Hart's Reward (Pirates & Petticoats #3) (8 page)

Keelan sighed and raised the spyglass to her eye. So far…nothing. How many hours had it been? Three? Four?

There! A lone pelican caught her attention. It hovered above the waves for a few seconds and then plunged into the water. Is that the sign Landon wanted? She hopped off her barrel and headed toward the helm.

The soft breath of the sea breeze gently caressed Keelan’s cheek as it loosened a defiant curl from the ribbon tied at her nape. She absentmindedly slipped it behind her ear while she waited in silence with the rest of the crew. Beyond the natural sounds of the sea and the creaking and groaning of the
Desire
, a thick stillness coated the deck. The long boat had already been hoisted and re-stowed on the ship’s deck, in anticipation of the arrival of the wind, the signs of which Keelan had alerted Landon a short while ago. Every crew member stood at the ready, awaiting orders from Captain Hart.
 

They did not have long to wait. A sudden gust hit the ship, snapping the loosened canvas like a whip. At Landon’s sharp bark, the men sprang into action. Keelan gripped the pail of salt water. With a sudden lurch, the ship tipped toward the ocean as the men below deck rolled the guns hard to port.

“Drop canvas!”

Sails were quickly lowered to the deck surface and there was a jump to action as sailors tossed buckets of sea water on the sheets to re-soak the threads. When the dampened sails were re-hoisted, they would capture as much wind as possible.
 

The
Desire
jerked and rocked and Keelan refilled her bucket and doused the sails on the deck. The
Glory
suddenly leaned leeward, as if a violent gust had hit her sails.
 

The men whooped. Landon chuckled at her side. “It would seem the savvy Commodore Hall has chosen to join our game and play along.”

A moment later, the
Glory
hastily lowered her sails, again imitating the
Desire’s
actions. Everyone turned their attention to the British flotilla. Sails fell in a panicked fashion, as the crew scurried to avoid the deadly gust that had apparently caught the American ships unaware.

Landon waited until the British fleet had dropped their sails.

“Now, men!” Landon shouted, ordering his courses and topsails set. “Haul all sheets to the wind! Crowd that canvas best ye can and set her loose to run free!”

Arms pumped on the lines to hoist every sail as quickly as possible. Within minutes, the
Desire
spread her wings and flew over the swells and out to sea, speeding away from the British warships.
 

Keelan’s heart pounded furiously in her chest. It worked! Captain Hall’s ship surged forward, opening the distance to the opposing frigates before they could comprehend what the American ships had done. The
Glory
even paused long enough to retrieve her long boat from the kedging.
 

The British, however, were not as concerned for their sailors’ welfare. Rather, their long boats were cut loose and abandoned while the frigates frantically worked to hoist all available sails and quickly repair those that had been hastily cut free in a panic. Keelan laughed with glee as the
Glory
continued to increase the distance between herself and her British enemies. She turned to see Landon watching her and in her enthusiasm, smiled at him. He smiled back.

“Yer plan worked, Captain!” Gus shouted from amidships deck. “The
Glory
, she’s flying! Those British bastards won’t catch her now!”

“Aye!” Landon agreed. “A fine plan, well executed.” He tossed out a few more commands and sails were shifted and the
Desire
turned back up the coast. He joined Gus amidships.
 

“Commodore Hall has helped us out many times in the past. I am honored to be in a position to reciprocate,” Landon said. He glanced her way and she caught a fleeting look of confusion. “It’s time to turn our sights northeast.”
 

An idea began to form in her mind, and she went below to seek out Daniel.

After conferring with his helmsman over the course set to Charleston, Landon turned his attention to the midships deck where Daniel and Keelan, as Kahlil and Mahdi, were about to begin a training duel. Both had their heads covered with large pieces of cloth; Daniel’s a weathered white, Keelan’s a faded blue, every bit the Persians they disguised themselves to be. The crew raced up the ratlines and yard arms to give the two both necessary space as well as give themselves a better vantage point.

Daniel had found some old planks and had created a target area, which he propped against the mizzen mast. To the target he tacked a variety of items: a rag, a chicken feather, a strip of cloth about two feet long and two inches wide which fluttered in the breeze.

 
“The object of this game is to hit each of the targets on the board,” Daniel said. “In order to toss your dagger, you must maneuver well enough away from me to make an accurate throw. You must return to the bucket before you can throw again.” Daniel placed the bucket approximately fifteen feet away from the target.

“That’s it?” Keelan nearly smirked.

 
Landon leaned back against the railing and crossed his arms over his chest. This should be interesting. Although he’d observed her in a lighthearted competition with Ronan earlier, he doubted a little thing like her would last long against the power of a man’s arm. Although, he had to admit, something had nagged his memory that day when she spared with Ronan, but he couldn’t pin down exactly what it was.

Daniel tilted his head sideways and shot Keelan a smug look that should have made her wary. “As I mentioned earlier, you’ll have to get past me.”

 
He tossed her a training blade, a blunted saber with the tip filed flat, and gestured to her boot. “We’ll use our own short blades.”

Keelan gave him a sly grin. “With pleasure.”
 

 
Starting in a neutral position, they circled each other. For a few seconds, they thrusted and parried, testing each other’s speed and intuition, then Keelan began an earnest attack. She managed to drive Daniel back several steps before he recovered and returned attack.

 
It seemed to Landon it would only be a matter of time before Daniel would have her backed up against one of the guns at her back. As far as a woman’s skills with blades were concerned, she impressed him, but was still at a distinct disadvantage. Daniel was stronger and more experienced. She’d be no match for him. Already, Ronnie had moved closer to take her place after her defeat.

As Landon had predicted, Daniel backed her up against the long gun and wedged her between the muzzle and the rail. She lunged toward him, locked her hilt with his and drove her shoulder into his chest, forcing him to stumble back a step. Before the man could recover, she had slipped over the gun and pulled out her dagger. By the time she was two steps away, the blade was flying through the air. It struck the rag in the upper left corner. The men above them shouted and cheered.

 
Daniel acknowledged her with a slight nod of his head, but before she could make her next move, he turned and threw his blade as well. It hit the bottom corner of the rag. By the time her gaze shifted from the target back to Daniel, he’d already blocked her path, sword glinting menacingly.
 

 
She circled, preventing him from turning to run to the target and retrieve his knife. Before he could begin an attack, she jumped back a few steps, reached under her vest and withdrew a stiletto and sent it flying. The lower half of the chicken feather fluttered to the ground and Landon’s brows raised in surprise.

 
Impressed, Landon laughed at Daniel’s startled expression.
 

“You said: ‘we’ll use our own short blades’,” Keelan tossed over her shoulder, already running to the target. “You never said we could use only one.” She wrenched her weapons free of the wood, returning both to sheaths. When she whirled to face Daniel, her eyes widened.
 

 
He stood between her and the bucket. Except now, the bucket was twice the distance from the target.
 

 
“And you still must be behind the bucket before you can throw your blade.” Daniel lowered his brows and smiled like a wicked pirate.
 

 
Landon perused the target. The strip of cloth Daniel had secured on it waved almost tauntingly. He doubted there was a man aboard who could hit a moving target as small as that one.
 

 
She cautiously approached, lifted her sword and waved it in a serpentine pattern.

“Don’t try to distract me,” Daniel said. “I won’t let it happen again.”

Keelan laughed and lunged. Daniel parried her attack and retaliated with one of his own, driving her farther from the bucket. She feigned left, ducked right and rolled. She sprung back on her feet and drove her shoulder into the backs of Daniel’s knees before he had time to turn around.

The man hit the deck with a thud, losing his grip on his saber, which skidded away, coming to a stop near the rail. Keelan scrambled to her feet like a monkey and pulled out her stiletto as she hopped behind the bucket. Daniel rolled to his side and pushed himself up to his hands and knees like an old man.
 

Keelan tilted her head as she studied the flutter of the strip of cloth. She pulled her arm back then paused. The startling green of her eyes captured his gaze like a jewel would capture a thieve’s. Even if Landon wanted to look at her pert, slightly upturned nose lightly sprinkled with freckles or the impish, pink mouth, curved at the corners, he couldn’t. Her eyes held him rooted like a wild fig tree.

She released him when she shifted her gaze to the stiletto. After a slight adjustment of her wrist, she threw it.
 

Smart woman. The men roared from the yards and Landon had to laugh at Keelan’s quick mind. Rather than try and trap a moving piece of fabric, she instead targeted the place where it had been secured to the wood—the only part that couldn’t move.
 

Daniel had risen to one knee, his forearm draped over his thigh. He shook his head in good-natured defeat then stood with a smile. Keelan grinned then turned to Landon, reached a hand to her head and gave him a jaunty salute.

As he lifted his hand to return it, she pulled the tattered blue scarf from her head, allowing her shoulder-length auburn and brown curls to fly with the breeze.
 

The air left Landon’s lungs in a gut twisting whoosh. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe, a roar echoed in his ears as if the tiger’s mouth was inches away. From where it came, he didn’t know, but a vision of a woman, lean and lithe, auburn hair hanging to her waist, standing on the fringes of a pine forest invaded his mind.
 

She had a faded blue head cloth in her hand and the edges of her mouth curled up in an impish smirk.

The vision of a fiery haired nymph danced through his mind and flitted away. If he hadn’t already been leaning against the rail, Landon would have staggered backwards at the impact of it. A similar one had come to him days earlier, when Keelan had jousted with Ronnie. A slicing pain in his head accompanied it, forcing him to turn away and wait until it abated. The pain had diverted his attention and when he’d tried to recall it, the memory dissipated like mist swirling on a morning sea.
 

Today, there had been no pain to distract him, and he remembered more of it this time. Was it a recent memory? Could it have been a memory of Keelan? It couldn’t. Could it? He shook his head. The face had been there one moment, then gone the next.
 

He spun and faced the water, pounding his fist on the rail. This memory loss made him feel weak. He wasn’t used to feeling weak. His men followed him because they respected his leadership and the decisions he made that put coins in their pockets. They followed because they feared his temper and any repercussions that would follow a betrayal.
 

Why did he allow his heart to soften again for a woman? After what Lenita had done…nothing could convince him to give his heart to a woman ever again. Nothing.
 

“Did ye see that last toss of Mahdi’s stiletto, Landon?” Ronnie's voice carried a note of both admiration and amazement as he approached the helm. “I lost a weeks’ worth of my share of grog to Marcel on it, dammit.”
 

Landon turned and managed a short laugh as the youth bounded up the last two steps to the helm. “I did. It was a fine throw. I doubt I could have done better.”

“Marcel said she was handy in a fight, but I didn’t believe him,” Ronnie admitted grudgingly. “Guess I should have taken his word on it.” He glanced at the helmsman’s charts. “How long til Charleston?”

Landon lifted his face to the breeze and shrugged. “If this wind holds, before nightfall.” He gestured to Ronan to follow him away from the helm and other open ears. What he had to say needed to be kept between the two of them until he knew more.

 
He had to know if Keelan was telling him the truth or not, and prayed Ronnie would be able to clarify everything. Women lied more than they told the truth. This woman, Keelan, had manipulated him into a precarious position. Ronnie and Gus were the only others who knew of his memory loss, besides her. Ronnie, supposedly, was the only one who knew of their marriage. There was no one else aboard to confirm her story. He needed Brendan or Conal for that, and it could be weeks before he’d be able to ask them. Did she lie because he’d caught her trying to steal the ring? It was very possible. He could have her put in irons for it. They were nearing the port of Charleston; if he didn’t get his memory back before they docked, she could very well escape after playing him for a fool and stealing him blind.
 

That made the decision easier. He’d not let her out of his sight until he remembered everything.