There was that word again. If.
“I wouldn’t be comfortable sharing a bed with a stranger.” She almost choked over those words. If only he would remember her.
“A stranger? But are we not married?” He leaned back on the bed and rested on his elbows. “Do we not already know each other?”
A heavy sadness enveloped her and the weight of it pressed down on her shoulders. She couldn’t meet his gaze; if it was mocking, her heart would shatter even more. “You’re not a stranger to me, Landon. But, as long as I am a stranger to you, I cannot share your bed.” She opened the door to leave.
“So, you’re stealing my shirt?”
Keelan gripped the door handle as hard as she could, otherwise she would have used her fist to bloody his pompous nose. She paused and glared at him over her shoulder.
“This is my shirt, Captain. You’re sitting on the one you had given me.” With that, she opened the door and swung it shut with as much force as she could muster, and felt better for it.
Even with the door closed, his voice found her ears. “If I notice anything else missing, you can bet I’ll take pleasure in searching you first, Mahdi.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Search her first, indeed! No one had ever been able to prick her temper quicker than Landon Hart. Keelan turned the wick lower on the lantern hanging from the beam in front of the stalls, then entered and latched the door.
“I’m back, Juliet. I hope you don’t mind another bunk mate.” The mare nuzzled her hand as Keelan stroked the velvety nose.
“I don’t know what else to do. I can’t bunk with the other men, and my hammock is still strung in Landon’s cabin.” She gazed into Juliet’s gentle brown eyes. “ I can’t sleep with Landon either. It’s pretty silly, isn’t it? I can’t sleep with my own husband.”
No doubt, if she tried, he would attempt to exercise his ‘husbandly duties’ once more. She didn’t think she’d have the strength to deny him again. Until he remembered her…remembered that he loved her…she couldn’t give herself to him no matter how badly she wanted to.
“What if only part of his memory returns and he still has no recollection of me? What if the last five years never return? What if I never be more than an acquaintance to him?” She rested her forehead on Juliet’s shoulder and closed her eyes to fight off the tears welling beneath her lids.
“Keelan?”
She started at the whisper of her given name. The stall door creaked open and Daniel poked his head inside.
“Ahh, here you are. Ronnie and I have made a place for you to sleep in the sail closet. It will give you the privacy you require. You’ll have to share space with Louis.”
“Louis?” She didn’t know a Louis. How could she have privacy with him there too?
“Yes. The mouser. Apparently he likes to catch a nap in there fairly often.”
She gave him a grateful smile. The sail closet was much better than Juliet’s stall. “Thank you Daniel. I don’t mind sharing my space with a cat, as long as he doesn’t offer to share any of his catches.”
Keelan awoke. Something was amiss. The ship barely breathed. Its usual creaks and groans, rocking and dipping were muffled, almost like when they were mired in the fog near Charleston.
The sail closet was bigger than she’d expected, it was at least as large as the master’s chamber in Twin Pines, wall to wall. The actual space available was limited due to sails and equipment. Even so, Daniel somehow squeezed in a hammock for her.
She’d slept on her stomach since the lashing from Gampo’s cousin. The hammock enabled her to rest on her side with little discomfort. Raising up on an elbow, she found herself suddenly immobile. A shaggy orange cat snuggled against the back of her knees like a sphinx, its tail twitching near his front paws, eyes half-closed.
“You must be Louis.”
The cat opened one eye, then the other before giving her a toothy, wide-mouthed yawn. She shifted her weight and he darted away between the rolls of canvas and out of sight.
“Thankless cat,” she muttered, stumbling her way out of the sail closet.
Once on the main deck she peered out to the flat surface of the sea with growing uncertainty. The predawn sky was purple, blue and pink, bathing everything in the low glow of dawn. Why did she still sense something wasn’t right? All seemed calm and clear. No ship or storm threatened on the horizon. In fact, there was hardly any sound at all.
Perplexed, she scanned the aft deck for Landon without success, so she headed for the helm. The usual activity on deck was suppressed. Limp and lethargic sails hung from the masts. The crew were all at ease, resting in whatever comfortable place they could find.
As she neared, the low timbre of her husband’s voice drifted in conversation with one of the crewmen.
“What do you suggest?” Landon’s question hung in the air for a moment.
“Well,” Gus answered. “We could kedge her off.”
“Let’s do it then,” Landon said.
Keelan ducked back down away from the helm and sauntered over to the rail. The still air amplified the eerie silence of the sails.
“Well! A fair morning to ye, lad,” Gus said, his voice almost booming in the stillness.
Keelan smiled her greeting in response. “Good morning, Mr. Gus.”
“Just Gus, lad. Just Gus.” He stopped beside her and looked out over the glassy sea. “We may have to kedge off the vessel today, if we are going to make any time.”
“Kedge off the vessel?” Keelan was curious as to the meaning.
“Aye,” Gus nodded. “’Tis when we tie the anchor to a launch with about a mile of rope and team it with a first cutter. ‘Tis then rowed out until we run out of rope. The anchor is tossed into the water. It sinks, then we weigh it back in. As we do, the weight of the anchor pulls the Desire to it. The anchor is raised up and tied back to the launch and we do it again.”
“That sounds very time consuming,” she observed.
“Aye, that it is, but ‘tis better than sittin’. I imagine the captain will try and hug the coastline a bit in hopes of catching a bit of a breeze off it as well.” He jammed his hat down on his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “As long as we stay ahead of them British bastards scouring the seas for press gangs, we’ll make port without much of a delay.”
Day and night, for the next day and a half, Landon’s crew continued to move the ship by dropping the anchor and then heaving in the hawser, pulling the ship forward an inch at a time. It was a slow monotonous process, which frayed the nerves of even the most passive men. Keelan helped Marcel make hard tack in the galley. She hunted for and found where most of the hens were laying their eggs and collected what she could find. She milked the goat and sneaked a small trencher into the sail closet along with a thimble-sized chunk of cheese for Louis, who always found a way to snuggle on her legs without waking her and yet shoot out of arms reach in the morning.
At dawn on the third day a shout from the crow’s nest broke the stillness of the morning, much like a dropped book in an empty room.
“Sails ahead, Captain Hart!”
All hands not otherwise occupied, ran to the foredeck, straining their eyes to catch a glimpse of the ships mentioned.
Gus peered through the glass. “A good number of vessels ahead are stranded with no wind to fill their canvas, same as us. Circumstances are most dire for the ship in the midst of them, I would say. The one nearest to us just hoisted an American flag.” He handed the glass to Landon.
Landon gave Gus a curious look before putting the glass to his eye. He moved the glass from left to right then sucked in his breath. He didn’t try to hide the worry in his tone as he answered. “Tis the Glory. She’s surrounded by a fleet of four British warships.”
Keelan peered at the small dark dots on the horizon and tried to make out their shapes. Captain Hall’s ship and crew simply could not be allowed to fall into the hands of the British.
“But what about the other American ship? That one
that just hoisted the flag?” Gus asked.
Landon smiled grimly. “That was a trick. That ship is British, I’d bet my life on it.” He handed the glass to Gus.
“How do you know?” Gus accepted the glass and put it up to his eye.
Landon gestured to the Glory. “Because Commodore Hall hoisted the Union Jack, to warn us.”
“They be in no danger at the moment.” Gus said, the concern in his voice betrayed the nonchalance of his words. “The ships are too far from the Glory to fire upon her and the wind is too weak to move them. At this point, they be all still in the waters and can only eye each other and wait for a luff in the canvas, same as us. Shall we continue with kedging the Desire?”
Landon paused a beat before answering. “We could, but if the British mimic us, it could put the Glory in more danger.”
“If we don’t, Cap’n, they’ll think of it soon, anyway. We might as well get a jump on ‘em. We have only one anchor and hawse pipe. They may very well have two of them.” Gus shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the ships on the horizon.
Landon nodded his acquiescence. “Aye, but send a man here with flags. I have a message to send to Commodore Hall. He should be able to see from this distance.”
Gus nodded and left to do Landon’s bidding.
“Is there any way to help Commodore Hall?” she asked. “Can’t we distract the British long enough for the Glory to move free of the blockade?” The commodore and Landon were friends. Surely he remembered that much. He had to help.
Landon studied her a moment as if weighing the sincerity of her question. “You know Commodore Hall?”
She shrugged. “Not personally. I was supposed to travel with him to Philadelphia, but he was called away before I could board.”
Landon tilted his head and snorted. “United States Navy warships rarely take on passengers.”
“It was a special favor.” Her voice dropped off and she closed her eyes, already anticipating what he would say next. Every fact she gave him sounded like a farce. Couldn’t they have one conversation where her words didn’t sound contrived?
Landon leaned against the rail and crossed his arms over his chest, his steely blue gaze on her face. “A special favor for whom? I suppose you’re going to tell me that I was the one who requested he take you aboard?”
She swallowed and nodded.
He leaned forward until his nose was inches from her own. “You lie.”
She clenched her jaw closed in an effort to prevent herself from snapping back something she’d regret later. She failed. “I’m not lying. I’ll have you know you stubborn, arrogant rake, that you insisted I go, while I argued to stay with you!”
He stepped forward, making her tilt her head back to glare at him, perhaps trying to scare her into recanting her words. To reinforce her resolve, she fisted her hands on her hips, and threw her shoulders back like an angry chicken. She’d show him she could be just as stubborn as he.
She wasn’t prepared for the affect his proximity had on her nerves, though. The heat from his body, coupled with the scent that was uniquely Landon’s…ocean air and leather and something else…distracted her completely.
He trapped her gaze and his pupils widened, darkening the blue of his irises. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and calm and so cold, it made her shiver.
“I would never put my wife on another man’s ship. If, indeed, I had married again I assure you, I would have never allowed you to stray that far, especially since I now know about the silky, soft, pale curves you hide under that leather corset.”
She fought to keep her hands on her hips and her chin jutted out in defiance. She wanted to reach up and bury her fingers in the glossy, black curls that caressed his broad shoulders and kiss away the bitter, caustic tenor of his words. A warmth radiated from her palms. Her hands now rested on his hips. Why couldn’t she keep her head around him? She retreated a hasty step back. Damn that man. She turned and fled.
His soft laugh drifted to her ears through the quiet calm. “The mice always play while the cat’s away.”
Marcel instructed Keelan to take a bucket of water and a ladle up to the deck for the crew to quench their thirst. Gus gestured her over and reached for the ladle. She surreptitiously eyed Landon from beneath the brim of her floppy hat. The sun glittered across the water and gave his skin a golden glow. He had yet to secure the ties, and his shirt gaped open, revealing the chiseled cut of his chest and a light covering of hair. She swallowed, then dipped the ladle in the bucket and served herself a drink. She dipped the ladle in again for Landon when he approached.
“I have an idea.” Landon snapped the spyglass closed and drank.
Gus wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “What plan have ye hatched to give the Glory time to escape once the wind catches her sails, Captain?” He raised a shaggy grey brow.
Landon’s gaze flickered over Keelan as he dropped the ladle in the bucket. He grinned at his first mate. “Gus, what would you do if you noticed the breath of a breeze after your ship had been still in the water for days?”
He shrugged. “I’d haul the sheets up to the wind as fast as I could.”
“Aye,” Landon agreed. “But what if that breeze was a stronger gust than you anticipated? What if a squall arose with such force that you worried it would flay the sails or tip the boat into the sea?”
“Could that happen?” she asked, dubiously. “Could the wind blow up so fast that it would catch the sails and fling the boat over?”
“Oh, aye, young Mr. Mahdi.” Gus nodded emphatically, his bristled cheeks spread into a grin. “It could indeed. And has! A gale off the coast is most unpredictable. If it catches too much sail at the wrong angle, it would tip a vessel over as easy as you could tip an empty ale bottle with your finger.”
Gus moved away and began to pace while scratching his salt and pepper beard. “If my ship be caught in the doldrums, I’d have my sails up full, to catch any puff of blow that may come my way.” He frowned pensively. “But, if a strong wind blew in from shore and took me by surprise, I’d order the sails drawn in and furled, to avoid pitching the ship or tearing the sails. Any good captain would do the same.”
“Exactly!” Landon responded, eyes alight. “Any good captain would do the same.”
“I don’t understand,” she said. “How does that help Captain Hall and his ship?”
Landon seemed a little surprised by her question, or surprised she was interested enough to ask it. “Eventually, the stillness of the sea will be interrupted by a gust of wind, or a whisper of breeze. It can’t stay like this forever. When the wind picks up, we can make it look as if it took us by surprise and we were hit by a great gust. The ship will tip; we’ll haul up the sails by the brails and clew lines in apparent confusion, as if it was impossible to carry a yard of canvas.”
Gus nodded, his eyes bright. “Then we’ll drop our sheets, to make it seem we are trying to save them from being shredded by the wind.”
“The British ships will witness our apparent panic and they’ll mimic us in anticipation of receiving the same gust.” Landon locked eyes with Keelan and he grinned. For the thousandth time, the spell he cast with his smile made her heart jump.
“Except, we will not have fully dropped our sails in said panic,” Gus continued, excited now. “But instead, we’ll merely allow the sheets to willow on to the deck for a few moments. As soon as the British have hastily dropped or, we hope in their panic, cut their sails free, we will raise ours and catch the wind and be on our merry way before the Brits can untangle and repair their lines and haul their sheets back up to the wind.”
“It will give the Glory the head start she needs to break free of the blockade,” Landon finished, nodding.
It sounded like a good plan, but how would they execute it? Making a ship tilt seemed like a big undertaking.
“But how will you make it appear as if a great gust hit the ship?” She faced the shore. “What if the breeze isn’t really that strong?�
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“Ahhh!” Gus smiled knowingly and rubbed his hands together. “Now that is the stuff what makes a plan brilliant!”
CHAPTER SIX
How could they possibly pull off any type of plan when there wasn’t even a whisper of a breeze? She helped the crew over the next few hours. They lowered each sail and soaked it with water, to force the fibers to expand and hold as much wind as possible. After Keelan had done her part, she sat on one of the water barrels and observed as her husband stood with legs braced and called his crew to the mid-deck and proceeded to divulge to them his plan. The men grinned broadly and clapped their hands in approval then listened intently as Gus gave each their instructions.
She shaded her eyes and noted that a launch and a small cutter from the Glory continued to take turns lashing the anchor to the boat, rowing ahead to the length of the extended chain then dropping it to wait for the big ship to haul to them by weighing in the anchor. As the Desire had been doing for the past three days, they repeated the entire process.
She moved her gaze to the closest British ship. Her stomach twisted; the British ship had also attached an anchor to each end of the hawser, which passed through a pipe on each side of the bow, allowing the crew to warp the ship ahead continuously, one anchor being carried forward while the other held on to the ocean bottom. The crew did their best to cut the distance to the Glory. How long would it be before the British were within firing range?
“I have a task for you.”
She jumped before she could prevent it. Turning, her gaze collided with Landon’s throat. His ties were still undone and she froze. Couldn’t the man at least cover himself in the presence of a woman? She lifted her gaze to connect with his lusty leer.
“My offer still stands, you know.”
“Offer?”
“To exercise my husbandly duties in a strident attempt to prod my memory back to the present.” His eyes drifted to her chest.
Hart's Reward (Pirates & Petticoats #3) Page 5
