Hart's Desire (Pirates & Petticoats Book 1)

by Chloe Flowers

  The doctor lowered the boy to the ground as Ruth opened the door. After speaking with her for a moment, Dr. Garrison patted Joseph on the shoulder. Apparently, the child was no worse from the harrowing ordeal with the rabid dog. Dr. Garrison offered his arm to Doreen, and the two of them headed back toward the house. It was the first time Keelan had seen Doreen up and about before noon. What had caused her cousin to adjust her schedule? Perhaps she was keen on the doctor. That lifted Keelan’s spirits. Perhaps Doreen’s affections would distract him from her. She could only hope. And pray. And hope more.

  As kind-hearted as the doctor was, Keelan didn’t want to marry him. She didn’t want to marry Pratt for financial reasons, either. She rubbed her eyebrow. She’d do her duty as a good daughter, but it wouldn’t keep her from trying to find a more pleasing route to the altar. She also didn’t want to disappoint her ailing father. If only she could devise a way to please him without having to spend the rest of her life miserable.

  Keelan still held to the dream. Why couldn't she fall in love with a man who set her heart afire and whose kisses left her breathless? She wanted a man willing to lay his heart bare, pledge to her his undying faith and devotion, and gently accept her heart in his hands to cherish and protect until the end of his time.

  But if her uncle and father had their way, she would marry a man simply for convenience.

  If this was to be the case, she’d rather not marry at all.

  Again, her mind wandered to a tall man with wild, black hair and eyes the color of a cloudless sky. His fingers were warm and gentle and the outside of his thigh hard against the softness of the inside of hers. His lips were sweet and passionate, and…

  She willed the image away. Keelan had witnessed the effect her father’s long tours at sea had on her mother. The loneliness which accompanied his absence had turned Mother into a quiet, withdrawn shadow.

  Always sad. Always waiting.

  Keelan whirled from the window and sat down. Reaching for a small dish full of pins, she busied her hands. She selected one and held it waiting, as Slaney worked with her long, russet locks. The maid reached over and plucked the pin from Keelan’s fingers.

  “I did not mean to sound ungrateful before,” she said. “Indeed, Dr. Garrison has been most comforting to my father. He’s a very nice man and genuinely cares about us. I believe he fancies me, and I don’t want to offend him. I only wish I could find a gentle way to tell him I’m not interested in his attentions.”

  Slaney paused and Keelan envisioned the maid’s stern countenance.

  “Then you’d best find the words and ply them to his ears soon, lass. Men can’t stand women who play with them like a sated cat toys with a mouse. It makes them irritable.”

  She turned to Slaney. “I am not some shameless trollop who flirts with men simply for sport.”

  “Of course yer not!” Slaney confirmed in a protective tone then continued, softly chiding, “But ye have made no attempt to tell the man his efforts are in vain, either.”

  “That’s not…” Her denial died on her lips. She set the dish down and tossed the extra pins into it, a twinge of guilt twirling in her stomach. “You’re right. He’s trying hard to help Papa. I can’t stand the thought of hurting his feelings by telling him I don’t welcome his affections. Although he’s a sincere and compassionate man, I can’t love him.”

  “Oft times love comes later, lass.” Slaney placed her hand on her shoulder and gave it a motherly squeeze. “Yer head is full of girlish dreams of a knight in silver armor coming to sweep ye away to his castle in the clouds. But if ye set yer standards at that lofty height, ye might find no one capable of making the climb.”

  “He has the personality of a doorknob.” Keelan paced in front of her father’s bedroom window. “Mr. Pratt’s an old sniffling, drooling beast of a man and I do not wish to marry him, Papa. Please.”

  Her father’s mouth twitched a tiny bit before he narrowed his right eye at her. His morning nap seemed to have renewed some of his strength. He’d wasted no time bringing up the topic of Pratt’s marriage proposal.

  “Keelan, don’t be selfish. Think of what this union could do for our family. It cost a large amount of money for my old friend to clandestinely purchase this plantation and transport the two of us here. The money from the sale of your mother’s shop is almost gone. We can’t afford much more of a delay…” He clutched the bed sheets and stared at his white knuckles, leaving the rest unsaid.

  If they lost the plantation, they would have nothing left, not even enough to invest in rent for a shop. Keelan’s stomach churned. She wanted to be a good daughter and do her duty, but to sacrifice her dreams for a miserable life as an aging plantation owner’s wife left her dismally queasy.

  She turned to face the window in an attempt to hide her growing vexation at her father and bit back the accusation burning on her tongue. If he hadn’t sunk that ship, she’d be running her mother’s shop, instead of living in another country, arguing against a business merger requiring her to marry.

  Her father’s voice dropped, exposing his wounded pride. “Mr. Pratt’s plantation is nearly twice the size of Twin Pines and combined, the property would become the largest in the Low Country.”

  Since Uncle Jared had moved his family to Charleston a couple years earlier, he’d offered to live on the plantation and help run it until she and her father became comfortable with the task.

  Although Uncle Jared did his best, they still faced the end of their first year with dwindling funds and growing uncertainty. They still didn’t have a solid plan for the future generation of income needed to pay their creditors.

  “Father, you are asking too much of me.”

  “Daughter, I am ill. I would like to see you settled comfortably before I die. Don’t begrudge an old man satisfaction on this issue.”

  She turned from the window to face her father. “I can settle myself comfortably without relying on a husband.”

  Especially one older than my father.

  She continued. “I handled all the ledgers for Mother’s shop for many years. I know I could run a business in Charleston that would be as successful. Maybe, more so.”

  She moved to sit on the edge of her father’s bed. “Think of it, Papa." She couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice. “We could buy barrels of exotic spices and fabrics from the southern climes, and sell them not only to the people of Charleston but also to shop owners we know in London.”

  Her mother once had a thriving business back home. It was unconventional for a woman to own and run a business, so the shop had been in her father’s name. But it was her mother who had made the business successful. With her father away at sea for months at a time, the shop not only brought in a steady income, but also kept her mother almost too busy to be lonely. Her father sold it, of course, after her mother died. Rather than using the money to open a similar shop in Charleston, he chose to invest it in Twin Pines.

  She didn't like it. She couldn’t put a finger on the reason why, but it was as if the plantation fit like a shoe that was two sizes too small.

  “You have a good head for numbers, that’s for sure,” her father agreed. “That is why I need you to keep the Twin Pines ledgers in good form.”

  Keelan fidgeted with a loose curl near her ear. “But Father, I’m not comfortable with it. I dislike accounting for people as one would do for livestock. It doesn’t sit well with me.”

  The sound of him shifting in his bed made her alter her attention from the loose button and reach for the water pitcher and glass. Her heart lurched at the sight of her father’s shrinking frame. The sickness that had attacked him on the journey here continued to weaken him as the months passed. Even the continuous efforts of Dr. Garrison hadn’t helped in the least.

  “The new medication brought back from Richmond, is it helping any?” She poured a cup of water for him and pressed it into his hand.

  “Nay. I hate the way it twists in my stomach, but the good doctor said it takes
time to work. I have to trust he knows the way of this sickness.” He sipped the water and gave the glass back to her. She placed it on his bedside table.

  “Hold out your hand, Keelan.”

  Her father held a red ribbon on which was strung a gold ring. A signet ring. “What’s this?”

  “It’s yours. I want you to have it now.”

  She took the ribbon and peered closer at the ring. An interesting gift for her father to buy for her. Without trying it on, she could tell it was way to large for her fingers. Not wanting to hurt Papa’s feelings by pointing that fact out, she smiled brightly at him. “Thank you, Papa. It’s beautiful.”

  “Yes, well it’s an important ring. It has a special story attached to it,” he said.

  “Oh? What story?” She tied the ribbon around her neck and let the ring fall low into the crevice between her breasts.

  “Well, you see…er, the ring once belonged…” He paused and stared up at the ceiling for a moment then batted his hand. “Never mind. I’ll tell you about it another time. You’re probably hungry and eager to have some breakfast.”

  Papa had been having trouble remembering things lately and would occasionally lose his line of thought. Pressing for information about the ring might only embarrass him further, so she simply nodded. “Another time, then. I can’t wait to hear the tale of this ring.”

  Her father’s illness had also added a more urgent impetus to his decisions lately, thus the topic of marriage arose with increased frequency. She closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath.

  Time. She needed more time to develop a good plan to support her cause.

  “Papa, perhaps if we delay making a decision about Mr. Pratt for a while longer, a better solution will present itself after the ball,” she asked hopefully, keeping her voice soft.

  Soothing.

  Her father lowered his bushy brows. “If you’re thinking you’ll be able to persuade your uncle to financially back a shop for you, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. He agrees with me. It’s time for you to marry and start a family.”

  She clenched the arm of her chair. “A shop in Charleston could generate enough income for us to live comfortably. I’d be very, very happy and you never know, perhaps I’d meet a gentleman in the city who will make a suitable husband.”

  She tilted her head and smiled as her father harrumphed. “Papa, you know how much I enjoyed being in town. I’ve always preferred city life to the country. I prefer the more social aspects of city living. Please, Papa.”

  Her father sighed heavily and leaned his head back, closing his eyelids. “Your mother could always bend me to her will the same way as you do now. You have her eyes, you know. Sparkling emeralds of light.”

  His voice slurred a bit. Was the medication finally taking hold?

  “And fiery curls that glowed like burnished copper at dusk.”

  Keelan smiled, although she was a bit perplexed. “Papa, mother’s hair was light brown.”

  Her father’s eyelids twitched as if he was making a feeble effort to open them. “Nay. In her youth, your mother had hair like yours. Losing her was the cruelest punishment God could have dealt me. So many years of longing and grief have left me broken and bitter.” He released a long sigh.

  Keelan had to assume the medicine affected her father’s interpretation of reality. Her mother had been dead barely two years. There had never been much warmth between her parents. Their relationship had always seemed distantly formal, at best. As a child, Keelan prayed for brothers and sisters, with the hope it would create a warmer family circle. Although she dreaded leaving England for a plantation in Charleston, her spirits had been buoyed by the thought of living with her cousin, Doreen. She’d had hopes of the two of them becoming close, like sisters.

  Doreen had been sweet enough at first, but when gentlemen callers began asking to see only her, Doreen’s mood had soured.

  Perhaps it was a dream to one day have a large loving family. But it was her dream, nonetheless. Her father’s current desire to see her wed to Mr. Pratt conflicted directly with her goal, making her determined to find a way to satisfy her father without sacrificing her happiness in the process. There was little time to waste. Losing Papa so soon after her mother would be hard. She’d been alone for years though, really. Her father out at sea, her mother wasn’t there even when she was physically present.

  There was a better solution out there somewhere, and she would find it.

  Sighing, she stood, leaned over to kiss her father’s forehead, and tiptoed from the room. She closed his bedroom door and headed for the stair. The faint clink of china told her breakfast had already been served. Keelan descended to the first floor and neared the dining room entry, pausing when she came within range of the conversation.

  “What brings you to our gentle city, sir?” her aunt asked.

  She froze as a newly familiar voice responded.

  “I have cargo to deliver to our buyers. Additionally, we had a serious skirmish with pirates, leaving our ship in need of repair. It requires us to move the rest of our goods into one of your husband’s warehouses for a few weeks.”

  “Pirates! Oh my!” Aunt Sarah exclaimed, “Captain Hart, how did you ever get away?”

  A low chuckle sent a shiver across Keelan’s shoulders.

  “It sounds much more adventurous than it really was, Mrs. Grey.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Fynn Ahern’s intentions remained a mystery.

  During their meeting, at the mention of Fynn’s name, Landon could have sworn something flickered in the commodore’s eyes.

  Surprise? Anger? Panic?

  Although the man had denied any knowledge of Fynn, Landon didn’t believe him.

  He could tell by the set of Conal’s shoulders that his friend hadn’t been convinced of the commodore’s sincerity either.

  There was nothing more to be said after that, so he and Conal met with Jared Grey, the commodore’s younger brother, to finalize arrangements to rent temporary warehouse space. They would be in Charleston for a few weeks while their ships were in dry dock. Plenty of time to further explore the mystery of Uncle Fynn’s interest in the commodore.

  But all in all, the day hadn’t been a total waste of time.

  There was Keelan, the spirited young lady he’d met today; he appreciated her vivacity, as well as her curves, which she had hidden so well while sparring but revealed more intimately while kissing.

  The most humorous part was that he’d earned another kiss by agreeing to remain quiet and not tell her uncle about her activities, when he had absolutely no idea who her uncle was. Not that it mattered. He had no reason to mention her antics to anyone anyway. Besides, he was a bit chagrined to have been so deceived himself. He should have guessed her fairer gender, if nothing else by the slender fingers and fine wrists. But, she played her part well. He saw what she wanted him to see…a young boy yet to sprout his first whisker.

  He turned his attention back to Mrs. Grey, who’d been asking him about pirates. Thankfully, Conal had been paying attention and answered for him.

  “Well, to better outrun them, we had to lighten the ship, by dumping most of our fresh water and provisions. Thankfully, we were only a day’s sail from port, so our needs weren’t dire.”

  A small movement caught Landon’s attention by the doorway—the edge of a skirt. An eavesdropper? Apparently, Mr. Grey noticed it as well.

  “Well, come in, girl!” Grey barked. “’Tis bad manners to hang by the keyhole. Come meet our guests.”

  Landon prepared to greet the girl Jared Grey called into the room and shoved his chair back to stand along with the rest of the men, expecting the man’s young daughter. Every child gets caught at least once with their eye to a keyhole, spying on the adults inside.

  But it was no little girl who entered.

  “Good morning, Uncle. My apologies. I was surprised to hear unfamiliar voices. I didn’t know we had guests for breakfast.”

  Mrs. Grey turned.
“Oh, Keelan, forgive me! I became so enthralled in Captain Hart’s tales, I completely forgot to send Tillie up to tell you. Come my dear and meet two most fascinating gentlemen.”

  Keelan bent to kiss Mrs. Grey’s cheek then straightened and gazed casually about the room as all the men rose to their feet.

  The girl had transformed from the nervous young chit in the garden to a calmly composed, graceful young lady. He’d witnessed her calm during the frightening episode with the dog, but the demeanor she displayed now went beyond that. By the tilt of her chin and the graceful curve of her neck, she could have passed as an aristocrat’s daughter, a young lady of the court. The simple light green gown fit her perfectly; those curves he touched while kissing her were much more evident now. Even knowing earlier that she wasn’t a boy hadn’t helped his imagination to picture her dressed like a woman.

  At least not this woman.

  How long it would take him to crack that chilly, regal shell of hers?

  Breakfast had just become much more interesting.

  Mr. Grey broke the brief moment of silence. “Gentlemen, allow me to introduce my niece, Miss Keelan Grey. She is the daughter of former Commodore George Grey, my elder brother.”

  Keelan was not sure which was worse, Dr. Garrison and his eager smile of adoration, or the dashing form of Landon Hart, who even now looked at her with a raised eyebrow and a lascivious grin. Although her composure was more fragile than a thin layer of glass, she wanted the arrogant sea captain to believe his presence didn’t rattle her. She bit the inside of her cheek and willed her fluttering stomach to settle.

  She should have expected Uncle Jared to invite the two men to breakfast. She pressed her lips into a thin line; she’d been too distracted by this morning’s events to think ahead clearly.

  Uncle Jared continued, “Keelan, I present to you Captain Hart and his business partner, Mr. O'Brien.”