Hart's Passion (Pirates & Petticoats Book 2) (33 page)

Landon’s eyes widened and traveled from Keelan’s face down to her bare breasts, then over her boy’s breeches and boots then back up again.
 

“What in God’s name….” He clenched his jaw and in two strides closed the space between them. His movement finally broke her temporary paralysis and she lunged for her shirt still draped over their bed. His bed now, since he had no memory of ever sharing it with her.

He reached her before she could take a second step, grabbed her arm and pushed her against the wall of the cabin. His crystalline irises flashed in anger. “Who the hell are you?” His gaze raked once more past her stained face, neck and chest to her creamy white breasts, tight, rosy pink nipples and pale stomach.

“And no more lies,” he growled.

If he expected her to shrink in fear, he was going to be disappointed. Keelan lifted her chin and glared back at him as best as she could, considering the top of her head barely reached his jaw. No more tiptoeing around the truth, then.
 

“I am Keelan O’Brien Hart. Your
wife
.”

Pirate Heiress
 

A destitute family poses as a band of pirates and kidnaps a merchant captain to help them find a treasure hidden by their great-great grandparents, Calico Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny…
 

CHAPTER ONE

Letter from Anne Bonny to her father William Cormac:

3 March, 1718

Dear Father,

I bid you farewell. I know you disapprove of my choice for a husband. True, he is but a simple sailor. However, I refuse to marry any of those milksops or fortune hunters who continue to darken our door. I love James Bonny and he has sworn his life to me. I have taken my leave and ask nothing more from you than your prayers for my health and well-being.

Your daughter,

Anne
 

July 1811

What the hell, his sister was about to marry his best friend this evening, so he could deal with a cold bath.
 

Conal dragged out the copper tub from the pantry closet and poured in several buckets of tepid water. He’d found a piece of lye soap, so at least now, the bath would be well worth the effort.

The galley stove had been allowed to wane to the lowest of coals, and he, Conal O’Brien, the captain of this vessel, had neither the time nor inclination, (or rather patience) to heat the water for his bath.

Better to just duck the head down and get it over with, like pulling out a tooth or a wooden splinter, cold water plunges are best if done quickly.

As he expected, the water was brisk, the soap elusive, the suds painful to his eyes and the whole notion of soaking in a cold tub remained annoying, to say the least. Yet, as always, Conal’s stubborn tendency to fight being bested by anything, including the temperature of his bath, won out in the end. He had to hold his breath longer than he’d have liked, but there were areas that had needed extra attention, thanks to Gampo and his damned crew of pirates.

If he were to be honest with himself, it really wasn’t entirely the attack by Gampo that had spurred the extra scrubbing, although his coat had been torn and his breeches stained with grime from helping a mate adjust a ship’s gun; it was the thought of his mother’s look of disappointment that had made it necessary to repair his appearance before attending his sister’s wedding.

Although they weren’t here, both his parents would expect him to see his sister married properly while representing the O’Brien family proudly.
 

He scrubbed a little harder.
 

If anyone had asked him a few months ago if his best friend would marry again, he’d have laughed.
 

Women were too hard a concept to understand, for one. They were weak, silly, helpless and emotional, making them more of a burden than anything else. Aside from the women in his family, women in general weren’t to be trusted, at least not the women he usually ran across when anchored at port. Suffice it to say that the less he trusted women, the better off he was.

No, the notion of marriage didn’t appeal to Conal in the least, unless…he thought for a moment. If he found a woman more like his sister, he might consider it. She was as good or better with a blade than any man on his ship. She was quick-minded independent. He’d never met another woman, save his aunt, who belonged on the deck of a ship more.

His cousin, Brendan’s ship was docked at the pier but the
Seeker
had to drop anchor further out in the harbor due to a thick cloud of fog that obscured everything beyond a couple hundred paces. He’d had to row a canoe back to his ship to bathe and change. Brendan was probably already back at the tavern and looking like the handsome devil he was, boots polished and collar starched.

He would be damned if his cousin would find fault in his appearance this day. Brendan always seemed to find a loose chain in his armor, where appearances were concerned.
 

But not today.
 

He’d already trimmed his beard and polished his boots to a glowing shine. Even now, his boots reflected the low glow of the lantern swinging overhead in time with the active motion of the water.
 

He leaned over and grabbed for the linen cloth draped over the edge of the tub. After wiping his face, he braced his hands on the rim and pushed himself to his feet.
 

When he raised his head, his nose nearly clipped the barrel of a pistol. A faint acrid smell of gun powder assailed his nostrils.

Eyes focused on the cold, grey metal, he was careful to avoid any sudden movement. He raised his gaze to peruse the person holding the weapon, a brigand wearing a wide-brimmed hat pulled low. Beneath the hat a brightly colored scarf covered whatever color hair he had. Behind the gun barer was a second figure, armed as well.

“You have my attention,” Conal said evenly. The one holding the pistol stood between him and the lantern, but from what he could see, he was tall but slight in build. If it weren’t for the pistols, he wouldn’t have hesitated to lunge for both of them. The man must have been thinking along a similar line of thought, because the pistol shook slightly.

“This ship has been taken,” the figure said softly. “If you value your life, and the lives of the crew that remain, you will comply with our demands.”

Conal’s stomach twisted in his gut. How did he miss the sound of battle aboard? Granted, all but the watch and a handful of men still making repairs to the damaged sails and yard arms had been allowed to go ashore to attend the wedding celebration, but he should have heard a shout or a pistol shot even down here in the galley. How many of his men had lost their lives?
 

He cursed under his breath. “Demands?” Conal tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. The voice sounded too…soft. A woman, perhaps?

Stevie swallowed and gripped the pistol handle more firmly. Her arm was beginning to tire from holding it for so long, but she didn’t dare lower it. The massive mountain of a man in the tub looked as if he could crush her head like a grape with one hand and her younger brother’s with the other one. More often than not, she could look an average man straight in the eye, however with this man, her head would probably barely reach his nose.

He cocked his head, still awaiting her answer. His eyes narrowed before sliding down to her soft doeskin boots and back up again. She should have stayed more in the shadows; she would have been a bit more intimidating that way.

“Stevie,” Remi whispered from behind her, bringing her thoughts back in line. What was the question? Oh, yes. Demands.

“You’ll relinquish the ship and all its cargo,” she said, barely able to keep the tremor from her voice. Her gaze paused at the gold ring on his finger. If they were going to become pirates, she might as well start acting like one. She took a deep breath and drew her shoulders back a little.

“Let’s start with your ring,” she said, holding out her hand. The man’s jaw clenched and the knuckles gripping the tub’s edge whitened. What thoughts might be flying around in his head? He was contemplating his chances of overpowering her and taking her pistol, she could see that in the way his gaze shifted back and forth between her younger brother, Remi, and her. If he hadn’t been unarmed and if it had been a one on one situation, instead of one against two (with guns), he wouldn’t have paused to contemplate it this long. He would have lunged.

She eased a step back, careful to keep her pistol well within a lethal range. “Please don’t try it,” she said. “I’d prefer to save my shot.”

His eyes widened and his brows raised in surprise. She’d been right in her assumptions, then. She usually was. Her intuition annoyed her brothers no small amount and they always avoided her when they wished their thoughts to remain…theirs. Only one of them could hide from her, but he was a gambler so it was expected, otherwise he wouldn’t be a very good gambler, would he?

The man twisted the ring from his finger and tossed it to her. She placed it on the only finger it would fit—her thumb.
 

Keeping her focus on their hostage, she moved behind him to the stack of clothes on the galley table and removed the dagger and pistol next to them. She’d have to keep a close watch on him; he looked like the type of man who’d rather fight against the odds than give himself over. They needed to get him up on deck with her other brothers before she fainted from this whole episode. Before they boarded the ship, Uncle Bernard had given her a brief lesson on managing a pistol, but it still terrified her to hold it.

“Get dressed,” she said, with as much authority as she could muster.

He stood and reached for the linen rag. Stevie felt her eyes widen. She was wrong. Very wrong. The top of her head would barely reach his chin, let alone his nose. Wide, thick shoulders took up most of the room in the galley. His muscles rippled as he moved. A long scar trailed from the top of his shoulder to the middle of his ribcage. A fighting man.

She should shut her eyes, avert her gaze, something…but to do so would be foolish right now. She’d never seen a naked man as perfectly proportioned as this one. To be honest, she’d only seen one other naked man before (other than her terribly immodest brothers while growing up).

Remi’s mortified expression from the doorway, prompted her to rolled her eyes and give him a pointed look that he interpreted perfectly. She’d changed Remi’s diapers when she was eight. She’d lost her virginity after falling foolishly in love with a gambler who’d promised her a life of travel and luxury. Two days later, after losing everything he had as well as several hundred dollars in credits to the house, he disappeared and never returned. Lesson learned. Men will tell a woman anything to sway her affections to the bedroom.
 

Their captive turned toward her and reached for his clothes. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and she could barely swallow. He had a chiseled chest with a faint layer of fine, light brown hair that darkened to a burnished auburn as it trailed past his navel to his…his…

He was well-proportioned, indeed.

When she turned her attention back to his face his expression was rather mocking. “Satisfied, little rabbit?” he asked.

So, he’d already guessed she was a woman in men’s clothing. She assumed he was talking about her perusal, which she wasn’t about to address. No need to give him a burst of confidence right now. Her mouth was still dry. Instead, she asked a question. “Little rabbit?” She looked nothing at all like a rabbit. Her ears, along with her hair were covered.

“You look as if you’re ready to jump out of your skin. Perhaps you’re afraid of me?” He leaned toward her.

Yes.
 

“No.” She barely managed a response without tripping over her tongue. Her attempt at laughter was pathetic, at best.
 

“Well, little rabbit, you should be.” He jerked on his clothes. A pair of shiny, cordovan boots stood next to the tub and he pulled them on while he muttering obscenities about someone named Brendan. That task complete, he stood up straight, crossed his arms over his very impressive chest and glowered at her. His eyes were a grey-green with a golden band around the pupil, reminding her of a tiger she’d once seen in a traveling show. She’d swallow, but she was paralyzed. Is this how a tiger’s prey felt just before it became dinner?

So, he’d already figured out she was female. Now, he was studying her, calculating the odds on a successful confrontation. If he charged her right now, she’d probably squeal and tumble into a terrified heap on the floor. She pulled the hammer of her pistol back until it clicked to help him with his decision making process, and hopefully fortify hers. Still, terror gripped her heart, forcing it to pulse and throb in uneven beats. Until a short time ago, she ran the kitchens in her family’s hotel and gaming house. Pirating was not on her short list of talents. In fact, she was rather pleased that she’d pulled back the hammer without accidentally discharging the gun.
 

“Remi,” she called to her cousin over her shoulder, cursing at the way her voice trembled. “If he makes a move toward either of us, shoot him.” Remi’s hammer clicked back. Good. Gesturing toward the door with the gun, she gestured for her prisoner to go topside.
 

Almost soundlessly, he moved in long, sinuous strides through the passageway and up the ladder. He smelled of soap, new leather boots and a musky scent that she knew was all him.
 
The vision of that tiger from long ago crept into her thoughts as she eyed his movements.
 

Her thoughts jumped to her family up on the main deck. They’d sent her to the galley to see what kind of stores the ship had. No one expected that she’d find a man down here, which was a stupid assumption, apparently.

They’d spied on the ship for a couple hours; their chance came when most of the crew departed for shore. The rest stayed topside. Her uncle thought the men were probably told to keep watch, but perhaps assuming the dense fog would make them too tough to find, they proceeded to gather around an upturned crate near the mizzen mast and play cards, enabling Stevie and the rest of the band to surround them.