28. Lady Copson
LADY COPSON
Cecily had given a lot of thought to what it might be like to see Morgyn die.
Most of these thoughts had occurred in her beastliest moments when she had hated herself and her life the most. Though even on her best days, there was no life she despised more than Morgyn’s for all her wicked manipulation and cruelty toward Cecily and so many others.
Watching her die, however, was as alarming as any sudden death—and so quick that Cecily might have missed it if she so much as blinked.
Blood exploded from Morgyn’s head, her body crumpled, and she fell back into the sea. Save for the sound of her body hitting the water, the ship was silent.
Only after she had vanished did Cecily’s stomach bottom out. Not for joy or delight, but for the shock of it.
Morgyn, her villain, her enemy, was dead.
Cecily was surprised to feel no pleasure in her death, only a strained relief that she would no longer have to worry about preserving her own life against Morgyn’s whims.
Jack turned on his heel and returned to the deck, his gun still in hand. “Any objections?” he barked at the crew.
The new sailors watched in fear while seasoned crew merely turned away, lowering their gazes in respect. Fiero said nothing.
“Good,” Jack snapped. “Back to work.”
Cecily remained rooted in place, and Hester released her as the sailors burst into motion. Jack stalked closer, eyes still glittering with malice, but Cecily held his gaze.
The woman I love, he’d said, and her heart repeated it like a chant, savoring the words and decking the corners of her mind with them as though they were banners to hang over every thought and feeling for the rest of her life.
When he reached her, he slid his hand to the nape of her neck, a public declaration that she was his. “I’m sorry you weren’t the one to do it,” he said, but he didn’t sound sorry at all. “The new crew needed to see what happens when they cross a Copson.”
She might’ve told Jack she loved him then, but Jack leaned down to press his lips to hers. He was breathing hard, and so was she as she leaned into him. Then someone called his name, and he broke away.
“We’ll speak once we reach better waters,” he said. “I’ll find you.”
And though she knew she was first in his heart, there was much work to tend to before they began the long conversation they needed to have.
…the woman I love…
Cecily made her way to the galley, where Stede greeted her with an elated, “Glad you decided to come back, lassy! You’re lookin’ mighty well.” Then he gave her a pile of potatoes and a very sharp knife before telling her about visiting a man in Tortuga who was older than anyone had a right to be.
“Strange things in these waters,” he said, “but I told ya all about that. Saw a mermaid though, just off the port when we left. Black fins and quick as a whip.”
Despite her eagerness to escape before, the Fortuna Royale felt welcoming in a way she had never imagined it could be.
She settled into the hominess and told Stede about her own adventures, gleefully satisfied to watch his eyes glimmer with interest when she shared about the Witch of Tortuga and her haunted forest that ate an entire regiment of Spanish soldiers in a single night.
“Must’a been a sight,” he said reverently. “Soon you’ll have more stories than me.”
“I certainly hope not,” Cecily replied. “No one’s tales are better than yours.”
He winked. “I’m still collectin’ ‘em as long as the good Lord’ll let me.”
All day, they worked, serving lunch and then preparing dinner. She didn’t see Jack, but her thoughts constantly strayed to him, turning over his words and all that had happened that morning.
…the woman I love…
He came for her around supper.
“Where have you been?” she asked as he approached the galley. She eyed his windblown hair, his prowling steps, the knives on his strong body, and the gold ring glinting on his finger.
This morning he’d been wound with anger, but now he looked more at ease, his face composed and stoic. But when he met her gaze, the affection in his eyes made her toes curl in her boots.
“Maybe you don’t remember,” he drawled, “but new crew is quite a bit to manage.” He stopped before her, bringing with him the smell of wind and sea. “I look away for a single moment and someone could take my sword or sneak off to somewhere they shouldn’t be.”
Her heart beat faster. Husband, it seemed to whisper. He rescues me. He loves me.
“Perhaps they’re flirting with you,” she suggested.
His smile spread, and the effect was so unfairly beautiful that she craved the taste of it. “Is that what you were doing?”
She snorted. “No.”
Stede turned from the stove to give Jack as enthusiastic a greeting as he’d given Cecily that morning. He handed over a dinner for the first mate, as Cecily had already eaten, then Jack took her hand. Her blood sang from the simple contact as he led her through the ship and to his quarters.
Their quarters. Her body flushed with heat at the thought.
The porthole cast the last light of the evening sun over the room.
It looked exactly as it had before, with the desk affixed to the wall and the small armoire standing in the corner, its door cracked enough for her to see the red coat hanging inside, along with her bag where she knew her knives would be.
In the corner was the bed, neatly made and big enough for two. It would be their first real night as a married couple, and she had no doubt as to what it would entail. She looked forward to it. She wanted it.
She was nervous for it.
This one final piece of her, her last vestige of choice and innocence that she’d guarded so closely—she was ready to give it to him. Gladly, wholeheartedly, because he loved her. He’d proven it time and again, and she wanted—needed—to be his.
She had tried not to think about it, for she knew it would make her blush like mad. But now she couldn’t help it and didn’t bother trying as Jack shut the door and locked it. He set his plate on the table, then crossed the room to light a small lantern hanging on the wall by the desk.
As the flame lit, Cecily stepped behind him. Seeming to expect her, he turned away from the lantern to take her face in his hands at the same time she reached for his coat and pulled him down to her.
They crashed together in a desperate, searing kiss.
The stubble along his jaw was rough against her palms, but his lips were soft as they moved against hers.
His hands gripped her waist before he spun and planted her on the desk.
Her knees fell open and he stepped between them, gripping her thighs to pull her flush against him. She gasped as her hips locked with his.
And there was that smile again, lifting beneath her lips. It tasted as fine as it looked.
She ran her tongue along his bottom lip, tracing his grin as though she could consume it, pull it into herself and keep it next to her heart. When Jack groaned, she gently sank her teeth into that pillowy lip, then slowly let it go.
Jack’s eyes were half open, his heart beating hard against her chest. The space between them was merely a formality for the existence of clothes and the necessity of breathing.
Her gaze trailed to the dinner on the table across the room—he hadn’t eaten all day, and surely he was hungry. But his hand came to her chin and turned her attention back to him.
“Let it grow cold,” he said. He ran his thumb over the seam of her mouth, pausing in the middle. He pressed lightly, parting her lips. “I want you first.”
Light danced through her veins. He leaned in, but she whispered, “You said you love me.”
Jack paused and met her gaze. “I did.” His voice was husky, and she shivered with the accomplishment of having made it that way. “And I do. What of it?”
Her gaze dipped to his mouth, as though she might watch the words come out of it again.
God, that mouth, those lips, those teeth, that voice. She couldn’t imagine loving anyone as much as she loved him. “You haven’t said it to me yet,” she told him.
His brow furrowed. “Haven’t I?” She shook her head. “I could’ve sworn I said it. I’ve thought it plenty.”
“I’ve nearly told you so many times,” she said. “But I was waiting for you to say it first.” Because loving Jack was one of the most dangerous things she’d ever done, and she wouldn’t speak it into existence until he did.
His smirk teased at the corners of his mouth, like he could already taste the declaration she wanted so badly, and savored it himself.
Then he murmured, “I love you.” His voice was velvet soft as he gave her these beautiful words for the very first time.
He brought his face closer, his lips brushing hers as his eyes closed and he said it again.
“I love you, Cecily.” He captured her mouth, kissed her gently, surrounding and imbuing her with heat.
“I’ve loved you from the third day I knew you, when I saw blood on your teeth and realized you’d just sunk them into my wicked heart.
The more you challenged me, the more you argued with me, I only loved you more and more, and I couldn’t stop it.
I didn’t want to, even when you claimed to hate me. ”
The words settled in her chest, wrapped around her heart, and buried deep in her bones. It had been far longer than she suspected.
“I chased you because I love you,” he went on, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I married you because I love you.” A kiss to her nose. “And when you were lost, I would have stayed in Tortuga until I found you, because I love you.” A final kiss on her other cheek.