Hart's Desire (Pirates & Petticoats Book 1)

by Chloe Flowers

  Orvis Pike leaned around the corner and gestured to a pair of wagons waiting behind him. Two men slipped down and grasped the bridle of each horse and began to lead the teams forward. Suddenly, the loud ‘clop’ on the cobblestones made everyone freeze in stunned silence.

  “One of the mufflings has fallen off,” whispered a driver.

  “Crowe, you’d best check them all before we head on,” hissed the other driver. “And Pike! Check all the wheels!”

  “Aye, Cap’n Gampo, sir.” Orvis muttered as he scampered hastily about, doing as he was told. He ran his hands over the strips of oiled leather covering each wheel. All metal parts were wrapped in strips of dark cloth to keep them from jingling with the horses’ movements. As soon as everything was secure, Crowe motioned for all to move out. The caravan stopped near the warehouse doors.

  With the stealth of a shadow, Gampo descended from the lead wagon. Producing a key, he placed it in the lock and turned it until it gave a dull ‘click.’ After a quick glance toward the end of the building and the sleeping sentry, he pulled a glass bottle from his pocket and squatted by the door hinges and removed the cork with his teeth. After the hinges had been fully doused with the oil, the man stepped back and gently pulled one of the doors open a bit and then closed it again, testing. He repeated this procedure several more times. Satisfied he had eliminated any squeaks, he opened both doors wide.

  One of the men gestured toward the snoring sentry near the corner. Gampo glanced at the man, noted the whiskey bottle next to him and gave a slight shake of his head. The other shrugged then stepped down and grabbed the halter of one of the horses and led it inside. The doors closed silently.

  Once inside the warehouse, the men remained motionless, barely breathing. Hawkins struck a match to the candle wedged between the boards of the wagon seats.

  “Crowe and Pike, take the blankets and cover the windows facing the street," Gampo directed in a harsh whisper. “Once they’re done, light your lanterns and get to work.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  Crowe and Orvis Pike went about doing what their boss ordered. They all were well aware there was no room for error. Failing to execute even one small detail could get them caught. Getting caught would get them hanged. It gave the men strong impetus to do the job correctly.

  An hour later the wagons were loaded with casks of brandy and whiskey, rolls of silk fabric, boxes of spices, ammunition and countless other treasures from across the sea. They snuffed out the lanterns and removed the blankets from the windows. Gampo was the last to exit. He glanced over at the slumbering sentry and chuckled. The poor tar would have a great deal of explaining to do when his employer arrived in the morning. Still smiling, Gampo reached into his pocket, pulled out the key and locked the doors.

  “That ought to give ‘im something to think about," he mumbled to himself. Then he followed the wagons down the street.

  The sentry shifted slightly. Steel blue eyes glinted from under the rim of his hat, as he watched the wagons pull away. After giving a slight wave to the roof of the boarding house across the street, an oil lamp flared in answer. Landon Hart rose and headed in the direction taken by the wagons seconds before.

  “They turned east down the next street,” Landon whispered to Conal O’Brien, as they followed the path of the thieves, staying near the darker shadows. “They’re heading in the direction of those warehouses we scouted earlier.”

  Conal, who was half a head taller than Landon and two stones heavier, nodded. “Hopefully to the one that contains the rest of our cargo. It’ll be harder to find the first half if they put this load in a different place.”

  A couple weeks earlier, several wagonloads of goods from the hold of one of their damaged ships was stolen en route to a warehouse he’d rented. The worst part, was that thieves had severely injured a young galley boy in the process.

  He and Conal had known it was a risky venture but the only way to find out where the first half of their goods were hidden, was to leave the rest vulnerable. Conal had made it known at the pub near the docks that they had rented the most secure warehouse in the city and had complete confidence in the quality of the locks. They were so convinced, he’d bragged, they had decided only one man was needed to guard the lot.

  The thieves swallowed the bait and now Landon had his hook embedded deeply.

  An ugly image of Keelan in the brutal arms of a pirate or leering privateer nudged its way to the forefront of Landon’s daydreams. He couldn’t get the fiery-haired vixen out of his mind. This was no time to be preoccupied with thoughts of a woman, but this wasn’t just any woman, it was his heart, his love. It was difficult to avoid thinking about how sweet her mouth tasted or how she smelled of jasmine and sunshine…how passionately her body curved into his…

  Stop it.

  It hadn’t been his intention to become entangled with her when they made port in Charleston. He and Conal O’Brien had just suffered a major loss of a third partner in their shipping business, Conal’s Uncle Fynn, at the hands of Gampo, a ruthless pirate. Vengeance was their objective. Fynn deserved no less.

  They’d intentionally planned a trade route to include a stopover in Charleston so Fynn could meet with a Commodore George Grey, Keelan’s father. Fynn had been very secretive about his reasons why he wanted to meet with the commodore. So, following the run-in with Gampo, they tucked their ships in dry dock for repairs, then Landon and Conal decided to keep Fynn’s mysterious meeting out of curiosity more than anything.

  It was there, at Twin Pines plantation, where he met Keelan, masquerading as a boy and dueling with swords with her father’s valet in a small meadow a short distance from the main house. It was only after he’d had given her a brief lesson in knife throwing that he the learned that boy was actually a young lady. Conal had found it highly amusing and had retold the story several times at the Whistling Pig Tavern, where they’d rented rooms.

  What Conal didn’t see, occurred later the same morning. Landon had caught Keelan eavesdropping from the depths of the garden bushes. At the time, he had no idea she was the commodore’s daughter. He saw her as a curiosity. Up close she was more than that. She was smooth and lithe with the quickness of a boy and the curves of a woman.

  Eyes wide like a startled doe and lush lips parted in surprise, she’d have bolted if her hair hadn’t been severely tangled in the branches. How could any normal man possibly resist the opportunity to kiss her?

  She froze in shock at first of course, but after a moment her lips softened and she began to move her tongue with his. What had started out as a boyish prank soon became something over which he nearly lost control. Especially when he pressed his hips against hers and instead of pushing him away, she slid her hands over his forearms and pulled him closer. The only thing between his erection and her was…

  Enough!

  Focus on the task at hand, which right now, was retrieving their stolen cargo without getting killed.

  Then, he’d locate Keelan and find out why she had not yet come to the docks. She’d promised to sail away with him on his ship, the Desire. He’d fallen in love with her. They were to be married. Unless…she’d changed her mind.

  He couldn’t think about that now. There was work to be done.

  Landon pulled a bottle from his pocket and took a mouthful of the amber liquid. He sloshed it around then spit it into his hands and rubbed it on his face and shirt. He handed the bottle to his friend.

  “Seems a shame to waste such good whiskey,” Conal muttered sadly, as he repeated the same procedure.

  Landon grinned. “Leave it to an Irishman to mourn the loss of a mouthful of whiskey.”

  “Look who’s talkin’.”

  Landon threw his arm over Conal’s shoulders. “Let’s go.”

  The two men staggered down the alley.

  Conal broke into song:

  Oh, my wee lass is a fine, young lass if ever a lass there be…

  Her tits as big as a bowl of figs

  Hips b
roader than a wil…(burp)…low tree…

  Oh my wee lass is a fine young lass held in high regard,

  Her bannocks made with flour ’n lard…

  Big as me cock…and just as hard!

  They burst into bawdy laughter and stumbled past the first warehouse with no incident. However, just as they passed the doors to the second building, a wide bulk blocked their path.

  “Hey there, mates. Where’re ye headin’?”

  Landon and Conal halted, each swaying slightly.

  “Why, we be headin’ to Miz LeBlanc’s housh, my big man,” Conal slurred. “Gonna bed me a strong Irish lash wi’ the biggest tits in Charson. Char-lesson.” He shook his head numbly. “Town,” he finally stated firmly.

  Landon thrust the bottle at the burly guard. “Ha’ yersef a taste and join us, man.” He jiggled the bottle enticingly. “But we git firs’ choice of the wenches, since it’s our idea.”

  The man frowned and shook his head. “Ye couple of drunken sots can’t find yer way to a tit if ye was locked in a room full of nanny goats. Madame LeBlanc’s be two blocks west of here.”

  “Two more blocks, ye say? Wish way is west?” Landon scowled and squinted over the tar’s shoulder. The windows were covered but he could see a sliver of light through the side of one of them and a bright red bolt of silk. His silk, he’d wager.

  Conal made an exaggerated turn toward his friend. “Did not the wench say one street north and two streets east?” he said with arms crossed and fingers jutting into the air, pointing in two different directions.

  “Aye. She said two streets south and three streets east,” Landon bobbed his head, then staggered a couple dizzy steps sideways.

  “Ha’ we been goin’ east or wes’?”

  The warehouse guard rolled his eyes. “Listen lads," he said impatiently, pointing back up the alley. “Turn yer arses around and go two streets that way and turn left.” He waved his left arm and pointed. “Madam LeBlanc’s be the white house with the red front door. Ye can’t miss it.”

  “Two up then left ye say?” Landon repeated, blinking.

  “Yes, man. LEFT. Turn LEFT.” The sentry confirmed in an exasperated tone as he batted his hand to the left yet again.

  Conal brightened. “Oh, well then. It’s not sa far from here. We thank ye verra mush, me good man.” He clapped the man on the back and nearly fell down.

  Landon made a show of helping Conal regain his balance then wrapped his arm over his friend’s shoulders and spun him around. “Let’s be off then. Ahead and to the lef’!”

  “The left!”

  Conal thumped Landon on the back and pointed up the street. “To the wenches!”

  “The wenches!”

  The two men staggered a few steps before pivoting around again to face the surly guard.

  “Ye sure ye won’t join us for a romp?” Conal shouted, although he was barely more than ten feet away.

  The man gave a wave and shook his head. “Nay lads, I’m workin’ this night. Have a warehouse full of goods to guard.” He pulled aside his vest to show the handle of a pistol sticking out of his waistband. “Ye go on.”

  “Suit yershelf,” Landon slurred. The two men swung back around and shuffled away.

  The guard chuckled as the drunkards staggered down the alley and paused a moment before making a right turn. Leaning against the warehouse door he gave a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Ye’ll not lay a lass this night, lads.”

  Chapter Two

  Keelan Grey stood at the foot of the grave, gazing at the sharply chiseled marks on the stone without really seeing them. This afternoon, they’d buried Papa in the Circular Congregational Church cemetery on Meeting Street. The strange illness the had consumed him over the past year finally took him the night of her cousin’s ball…the night Landon had professed his love…the night he asked her to marry him. Strange that one evening could be both the best night and worst night of her life.

  Just before Papa died, he’d made a confession that tossed her life upside-down. He’d planted the seed of a question in her mind and then demanded of her a promise she’d vowed to keep. What would Landon think of it all?

  Aunt Sarah patted her shoulder. “Keelan, please walk with us,” she prodded in a quiet voice. “Your uncle has arranged a luncheon at Rosewood’s boarding house.”

  “I’m just not hungry now, Aunt Sarah,” Keelan responded, giving her aunt a small smile. “I need a few moments alone, then I’ll return to the town house.”

  And gather my things and go.

  The afternoon sun was obscured by a layer of gray which threatened rain. Aunt Sarah seemed to hesitate a moment. The older woman glanced around. Was she worried that Captain Hart would appear from behind one of the large oaks lining the cemetery? Or that Dr. Garrison would show up and cause a scene?

  He aunt had good reason to worry about both. Keelan had been entangled in two very scandalous events, one involving Captain Landon Hart and the other involving…Captain Landon Hart. First, there was an outing without a chaperone, then there was a kiss in the garden resulting in a broken engagement with Dr. Garrison, who’d taken the news badly and she couldn’t blame him.

  Although wildly handsome and devilishly charming, Landon Hart was everything her mother had warned her about ‘men of the sea’…men who could seduce a woman with a look and leave her the following day, off to the next port, the next woman, the next adventure. Keelan understood this; she’d watched as her mother became bitter and lonely while Papa had been away sailing with the Royal Navy.

  She didn’t want to live her mother’s life, married to a man who’s mistress was the sea, therefore, she’d reluctantly accepted a marriage proposal from Papa’s physician, Dr. Everett Garrison a few days before her cousin’s ball.

  Dr. Garrison was a quiet, practical man with a quiet, practical life.

  Still, her heart and body had wanted Landon Hart. If Papa hadn’t died that night, she’d have run away with him the moment he asked her to marry him instead of the doctor. Her uncle and aunt wouldn’t approve of her marriage to Hart, which is why she hadn’t told them their plans.

  Aunt Sarah fidgeted with her bonnet ribbon a moment and then finally said, “Don’t be too long, dear. I’ll ask Slaney and Daniel to wait for you. You shouldn’t walk home alone.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Sarah.” They were always vigilant. An assassin had murdered her mother and Papa’s brother and his family. No one knew if the assassin would come to Charleston, or even why her family was targeted. She suspected it had to do with Papa’s court marshal. He’d fired on the wrong ship; it sank killing innocent passengers.

  After a word from her aunt, Keelan’s maid paused and sat on a bench near the far edge of the cemetery to wait. Daniel, her father’s valet, joined her.

  Daniel had been Papa’s valet when he was home, and her tutor when Papa was at sea. He taught her not only to read, write and mathematics, but also self defense. She was quite proud of her skills with a blade. She had Daniel to thank for that.

  They’d arrived yesterday from Twin Pines. After making a trip to the pier and back, Daniel had informed her Landon Hart’s ship, the Desire, was flying the blue flag signaling it was ready to depart.

  He was waiting for her.

  Daniel looked up as she stopped beside him and he rose to his feet. He held out a hand for the maid, Slaney, and she took it, allowing him to help her rise to her feet.

  “It’s hard to believe he’s gone.”

  “Yes, mistress. I know you’ll miss him. As will I,” Daniel said in a low soft voice.

  “We all will,” Slaney added.

  “What will you both do now?” Keelan asked. Slaney and Daniel had been like family to her since she was small. With Papa at sea most of the time and her mother in Chatham, running their shop, Daniel and Slaney had practically raised her.

  “We’ll fulfill our obligation to the commodore and see you safely back to the country cottage in England, as promised,” Daniel said. “Unless you hav
e decided to remain here, instead.”

  “No,” she interrupted. “I have no wish to remain on the plantation. You heard what Papa said. He’s left me nothing. His entire estate has gone to Uncle Jared. I no longer have Twin Pines as my dowry.” She wasn’t angry or upset at this sudden turn of events. In fact it was a relief.

  She had other plans that involved Captain Hart, a wedding and a ship.

  Daniel peered at her. “By removing you from his will, the commodore thought he was forcing you to act on his request to find your real father.”

  Although truly, it was unnecessary; her curiosity and longing to know who she was and where she came from would have driven her to search for the man anyway. But Papa hadn’t known that. He hadn’t really known her well at all.

  “I made a promise to find him, and I will.”

  “Then Daniel and I will be ready to join ye,” Slaney said. “Yer like a daughter to us both. We’ll not leave ye unless ye wish it.” She looped her arm through Keelan’s and gave her a knowing look.

  Slaney’s words tugged her heart. “Thank you, Slaney. I can only hope that the contents in the trunk Papa told us about will help my cause and not hinder it.” She looked up at the valet. “You heard what he said. My mother and that man…”

  Daniel’s eyes softened.“Yes, I heard. But the commodore said the man, your real father, would want to know about you.”

  She sighed, her heart and head in turmoil. It’s rare that a bastard child is ever welcomed into a household. The scorn of her sire’s wife might be more than she could take.

  Slaney peered at her closely. “But what about Captain Hart? I know ye fancy the man. Will ye leave him behind?”

  She chewed her lip. How much should she tell them? It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them. Her life was in such tumult right now; how much she should burden them?