25. The Death of a Pirate #2
“Insolent boy.” Copson faced Cecily. “I won’t play your games, girl. What do you want?”
“Respect,” she said. Now that the captain knew she was allied with Jack and had information he wanted, her nerves had cooled enough for honesty without fear of his reproach.
“Earn it,” Copson bit at her. “You endear me to you in no way by seducing my son and coercing me.”
A laugh burst from her. “Seduction and coercion? I was going to run before Jack went to such great effort to convince me otherwise. I’m under no impression that I can win your respect through charm, so I’ll play the cards I am dealt.
” She stepped closer to the captain, invading his space.
Her hands shook, so she set them on her hips, giving off the air of power she’d been so deft at showing in prison.
“But if you’re so certain we’ve scorned you, then I’ll tell you one thing about this map. Consider it a gesture of goodwill.”
Copson held very still, his gray gaze hot enough to make her wonder if she might regret this. She probably wouldn’t.
“England,” she said. “The map is headed for England.”
His nostrils flared. “Right now?”
She didn’t answer.
He regarded her for a long moment, then the edge of his mouth lifted.
“How do I know you’re not lying? Perhaps you’ve inserted yourself into my family and now wish to make me return you to England for your own purposes.
Perhaps Robin didn’t tell you anything at all—he died rather quickly, didn’t he? ”
“That would be clever,” she said, “if I were willing to jeopardize Jack.”
Copson looked at his son. There was no generosity or pleasure in his gaze, but Jack only leaned against the wall, staring back serenely.
“Suppose Robin lied,” the captain said.
“Maybe,” she allowed. “Though he only told me because he liked the idea of the knowledge belonging to someone you’re not overly fond of.”
When Copson’s gaze whipped back to her, she shrugged.
“Insane or not,” Jack said, “it sounds like something Robin would do.”
The captain ground his teeth. Then he swore and said to Jack, “Get the word out—we leave at dawn. I have another engagement anyway.”
Jack nodded once. “Aye, captain.”
Copson stormed off, leaving Jack and Cecily alone by Robin’s door. When he was gone, Jack swung his head toward Cecily.
“Tell me there’s really a map,” he said, having lost his ease from a moment ago. His eyes drilled into her, the lines of his face drawn into sternness.
“There’s a map,” she said, her voice low as she watched the pirates mill about. She gave a wry smile. “I told the truth. Just not all of it.”
Shoving a hand through his hair, he sighed. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“He’ll get what he wants,” she said. “But so will I.”
Jack stared at her, then a smile broke over his lips. He pushed away from the wall. “You’ll surely irritate my father to pieces, but only for doing exactly as he would. You’re a fine Copson already.” He jerked his head toward the front of the house, bidding her to follow him.
“And you telling him our happy news,” Cecily muttered dryly. “Will we suffer more for that later?”
“Undoubtedly,” he replied. “But the most he can do about it is absolutely nothing.”
They emerged into the yard where Greyson and Hester lingered with a few others. While Cecily pulled in a lungful of fresh air, Jack set to work, parsing out orders to the crew to be back at the ship before dawn, and pass word along to any crew who weren’t present.
As Greyson and Jack had work to do to prepare for departure, Hester and Cecily set off to gather their belongings with promises they would meet the men at the ship later.
“One whole day of not despising him,” Hester said, moseying to Cecily’s side to throw an arm over her shoulders, “and it was so good you decided to marry? Bravo.” She scanned the length of Cecily’s body. “Yet you still carry yourself like a virgin. Maria will be horrified.”
As they started toward the road, Cecily smirked. “We were drunk. Couldn’t make it that far.”
“Ooooh, I don’t believe that would’ve stopped you.” Hester snickered. “You know, you look at him like he’s a dessert, my ever-so good and pious Cecily. I doubt you even know it. He does, judging by that godawful look he gets in his eye when he sees you. Like you’re a dessert too.”
“I don’t look at him in any sort of way,” she said, as staunchly deadpan as she’d always been with Hester. Though it seemed Jack hadn’t only taken her heart, but also her ability to control her expression.
“You do,” Hester said, “and he’s mad for you.” She pulled Cecily closer, laughing in her ear as she added, “I wish you every happiness, especially later when he finally—”
Cecily shoved Hester away, which only made her cackle louder. They continued down the road, teasing and jeering, then Hester peeled off for the beach while Cecily headed for the inn.
When she reached her door, unease settled over her. At first, she couldn’t place it. The answer nagged at her from the back of her mind like a shifting shadow, eager to shame her the moment it revealed itself.
Then a flash of memory—a red coat on a wicked woman.
Her stomach plunged. Cecily had forgotten all about Morgyn, distracted by witches, forests, rum, and marriage.
But Morgyn had taken her coat. She’d worn it last night after she’d stolen it, and the only way she could have done it was if she’d somehow been in Cecily’s room.
Cecily thought back to the morning before, scrambling for any memory, any sliver of a hint of a clue that she’d ever locked her door…and came up with nothing. She’d been so happy to be with Jack, so safe with her knives and her love that she had never returned to lock her door.
Holding her breath, she reached for the latch. The door was already unlocked, and it swung in.
Cold sweat slicked down her back as she stood on the threshold, waiting for something to jump out at her. The bed was still unmade, just as she’d left it, but her pack—which she’d left hanging on a hook with all her money and few possessions—was gone.
She hadn’t taken it with her yesterday.
She stepped inside, checked under the bed, tore back the blanket on the bed, searched every drawer and nook and cranny. Her new clothes were there, but her coat and her pack—her precious pack—was nowhere to be found.
Her fingers twitched toward her hip. Breath sawed through her nose, growing louder, harsher, as her own folly settled on her.
Foolish. How foolish she’d been. Of course Morgyn would have eyes on her, and of course she’d been robbed. She would not forget Cecily just because they’d left the ship, and she would exact her revenge until she was satisfied.
This wouldn’t end until one of them was dead. But Cecily would end it.
A vengeful curse tore from her throat, burning all the way out. She didn’t care if her vengeance would be right—she wanted her peace.
She only made it as far as the street, for when she tore open the door to the inn and stepped out into the sun, she was met by a swarm of constables.