Hart's Passion (Pirates & Petticoats Book 2) (24 page)

She had viewed him as a harmless, clumsy, gawk of a man, who tried her level of tolerance as would a pesky fly. How wrong she had been.

She placed a hand over her heart and tried to will it to slow to a normal rate. How foolish of her to be so blind to his charade. She had been so concerned with her own problems and avoiding a marriage to Pratt, she had missed what was happening beneath her nose. She clutched her hand against her chest, pressing the locket and ring into her skin and reminding her of their presence.
 

Keelan pulled the ribbon, lifting the two items from the crevice between her breasts. She stared at the signet ring, a welcome distraction from the grisly scene below deck.
 

In the rosy, golden light of the setting sun, she gently traced her finger over the crest. Who was the man who’d sired her? Was he a good father to his other children, her half brothers and sisters? She had always prayed for siblings. Would they accept her? Probably not, but she would still wish for it to be so. What other secrets awaited her in the darkness of George Grey’s old trunk?
 

The man in the miniature stared back at her. Whose family’s blood surged through her heart? What features did her true father’s seed give her? The eyes? Her father’s smiling green eyes sparkled at her as if they shared a secret. Her mother’s eyes were gray, so perhaps, yes, the eyes. What of her warm russet tresses? Her mother’s hair was a pale brown, her father’s a shiny black. From whence came the red curls? Perhaps another relative, a grandparent, maybe?
 

She straightened. Pondering her heritage would not reveal her mother’s secret any quicker. The probable presence of another pirate spy aboard made her quest more dangerous. Even so, she would see it through to the end. If her father’s house did not welcome her so be it, but the desire to meet her kin would drive her there, in time.

The ship’s bell sang with a mellow tongue as it marked the end of the last dogwatch. Another shift of seamen would soon rouse from their hammocks and keep watch until the hourglass had been turned four times and the ship’s bell rung eight.

A quiet voice rose above the creaking ship and gentle splash of the sea against the sturdy hull. “You’ve had a rough time over these past few weeks. How do you fare?”
 

Keelan jumped then managed a small smile as Conal stepped forward and leaned his forearms against the rail next to her. His eyes were kind. She relaxed.

“I’m alive. Considering the fate which has fallen on the rest of my family I feel blessed, but I worry about the other pirates amongst us.”

“As the captain is also the ship’s master, I can see justice met for any offense aboard this craft. If we find them, I can have them put in irons and punished.” Conal shifted his position. “Since they’re likely wanted by the law, we’ll deliver them when we make port in Harbour Town and let them meet their fate at the short end of a rope.”

The shoreline had become a distant black line, and the sun began its inevitable descent. Wind snapped the sails and the ship responded with a groan, ropes whining in the sheaves. “I want to express my sympathies on the death of your father,” Conal said quietly.

 
“Thank you. However, the man was not my father," she said hoarsely, fighting back the tears threatening to spill. If Landon hadn’t already told him, he probably would soon. The two were fast friends. At least she’d be able to scrutinize Conal O’Brien’s reaction to the news.

She continued, “Not truly by blood but he raised me as his own. I should have suspected Garrison was poisoning him. If I had paused to ponder the situation, I would have seen the entire puzzle laid out.” Anger welled in her chest. Why hadn’t she seen it?
 

“He fooled everyone.” Conal put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a small comforting squeeze. “You can’t blame yourself.”

Her throat constricted. Keelan shrugged her silent thanks, and wiped her nose on her sleeve.
 

Conal chuckled. “You’re becoming used to playing the boy, Mahdi.”

Realizing what she had just done was far from ladylike, Keelan gave Conal a chagrined smile. “So it would seem.”

“Ye said something that confused me. And I beg yer pardon if it offends ye in any way…Ye said Commodore Grey was
not
yer sire?” Conal left the question hanging.

A solitary tear broke free and began a lonely trail down her cheek. “On his deathbed, Papa told me he could not give my mother a child, so she went to another man…One who could…who could give her…” Her voice broke and she paused for a moment to gather herself.
 

Stop being silly. Crying about it won’t change anything. She should be happier. Now, she had the opportunity to choose her own path, which provided a bit more comfort.

After wiping her eyes, she showed him the locket, dangling on the ribbon with the ring. “My mother took a lover who sired me. And years ago, he looked like this.”
 

Conal bent low and studied the miniature.
 

A young man. Dark hair. Green eyes.
 

Conal’s eyes widened with shock then hardened with fury.

“Where did you get this!” he demanded, snatched the locket from her fingers. He stared at it, then his gaze followed the red ribbon to the ring dangling at the end.

She stepped back. Why would he react so swiftly and with such indignation? Keelan eyed him curiously. “Papa gave it to me. He said my mother cherished it.” She studied Conal. His jaw was clenching and unclenching sporadically. “Why does it disturb you? Do you know him?”

Conal stepped close and looked hard at Keelan.

“Yes, I know him," he said.
 

Her mouth dropped open. Could it really be this easy to find the identity of her sire?

Conal stared at the locket, then shoved it back to her. “And now, I think I understand the purpose of Uncle Fynn’s meeting with Commodore Grey. He must have suspected this.”
 

Of course. She met Landon and Conal when they visited Twin Pines to speak with Papa. Keelan’s mind swirled with questions. “Who was your Uncle Fynn?”

Conal’s jaw tightened. “My mother’s brother.” He jabbed a finger at the miniature. “I have seen that portrait before, as well.”

“You…you have actually seen this same portrait?” She stared at the miniature. “In God’s name—where?”

“It hangs on the parlor wall in my parent’s home, next to my mother’s,” he stated flatly.

At her curious stare, Conal inhaled and then continued.

“That man is my father.”

Conal braced his hands wide along the rail and leaned forward, letting his head drop. “Uncle Fynn must have suspected you were sired by my father. It was probably why he wanted to meet with Commodore Grey…to confirm it.” He gave Keelan a sideways glance. “The Commodore told us he didn’t know Fynn, but thinking back on it, neither Landon nor I felt he was being entirely…forthright.”

Keelan wasn’t sure what to say. While she was euphoric because the search for her father was completed so quickly, Conal had to deal with his obvious anger toward the man as well as his desire to protect his mother.
 

“If ye hadn’t had the ring, I wouldna of believed ye. My da has always worshipped my mum. I canna believe he…” He looked away and stared at the sea flowing quickly past the hull. Bursts of spume sprayed in their wake.

It was easy to understand the turmoil of emotions swirling in Conal’s gut. The same ones had assaulted her the night Papa died. Keelan untied the ribbon around her neck and removed the ring. She held it out to him. “This belongs to you, then. It is your family’s signet ring, your crest.”
 

Conal opened his hand and she placed it on his palm. He held it up in the fading light and studied it a moment. “The four lions represent deathless courage in battle by four brothers. The wheat is a symbol of plenty. We are a clan descended of sea warriors, you see.” He gave her a small smile. “And more recently, sea merchants.” He slipped the ring on his finger. “Thank you for returning it.”

“May I keep the miniature?” Papa said her mother treasured it because her father gifted it to her. It was the one thing she had which connected both her parents.
 

Conal nodded, his nostrils flaring. “My mother has one of her own, more recently painted.” He dropped his head again. “I’m sorry. I shouldna have spoken to ye that way.”

“Don’t apologize.” She wanted to comfort him, but wasn’t sure he’d welcome her pity. She touched his shoulder with her fingertips. “I understand how you feel. It’s been difficult for me to…digest…all this information as well. My life is suddenly not what I thought it was.”

Conal swallowed and lifted his head to check the sails. “Tis no fault of yours. It shouldn’t be held against ye.”
 

She looked out over the ocean at the sun, burning red near the horizon, uncertain how to ask the question burning equally hot on her tongue. There was no easy way to ask it. Perhaps she should simply blurt it out.

“Why would your Uncle Fynn need to confirm my existence with Papa—Commodore Grey? I can’t think of a reason why such information would be important to him.”
 

Conal shrugged. “Fynn was never one to comply with popular opinion. He followed his own compass. There were many times I challenged his reasoning, but he always had a firm plan and in the end, it usually worked his way.” He glanced at her through long, auburn lashes. “He and my father were tight as kin, although he was my mother’s brother. I want to believe his interest in the commodore wouldn’t cause my mum pain in any way.” Conal pushed away from the rail. “There’s no telling now. He took his reasoning to the grave with him.” Conal bid her a good evening and excused himself.
 

The cow lowed forlornly from her pen. A nanny goat bleated a sympathetic response.
 

Keelan stood alone, still in shock.
 

The ocean waves broke against the ship’s stern, the sails clapped and inhaled the breath from the wind. The sun had descended closer to the horizon, as if fleeing the thick clouds chasing it.

Her mind swirled with the rush of recent events.
 

Everett. Murderer.
Monster
.

Conal. Captain. Friend.
Half brother?

Her father…his father? How? What wicked, twisted trick of fate was this? How could the world be so small?

How could it be so cruel?
 

Her musings were interrupted by the dogwatch’s cry.

“Sail, ho’!”

“Where away?” Conal’s voice boomed a short distance away.

“Near two points off the starboard bow, sir!” came the reply.

Conal strode across the deck. “Johnny, Take the glass and go aloft. Try to make out what she is.”

A few moments later, an impatient Conal yelled up to Johnny. “What do you see, man?”

“Aye sir, ’tis a schooner with dark sails…looks like the the
Dragon
!”

Conal’s voice barked through the evening mist. “Call all hands and make sail for her!”

A sudden flurry of motion arose from the deck.

“Mahdi!”

She jumped and shifted her gaze from the man clinging to the ropes at the top of the mainmast to the voice harkening her. Conal’s piercing green gaze captured her own. Eyes like hers.

Tussled, russet locks curled against his forehead lifted by the wind. Russet locks like hers.

“Find Hart!”

She scampered below the deck. As Keelan neared the galley, low voices made her pause. Daniel and Landon. She couldn’t make out what they were saying. As she was about to creep closer to listen, Landon strode past the door in the direction of his cabin and then paused at the sight of Keelan standing near the steps.

“What is it?” His face softened.

“A…a sh-ship,” she stammered. “A ship has been sighted…”

Without a word, he flicked his hand, motioning her up to the deck before him. She wordlessly complied. His mouth had tightened at the news. Were they in trouble?

Landon admired Keelan’s pleasantly curved backside as he followed her up the narrow steps. At this angle, he would have to be a fool or a blind man to not notice the womanly shape in front of him. He scowled and made a mental note to find her a longer jerkin to wear.

Landon’s new concern was keeping Keelan’s identity secret until Orvis Pike’s cohort was revealed, removed from the ship and placed in the custody of Harbour Town’s sheriff.
 

He mentally ran through the new faces he’d seen on the
Seeker’s
decks. Orvis had done a good job staying out of sight; otherwise, Keelan would have recognized him long before the confrontation in the hold. Everyone must remain watchful.

He refocused his attention to the issue at hand and cursed. He’d hoped by sending the
Desire
southward early, Gampo would follow, taking him and his thirst for revenge further away from Keelan. A nervous twinge shot through Landon’s stomach. Keelan was supposed to be journeying north, away from danger, not south toward it. The sighting of another ship made him anxious, but he’d wait until he had a chance to view it through the glass before he’d worry about Keelan’s safety.

As long as it wasn’t a schooner with dark sails, they’d be fine.

“It’s a schooner with darkened sails,” Conal said. “Although they fly no flag, I’d bet it’s the
Dragon
.”

Keelan caught her breath and gripped the rail until her knuckles stretched thin and white. Gampo! Why did he come after the
Seeker
? Did Orvis or the other pirates find a way to signal them? Her heart stuttered. Or had Gampo known all along she’d been aboard?

“Aye, it looks to be her,” Landon responded, his mouth set in a grim line before snapping the glass shut. “We’re heavy with cargo. However, they approach leeward, probably returning from following the
Desire
to Harbour Town. They must have discovered Keelan wasn’t on her. We make the port in less than a day. I suggest we start with half the water barrels since we can replace them quickly, and then lose the rations.”