A smile spread across his face with the slowness of a sunrise. “It’s indeed been my pleasure serving you.” The mockery in his tone made her want to punch him. “As much as I desire to linger, regrettably I must go, though it takes all my strength as a man to do so.” He gave her an exaggerated bow, bade her farewell, and left the garden.
In a mute stupor, Keelan watched him walk away. Numbly, she lifted a shaking hand to her throbbing lips, still swollen and hot, and uncurled her palm. Oddly, it was not marked, but it burned as if a hot coal had been pressed against it. The sensations both thrilled and terrified her. She inhaled and tried to steady her frayed nerves and slow her pounding heart. Even as reason had warned her to resist, her body hadn’t listened. Keelan had never been drawn to a man in this way before. It left her horrified, bewildered…even a little curious.
As reason returned, the way she’d allowed Hart to take advantage of her position infuriated her. Her own stupidity disgusted her. He’d known exactly what he was doing to her; he was, after all, a sailor.
Her mother might not have been the most nurturing mother in Chatham, but she did make sure her daughter was well-informed about the type of men who commit their lives to the sea. Most were quite libertine in their way of life. According to her mother, they lacked moral principle and any sense of responsibility, as did the women with whom they tarried.
Therefore, she learned to be wary of Captain Hart’s type: wanton and promiscuous. Seducing women was merely a game to him and those like him. Her naiveté had probably amused the man. She gritted her teeth at her stupidity as well as the shame of being among the women Captain Hart had seduced into a kiss.
She wouldn’t fall prey to his game again. And she most certainly would never seek the arms of a seaman who traveled from port to port. Why would she ever choose to live her mother’s life, full of longing and bitterness?
A shrill scream shattered Keelan’s musings spurring her into motion. She ran from the garden, searching for the source of the panicked cry. A young slave boy, of perhaps nine or ten years, burst from the smoke house, his shrieks ringing across the grounds. He stumbled and fell.
Keelan recognized the boy as Ruth’s child, Joseph, whose chicken-feeding duty had been performed earlier by Slaney. Although crippled, he did a fine job tending the smokehouse, fueling the fire, and keeping the coals smoldering while defending the meat from the dogs.
Using the fire poker as a brace, he now struggled to heave himself to his feet. Keelan ran to help the child. Had he been burned?
Before she could close the distance between herself and Joseph, a snarling creature limped out of the smoke house, its short thick fur raised along its spine. The boy shrieked again, and in his panicked haste to retreat, lost his footing and tumbled back to the ground.
In the distance, the door to the kitchen house flew open and clattered against the wall. Ruth emerged, yelling for help.
Keelan’s chest constricted in panic. The dog staggered toward the boy, it's gaping mouth frothing wildly. Joseph brandished the poker in the direction of the enraged creature and swung at it in terror, striking its muzzle. The animal yelped, shook its head and lowered its gaze, yellowed eyes locked with Joseph’s terrified ones. There was no time to bridge the distance. Her dagger still hung in its sheath. Keelan slid to a stop and snatched out her dirk and threw it.
And missed.
She could hear Daniel's voice in her head telling her she rushed the throw, her chest wasn’t pointed to the target. Her wrist wasn’t cocked right (Hart’s voice). The knife flew over the creature’s shoulder and hit the ground a few feet away. The movement or sound of the blade hitting the earth took the dog’s attention from the boy. A jolt shot through her limbs, and for a second she was paralyzed. Joseph still sat, frozen in terror on the ground, defenseless.
The dog swung its head back to the boy. The image of the rabid dog attacking the child spurred Keelan into action. She clapped her hands and shouted, again gaining the animal’s attention. It turned and took a step toward her and lowered its head. A low, insidious growl emanated from deep within its throat.
At least if the animal came after her, she could run and pray she made it back to the kitchen house before the dog could catch her. It would give Joseph time to scramble to his feet and lock himself in the smokehouse. It was then she remembered Daniel’s dagger she’d wedged between her waistband and belt earlier.
She grabbed it and paused long enough to take careful aim, using the grip Captain Hart had taught her, then cocked her wrist and threw. The blade pierced the ragged fur behind the animal’s shoulder. It snarled and snapped its jaws at the hilt as it fell, twisting and writhing less than four feet from where Joseph sprawled, wide-eyed, on the ground.
Landon rounded the corner in time to see Keelan throw the dagger. One glance at the creature writhing on the ground told him the animal was diseased and dangerous. Even wounded, the dog’s bite could kill. If Keelan drew too close to it… He doubted the proud young woman would heed an order to go no closer, so he picked up his pace.
He rushed past Keelan, pulled Joseph to his feet then swung him up over his shoulder, and carried him further from the creature, before depositing him back on the ground. As he’d hoped, it drew Keelan away from the rabid animal.
She knelt by the young boy’s side. Shaking hands still clutched the poker and large tears streamed down the boy’s cheeks as he dragged in shallow, ragged breaths. His eyes were filled with shock and fear, and he stared at Keelan as if she had sprouted three heads. Perhaps he didn’t even recognize her.
“Are you hurt?” she asked softly, helping him to his feet. She kept hold of the boy’s arm and gently brushed a spot of soot from his nose.
Joseph answered her question with a negative shake of his head, his gaze locked on her face. Two other slave boys crept closer to Keelan’s side.
“Good God, Miss Keelan, you pierced the monster’s heart!”
He nodded in appreciation. “A good throw.”
The boys’ eyes brightened in awe. “How’d you learn to do dat, Miss Keelan?”
With an impish glint in her eyes, she responded, “Captain Hart taught me this morning.”
The chit was smart. She’d just put him in Daniel’s place in the meadow. When gossip traveled about the plantation, it would be his name associated with the incident.
One of the boys leaned forward and said in a raspy whisper, “Ain’t no one going’ to believe dis.”
“Ain’t nobody… goin’ to hear… about it,” Ruth panted, stopping for breath beside Keelan. She pointed her meat mallet at the boys.
“As far as anyone knows, I kilt the thing.” She shuffled over to the dying creature and brought the mallet down on its head with a sickening crack.
Keelan cringed and turned away. For all her bravado, it seemed she didn’t have the strongest stomach. Would she faint at the sight of blood? Somehow he didn't expect it, but women were an unpredictable lot.
“Miss Keelan did a brave thing. Don’t you be getting her in trouble with her papa and uncle by blabbin’ yo’ heads about it. Understand?”
“Yes’m,” the chastised boys answered in unison.
Ruth wrung her hands as she turned to face Landon. “Please, sir, I don’t want to see no trouble for Miss Keelan.”
Landon inclined his head. “Rest assured, I won’t retell this tale. It will be our secret.”
There would be a price, though. She glared back at him, obviously reading his expression perfectly. He couldn’t keep from grinning. He suspected she believed the exact opposite, which made the situation even more entertaining for him. He’d enjoy teasing her a bit more, hopefully enough to win another one of her fiery kisses. Or maybe even two.
Ruth reached down to tug free the dirk. After removing it, she wiped the blade on her stained apron and thanked him before turning to Keelan.
“Miss Keelan, I’ll git this knife back to you soon as I boil it clean again.” She turned to the two older boys. “Now t
ake dis mad animal down past the creek and bury it deep.” Ruth waved her hand in dismissal. “Go on, now.”
The braver of the two scuffled over and nudged the mud-caked wild dog with his toe. Satisfied the creature was indeed dead, the boys grasped its hind legs and hauled the carcass away.
Once they were out of sight, Ruth dropped her mallet, grabbed her son with the fierceness of a mother bear, and crushed him to her bosom. Joseph let out a jagged sob. Tears slid down Ruth’s cheeks as she and her son swayed together in the dirt yard.
Keelan’s face softened. What was it? Tenderness? Yes, but there was more to it.
Longing.
Her reaction stirred his curiosity. What did she long for? A child to love or a loving mother?
She pulled her gaze away from mother and son and caught him staring at her. A second later her expression changed to one of guarded wariness. He felt he’d wrongly peeked into a raw corner of her soul.
The slamming of the front door to the main house jarred everyone.
“You’d better leave,” he advised. “I’ll take responsibility for the events here in the yard.”
Keelan gave him a grateful nod and whirled toward the garden path. Her gaze shot to a first floor window. Keelan drew a sharp breath and her mouth parted briefly before snapping closed. He turned in time to see a hand release the curtain. He’d not readily give away her secret, but if someone else had seen the incident, his silence might no longer matter.
Keelan ran to the servant’s door, like a forest sprite in bare feet. He shook his head in wonderment. She’d tweaked his interest, for sure.
He’d find a way to see her again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Keelan tiptoed up to her quarters, where Slaney had a bath waiting in the next chamber. She disrobed, hiding her waif’s garments in an old trunk. A blissful sigh of contentment escaped her lips as she sank into the water. A bundle of herbs secured in a linen pouch floated in the bath, steeping. Keelan inhaled the aroma of lavender, hyssop, and basil. A tincture of the same combination sat in a small bottle by her bed.
“Rub it on yer skin, and it’ll keep ye from becoming a pretty meal for the wee buggers at night,” Slaney had earlier explained.
She reached for a small pat of scented soap and frowned as she pondered the secret observer in her father’s study. She worked up a lather and scrubbed her head and face vigorously. Her hands froze.
Of course. Her father, Mr. O'Brien, and Uncle Jared might have been waiting there to discuss business. She groaned. The spy could have been any of them. Her shoulders tensed. She would find out soon enough if it was Uncle Jared.
Bright, blue eyes interrupted her thoughts. Captain Hart’s slow, easy smile had sent her heart tripping, even though he’d claimed an advantage over her while she was in distress, the black-hearted scoundrel.
Chiseled cheekbones and an ebony mane completed the picture in her mind. She ought to berate herself for letting such meanderings carry her to a place she would never go, but any woman would be helpless to control herself from mooning over him at least a little.
This is nothing more than a passing infatuation.
The captain would not linger long in these climes. Soon, his ship would take him to far off ports, where other more willing young maids would fill his arms and his desires.
Her breast tingled at the memory of his arm pressed near it when he had reached around her body to adjust her grip on his dagger. Everything about him was memorable, from his face to his broad shoulders, flat belly, and the strong male hardness pressed against her while they kissed… She leaned her head against the back of the tub. Every future suitor would now be held against the standard Landon Hart’s kiss had set. She almost felt sorry for them; they’d never meet the mark.
The strings of infatuation were vastly different from those of love. Although not certain how to tell those two emotions apart, she did recognize a rake when she saw one. Captain Hart fit that description perfectly. He was definitely not the type who would offer love and honor-bound marriage.
She doubted he needed to make such promises for women to offer their bodies for his pleasure.
She straightened. Although her father would argue, her hand in marriage (as well as her virginity) was hers to keep or hers to give; she would relinquish them only for love and honor, no less. A man like Captain Hart had no reason or desire to offer her either.
Not that she cared.
Still…the situation Hart currently controlled set her stomach fluttering. Just how did he plan to “collect his due another day?” More importantly, what would he demand?
A small clock on the mantle chimed the eighth hour. Keelan expelled a lungful of air. She could change nothing by sitting in the tub and worrying about her reckless behavior. As tempting as it was to permit the fingers of procrastination to grip her limbs and pull her deeper into the bath, she forced herself to rise.
There was a light knock on the bedroom door and she heard Slaney’s light step. “’Tis me, myself, Mistress. Ruth made some Indian corn porridge for ye ter take to yer Da.'”
The cheerful maid popped her head into the bathing room and handed Keelan a linen towel. “Come, I’ll help ye with yer dress and yer hair.” Slaney crossed to the tallboy and began to sift through Keelan’s undergarments. “Will ye wear the blue gown to the ball? ‘Tis yer most flattering, ye know. I pressed the ribbons yesterday in the event ye may need them.”
“I suppose the blue gown will be fine.” Keelan briskly toweled her arms. Cousin Doreen’s upcoming ball was the talk of the Low Country. Dr. Everett Garrison, of course, would attend the affair. Circling another dance floor in his arms would surely be putting her toes at risk of irreparable damage, she was quite certain of it.
Remembering the most recent ball she attended with him, she mumbled, “I am not looking forward to Dr. Garrison trotting upon my toes like a mule on hot coals.” She finished with the towel and tossed it irritably near the foot of the tub.
At Slaney’s disapproving frown, Keelan bit her lip and reached for the light chemise the maid had retrieved from the tallboy.
“Dr. Garrison is a kind man, child. Where would yer Da’ be now without the medicines he provides?” Cocking an eyebrow, Slaney admonished, “It wouldn’t hurt fer ye to show a bit more gratitude toward him.”
She’d been thankful Dr. Garrison accompanied them to Twin Pines after Papa became ill on the journey from London to Charleston.
Slaney was right; she should show her gratitude a bit more. Although it would be difficult. Whenever she and Dr. Garrison were in the same room together, she could sense him watching her every movement. It made her neck tingle.
Slaney stooped and gathered the discarded towels. “We’re in America now. Things are different here. Although Dr. Garrison is a wee bit clumsy and shy, he’s kind. He’s been a close friend to your Da’ and saw to his melancholy when yer mum died.” The maid reached for the vial on Keelan’s bed table, poured a few drops of oil into her palm and rubbed Keelan’s arms briskly.
Dr. Garrison, in a ceaseless effort to find the cause of her father’s illness, spent many evenings in the study poring over his medical journals and writing letters to colleagues in London and Richmond. A tall, gentle man with soft brown eyes and a quick smile, he easily charmed his way into the hearts of all the other women in the household.
“Papa, in truth, doesn’t seem to care that Dr. Garrison is interested in courting me. You realize he is pressing for me to marry Mr. Pratt.”
Just saying his name made her nauseous.
Slaney’s mouth set in a firm line and she gestured for her to step into her gown.
Keelan cocked her head, sensing the maid’s disquiet. “What has raised your ire, Slaney?” The maid looked at her in surprise and she laughed. “You’ve been with me since I was a babe. I can tell when you’re annoyed.”
Slaney flicked her hand impatiently. “I’d just like to see ye find better than old man Pratt.”
“A goat would be b
etter.”
The maid giggled as she began to fasten the buttons. “Another reason that maybe you should consider Dr. Garrison’s attentions.”
To show his gratitude, her father had serendipitously offered to provide the doctor with a portion of the funds he needed to establish an office in Charleston. Her father had done this without her opinion on the matter. She would have advised against it, since they had precious few funds left from selling her mother’s shop in Chatham.
Keelan couldn’t precisely determine why she objected to Dr. Garrison when everyone else seemed to find him so charming. But there was something… Some vague, indefinable thing about him, beyond his clumsy movements, his manner, the way he looked at her, that made her uneasy. He was always polite and kind, yes. Maybe that was what bothered her. He was too polite, too ingratiating, and too eager to win the favor of her and her father.
Whatever it was, she didn’t quite feel at ease around him.
Uncle Jared had even offered Dr. Garrison a room in his townhouse on Meeting Street, giving the doctor time to get his practice established before investing in a residence of his own. However, as her father’s condition worsened, the doctor made fewer trips to his Charleston office, choosing instead to stay with the family at Twin Pines to care for his benefactor. Which seemed loyal and kind…on the outside.
She turned to face the open balcony doors and stared at the long magnolia-lined lane as Slaney quietly began to button the back of her gown. Her room was on the upper corner of the house, giving her the luxury of a view from the north and east sides of the house. A movement caught her attention and she peered through the magnolia branches toward the garden.
To her surprise, Doreen and Dr. Garrison were walking across the yard toward the kitchen house, little Joseph limping between them. When the boy stumbled, Everett stopped and hoisted Joseph up onto his shoulder. The boy laughed and squealed while Dr. Garrison jostled him up, down and sideways, as if he would dump the child at any moment. Doreen laughed at their antics as she walked along with them. Keelan couldn’t help but smile at the scene.
Hart's Desire (Pirates & Petticoats Book 1) Page 4