by Christine Merrill/Marguerite Kaye/Annie Burrows/Barbara Monajem/Linda Skye
“And why is that?” she asked, tilting her head to give his lips access to her collarbone.
“Because there is something new on the table, Miss Wright,” he announced.
“Something new?”
He spun around suddenly with her in his arms. Lifting her effortlessly, he set her atop the wooden table so that she was perched on its edge with his hips wedged between her thighs. With one hand, he carelessly swept a pile of papers to the floor; with the other, he gently pushed her shoulder to the rough tabletop. He planted one open hand beside her surprised face and stared down, leaning over her.
“Yes, there is the matter of the gold—and my share of it.”
“I already promised you one gold sovereign for every—”
“Every day until we find your treasure.” He paused to pin her with a serious stare. “Will you make me your enemy after that? Your gold coins will be nothing butcrumbs when we lay eyes on the treasure.”
“Clever man.” Juliana threw his words back at him with brief smile. “So you would claim a share of what is mine?”
“Yes. And why not? I will have helped you find it.”
“Very well,” she acquiesced. “You may take ten percent for your troubles.”
Rawden chuckled and then lowered his face to press a kiss to her jaw. The bargaining had begun.
“Half of the treasure,” he countered. “And no less.”
Juliana gave as good as she got, tightening her thighs around his waist and twining her fingers in his hair as she twisted just so.
“Too much,” she sighed into his hair. “You can have twenty percent.”
Rawden groaned and thrust the evidence of his arousal against her core. He splayed his fingers over her ribs and bent lower to drag his teeth against her earlobe. The air became heady and thick with the heat between their bodies.
“You drive a hard bargain, my dear,” he grunted, at the edge of losing all control. “I’ll take a quarter of the treasure—and in exchange, I’ll protect you for a fortnight after you’ve found your treasure.”
Juliana stilled, pushing him back to face him squarely. Her blue eyes searched his expression, weighing every nuance in his face. After a moment, she grinned and pulled him close—and the deliciously carnal spark they had been nursing burst into full flame.
“I accept your terms, Captain Wood,” she said, her pink tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip. “How shall we seal this agreement?”
“Let me think,” he answered, leaning down and bracing himself against the table. “A kiss?”
She arched a coy brow before tugging his face close to hers, and he was briefly surprised by the sheer intensity of her kiss. The minute her lips touched his, it was as if they had both been swept up in a raging typhoon of lush sensations. She suckled greedily at his lips, and he returned her open-mouthed kisses with equal fervour, his tongue sweeping past her sweet lips. His hands found their way to her smooth thighs as hers found the opening of his shirt. With a swift jerk, she pulled his shirt open and slid her hands over his chest. As the pads of her fingers swept over the ridges of his abdomen, he pulled his shirt off and threw it to the floor. Her hands kneaded his taut muscles, and he tangled his fingers in her long hair, pulling her into an even deeper kiss. She rocked against him and moaned, hands clawing at his back. Growling with desire, Rawden pushed her back down onto the table and stretched her arms up above her head, threading his fingers between hers. He continued to ravage her with hot, insistent kisses, and she bucked beneath him in response. Rawden smoothed his rough hands down her long arms, around the column of her neck and over her slender shoulders. Then, with his palms flush against her heated skin, he pulled down the thin fabric of her gown, hitching the elasticated collar under the generous swell of her breasts. Juliana’s teeth raked his bottom lip, and she arched up off the table as Rawden’s calloused fingers grazed the smooth contours, catching lightly on her hardening caramel peaks. He wound his arms around her waist and drew her upward as his lips left hers to trail nibbling kisses down her throat and past her collarbone. He trailed a slick line down her sternum with his tongue and grinned when she gasped and clutched blindly at his hair. He cupped one generous mound with a hand and then latched on to the other with his mouth, his tongue swirling seductive patterns on her sensitive flesh. Juliana could not help but cry out in pleasure, her toes curling and her thighs tightening around his grinding hips.
It was perfect. It was absolutely perfect. And their agreement was about to be sealed with much more than just a kiss.
Rawden was just getting ready to reach down to unbutton his trousers when a loud knock sounded on his door.
“Not now!” he barked shortly, his lips barely leaving Juliana’s exposed skin.
“We need you at the wheel, Captain,” his first mate called insistently, rapping on the door again.
Rawden growled, gathering the girl into his arms and pressing his nose into her skin to inhale her sweet scent. Then he straightened and pulled her off the table, gently setting her down on her feet. She slumped against his chest, and he could feel her heart racing.
So close, he thought to himself, they had been so close.
Juliana sighed disappointedly—and then stepped away. She moved closer to the fire, unobtrusively fixing her garments as she did so. Rawden let loose a string of expletives under his breath before turning to scowl at the closed door.
“Wait for me at the wheel,” he commanded, his voice rough with unspent passion.
He glanced at Juliana, eyes still slightly wild.
“You should dry out that dress,” he suggested. “We have no other women’s clothes aboard. We will reach Portsmouth by tomorrow’s eve.”
Juliana nodded and watched as he stormed away, his footfalls heavy with frustration. Just before he pulled the door open, he spun around to wag a finger at her.
“This conversation isn’t over, my dear,” he said with a wicked grin that promised more to come.
But by the time Rawden stumbled blindly back into his quarters, the fire had died down to burning embers and the dark furnishings were cast in shadow. The ship still shifted in the angry waves, but after a moment of adjusting his eyes to the semi-darkness, Rawden strode into the cabin easily, shutting the door firmly behind him. Heavy silence hung like a blanket, and he spied a small figure curled up in his sheets. He sighed.
Apparently their steamy conversation was over after all.
Rawden slowly stripped to his underclothes, tossing his damp, salty garments over the back of a chair. His attention turned to the bed. He briefly wondered if she’d taken his advice to dry her damp clothing, or if she’d stubbornly been shivering away all night long. She looked warm enough at the moment.
His eyes surveyed the scene. Juliana had evidently decided that his entire bed was now her personal domain; for though she was small, she had planted herself firmly in the middle of the mattress.
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 palm
s, 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 FIVE
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 highwaisted 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.