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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