Hart's Desire (Pirates & Petticoats Book 1)

by Chloe Flowers

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Hart’s Desire

  Dedication

  Disclaimer

  A Letter to You

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Here's a sample of Hart's Passion

  Chapter Two

  Amazon Readers

  Ruth's Recipes

  Pirates & Petticoats Novel Three

  By Chloe Flowers

  Copyright © 2016 Chloe Flowers

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, translate or transmit in any form through any medium by any means.

  Published By: Flowers & Fullerton

  www.flowersandfullerton.com

  Edited by Heather Whitaker and The Editing Hall

  Cover Design by Earthly Charms

  ISBN:1-63303-998-6

  ISBN-13: 978-1-63303-998-8

  Hart’s Desire:

  An independent young lady meets a bold merchant captain pursued by a band of Caribbean pirates...what could possibly go wrong?

  After a daring escape, Captain Landon Hart sails the Desire to Charleston for repairs and to keep a mysterious appointment with a plantation owner. He meets a sword-wielding, fiery-haired tempest on the way, and he isn't prepared for the impact she has on his tightly guarded heart...nor the trouble she manages to attract.

  Keelan Grey had a solid plan that would save her from an arranged marriage to a cruel plantation owner until a deathbed confession from a loved one plunges her into a dark plot of deception and revenge.

  Desperate for help, Keelan finds an unlikely ally in the exasperating but irresistible sea captain. But while she trusts him with her life, can she trust him with her secrets?

  Thanks to Kathleen Woodiwiss and her novel A Rose in Winter,

  I became an avid reader of Historical Romance.

  Thanks to Peter Pan and The Pirates of the Caribbean,

  I became a fan of pirate tales (real and imagined).

  Thanks to the Sunshine Critique Group: Wendy Larken, Kate Pembrooke,

  Vicki, Miranda Liasson and Sheridan Jeane,

  I became a writer.

  Thanks to Bella Andre, Barbara Freethy, Courtney Milan

  and the rest of Indie Romance Ink,

  I became a better writer.

  Thanks to my tall, dark, and handsome husband,

  and his patience and encouragement, I’m living my dream.

  And thanks to you, I have a new reader.

  I would not be a published author otherwise…

  I’m grateful and blessed.

  CAF

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, (living or dead) events or places is entirely coincidental.

  Bonus material: Please enjoy the first few pages of the next book in the Pirates and Petticoats novels, Hart’s Passion, inserted at the end of Hart’s Desire!

  I’ve also included some recipes prepared by Ruth, one of the characters in Hart’s Desire. The dishes Ruth served were inspired by recipes from: An Antebellum Household Journal Including the South Carolina Receipts and Remedies of Emily Warton Sinkler, by Anne Sinkler Whaley LeClercq. I purchased it in Charleston when touring a plantation home; it’s filled with wonderful information about life in the Low Country.

  Dear Reader,

  I am honored that you have decided to read my book.

  This is my first published novel, and I have several more coming soon. I’d love to hear your comments. Your opinion means a lot to me and I’d appreciate any feedback you’d like to share. Although this book has been professionally edited and proofread, there are always mistakes and typos that are missed. If you find one, please, please let me know!

  I freely admit that I have taken historical events and used them as an opportunity to imagine what my characters would say, do and feel in that moment in time. Those words, actions and thoughts may not ever show up in written documentation of that period, but who’s to say that those words weren’t said, those actions weren’t tried, those thoughts weren’t thought?

  You can also email me personally at chloeflowerswriter@gmail.com, if you prefer to communicate directly, or via snail mail (and if you’d like a print book signed, send it here):

  Flowers & Fullerton Publishing

  3593 Medina Road

  Suite 165

  Medina, Ohio 44256

  If you enjoy this book, please consider leaving a review and loaning this book to your friends. :0)

  Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for reading!

  Fondly,

  Chloe Flowers

  Want to be part of Chloe’s review team? Opt in on the newsletter sign up page on Chloe’s website.

  Chloe’s Newsletter also contains information on new releases and recipes:

  http://chloeflowers.com/contact/

  Follow on Twitter: https://twitter.com/flowers_chloe @flowers_chloe

  Follow on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/chloe.flowerswrites

  Website: http://chloeflowers.com/about-chloe/

  Other Books By Chloe Flowers (For all Amazon customers worldwide)

  Pirates & Petticoats Novels:

  Hart’s Desire

  Harts Passion

  Hart’s Reward (June 2016)

  Pirate Heiress (August 2016)

  Pirate King (September 2016)

  Coming Fall 2016: The Bridal Veil Falls Series, a contemporary romance set in a small town in upstate New York that boasts it’s “The Town of Happily Ever Afters.”

  Other Books on Amazon by Chloe Flowers:

  Author Page on Amazon: www.author.to/ChloeFlowers

  Pirates & Petticoats Novels:

  One: Hart’s Desire www.myBook.to/HartsDesire

  Two: Harts Passion www.myBook.to/HartsPassion

  Three: Hart’s Reward www.myBook.to/HartsPassion

  Four: Pirate Heiress (July 2016)

  Five: Pirate King (September 2016)

  Coming Fall 2016!

  The Bridal Veil Falls Series

  A contemporary romance set in a small town in upstate New York that boasts it’s “The Town of Happily Ever Afters.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  Charleston, South Carolina

  May 1811

  Two figures circled, each with a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. The first stood tall and lithe. His blade flashed, barely visible in the early morning light. His opponent, smaller in both build and height, quickly used his dagger to block the slicing blade.

  Merchant ship captain, Landon Hart, and his best friend and business partner, Captain Conal O'Brien, crept to the edge of the clearing for a better view of the duel.

  “We’ll skirt the meadow and keep behind the cover of the trees,” Landon said in a low voice. As an orphaned youth, he’d been in his fair share of unbalanced skirmishes. In more familiar surroundings, rather than among the vast plantation estates outside the city of Charleston, he would have already intervened. As i
t was, he and Conal had just turned down the lane to Twin Pines when they heard the clash of swords nearby.

  A thick layer of dead pine needles on the forest floor muffled their steps. Soon they were close enough to hear the whisper and hiss of the blades slicing the air, followed by the strident metallic clash and ching as sword met sword.

  Although the larger man had tinges of gray at his temples, he moved with a seasoned grace and nimble ease. Fluid arcs followed quick thrusts in seamless sequence. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows, shirt tucked into his breeches.

  The boy’s breeches were thin at the knees and stuffed into a pair of boots several sizes too large. A faded blue length of cloth wrapped his head, tied at the base of his neck where the tail hung halfway down his back. Even in the over-sized boots that threatened to trip him up with every thrust, the surprisingly quick and light-footed waif held his own.

  Landon glanced around the rest of the meadow. The two duelers seemed to be alone. There were no mounts or wagons nearby, so this didn’t appear to be an ambush or an attempt at a robbery. He saw no seconds to serve as witnesses, nor a physician standing ready, so perhaps not a planned duel. But then, what was it?

  Conal leaned closer, keeping his voice low. “Doesn’t seem a fair fight. I’m going to put a stop to it.” His eyebrows shot up as the boy’s dagger flashed in an arc away from his body, catching the upper shaft of his opponent’s sword. The youth beat the tip away and began his own attack with his long blade.

  “Wait.” He placed a hand on Conal’s arm. His friend had a knack for acting first and thinking second when it came to physical confrontations. “I don’t think it’s an earnest fight,” Landon murmured, as he studied the movements of the duelers. “It seems to me that it’s a training session of some sort. Let’s see how the young one fares. I find it peculiar a grubby whelp wields such a fine weapon but wears such poorly fitted boots.”

  Conal watched another moment and nodded his agreement. He relaxed and leaned a shoulder against a tree trunk.

  “Step away, Keelan,” the older man said in a clipped British accent. He swung his sword in a swift upward flash toward the lad’s shoulder. “You are offering too short a path to your middle. It leaves you vulnerable to my long blade.”

  In answer, the urchin, Keelan, slashed his sword diagonally down across his opponent’s exposed stomach, neatly slicing a ten-inch swath in the older man’s linen shirt.

  “You mean like that, Daniel?” he retorted with a barely contained smirk.

  “He’s but a lad barely weaned,” Conal whispered. “His voice still has the high pitch of a child.”

  The two combatants paused. Daniel scowled at the tear in his shirt. Lunging forward, he swung his weapon in a rapid combination while the boy tried valiantly to block the attack. The blows thundered harder, the blade hissing like an angry snake. However, it wasn’t the man’s skill that brought the boy down.

  It was the boots.

  The thick meadow grass snagged his heel and foiled his hasty retreat. With a loud “Oof!” Keelan went down hard onto his backside, the jolt knocking the sword from his grasp.

  “You are finished,” Daniel said. He pointed the tip of his weapon to the boy’s chest.

  “Perhaps it is time to make our presence known,” Landon said, stepping from the shelter of the trees. If he was wrong about the training, another moment’s delay could mean the boy’s life. He wouldn’t stand idly and allow the outmatched lad to be harmed. “Hold!”

  Daniel’s head jerked up. As soon as the shout distracted the man, Keelan reacted. He kicked his legs up and somersaulted backward, losing both boots in the process. The maneuver put him in a crouched position ready to fight again. He threw his dagger.

  Landon and Conal both yelped and dove to the ground as the weapon whizzed over their heads and landed on the forest floor somewhere behind them.

  Daniel shook his head. “Your throw was not balanced.” With his hand on his hip, he stood over Keelan and jabbed the air with his sword. “Your chest must point to your target before you release.”

  “What matters is I threw first, which yields me five points!” The boy flexed his hand and licked the inside of his thumb. “It beats the three you get for disarming me, aye, Daniel? I win our game today.”

  Daniel glanced at his wounded shirt, then over at the trees where Keelan had thrown the dagger.

  “An interesting game,” Landon said, brushing his trousers as he got back to his feet.

  Daniel turned toward them, pointing the tip of his sword at Landon’s chest before stepping in front of the boy. “Have you business at Twin Pines?”

  Conal stepped forward, drawing the movement of Daniel’s sword with him. “My uncle, Fynn Ahern, scheduled a meeting with Commodore Grey for this morning.”

  Daniel lowered his sword. “The Commodore does indeed have an appointment with a Mr. Ahern today. Why is he not with you?”

  Conal cleared his throat. “Mr. Ahern is dead. I’m Captain Conal O'Brien of the Seeker. This is my business partner, Landon Hart, captain of the Desire. We were Mr. Ahern’s business associates.”

  Daniel shook Conal’s hand before he addressed Keelan once more. “Your skills have developed well. I’m proud of your progress.” He deftly flipped his own dirk from his hand. The knife hit the same tree where, moments before, Conal had stood. It hit with a solid thunk, and the bottom half of a feather wedged into the bark, fluttered lazily to the ground.

  He shot a glance at Keelan. “Your impatience and lack of concentration denied you the ten points you would have had if you actually had hit the target. Instead, you’re left with a meager five points and a nasty little cut.” He reached down and helped the lad up. “Is it deep?”

  “No, only a scratch. Slaney will rub marigold tincture on it and it’ll be fine.” Keelan warily eyed the two strangers as he retrieved his stray boots.

  “You have us at a disadvantage, sir,” Conal said.

  Daniel put a hand to his chest and introduced himself. “I’m Daniel Hunter, valet to Commodore George Grey, the newest owner of Twin Pines Plantation.” He sheathed his sword and wiped his brow with his sleeve. Although only a couple of hours after sunrise, the air was thick and still, his shirt already damp with sweat from the exertion of dueling.

  Landon assessed the boy. His shoulders, though slight, were straight and proud. Not much muscle to his arms. His wrists were thin, almost feminine, making Landon even more impressed with Keelan’s skill. Recalling the trials of his own youth, before Conal’s Uncle Fynn had taken him under his wing, he understood Keelan’s desire to best a skill.

  “You’re quick for one so young,” Landon said.

  The boy shot an uneasy glance toward Daniel, grabbed an oversized boot and shoved his foot inside.

  “Well, yes, er...” Daniel glanced at the ragged figure busy snatching the second rebellious boot from the grass. The valet shrugged. “The lessons are for the child’s protection. Several family members recently died under rather suspicious circumstances, so Keelan’s father has decided the training should become more intense.”

  “Your hand with a sword is impressive, Keelan.” Landon gestured toward Daniel. “It’s apparent you are being given excellent instruction.”

  Daniel smiled and inclined his head, accepting the compliment.

  “My crew and I must be keen with sword, pistol and dagger, if we’re to survive encounters with privateers and pirates on the seas. We all must do our part to defend the ship. May I voice an observation?” he asked.

  “Please do,” said Daniel.

  He gestured to Keelan’s dagger. “Work on the short blade further. ’Tis a more valuable skill to have.” The lad tensed so he smiled to put him at ease but peered at him more closely. There was something strange about the boy that seemed a bit…off.

  The youth slammed his booted foot on the ground and straightened, his face flushed. “I don’t normally miss so badly,” he muttered. “I suppose a sailor can do better?”

&nbs
p; Daniel’s eyes narrowed in apparent warning, and the boy dropped his gaze and busied himself by brushing the meadow grass from his sleeves before straightening the faded blue rag covering his head.

  “I didn’t mean to offend.” Amused by the lad’s pluck he added, “But in answer to your question, aye, any of my crew can do better. If not, they wouldn’t be part of the crew for long. Now, if you’ll adjust your grip like so…” Pulling out his own dagger, he placed it in the boy’s hand, careful to avoid the cut. He moved behind and reached around the lad’s chest to adjust his grip. “Mr. Hunter is correct about facing your chest to the target. But, you must also cock the hand back, like this.” He flexed the boy’s wrist. “Try it.”

  Keelan stood still, taut as a fiddle string, his other fist clenched at his side. Daniel took a step forward then stopped, as if someone else’s legs were attached to his body and he wasn’t sure how to move them.

  “Widen your stance a bit and bring this foot forward.” Landon placed his leg against the inside of the boy’s thigh and kicked his foot away and forward then squeezed his shoulders and gave them a rough shake. “Relax.”

  Oddly, Keelan remained motionless. Was the boy angry with him for his tutelage? Keelan seemed to struggle to remain composed. Landon frowned, how irritating the runt acted so ungratefully. At that age, he would have lapped up this lesson like a thirsty pup. He'd been on his own from a young age, and he grew up fast. He learned many harsh lessons in the process. Not the least had been how to defend himself against a bigger opponent.

  Landon stepped back. He half expected the child to fling the blade into the pines as hard as he could, and stomp away. But pride seemed to outweigh Keelan’s anger, and he relaxed his shoulders. He balanced the blade in his hand, drew back, cocked his wrist, and threw it. It hit the tree with a thunk, pinning the top half of the feather to the bark. The boy pursed his lips; Landon couldn’t tell whether it was in grim satisfaction or acute irritation that the instruction had corrected his flaw.