The Pirate's Reckless Touch

The Pirate's Reckless Touch
Linda Skye

Juliana Wright is on the hunt.Her father discovered an ancient treasure map—and was killed for it. Now she's determined to find the treasure for herself in time for Christmas and escape the brigands pursuing her. To complete her mission, she needs the help of devilishly handsome Captain Rawden Wood, a notorious pirate revered throughout the high seas.He is the only one capable of protecting her aboard his ship, but Juliana knows that with one single touch he could dishonor her—and worse, reveal her biggest secret

Juliana Wright is on the hunt. Her father discovered an ancient treasure map—and was killed for it. Now she’s determined to find the treasure for herself in time for Christmas and escape the brigands pursuing her.

To complete her mission, she needs the help of devilishly handsome Captain Rawden Wood, a notorious pirate revered throughout the high seas. He is the only one capable of protecting her aboard his ship, but Juliana knows that with one single touch he could dishonor her—and worse, reveal her biggest secret…

The Pirate’s Reckless Touch

Linda Skye

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

ISBN: 9781472008138

The Pirate's Reckless Touch

© Linda Skye 2012

First Published in Great Britain in 2012

Harlequin (UK) Limited

Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

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All characters in this work have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Version: 2018-07-18

Contents

Copyright (#ud0f91b2d-1578-5177-8d8d-a278ae8b305e)

Chapter 1 (#u7b3c9161-3862-5cc5-94d3-bc5eb6fa9729)

Chapter 2 (#u9981054e-759d-5766-9502-73f8c51e9233)

Chapter 3 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 1

Rawden scowled at the winter chill, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his woollen trousers. Thick, heavy snowflakes drifted down lazily in circular patterns all around him, and a crowd of ratty street children bustled around his legs, laughing and sticking out their tongues to catch the flakes. It was only a few days until Christmas Eve, and even the poorest boroughs of London seemed to have swung into the festive season. A few of the local taverns that lined the narrow alleyway had even hung evergreen wreaths from their doors.

But to Rawden, it just didn’t feel like Christmas.

Not when his ship, the Golden Maiden, was in such disrepair that he feared going to Davy Jones’s locker every time they were at sea. Not when his mutinous, grumbling crew had to be kept in line with constant threats of keelhauling. And not when his personal coffers were practically empty despite months of scouring foreign seas for booty-filled ships.

So it was not the warm glow of the Yuletide season that had brought him back to the London docks; it was the hope of finding information about fresh plundering grounds.

Rawden’s eyes scanned the row of seedy back-alley taverns, stopping to rest on the crudely carved placard of a familiar door. The Mucky Duck. A favourite watering hole for London’s less savoury merchants. He strode over quickly and pushed his way past the heavy oak door and into the dank, dimly lit pub. Ignoring the late-night revellers and flirtatious ladies of the night, Rawden made his way over to the bar and lifted a finger. A heavy earthen mug slid his way almost immediately, filled with a dark, frothy brew. He quietly nursed his drink as his sharp eyes discreetly searched out the room for known traders or informants.

But all thoughts of piracy evaporated the moment he spotted her across the room. He didn’t know who she was or where she had come from, but she was almost blindingly beautiful. Her golden tresses were loosely pinned up so that a few wayward curls framed her delicate face. Her pale, slender neck was as elegant as a swan’s, and her bare arms were the colour of the finest fresh cream. Her light and flimsy frock was cut dangerously low, the sleeves just barely skimming the edges of her slim shoulders.

A drunken sailor might mistake her for a common whore—but Rawden knew better. Though her dress was similar to those of the other pub wenches, the fabric was too white, too clean. And rather than flitting from man to man with a salacious grin, she awkwardly wandered about, subtly cringing when meaty hands reached for her. But most of all, her dovelike face was just too innocent and too sweet to be mistaken for that of a tart. It was painfully obvious that she didn’t belong, despite her very best efforts to blend in. An amused smirk quirked the corners of Rawden’s lips as he watched her stumble from table to table. He wondered, briefly, what misguided notion had caused the young woman to engage in such a bold and foolish masquerade.

And then a cool blast of December air washed over him as the pub door swung inward and two marine police walked in. Conversation stilled for a moment as the burly men sauntered toward the bar.

Rawden frowned into his mug of ale before tipping it back and draining the bitter drink in one long gulp. Tossing a few coppers onto the bar, he stood abruptly, fully intent on leaving the scene. Finding information with police in the tavern had just become impossible, and he had no desire to get caught up in any shenanigans with the law. He had enough trouble as it was.

As he turned, he saw that the police had stopped in the centre of the tavern, their eyes roving over the raucous crowd of sailors and merchants. Feigning indifference, he casually ambled toward the exit. He felt the officers’ eyes on him as he approached, and he carefully kept his eyes averted. A flash of golden hair caught his eye.

Perfect, he thought to himself. Something to pretend to look at.

Rawden fixed a leer on his face, gluing his eyes onto the young woman and grinning like a hungry dog. He heard the police snort disgustedly as he passed. But even after the police turned their attention elsewhere, Rawden could not tear his eyes from the innocent girl. It didn’t help that she was heading in his direction. Just before he managed to make it to the door, she seemed to trip on some invisible obstacle—which sent her careening into his arms.

A cacophony of catcalls and whistles erupted from the onlookers as Rawden steeled himself against the young woman’s soft flesh. She had landed against his chest in a tangle of smooth limbs, and her silky hair was brushing the underside of his stubbly chin. She pulled away more slowly than he expected, bracing her palms on the rough leather of his vest. Then, with her ample bosom still pressed up against his chest, she tilted her head back to meet his gaze. Rawden’s arms tightened around her slender frame as he looked down at her sweetly upturned face. She was even more beautiful up close. Thick lashes fluttered over sea-blue eyes, and her pink lips were slightly parted in surprise. Rawden inhaled sharply, and he was overtaken by her pure, bright scent. She smelled clean and fresh, like a crisp summer’s day.

Too clean, a voice niggled at the back of his head.

Rawden sighed, remembering himself. He slid his hands to her elbows and steadied her as he stepped back resolutely.

“You should go,” Rawden said gruffly as he watched the police from the corner of his eye.

His suggestion was met with silence, and he glanced down at the girl with a dark frown. She had tilted her head to one side and was studying him curiously, blue eyes unblinking.

“Why?” she asked quietly.

Rawden’s fingers tightened at her elbow and he leaned in, his lips brushing her ear.