Hart's Reward (Pirates & Petticoats #3) (3 page)

A jolt of horror shook her limbs. Next, the front of the ship would rear back up and when it did, the barrels would reverse direction and roll toward the stern. Toward her.
 

Dear God, help me.

She turned and ran. The pitch of the ship had her running up a steep, slippery slope. A half dozen strides away from her goal, the plume of water hit and shook the front part of the ship. For a second the rumble ceased.

But only for a second.

Panic nearly paralyzed her limbs. The barrels began to roll and bounce toward her. She turned back toward Landon. He had leapt down the companion ladder toward her.
 

“Take to my arm!” He reached out to her as his boots hit the main deck. “Hold on!”

With that, he grabbed her and flung her toward the shelter between two canons secured on the right side of the ship as a barrel clipped the farthest gun, and launched into the air, whirling fiercely. Twisting his body, Landon put himself between Keelan and the flying barrel.

It hit them with the force of a raging bull before it crashed to the deck and broke into pieces.
 

Keelan gasped in pain and tried to take a breath. A heavy weight prevented any movement. She was face down on the deck. She craned her neck enough to see Landon’s body. It covered hers. And he wasn’t moving.

“Landon!” she cried his name, but he didn’t move.

A voice pierced the gale. She strained to raise her head until finally, Landon was lifted up and away from her. A sailor dashed up the companion ladder to take the helm with two others. Gus tossed Landon over his shoulder and Ronnie grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her feet.

Together, they battled the pitch and roll of the ship to the captain’s cabin. Gus dropped Landon on his bed then turned to her, his eyes flashing.

“What the hell did ye think ye were doin’ out on that deck? Yer a
lubber
. Ye ain’t got any sailin’ know-how. Ye just ‘bout killed yerself and yer captain, ye witless scamp!”
 

Gus’s fists were clenched and he advanced upon Keelan like a raging ox. If she hadn’t been braced against the cabin wall, she’d have collapsed right there in her boots.

Ronnie stepped between Gus and Keelan. “Twas a greenie mistake, sir.” His eyes shifted between the two. Gus hadn’t been told that Keelan was Landon’s wife. They’d decided to wait until after they left Charleston. In Gus’s eyes, she was a young boy, a novice and a liability.

Gus was as furious as the tempest outside. “Well, if it wasn’t fer this gale, he’d get five lashes from the cat,” he spat, shaking his fist.
 

Ronnie cleared his throat and shifted on his feet. “Mahdi has some knowledge of healing. He can help the ship’s sawbones treat the captain. It’ll keep him outta the way.”

Gus scowled then shrugged before stomping out. “Go git the surgeon. I’m on watch,” he snapped before slamming the door.

Keelan leaned against the cabin wall and squeezed her eyes shut. What had she done? A choked sob escaped her throat and she fell away from Ronnie’s grip and staggered to her husband’s bedside.
 

“Landon!”

His shirt was soaked and stuck to his chest like skin. She placed her ear over his heart and closed her eyes, listening.
 

Dear God, please…let him be alive.

Was that a soft, distant heartbeat?
 

It was.
 

He was alive.
 

She raised up and examined him, checking for bruises, blood and feeling for broken bones. A small trickle of blood flowed from his ear.

“Let’s pull him out of these wet clothes, Miss Keelan,” Ronnie whispered, touching her shoulder. “The doc will want to see all of him.”

A day later, steady rain pummeled the ship, but the wind and rough seas had abated, somewhat. The sun tried to shove its way through the clouds, but the clouds refused it.

The ship’s surgeon examined Landon’s head, touching a large lump on his temple.
 

“It hasn’t changed since last night, a good sign. We’ll just have to wait it out,” he said, packing up the wooden carrier holding his surgeon’s supplies. “That large bruise on his upper back and shoulder may be hiding a broken bone or rib, but it’s the hit on the head to worry about.”
 

“How long until he wakes?” Keelan asked, dreading the answer.
 

“Don’t know.” He shook his head, turning toward the door. “He may not.”

Two days later, Landon still hadn’t moved nor made another sound since he’d been placed on his bed; not when they’d removed his clothes nor when Keelan poured whiskey on the small cut on his temple. Knowing how much whiskey stings an open wound, she’d expected a response of some sort, but Landon didn’t even flinch. Putting her head on his chest, she checked yet again for his heartbeat.
 

It was still there, thank God.
 

If only she hadn’t tried to traverse the deck in the storm. If only she’d stayed below and out of the way, Landon might not have been injured. Why hadn’t she simply turned back?
 

For the thousandth time, she whispered, “Please, Landon, love, wake up.”
 
She pressed another kiss on his forehead.
 

This time, as if he’d heard her, Landon’s eyelids twitched and he let out a low moan.

“Landon?” Keelan tried to keep her voice level and calm, but she couldn’t contain the intertwined notes of relief and concern.

His eyes finally opened and he slowly moved his startling blue gaze to her face. His expression changed from wariness to confusion. He lifted his head and winced.
 

She pressed his shoulders back down. “Go slowly, you’re hurt.”

“Where am I?” He rubbed his forehead.

“You’re in your cabin aboard the
Desire
. You were hit on the head and have been unconscious for two days,” she explained.
 

He attempted to sit up then grimaced, and sunk back to a reclining position. “What happened?”
 

Keelan bit her lip, then answered, “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have come up on deck. We were hit by a loose barrel during the gale. I…I didn’t tie it down correctly. You were struck on the side of the head and back by one of them. Do you remember that?”

“There was a storm?” His hand was over his eyes, as if the light pained him.

He didn’t remember the storm? She spoke in a low tone, “Yes. It’s blown us quite a ways off course, but Gus said we should arrive in Charleston in a day or two, depending on the wind and the current.”
 

Landon glanced at her from under his hand. “What about Captain O’Brien and Captain Ahern? Did they weather the storm fairly? Have their ships been sighted?”

For a moment, Keelan wasn’t sure how to answer. It was impossible for either to be sighted. Both ships were currently bound for Jamaica. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to tell Landon his memory was off. She put her hand on his chest. “You’re a bit disoriented. You were hit hard.”

He brushed her hand away. Hurt by this, she sat back and regarded him. He was not acting…right. Something was wrong. His cool, aloof stare had her heart pounding in her chest and her stomach flipping in trepidation.
 

“Who are
you
?” he finally asked.

“Answer my question, boy.” Landon struggled up to his elbows, then pushed himself up to a sitting position, all the while watching her as if he expected her to stab him in the chest.

How was she supposed to answer that question? As Keelan Hart or as Mahdi? Keelan opened her mouth just as someone knocked.

“Enter.” Landon shifted his gaze from her to the door, and back. It opened and Gus stuck his head in and grinned.

“Captain! Yer awake! Glad I am to see this, I tell ye.” He grinned, then glanced at Keelan. “Mahdi, yer needed in the galley.”

She rose on shaky knees. Her mind kept swirling around a single thought:
 

My husband doesn’t recognize me.

 
Her throat tightened and she swallowed in an attempt to fend off the tears.
 

His attention was on his first mate. “Gus, is all well?” He glanced at Keelan. “I had just inquired to the welfare of Conal and Fynn. The boy said there was a storm…” he paused, his eyes once again wary as he took in Gus’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

Gus stepped inside the cabin, his face strangely blank. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it then closed it again before lifting a quizzical brow at her. She shrugged, unable to reveal herself to Gus. Landon had insisted that her true identity remain within their small group consisting of himself, Daniel and Ronnie. He didn’t want to expose the fact that she was a woman to the rest of the crew until they were well away from Charleston and Gampo’s spies and reward.
 

Gus blinked. “Well…er…”

“Out with it, man.” Landon swung his feet to the floor then groaned bracing his hands against the corner walls of the cabin; his eyes closed briefly. When they opened, he focused once again on Gus.

“Yes. Well…ye knows that ye took a hard clubbin’ to the noggin, right Cap’n?”

Landon shifted his intense blue gaze to Keelan for a moment. “Yes, the boy mentioned that.”

The boy.
That’s all she was to him, a boy.

Gus shifted his weight and before trying another approach. “What’s the last thing ye remember, sir?”

Landon tilted his head, thinking. “Leaving port in Baracoa, to sail for New York.”

Gus nodded, pensive. “Which year was that, sir?”

Landon started. “Which year?” His eyes narrowed. “The year I returned home to Baracoa, to find my wife had died giving birth to another man’s child.
That
year,” he said flatly. “1806. And if you want to know the date, it was the twenty-fifth of May.”

Keelan fisted her shirt and swallowed.
That was over five years ago!

Gus rubbed the back of his neck and expelled a lungful of breath. He turned on his heel and went to a wall cabinet, opened it and skimmed his thick fingers over several journals before pulling one out. He flipped open the front cover, glanced at it, snapped the book shut and handed it to Landon.

“Ye should have a look at this, Cap’n. Maybe it’ll jar loose yer memory,” he said in a gentle tone, stepping away.

Landon gave Gus a puzzled expression. He opened the book and read aloud, “January 1811?” He flipped through the pages. “’Tis indeed my hand, but I don’t remember writing the words.”

He froze, his hand stilled on a page halfway through the book. Brow furrowed, he began to read, “30 May, 1811. It is with a heavy heart that we said farewell to Fynn Ahern today. His injuries from the last encounter with Gampo were too severe. As her new captain, Brendan Ahern has decided to take his father to Baracoa for burial and to arrange repairs for the
Reward
, while Captain O’Brien and I continue ahead to Charleston. It is our decision to keep Captain Ahern’s mysterious appointment with Commodore George Grey while our ships are in dry dock. Once the
Reward
is able to join us, we will continue our route to Philadelphia then on to New York.” Landon’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat.

Keelan’s heart went out to him as grief seeped from his eyes. His fingers went slack and the journal fell to the floor. Dealing with the death of a treasured friend was hard enough the first time. Now, Landon had to relive the anguish of his mentor’s passing again. This burden fell on top of the ragged torment currently raging within him from his wife’s betrayal and death, once years in the past, again recent and raw as if it happened yesterday.

She retrieved the book from the floor and placed it on the bed, unsure how to comfort him. “Lan—um, Captain Hart…”

He raised his head, misery and sorrow saturated his features like water filled a sponge. “You may go,” he said hoarsely, turning his attention to Gus. “You and I have much to discuss.”

Dismissed, Keelan blindly reached for the doorknob. Tears blurred her vision as she slunk from the cabin. She ran below, past the galley and down to the main hold of the ship.
 

The smell of horses and damp wood assailed her nostrils. Tears were streaming down her face freely now. She stumbled to Juliet’s stall, heaved the latch up and fell inside. Munching on a mouthful of hay, the mare turned her head toward Keelan and gave her a soft snort. The foal paused a moment from his nursing, then carried on. She ran her hands over Juliet’s neck and back before patting her silver flank and sinking down to the floor in the far corner of the stall. She hugged her knees to her chest and sobbed.

What had she done? It was her fault the barrels broke loose. If she’d tied them correctly, or at least found someone else who could, Landon would have never been injured. Would his memory return or would she forever be a stranger to him? A thick weight descended into her stomach, taking her future with Landon Hart with it.
 

A whisper of warm breath on her hair interrupted her misery. “Not now; go away, Juliet,” she mumbled, keeping her head buried in her arms. Velvety soft lips nuzzled her ear and she shook her head. “Leave me be.” Another huff and more nuzzling on her neck had her finally opening her eyes.
 

Two black, spidery legs wobbled near her right foot. Keelan raised her head. The soft brown eyes of Juliet’s foal contemplated her with a calm interest.

“Well, hello, young one,” she whispered. “My, but aren’t you a handsome little man? ”

His upper lip twitched and he nudged her forehead.
 

She sighed. “I suppose you’re right. I should return to my duties.”

A light whistling attracted his attention and the foal turned his head toward the stall door. Daniel stepped inside and hung a water bucket on a hook suspended by a chain from the ceiling. He started when he saw her.

“Miss Keelan?” he whispered. “Are you all right?” He stepped over and squatted in front of her, his eyes hooded with concern.