Chapter 4

As she came back into the room he realized he had not moved from the time she left. She gave him a bright smile, and he found he could not stop himself from returning it.

Randy dropped down on the other end of the couch and faced him. “Those were some serious thoughts you were having when I walked in.”

He nodded. “I seem to only have serious ones remaining.” He shrugged. “My crew, if they were still in this world, would laugh at the very thought of the Black Brand being always so serious.”

She finished chewing the bite of her sandwich before speaking. “Why is that?”

“Back then I laughed more than not. It was my belief that life was short and one should enjoy it.” He shook his head. “If I had known that I would be given such a prolonged one, I am not sure how I would have lived knowing.”

“I’m betting you wouldn’t have pissed off a gypsy.”

He laughed at how bold she was. “Indeed, I would not have.”

She took another bite and studied him while she chewed. “The way you talk, it’s very proper for a pir— someone who lived on a ship and did what you did.”

“Ah. I was not born on the sea; I was reared by a very proper mother and a quite stern father before I broke their hearts and took off for Tortuga.”

“Was Tortuga all they say it was?”

“I’m sure it is quite more than has been said. However, after the year seventeen eighteen, it was quite a piece quieter than it had been prior to the banishment of piracy.”

Randy winced. “So you had to hide what you were. You didn’t speak all prim and proper while you were on your ship, though, did you? I mean, you must have sailed with a rough bunch.”

“To save a hanging, most pirates hid what they did. I did indeed sail with a rough lot. But my proper rearing came to be quite useful from time to time. Now that I have spent over two hundred years listening and learning, I have lost the slur of pirate-speak, yet I cannot manage to sound like a modern man.”

She snorted. “Which is a wonderful thing, if you ask me.”

He watched her take another bite and chew it. Of all the things he yearned for in his most recent past, tasting what she was eating held his highest interest now. “What is that?” He motioned toward the plate of food on her lap.

Looking at the partially eaten sandwich in her hand, she shrugged. “Swiss cheese and Black Forest ham, uh, a bit of lettuce and mayo on rye bread.”

“Are tears forming?” He swiped at his eyes playfully. “Those are quite likely the most heavenly words I have heard in forever and a day.”

“You really do miss eating, don’t you?”

“Even more than other pleasures at times.” He winked at her.

He watched the color rise in her cheeks again and found it intrigued him.

“Would you like me to describe it to you?”

He nodded. “Please do.”

Taking another bite, she chewed slowly. “The bread is tender compared to the crunchy lettuce, but it’s bitter at the same time. It’s kind of tangy with the mayo on it. The cheese is strong, but the ham is sweet...”

He closed his eyes and sighed before looking to her again. “If I could break this curse for one day, I would fill my stomach ten times over.”

She leered at him. “I’m sure you’d do more than that.”

His smile was wide. “It would be a close race to see which I would want more than the other.”

“I bet that once you filled your stomach, it wouldn’t be long until you were working on other unfulfilled appetites.”

Jareth curbed his tongue and did not allow the words in his mind to be heard aloud. He shrugged and winked at her again in answer. “I was never a betting man.”

Setting the plate on the table, she turned and laughed. “Ha! You just know you’d lose that bet.”

He longed to be real flesh in this moment so he could pull her to his body and laugh with her. The very sound of her laughter filled him with a warmth he’d thought to never feel again. His voice could find no words to speak, so he remained silent looking at her and feeling the joy inside of him.

Randy shook her head and huffed out a breath. “Okay, enough of that. Let’s get your shirt off and I’ll start trying to copy your tattoo onto the ship.”

Jareth sat there for a few moments more. Once again the idea of not being here beyond this moment plagued him. To stay would mean the onset of affections better not explored for her... He almost laughed at the direction of his thinking. It was far too late to place himself at a distance from her, it had been for many a year now.

Leaning forward, closer to his image, she smiled at him. “You’re not shy, are you?”

“No. I am just uncertain that I should be taking up your time like this.”

Shaking her head, she grimaced at him. “You are not taking up my time. You are saving my life right now. If you hadn’t have appeared when you did today, I probably would have had a serious meltdown... My life was at an all-time low at that moment.”

Jareth frowned, once again not certain he understood her entirely. Sighing, he shrugged. “Well, if I am saving your life, how can I possibly decline?” He leaned forward and pulled the still untucked shirt from his body. He set it in his lap, then looked back to see her eyes drifting over his bared form. He turned away quickly, unsure of whether his body’s reaction to her wandering eyes would be apparent.

Randy leaned back and studied his back for a moment. The tattoo was still amazing for the archaic application and age, but the other marks on him drew her attention the most. He had scars across the lower part of his back that crisscrossed over his flesh. Leaning to the side, she noticed a jagged-looking one beneath his ribs on the right side. “You weren’t very nice to your body, Jareth.”

He chuckled. “In fact, I was quite pleasant to it. But others were not so kind.”

Picking up the ship she cradled it carefully as she crossed her legs. She dipped the brush and turned back to look at him. “I think maybe you should have been faster in order to escape that sort of thing.”

“I was fast, more than most, but no one is completely uncatchable.” He sat there with his spine straight, looking at the shelf where the ships sat quietly.

She wondered if he was uncomfortable sitting here, with her, like this. She scowled at the ship as she focused to duplicate the swirl and slant to match on both sides. “This isn’t going to be very detailed. It’s such an intricate design that there is no way I could put all of it on a space this small.”

“It matters that you are willing to do it at all. The outcome is of no great importance to me.”

“Are you comfortable in that position? It shouldn’t take me much longer.”

He turned his head. “My comfort is not at stake.”

Dabbing faint brushstrokes to create a pattern, faded with age, or “weathered,” as he had put it. She might have to paint a large picture of just the back of the ship to do the entire design sometime. She added a few more marks to the smooth wood and studied it before looking back at his broad back.

Tilting her head to the side a bit, she studied him. He obviously had been in great shape at the time the gypsy had been a total bitch. His muscles were clearly formed, but not overdone. She supposed it was food availability and diet, as well as his physical activity.

Turning, she set the ship gently back on the table and moved closer to him on the couch. She couldn’t help but want to touch the amazing pattern etched into his skin. She reached out slowly with her hand, not sure if he’d actually feel it or not, but she still warned him. “I just have to see if I can touch it, Jareth,” she whispered when she was only a foot away from him.

Holding her hand just far enough from his back that she wouldn’t go through him, she moved her hand slowly across the span of his shoulders. Her palm tingled as if she were brushing a feather very slowly over her palm, barely connecting with it. She smiled and ran it back across in the other direction. “I am so bad to even say this to you, but I really wish I could feel you.”

~

Jareth sat there with his jaw clenched. He could actually feel where her hand was moving on his body without having to look over his shoulder to know that it was. He closed his eyes as the sensations traveled through him, truly feeling again, after so long stole all rational thought. He straightened slightly to break the contact, wishing for the ability to take one ragged breath.... He cleared his throat and picked up his shirt. “I must be leaving.”

Randy frowned. “Why?”

Jareth pulled the long shirt over his head before he turned to completely face her. The look of longing spread across her face, and it jolted him to see it in her eyes, as well. He stood up slowly. “I find...” He hesitated, not wanting to truly share with her why he needed to be away from her. “I find it trying to be in your presence for this long.” He offered her what he perceived as a polite smile. “It has been far too long that I’ve been alone, and I am...”

“I get it. Too much, too soon, after a long, long time alone.”

“Yes. Please do not feel offended.”

She shook her head and looked up at him. “I’m not. I understand.”

“Very well.” He took two steps toward the doorway and stopped to look back at her. “Would you allow me to call again?”

“It is very much allowed. Anytime you want. Even if I’m not here...although I have nowhere to be that I know of for a while.” She got up and stuffed her hands into her back pockets. “You can chill out here whenever you like.”

He frowned. “Chill out?”

She grinned and dropped her head. “Sorry, uh, you are welcome to come here any time you like.”

He inclined his head politely. “Many thanks.” He glanced at the ship on the table. “Thank you for your recreation.”

Randy shrugged. “It was no biggie.”

He didn’t know what a “biggie” was, precisely, but he did know he needed to leave—right now. “Until next time then, Miranda.”

She bowed her head the way he did and then smirked. “I’ll see you later.”

Jareth stood in the trees at the back of her land and watched until it grew dark inside her walls. He moved closer and slowly went around the house one time. All he craved at this moment was to return to her, even if she was asleep.

He had learned a lifetime before that what you craved too strongly was never good for you in the end. Nodding to his own reasoning, he turned from the house and whispered as he walked away, “Sleep well, Miss Miranda Story.” With a quickened speed he moved as far as he was allowed in the boundaries of his curse from her particularly appealing presence.