A Scandalous Regency Christmas

by Christine Merrill/Marguerite Kaye/Annie Burrows/Barbara Monajem/Linda Skye

  But Elijah’s eyes were already sliding to Juliana, who stood half-hidden behind Rawden.

  “Well now,” Elijah said with false affection. “Aren’t you all grown up now, Miss Juliana Wright.”

  Rawden felt Juliana tense and slide even further behind him. She was not even trying to hide her trembling now. Though he certainly understood her fear, such a blatant display of fright surprised him. She had not seemed the type to cower under pressure.

  “Now don’t be rude, young miss,” Elijah chided, his voice dangerously soft. “We were good friends once, you and I. In fact, wasn’t it your father who—”

  Juliana stepped out from behind Rawden suddenly.

  “Don’t you dare speak of my father,” Juliana demanded in a flinty voice, her eyes dancing in anger.

  Rawden’s eyebrows rose slowly. The fine tremors shaking her body hadn’t been the result of fear at all. She’d not been afraid; she had been angry—no, not angry, absolutely furious.

  “There she is,” Elijah said, rocking back on his heels. “I thought you’d become a proper little damsel in distress for a moment. But that never was your style, was it?”

  Juliana’s lips tightened into a thin line, and she simply glared at him silently.

  “I guarantee you won’t be giving me the silent treatment for very long,” Elijah said with a cruel smile. “But it will be easier on all of us if you would just give me the map.”

  Rawden studied Juliana’s stony expression from the corner of his eye. Map, he thought, what map?

  “I won’t.”

  Elijah sighed heavily.

  “I thought you might say that, my dear.”

  He shook his head, imitating regret. He turned to his crew and raised one hand high. While his back was turned, Rawden leaned down to whisper in Juliana’s ear.

  “I hope you can swim,” he breathed quietly.

  Juliana was about to ask what he meant when Elijah’s booming voice rang out again.

  “Shoot Captain Wood and feed him to the fish,” Elijah commanded. “Then strip the girl and tie her to the mast. Have some fun too, while you’re at it!”

  The crew roared with delight as their captain egged them on with more promises of violence. But when Elijah turned back to his captives, he found them near the railing of the ship.

  “Stop them!” he called belatedly.

  But it was too late. With a wink and salute, Rawden jumped overboard with Juliana under one arm. The crew rushed to the edge of the deck and fired blindly into the dark water.

  “Stop, stop you fools!” Elijah raged. “We need the girl alive!”

  But only the faintest sounds of the commotion aboard reached Rawden’s ears. Frigid water sloshed around him as he struggled to free Juliana from her heavy wool cloak. For once, he was happy that he wasn’t carrying a firearm—at least he wouldn’t lose anything to rust! Then, ignoring her sputtering and coughing, he dragged her kicking body through the water.

  “I can swim,” she panted. “Let go!”

  He released her immediately, and she pushed away to tread water. He paused to stare at her pale silhouette as they rose and fell with the swell of the waves.

  “Let’s go,” he said finally.

  “Where?”

  He didn’t answer but turned and began to cut through the water in a strong, elegant front stroke. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Juliana catch up to him with equally skilled strokes. They swam for what seemed an eternity in the chilly water, forcing their muscles to strain against the cold. Rawden muttered curses on his salty lips as he cut through the icy waves. It just had to be wintertime, with the warm lights of Christmas blinking at their back and nothing but bone-chillingly cold water pulling at their heavy limbs. Just perfect. He could have been enjoying a sweet Christmas pudding in his cabin by now if he hadn’t met this confoundedly alluring woman.

  Finally, when the Grey Gull was a mere shadow behind them, a smaller shape emerged from the dark in front of them. It was a small rowboat, manned by two men—one at the bow and one at the stern. As soon as Juliana touched the rough wood with her fingers, she felt herself being hauled aboard. She collapsed at the bottom of the boat in a wet tangle of soaked limbs and cloth. Coughing and shivering, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to revive her numb limbs. She felt Rawden sit on the bench in front of her and heard him bark orders to his men, who began to row immediately. Juliana slowly crawled into sitting on the bench opposite her pirate protector. When she lifted her eyes to his, he was glaring at her with a clenched jaw.

  “Care to explain that to me, little miss?”

  “Explain what?” she asked shortly.

  “This business of a map.”

  “What business is that of yours?”

  He leaned forward, and shook the excess water from his hair with long fingers.

  “Don’t fool yourself into thinking that I’ll blindly endanger my life or the lives of my crew for you, Miss Wright,” Rawden said in clipped tones. “I don’t care what history you seem to have with Captain Elijah Hawkins, but he is a dangerous opponent. And I’ll bet my boat that he’ll come after you again. So you’d better tell me right now—what kind of map do you have that makes you so important to him?”

  Juliana looked away into the darkness, her fingers tightening around her arms until her knuckles were white. Her gaze grew distant as her lashes lowered.

  “There was once a legendary map,” she began softly, “that was hidden in the Royal Navy’s archives.” Her tone took on an almost singsong quality. “It was an ancient map—so old that the paper would crumble into dust if you touched it carelessly. It was so precious that no one knew of it except the highest ranking officers, and they were sworn to secrecy. The map may have even belonged to the great King Arthur. It may have even been penned by Merlin himself.”

  Juliana closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice was hard and cold as stone.

  “My father found this map. And Captain Elijah Hawkins killed him for it.”

  “But your father kept its secret safe.” Rawden’s voice was flat. “And now only you know where the map is.”

  “Only I.”

  For a few long moments, there were no sounds but the lapping of the water against the sides of the dinghy and the grunts of the rowing men. And then Rawden heard something else—the chattering of teeth. With a sigh, he shrugged out of his long coat and reached forward to drape it over the girl’s huddled form.

  “And,” he asked quietly, “what does this map lead to?”

  “Treasure.”

  Rawden gripped the lapels of the coat he’d put on her and pulled her closer. She met his sharp eyes and stared back defiantly.

  “What kind of treasure?”

  She pulled away from his grip, her chin tilted back.

  “Roman gold,” she informed him. “More Roman gold than has ever been found before. And all hidden in secret sea caves.”

  “Where?”

  She glared.

  “Tell me,” Rawden demanded. “Our agreement will still stand.”

  “In Cornwall,” she said in a hushed voice. “Sea caves in Cornwall.”

  Rawden leaned his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers in front of his face. He regarded her calm expression through hooded eyes. His job had just gotten much more complicated. On top of protecting a headstrong lass with more secrets than she cared to share, he would have a bloodthirsty pirate on his tail looking for an unmatched treasure map. He considered her serious face with calculating eyes. She was watching him with guarded hopefulness. His lips spread into a slow smile. He had much to lose—but so much more to gain: his pay in gold and perhaps a cut of the Cornish treasure. Yes, he thought, he would see this adventure to its profitable end.

  “Well,” he said, leaning back with a mild chuckle, “at least now I know the direction we are sailing in.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WHEN JULIANA SET her bare feet aboard the infamous Golden Maiden, s
he knew she was getting a small glimpse of the Golden Age of piracy. Smooth wood gleamed and billowing sails hung from imposing masts. It was a beautifully designed ship.

  And then she felt the stares. All the men—from the burliest swabbie to the scrawniest deck hand—had stopped whatever it was they had been doing to stare, slack-jawed. Juliana’s chest tightened. She recognised the look in their eyes.

  Hungry. Wanting. Waiting.

  Even if they may have once been the most disciplined and steadfast pirate crew in existence, they now resembled a pack of rabid dogs more than anything else. A hand descended heavily on her small shoulder, and she looked up in time to see Rawden level his crew with an uncompromising glare.

  “Listen up,” he boomed thunderously. “This here girl is my guest—so no one touches her but me.”

  A collective cloud of loud grumbling rose from the mean-looking crew.

  “She’s also your meal ticket, you scallywags,” Rawden announced. “She’s leading us to a stash of gold. So no one—and I mean, no one—” he punctuated dangerously “—is to lay a finger on her. Except me.”

  The groaning turned to cheers as Rawden took her by the upper arm and began to drag her away from their leering eyes.

  “Give it all away, will you?” Juliana hissed angrily.

  Rawden hustled her towards the forecastle, and her feet slapped against the deck as she skipped to keep up.

  “You should know it’s important to give them a reason not to hurt you,” Rawden muttered under his breath. “Now where to first, missy?”

  “Portsmouth,” she said without hesitating.

  “Wilkins!” Rawden shouted above the din. “Full sails to Portsmouth harbour.”

  “Aye, aye Captain!”

  And then Rawden pushed her into his quarters, closing the door behind him.

  Juliana padded slowly into the centre of the luxuriously appointed cabin, tossing away his sopping long coat. The room was filled with dark wooden furniture and rich carpets. The cabin was lit by a slow-burning fireplace at the far end. In the centre was an imposing, ancient oak table, and in one corner was a wide, magnificent bed.

  “And I suppose that this is where I’ll be sleeping?” she asked sweetly.

  “This is where we will be sleeping, my darling,” Rawden corrected. “Unless you’d rather take up a cot down below with the crew.”

  “No, thank you,” Juliana said caustically, flipping her dripping hair over one shoulder. “Though your decor is sorely lacking. No Christmas candles, no holly—not even a pine bough to celebrate the season!”

  “Well then,” Rawden returned curtly. “You’ll have to make do with my company.”

  “Why don’t you take up with your crew,” she snapped, hands on hips. “And leave a lady to her private space.”

  “A lady—” he slurred the word “—wouldn’t have taken up with a pirate in the first place.”

  Juliana’s eyes narrowed.

  “So what would you say that I am, then?”

  “Important cargo, perhaps?” Rawden quipped, tapping his chin lightly with a finger. “And for your information, cargo does not move around my ship.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that you are not to leave this cabin—not for anything and not for even an instant—unless I am escorting you,” Rawden commanded sternly.

  “You cannot be serious,” Juliana countered, her voice rising.

  “I assure you that I am.” Rawden shook a finger at her. “You will not venture from these quarters.”

  “Important cargo?” Juliana protested indignantly. “More like a prisoner! I will not be so treated, dear sir!”

  Rawden took a good, long look at her. Her dress was still soaking wet, and the sheer material clung to her curves scandalously. Desire spiked in his gut as he traced the shadowy lines beneath the thin fabric, trailing from her shapely calves up to her flushing shoulders. When his hooded eyes reached her face, he discovered her sweetly blushing despite her angry glare.

  “You are quite the sight for hungry eyes,” he said huskily, his feet moving before he realised it. “Do you even realise what my men would do to you if they caught you alone?”

  “I can protect myself, thank you very much,” she huffed.

  “What? With this?” Rawden asked, his fingers nimbly clamping over her thigh, blocking her access to her only blade. “You’re much too naive, my dear.”

  “I do not like being handled, Captain Wood,” she breathed in a furious hiss. “Remove your hand at once.”

  “No,” Rawden answered, fingers clenching around her shapely thigh. “You need to understand. You are not as invincible as you think.”

  His other hand shot out to grab a fistful of her long hair. Though his grip was not at all painful, it was firm. He drew her closer slowly, his eyes smouldering and resolute.

  “Even if my men are loyal to me, their… baser instincts would override logic.” He leaned in to inhale the scent of her. “And not one of them would be able to resist plucking such a ripe fruit. The minute one of them caught you alone, you would find your clothes ripped away and your body ruined. Is your freedom to roam the deck worth such a price?”

  Juliana studied his earnest expression, her lips turned down into a frown.

  “Are you trying to tell me that keeping me a prisoner in your cabin is for my own good and not for your own?”

  Rawden shrugged, adopting his cavalier facade once more.

  “Believe what you will, little missy,” he chuckled. “But like it or not—you will not be leaving this room without my say-so.”

  Juliana did not like the current turn of events. She felt another string slip from her control as the pirate captain took command of yet another aspect of their tenuous relationship. She forced a flippant smirk to her lips.

  “Fine. As long as you understand the repercussions of annoying a lady,” she quipped.

  “Which are?”

  “You’ll soon find out. Have you never lived with an irritated before?” she said breezily.

  He let his gaze trail up and down her svelte form.

  “I’m sure the magnificent view will temper any minor inconveniences,” he said with a sultry grin. “You do cut quite the scene, my darling.”

  She did not flinch when his arms closed around her; rather, she twined her wrists behind his neck. Rawden smoothed his palms up her sides, relishing the feel of the wet fabric sliding over her slick skin.

  “As do you,” she replied, fingering the edge of his open collar.

  “I am quite sure that you cannot see through my clothing,” he answered devilishly, his lips at her neck.

  “Perhaps,” Juliana countered with a laugh. “But from this angle, I am quite sure that my modesty is intact.”

  In response, Rawden spun her in his arms, anchoring her to him with a forearm around her waist. His other hand skimmed the swell of her breasts. He leaned forward to peer greedily over her shoulder and got an eyeful of her heaving bosom and her erect nipples under sheer fabric.

  “And now?”

  “Now, you are being quite cheeky.”

  “I’ll show you cheeky,” he grunted.

  With his free hand, he began to massage her chilled flesh, his fingers deftly searching out the curves and crevices of her body. Juliana’s breathing hitched in her throat as she threw her head back against his shoulder, her nails digging passionately into his bicep. Rawden smiled at the wanton flush creeping up her chest. As he smoothed his rough palm under the hem of her wet dress and up her silken thigh, he began to tug at her short sleeve. The damp material slid down easily, baring the curve of her creamy shoulder. He nipped lightly at the exposed flesh, his breath making her shiver.

  “Now,” he whispered against her skin as his hands began to search her body with more fervour, “I wonder where you’ve hidden that map.”

  In a sudden flash of white cloth and golden hair, Juliana was halfway across the room, standing by the fireplace. Though her chest st
ill heaved with desire, her eyes were cold and wary. She was tense, and her hand was again at her thigh. Rawden watched as she gripped her dagger’s hilt with white-knuckled ferocity.

  She’s too quick, he thought, and more dangerous than she seems.

  “You press too far,” she warned, her gaze unblinking.

  “And you assume too much,” he returned evenly. “Why would I settle for just one sovereign a day when I could have a whole cave of Roman gold?”

  “You will not reach the Roman gold without my directions.”

  “And yet,” he said, taking a step forward, “here you are, in my quarters with only your short dagger as a defence.”

  “You promised to protect me,” she reminded him.

  “And I will,” he affirmed with a smirk. “But I did not promise to let you keep your map.”

  “Do you mean this map?”

  Juliana dropped the hem of her skirt to lift a damp, folded-up square of aged paper between two fingers. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, she flicked the paper into the low-burning fire. It crumbled into ash and disappeared with a quick plume of grey smoke.

  “There now,” she said, voice steady. “Now I am well and truly the only one that knows the way to my treasure.”

  Rawden narrowed his eyes and studied her for a brief moment.

  Quick-witted. Defiant. Fearless. Miss Juliana Wright had once again proved herself a force to be reckoned with. A breathtakingly beautiful force.

  He walked to her with slow, deliberate steps. Though she stiffened at his approach, she did not flinch when he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her cheek with the back of his hand. His touch was tender, but his eyes were hard and calculating.

  “Clever girl,” he said softly, dangerously.

  He moved in closer, sliding his palm up her neck to cup her cheek. Lowering his face to hers, he dragged one fingertip across her bare shoulder. Briefly, he caught a glimpse of black-and-green inking on her shoulder blade—a tattoo, perhaps? But he did not have time to dwell on the curiosity; at the moment, there were important negotiations to be made.

  “I believe we need to revisit the terms of our agreement,” Rawden told her, his hands gliding down her arms.