by Linda Skye
Well, that was a misconception that just begged to be corrected.
Setting his jaw, Rawden stalked over to the bed and sat on the edge. Lifting the corner of the blankets, he slid under the warm sheets and lay down. As soon as his bare skin touched hers, he felt her stiffen. He smirked and slid even closer.
“A gentleman would take the floor.”
Her voice was clear and sharp, untainted by sleep.
“I am not a gentleman.”
Juliana let out a low growl and scooted to the far edge of the bed, wrapping the sheets around her like a protective cocoon.
“Now, now,” Rawden crooned, edging closer. “You were so…amiable before. And we are to be bedmates for a while, after all.”
His hands slid over her curves under the covers, his rough skin sending prickles of pleasure through her body. Juliana tensed as he hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her back into his warm chest, his hands smoothing over the flimsy shirt she had thrown on as a substitute for proper nightclothes. He began to rub slow, sensual circles over her slim limbs with his calloused palms, and Juliana felt her muscles yield to the exquisite pressure. His warm breath tickled her ear as his hands trailed lower, and Juliana bit back a sigh, her fingers twisting in the sheets. Almost lost in a fog of warm and budding desire, Juliana felt the insistent tug of caution at the edges of her mind.
No, she thought hazily, this isn’t right.
How did the pirate see her? As a meal ticket. A luscious treat to be had in his cabin. A wanton woman who needed him—needed his ship, needed his help, needed his protection—and needed his affection?
Her mind at odds with her body, Juliana tried to reason through her conundrum. She couldn’t let him control that one last bit of leverage she had over him or she would be completely at his mercy. She had to seduce him and not the other way around.
Rawden’s fingers dipped lower. And when they skated down the length of her inner thigh, Juliana felt a jolt of pleasure that shocked her into action. She pulled away suddenly, rolling away so that she faced him in the dark.
“Stop it,” she panted, curling her fingers around the coverlet and pulling it close to her chin.
Rawden raised an eyebrow and met her eyes, which were luminous in the half light.
“Don’t be coy,” he urged, reaching a hand out to her.
“No!” she cried out. Using her very last trump card, she whispered pitiably, “You’ll ruin me.”
Rawden froze and stared, slowly retracting his hand. Cursing, he rolled away and pulled the covers over his bare chest. Juliana watched his hulking form in the dark and gradually edged even further away. She could practically feel his unspent desire building into tense frustration.
There, she thought triumphantly, now you want me. Once again, she had gained the upper hand.
Chapter 5
Most Britons wanted a bit of snow around the Yuletide season—if only to watch the large, heavy snowflakes drift down from the sky. But sailors hated the blanket of ice and snow that turned the decks into deadly ice rinks and churned the waves angrily.
Sailing had been miserable all day, and the gale-force winds had only died down once they were nearing Portsmouth harbour. Rawden had been wrestling with the wheel for hours on end, barking orders to his exhausted crew and cursing the tumultuous waves.
Even so, his thoughts had managed to stray to the vixen residing in his room. He doubted she’d been much perturbed by the inclement sailing conditions. Recalling her ease in swimming and her steady footing on the ship, he reckoned she’d spent quite a bit of time at sea. He’d even glimpsed lines of green and black on her shoulder—a tattoo? What decent young lass had a tattoo? He began to suspect that her father had been more than just a man holding a legendary map; could her father have been a pirate? That would explain how she knew Captain Elijah Hawkins, and how she could face his kind so fiercely and fearlessly.
And yet…
Her voice was so velvety and sweet—not roughened by the salty sea air. Her manner of speech was elegant and smooth—not crass from a life lived in taverns and brothels. And her skin smelt of roses and peaches—and was just as soft to the touch and sweet on the tongue. Just thinking about having his hands and lips on her body was enough to send Rawden into a dizzying state of desire, his very skin tingling with need.
He was hungry—and not just for food.
So, when he finally managed to leave the upper deck, he made a brief stop at the galley before striding impatiently back to his quarters, a tray of food on his arm. He pushed his way into his cabin, kicking the door closed behind him. Then he stopped abruptly, his eyes transfixed on the vision waiting for him.
Juliana was standing with her back to a floor-length mirror. In one hand, she held up a priceless, ornately fashioned hand mirror. Her head was tilted back as she studied the reflection, her long curls cascading over one shoulder. She was wearing nothing but one of his white shirts, the buttons undone. It hung loosely from her elbows, and Rawden caught a glimpse of her back in the tall mirror before she stepped away. He registered more ink lines in blue and green, but quickly dismissed the observation in favour of watching her glide toward him. She pulled the shirt up to cover her shoulders and only bothered to close the bottom few buttons, leaving a long line of creamy skin down to her navel open to his greedy eyes. She swayed over to the large wooden table and carefully set down the mirror, leaning to rest her hip against the table’s edge. His shirt’s bottom hem just barely covered her bottom, gently grazing the top of her thighs. She cocked her head to one side, watching him expectantly.
“Hungry?” Rawden asked, his throat suddenly dry.
He set his tray—which had nearly been forgotten—on the table. Then he pulled out a chair. Juliana smiled. Her eyes never leaving his, she stepped close and ran a finger from his temple to his chin.
“How considerate of you,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his stubbled chin.
Rawden swallowed. Just moments ago, he had imagined himself as the dominant one, intent on ravishing her after two quick bites of food. But now… now it seemed that she had caught him in a web of feminine charm he had never experienced before—and she knew it.
Juliana’s eyes gleamed as she watched Rawden go rigid with want. She had him just where she needed him to be for her plan to work—completely enamoured with her. But as she gently pushed his damp overcoat from his shoulders, she wondered if she had already fallen for him as well.
No matter, she thought as she admired his broad shoulders. It was far too late to back out now.
Juliana took him by the collar of his shirt and gently pushed him into sitting in the chair he had just pulled out for her. He began to protest, and she smiled at his apparent show of chivalry, her heart warming to her cocky pirate captain. Confidence in her choice grew.
“I’m cold,” Juliana purred, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Don’t make me sit alone.”
With that she eased herself into sitting across his knees, revelling in the feel of his hard, corded muscles under her thighs. Rawden immediately placed his hand at the small of her back for support.
“So,” she asked conversationally. “What have you brought us to eat? I’m absolutely starving.”
“You’re lucky,” Rawden said, his eyes drifting to her exposed legs. “We were just in port so the food hasn’t had a chance to go rotten yet.”
Juliana surveyed the tray. There were two bows of steaming meat stew, a few hardtack biscuits, a couple of pieces of fruit and two small mugs of hot rum. It smelled delicious. Her stomach rumbled, and Rawden chuckled.
“I haven’t had a meal in half a day,” Juliana huffed. “And I can’t eat the gold stashed in this cabin.”
“True,” Rawden said, dragging the tray closer. “So eat up. We are almost in Portsmouth.”
Juliana began to delicately lift spoonfuls of the hearty stew to her lips, carefully savouring each bite. Rawden reached around her to dip into his own bowl, amusedly watching her dainty way
of eating. When both bowls were scraped clean, Rawden grabbed one of the apples. With his arms still around her, he began to cut the apple into slices. Then, with a teasing smile, he offered her one of the slices, holding it in front of her. Juliana took the crisp slice in her mouth, suggestively sliding her lips over it before taking it with her teeth. While she chewed, she selected another slice and offered to him. She giggled as he took the whole piece in one bite, his teeth lightly grazing her fingertip.
Rawden tightened his arm around her waist and leaned in, nosing his way forward until their lips touched. But unlike before, this kiss was languid, slow and deliberate. With the taste of fresh apples still on their tongues, they indulged in each other, feeling every nuance of lips, tongue and teeth. The orange glow of the fire warmed their skin, and they engaged in a slow exploration of each other’s bodies. Hands sliding up limbs, fingers tangling in hair and sighs escaping moist lips. They hadn’t even realised how much time had passed or how closely they were twined around one another—until there was another loud rapping at the door.
Rawden dropped his forehead onto Juliana’s shoulder.
“Not again,” he groaned.
The knocking came again.
“What?” Rawden shouted, exasperated.
“We are docking in Portsmouth harbour, Captain.”
“Fine, fine,” he answered with a drawn-out sigh. “We’ve arrived at your first stop. Shall we go, my lady?”
Juliana offered him an apologetic shrug and stood reluctantly.
“I suppose we should,” she said with a rueful smile.
She walked over to the fireplace and carefully pulled her dress from the mantle, where it had been hanging to dry. To Rawden’s surprise, she spun around to face him before dropping his shirt to the floor, giving him a quick glimpse of her naked body before she pulled on her high-waisted evening dress.
“It’s cold,” she said, grinning at the way he had dropped his jaw. “May I trouble you for a cloak?”
He wordlessly grabbed a heavy, hooded cloak from a trunk while she rummaged through his things for some semblance of small footwear. Finding a worn pair of slim leather boots—which looked as if they were from his childhood—she pulled them on and laced them up. When she stood, he draped the cloak over her shoulders. Juliana pulled the wide hood over her head and took his proffered arm. Together, they stepped out onto the deck and headed for the gangway.
“Will I need to take my men?” Rawden asked.
“I’m sure you can handle me on your own,” Juliana quipped lightly as she nimbly skipped down the ramp.
Rawden raised a brow but followed her lead as she marched straight into the roughest borough of Portsmouth. With Christmas only a few days away, even this dimly lit neighbourhood was awash with festive trimmings. Holly boughs and brightly coloured lanterns adored the doorways and window sills of many a public house. And there were even a few drunken revellers singing traditional Christmas carols in the streets.
Juliana walked purposefully through the sludgy streets, her eyes fixed on some unknown goal. Then without batting an eye, she pulled them into the seediest tavern of them all.
It took Rawden a minute to adjust his eyes to the dimly lit pub. It was crowded and dark, crammed full of burly men hunched over rickety tables. No one seemed to notice their entrance, however—it seemed the tavern’s patrons were already far too drunk to even lift their heads. Juliana quickly scanned the room. Her hand tightened on his arm before she slipped away toward a dark corner booth.
“Wait for me here,” she instructed him quietly as she glided effortlessly through the boozy throng.
Huffing, Rawden eased himself into leaning against the doorpost, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trained on Juliana. His overlarge cloak seemed the perfect camouflage for his stunning protégée. Her golden tresses were completely hidden, and the bulky material obscured her feminine form. He watched as Juliana slid into a shadowy corner booth at the other end of the room. A man leaned forward to greet her, his expression relieved. He was handsome in an older, dignified way, with silver hair at his temples and wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. As they began to talk, the man fervently clasped both her hands between his.
Rawden stood straighter. He’d guessed that she had planned to meet someone in the tavern—probably some business associate—but she was meeting a man who was acting much too friendly for his taste.
For her part, Juliana gently extricated her hands from the man’s grasp and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Rawden could not hear their conversation, nor see Juliana’s face because of her hood, but he could very clearly see worry etched into her companion’s handsome face. Juliana’s slender hand reached out to pat his, her head bobbing underneath the voluminous hood. The man gripped her fingers tightly, his expression ardent as he leaned in. Rawden frowned. This was no ordinary business meeting.
He pushed away from the door frame, intent on stalking over to the booth to find out exactly what was going on. Was he a friend? A lover? An accomplice?
But before he could take two steps, Juliana had risen from her seat. Though the man looked longingly up at her, she only patted his shoulder before turning away. She wove her way back through the crowd, pausing to touch Rawden’s elbow and then turning to the door.
“Let’s go,” she whispered urgently.
Rawden remained rooted to the spot.
“You two seemed cozy,” he commented blandly.
A line appeared between her brows.
“So?”
“He looked a bit old for you, don’t you think?”
Juliana looked up at him, her blue eyes flashing. Rawden stared back down at her, stone-faced.
“Yes, he is a bit old for me,” she retorted sharply.
“So then, you’re stringing him along?”
Juliana stepped back, momentarily stung by his words and the bitterness in his green eyes. A spark of bitter anger took root in her heart.
“Aren’t you doing the same to me? In any case, what business is it of yours?” she blurted before she could check herself. “I’m paying you to be my bodyguard, not my conscience.”
Rawden’s face went blank, his eyes shuttering all emotion.
“Indeed,” he said tonelessly. “So you are nothing more than a common strumpet after all.”
Rendered speechless, she glared at him, slack-jawed and indignant. She allowed him to take her by the arm and brusquely pull her from the tavern and into the cold night air.
“Minx,” he muttered as he towed her back toward the boat. “Clever little liar.”
The chill in his voice was colder than the biting wind that whipped through the December air. All the Christmas merriment around them did nothing to lighten either of their dark expressions or moods. Juliana fumed silently, occasionally skipping to keep up with his long strides. Confusion thickened her thoughts; she didn’t know why she was so angry—so much so that hot tears stung the corner of her eyes. She shouldn’t be angry at all, she told herself. She shouldn’t even care. Captain Rawden Wood was nothing but a means to an end, a tool to be used.
But still…
His wrongful, caustic accusations had her stewing in offended ire. She wasn’t sure why she was so affected; only that she was—and thus the situation needed to be rectified.
So, just before they reached the gangway to his ship, Juliana wrenched her arm away and spun around to face him, the edges of her cloak flapping in the wind. Throwing back her hood, she jabbed at his sternum with one finger.
“Just what is your problem, Captain?” she demanded furiously.
“My problem?” He barked a short, humourless laugh. “Only that I’ve been taken for a complete fool.”
“What are you on about?” she exclaimed incredulously.
“That old geezer,” he said frostily. “You had him wrapped right around your little finger.”
Juliana nearly stomped a foot in irritation.
“Joffrey? He’s old enough to be my father!”
“Precisely,” Rawden spat. “And yet you still stooped low enough to seduce him.”
“Seduce Joffrey?” Juliana shook her head in frustration. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Rawden snorted and leaned in to say, “You nearly had me fooled too, you know. Your sweet little act almost reeled me in completely. But all this time, and I wasn’t the only one!”
Juliana reeled backward, her eyes wide.
“Now wait just a minute,” she said, her voice dropping to an icy whisper. “You actually think I take Joffrey to my bed?”
Rawden threw his hands in the air.
“Why else would you hold his hand and cozy up to him in a tavern?” he sneered. “I just wonder what deal you made with him!”
Juliana stared, blinking hard. Then she suddenly doubled over, choking in laughter. He was jealous. The thought was at once a source of relief and amusement. Just jealous. And then a realisation hit her—she was happy that he hadn’t truly been disgusted by her, and that somewhere deep inside of him, he wanted her for his own. A second, more important realisation dawned on her then: she wanted him for her own as well.
Rawden looked on, feigning indifference. After a long moment, Juliana straightened, blinking away tears. Then, with a burst of speed, she rose to her tiptoes and grabbed Rawden by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him down so that they were nose to nose.
“Listen closely, you fool,” she said sternly. “Joffrey—that old geezer as you put it—was my father’s first mate. He has been watching out for me since the day I could walk—so no,” she emphasised, “I was not seducing him. I was just telling him about our arrangement and collecting a few important items from him.”
“Like what?” Rawden challenged stubbornly.
“More of your payment, for one. But that’s not what’s important,” Juliana said with a sly smirk. “But there is something you need to understand.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, that’s right. You need to understand that I do need you to take me to the gold. And I do need you to protect me. But I’m not playing you for a fool—because there’s something else I need from you.”
