Hart's Passion (Pirates & Petticoats Book 2)

by Chloe Flowers

  Perhaps the last confrontation Landon and Annette had aboard the Desire had merely been a lover’s spat, which they reconciled at Doreen’s ball. The darker question gripped her mind. After securing Keelan’s passage aboard the Glory, had Landon sought out Annette to accompany him south?

  Was that the reason he kept the Seeker waiting?

  Keelan tried to swallow the rock forming in her throat. Could she stand to watch Landon and Annette together?

  “I wonder what Hart’s reaction will be when he sees Garrison aboard this ship.” Daniel crossed his arms with a confidence she did not share. “My bet would be he’s bound and turned over to the Charleston authorities.”

  “But, Daniel,” she whispered. “If he’s taken to jail and charged with kidnapping me, won’t I have to bear witness to the charges?”

  Daniel was silent as he pondered her words. “True enough,” he responded. “’Tis better to keep our enemies close, where we can watch them. We have the advantage. He doesn’t know we’re aboard. Take care, Miss Keelan, to stay as inconspicuous as you can.” He looked toward the main cabin. “I’ll find a quiet moment to have a word with Captain Hart about our circumstances.”

  “Nay, Daniel, please don’t!” The words fell from her lips before she could stop them.

  He turned to her, surprise evident on his face. “In heaven’s name, why not?”

  Taking an unsteady breath, she stared at her clasped hands, not willing Daniel to witness her pain as she spoke. “I’d rather not burden the captain with my state of affairs at the moment. He might well feel obligated to take charge of my protection, and I will not be any more indebted to him than I am already. It’s obvious to me much weighs on his mind at the moment, and I shall not add to his burden.”

  Daniel bent to peer at her. “It’s my understanding the man cares about you deeply. Your protection would be less an obligation and more of a concern on his part.”

  Daniel had not seen Landon’s interactions with Annette; he did not know their history.

  She lowered her gaze and murmured. “I am uncertain of my standing with him at the moment, Daniel. It appears he has invited one of his previous mistresses to join him on his journey.” She tilted her head in Annette’s direction.

  Daniel’s features darkened briefly, then it softened in understanding. “We shall remain anonymous for a while then. At least until we can determine where every one stands.” He patted her hand affectionately. “It is unwise to make assumptions, Miss. Better to seek the facts of the matter.”

  As she pondered his words, her mind thrashed about in indecision. More than Landon’s affection for her was at stake now. Her life was in jeopardy as well.

  Daniel crossed his arms and nodded. “Let’s bide our time for a few days and watch them. There will be plenty of opportunities to exit the ship in Harbour Town or Philadelphia.”

  Keelan glumly nodded in agreement. She shifted her gaze back to the end of the pier and caught her breath.

  Orvis was back at his post.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  She’d done her best both to help the sailors as well as stay out of their way. Remus took her under his wing and gave her several specific tasks to perform. Unfortunately she had to go to the starboard side to complete them, removing her chance to watch the pier.

  When she went to back a couple of hours later, she chanced a quick glance at the pier long enough to notice Orvis was no longer at his post. That should’ve given her some sense of relief, but instead, an uneasy shadow settled in her chest.

  “Weigh anchor, lads!” Conal braced his legs, hands on his hips. “Hands to braces, set topsails, let down the sheets and haul to run free!”

  The anchor was raised, and the hoisted sails billowed full and urgent. The crew looked with satisfaction at the brisk gusts filling the canvas.

  Landon stood near the helm, issuing additional instructions as sheets were adjusted and lashed. The sails snatched the wind, and the Seeker glided swiftly to open sea. Landon was as much a part of the ship as the mainmast. Standing with legs braced wide, the only disturbance in his countenance was the lingering look he gave to the Charleston harbor and the stoic expression on his face.

  What was he thinking? Keelan glanced at the harbor and her heart suffered a brief pang of grief as she recalled standing by Papa’s side the day their ship dropped anchor a couple years ago. She’d been grieving the loss of her mother.

  Her life had been on a different path, then.

  The wind gently moved them out from the waterfront and parallel to the shoreline. Charleston shrank quickly into the distance as the Seeker gained speed at the expert hands of her crew.

  Landon stood straight and tall at the helm. So far, she had managed to stay out of his way, but, eventually their paths would cross. A part of her yearned for it, as much as dreaded it.

  She swallowed, but couldn’t squelch the prickly sense of foreboding that gripped her. How far would this charade take them? Would Landon recognize her before she was ready to doff her disguise? More importantly, would he be glad she was here? She clenched her teeth. Or would her presence ruin his plans with Annette Camsby?

  After reaching deeper waters, the Seeker swung southward again, and the shore returned as a distant dark green line on the horizon. It seemed odd a ship should sail so far from the shore when it would soon make port again.

  Henry had stepped up to the rail next to her, so she voiced her question to him.

  He gestured toward the low line of land to the right. “There be a lot of sand bars and small islands along this coast, lad. Many a vessel has been run aground by less experienced captains. Easy pickin’ fer the pirates then. Cap’n chooses to try to make them work a bit harder to catch us.” He grinned.

  Keelan gripped the rail nervously. “Do many pirates prey in these waters?” She thought of Gampo.

  “Not as much as back when.” Henry shrugged. “Blackbeard hisself raked these seas fer years. Why, Blackbeard’s men stole ashore in Charleston one day and kidnapped a good number of prominent townsfolk quite a few years ago. He ransomed them fer medicine fer his crew.” The man winked and then chuckled, “His men had the clap, ye see, and Captain Blackbeard knew they would not be able to keep their mind on their work if their cocks were itchin’ like the devil.”

  The stain on her skin had better be masking the heat creeping up her cheeks. She ducked her head to hide her embarrassment and pretended to scan the shoreline. “Did he get the medicine?”

  “Aye. He did. Put him out of business fer a while, still.”

  A flash of silver caught Keelan’s eye, and the Widow Camsby floated by toward the steps leading to the helm. Landon seemed to note her approach and moved away from the wheel permitting the helmsman to take over. He descended the steps and met her near the rail where Keelan and Henry stood.

  Annette made no effort to lower her voice.

  “Good day, Captain Hart,” she smiled sweetly over the frilly fan she fluttered before her face. “I sent word with your man before we set sail that I wished to speak with you privately, but alas, you never came. I am forced to seek you out instead.” She pouted and angled partly away from him coyly and waved her fan at her chest. Keelan narrowed her eyes at the shameless flirtation.

  Henry made a small choking noise. Landon shot a warning look over Annette’s shoulder at the old sailor, even as a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. With an eyebrow arched, he then turned his attention to the young widow fluttering in front of him like a moth.

  “Good day, Madame Camsby.” He gave her a slight bow before gesturing at the ship around them. “As you can see, I have been a bit busy. Do you have a concern you wish to share with me?”

  Keelan gulped and pulled the brim of her hat lower, while casting surreptitious glances at the pair.

  Annette maintained her pout. “Well, yes, I do.”

  He waited, hands clasped behind his back.

  “I had expected for you, as host, to see to the comforts of your p
assengers more appropriately," she chastised, in a hurt tone. “These voyages are extraordinarily boring. I need some companionship." She batted her long black lashes then lowered her voice. “Join me in my cabin this evening. We’ll sup together.”

  Landon focused his attention on Annette and bowed graciously. “Forgive my poor manners, Madame Camsby. I would be honored if you would join me for dinner this evening at eight.”

  It was as she’d feared. Landon and Annette seemed to be rekindling their relationship. It was time for her to move away. She’d heard enough.

  Annette lowered her lashes as a slow smile seeped across her face. She lowered her fan and swayed it in a slow sultry motion in front of her very ample bosom, which was barely contained within the bodice of her gown.

  She’d seen enough. Clenching her fists until her nails bit into her palms, Keelan turned away.

  Landon continued, “Captain O’Brien and I have yet to meet the other passengers aboard. Tonight’s dinner will give us all an opportunity to become better acquainted. I will then be able to introduce you to your fellow passengers, so you will have others to talk with to break the monotony.”

  His words made Keelan pause. He’d given her a very subtle rejection. She chanced a quick sideways glance at Annette from under the brim of her hat.

  Annette’s pleased expression faltered a little, but she nodded her head. “I look forward to this evening.” She slapped her fan shut and made to leave, then paused before stepping closer to Landon. She placed her hand familiarly on his chest and murmured something to him. He shrugged in response, and she smiled wider as he offered his arm. They strolled away in the direction of the aft deck.

  Keelan shoved her hands in her pockets and stepped away from the rail before she pushed Annett over it and into the churning sea below. What was Landon’s plan? Had he invited his mistress to sail with him or not? With those barbs tumbling around in her mind, she went below to check if Marcel was in need of her assistance. Pondering Landon’s motivations and being near Annette’s flirtations only gave her a headache.

  Keelan spent the next couple of hours helping the cook prepare supper for the captain, passengers, and crew, serving up rice and salted fish into their various bowls and trenchers. She wasn’t yet used to the bawdy comments and jokes the men tossed around and her ears burned as she served helpings of Hopping John.

  Marcel flew about the small galley like a fly in a jar, chopping sweet potatoes and stirring the pudding. He took a spoon, dipped it into the soup, and after blowing to cool it, took a sip. “Ah!” Marcel said, pleased. “Ze first meal at ze captain’s table must be perfect," he said with a flourish of hands. “All ze passengers will be dining wiz him and Captain Hart tonight.” He cocked his head and peered at her more closely.

  “You are most solemn, young Mahdi, is all well with you?”

  Images of Landon and Annette together had been pestering her mind like a swarm of gnats flying around inside her head. She did her best to squelch them. It would not do for her to draw any extra attention from the cook. She had to keep her charade consistent and believable.

  “Aye, sir. Just a bit off-balance. Remus said it might take a day or two before I got my sea legs.”

  “Ah,” the cook nodded. “I have a remedy.” He reached for a small tin and pulled out a dried piece of root. He sliced off a small bit and gave it to her. “Chew on this a while. It will help.”

  “What is it?” She eyed it curiously.

  “Root of Ginger. Chew it.”

  She did as she was told and found the flavor unique and sharply pleasant.

  Marcel pointed to the wooden box under the chopping block. “Pull out ze dishes and goblets from zat trunk over there.”

  Keelan opened the trunk and removed the woolen cover. Beneath it lay neatly stacked pewter plates, bowls, goblets and silver placed between layers of thick woolen squares.

  The galley had two doors. One opened to a short hallway leading to the stairs and upper deck. She hadn’t opened the second door. Marcel gestured to it now as he dunked a piece of bread into the sauce to sample.

  “Set ze Captain’s table. You will find ze linens in a cupboard in zere.”

  Keelan nodded and counted out the number of plates she would need. They clinked softly as she removed the cloth separating them and placed them in a neat stack. Nimbly stepping around the mumbling cook, she lifted the latch with her elbow and nudged the door open with her shoulder.

  On the right, was a desk strewn with papers and maps, as if someone had impatiently tossed them there. The desk was tightly affixed to the corner walls. Cupboards covered the rest. How many she would have to go through before she found the one housing the table linens? The opposite wall contained another door, perhaps a closet.

  The table stood directly in front of her, its end bolted to the wall. The two long benches tucked neatly underneath were surrounded by a raised border of narrow planks, keeping them from sliding away.

  She couldn’t find the linens while holding the plates, so she moved back to the cluttered desk and gently shoved the papers and maps aside to put them down.

  “I thought I was helping by clearing off the table.”

  She jumped, losing her grip on the plates. They tottered and began to slide toward the floor. The top two clattered on the wooden planks. A long bare arm reached over and steadied those that remained. Landon’s handsome profile stirred a mixture of surprise, trepidation, and suppressed joy. He bent to retrieve the fallen items.

  “I’m sorry if I startled you," he said. “You’re the new galley boy, young Mr. Mahdi, correct?”

  She hunched her shoulders, ducked her head and nodded, afraid to speak. She would have stepped further away if she could trust the rest of the dishes to stay put.

  Landon collected the fallen plates and placed them on a bench. She glanced at his tanned bare back, and the muscles rippling beneath his skin with his movements. He straightened and pointed to the cupboard nearest the galley door.

  “You’ll find the linens in there," he said. “Please tell Marcel our guests have all accepted the invitation for dinner this evening.”

  She faced the cupboards, keeping her back to him and listened as he walked away. It had never occurred to her his cabin could be accessed directly off the galley. She groaned. Now she would have to be ever vigilant to his comings and goings and not relax her charade even a little.

  His voice startled her. “And, boy…”

  She paused.

  “The passengers are to be treated with the utmost respect, regardless of your personal feelings. Understood?”

  Her stomach jumped as she shifted to peer at him from beneath the brim of her hat. Did he suspect anything?

  Landon stood inside his cabin door, hand on the knob, and ran the other through the glossy black curls on his head. “While I have been told you are quite capable of taking care of yourself against thieves and ruffians, and it appears you have a keen ear for a yarn, I fear you might be lacking experience in the area of dueling with a woman’s tongue and mood. Be warned that Mrs. Camsby tends to take out her anger on the nearest warm body.” He glanced at her, a small pained smile played at his lips. “’Tis in your best interest to steer clear of her, as her mood on this trip may be quite dour.”

  Lips tightening, she nodded again.

  “Good. Please tell Marcel to set out a bottle of Madeira. If I recall correctly, Mrs. Camsby has a liking for it.”

  She flinched and tried to ignore the sudden anger beginning to roil inside her. Of course he would stock his mistress’s favorite wine! She clenched her jaw and nodding once more, didn’t move or breathe until she heard him close the door.

  She yanked open a cupboard. Steer clear of Widow Camsby, indeed! She huffed at the notion Landon Hart viewed her as a whipping boy. She’d like to see Annette try to strike her. Or was he warning her away from that gaudy piece of skirt like a prancing stag in rut?

  “Sail away with him, huh!” She grabbed the tablecloth and shook it
out with an angry jerk. “I am out of his sight for a fortnight and he is already strutting like a dandy to another. Lies, lies, lies.”

  His words were a farce, designed to steal a kiss, perhaps even take her virtue simply for sport. With his lusts appeased, he would have left her for the next feminine form to catch his eye. Apparently, he preferred his more experienced mistress to accompany him at sea.

  She grabbed the plates from the desk and dumped them on the table with a loud clatter. She moved around the table, slapping them down as she went.

  “The arrogant lout. Conceited cad.”

  An amused voice sounded from the captain’s doorway. “Have the trenchers insulted you, Mahdi? From the din you were making, I was sure you had been attacked by an angry stack of pewter platters.”

  She jumped. Landon’s head poked out from behind his cabin door.

  “Nay, sir," she said in a low voice, as she placed the last plate on the table. “I am sorry for disturbing you.” She briskly escaped through the door into the galley.

  When she entered, Marcel pointed to two steaming buckets near the door.

  “Take zem to Captain Hart. Ze bath iz filled but for ze hot water.”

  Scowling, she opened her mouth to protest and then closed it again, as she could give no good reason to avoid her duty without arousing the cook’s suspicion. Fine. She’d simply knock, deposit the buckets inside the room, and let the captain add them to his own bath. Content with her plan, she hefted her burden, nudged the galley door open, and crossed the dining cabin to his door. Still fuming, she knocked smartly with her toe.

  At Landon’s beckoning, she entered the cabin. The water sloshed to and fro in the buckets as she pushed open the door. His furnishings were tasteful without being ostentatious. A mahogany tallboy stood against the far wall, while directly to the left stood a bed of the same, cloaked with a simple navy silk canopy. Next to the tallboy was a closed door, which had to lead to the outside hallway.

  Landon’s voice resonated through the room. “Just pour in the water, Marcel.”