Hart's Reward (Pirates & Petticoats #3) (6 page)

A powerful aura radiated from Landon, and when he was near its energy drew her in and surged through her. It both bound them and pulsed through them like life’s blood, linking their hearts, their souls and their desires. It warmed her now, like a radiant heat. His scent filled her nostrils and she breathed him in. Her arms ached to hold him and pull him into her. Moistness wept from the nest of curls where her thighs joined and she longed to climb on top of him, impale herself on him and rock her hips in time with his thrusts until he spilled, hot and pulsing within her, lifting her to that place of ecstasy where suns explode and stars surge through her core.
 

Was he remembering, too?

Please, remember me.

The warmth of his palm covered her breast and her lids flickered open, hoping. She had her hands in his hair. His eyes flamed with desire, his mouth parted for kissing. His shirt laces were undone, as if he had been prepared to disrobe. The muscles of his chest rippled with the movement of his hand. Dark curls trailed down toward his breeches where his erection bulged. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

She searched his face. Did he remember? The blue depths of his irises seemed too shallow, too light. The dark pools of passion she used to fall into were not there.

His expression shifted; his mouth curled up.
 

And her heart broke.

His slow, lusty smile dropped the final stone. Now, she felt sullied and cheap. Tears burned in her eyes; she squeezed them shut and struggled to gather her composure.

“Tell me,” she asked stilling his roving hand with hers. “Where did we meet?”

 
“What?” His eyes were still on her chest.

“Where did we first kiss?” She pulled his hand away, ignoring his slight look of surprise. She stepped back as he reached for her again. He grasped her hand and brought her palm to his lips, like he’d done in the garden weeks ago. For a moment, hope surged anew.

“If we are truly married, then perhaps my memory will return if I exercise my husbandly duties,” he murmured.

If
we are truly married.
If
.

His hand fell as she stepped farther away. “You don’t believe me.” Her hands shook as she fought to tie her shirt. She had exposed that tenderest strand of hope way too soon. Like an exposed nerve, Landon’s words sliced right through it, leaving her raw and jagged.

He leaned back on the bed and rested on his elbows. “Well, I suppose I could ask Daniel, that
loyal
servant of yours, who would probably lie for you a thousand times if you asked in the proper manner.”

Her face burned at his insinuations.

She finished tying her shirt and spun toward the door. That deep baritone she had come to adore now grated against her ears. She couldn’t stay and endure any more shards flying from his mouth. This man…whom she did not know, wounded her deeply. She wanted to grasp his broad shoulders and shake him…demand he remember her…remember
them
.

Reason made her pause. Her life and Daniel’s depended upon their disguises being successful. If Landon exposed them in his current state, she and Daniel would be in danger. She had no choice. She had to avoid raising his ire. Gritting her teeth, she turned and faced him. Ignoring his cocky grin, she paused for a calming breath before she spoke, then forced herself to meet his gaze.
 

“You wanted me to explain my disguise. It’s needed to keep me safe. Gampo placed a steep price upon my head in Charleston. Whether you remember it or not, you should know that I am in disguise at
your
recommendation. You and Daniel designed this charade to keep me safe.”
 

She spread her palms in surrender. “Despise me if you must, but take care before you reveal my real identity, because if you do, my life will be in immediate danger and you will place Daniel’s life in jeopardy as well.” She turned and grasped the door handle.

“Where are you going,
wife
? It’s late.”

“I’ll find someplace to sleep where I won’t have to worry about being accosted by leering men,” she snapped, unable to bite her tongue in time.

“But didn’t you just try to tell me that you’re my wife? If that is so, then you should share my cabin.”

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
.”

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.