Hart's Desire (Pirates & Petticoats Book 1) (18 page)

A warm finger touched her chin and she glared up at the source of her own personal storm. The sea captain stirred such a turbulent tide of emotions in her heart, that it pitched and rolled hither and yon like a small dingy in a roiling sea. She had no control over it and that thought terrified her.

Landon’s eyes clouded with concern and stared intently back at her. His nearness unnerved her, and her senses reeled again from the manly scent of him.
 

“My apologies, my love, but it was the only thing I could think to do to snap you out of the state of near hysteria that took you.” He grinned. “I am extremely pleased with the results, although somewhat worse for it,” he said, touching the red outline of her hand on his cheek.
 

“You’ll not get an apology for that,” she retorted. “You most certainly deserved it.”

His grin widened. “It was worth the price paid.”

She huffed and glanced away. He was so…irritating. She irritated herself by enjoying his ridiculous admission.

“I blame myself.” Landon’s mood sobered. “I should have never let you get on that horse. Instead, I should have damn well thrown you over my saddle and tied you there!”

Keelan managed a cool smile. “It would have been interesting to see you try.”

Landon’s eyebrows jutted upward then his chest rumbled with a chuckle. “Yes, it would have been a fascinating physical engagement.”

Keelan managed a weak grin. Hard, dense rain soaked her shoulders and the wind howled around them. She shivered. Animals had a gift for finding their way home, but she still worried about Sham. The captain stopped at the cluster of abandoned cabins she’d passed earlier in the day.
 

What was he doing? She turned her questioning gaze toward him.

He spoke into her ear so she could hear him above the rising wind. “The storm will be upon us before we can return. We need to find shelter
now
.”
 

Keelan’s heart lurched in her chest. “Nay! I cannot!” She glanced wildly at the sky. “We must get back. It can’t be very far, and Sham is still running loose. We must find him!”
 

He ignored her tirade and urged his horse forward to a cabin near the edge of the clearing. Wind gusts began to hiss through the pines with frightening intensity. The rain hammered down so hard it hurt her head. Small pellets, resembling white glass beads, bounced about crazily.
 

“It is beginning to hail!” Even as she realized the lunacy of her demands, she pushed against his chest and tried to raise her voice above the wind. “Please, Landon, take me home!”

He gripped her shoulders. She could barely hear his shout above the gale. “Keelan, can you see what’s happening?” He swept an arm wide. “The wind has picked up several knots, and soon it’ll be strong enough to pick up debris as well.” He slid his hands down her arms until he could grasp her elbows. “Your safety is more important to me now, than your precious reputation.” His voice strengthened into a commanding tone, which allowed for no further argument. “We shall seek shelter now. My decision is firm in this regard.”
 

She hid her panic by lashing him with her words. “A comfort, to be sure, Captain.”

But
who will protect me from you?

Landon’s eyes were now a darker blue-gray like a turbulent sea. “Your virtue will remain intact while you are under my protection. You have my word, as a gentleman.”

“Gentleman? Do you even understand the definition?” she asked, unable to break his gaze. Captain Landon Hart’s mere presence was dangerous. Reason and logic seemed to disappear faster than Ruth’s pecan pie when he was around her.

He nudged his horse along and within a few minutes, they stopped next to a cabin. One corner of the roof was missing, giving Keelan cause to wonder how many creatures their entrance would disturb. The front door hung askew by the bottom hinge, and both windows lacked shutters for protection.
 

She peered through the rain and hail and raised her voice above the wind. “I don’t see how this feeble structure will protect us.”

Landon dismounted. He placed his hands on her waist and lifted her down.
 

“This one has a cellar.” He gestured to the entrance near the side of the cabin. He turned to remove the saddle and pack, speaking over his shoulder. “We’ll be safe there.” He placed the saddle on the ground, then reached up and grasped the blanket.

Keelan opened her mouth to argue, but a wave of dizziness crashed over her, cutting off her retort. A loud roar filled her ears and her world began to swirl and dip crazily. Flashes of sensation hovered near the fringes of her consciousness, a numbing wave seeping into her skin,
 
darkening her vision, then the jarring impact of the rain-soaked earth.

Landon’s scent, mingled with leather and fresh lake water, awakened her. His eyes sparkled with unbridled humor; white teeth grinned at her from the lake bank. Although a distance from her, it filled her head as if he was only inches away.
 

She awoke in the semi-darkness. Confused, she searched for a familiar sight. It took her a moment to remember she was in a cellar below the main floor of the cabin.
 

On the dirt floor, a small fire crackled merrily nearby, the smoke escaping through a large hole in the ceiling. Only about half the floor above remained intact; the rest was gone. It was unlike any cellar she’d ever seen. The dark gaping maw of a large hearth loomed in the shadows above, standing quiet and cold at the far end of the room on the main floor. Cobwebs coated the ceiling rafters far above, obscuring the shaggy remnants of several abandoned nests tucked in the corner eaves. Her surroundings smelled of neglect, mice, and damp dirt. There were steps built into the side of the wall at the far end of the room, leading up to a small hinged door, which appeared to open to the right of the hearth. The cellar appeared to be oddly larger than the cabin itself.
 

A small alcove was on her right. She couldn’t see into it, so she wasn’t sure how far into the darkness it went. It was probably another storage area.

The shanty appeared deserted, still she had an uneasy feeling she was intruding. There were remnants of old burlap bags stuffed with straw and a basket of turnips and potatoes, along with a couple of well-used blankets, as if the occupants had tried to live in the root cellar, rather than up in the old cabin.
 

She had been resting on a saddle blanket; Captain Hart’s coat had been rolled into a makeshift pillow and placed beneath her head. She lifted it to her nose and inhaled. The scent from her dream… Glancing about, she spied his saddle leaning against the far wall.

Keelan’s skin crawled at the sound of the angry wind lunging and clawing at the tiny structure, causing the frail structure to shudder and groan against such a vicious onslaught. A loud thunder clap made her jump, and she glanced up toward the open windows. The rain fell harder and blew through them to the floor nearby. How long would the already dilapidated shanty last?

The angry slapping of the crippled front door, with its single hinge, couldn’t drown out the hailstones clattering on the porch and against the clapboards. She barely heard the clip of boots over the whistling gusts of wind and pelting barrage outside. The hinged door in the ceiling opened and Landon stepped down the cellar ladder, and closed the hatch behind him, his pack slung over his shoulder. He deposited it near the saddle and glanced about, as she had done a few moments earlier.
 

With every movement of his shoulders, muscles rippled beneath the dripping shirt. The confident set of his jaw and the fluid movement of his stride added to that now familiar air of authority which seemed to surge toward him, envelop him, radiate from him. He was used to leading men, and it was obvious he was comfortable with the role that went hand in hand with such a position.

He began to step closer, but stopped when he saw she’d awakened. “How are you feeling?” He seemed oblivious to the fact his own shoulders were soaked and water still streamed down his face and neck.

Caught staring, she could only give the captain a feeble smile. She brushed her hand across her brow in a vain effort to wipe away the cobwebs from her mind before she mumbled thickly, “A bit muddled.”

Landon picked up his pack, and moved to kneel beside her. He loosened the straps and withdrew a couple of bundles and a flask.

He removed a cloth wrapping, revealing a loaf of crusty bread. Using the same cloth, he wiped the water from his face and hands. “When did you last eat?”
 

Keelan couldn’t quite remember. She had meant to grab one of Ruth’s muffins at dawn, prior to training with Daniel, but in her haste, forgot. She missed breakfast. Of course, after Everett’s proposal, she’d lost her appetite for lunch and soon after went for a ride.

“Last eve,” she said.

“Keelan.” He eyed her sternly. “Going without water or food in this heat can be taxing. Add to it the shock you’ve had, and it’s no wonder you’re faint.”

She bristled at his chastisement. She was not some weak maid who swooned at every turn of events. Although, it had become obvious she had less control of her actions and decisions when this handsome captain was near, which added to her frustrations of course, so her next words came out a little harsher than she intended. “It’s not as taxing as fighting off your roguish advances.”
 

Hart eyed her with raised brows. “That remains to be seen, my sweet Keelan.”

Landon gestured to the flask and bread he had removed from his saddlebags. “There is more than enough here for two.” He had a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “However, the rules of the high seas demand you earn your share.”

Keelan pushed herself upright and tossed her storm-combed hair behind her. If this arrogant captain expected she would “earn” her share, as would a doxy from the docks, then he had a lot to learn about the daughter of Commodore George Grey.
 

“I will not be manipulated.” She raised her chin a notch. “If you think I might serve you favors in exchange for a crust of bread then your senses have taken flight. I would choose to starve rather than bend to any more of your prurient whims.”

He cocked a quizzical brow. “Aye.” He nodded. “I believe you would.” With a dramatic flourish, gave her an exaggerated, albeit seated, bow. “I humbly beg your forgiveness, my lady. I only seek to barter for pleasantries. I resolve to halve my share with you in exchange only for warm conversation and your beauteous presence.” He placed his hand over his heart. “Put away your barbed tongue for the rest of the day, and I shall gleefully starve myself instead.”

As hard as she tried, it was too difficult to maintain the wall of ice she had conjured. She couldn’t keep from smiling; still, she gave him a wary look before responding in kind, “Dear sir, your price is too steep, for I can think of no other way a lady can fend off your rakish tendencies, unless you pledge your protection in addition to the treasures you would share.” She pretended to examine her nails. “I shall demand protection from all rogues, including and most especially…you.”

He dipped his head and chuckled. The firelight gleamed off his dark hair, still wet from the rain. “The bargain you demand is a rigid one, my lady. However, I pledge to you my fealty. I shall fight for your love and honor until death removes me from your sublime presence.”

Keelan feigned a tight-lipped smile, while patting the space beside her makeshift pallet. “Come then sir, and sit, for my throat is parched and my stomach rumbles louder than the storm outside.” She’d never conversed in private so casually with a man before, and found it oddly pleasant. Had her parents shared a similar relationship, where they talked and teased each other when they were alone?
 

Somehow, she didn’t think so.

 
Landon sat near her and reached for the flask. He broke the seal and handed it to her, “Sip this slowly,” he warned. “It’s water heavily laced with rum.”

Heeding his advice, she sipped cautiously from the flask. She could taste the rum and guessed the water was from the ship’s supply, where they mixed rum with it to keep it drinkable while at sea.

The captain unwrapped a round of wax-coated cheese and several strange fried rolls. He handed one of them to her and smiled at her curiosity. “Marcel, the ship’s cook, learned to make these while we were trading in the Orient.”
 

She took a bite. “It’s delicious,” she said gratefully, taking another bite. “Ruth makes something similar. She calls it a fried pie.”

 
Landon broke off two chunks of bread, and used his knife to cut into the cheese. The fire cast quick, sprite-like shadows, which flickered and danced on the walls. Late afternoon had fallen, but the storm had darkened the day to a strange, blue-green hue of dusk. They shared the small corner of the cellar, seeking comfort in whatever small amount of protection it provided. As they sated their hunger, the storm continued to rage outside.

He cocked his head and listened. “It’s gaining strength. ‘Tis good we found shelter when we did.”

She eyed him, curious. “How is it you know so much of storms?”

“Over the years, I have sailed around many and through even more. Although we map our routes and time our trips to avoid the worst tempests when we can, one cannot often second-guess the elements.”

Keelan picked up the flask and reclined against the rough cellar wall before taking a sip. “You must enjoy the sea very much to spend so many years upon the water.”

Landon shrugged. “I’ve made my fortune crossing oceans and have seen many strange and amazing sights.” He smiled. “Although, none can compare to the vision of beauty I witnessed today.”

A blush crept up her neck. “You are a blackguard to continue to embarrass me so. Should I one day hear tales of you becoming a pirate, or a privateer, scouring the high seas for weak merchant ships to plunder, I would have no trouble believing it.” She took another careful sip from the flask and eyed him warily, determined to shave a layer or two off his own fattened opinion of himself, bargain or no bargain. Captain Hart certainly was
not
a gentleman and that particular character defect was certain to cause trouble for her.