17. For What It’s Worth
FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH
For three weeks, Cecily tried to hate Jack.
She should have known how hard it would be from that first night when she was kept awake through the early hours of the morning, Jack’s apology echoing through her mind as though to tempt her into forgiving him.
I’m sorry…for what it’s worth.
Forgiving Jack would be terribly inconvenient.
If she forgave him, she’d undoubtedly love him, and then she’d be in love with a man who was somehow above her, and after a year of being ground into a beastly woman with uncommonly high morals she could hardly keep half the time, she would not let herself be taken for a fool. Again.
But she could make him mean nothing to her. It would be easy once set her mind to avoiding him, and she was thankful he had promised to leave her be.
The next morning, she took her time braiding her hair into a crown, hoping to miss Jack leaving his room. She assumed he’d be gone by midmorning, but when she stepped into the hallway, Jack’s door opened at the same time, and they nearly crashed into one another.
They froze, their chests almost touching. Cecily dared not breathe or speak, even as she waited for him to say something. Jack’s throat bobbed, his lips parted, and with a small exhale that somehow sounded resigned, he stepped back to allow her room to pass.
A pebble of disappointment sank to the bottom of her gut, but what did she expect? Another apology after she’d denied the last one?
No, she chided herself. He can’t give you anything worth wanting.
Not apologies, money, swords—not even love.
Squaring her shoulders, she strode past. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard him grumble a curse, and then came his steady gait. She rushed for the front door, pushed into the street, and fled for the cove.
Every morning after that, Jack left early and slammed his door loud enough for her to hear. Only then did she leave her room.
During the first week, Cecily set her focus on Hector Hein.
He met the pirates every afternoon at the outcropping over the governor’s house, the only place they were all comfortable meeting to discuss the heist (and because “the cove is strictly for lowlifes, and the woods will eat him,” as Maria had said before refusing to offer any clarification for what that meant).
He swaggered in as though he were one of the crew, always greeting Cecily with a lazy grin and a sultry, “Hello again, lovely.”
She wondered if it was a blessing or a curse that she didn’t fear dangerous men as she should.
In fact, she trusted him, if only because she knew most of what he said were lies.
His chilling presence soothed her, so she stayed near enough to breathe it in and wrap the cold around her softened heart.
It might have worked if she couldn’t feel Jack’s gaze from across the clearing. He kept his promise to leave her alone, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t watch her, just as he always did.
Thankfully, there was a brief respite when the others bid him to draw a map of the governor’s house, which he finished quickly, producing an intricate floor plan carefully labeled in elegant script.
Hein released an appreciative whistle. A mischievous glimmer appeared in his eyes, and he asked Jack if he had anything better to do during the day than draw pictures of houses.
As it turned out, the governor’s captain of the guard had recently lost his second in command, and Hein suggested Jack might be available to take the position for a time.
Then he’d flashed a smile handsome enough to rival Jack’s and added, “I imagine you’ll do well enough. You’re used to being second.”
Jack’s answering laugh held a warning. “I bide my time, Hector. I’m no stranger to patience.”
Nevertheless, he took the job. After that, Cecily saw him even less.
During the second week, she kept herself busy with her new friends, choosing a companion based on whoever wasn’t snogging their lover at any given time, and though she thought less of the island’s various iniquities, she kept her promise to not wander off on her own.
Even the haunted forest no longer concerned her.
Though the locals refused to even walk near it, she never heard any screams or whispers and navigated it confidently as if she walked down a deserted street, loud, laughing, and unafraid with Hester, Fay, or Maria.
Every night, they all met with Hein at the inn instead of the outcropping.
The governor’s guards were on edge and more likely to spot them, thanks to Jack, who was only present with his friends in the evenings, exhausted and eager to laugh and drink after working long hours as a guard in the governor’s house.
There he was known as Officer Marín, and as the captain’s new second in command, he took great delight in terrifying the guards into greater competency.
Within a week, word had spread around the island about how humorless and formidable he was, as well as his harsh and humiliating punishments.
He was good at his job, so much so that people suggested his position was a promotion and a relief for his former subordinates.
Some called him a demon while others blamed his disfigured face for his ill temper—an appearance Fay carefully applied for him each morning with cosmetics Maria made.
The pirates, however, found it all uproariously funny. It would lend well to their ruse, because if they could appear to rob the house under the nose of a man as formidable as Officer Marín, it would frustrate the governor to no end.
Their plan was simple. Once the governor left, Hein would bring Cecily to the mansion with the excuse of showing his latest lover the beautiful home—which he often did to delight and surprise the women he wooed.
While Jack pretended to be Officer Marín, Hein would instruct him to call off the guards, insisting the home would be safe with him.
Jack would loudly disagree but eventually concede on the condition that he remained in the house as a guard.
Then the other pirates would arrive a half hour later, disguised as visiting nobles, and Hein would let them in to spend an hour robbing predetermined rooms, then leave with no one the wiser.
As for the captain of the guard, Jack promised he wouldn’t be an issue as he spent most days napping in his office while Marín did all the hard work. And with the house in such competent hands, he’d taken to leaving early each day.
Once the governor returned and realized he’d been robbed again, he’d most likely pin the blame on Officer Marín’s oversight—but Jack would be long gone by then. At worst, he’d question Hein, who would be the picture of innocence, and his friendship with the governor would keep him from trouble.
During these meetings to plan their heist, Cecily always sat next to the officer, nestled comfortably under his arm. But even he wasn’t enough to distract her from Jack.
Now that they met in public, Jack fielded advances from women as though he were a lamp hung in a moth-infested field.
Every night, a new girl found her way to his lap where she’d giggle and whisper in his ear while others stood nearby or cast longing glances his way, cursing themselves for not being brave enough to have gotten to him first. While he entertained them with generous and handsome smiles, Cecily tried to smother every jealous thought and vengeful feeling that encouraged her toward the kind of brutality that had defined her prison sentence.
But just as Maria had said, Jack never took them to bed. At least, as far as Cecily knew.
She didn’t realize how often she touched her knife until Hein took her hand one night and kissed the back of it.
“You’re making me nervous,” he said, skimming his lips over her fingers and speaking as though he were overcome by lust. His eyes, however, were clear.
“You’ll ruin my fun for years to come if you kill him. ”
Over his shoulder, Cecily met Jack’s dark gaze, his face drawn in a way she wouldn’t forget for days after. Irritation edged with disgust—and enough of it to frustrate the girl who sat with him.
Rather than being excited by his torment, Cecily only felt tormented herself. She tried to convince herself it was because the few hooks he’d set in her were being pried away, which was bound to come with pain, blood, and bruising.
It worked. For a while.
By the third week, she toyed with the idea of leaving despite Copson’s threat.
It was a morbidly selfish gamble, but what were the chances that the captain had been bluffing when he threatened Hester?
He wouldn’t hurt his own son and loyal crew if there was no hope of Cecily’s return.
Besides, he was too mindful of his crew, and his retaliation against people who hadn’t wronged him would serve him in no way.
Such unfairness wouldn’t inspire any loyalty either, and he was smarter than that.
But if it turned out that Copson had been earnest, the manner in which she left might make the difference.
She’d been edging toward the decision these past weeks, too scared to make it but growing increasingly desperate. She wasn’t sure how she’d manage to leave, or when, until the afternoon before the heist arrived.
Hein walked her home after spending a few hours together for the sole purpose of being seen—and, for Cecily, it had been one last attempt to confirm that the officer could not replace Jack in her mind.
He couldn’t, though she considered this to be her failure rather than anything he’d done.
She would only have to try harder and muster the courage to escape the Copsons altogether.
The road was quiet and empty as they neared the inn, a cool breeze shuffling through the trees when the officer spoke.
“I’ve received orders,” he said, though the news didn’t seem to come with any particular pleasure. “I leave for Spain by the end of the week.”