Hart's Passion (Pirates & Petticoats Book 2) (12 page)

“Thank God you did,” Keelan said, much relieved. She couldn’t be more grateful for the protection for her sorely abused feet. She quickly changed in the tack room, stuffed her torn clothes into Daniels sack, and together, they crept out to the street.
 

The night air remained still and thick. With the boots covering her feet, she was able to move more efficiently. By the time they reached the docks, Keelan had informed Daniel of the kidnapping, the suspicious involvement of Jared’s warehouses, Gampo, and the rescue by Hart.

Daniel shook his head grimly. “I can’t believe Jared would do such a thing,”
 

“Landon said much the same,” Keelan whispered. “Yet, it seems too big a coincidence.”

“Who was the tall man you spoke about?”
 

“Gampo, the pirate with whom Captain Hart has been feuding. He kept his face covered and wore a long, dark cloak, and a large hat. For a moment, I thought it could be Everett, except this man was quick and skilled with a saber.” Keelan recalled Everett’s lack of grace in the ballroom. “He spoke only once, but after I struck his throat he was only able to whisper.” Hopefully, the damage was permanent.

They heard the distant clop of hooves. The valet reversed direction and ushered her into a narrow alley, as a small cluster of men trotted past. The two fugitives pressed against the alley wall and held their breath.

Several more sets of footfalls approached from the opposite direction.

“Seen anything yet?” a low voice questioned.

“Nay, not a hair of either of ‘em.”

“We’ll get the devil’s pay if we don’t find the lass fer the cap’n.”

“Aye. I dinna want to be the one to tell ‘im we couldn’t find ‘er.”
 

 
“Best keep searchin’. He said she was probably headin’ northeast, back to ‘er Uncle’s place off Queen Street. Remus, you head right there, and set up a look out for ‘er. We’ll work our way there.”

“Aye.”
 

The man who must have been Remus reined his horse around and took off at a gallop. After a few moments of discussion, the others decided to split up into three groups. Before long, they were on their way.

“You were right.” Daniel glanced at her. “He’s searching for you.” He motioned for her to sit. “The Whistling Pig is nearby.”

 
“Daniel, how will we pay…” She slumped to her knees, exhausted. What was left of her purse was back in Jared’s town house.

The valet bent down and peered closely at her face. “I am not without coin, Mistress. Commodore Grey paid me well. And I made a vow to him that I would take you safely home, or wherever you wish to go.” He nodded toward the harbor. “We
will
find our way.” He knelt and took her hand, grimacing as the chains chinked in response.
 

“Miss Keelan. I love you as if you were my own daughter. I give you my oath, I will protect you until my death. You have always had my allegiance, and you always will. Never forget it.”

She blinked away the tears threatening to fall. She shook her head numbly. She didn’t deserve such loyalty. “Daniel—”

He silenced her as he had done since she was a child, by holding his index finger in front of her nose.

“Please, Mistress, no more talk. You need rest and care.”

Keelan leaned her head back against the bricks until the world stopped tilting. Her body throbbed with every beat of her heart. She became sharply aware of her burning legs and bruised feet and could no longer block out the flames of pain searing her shoulders and back. The muscles in her legs shook as she struggled to her feet. Sparks of pain fluttered across her shoulders. The sparks flew in front of her eyes. Her vision narrowed until there was only one tiny, little spark left.
 

And then, even it went dark.

Everett’s chest burned as if the fires of hell were already beginning to consume him.
 

His plan had failed.
Failed!

Instead of slipping into the upper room of the warehouse and retrieving Keelan as he’d planned, he’d had to turn and bolt back to his office. Something had gone wrong, and the warehouse had been overtaken. Gampo lurched down the iron steps outside the warehouse and bellowed curses at Keelan as she ran the other way down the side alley.
 

His words echoed in his head….
 

“Mark this—I will hunt ye down and put your head on a spike! Ye and that yellow-eyed bastard who bought ye! Ye will pay dearly fer killing my kin!”
 

Something had gone wrong and now the pirate was enraged with both Keelan
and
him. His hands shook as he pulled a key from his pocket and shoved it toward the keyhole. It clattered to the cobblestones at his feet. Cursing, he picked it up and tried again. After several long seconds, he managed to unlock the door, slip inside and swiftly lock it again.
 

He had to get out of Charleston. He ran to his desk and yanked the chair out of the way then dropped to his knees. Not daring to light a lamp, he skimmed his fingers in the dark over the rough planks for the slight gap in the floorboard. Once located, he pulled it up and reached beneath the floor for the leather pouch of gold coins he’d hidden there. They clinked softly as he brought them up and tucked them into the inside pocket of his waistcoat.

A fist hit the front door, sounding like a shot from a pistol.

“Open up ye spawn of a split-tongued, spindle-shanked scug,” a voice growled from the other side.
 

Gampo!

His blood congealed in his veins. He spun in panic. The fist hit the door again. He caught sight of the back stair in the shadows. He darted up the first flight, not even sure of what he would do when he reached the top, his legs burning with the effort. The sound of breaking glass echoed up the stairwell and he practically flew up the second flight.

“Where are ye, ye scabrous jellyfish! I’ll have yer heart for breakfast, I will!”

Everett glanced down the stairwell to check if a figure moved toward him in the darkness. The sound of a flint followed instead and a dull glow seeped up the stair.
 

The pirate had found the lantern. “Thought ye’d just be able to buy her, did ye? Know ye the penalty of runnin’ with the slave traders? ’Tis death. Death!”
 

Everett jolted with the word and spun toward the window. He’d only wanted to take Keelan. He’d offered payment to Gampo if he took her. He wasn’t a slave trader, only a buyer. A buyer!

Gampo’s enraged voice continued, “‘The cargo is easy pickins’, says he. ‘No one will find it,' says he, the addle-brained bilge rat.” The cracking of breaking wood and toppled bookshelves filtered up the stairwell.

Everett glanced around at his surroundings. Perhaps he could hide up here and wait until the pirate left, then he’d head over to the livery first thing in the morning and catch a coach north. Pirates didn’t travel much to the north, did they? By land?

Highwaymen and Indian savages tormented travelers by land.
 

His mind continued to churn. Gampo had remained in Charleston; perhaps his vessel was not yet seaworthy. An ocean passage would be both quicker and safer. He’d leave Charleston
 
and go as far from the pirate as he could manage.

The light from the lantern began to grow and move. Was Gampo coming up the steps? The glow was still swelling, but its brightness was now muffled by a haze of smoke.

 
Fire!

He dashed to the staircase and glanced over the railing. Already the flames were beginning to lick at the bottom steps. He crept down and tried to peer through the smoke. Flames roared from his office. A surge of panic clutched his chest. His path out was blocked by the fire. Things were happening too fast. He couldn’t keep his thoughts in order. What should he do?
 

He had to find another way out. He gulped and took a deep breath. He was sweating. His knees were shaking as he wrestled the window open. He leaned out and strained his eyes to make out details in the darkness. Another building stood across the narrow gap of an alley and had a second story balcony. Could he make the jump? A shout echoed from the front of the building, sounding the alarm. Would Gampo be waiting in the shadows for him to run out of the burning structure? If he was willing to burn down a building, the pirate would have no trouble waiting in an alley to sink a blade into his belly. Spurred by this new terrifying possibility, he placed a foot on the sill and heaved himself up until he was crouched in the window opening. Sweat dripped from his upper lip as he eyed the other balcony again.
 

More shouts rang out as nearby residents were awakened by the commotion and the smell of smoke. His breath was only coming in quick short gasps.
 

Either jump or burn.
 

Jump or burn.
 

He jumped.

He crashed into the wrought iron railing with his chest and barely managed to fling his arms over the top before his momentum changed from horizontal to vertical. He gripped two balusters and chanced a glance down. The ground appeared to be about ten feet or so away. His hands were sweating and even now his grip was beginning to fail. He had no choice. He let go, dropped to the ground, and bit back a cry at the stinging pain shooting through his ankle.

The cobblestones were as unyielding as the railing and much filthier. It took him a moment to take account of his condition before he dared move. A sprained ankle and a bruised hip. He rolled over and pushed himself to his feet.
 

Move
.
Get away.

He limped away from the main road and through the back alleys behind the street buildings until he came to the livery stable. The place was dark and vacant, except for a scraggly cat crouched in a corner perusing him with a bored gaze. Horses shuffled in their stalls, but otherwise, the place was quiet. Everett crept inside and climbed a ladder up to the loft. He collapsed on the hay and wept with both relief and terror.

Tomorrow he would take the first vessel out of the Charleston port. He didn’t care where it was going.

The voice echoed grotesquely in her ears as a hot pain flickered across her shoulder. Dry, hot darkness swooped down and surrounded her body. She cried out frantically.
 

Then, a soft baritone murmured in her ear.

“’Tis all right, lass…you are safe now. Hush, Keelan, you’re safe, my sweet.”

The heat suddenly left, replaced by strange coolness. She blindly groped for it in the darkness. Long, gentle fingers grasped her hand. A soft kiss fluttered like a butterfly against her palm. Strong arms cradled her head and shoulders. Soft hands stroked her hair. She floated into the comforting arms of Morpheus and dreamed no more.

Keelan stirred, moaning softly. She rested on her stomach. The first attempt to open her lids brought forth a blinding light, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut again. She brought her hand up as a shield and tried to open them once more. A blurry figure rose and moved to the window to pull the shutters closed.
 

Much better. She tried to focus on the form. “Daniel?” she mumbled, unsure.
 

“Nay, Keelan, it’s me.”

The voice was familiar, but her brain was still too fuzzy to be reliable. She was on a straw pallet covered by a thick fabric. A soft quilt was drawn up to her shoulders. The bloodstained boy’s shirt was gone and in its place was a long linen one.
 

The figure dragged a squat, wooden stool to her bedside then sat. It creaked as he leaned closer.
 

Landon.
 

He was alive. Thank God.

He reached over and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “You’re in a boarding room above a tavern called the ‘Whistling Pig’. How do you feel?”
 

Her brain behaved as if it were coated with mud. Brief flashes of memory flickered in and out, as she fought to remember the events which brought her here. She struggled to sit up straighter. Bright bolts of fire shot across her shoulders. She sucked in her breath and eased back down to the pallet. The sting forced her memory to return quicker.
 

 
“How did you find me?”

“I didn’t," he said wryly. “Although I tried. My men searched the streets for you until daybreak. We even kept watch over your uncle’s house but never caught sight of you. It was Daniel who came here and found
me
.”

He clasped his hands in front of him. A chair sat near the door, Daniel’s sack resting against the front legs.

“Where is he now?” she asked.

“I sent him down to get some supper. I thought you might be hungry when you awoke.”

As if it heard, her belly let out a loud growl. She gently rolled to her side, facing him. The heat of a blush traveled up her neck and over her cheeks at the sight of his bare chest. Apparently it was a state he found himself in quite often, because his skin had become a dark bronze from the rays of the sun. His ebony hair was loose around his shoulders and framed his head like a great black mane. A strip of linen was wrapped around his ribs. Dried blood stained a six-inch patch on his side. His stomach was flat and firm and the tan breeches he wore seemed to fit his body like a second skin.
 

Keelan snapped her eyes shut. After a second, she glanced furtively at his face and he met her gaze with an amused stare.
 

The fire in her cheeks was almost more humiliating than getting caught staring. A dark blue waistcoat hung on a hook near the door.

“Are you too warm, Captain Hart? Or is it difficult for you to conform to accepted modes of dress after spending so many months at sea?” She stared at the wall beside his head. It was hard, but she found a small crack in the plaster and so she focused on it. Unfortunately, he was still visible.
 

Drat. She should have found a crack further from him.

He grinned wider. “I found a more suitable use for my shirt today, Miss Grey,” he said, imitating her formal address.