Page 88 of The Worst of Them

Aside from the crew’s inaugural robbery—where they’d broken into the house on a whim and escaped by sheer luck—they had never been so unprepared.

They were determined to make it work in their favor.

Six years into this tradition, the guards were wise enough to look out for the summer robbers. Their expectations were piqued for a systematic, covert invasion of the governor’s house—not a laundress badly flirting her way past the guards with a cart full of bumbling thieves.

Shortly after sunset, Cecily approached the governor’s mansion with a mule Maria had procured from God-knew-where. It pulled the laundry cart, where the pirates lay concealed beneath a pile of sheets they’d “borrowed” from the inn.

The women had outfitted Cecily in one of Fay’s low-cut shirts, the fabric cinched at her waist above her flowing blue skirt, and they’d braided half her hair, tucking the uneven pieces into her usual crown while leaving the back to brush the tops of her shoulder blades. Fay had said she looked seductive while Maria declared, “You carry yourself like a virgin,” which made Hester cackle.

Cecily didn’t care much how others looked at her, but she flushed at the thought of seeing Jack, who’d never seen her dressed in such a way and would undoubtedly like it. She resisted the urge to pull the top of her shirt higher as she walked. Instead, she rested her hand on the mule’s neck and whispered gentle, encouraging words to the creature to keep herself steady.

If the guards were any good and adhered to protocol, they’d be put off by Cecily’s terrible flirting, catch the pirates, and bring them all to the most terrifying officer the island had ever seen. Once Officer Marín dismissed the guards back to their posts, the pirates would pillage then waltz out an hour later, leaving the guards clueless that anything had occurred beyond a scolding and mild torture at the hands of their superior.

She prayed it would work. The others had been sure to remind her that if it didn’t, it was wholly, entirely, inarguably her fault.

The house rose before her, stunning with its stucco walls and tall, imposing doors guarded by bored soldiers. Wrought-iron rails bordered balconies strewn with leafy plants and shrouded by canvas canopies that hung along the orange-tiled roof.

Cecily tried not to look too impressed as she followed the path toward the servants’ entrance where the guard at the door made no effort to hide the way he dragged his eyes over her.

She smiled coyly.

“What’s your business?” he asked without taking his eyes off all her neckline didn’t manage to conceal.

“Laundry,” she said. She left the mule and came to stand in front of him, looking up through her eyelashes.

She wasn’t great at it—her flirting was better suited to a more violent kind of affection—but the guard grinned anyway, revealing two rows of crooked teeth.

Some of her hair had fallen over her shoulder, and she brushed it back, drawing his eyes to the pale column of her neck. “What’s your name, sir?”

“Cosme,” he answered dazedly.

“Are you going to let me in, Cosme?” she asked, her voice so light and girlish that she knew she must be coming on too strong, but unsure of how to fix it. “The sooner I get in, the sooner I can finish and have some time to myself.”

She stifled the urge to cringe, but from the way the his eyes glazed over, the effect was better than she’d intended—too much so. Sweat beaded along her brow as he leaned against the door and said, “Night is falling. Perhaps you can be leisurely.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. She’d thought the guards would be better than this, especially with Marín on duty tonight.

“Wouldn’t that be fun,” she said, a little too woodenly. “Perhaps you can help me.”

Cosme shifted, the edges of his mouth lifting into what he probably assumed was seductive smile. “I think I could spare a few minutes.”

Cecily swallowed. From the pile of sheets behind her, she could have sworn she heard Maria’s disappointed sigh.

She didn’t know where to go from here. She wished she had any of her knives as it seemed the next best way to raise suspicion, but Jack had them waiting for her inside. She trailed her gaze down the man’s face and throat, looking for the best place to throw her fist and get them detained by way of an all-out brawl.

Killian would be thrilled.

Footsteps sounded from the right as a different guard passed. Mercifully, he paused. She could feel his gaze on her back until, finally, he asked, “What’s she here for?”

Cecily looked over her shoulder, hoping her eyes were sparkling with mischief or violence—either would serve at this point. “Laundry,” she sighed.

The new guard looked at the cart. “What’s in there?”

She grinned and pretended she was Hester. “Bedding.”

Cosme cleared his throat. The second guard frowned at his distracted companion and said, “There’s been no one in this house for two days. And laundresses always come in the morning.”

Cecily pouted. “I should’ve been here yesterday, but I got distracted and now I’m terribly behind. If my mistress discovers I’ve been fooling around with soldiers again⁠—”