Hart's Desire (Pirates & Petticoats Book 1) (6 page)

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 better.”

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.

The doctor lowered the boy to the ground as Ruth opened the door. After speaking with her for a moment, Dr. Garrison patted Joseph on the shoulder. Apparently, the child was no worse from the harrowing ordeal with the rabid dog. Dr. Garrison offered his arm to Doreen, and the two of them headed back toward the house. It was the first time Keelan had seen Doreen up and about before noon. What had caused her cousin to adjust her schedule? Perhaps she was keen on the doctor. That lifted Keelan’s spirits. Perhaps Doreen’s affections would distract him from her. She could only hope. And pray. And hope more.

As kind-hearted as the doctor was, Keelan didn’t want to marry him. She didn’t want to marry Pratt for financial reasons, either. She rubbed her eyebrow. She’d do her duty as a good daughter, but it wouldn’t keep her from trying to find a more pleasing route to the altar. She also didn’t want to disappoint her ailing father. If only she could devise a way to please him without having to spend the rest of her life miserable.

Keelan still held to the dream. Why couldn't she fall in love with a man who set her heart afire and whose kisses left her breathless? She wanted a man willing to lay his heart bare, pledge to her his undying faith and devotion, and gently accept her heart in his hands to cherish and protect until the end of his time.

But if her uncle and father had their way, she would marry a man simply for convenience.
 

If this was to be the case, she’d rather not marry at all.
 

Again, her mind wandered to a tall man with wild, black hair and eyes the color of a cloudless sky. His fingers were warm and gentle and the outside of his thigh hard against the softness of the inside of hers. His lips were sweet and passionate, and…

She willed the image away. Keelan had witnessed the effect her father’s long tours at sea had on her mother. The loneliness which accompanied his absence had turned Mother into a quiet, withdrawn shadow.
 

Always sad. Always waiting.

Keelan whirled from the window and sat down. Reaching for a small dish full of pins, she busied her hands. She selected one and held it waiting, as Slaney worked with her long, russet locks. The maid reached over and plucked the pin from Keelan’s fingers.
 

“I did not mean to sound ungrateful before,” she said. “Indeed, Dr. Garrison has been most comforting to my father. He’s a very nice man and genuinely cares about us. I believe he fancies me, and I don’t want to offend him. I only wish I could find a gentle way to tell him I’m not interested in his attentions.”
 

Slaney paused and Keelan envisioned the maid’s stern countenance.
 

“Then you’d best find the words and ply them to his ears soon, lass. Men can’t stand women who play with them like a sated cat toys with a mouse. It makes them irritable.”

She turned to Slaney. “I am not some shameless trollop who flirts with men simply for sport.”
 

“Of course yer not!” Slaney confirmed in a protective tone then continued, softly chiding, “But ye have made no attempt to tell the man his efforts are in vain, either.”

“That’s not…” Her denial died on her lips. She set the dish down and tossed the extra pins into it, a twinge of guilt twirling in her stomach. “You’re right. He’s trying hard to help Papa. I can’t stand the thought of hurting his feelings by telling him I don’t welcome his affections. Although he’s a sincere and compassionate man, I can’t love him.”
 

“Oft times love comes later, lass.” Slaney placed her hand on her shoulder and gave it a motherly squeeze. “Yer head is full of girlish dreams of a knight in silver armor coming to sweep ye away to his castle in the clouds. But if ye set yer standards at that lofty height, ye might find no one capable of making the climb.”

“He has the personality of a doorknob.” Keelan paced in front of her father’s bedroom window. “Mr. Pratt’s an old sniffling, drooling
beast
of a man and I do not wish to marry him, Papa.
Please
.”

Her father’s mouth twitched a tiny bit before he narrowed his right eye at her. His morning nap seemed to have renewed some of his strength. He’d wasted no time bringing up the topic of Pratt’s marriage proposal.

“Keelan, don’t be selfish. Think of what this union could do for our family. It cost a large amount of money for my old friend to clandestinely purchase this plantation and transport the two of us here. The money from the sale of your mother’s shop is almost gone. We can’t afford much more of a delay…” He clutched the bed sheets and stared at his white knuckles, leaving the rest unsaid.

If they lost the plantation, they would have nothing left, not even enough to invest in rent for a shop. Keelan’s stomach churned. She wanted to be a good daughter and do her duty, but to sacrifice her dreams for a miserable life as an aging plantation owner’s wife left her dismally queasy.
 

She turned to face the window in an attempt to hide her growing vexation at her father and bit back the accusation burning on her tongue. If he hadn’t sunk that ship, she’d be running her mother’s shop, instead of living in another country, arguing against a business merger requiring her to marry.
 

 
Her father’s voice dropped, exposing his wounded pride. “Mr. Pratt’s plantation is nearly twice the size of Twin Pines and combined, the property would become the largest in the Low Country.”
 

Since Uncle Jared had moved his family to Charleston a couple years earlier, he’d offered to live on the plantation and help run it until she and her father became comfortable with the task.

Although Uncle Jared did his best, they still faced the end of their first year with dwindling funds and growing uncertainty. They still didn’t have a solid plan for the future generation of income needed to pay their creditors.

“Father, you are asking too much of me.”

“Daughter, I am ill. I would like to see you settled comfortably before I die. Don’t begrudge an old man satisfaction on this issue.”
 

She turned from the window to face her father. “I can settle myself comfortably without relying on a husband.”
 

Especially one older than my father
.
 

She continued. “I handled all the ledgers for Mother’s shop for many years. I know I could run a business in Charleston that would be as successful. Maybe, more so.”
 

She moved to sit on the edge of her father’s bed. “Think of it, Papa." She couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice. “We could buy barrels of exotic spices and fabrics from the southern climes, and sell them not only to the people of Charleston but also to shop owners we know in London.”

Her mother once had a thriving business back home. It was unconventional for a woman to own and run a business, so the shop had been in her father’s name. But it was her mother who had made the business successful. With her father away at sea for months at a time, the shop not only brought in a steady income, but also kept her mother almost too busy to be lonely. Her father sold it, of course, after her mother died. Rather than using the money to open a similar shop in Charleston, he chose to invest it in Twin Pines.
 

She didn't like it. She couldn’t put a finger on the reason why, but it was as if the plantation fit like a shoe that was two sizes too small.
 

“You have a good head for numbers, that’s for sure,” her father agreed. “That is why I need you to keep the Twin Pines ledgers in good form.”

Keelan fidgeted with a loose curl near her ear. “But Father, I’m not comfortable with it. I dislike accounting for people as one would do for livestock. It doesn’t sit well with me.”

The sound of him shifting in his bed made her alter her attention from the loose button and reach for the water pitcher and glass. Her heart lurched at the sight of her father’s shrinking frame. The sickness that had attacked him on the journey here continued to weaken him as the months passed. Even the continuous efforts of Dr. Garrison hadn’t helped in the least.
 

“The new medication brought back from Richmond, is it helping any?” She poured a cup of water for him and pressed it into his hand.

“Nay. I hate the way it twists in my stomach, but the good doctor said it takes time to work. I have to trust he knows the way of this sickness.” He sipped the water and gave the glass back to her. She placed it on his bedside table.