Julianna dunked her hands in the bowl of cool water and let them sit there for a moment, allowing the chill to ease away the aches of the day. She brought her hands up to her face and wiped them from her forehead down to her neck before drying her face on a cloth.

Reaching for the pins in her hair, she plucked them out one by one, staring absently out of the window. A full moon greeted her tonight, its ghostly glow shimmering off calm seas. She eased open the window and leaned on the sill to suck in the scent of fresh air and sea salt.

Today had been good. In fact, the past few days had been. Her cooking skills were getting better and Louisa was giving her more responsibilities. The work was neither glamourous nor exciting, but she rather liked the tedium of it for the moment.

It meant she could forget her previous life. She was too busy rushing here and there, serving patrons and cooking and cleaning to worry about whether her fiancé or father would find her. Memories of sitting in her father’s stately home, reading books or embroidering, were fading. It was hard to even compare her two lives. The woman who’d lived under her father’s shadow seemed almost a specter of her current self.

She stilled at the sound of voices below. Hushed tones filtered up into the open window. Leaning closer, she peered out but could not quite see who was there. She didn’t need to. She recognized Louisa’s voice well enough, though, and the man’s voice was Lord Redmere’s, she suspected. He was a well-respected earl who owned much of the land in the area. He frequented the inn several nights a week though she could not figure out why—and even spent time with her brother and Drake. He seemed pleasant in a gruff sort of way while his brother Nate was quite charming and always asked how she was.

Holding her breath, she pressed her ear to the gap in the window.

“I am a businesswoman, Red,” said Louisa. “You know I wish to do all I can to help but my livelihood and that of others depends on me. I will have no part in anything risky.”

“And I would not ask you to,” the earl replied.

“The customs men have been sniffing around. I need to ensure all suspicion is dispelled.”

“Things are quiet at present. Drake won’t be going out for another few weeks, and we will make other arrangements,” Red vowed. “Do not fear. I have little intention of putting anyone other than myself in harm’s way.”

Louisa laughed. “Those men who follow you would quite happily put themselves in harm’s way for you, you know that. Even Knight.”

Julianna frowned. She’d known there was something odd about their group. It was clear Knight and Drake worked together but apparently, they were also involved with something to do with the earl. What could it be that the customs men were so interested in? She’d pressed Knight for details, but that man was more stubborn than she and refused to tell her anything of his current life.

“I’d better finish cleaning up. Keep your head down, Red. I don’t want to see it on a spike.” Louisa’s tone was jovial, but Julianna heard concern there. What were they doing that could see an earl killed for it?

Red chuckled. “Will never happen. I’m far too important and rich for that.”

Julianna waited until footsteps retreated and a door shut before retrieving her cloak and slinging it about her shoulders. She left the inn quietly, slipping past Louisa as she hummed a tune and counted the takings for the day.

Hood pulled firmly over her head, she made her way down toward the village. Lanterns hanging from ships’ masts moved with the gentle lap of the sea, making the lights bob up as though they were fairies dancing above the water. She rarely saw the sea at home but there was something soothing about the constancy of living near it. Every morning it was there, like an old friend. With each tide, it brought in fishermen, bringing life and money into the village. It washed away the footprints on the sand and ripened the air, making each day feel like a fresh start.

Drake’s ship was empty as far as she could see. She peered around. Apart from the sound of drunken singing emanating from one of the taverns down the street, she was alone. She took her chance and hopped along the gangplank. Ropes were neatly coiled on deck and the hull creaked. She waited to get her bearings, spying the open hatch that led below deck. Her heart thrust against her chest and she felt it beat all the way up into her throat. She glanced around again and listened for a sign of someone, anyone.

She drew in a breath. What was she doing?

She licked her lips. She was finding out the truth, that’s what. If her brother was doing something reckless, she needed to know.

You want to know about Drake too, a little voice told her. She ignored that voice.

Julianna stepped into the gloom. She’d never been inside a ship like this before. Her pulse seemed to grow loud and echoey in her ears. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Around her were nets and boxes. She eased open the lid of a box but could see little aside from straw. She could not say she was an expert on trade but surely this ship was meant for bringing goods into the country? What sort of merchant ship remained docked for weeks at a time? And what sort of merchant kept so quiet about their business?

A door slammed behind her. Julianna barely concealed a squeal. She hastened over to the boxes and ducked behind one, her breaths ragged. She peered over the top in the direction of the noise. Footsteps grew close and a figure appeared in the doorway.

A shirtless Drake emerged from the darkness. His features were stark as he passed the hatch, the drip of night light enhancing the dips and shadows of his face.

And of his body.

A knot jammed into Julianna’s throat and remained there. She gripped the wooden box, feeling it bite into her hands. Drake paused by the hatch and peered upward. She had little idea what he was doing, and her brain refused to budge and even think on it. Not when he was in front of her, so close and so...so shirtless!

Muscles undulated as he reached for a shirt hanging from a beam. His arms were taut and thick. Ridges were etched on his stomach. She’d known he was strong—goodness, she’d even felt that hard body against her—but nothing could have prepared her for this sight. She swallowed, and it sounded too loud to her.

Drake pushed his arms into the shirt, failing to do it up. He must have been bathing as she could see his skin glisten a little and his hair was damp and pushed back from his face. Every part of her tingled with heat and no matter what she told herself, she could not remove her gaze from him.

“Who goes there?”

Her heart practically tumbled out of her mouth. She froze until she realized he was calling up to the deck. He hastened up the steps and she willed her limbs to move. She could hardly tell if they were frozen from fear or something else.

Finally easing out from her hiding spot, Julianna slipped up the steps, cautiously peering out onto the deck. Drake stood at the top of the gangplank, his back to her, allowing her to slip past him and duck behind another stack of boxes. Lord, if someone had told her a few months ago that she would be in Cornwall, on a ship, hiding behind boxes yet again, she’d have told them they were mad.

But this was about family, was it not? And not about Drake. Oh no, not at all. She needed to know what Knight was up to and if it was something terrible, she would have to come up with a way of stopping him from doing said terrible thing.

“You don’t give up easily do you?” Drake said to the intruder.

“You will take me to France.”

Julianna could only see Drake’s back, but she recognized the voice as that of the man from a few weeks ago who had been demanding passage—Ewan Wallace, if she recalled correctly. Drake lifted his hands and Julianna sucked in a breath as he stepped back onto the deck. The man stalked him, a gun pointed at Drake’s chest.

“I’m crewless, Ewan. What do you expect me to do? We cannot man this ship just the two of us.”

“You can recruit some men quickly enough. Offer some coin in the local tavern. It will be easy enough.”

Drake chuckled. “Very well. You stay here, I shall find some men.”

“Oh no, I’m coming with you.” Ewan came closer and Drake grunted when he pressed the pistol into his side.

“What fool man would sign up to crew a ship when the captain has a gun pointed at his ribs?”

“Damn it, Drake, do not make me shoot you.”

Drake shook his head. “This is a fool’s errand and you know it.”

“Drake,” the man hissed. “I will kill you.”

Drake shrugged. “Go ahead. I’d like to see you try to sail this ship alone.”

Julianna’s legs trembled beneath her. Why could Drake not pretend to go along with it? Why did he try to rile him? That man was risking certain death and for what?

Ewan eased back and lifted the pistol. “I only need your ship.”

She could bear it no more. “No!” She jumped up and wood exploded not far from her. The gun shot rang across the harbor.

“Julianna!” Drake exclaimed.

Frozen, she stared at the smoking pistol. Drake reacted more quickly, knocking the gun from the man’s hand and striking him in the face with a fist. Blood exploded from Ewan’s nose and he released a squeal of pain. Drake drew back his fist again and knocked the man to the floor. He kicked out, forcing Ewan to curl into a ball. Julianna scurried out from behind the boxes and grabbed Drake’s arm.

“Don’t! You will kill him!”

Drake tore away from her and kicked him again. “That is the idea,” he grunted.

“No! Please. You’ll be hung for murder,” she begged. “Drake!”

He stilled at the sound of his name. His eyes seemed to cloud over, his expression grim. He gave Ewan one last kick. “I will kill you if I see you again,” he vowed, his voice cold and dark.

The man half-crawled, half stumbled to the edge of the ship, drawing himself up to stagger down the gangplank. Drake watched him go while Julianna gripped his arm. She felt tremors in his body and heard his heavy breaths. Sweat shone on his skin.

He whirled once Ewan was out of sight, tearing from her grip. “What the devil are you doing here? You were almost killed.”

“I—”

“Damn it, Princess.” His hand shook as he thrust one through his hair. “What if he’d shot you? What would I have told Knight? What would I have told myself?”

“Drake, I—”

“You don’t belong here, Julianna. You shouldn’t even be in Cornwall.” He swiped a hand over his sweaty face and leaned against one of the masts. “Damn it.” He kicked a lone bucket, the rattle of it rolling across the deck making Julianna jump.

“It’s fine, Drake.” She eased toward him, closing the gap. He’d been like this after he’d stopped those men from grabbing her. She remembered it now. But why? She’d been scared too but now she felt flushed with excitement. The man had been beaten and would never return.

“You could have been—” He looked at her, his eyes stark, and glanced away. “Damn it all to hell.” He slammed a fist against the mast.

Julianna put a hand to his arm and felt his muscles tense beneath her fingers. “I am well. All is well.” She smoothed her palm up and down his arm, listening to his ragged breaths as they slowed. He glanced at her sideways and she saw the humanity slipping back into his gaze.

“You shouldn’t have been here,” he muttered.

“If I had not have been, you would have killed him.”

“I wanted to kill him because he nearly shot you.”

She shook her head. “No, I think there’s something more to this than that. Why did he enrage you so much? You never normally seem to have a temper.”

He tilted his head back against the mast and eyed the skies. Julianna continued to rub her hand up and down his arm.

“It’s hard to explain, Princess.”

“I have time.”

His chest heaved, and he lowered his head to look at her. He wanted to tell her all, she knew it, but a man like Drake did not open up easily. No man did but Drake was likely the most stubborn of all. If she could just persuade him...

“Is it to do with that scar? And your limp?”

Drake’s head snapped to her and he straightened, his whole body towering over her. His eyes had lost that vulnerable edge and were hardened with an icy glare. “Why are you even here, Princess? What is it about what I do that has you so enraptured? Don’t you have a floor to clean or a breakfast to burn?”

She opened her mouth then shut it again.

“Better yet, go back to wherever you came from. You make a terrible serving girl. Go back to your parlor room and whatever it is that refined ladies do.” He bore down on her. “Go bloody embroider or something. There’s no place for you here and I definitely don’t want you on my damned ship.”

“Well, there’s—”

“Did you not hear me? Get lost, Princess.”

Hands to her hips, Julianna lifted her chin. “I won’t be going anywhere. Cornwall is as much my home as it is yours. I do not see why I should be treated so abominably when I was only trying to help. Just because you are so closed off and hard-hearted, does not mean you should take it out on me. It’s obvious you have a problem—”

“My only problem here is you.”

Jabbing his chest with a finger, she closed the small gap between them. “Now, see here—”

He snatched away the finger and used it to pull her completely into him. His bare chest pressed against hers. His eyes were still hard but in the moonlight, she could see them flare. Molten heat travelled through her veins, igniting a spark in her belly.

His hands latched onto her upper arms and he pushed her back to the boxes behind which she’d been hiding. Her back met the crates and she sucked in a breath as she was crushed between the wood and his body. Her breaths came fast and heavy. She swallowed and let her gaze linger on his mouth then his eyes and back to his mouth.

Every part of her screamed for something. She wasn’t sure what.

Liar.

She knew what. Kiss me. It ran over and over in her mind. Kiss me.

It seemed like an eternity. A forever of staring at him while he stared back, his breathing matching hers. The sensation of his flesh so hard and unyielding stoked the fire in her belly until it was an inferno.

“You’re driving me to insanity, Princess,” he muttered before lowering his mouth to hers.

He gave her no quarter. She was pinned. By his mouth, by his body. She let her hands hang limply at her sides while his fingers pressed into her arms. But with her mouth, she kissed him back, reveling in the softness of his lips, in the hardness of his kiss, in the fierceness of his tongue. He kissed the same way he lived life—without apology.

And she wanted more.