A Magical Regency Christmas

by Elizabeth Rolls

  ‘Come in, lass.’

  Her teeth nipped at her lip. She hesitated, her eyes meeting his again.

  Further along the deck there was the creaking sound of the deck hatch being opened and the thud of footsteps coming down the ladder.

  He reached for her hand and pulled her inside.

  * * *

  The door was hard against Sarah’s spine, Daniel, close before her, his hand still warm around hers so that she could feel the little rough scar on his thumb. She opened her mouth to speak, but he touched a finger to her lips to hush the words.

  Two sets of footsteps passed by outside his cabin. A voice recognisable as young Oakley complained that he was starving.

  Sarah stood frozen where she was, her lips burning beneath his touch.

  It seemed they stood that way for ever, so close that she could smell the intoxicating scent of him, so close that she could see each lash that lined his eyes and feel the brush of her breasts against his chest with every breath. At last the footsteps and voices disappeared into the distance. A door slammed.

  His finger dropped away.

  Neither of them moved, just stood as they were, looking into each other’s eyes. The lantern trembled where it hung in her free hand, casting shadows to flicker and dance upon the chiselled planes of his face.

  He took the lantern from her and set it upon the shelf.

  Nerves wriggled and danced in her stomach. The enormity of what she was doing and all that it meant hit her. ‘Oh, Lord! I’ve never done this before. I should go.’

  But he caught her hand in his. ‘Stay. Please.’ The Highland lilt was so soft and beneath it she heard a depth of emotion and need that matched her own. He stroked a hand against her cheek and she could smell the scent of cold air and tar and soap from his skin.

  ‘It turns out I am the sort of woman who knocks on a strange gentleman’s cabin door in the night.’

  He smiled, and so did she.

  ‘Sarah.’ He took her face gently between both his hands and kissed her. His lips were everything that she had imagined—warm and tender and giving, nothing like Robert’s, nothing like Brandon Taverner’s. He kissed her and her heart overflowed with love for him.

  Beneath the flat press of her palms against the linen of his shirt she could feel the beat of his heart, strong and steady as the man himself.

  He kissed her and it felt like all the broken parts fixed back together, that all her insecurities, all her fears and worries paled to nothing. He made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world and he, the only man. All the shadows and darkness of the past faded and there was only light. Their lips met again and again, sharing, giving and taking in equal measure. It was as if she had waited all of her life for this moment, for this man, as if this had always been destined to happen between them. There was no one beside him. He was the one, she thought. The only one.

  Her hair tumbled loose around her shoulders and she was not aware that he had unpinned it. He slid his fingers through its lengths, bunching them against her scalp, angling her face to his, kissing her all the more.

  She skimmed her hands over his shirt, gliding them around to reach his back, feeling the ripple of the muscles beneath. He was lean and hard and strong. She clutched him closer to her, feeling the echo of his heart against her own.

  Their tongues danced together, their mouths inviting deeper intimacies.

  Her shawls were gone. His hands stroked over her shoulders, over her back, against the curve of her hips, over her buttocks. Low in her belly the heat flared hotter. She melted against him, pressing herself to him and all of his masculinity, acknowledging that she had wanted him from that first day on deck. She wanted him as a man, as a lover. She more than wanted him, she needed him, in a way she had never needed before.

  She pulled his shirt free from his breeches and slid her fingers beneath the linen, sighing with the relief of touching his naked skin at last. He was so big, so strong, so warm. She traced her fingers over the hardness of his chest, down over his stomach and abdomen, feeling the ribs of muscle contract beneath her touch. All that power and yet there was nothing of brutality in him, nothing of greed or the rush to satisfy only himself. He wooed her with such gentle enticing persuasion.

  It was only when he unfastened the buttons of her dress, sliding it down to land, with a soft rumple of wool, upon the deck that she began to tremble. What if he, too, did not want her when he saw her? But she forced the thought away and turned her back for him to unlace her stays, catching them before they fell away and hanging them over the chair back. Standing there before him clad only in the thin shift that revealed too much, the trembling had advanced to a blatant shivering and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She wrapped her arms around herself, knowing hers was a body that had made a husband seek other beds.

  ‘You are cold.’

  ‘A little.’ But it was not the cold that was making her shake.

  ‘Then let me warm you.’

  He came to her and wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again with such passion, such desire, caressing her breasts, stroking her hips, revering her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world. He chased the chill from the night air, made her forget her embarrassment. She was aware only of him and her need for him. He made her burn. He made her ache and throb for his long hard length that pressed against her belly. She wanted him in her, filling her.

  ‘Daniel,’ she pleaded.

  He stripped off his clothes and, scooping her up into his arms as if she were small and light as a child, carried her to his cot to place her beneath the blankets.

  She loosed the tie of her shift, pulled the thin linen over her head and dropped it to the deck.

  He climbed in beside her, the lantern light revealing her nakedness as he did so. He stilled, his gaze sweeping with appreciation over her breasts, over her stomach.

  ‘God, lass, you’re beautiful!’ His fingers traced the path his eyes had led before his body moved to cover hers. His eyes smouldered dark with desire and his smile was both teasing and sensual. ‘But I’m supposed to be warming you.’

  He took her mouth again, harder this time, with a hunger that matched her own. He kissed her chin, trailed kisses all the way down her neck to her breasts, taking her fully in his mouth, to work a magic with his tongue, while his hands caressed her waist, her belly, her hips, working ever closer to the place between her thighs. Until he reached his destination.

  She gasped aloud, threading her fingers through his hair, arching into him all the more.

  Daniel did things to her that no man ever had. He made her feel things she had never felt. He made her gasp and moan and beg. Pushed her body and mind to a place high in another world where she shattered in an explosion of blinding unbelievable pleasure, before he entered her, as he made her truly his own, and again.

  He loved her with everything he was. And she loved him.

  And afterwards he held her in his arms and stroked her cheek and dropped a tender kiss to her forehead. And she took his hand and kissed the crescent scar that marked the pad of his thumb.

  They both knew that what had just happened between them was more than a bedding, so much more than coupling.

  It was a sharing of souls, a union that could never be undone.

  It was love.

  * * *

  Daniel found Sarah in the galley the next morning, with her niece and maid. It looked like Fanny was teaching them how to make bread. All three were wearing long white aprons over their dresses and stood busy kneading dough.

  It was the first time he had seen her since returning her to her own cabin in the wee small hours of the morning. Last night had been nothing of dishonour. He could no more have turned her away than stopped breathing. And what they had shared... God help him! Why the hell did it have to happen
now? Of all the worst bloody timings in the world!

  ‘Mr Alexander,’ she said and he saw the flush of pleasure that touched to her cheeks, the way her beautiful dark eyes sparkled, and the smile that curved her mouth, shy from the intimacies that had passed between them. And there was both an agony in his heart and a dread of what was coming.

  ‘Mrs Ellison, Miss Bowden.’ He could not take his eyes from Sarah’s, could not smile in return. ‘A ship has been sighted.’

  Imelda clapped her hands and yelped with excitement.

  But Sarah knew. The smile faltered upon her lips, even as she wiped her floury hands on her apron and forced it back into place. ‘That is good news.’

  ‘Can we go up and see? Please, Aunt Sarah, please!’

  ‘Fetch your cloak first.’

  ‘Ohh, Aunt Sarah!’ the bairn grumbled.

  ‘Do as your aunt says, then go on up on deck with Fanny. We will follow on shortly.’

  ‘Yes, Captain Alexander!’ Imelda gave a whoop of delight and ran off across the galley, leaving the maid to hurry after her.

  The galley door banged shut. The patter of small footsteps faded to the distance.

  He took Sarah’s hands in his own.

  ‘The ship is good news, is it not, Daniel?’

  ‘Of course it is.’ For the Angel and her crew. For Sarah, Imelda and Fanny. But not for him.

  ‘Then what is wrong?’

  ‘Probably nothing,’ he lied. Given the Angel’s location the probability was stacked against him. He knew too well the frigates that patrolled this area, and one more so than the others. There was no time. The minutes were counting down and even were they not, he could not tell her.

  ‘There is a favour I must ask of you, Sarah.’

  ‘Anything.’ The level of her trust flayed him. After all she had been through. She trusted him, just as he trusted her—with his life and more.

  He would have given much not to have to do this, to wipe the worry from her face and have her smile at him again as she had done only moments ago. But too much was at stake. He had to ask her.

  ‘Sarah... If something happens to me and we cannot finish this journey together...’ He produced the letter from the pocket of his coat. ‘Take it. Keep it hidden. Tell no one. As soon as you reach England send it on to whom it is addressed.’

  ‘What do you mean “if something happens to you”?’ She stared up into his face, her eyes wide with concern.

  ‘There is no time to explain. Please, Sarah, will you do this?’

  ‘Of course.’ She accepted the letter and hid it within her own pocket.

  ‘Swear it. For the sake of all that is between us.’

  ‘Daniel...?’

  ‘Swear it, Sarah.’

  ‘I swear.’ Her eyes held his. ‘This is to do with the ship that comes to our rescue, isn’t it?’

  He nodded, knowing what the waves were bringing closer even while he stood here in these last few precious moments with Sarah. There was so little time. He knew what Higgs had told them all. He knew, too, the procedure that would ensue, and that there was nothing he could do to deny it until they got him back to England. And he knew what that was going to do to Sarah. And that knowledge hurt more than everything else that was coming.

  ‘Daniel, why—?’

  But he did not let her finish. Instead, he cupped her face in his hands. ‘Whatever happens, know that what is between us is no lie. In this, at least, I have been honest, I swear with all my heart. I hope you can forgive the rest.’ Forgive him his lies. Forgive the dishonourable scoundrel they would reveal. Forgive him what he was going to have to do if the worst of the possibilities over the ship sailing towards them proved true. He prayed to God it would not come to that, for, even without it, he was asking a lot of a woman who had been betrayed by lies and dishonourable scoundrels in the past. And then his mouth took hers, and he kissed her, knowing that this might be for the very last time. He eased back and studied her face, memorising her every detail. ‘Thank you, Sarah.’

  She took off her apron and rolled down her sleeves.

  Hand in hand, they walked towards the galley door.

  Chapter Six

  The light was bright, causing her to screw her eyes up after the dimness of the lower deck. A weak sun struggled in the winter sky. Men were lining the bulwark on the larboard side of the vessel. Captain Davies and Mr Seymour stood together at the stern.

  Sarah was conscious of Daniel walking behind her, of the letter in her pocket, and, more than anything, of a terrible sense of foreboding.

  ‘There you are, Aunt Sarah, do come and look!’ Imelda shouted and ran towards the stern.

  Sarah and Daniel followed.

  Captain Davies removed the spyglass from his eye to glance round at them. ‘Mrs Ellison, Mr Alexander.’

  Daniel gave a nod in return. The anguish she had seen on his face in the galley was masked, as if it had never been, but she knew it was still there beneath the surface.

  ‘The ship has seen us?’ she asked.

  ‘I believe so,’ said the Captain.

  ‘She is heading directly for us,’ said Daniel quietly.

  Sarah peered at the blur of the vessel on the horizon.

  ‘Is she a pirate ship?’ asked Imelda.

  ‘We shall have to wait and see.’ Daniel smiled, but Sarah could feel the tension that rippled through him just as if it were her own. And that shared feeling was not one of relief or excitement at the prospect of rescue, but dread.

  Imelda beckoned him down to her level so that she might whisper in his ear.

  ‘Imelda, Mr Alexander is busy.’

  ‘Never too busy to speak to Miss Bowden.’ He lowered his head to hear what Imelda wanted to say.

  ‘If they are pirates, you will protect Aunt Sarah, Fanny and me, won’t you?’

  ‘You’ve no need to worry, lass. I’d lay down my life to protect you ladies.’ His eyes moved briefly to Sarah’s and there was so much intensity and emotion in them that it took her breath away and made her all the more frightened of what the closing ship might be bringing other than rescue.

  Imelda nodded her approval and came to stand at Sarah’s side.

  ‘Praise be to God!’ exclaimed Captain Davies. ‘She’s a frigate of the line, flying the ensign.’ He collapsed the spyglass. ‘It seems that this is indeed the time of miracles. First we find Mr Alexander out swimming in the North Atlantic, and now one of His Majesty’s frigates has found us!’

  Daniel showed nothing of relief at the news. ‘May I?’ His voice was relaxed as he held out his hand for the spyglass, but Sarah was not fooled for a minute. His face was a stony mask. He was alert, honed, ready, as if waiting to face an enemy.

  One of His Majesty’s frigates. Captain Davies’s words echoed in her mind. Surely the fact that it was a Royal Navy ship should allay his concerns, shouldn’t it?

  Daniel held the spyglass to his eye and studied the distant frigate. She saw his jaw tighten, saw the flair of his nostrils, saw the way his eyes closed. It was the thing he had feared. Her stomach clenched with the certainty of it even before his eyes sought hers across the small distance.

  ‘Ladies,’ exclaimed Captain Davies, ‘and gentlemen, we are saved!’

  All across the deck the men broke into spontaneous applause and cheered at the captain’s words.

  Daniel did not cheer. He stood stock-still, grim-faced, his eyes on hers as he spoke the quiet words, ‘Remember the letter, Sarah, and all we have sworn. I love you, lass, for all that it will appear otherwise.’ And then he turned away, leaving Sarah standing there reeling.

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later HMS Viper drew alongside the tiny Angel’s larboard. She was indeed a British frigate, thirty-eight guns, built of solid English oak and
painted in the familiar yellow and black of Nelson’s chequerboard.

  Her jolly boat was lowered and a small party of uniformed men rowed across to the Angel. Daniel did not need to see the men’s faces to know who they were and what was coming. The worst of his nightmares. The worst of Sarah’s too, although she did not yet know it.

  He watched the boat rowing closer, watched the men clamber up the boarding ladders and on to the Angel’s deck. And all he could think of was Sarah.

  Davies hurried to greet the boarding party and Viper’s captain that led them. Higgs shook Davies’s hand, one captain to another, his eyes surveying what remained of the Angel as they spoke.

  Daniel stood where he was at the stern, everything in his body language distancing himself from the woman he had spent the night loving. Higgs’s gaze dropped from the damaged mast, passed briefly over Daniel, and moved on. Then what Higgs had just seen hit him. He froze, jerked his eyes back to Daniel, and then made his way slowly over.

  ‘Captain Higgs, this is Mr Alexander, Angel’s passenger.’ It was Davies who made the unnecessary introduction. ‘Although it is the most unlikely of stories how he came to be so.’

  ‘I am sure that it is.’ Higgs smiled, but his eyes were sly with menace.

  ‘We found him in the ocean, nigh on dead. Indeed, he would have been were it not for the fortuitous arrival of the Angel and Mrs Ellison, here’s, keen eyes.’

  ‘Fortuitous, indeed.’ Higgs glanced at Sarah, noticing her for the first time. ‘Mrs Ellison.’ He bowed.

  ‘Captain Higgs.’ She curtsied.

  ‘You have done your country a great service, ma’am.’

  ‘How so, sir?’ She shot a confused glance at Daniel.

  ‘You see, Captain Daniel Alexander and I are already acquainted.’

  There was silence across the deck.

  ‘Captain Alexander?’ he heard Sarah echo faintly, but he ignored her as if she were nothing more than a stranger. That tiny moment seemed to stretch and in it he heard the gentle hush of the ocean and the beat of his own heart.