Hart's Passion (Pirates & Petticoats Book 2) (22 page)

His kisses traced a fiery trail down her throat, and she drew a ragged breath. As the air rushed into her lungs, her head sought to clear itself from the passion her heart and body so eagerly sought. She wanted more of this, but what if the end result was more pain? Would he be kissing Annette like this was tonight?
 

This time, she pushed harder against his chest.

“Landon,” she breathed. “Stop!”

He stopped but didn’t release her. His eyes bored into hers, a glowing, smoldering light visible in the deep blue depths.

“Don’t you understand, sweet Keelan?” He traced the line of demarcation between the darkly stained skin of her chest and the creamy white of her breasts. “My allegiance is to you and you alone. Why would I seek another when my only desire is for you?”

Were these silky words simply a means to get her into his bed? How could she possibly believe him when he’d obviously planned on sending her to Philadelphia while sharing this leg of his journey with Annette? Landon danced with Annette Camsby at Doreen’s ball, her hand on his chest, his arm on her waist. He seemed willing enough to endure her touch and affections then. What had changed? Anything? Nothing?
 

She couldn’t afford to be enchanted by his charms and sensual kisses but oh, how she wanted to be. She wanted to beg for it.
 

Although it took every bit of emotional and physical strength she could muster, she managed to push herself away from him.
 

“Keelan, don’t—” he whispered hoarsely.

Disappointment and regret swirled into anger.

“You have succeeded only in convincing me you are no more than a rutting dog,” she said woodenly, squeezing her eyes shut once again. “Now, unhand me at once! And please, don’t do that again. Ever.” Distance. Distance. Distance.

His arms were slow to comply, but eventually he released her and she jerked away from his heat and penetrating gaze. She focused on repairing her appearance best she could, given the condition of her sodden garments. The wet linen strips which served to both protect her wounds and bind her breasts were useless; they’d dropped around her waist in their soggy state. She groaned in frustration as the bindings ignored her fingers’ demands.

“Perhaps I can lend some assistance,” Landon offered from behind her. His voice was quiet. Was that disappointment in his voice? His ruse didn’t work, and she had discovered his scheme.

Keelan shook her head as she glanced over her shoulder and fought to keep her voice from trembling. “I doubt any assistance you offer will benefit me in any way.”

He had donned his breeches and was rummaging through the lower drawer of the tallboy. “I might surprise you.” He removed a long knife, a folded piece of soft doeskin and a long leather lace. “Although I would prefer otherwise, under these circumstances, I am forced to aid you in your quest to hide that soft feminine form of yours, which I have come to crave so deeply.”

He placed the soft leather on the floor and then proceeded to carve several holes along the short sides of the rectangular hide. The muscles in his shoulders and back rippled with his movements and she hated herself for admiring them.

“My original intent was to have this made into a pair of gloves. However, I believe it now must serve a greater calling," he said, sensual lips curving into the slightest smile.
 

He moved to stand before her, holding the short sides of the doeskin in his fingers.
 

She eyed him warily. “A corset? I fail to understand how wearing
that
will benefit my disguise," she questioned, lifting a skeptical brow.

“It is not intended for that purpose, love,” he replied, an amused glint in his eyes. “Remove your shirt.”

“I will
not
!” she gasped, horrified. She’d been proud of herself for fighting off Landon Hart and his mesmerizing lure. Granted, it took her a few moments, but now that she’d managed to push him far enough away, she didn’t dare jeopardize her position. She was weak,
too
weak to test her resolve so soon.

“This will cover you better over the bandage," he explained patiently but firmly. “Now, trust me and do as I say.”

“I don’t need your help. I can do it myself.” The pitch of panic in her own voice made her clamp a hand over her own mouth.
 

“Keelan,” a quiet note of exasperation permeated his tone. “I intend for this to be laced over your breasts to disguise them better.” He held up the leather and cord. “One of us must hold it together while the other threads the tie. Now, please, remove the shirt.”

Realizing there was little she could do to dissuade him from his mission, she presented her back and shrugged out of the shirt which had once been his.
 

Despite the dark stain applied, Keelan was positive her skin still reddened at what she was about to do.

Landon’s gut churned and his flayed pride smarted at Keelan’s words.
 

A rutting dog?

He’d bared his soul! He’d told her about the sacrifice he’d made by sending his ship ahead to Harbour Town instead of Philadelphia. Up north, he would have delivered the rice and indigo for a delicious profit. Harbour Town had no need for such cargo. They had their own rice plantations and indigo mills.
 

He’d even
told
her he desired only her, not Annette.
 

She didn’t believe him.

How could she not believe him? He’d never lied to her before, had he?

Snatching his shirt from his chair, he clenched his teeth together to prevent any ill-timed words from falling out of the mouth that still ached to kiss her again.
 

Her kiss had been tender and full of longing. He could sense it. The heat from her body ignited a fire within his. They’d experienced a rush of passion
together
. Somewhere deep in the delicate recesses of his soul, a sensation stirred in a withered hollow he believed had been destroyed long ago. Loving a woman had only brought on pain and humiliation. It had made him weak. He’d squelched it. Never again.

But…he not only wanted her, desired her…he
needed
her. He needed her by his side. A tiny thought wheedled its way into his mind like the itch of a bug bite.

She didn’t trust him. At all.

Trust between them was crucial now, if they were going to be together. He had to be able to trust her to keep his secrets. If they were ever exposed, his life, along with many others would be placed in jeopardy. How was he supposed to trust her in confidence when she obviously didn’t have faith in him?

Keelan took off the shirt, her movements jerky, like a wary doe. She’d put a barrier between them, more fragile than thin china. She feared he would shatter it.
 

He could. Easily.
 

But…what would that accomplish? What could he do to gain Keelan Grey’s elusive trust? This was a new problem he’d never had to deal with before. His crew trusted him with their lives and their welfare. Not once had he ever been required to prove his worth or honor. To anyone. If anything, she should have to convince him
she
could be trusted.

The shirt dropped to the floor and his chest tightened as he stared at the angry slashes along her delicate back and shoulders. He’d spent days seeking an informant who’d reveal Keelan’s kidnapper. He’d found nothing. Even the few men captured at the warehouse didn’t know the true identity of Gampo’s employer. The man was nothing more than a shadow. Landon would have liked justice to be done upon the bastard, but he couldn’t find him, dammit. And Gampo has escaped. Again.

Keelan adjusted the bandages then crossed her arms over her breasts and peered timidly over her shoulder.
 

He placed the soft doeskin against her back, and then reached the ends around her chest, pausing as his knuckles gently grazed her erect nipples. She tensed and sucked in her breath,

Ah, then. She might not trust him, but she desired his touch none the less. He could work with that.

“Would you care to hold the ends, my love?”

Keelan roughly snatched the ends of the leather corset from his hands, and pulled them tightly against the center of her chest, determined to repel his charm. He peered around her shoulder. Smiling almost lewdly, he dangled the long lace before her eyes. “Would you have me apply the ties, or perhaps hold the leather, so you can string the ties?”

The cause for his amusement was quite clear. If he held the ends, she would have to trust him to keep them snug over her chest. She’d just as soon let a fox in to the chickens’ roost. If she permitted him to string the lace, she’d have to endure the touch of his fingertips as he threaded it through the holes. As humiliating as the second choice was, it was definitely the lesser of the two evils. Hopefully.

“Proceed with the lace, Captain.” She narrowed her eyes and added sternly, “But try to be a gentleman about it.”

He gave her a gallant bow. “I am here to serve, my dearest.”

“I ponder your comprehension of the term," she replied dryly.

Landon indeed took his leisure in threading the lace through the holes in the hide; one by one, despite the glowering looks she threw his way. He threaded each eyelet with extreme care and slow deliberate movements.
 

When the task was complete, she snatched the laces from his fingers and angrily tightened them.
 

“Scoundrel.”
 

He gave her a lopsided grin as he allowed his gaze to roam at will. “I take pride in the fact I complete all my tasks with perfection.”

“Bah!” She bent down to retrieve her shirt from the floor, missing the admiring attention he gave to her slender hips and backside.

“What am I to do with you, sweet?” Landon inquired softly.

She gave a sarcastic laugh as she buttoned the shirt. “Leave me alone. You have enough…distractions as it is.”

“Ahhh but my love, that…is impossible. It’s imperative for you continue in your guise as ‘young Mahdi’ to keep you safe,” he mused. He took in every detail of her appearance, from the snug fit of her breeches to the green fire of her eyes. “But I cannot allow you to hang your hammock in the hold with the crew at night. Too risky. You’ll have to sleep here.”
 

She stared at him, aghast. Was he mad? “I will not!”

“You must," he stated firmly. “Keelan, you can’t keep a hammock in the hold with the crew. You’re bound to be discovered. It will only be a matter of time before one of the men joins you in the head, or surprises you at a most inopportune moment. At least here, you’ll have privacy.”

She bit her lip. In truth, her thoughts had traveled the same path earlier. Sharing sleeping quarters with Landon Hart, however, would be disastrous. “I will not play the whore to your lusts,” she said angrily. “Instead, I shall leave that duty to Annette Camsby.”

Landon stared at her a moment, the tiniest hint of a smile playing about his mouth. Then he shook his head. “I will harbor no arguments, Keelan.” Landon said sternly. “With Garrison aboard, your safety depends on your identity remaining secret for a while longer.”

He knew. She fixed an accusing glare on him. “You knew he was aboard this ship?”

Landon shrugged casually. “Had I known
you
were here, I would never have allowed him aboard. This was an opportunity for me to watch him. I have my suspicions about Garrison, and I had intended to test them.”

Doubt tugged at her mind. She wanted to believe him and trust him, but she was torn. He wanted her in his bed. He used concern as a ploy to weaken her guard. There had been no mention of marriage vows to accompany all which he desired of her. Bastard or no, she would not play the part of a doxy for him. Or anyone, but especially not him.
 

Who did she think she was fooling? One touch from Landon Hart would melt whatever wall she managed to construct between them.

Keelan clenched her jaw in firmer resolve. She would not allow his handsome features and beguiling charm to sap her resistance.
 

She would not.

Landon reached for his shirt and shrugged it on. “You’d best get back to the galley. Marcel will wonder what has become of you.” He grinned. “No doubt, he’ll think I saw fit to see to your bath, as well as my own.” Landon’s eyes sparkled with laughter. “He’ll never realize how truthful that assumption would be.”
 

That man! Keelan snatched up the buckets and stomped out. Landon Hart was not going to make this easy.
 

Well, he was about to find out she was stronger than she looked.
 

I know where she is. Meet me in the aft hold.
Now.

Everett studied the scribbled note. Something seemed off. Maybe it was the tattered piece of handbill the message was written upon. Maybe it was because not many people knew he was aboard.

He raised his voice as loudly as he dared, “Who gave this to you?”

The man shrugged. “Someone came up behind me and whispered into my ear. Told me not to turn around. Put the paper and a shilling in my hand and then told me to give it to the tallest man on deck. That be you.” He moved on before Everett could ask another question.

Sweat beaded along his upper lip. Had one of his contacts found her? Problem was, his fortunes had recently changed, and he was unable to pay the reward he’d promised. Perhaps the man would be desperate enough to negotiate. He pushed off from the rail near the aft deck and sauntered toward the hatch. He swept his gaze around the deck. Annette Camsby stood near the helm beside Captain O'Brien. The plainly dressed woman who’d accompanied her stood near. She glanced his way and gave him a slight smile, which he returned with a quick nod, to indicate all was well.

Keelan approached the helm like a child tasked with cutting her own switch for punishment. Annette was there chirping at Conal O'Brien like a spring bird. Time to tell Conal to return to his cabin so Landon could apprise him of “the situation.”

The situation being…her.