His to Hold (Regency Scoundrels Book 1) (7 page)

Shocked by her wildly wanton thoughts, she gasped, when she felt him move. He removed his arm from around her waist, and reached up to brush his hair off his forehead. His face scrunched into a frown, and his eyelids opened.

“Good morning,” he drawled lazily, slanting his mouth into an amiable grin.

She didn’t know what to do. He was even handsomer in the morning than he had been the night before.

“Good…good morning,” she stammered, finally recognizing the heat of his body pressed against hers.

Her dress was nearly sheer, and her nipples were painfully taut against the thin muslin. The pelisse served more than just an article to keep her warm. Why hadn’t she worn a more substantial outfit, especially since it had been for traveling?

He moved again, and created even more friction against her. She tried swallowing past the large chestnut sized lump that had suddenly lodged in her throat. She wanted to slide away from him, but he still had his one arm holding her against him.

He leaned down toward her, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. She slanted her mouth to meet his, and his lips smacked against hers. Seemingly startled, he broke the kiss before it could even begin.

“Why won’t you kiss me?” The question spilled out of her mouth before she could even help herself.

“Because a true gentleman never kisses anyone but his wife.”

His cruel rebuttal stung her, and was in complete contradiction to the way that he had behaved the day before.

“And here I believed that you had full intentions of ruining me, and then forcing me to marry you.”

“A man does not need to kiss a woman, in order to ruin her.” He gave her a wicked grin, and made a tingling shiver race up and down her spine.

“You are a despicable scoundrel. You’re no better than a blackguard!”

His eyes glowed to a deeper blue, and his nostrils flared, while the one muscle in his cheek twitched. His one hand moved lower to lift the hem of her dress that was tangled around her legs. He swept his hand up to rest on her bare upper thigh. She snagged her bottom lip, as his gentle touch sent a delicious thrill through her.

Her bosom swelled with indignation, and she struggled to free one arm. Uselessly, she tried to slap his wandering hand away.

“Stop that!” she snapped out, making his hand freeze in mid-motion. For one brief second, she could have sworn that she noticed a mischievous glint enter his eyes. The glint gradually faded, to be replaced by a sobering gaze.

“Of course. You are not ready yet. I shall not make love to you, unless you are begging me to. And, my dear, it shall not take me long to urge you to that point.” Smug satisfaction glinted in his dancing eyes.

“Keep dreaming, sir.” She tried to move her hand, and cursed indelicately when her hand slipped, and swerved down to lightly brush against the private place between his legs.

Rafe stiffened, and she smiled, watching as his face gradually became mottled with colour.

“You, miss, are treading a very thin line. If you do not take care, I will have you here and now in this bed. I assure you, that I will not need much more convincing!” As it was, neither would she.

Feeling the maddened energy boiling within her, she pushed against him with all her might, and sent him rolling off the bed.

He hit the floor with a grand thud, and the ensuing silence was so still, that she found herself edging to the side of the bed to peer over. In one fell swoop, he sat, up, reached for her, and pulled her to down to straddle him. His deep rumbling laughter filled the cabin, and she couldn’t help but smile in return.

She swallowed again, and felt her heart skip a beat. As it was, Rafe did not make idle threats, for she could feel the burgeoning evidence of his desire straining against her. His eyes danced, and he was just about to run his hand up the back of her dress, when a loud urgent rapping was heard at the door.

“Captain, we have a bit of a situation brewing up on deck.” She didn’t recognize the young man’s voice, though she could tell by the sound of his voice that he couldn’t be much over twenty.

“Aye, Mister Roberts,” he muttered, frustration lining his face. “I was about to have a merry situation going on down here as well.” He dropped his voice so that only she could hear him.

“How do they know that you are in here with me?” she hissed, slapping him soundly against the chest. He grunted, and then pushed her off of him so he could sit up.

“My men always endeavor to keep abreast of the situations pertaining to me. If possible, I shall order a bath be drawn for you later on. Right now, I’d suggest changing into a clean dress. It might serve to freshen you up a bit.”

“Are you insinuating that I do not have a pleasing scent about myself?” her voice filled with anger, and she watched with delight as it grated against him.

“I, miss, would do nothing of the sort. You smell like a delicate flower.” He looked down at his own disheveled appearance, and groaned. “Come to think of it, I believe I may be in need of fresh attire myself.” He gave her that familiar wink of his, smiled, and strode from the cabin.

Sighing, she stared down at herself, and over at the cold washbasin of water, that sat on her dressing table. Shrugging her shoulders, she stripped out of her dress, and walked toward the water.

Soon, she’d be awake whether she liked it or not. As she trickled the cool water over herself, her mind drifted to the way that his hands had felt on her body. Shivering, she patted herself dry, and walked quickly toward her trunk of clothing.

Whipping the lid open, she searched for something suitable to wear. Crooking her mouth into a secret smile, she shook out the strange outfit that she had designed and sewn for herself. She slipped it on in no time at all, and quickly plaited her hair. She turned in front of the small full-length mirror, and sighed. Finding her secret stash of hard boiled sweets, she reached for a peppermint candy and popped it into her mouth. At least her breath would smell a bit nicer now.

When Rafe saw her, he’d be stunned beyond belief.

Mallory moved with the gentle swaying of
The Valiant
. He came up beside Ethan and Nigel, and stared out at the ocean.

“We’re being followed, Rafe,” Ethan said, darting a cautionary glance at Mallory.

“Hells Bells!” he muttered, clasping his hands behind his back. “Any thought of which enemy it might be?”

“Not a clue as of yet. They are still too far behind us for us to see their flag.”

Mallory reached for the spyglass, and took it when Ethan handed it to him. He placed it up to his one eye, and looked down toward the stern. He strained his eyesight, wishing that he could make out the flag that billowed in the breeze. He would have to keep an eye on them, for the ship was quickly closing the distance that lay between them.

“Signal to
The Red Dawn
and the other ships. We’ll need to keep them a distance. I shall not give Elizabeth back to her father.”

“We still have quite a journey ahead of us, and we still haven’t been able to ascertain how many other ships could be traveling with them.”

“Aye, I know, Ethan. But we fight if need be, we don’t give up Elizabeth for anything.”

“I know Geoffrey Woodward, Rafe,” Ethan barked. “In his own distorted way of thinking, he believes that Elizabeth belongs to him, and I honestly don’t think he treats her the way he treats others. He loves her in his own, selfishly misguided way. And he won’t let you of all people have her. She is his, as far as he’s concerned.”

“Not anymore,” Mallory argued, through clenched teeth. “She belongs to me now. Keep a keen eye out, I’m going to go down to my cabin and arm myself. Make sure that everyone else is ready for battle.”

“Aye, aye Captain,” Ethan said, saluting and smirking at him.

Mallory rolled his eyes, and moseyed back down to the cabins. He pressed an inquiring ear to the side of his cabin wall, and was dismayed when he heard no movement inside of Elizabeth’s cabin. Frowning, he buckled his British Naval cutlass to his hip, and reached for his pistols.

He was just about to knock on the outside of her cabin door, when Seamus emerged from the galley carrying a tray laden with food.

“That galley isn’t what I’m exactly used to, but I made use of it. I thought you might be hungry, sir,” Seamus chirped.

Mallory rolled his eyes and reached hungrily for two sticky cross buns, and a cup of tea with lemon. “Thank you, Seamus. As always, you know what my stomach wants.” He smiled at the Irishman, as Seamus darted his eyes wearily toward Elizabeth’s door.

“Do you suppose it would be safe, sir, if I were to knock on the door?” For a rugged seafaring man who touted many scars of battle, Seamus almost seemed afraid of encountering Elizabeth.

“I think that she will be very delighted when she sees that you come bearing food.” Mallory grinned, reached for a cloth napkin, and walked up the steps to the deck.

He could see that Ethan was keeping a furtive eye trained on the horizon. Just as he licked down the rest of the buns and swallowed the last sip of tea, he heard Ethan’s outraged curse.

“Those aren’t Woodward’s ships,” Ethan muttered, staring through the spyglass while pointing in the offensive direction. “They belong to that bloody Spaniard, Antonio.”

“Damnation!” Mallory cursed, wiping his sticky fingers. “What the hell is that infernal daogo doing is these waters?”

“Well, hell, I’ll take a stab at this one,” Ethan began, groaning. “Perhaps, he’s looking for you. He really doesn’t like you, sir.”

Mallory grunted, and nodded his agreement. “As always, Ethan, you are most assuredly correct.”

Sometimes, it just didn’t pay to be in the business of looting and pillaging.

*****

Elizabeth’s heart quickened, at the loud rapping on her door. Why was someone knocking when she was locked in? Unless…squaring her shoulders, and sticking out her chest, she proudly walked to the door.

She whipped it open, only to come face-to-face with the ship’s Irish Cook. He stared at her, and remained silent, yet he had crooked one eyebrow at her strange appearance.

He balanced a tray heaped with delicious smelling food. Obviously, this Irish Cook knew his craft. Beckoning him inside, she stepped aside, to let him pass. He walked over to the table, and placed the tray down upon it.

Turning back to her, he grinned, and glanced toward the tousled bed knowingly. If he said just one word, she’d scream like a bloody banshee.

“Would you like me to tidy the covers for you?” he asked softly, his accent thick because of his excitement.

“I shall manage quite well on my own, thank you.” She studied him as his eyes swept the full length of the cabin.

“As you wish, miss.” He straightened up to his full height, glanced back down at the tray and cleared his throat. “Would you like me to serve you?”

It took her a moment to grasp his meaning, since her mind was presently elsewhere. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get that rake and scoundrel of a pirate out of her head. “Thank you, but I think I’ll pass on that one as well.” Her lips twitched, as she attempted to keep them from forming into a smile.

“Ah, well. I’ve prepared you some hot chocolate, but there is also some strong tea in the teapot, and some limes or lemons, depending on what you like with your tea. Americans aren’t big on milk with tea, are they? And besides, lemons with your tea on a sea voyage is a good idea. Hmm…perhaps I should have made you some coffee.” He gestured to each item, and then glanced back at her.

“It looks and smells delicious. Thank you. You needn’t bother with the coffee. My father is the one that likes that. I do not care for it. I shall eat it happily,” she said. Her stomach enforced her words when it growled with hunger. Embarrassed, she pressed the flat palm of her hand on her stomach.

“I’ll be taking my leave then, Miss Elizabeth,” he murmured, edging toward the door. “One more thing, miss, though I may be speaking out of turn.” His ruddy cheeks reddened even more, as he locked eyes on her.

“Yes,” she said, turning around.

“Take care of my lad. He might be an Englishman, but he’s the best man I’ve ever met. He has a heart of gold, that one.”

“Yes, he certainly does have a heart that hankers for gold.”

“Ah, miss, if you only knew the hell he’s been put through. I’m sure that you’d sympathize.”

“You don’t even know me from boo yet, Seamus,” she murmured, taking a step backward.

“Aye, but despite all of your blustering, you have kind eyes.” He turned to leave, and then twirled around on his heel once more. “If you’re trying to look like a man in that get-up, I’d suggest you tuck your hair up into a cap, and squish your charms down a wee bit. Boys don’t exactly have to worry about that part of the anatomy.” He smiled, and then left the cabin. As soon as he stepped outside, she heard his amused chuckling.

She sighed, and frowned. If she’d only entertained Seamus, then it would be doubtful that she’d have a different reaction from Rafe. Groaning, she sat down, and reached for one of the lids that covered the hot food. She reached for her cup of hot chocolate, and drank it eagerly.

Its smooth, rich texture coursed down her throat, and filled her with a sense of contentment. She then tucked eagerly into the food, and found to her enjoyment that not only could Seamus make a fine cup of chocolate, but that he could also cook food that would rival her father’s French chefs.

She had just cleaned her plate, when she heard the frenzied shouts of men up on deck. Pushing back her chair, she stood up and walked back over to her chest of clothing. She searched inside, and found a cap suitable for covering her long plaited hair. She coiled the raven plait into a makeshift bun, and then tucked her cap around it.

She reached inside for the second hand greatcoat that she had bought while in London. Its bulkiness would not only protect her from the elements, but it would also conceal her ample charms. She still wore her traveling boots having nothing else to consider except her riding, or walking boots, and at the moment, she didn’t know where those were, because Sarah had packed her belongings.

Most men on ships went around in bare feet expect for the officers, but she didn’t think that anyone would pay much heed to her, for she was not about to set off barefooted.

Breathing deeply, she walked toward her bedside table, and tucked her mother’s miniature portrait into her pocket. Tapping it to reassure herself, she walked to the cabin door.

Then, as if another mood had struck her fancy, she dashed back to the bedside table, and reluctantly placed the portrait back on it. She hurried back to the cabin door, opened it, only to discover that all hell had somehow broken loose.

*****

“Damn that Spanish Bastard straight to the fires of hell!” Mallory spit out, taking his hands off of the wheel, and striding back toward the rail.

“I think he wants your head, this time my friend,” Ethan commented, grinning at him, as the ship prepared for battle.

“Well, as it is, I’m rather fond of my head.” Mallory touched his neck and grimaced.

“Aye, the noble St. Martins haven’t lost any heads since, oh, when was it, the Seventeenth Century?”

“Sixteenth, and don’t be cheeky. One of my ancestors raised the ire of Queen Mary of England. Of course, it didn’t take much to anger her. There was a reason why she was called Bloody Mary.” Mallory grinned, while trying desperately to concoct a plan of outmaneuvering the brutal Spaniard that was hot on their trail.

“Well, now you can’t be breaking that winning streak,” Ethan advised.

Men scurried to the battle positions, as
The Valiant
readied their gun cannons.

“I should be back on
The Red Dawn
, I don’t know what possessed me to take charge of this ship. It’s a fine sailing ship, I grant you, and it is heavily armed, but I don’t know if it’s as maneuverable as
The Red Dawn
.”

“Don’t you worry, Rafe.
The Valiant
will serve us well. Besides, you’ll have to be worried about a boarding party, because I warrant that Captain Antonio will be wanting to swing across as soon as he’s able.”

“We’ll just have to be sure that he isn’t able to bring his bloody ship that close to us.” Mallory grit his teeth, and felt the familiar sensations that always came over him when in the heat of battle.

His mind usually cleared, and focused on one thing, victory. And he would be victorious. For once and for all, he was bound and determined to rid himself of that Spanish bastard.

He turned his head at the sound of a scuffle. His eyes widened dramatically. He wanted to pinch himself, because he was almost sure that what he saw standing before him could not be real.

All blood drained from his cheeks. Numbing shock overtook him. But his disbelief only lasted for a few seconds, and when it drained away, it was replaced by anger, the likes of which he had never before experienced. She looked ridiculous in the garb she wore.

Her breasts were tightly pressed into the shirt and if she bent over too far she’d spill right out. The greatcoat she wore did little to conceal her charms as it kept blowing open in the harsh sea wind. With a ship full of men, he didn’t like that at all. Possessiveness swelled through him. The breeches she had on clung to every single curve on her shapely legs.

His mouth went dry. She’d plaited her thick curly black hair, coiled it into a makeshift bun, and had tried to stuff it under a cap that now sat askew on her head. As a result, a few strands had escaped, and curled around her heart-shaped face. He shook off the trance he’d been momentarily thrown into, as his initial anger returned. If she thought she fooled anyone in her getup, she couldn’t be farther from the truth. Elizabeth could hardly hide the fact that she was all woman.

Mallory crossed the short distance that lay between Elizabeth and himself, grasping her shoulders tightly. He wanted to shake her, but he would not! He loved her, and he had to keep reminding himself of that fact, no matter how many times she tried his patience. If he married her, he’d have to acquire the patience of a saint.

“Christ’s teeth woman, what are you doing?” his voice was filled with annoyance, and he saw her wince beneath it.

“I thought that I would come up here and see what was going on.” Her voice was calm, and totally contradicted the rolling emotions that were pent up inside of him. When he stared into her beautiful eyes, he saw nothing but anxiety. Not fear, or trepidation, only concern. He wanted to shake his head.

“Woman, you confound me.” She stared up at him, and actually had the tenacity and gall to smile sweetly, at his barked exclamation.

“I thank you,” she murmured.

At the sound of her sultry voice, he was quite undone. She was winding him around her pinky finger, and worst of all, she knew that she was affecting him to the point of distraction. But he would not fall for her feminine wiles, he was too strong for that, and well at the moment, he didn’t have the luxury.

“Do you not realize that we are preparing for a violent sea battle?”

“I suspected that you were.” She nodded her head thoughtfully, and God help him whether she realized it or not, she was batting her rich, and thick eyelashes at him. Here he was on the edge of a bloody battle, and all that he wanted to do was immerse himself in the sweet and tantalizing woman that stood before him.