She slipped outside and down the steps to the garden. The strains of music from the ballroom drifted with her. She ducked beneath the wisteria blossoms dripping from the arbor and followed the garden path lined with tiers of herbs, until she reached the small lake behind the house. It shimmered in the moonlight, like midnight blue silk and diamonds. She recalled the crisp lake water caressing her heated skin and smiled to herself. Sleek black locks and steely arms intruded into the memory, followed by hot, wet kisses and hard, lean thighs. Her breath came out in a puff, and she quickly swallowed another deep sip of wine. Did he come to the ball just to torment her?
As she raised the glass to her lips again, a warm hand closed around hers and gently removed the stem from her grasp.
“Careful, Keelan.” The deep timbre of Landon’s voice resonated with warm humor. “The stairs are much harder to navigate when drunk.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Spoken from experience, Captain?” She tried to sound disinterested, but her words came out thin and breathy, and weak.
He gave her a boyish grin. “You could say that.”
Landon placed her hand on his arm and before she could object, they were waltzing in the garden.
“I don’t want to dance with you!” Although she stopped and tried to pull away, he trapped her hand against his chest.
“Come,” he said. “At least help mend my broken heart by dancing one waltz with me before you wed yon gawky heron,” he said as he nodded toward the house.
“I should not dance with you,” she said, fighting the near panic rising in her chest. “Or even talk with you.” Let him think she said that because she was engaged, rather than the real reason. Rather than admit she had a hard time thinking clearly when he was near. Or admit that his touch made her stomach flutter like a newly hatched bird.
“I beg you, save me from young Miss Doreen,” he pleaded in a mocking tone. “I fear her shawl will slip further.”
She could not keep her mouth from twitching.
“One dance will not harm you, Keelan,” he whispered softly. She pressed her lips together and tried to glare at him. “Will you cause a scene at your cousin’s ball?” he asked, eyebrows cocked.
“Cause a scene? Here in the garden? I could simply return to the house,” she retorted.
“What makes you think I’ll let it be that easy, love?”
He wouldn’t dare cause another commotion, would he? “Haven’t you done enough damage?”
“Damage? I thought I did you a favor. You managed to create a perfect situation where the man your father would’ve had you wed rejected you, and the man you loved only had to announce his intent. That was your plan, correct?” His words clipped through the night air sharply, like horses’ hooves on a paved street.
“Yes. No!” He twisted her words, warped her reasoning, and made her sound so mean and devious. The guilt she felt over the effect her actions had on Doreen made everything sound worse. Or did it clarify things? There’d been no other option that would have helped her attain her objective.
She jumped as he placed his hand on her waist. The heat from his palm had to be melting the fabric of her gown. Her breath stuck in her throat as she met his gaze.
In a low voice, he murmured, “Were you in your cousin’s gown, I would strenuously object to the addition of a shawl, fan, or any other obstacle to my view.”
“That’s because you are a rake.” He enveloped her hand in his and the sensation of his palm against hers left her unable to gather her thoughts. She studied his face and expected again to see a mocking look, but instead saw something hooded, almost dangerous lurking in his eyes. For a moment, she teetered. Should she flee from the garden or allow this to continue? It was fairly harmless, was it not? Not. She could think of many words to describe Landon Hart. Harmless wasn’t one of them.
“Relax, it’s only a waltz,” he murmured in her ear.
He was intruding on her thoughts again. “Fine then let’s get it over with!” she whispered fiercely, unnerved he’d sensed her tension so quickly. Hopefully, the firmness of her voice disguised her frayed nerves. Curse the overpowering effect his very presence had on her peace of mind! Why was she so weak and gullible?
As they danced, she let the distant notes of the music penetrate her senses and soothe her. They glided around the garden path. Their movement had no beginning and no end; it was a constant, fluid motion, moving to the rhythm of the music.
She had to admit he was quite good. After being the brunt of Everett’s clumsy attempts, it was refreshing to dance with a partner who seemed to anticipate the next note to float from the string. The night air was soothing and alive and in spite of everything, she relaxed in his arms. Gone was the tension from acting her ruse; gone were her fears and concerns. She danced in the moment, and she felt free and safe and vibrant. Landon’s long, lean fingers curled around hers and squeezed gently, almost tenderly.
“I think dancing is like a passionate kiss,” he said. “Like the ones we’ve shared. It’s much more pleasurable when you relax, and let the natural movement guide you along.”
“Dancing is nothing at all like kissing, and I don’t think you should speak of sharing anything with me,” she answered, uneasily. Unable to keep the visions he recalled from flooding her senses, she closed her eyelids, which did nothing to make them go away. If anything, it nudged her imagination up a tempo.
“No? Spoken from experience, I gather?” he asked, repeating her earlier question to him.
She pursed her lips in annoyance. He was teasing her again. When she let down her guard a little, he pounced like a panther.
She instantly regretted making eye contact, her attention captured by deep blue eyes that mercilessly refused to release her. In those clear blue pools was an image of the two of them fused together by a kiss radiating white heat. Her pulse quickened with the memory. Could he feel it pounding in her fingers? Then she realized, with some chagrin, he awaited her answer.
“Yes. No. I mean…” her voice trailed off, flustered. What was the question? Something about a kiss? Drat the man. Now her cheeks were on fire. “I have kissed more than enough men to know how to kiss with passion.”
“I seriously doubt that,” he said, amusement twinkling in his eyes.
“Believe what you want, I don’t care,” she shot back.
“Show me.”
No two words could have been more destructive to her peace of mind. “You’ve stolen enough kisses from me to know. You don’t need me to show you,” she replied.
“Oh, but I do.” He gave her a slow mocking grin “You have shown me you can join me in a kiss, but can you spark the flame in my heart all on your own? When I have kissed you, your kisses were sweet and moist. How could they not be, coming from lips like these?” He ran his thumb across her lower lip. “But hear this, my love. It’s the passion I have stirred in you and tasted on your lips which has ensnared my heart.” His gaze fell to her mouth, and she struggled to swallow. “Still, you have much to learn, and I have much I can teach you about the fine art of kissing.”
The heat from her cheeks spread down her neck.
Fine art?
“You must have kissed many, many women to consider yourself so knowledgeable on the subject, that you raise it to the level of an art,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“A few,” he replied still grinning, apparently enjoying her discomfort. “There is more to it than placing your lips against a stone.”
“I have not kissed a…” she recalled Dr. Garrison’s kiss in the garden and snapped her mouth shut.
“A truly passionate kiss takes form when you combine passion and love,” Landon continued, as they moved through the next dance. “It’s extremely difficult to act like a passionately, in-love person when in truth you’re not. In love, that is.”
When Everett had come forward and revealed she had already accepted his proposal, did she appear to others as if she was in love with the doctor? Landon aroused a new worr
y. How would she be able to act as if she was in love with Everett in return? People married without love all the time, did they not?
“I…was not acting,” she scoffed. Did she sound convincing?
Landon leaned forward until his lips almost touched her ear. The light caress of his breath as he spoke made a shiver run across her shoulders. “Were you acting,” he whispered, “when we kissed in the cabin during the storm? Were you acting when you cried out my name after I stroked that sweet, moist spot between your thighs?”
Keelan stared over his shoulder, unable to meet his gaze. That moment had been haunting her dreams every night. Even now, she was having trouble controlling her breathing. She should be ashamed of allowing Landon to be so intimate with her. Should be.
But she wasn’t.
And she didn’t regret it, either. Everett would never be able to stoke that fierce level of passion from her; she was glad at least she’d experienced it once with Landon.
This conversation was moving along a dangerous path. She tried to change the direction.
“Love and passion aren’t as important as other elements of marriage. Fidelity. Honor. Trust. Respect. Those traits create the foundation of a good marriage,” she countered.
“Commendable attributes.” Landon agreed, squeezing her fingers and brushing them with his lips, making her stomach flutter and her breath shorten again. “But what good is building a strong foundation if there is only an empty shell perched upon it?” Landon guided her around a rose bush. “Love and passion give a marriage substance and purpose. Combine that with your foundation of fidelity, honor, trust and respect, and no empire could ever possess greater wealth or strength.”
Her throat tightened. Did Landon Hart, the man who admitted marriage didn’t suit him, truly believe his own words? How could she possibly trust him after finding out he couldn’t prevent his own marriage from faltering?
Was he simply telling her what she wanted to hear in an attempt to seduce her? He probably assumed since she was already taken, he could do so with no repercussions, no firm entanglements. She was unsure of the answer, but she’d keep her guard up.
His warm breath caressed the tender skin around her ear, and a hungry tingling moved down her spine and twirled low in her belly. She was weak and vibrant at the same time. It was a sensation she could have enjoyed, if Landon Hart had been her husband and not a man only concerned with adding her name to his long list of conquests. He played with sweet words and hypnotic touches in ways that made her helpless to object.
In fact, he stirred such a tumultuous whirlwind of desire deep in her core that she ached for his touch.
“What would a man like you know about love?” she whispered hoarsely, “Passion may flow through your veins, your touch might leave young maidens breathless, but can you love only one woman?” Annette Camsby floated to the forefront of her mind along with the image of the two of them conversing earlier, heads close together, her hand on his arm like it was familiar. Landon had been every bit as comfortable with that woman as he was with her. How could she possibly believe she meant anything more to him?
“Can you stay faithful to your wife even when other beautiful women offer themselves to you without demanding the bindings a marriage vow dictates? Can you love the same woman day after day, year after year?”
Landon’s eyes had a fierce light, like a midnight fire. “If she captured my heart and trusted me with hers…yes.”
She laughed her disbelief. “Forgive me if I find your words hard to believe.”
“Has Dr. Garrison offered you the same?” Landon arched a brow.
“He has offered all I…require.” Did her voice betray her lack of confidence?
“So you do not require to be loved,” he responded.
“Of course…I do.”
“So you love him?”
“Of…of course…yes, I do.” The lie tasted sour in her mouth like an unripe grape. She sought to find some words of truth to sooth her irritated conscience. She could love someone without being in love with them, couldn’t she? Slaney’s words echoed in her head. “Sometimes, love comes later.”
Landon cocked his head. “So you are willing to take the chance—that it might not? Even though you just admitted your wish to be loved?”
Blast. She’d dug herself a hole. She couldn’t confirm his statement, because she didn’t believe it either. Her own words had sounded wooden and false, even to her ears.
What she needed was another change of topic. This conversation was dangerously close to revealing the plan she had recently set into motion. The grey and silver tones of the roses in twilight blurred as Landon and Keelan spun together. The heat from his hand began to burn into her waist like a red iron against flesh.
She had to get away from him. He made her feel like a flustered little girl. Keelan stopped dancing and tried to disengage her fingers from his, but he was not cooperating.
“Wouldn’t you rather be kissed every day by a man who passionately loves you…one who is not made of wood?” he said softly. “Rather than someone like Dr. Barn Door?”
“You are an arrogant…” she whispered firmly as she pried his fingers from her waist.
How much did Landon know? Or thought he knew? She spun away from him, away from those eyes that could read her mind easier than a children’s book. Away from the touch that left an imprint of every finger on her waist. Away from the scent of leather and brandy and the spicy soap he used to shave.
The thick, sweet fragrance of magnolia blossoms floated lazily in the night air. Nocturnal creatures of every sort added their song to the evening breeze, bringing the night in like a canopy. The moon was luminous, and her gown glimmered in its light. And she was still spinning.
Keelan inhaled deeply, swaying gently in the soft summer evening. Landon stood close behind her, waiting. His scent taunted her memories. Trapped together while the storm raged around them, he’d made her feel safe. Then. Now, he was only inches from her and the hair on the back of her neck was standing up.
“You are a vision,” he breathed. “Garrison is a dolt. He has no idea he is betrothed to a goddess. Your skin outshines the moonlight, and you smell sweeter than a jasmine blossom in full bloom.” Landon’s fingers traced a line up her arm, to her shoulder, making her shiver. She should protest such boldness, but couldn’t bring herself to speak.
“I would love you with the passion you deserve, Keelan. He would never worship you with the devotion that I would. He could never sate your hunger or feed your desires as well as I.” His fingers brushed along the back of her neck.
Landon’s touch created an eddy of sensations that trickled down to the center of her consciousness. Despite her desperate attempt to wield an emotional shield to protect herself, an overwhelming need enveloped her. It pulled at her.
His lips brushed her shoulder softly, leaving behind hot impressions on her bare skin. Gooseflesh rose on her arms. Yes, he spoke honeyed words and made promises she longed to hear, but what about when he boarded his ship and went back out to sea? What then? The caustic image of Landon dancing with Annette, her hand on his shoulder, leaning in to whisper in his ear pushed itself to the forefront of her mind in a bitter rush. Landon was too handsome, too desirable, too charming. What woman on this earth could ever resist him?
How could a man possibly stay faithful when beautiful women practically fell at his feet everywhere he went? How could she live that kind of life…living alone wondering if her husband was remaining faithful during the months he was at sea?
It was then she realized it wasn’t that she didn’t believe he could love her more than someone like Annette. There was something else standing between them, glaring like a red-eyed demon.
She didn’t trust him.
She didn’t trust him to stay faithful. She didn’t believe him when he said he thought she was beautiful. She didn’t think for a moment that once he seduced her into his bed he would want her again.
The craziest thing about
it all was that…she was in love with him.
Hysterical laughter bubbled in her throat and threatened to escape. All she’d ever be to Captain Landon Hart was a light of love he had one summer in Charleston. He would sail off to the next port and to the next woman to catch his eye and she’d still be here. And her heart would still be irreparably damaged beyond all hope of repair.
Don’t just stand here. Walk away from him. Walk away.
“Yield to me one last kiss, Keelan,” he whispered.
The moon could have fallen from the sky and she would have been less shocked. She couldn’t kiss him, she’d loose whatever tiny bit of control she still had. She swayed slightly, turning unsteadily to face him again. It was, in light of everything else, a small price to pay. Was it not it? Was she ready to abandon her pride completely and allow him to see that she’d fallen in love with him? Could she stand to give him the satisfaction that he’d won his stupid game?
“One kiss for your silence?” Did she just say that?
“My silence concerning what, exactly, love?” He raised a quizzical brow. “Would it be regarding your habit of sparring in boy’s clothes in the early morning hours?” He paused and appeared to be pondering a very important thought.
“I already paid for that one.”
“So you did.” He tilted his head. “Or maybe, ‘tis the more treacherous game you play with Dr. Garrison’s affections.” His lips were moving against her ear. “Or Pratt’s runaways… Which secret will you be silencing, dear, sweet Keelan?”
Was he actually attempting to blackmail her? Her heart began to beat furiously. She took an unsteady breath. How could he betray Simon and his friends? How could he betray her? Her heart pounded in her ears so loudly they went numb. It truly is all a game to him. He has no care for whom it destroys. Would he truly reveal her secrets, or was this simply another ploy? She was tempted to call his bluff and make him admit he wouldn’t, but it didn’t matter now. It was a ploy, a game. She no longer cared.
Hart's Desire (Pirates & Petticoats Book 1) Page 20
