A Proper Education

Chapter One: Impropriety

Wendy's barefoot steps were nearly silent on the wooden floor. The ship creaked and groaned as it coasted on the waves. She slipped down the hallway to the door of the captain's cabin. There, she hesitated, hand hovering by the handle. She swallowed, took a breath, and closed her hand around the cool metal – a feeling not unlike his curved, wickedly sharp–

She shook her head. Shut up, she told herself. It would be fine. Peter had a plan. This was part of the plan.

Slowly, painstakingly slowly, she pulled the door open. The sounds of the ship masked the sound of the hinges as she carefully closed it behind her again.

The cabin was not particularly large. Moonlight from the rear windows spilt inside and illuminated the sleeping face of Captain Hook. The stark shadows sharpened his features.

She stood, frozen for a moment. Even asleep, he had a commanding presence. She felt a sudden urge to curtsey and run from the room.

But she was here for a reason. Peter had told her the dagger he needed was under Hook's pillow. And since she was nimble and quiet with slender fingers, it was her job to retrieve it.

Steeling her resolve, she crept across the room, keeping a close eye on his face. She barely dared to breathe, for fear of making too much noise. Even her nightgown, which made nearly imperceptible swishing sounds against her legs, seemed too loud.

The Jolly Roger pitched suddenly, and Wendy stumbled. For a dangerous few heartbeats, she was seconds away from falling to the ground with a pirate-waking thump. But she managed to grab hold of the wall and regain her balance.

Wendy took a slow, quiet breath. Then she set her sights back on the pirate captain. One hand still hovering near the wall, she closed the final distance until she stood at the edge of his bed. She was so close she could smell him – a vaguely familiar cologne and strong spirits.

His blankets had shifted downward so she could see his broad, bare shoulders and the beginnings of dark curls on his chest. It made her uncomfortable, so she shifted her gaze upwards. His black beard. His cruel mouth, softer in sleep. His eyes, blue and open and watching her.

She squeaked and jumped back. She tried to turn and run, but his hand snapped out and gripped her arm tightly.

"Pray tell, Miss Darling," he said, voice low, slowly pulling her back to him. "What are you doing in here?"

She struggled vainly against his grip, stumbling over her words. "Nothing, I– Please– Peter said– Please, I– Just let me go."

He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and placing his feet firmly on the floor. He pulled her closer, so she stood nearly between his knees. "This is very inappropriate, Miss Darling," he scolded. "Stealing into a strange gentleman's bedchamber, dressed in nothing but your bedclothes." His eyes followed the white lace trim of her nightgown around the collar at her neck, around her wrists at the end of her long sleeves, and down to where it hung just below her knees. Wendy squirmed, hugging her free arm around herself. He looked back up at her face, at the same height as his. "People would talk." He said the words as though they were particularly savoury.

Her gaze dropped to the floor, a flush warming her cheeks.

"Look at me," he ordered, and she obeyed immediately, head still bowed slightly, but eyes on his. He pulled her closer still until her knees were pressed against the edge of the bed. He let go of her wrist only to grip her chin just as tightly. He forced her face upwards. "What do you think is done to improper little girls who do not follow the rules?"

Wendy's lower lip trembled. Her breath came in short gasps. Her dark eyes, still on his, were wide.

Hook leaned in until she could feel his breath against her face. "Do you suppose they might require punishment so that they might amend their ways?" he whispered.