Page 39 of The Worst of Them

Chuckling, Jack pushed away from the mast. “I hear there’s a bed that might warm you.”

Embarrassment flooded her cheeks, indignation dousing any tender feelings she maybe might have had for him. “I only said that because they were calling me your—” She huffed. “Morgyn provoked me earlier. I had to take her satisfaction.”

“Today on the main deck?” His brow furrowed. “You looked to be having a happy conversation.”

Her jaw hung. “Are you serious?”

“You were smiling?”

“I was telling her to go to hell.” She turned on him. “Maybe I should tell you the same. You took ideas from her to torture me.”

No chagrin. No apology. Not even a blink. Only, “Does that bother you?”

She grimaced. “Bother me? No, nothing bothers me in the slightest. I’m pleased all the time with absolutely everything.”

“I took her suggestion because I wondered what her goal was,” he said. “And if she tried to provoke you, I wanted to know if you would bear it or retaliate. Despite all we do for order and discipline, the crew has their own social order—and I know prison does too. The captain and I have been waiting for it to fall into place.” He leaned closer. “You were waiting for that moment on the merchant ship. You knew it was coming, and you were ready.”

Cecily gave a wry grin. “Did you think I’d kill her?”

“Kill her or fight her, maybe both. I’m glad you didn’t. I’ve grown mildly attached to your insidiousness. It amuses me, and it would’ve almost been a shame to kill you.”

“Kind of you to say,” she said woodenly. “I suppose I don’t like you enough to grant you the opportunity. But maybe once I’m fond of you, I’ll let you have a go at my neck.”

Jack laughed, that beautiful smile from earlier gracing his face. This time, she let herself stare.

“There are so many things I could do with a neck like yours,” he murmured. “You may find I’m rather skilled.” Heat bloomed through her lower belly as his voice lowered. “Wringing, breaking, slitting, strangling.”

She wondered if she could punch him in the throat without getting fined again. Maybe that would cool the burning in her blood. But then he lifted his hand and presented a dagger.

Her eyes locked on it. The worn leather sheath spanned the width of his palm, the thread along its edge aged but sturdy. Though she couldn’t see the short blade, the handle was wood, smooth and polished from years of use.

“I will let you have this so long as you keep it hidden,” Jack said.

She resisted a primal urge to grab it. “Why?”

“Let’s call it another truce. You’ve drawn enough attention. Any more will complicate your place on this crew, and that will be very exasperating for me.”

Especially after today, setting herself apart from the others wasn’t wise. If this was a trade for her cooperation, she’d accept it.

She nodded, eager to hold the blade against her chest like it was her own child. She took the handle, but Jack’s hand wrapped around the sheath, keeping it between them.

“Hide it,” he said again. “Sleep below deck.” He released the knife, and she slipped it into her pocket. “Don’t make me regret this. If you get caught, I’ll deny I ever gave it to you.”

“I won’t get caught.” To her surprise, she smiled. A real smile, an actual grin that wasn’t menacing or mocking. It was true happiness—raw, excited, hopeful gladness that rose through her middle and told her life is good and maybe it will keep being good.

Jack’s gaze dropped to her lips before returning to her eyes. She couldn’t help herself as she beamed at him, her hand wrapped around the knife in her pocket. She might have even giggled, but she pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth before it could burst from her lips.

Armed to the teeth.

Her smile dimmed…

My girl.

…and disappeared altogether. Her heart raced and her stomach rolled, and she didn’t know why it was suddenly harder to breathe or why her chest ached.

“I watched you fight today,” Jack said. “You’re very good with a sword.”

“So are you,” she replied automatically, prodding every corner of her mind to tell her why this man was making her feel the way she did, or if it was simply a new flavor of bitter hatred.