Page 49 of The Worst of Them

She had liked Jack—more than she ought to after so little time. But it hadn’t been so short. Not really. Jack was there every day. All day. He was the only one around as both of their friends had run off into marital bliss.

She tried again to remember why she’d disliked him, but came up with only good. He hadn’t spoken of her murders after he’d discerned her crime. He also hadn’t tried to touch her, not until after he’d handed her a sword and challenged her to use it. Even then, it had been soft brushes of his fingers that left her heart in her throat. He helped her when she tended the ashes each morning and hadn’t betrayed their truce with viciousness. He’d defied Captain Copson when he gave her a knife and told her to hide it⁠—

Not suitable.

Light washed over the deck as Copson’s door swung wide and then shut again. Cecily held her breath as bootsteps descended to the lower decks, away from her.

It was generous, really, to have been given an entire week of peace. An entire week of contentment, now ruined because in what world was she, a criminal for only a year, not good enough for the bloodthirsty, sinful son of an infamous pirate?

Have your fun, Jack, but don’t get attached. Girls like her aren’t suitable.

Was that what he was doing? Having fun with her?

Cad. Bastard. Manipulative, wicked pirate, tricking her into liking him with all his quiet kindnesses. It had all been a ruse to get her to behave, to entertain him, and perhaps eventually give him more.

She was a fool.

From the trenches of her memory, a nobleman’s laughter echoed back to her. Once again, she had been judged and found wanting. Again, she was unworthy—of death, kindness, friendship, love, and now even a pirate thought her unsuitable.

What an awful, cursed thing she was. She had never felt much pity for herself, and she didn’t feel it now. There was only the hollow, howling rage that had overcome her since the day that wealthy man had bought her death, her life, and this most unfortunate hell.

She stared at Tortuga, no longer feeling so torn about leaving Copson’s crew. It wouldn’t be hard—she’d find some other ship and beg them to take her home, then find a way to make money wherever she landed, perhaps in a ladies’ shop. And as painful as it would be to leave Hester, it would be easier knowing she was safe and happy with Greyson.

The only complication would be escaping Jack. The keen-eyed, sharp-witted first mate would surely sense her absence. But maybe he would let her go in spite of the articles. He may not even care if she were gone.

Or perhaps he would follow her for the sake of keeping his father’s commands, what with him being so dedicated to his position.

It didn’t matter. She would outwit him and run from him, and until then she’d hate him as she once had, despise him even though her hard, icy heart had somehow melted at the edges.

It would be easy.

It was so easy to hate Jack Copson. She’d done it before, and she would do it again.

Thudding steps came from the direction of the stairs behind her. The air around her seemed to warm, and then Jack spoke.

“Sleeping under the stars again, Cecily?”

Her heart plunged into her stomach as he turned her name to velvet. She merely glanced at the sky and said evenly, “Ruminating.”

He came to stand next to her by the foremast, lingering out of the corner of her eye. “About what?” His voice was gentle, kind. Friendly.

“The home I’ll have one day.” It wasn’t a complete lie. She matched his tone, even as her insides trembled with resentment. “You?”

He looked toward the island. “I have friends in Tortuga. We raise utter hell every summer, and it’s always a grand time.”

“Wonderful.” The word came spiked with enough venom to make Jack glance at her.

“Everything alright?” he asked slowly, wearing what appeared like genuine concern.

“Will I be free in Tortuga?” she asked. “Or am I to be your shadow?” How easy will it be to run from you?

“Ah,” he said. “That.” He sounded pleased, almost overly so, as though trying to make up for her bad mood. “I spoke with my father. I didn’t think it would be practical to keep this arrangement on land, and he agreed.” He smiled at her. “Do as you like in Tortuga. You’re beholden to no one but yourself until it’s time to leave again. It’s not a full release, but I’m sure we can persuade him by the time we return to England.”

She blinked. That…was not what she’d expected.

“Of course, you’re welcome to tag along with me if you like,” Jack went on. “Greyson and Hester will, since my friends are his.” His levity morphed into teasing. “They’ll want to know who cut my face.”

She didn’t smile. All she’d needed to hear was that she wouldn’t have eyes on her when she took her money and left. By the time anyone realized Cecily was gone, it would be too late. She would be long gone.