Hart's Desire (Pirates & Petticoats Book 1) (19 page)

“Slaney says men of the sea have women in every port and isle. How many maidens have you tarnished in your conquests?”

Landon Hart threw back his head and laughed. The genuine sound was contagious, and this time she laughed softly along with him. Amusement lingered in the corners of his eyes for a moment, then he sobered and leaned toward her.
 

Her amusement faded as she pressed her shoulders against the wall in a vain attempt to keep a fair distance between them. Landon’s eyes glittered dangerously and she squirmed, now a bit unsure of her choice of topics.
 

When he spoke, his voice was low and smoky. “If I became a pirate, my lady, you would be in dire need of a champion. I’d deem you a most valuable conquest indeed, and wouldn’t wait long before claiming you as my own.”
 

Keelan swallowed. This maddening talent he had, turning her words to his advantage, vexed her, spurring her to attempt to deflate his ego to a more manageable level.

She plunged stubbornly on. “You must have no desire to take a wife or start a family, or surely you would have done so. How long do you stay in a port? A few weeks? That’s not nearly enough time to court a prospective bride. I can only conclude, you have no wish for a family of your own.”

Landon leaned back to recline against the adjacent wall, rested a hand over his bent knee, and finished chewing his fried roll before responding. “Aye. ’Tis true in part. I don’t normally stay for long when I run the trade routes.” His gaze locked with hers. “While I would treasure being part of a family, marriage does not suit me.” He broke her gaze and stared at the fire.

How would he know unless he tried it? It dawned on her. “You’ve been married before,” she observed. Curiously, he must have tried to keep a life on land while maintaining his life on the water. But like any man of the sea, the temptations are too many. The ability to stray with no repercussions had to be difficult to resist. No marriage can weather the battering of that kind of storm.

“Aye,” he whispered to the flames. “I was married, once.”

“And?” she prompted. For some twisted reason, she wanted him to prove her right and say it was too hard to remain faithful, that the sea would be his only love.

“She died in childbirth,” he stated numbly. “While I was away.”

His words jarred her as if she’d been hit in the stomach. This wasn’t what she expected to hear. A dark cloud of guilt settled on her shoulders for assuming his marriage failed because he lacked fidelity.

Landon reached over and tossed a broken clapboard on the fire. “But, you are correct,” he mused. “Courting a worthy bride cannot be accomplished in the span of the few weeks I’m in port.” Leaning forward again, he traced a finger along her jaw, turning her face toward his before lowering his voice to a husky whisper. “However, I must admit, my sweet Keelan, your beauty, your wit, your courage…has given me pause to consider
making
the time.”

Keelan tore her gaze from his and busied herself, cutting another small slice of cheese, annoyed she was once again flustered by his words, so much so, her hands were shaking. She wished she could attribute it to the lack of food and the recent terror she experienced. She must look as wobbly as a new foal. Even the knife became an awkward tool, and she fumbled with it.
 

Landon gently removed the rebellious utensil from her fingers. He cut a chunk of the cheese and impaled it upon the tip of his blade. He passed it to her, and she plucked the cheese from the knife while giving him a small, embarrassed nod of thanks.
 

Landon’s damp, black curls fell forward around his face, giving him a roguish countenance, and she wanted to reach over and brush them away. She occupied her fingers by wrapping them in her skirt. What was it about this man that drew her to him? Why would her body continue to defy her common sense so foolishly?

He’d been married before; he should know that a marriage requires more than beauty and wit. She managed to jerk her head away, breaking eye contact. “Beauty doesn’t make a marriage. Nor do riches or passion. I will marry only for love or not marry at all.”
 

She passed the flask back to Landon. “I witnessed what my father’s absences did to my mother. I’ll not live in another lonely house.” She leaned her head back against the wall and stared at the web-thatched ceiling far above them. “I’d rather stay unmarried and open a shop in Charleston where I could sell all kinds of exotic fabrics, spices, and goods from across the ocean. I could never be lonely doing that.”

She flicked the back of her hand at him, as if swatting a swarm of gnats. “And no matter how handsome or silk-tongued he is, I would never be able to love a man who comes home to port for a few weeks time, only to get me fat-bellied with child, then leave me alone for months.” She bit her tongue. Again, she spoke without considering her words. Is that what happened to his wife? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so forthright. It wasn’t my intention to insult,” she murmured.

A gentle finger on her chin guided her gaze back up to his. A curious light shone in his eyes. The humor had left, and in its place was a smoldering blue fire glittering with a mesmerizing luminosity. The intensity of his stare made her lungs still. He leaned forward until his face was inches from hers.

“Any man who would leave you alone for even an hour would be a fool.”

Landon lowered his lips toward hers and her heart pounded loudly in her chest and her head and her stomach. In fact, it shook her entire body. Her mind screamed for her to retreat, but she wanted the touch of his lips against hers again and the warmth of his strong arms pulling her closer.

A blinding light flashed through the cozy interior. It was joined instantly by a loud blast of thunder. At the next flash of lightning and peal of thunder, she gratefully buried her face in his neck. She was again pummeled by the delicious scent from her dream. She inhaled deeply, grateful she was reclining or else her legs would have surely given out. She no longer cared what she should or shouldn’t do. She was under a spell or in a dream, where her actions and desires couldn’t affect reality.
 

Landon studied the woman who had stirred his interest so strongly and his passions so wildly. She was like a sprite flitting and dancing beneath the wide, waxy leaves of a magnolia tree; some moments still and pensive, others quick and carefree. He thought he’d discovered the real Keelan earlier at the lake, but now he wasn’t as sure. Was she the boyish imp sparring so bravely? Was she the stunning, yet haughty maiden ready to dash his heart into the fire? Or the beautiful fire-haired water nymph who drew him to her like a fish on a string? The mystery only stoked his curiosity, making him even more determined to solve it. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, he had a strong desire to be with her, beyond just to kiss and make love to her. He wanted to listen to her talk and laugh; he wanted to protect her and see her safe. He wanted to know what she was thinking. And he wanted to taste the skin on her stomach, run his fingers over her ribs, and down over her hip and stroke the soft skin of her inner thigh.

She was studying him. In the twilight of the storm-darkened afternoon, her eyes glowed a jeweled green. It was like looking into the untamed gaze of a dragon, shimmering with fire and energy, ready to erupt into heat and flame. His desire to kiss her was urged on by an unexplained passion to capture without conquering, to yield without surrendering, and to protect without imprisoning.
 

She hadn’t hidden her distrust of him. The barrier she fought so hard to build slipped only in the height of an impassioned kiss or during a sparring match of words and wit.
 

Yet it slipped.
 

For a few brief moments, she allowed him to view something more than aloofness in the depths of those emerald eyes. A competitive spirit. Humor. A zest and passion for life. She was not afraid to take risks. He liked that.

But her assessment of him was accurate.
 

He would never sacrifice his business or his crew by leaving the sea for a married life. He loved the adventure and the thrill of experiencing new things too much to give it up entirely. The sea was as much a part of him as his skin.

Could a maiden gently raised possibly care for a man who offered her love, but not marriage; loyalty, but not lands; riches, but not lineage? She’d admitted she cared nothing about titles and wealth, but could love alone truly satisfy her?
 

Could love, alone, really win her?
 

Could a lifetime of devotion, loyalty, and protection be enough to claim her? If he asked, would she join him, share a life with him? Her eyes flared with a passionate light when she spoke about selling exotic items in her shop. He’d known her a few days, yet it seemed they’d known each other for years. He could see inside her somehow. She wanted him, she wanted to refuse him, but more, she wanted her independence, which meant she would always chose life in town over life on the water. He could never tame that part of her, nor would he ever want to.
 

He stroked the soft skin of her cheek and neck. The little noise she made deep in her throat vibrated lightly against his fingers, and he sucked in his breath. Restraint was almost impossible with her so close he could see the flecks of gold in her irises. She was a siren, and he was helpless against her wild, sensual call.

He stared at the beauty who gazed at him with raw, untamed passion. She had no idea the affect she had on him, the power she had over him. A throbbing pressure flared through his core. Was he strong enough to keep himself in check? He wanted nothing more than to lay Keelan down and make love to her, but common sense urged restraint. Here was a rare jewel, one he must earn. To take her this moment would probably earn him her hatred later. Normally, there wouldn’t be a later, and now he surprised himself by desiring it.

Keelan’s lips were parted as she took a ragged breath. Gone was the mistrust and haughty shield of indifference, replaced now by the vulnerable wonder of a maiden, and the heated need of a woman. His desire for her intensified, and with a low curse, he pulled her against his chest and eased her back down onto the saddle blanket. The mere thought of kissing her tore at his control. He lowered his head and pressed his lips against the sweet skin of her neck.
 

He was weak.

Keelan hungered in a way she couldn’t describe. The taste of his lips on her mouth, the hard, warm press of his body, the air she could barely draw into her lungs left her intoxicated. She craved the sensation of his kisses. He moved to a tender spot behind her ear, which made her lose all sense of time and space. She wasn’t sure of anything except that she didn’t want this to end. A strange thrill fluttered over every inch of her skin, making it tingle and vibrate. She put her hand under his jaw, brought his mouth to hers, and kissed his lower lip before sucking on it gently. A low growl reverberated within his chest, and he slid his fingers around the back of her neck and into her hair and kissed her.

His mouth ravaged hers, stealing her breath, and leaving her swirling somewhere in the clouds high above the storm. The shock of his palm on her breast was quickly replaced by a torturous bliss when his thumb began to rub circles around her nipple. It hardened beneath the fabric of her gown, and she covered his hand with her own, before pressing it more firmly against her. His caresses became more urgent, making her moan at the unexpected pleasure of it. The touch of his fingers as they traced a trail down her ribcage lured her closer, and she arched toward his heat. His hand found her hip and pulled it flush against him. He was hard and hot, and she could barely breathe.

Her tongue danced with Landon’s. How could anyone tire of kisses like this? Kissing him was like breathing; it was a requirement.

She wanted more. Needed more.
 

She wanted to move away.
 

She wanted to press against his hand and beg him for another caress.
 

She…wanted.

Landon eased his hand under her skirt and caressed her calf. Her breath hitched when his fingers traced an invisible line up over her thigh. The intense throbbing at the juncture where her legs joined made it impossible to think of anything else. It was impossible to even think.

Keelan’s hand closed around his forearm, stilling his fingers inches away from the moist heat he sought. He would not push her beyond her demand. For a reason eluding his logical mind at the moment, he needed her to crave his touch, even demand it. God, how he wanted her. He raised his head and searched her face for the answer he needed. Her breath came in light pants.

“Landon…I…”

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop,” he whispered hoarsely. He kissed the spot that pulsed wildly on her neck and she moaned. “I only want to touch you, Keelan, no more, I promise.” His hand stayed in place, but he moved his thumb in tiny circles on the inside of her thigh. Her grip on his arm tightened, and her pupils widened with desire. She closed her eyes and breathed his name as his fingers brushed over the fine curls covering her womanhood.
 

“Touching your skin is like touching the sun and the rain. So warm…” Her hips moved up against his palm. “…So moist.” She opened her eyes, and he lost himself in the darkened pools of green that captured his gaze. They were filled with need, desire, and bewilderment.

“What is it that makes me want to breathe you in as if you are the last breath of air on earth?” It baffled him.

“Sometimes,” she whispered, “the same thought flows through my mind.”

His heart jolted and his mouth went dry. For once, he had no words. She reached up and pulled his head down and kissed him and he fell into a pool of fire and emeralds.

He lightly slipped his fingers into her soft silky folds to made languid circles around her opening before moving up to that pleasure spot and repeating the movement. Her soft gasp against his mouth pleased him.