding across his lips as he paced in front of his wife.
"Francis Harlow…" Elizabeth replied, her finger saving her page as she glanced at the stolen cover.
"Very interesting indeed." Beckett said to himself. Elizabeth frowned,
"Why?" she asked, blinking up at him as he stopped to face her.
"Francis Harlow died before Elizabeth the first ascended the English throne." He said, his voice thick and lazily arrogant. "No wonder he had no clue to the name of the Spanish king nor the date of the Armada…which was, by the way, in 1588."

Elizabeth stared up at him with wide eyes and a fierce blush as he stood over her with a subtle, knowing smirk. She felt naked and helpless – as she often did in front of him. He had a way of tricking her, unbinding her till she was naked and exposed without the means to help herself. She watched as he held out his hand to her, silently requesting the book. A helpless sigh escaped her lips as she handed it over – like a sulking child who'd been caught doing something they shouldn't. He stared at her darkly as he ripped off the stolen book jacket and threw it to the floor before reading the real book cover.

"Roxana: The Fortunate Mistress…" he read loudly, "Ah yes… I've heard of this."

Elizabeth mentally slapped herself as she felt her cheeks glowing hot from embarrassment, especially when Lord Beckett opened the book onto her favourite page. She blushed harder when he began to read out loud even her favourite passage, the one where the text had become blurred and smudged.

"…my ragged breaths grew deeper as the laces of my stays grew looser and looser. He opened the top half with animal hunger and slipped his cold hand inside to fondle a swollen breast, which throbbed beneath his hand as he cupped it." He read clearly, his voice pronouncing every scarlet word perfectly and without hesitation.

Elizabeth, through her embarrassment, couldn't help but listen as her husband read the purple passage from her secret book. The sound of his lazy, deep drone reading every explicit sentence and word was bizarrely erotic. She shifted her weight uncomfortably in her chair – the aching coil between her thighs growing tighter and more desperate for an explosive, satisfying release.

"…he pushed me roughly down onto the mahogany desk of his study, hungry to possess – to ravish me till I could barely walk…"

Beckett, lifted his eyes from the book and stared directly at his wife as he dictated the final sentence, his eyes for once not cold – but resembling a blazing fire, Elizabeth blushed. She stared up at him with wide eyes – she didn't quite know nor understand how he might react, what he planned on doing next. She flinched when he suddenly shut the book in one hand with snap, and walked towards her slowly.

"Some interesting reading material…" Beckett said before finishing his glass of port and setting the empty glass down on the cabinet surface beside Elizabeth. "Tell me, are you that unsatisfied and lonely in your new role that you feel you must resort to trite masturbatory aides such as this?" he questioned, holding the book up in one hand.
"Ha!" Elizabeth scoffed, daring to laugh at him, "'Unsatisfied' is an understatement… I'm being kept prisoner in my own house!"
"For perfectly good reasons.." Beckett interrupted. Elizabeth frowned and decided to continue with her speech rather than address those 'good reasons' as to why she was under house arrest,
"…I'm not allowed to leave, go out, or see anyone – I'm alone most of the day…"
"My heart bleeds." Beckett replied sarcastically with a bored sigh as he delicately raised his eyebrows.

Elizabeth groaned and rolled her eyes – sick of his arrogant attitude towards her. She'd had enough of the one way, pointless conversations that would ultimately always end in her own embarrassment – and so she rose passionately, intending to storm out of the room. But not without her book. She moved her hand to snatch it from him, but he refused her.

"Ah!" He warned, holding the book away from her. "I think I'll keep hold of this if you don't mind sweet."

Elizabeth gave him her most venomous glare – though it never seemed to do much good. Her husband's composure never faltered – his eyes always remaining cold and devoid of concern. She exhaled an angry grunt, before storming out – the door slamming loudly behind her.


More soon - :)