Open Waters (5 page)

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Authors: Valerie Mores

Tags: #Lesbian romance, historical

BOOK: Open Waters
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"That does not concern you," Jane stated, her tone warning. She didn't mind talking to Cecily: the probing questions, the inane chatter, and the snarky comments. In fact, she secretly enjoyed it, but this time she did not like where this conversation was going. It was tip-toeing the line of her past, and she had never disclosed that information to anyone, and was sure as hell not going to start now.

"It's wha' I strive for," Cecily continued, ignoring Jane's comment, "even in the smallest quantities."

Jane glanced over then, Cecily's words having intrigued her. A whore in control, that was unheard of. They were women who did as they were told and nothing more. They were owned by those who used them, completely and without question. But from the way Cecily spoke, Jane could tell she was talking about keeping a hold of the control she currently had and not gaining control. Curiosity sparked in Jane, causing her to throw her fear of the conversation out the window in order to learn more about this strange woman. "How so?"

Cecily sighed. "It makes me feel like I have a choice, like I'm not completely at the mercy of others. I choose who I flaunt myself for, I choose who gets ta have me for the night." The memory of Cecily shoving at Cooksley flashed across Jane's mind. She hadn't chosen him and had therefore refused his advances, unlike Worth, whom she had made advances toward. "It makes it feel like I chose this life, instead of the other way aroun'."

"Didn't you?"

"No, not really. I ran away from home a week before I turned of age. My father had arranged for me ta get married ta this wretched man twenty years my senior and well, tha' wasn't my idea of a good match," Cecily stated with a shrug, like that was the most logical thing in the world, a woman with a mind of her own. "So I left."

And suddenly, without having been told, Jane knew exactly how Cecily had ended up in the profession she was in. It was a story that was all too familiar, all too close to home.

Cecily sighed into the silence before continuing, "Not much else for a woman with no money ta her name nor husband ta speak of, besides," she paused, gesturing at herself, "this."

Jane nodded in understanding. "If I hadn't found the
Tantibus
, we might have met a bit earlier," she stated, before she could change her mind. It was the first time she had ever given away a hint of her past to anyone. "But fate led me down a different path." She glanced around her quarters, her mind journeying to the past, and when she had first been brought to this very room, a day after she had stowed away and minutes after being found in the cargo hold. Little did she know then that this very ship, this very room, was to become her home.

"Ya?" And the sound of laughter soon filled the chambers. Jane frowned.

"I'm sorry," Cecily apologized when she had calmed down somewhat, wiping tears from her eyes. "I just can't see ya in my position, bossin' the men aroun' and slappin' their hands away as ya threaten ta 'wash the floor in their blood' if they so much as touch ya where ya don't desire."

And Jane, too, found herself laughing at the mental image, despite the dark humor and rawness of it.

"Obviously, I was unable to see myself in that position either," Jane stated, the smile slowly falling from her face as she realized what she had just said.

"Ya… ya've never laid with anyone?"

"No," Jane cut her off a little too harshly, coming to her senses and stopping the conversation before it could venture further down that path. Her hand automatically reached for the ring still nestled against her breast. Yes, she had hinted at her past to Cecily, opened up more to someone who she had known for only a few days than she had to any she had known for years, but that didn't mean she was ready to rip open that painful and bloody wound she called her past. And she might never be ready.

"But tha' ring?" Cecily continued, and Jane immediately tensed. "The one ya always wear aroun' ya neck—"

"Is none of your business," Jane snapped, effectively halting the conversation.

Cecily fell silent there, sensing Jane's refusal to speak more on the topic. After a moment, she extracted herself from the bed and padded over to her corner, lying down amidst the nest of sheets and pillows she had collected over the days and shut her eyes.

Jane released a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding and followed suit, stripping off her outer layers and crawling under the covers.

But her mind refused to let her sleep until it had had the last word. This woman had gotten under her skin and left her mark, despite Jane's resistance and barriers to keep her out.

Just her luck.

*~*~*

After their conversation on control, Jane let up on her tight rein on Cecily. The following day, she left the door open, a clear invitation for her to wander about and explore the ship. Though she had warned Cecily that despite her threats and warnings to her crew, some may still try to proposition her or force her. Cecily had just shrugged it off.

And now Jane understood why.

A week had passed since Cecily had come aboard, four days since she had been free to move about the deck, and she—although annoyingly curious about the workings and every aspect the ship and life at sea—had yet to leave Jane's sight. And Jane wasn't stupid to think she was doing it without purpose.

For every time Cecily caught Jane looking at her, her promiscuous persona would come back full force. Her hips would sway and her posture would straighten, inviting all who gazed upon her to look their fill. And the way Jane's men stared at her, like she was a feast and they were all starving, made Jane want to lock her back up so no other could look at her in such a way. And she hated it, hated the way Cecily made her feel, even though she still didn't quite understand what these emotions and feelings meant. All she knew is that they were tearing down her walls and leaving her vulnerable.

"Ya do realize he wants ya gone?" Cecily questioned on the eighth day, coming up beside Jane after a particularly tiresome argument with Cooksley. The man, it seemed, was becoming more and more troublesome ever since the raid, arguing with her over every decision and growling about her inability to run a ship when he thought she wasn't listening.

Jane nodded, as she watched Cooksley berate one of the new recruits on his ability to swab the deck. "Yes, I know."

"And yet, ya do nothin' about it?"

"What can I do?" Jane questioned, not taking her eyes off the belligerent man. "Maroon him? On what grounds? I can't just leave one of my men to die without probable cause." Jane saw Cecily open her mouth, no doubt to argue that point, but she quickly beat her to it. "And 'being an ass' is not a good enough reason."

"He's no ass." Cecily chuckled. "Asses are helpful and hardworkin' and do as they are told. Tha' man's a pinch-faced shabbaroon."

Jane let out a bark of a laugh. "A shabbaroon?"

Cecily furrowed her brow in consideration before shrugging. "Not sure wha' it means, ta be honest. Mr. Hadley used that word ta describe his business partner the couple of times he came ta see me." Cecily paused there, as though lost in thought. "But based off the relations of those two, I feel tha' word best describes Mr. Cooksley there."

The smile that brought to Jane's face returned every time she laid eyes on Cooksley the rest of the day.

*~*~*

"How old are ya?" Cecily asked that night, as she idly played with one of the many navigation instruments laid out upon the table. It wasn't a strange question, if Jane was to be honest. Cecily had been getting bolder and bolder with her questions, sometimes getting so personal that Jane would snap at her and the room would fall into uncomfortable silence. By now, she no doubt knew Jane's limit and how much she was willing to answer, and yet, she still constantly pushed. As much as it made Jane angry, she could also feel it slowly pushing her limit further back.

"Just about twenty-six now," she answered from where she was lying atop the bed. It dawned on her then that they had switched positions. It was usually Cecily who laid claim to the bed in the hours before sleep overruled Jane's duties and she kicked her out. She found herself missing it, knowing that as she fell asleep tonight, the impression and warmth usually left on the other side of the bed would not be present.

Jane heard Cecily mumble something, bringing her back to the conversation. "What did you say?"

"Nothin'," Cecily sighed, but Jane could hear the smile in her voice. "Just talkin' ta myself."

"Be careful with that, or I may just have to lock you up on charges of insanity," Jane cautioned with false warning. "Or witchcraft. I heard that's a popular one nowadays."

Cecily chuckled, glancing at Jane and wiggling her fingers at her in what she took to be a magical gesture. Jane just snorted.

Her amusement soon turned into a yawn, though.

"I guess tha's my cue then," Cecily said before trailing off into a yawn herself as she got up from the chair. Jane closed her eyes, listening to the comforting sound of Cecily's soft footsteps as she padded across the chambers.

She had never thought that after all that had happened to her, all that she had gone through and all that she had lost, that she would be able to let another in. And yet, she found herself helpless to resist Cecily. Cecily had wormed her way into her heart and made a home there. It was frightening, and yes, Jane knew it made her vulnerable, but she couldn't help it. She had tried so hard to deny what she felt for her, to remain detached and unemotional, but it had been a losing battle from the second Jane had laid eyes on her. Not that it would matter. The day after tomorrow, they would reach Port Galtry and Cecily would disappear from her life as though she had never been there. Just like her family, like Thomas.

Jane was broken out of her musing as the footsteps switched direction and approached the bed. The sweet smell that was solely Cecily became slightly more pungent as the footsteps paused by the edge of the bed. Jane cracked open her eyes, barely catching a glimpse of Cecily's cocky smile before warm, soft lips met her own. Jane tensed, eyes going wide, completely caught off-guard. She didn't move, didn't even breathe, the shock holding her in place. But then, it was over before her brain worked out what had happened.

"Goodnight,
Cap'ain
," Cecily purred in her ear, the tone of the title sounding strange and foreign coming from the woman's lips, even though it was laced with her usual sarcasm. Then Cecily turned toward her corner of the room, hips swaying confidently.

Jane wasn't sure what made her do it, was probably not even in her right mind. Her hand shot out before Cecily could get far, grasping her wrist lightly, but with intent.

"Stay," was all she said.

And Cecily did.

*~*~*

Suffice to say they did not, in fact, stop at Port Galtry. Cecily had downright refused to be dropped off like last week's garbage upon the deck and would argue with Jane every time she brought it up.

"The sea is no place for you," Jane stated as Cecily glared daggers at her, the cool, salty wind ruffling her hair as they faced off on the quarter deck. "Just being aboard, you are putting your life at risk."

Cecily raised her eyebrows at that, crossing her arms in anger. "Oh, and whose fault is tha'? I wouldn't even be on board if it weren't for ya!"

A chuckle sounded from behind her, the owner trying to stifle the sound, but ultimately being unsuccessful. She didn't even have to turn around to know who it was. She had seen Worth's amusement at their antics toward one another as the days passed.

"No, you'd be at the bottom of the sea," Jane said, ignoring Worth.

"Where ya could very well be not a day from now," Cecily quickly countered. "I'm. Not. Leavin'."

A handful of heated words later, Jane had reluctantly relented. And if she was to be honest with herself, she was relieved. Jane had grown quite fond of Cecily. More than fond, as Cecily liked to say, but that was a matter of opinion.

"I am not," Jane denied a day later, when Cecily brought up her fondness of her again. They were sprawled on Jane's bed, Cecily's head pillowed on her chest, her fingers idly running down Jane's arm, leaving goose bumps in their wake. It wasn't until after the first night, letting Cecily sleep beside her and in her arms, getting drunk off her scent, that Jane realized how completely starved for touch she was. She felt like a fish that had been without water and finally dumped back into the ocean. And even though all they had done was sleep, it was more than Jane had ever hoped for.

"Ya are, and I ya."

Jane grunted at the proclamation, but didn't make any move to deny it. It was true, after all. She had finally come to realize that. All these years she had spent traveling the ocean, trying to find the next thing, the next adventure and treasure that would fill the hole in her. But perhaps she had been, and still was, chasing the wrong thing. Perhaps all those years she had closed herself off, bottled herself up, and built a wall around her heart in order to prevent ever feeling loss again, when all she needed to do was let one person in and let herself open up and be opened up by someone.

Or perhaps, just this someone.

 "Like a lion, ya are," Cecily continued, tilting her head up and looking at Jane. She reached a hand up, running her fingers through Jane's sun-ripened hair, letting the unruly curls wash over the digits. "Golden mane and all."

Jane snorted with amusement, wondering where on earth Cecily came up with these ridiculous thoughts. "I am no lion."

Cecily frowned in disapproval. "No, ya are right," she conceded, and Jane raised her eyebrows at the unexpected agreement, but Cecily just ignored her and continued on. "Lions are lazy, overbearin', and well, male. Ya are much more than tha'. Fierce, strong, protective. A lioness. My lioness."

Jane let out a laugh to cover up the swelling of emotion she felt in her chest and the heat that was no doubt coloring her cheeks. Despite the little time they had known each other, Jane had discovered that it wasn't often that Cecily got endearing and sentimental, and that she was to enjoy it when it did.

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