Hart's Passion (Pirates & Petticoats Book 2) (30 page)

Keelan caught Landon’s gaze. Calm. Warm. Ornery.

“You’ve ignored me because, you have turned your lust to young
boys
?” Annette’s voice dripped with disgust. “You’re sick in the head.”

Keelan bit back a sudden snort of laughter.
 

Amusement warmed Landon’s eyes as he grinned down at her. “Not necessarily,” he said.

Annette sauntered forward, hands on her hips. “Tell me
Captain
, what does the crew think of this? Or do they not yet know? Because I assure you, your dirty little secret will be out within the hour unless you and I can come to a mutual agreement.” She pointed commandingly to Keelan. “You may go. Landon and I are going to have a private…meeting.”

Although Landon managed to remain calm under Annette Camsby’s attack, Keelan bristled at the woman’s obvious threat against her husband. She whirled and faced the widow. “Whatever ‘dirty little secret’ you’re prepared to tell the crew would be a complete lie.”

“Really!” Annette exclaimed in mock surprise. “Let me see if I understand your argument. Or have you already forgotten I have just seen you in his arms, kissing him like a…
lover
!”
 

Landon chuckled and leaned forward to whisper in Keelan’s ear, “Well, she’s right about the last.”

Try as she might, Keelan could not hold back a giggle.

Annette became more incensed. “You dare mock me!”

“Madam Camsby.” Landon intervened. “I believe it is time for the appropriate introductions to be made. Allow me to introduce to you, my wife: Keelan Grey Hart.”
 

Annette’s jaw dropped. “Wha…what did you say?”

Landon stepped from behind Keelan and bowed formally. “This is my wife, Keelan Hart.”

“
Wife
!” Annette sputtered. “This is preposterous! You’re not married! I have
met
the woman, and I assure you, sir, this is not she!”

Landon continued smoothly, unaffected by Annette’s outburst. “Keelan, please allow me to introduce Madam Annette Camsby, late widow of Mr. Edward Camsby of Charleston.”

Keelan pulled away the scarf hiding her hair. She closed half the distance between Landon and the stunned woman and spoke softly but with a cool firmness, “Although we both attended my cousin Doreen’s cotillion ball, I assure you, we have never been formally introduced.” She took great pleasure watching Landon’s former mistress’ mouth freeze open and gape in ill-concealed shock.

Landon moved to Keelan’s side, grasped her hand, and then raised it to his lips.
 

“Tell us, Mrs. Camsby,” Keelan asked, sinking into a formal curtsy, “exactly what do you intend to tell the crew?”

After demanding her trunks be loaded immediately on the long boat, Annette Camsby soon beat an irritated retreat to the main deck to wait its departure.
 

 
Landon placed a kiss upon Keelan’s smooth brow. He was much comforted and proud of the strength and confidence radiating from his wife’s gaze. “While Conal and I meet with the authorities, you and Daniel can accompany Doreen safely to her aunt’s home.”
 

Keelan gave a small sigh of pleasure. “I must admit, I cannot wait until I can and enjoy a nice, warm, relaxing bath with lavender oil and fragrant soap and…”

Landon chuckled and squeezed her tighter. “Let’s stay the night in town. I’ll find a room at the Harbour Town Hotel and we shall bathe
together
this evening. We’ll dine with Conal and Brendan. When we board the
Desire
, I intend to introduce you to the crew as my wife. ”
 

The delighted sparkle in her emerald eyes warmed his heart. She pulled his head down and her lips beckoned his. She kissed him with the sweetness of a Jamaican sugar cane. His hands moved over her buttocks and up to capture her breasts. The heat grew inside of him as her nipples hardened against his touch and her breath turned into a gentle breath of desire. Lifting her into his arms, he strode across the cabin and lowered her to his bed.

“I believe I have an obligation to fulfill,” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

“You certainly do,” Keelan said, grinning impishly, “and the delay will cost you extra.”

They found the stolen canoe tied to a piling near a dock. The fog was still a thick grey wall, although it seemed to be thinning somewhat. The
Seeker
was nothing, but a faint shadow in the distant mist. Anchored just offshore, Landon could barely make out the outline of his ship, the
Desire
.
 

Conal followed his gaze. “The fog should burn off by evening. Let’s plan to shove off at dawn.”

Landon nodded as he gestured to one of the men to haul up Keelan’s new trunk. He wanted to surprise her. He brought the trunk, containing the dress he’d purchased for her in Charleston, up from the hold and smuggled it aboard without her noticing. She might not be able to dress as Keelan Grey Hart in public, but he’d make sure she would be married in a gown worthy of a bride on her wedding day.

Conal jostled the shoulder of one of the men tying off the longboat. “Make sure the men are ready to re-board tomorrow as soon as the
Seeker
is anchored at dockside and flying the Blue Peter.”
 

“Aye, sir.”

Landon was certain Keelan was already anticipating her warm, scented bath. He smiled. He had another surprise planned for his new wife.
 

After sending Keelan and Daniel to deliver Doreen to her aunt’s house, Landon and Conal spoke with the local constable. They reported both Gampo’s attack and the assault and attempted sabotage by the three men who’d stowed aboard the
Seeker
. Next, the two men stopped at the church on Baker Street and made the necessary arrangements for Landon and Keelan to be married. The priest kindly offered to marry them the same evening. The hefty purse Landon had left with the little man might have provided additional impetus to get the deed done, along with the knowledge Landon and Keelan had taken the ancient vow of a handfast and thus had already consummated their marriage. A low vibration resonated within Landon’s chest and it took a moment before he realized he was humming.
 

Humming
.

He ignored Conal’s quizzical brow and curious look and strode forward to the docks. Locating the third ship in their fleet, the
Reward,
anchored dockside, he hailed her captain, Brendan Ahern, who bade them to come aboard.
 

A tall three-masted barquentine, the
Reward
was the largest vessel in the Ahern Merchant Company fleet. A newly replaced mizzen mast stood shiny and bright against the scarred hull and ship’s deck. The scent of freshly applied pitch lingered with the salty air of the sea. Muffled sounds of low waves, slapping the ship, mingled with the blunted voices of men aboard and other translucent activity in the early morning fog.

Fynn’s eldest son shook his hand warmly. Fynn’s untimely death had been hard on them, but Brendan had taken it the hardest, of course. He’d seen the mast explode when the bar shot hit it, and although he said he had bellowed a warning, he’d been unable to reach his father in time to save him from the deadly shards which had rained down.

“The new mizzen is in place, I see,” Conal observed, shaking his cousin’s hand.

“Aye and has been for nearly a fortnight,” Brendan responded. “Anxious I am, to get her underway. I feel helpless as a spring lamb anchored dockside for so long.” His jaw clenched as he flung his arm in the direction of the open sea. “While that rat bastard, Gampo, is out there somewhere, probably seeking a hole in which to hide his cowardly arse.”
 

Landon and Conal exchanged hooded looks. Brendan hated being bored, which occasionally led him to act before thinking, since to him, action was always better than stillness. Like Conal, Brendan believed in an eye for an eye and was obviously biting at the bit to get his hands on Gampo.
 

Would Brendan find peace if he avenged his father’s death? Was Brendan seeking such a peace, or did he simply seize the challenge because it demanded a call to action? When Landon had lost his parents, he had been too young, too stunned, to understand how grief paralyzed the limbs and the mind…suspended one like a hawk on an updraft. Thankfully, before he’d been dashed on the ragged shoals of death and loss and loneliness, Fynn had saved him.
 

“Yer like a shark, you are,” Conal said to Brendan as they followed to his cabin. “Always on the move, ye can’t stand to be still a single second.” He clapped Brendan on the back. “It’s a good thing we’ve arrived then, eh?”

Brendan gestured them inside and strode over to his desk, moved aside a tattered leather-bound book and pulled a bottle of whiskey from a drawer. “Aye to that. What kept you? I’d been just about to set sail for Charleston to seek you out when the
Desire
arrived and I received Landon’s letter. I waited as instructed, but the information provided was bloody thin.”

Conal picked up the old book from Brendan’s desk. “What’s this?”
 

“It’s one of my father’s journals,” Brendan answered. “Odd though, it wasn’t with the others.” He pulled open a desk drawer and gestured to the gap in the back. “It was hidden in here. I haven’t had a chance to read through it yet.” He pushed the drawer shut. “Tell me what happened in Charleston.”

Conal put the journal down. “We went to Twin Pines to meet with Commodore Grey as Fynn had planned. However, Grey was unable to tell us why Fynn had arranged the meeting.” Conal accepted a whiskey from Brendan. “Although Landon and I both suspect he wasn’t being entirely truthful.”

Brendan sat, picked up his glass and took a sip. “So you visited Grey. That couldn’t have caused such a long delay in returning here.” He cocked a questioning brow.

Landon leaned against the doorjamb and frowned. “We ran into Gampo in Charleston. He followed us and managed to make off with some of our goods. It took time to reclaim it.” He tossed down the drink and scowled at the empty glass. “I almost had him, Brendan. He took Keelan. He’d bought her, just like he did your mother. I almost had him.”

Brendan splashed a bit more whiskey in their cups. Conal added, “The hurricane interfered with the delivery of the additional cargo our friends from Philadelphia commissioned us to acquire.”

Brendan rolled his shoulders, leaned his head back, and took a deep breath. “And the additional cargo is where?”

Landon pressed his lips into a thin line. “Some is in the hold of the Desire, some is still in Charleston.” Transporting runaway slaves north to freedom was always a big risk, but to Fynn, it was more of an obligation. His merchant business might have been a little less profitable than it could have been, but Fynn didn’t care, claiming it made him a wealthy man in mind, body and spirit.

Conal observed Brendan carefully. “It’s not what you’d hoped to do, but we have to go back to Charleston, and retrieve it, and then transport it to Philadelphia straight away, before it’s discovered. We’re risking all our necks as it is.”

“Dammit. I really wanted to set sail for Jamaica.” Brendan paused with his glass halfway to his lips. “Who’s Keelan?”

 
The sun was up in the sky somewhere, shining its noonday rays. The fog, still a thick grey wall, seemed to be conceding its grip on the harbor somewhat. The
Seeker
was nothing but a faint shadow in the distant mist. Just offshore, he could make out the slightly sharper outline of the
Desire
.
 

Landon touched the small of Keelan’s back to signal they were leaving. Normally, he’d offer her an arm, but it would cause quite a few heads to turn, since Keelan was still dressed as Mahdi.
 

He glanced at his bride. The glimmer in her eyes when they talked about sailing to South America or Asia made his heart swell. She was as excited as he to begin their journey together.
 

In less than a day, they’d be legally married. Conal had agreed to stand as a witness. Brendan promised to attend as well.

His stomach rumbled. The breakfast tray Keelan had brought to their cabin earlier had gone untouched after Annette’s intrusion. The feel of his wife’s bare bottom had lingered near the forefront of his mind after Mrs. Camsby departed. He’d whispered the need to revisit the encounter, much to Keelan’s amusement, then eager agreement.

The trio stopped at the tavern across the street from the hotel, and ordered a small feast. A short time later, warm bread, cheese, and various cold chunks of meat arrived, along with tankards of ale. Keelan took a sip of her mug, wrinkled her nose and pushed it toward Conal who accepted it joyfully. Laughing, Landon signaled for the tavern maid and ordered a glass of spiced wine for her, instead.
 

He wanted to reach over and grasped Keelan’s hands, and he inwardly cursed the circumstances which forced her into disguise. He wanted to tell her about the wedding ceremony he had arranged. He wanted her eyes to light up that he’d kept his word. She had doubted him, but he had kept his word.
 

When he had pledged his heart to her, he’d meant it. With the simple handfast promise, he could have lived the rest of his life, content. Yet, something more drove him to seek the legal documentation; it was one last bridge of trust they had to cross together. She had to fearlessly join her life with his, with absolute conviction, and believe with her heart he was a man of his word.

The tavern door opened and he glanced up. Brendan paused and scanned the room; his gaze found Conal and he weaved his way around a few tables until he reached them. He clutched a ragged tome as if it were a wounded bird. It was the old journal of Fynn’s he’d had found hidden in the desk.

Landon nodded toward the door. “Brendan has decided to join us, I wonder what—”

“Conal!” The catch in Brendan’s voice made Landon stop in mid sentence.

Conal put down his mug. “Hoy, Brendan! Pull up a chair and join us. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He glanced at Keelan and grinned.

Brendan seemed not to hear as he grabbed a chair. “Conal, you have to read this.”