Hart's Reward (Pirates & Petticoats #3) (12 page)

Icy fingers of fear gripped her spine and she reached for the knife hidden under her pillow. The figure lunged toward the bed and Keelan screamed, rolling backward off the other side to the floor. She scrambled to her feet and ran toward the door. Her attacker slashed his blade through the fabric of her shirt and across her ribcage, causing her to arch back involuntarily at the sting.
 

The door crashed open and Daniel stumbled in, a sword in his hand. The assassin drew his arm back and threw his knife. A strangled scream broke from her throat, then Daniel blocked her view. There was no mistaking the sound of the blade sinking into his chest.

“No!” she screamed as he sank to the floor. The assassin bolted to the window; his movement making Keelan instinctively throw her dirk. She sent it into the man’s back with all the rage and despair that exploded from her heart like an ignited powder keg. A guttural noise escaped from his throat before he fell from the window to the alley below.

Sobbing, Keelan dropped to her knees and reached for Daniel, praying that the blade missed his heart. A long, hard arm snaked around her waist and pulled her to her feet before she had time to scream again.
 

Landon’s voice was low and firm in her ear. “Stop struggling, Keelan, it’s me.” His arms came around her and he held her tightly against him. For a moment, she allowed herself the luxury of relaxing in his arms, inhaling the calm authority that emanated from him. She couldn’t help Daniel if she allowed herself to panic.

“Daniel—”

“Nothing can be done for him now,” Landon murmured into her hair. “I’m sorry, Keelan.” He pushed her toward the door where Simon stood waiting. “Get her out of here, Simon. You know which passage to take. Go.”

Simon grasped her wrist and she pulled against him. They had to take Daniel. They had to help him. “No! Stop, I have to help Daniel! Let me go!”

Landon took her face in his hands. “He’s dead, Keelan.”

She shook her head frantically. He can’t be dead. Not Daniel. She looked at the man who’d practically raised her, and a wretched sob built in her throat at the sight of the knife handle protruding from the center of his chest. A tremendous weight descended to her shoulders and the floor gave way beneath her feet.

“Simon, get her out of here!”
 

“I’m sorry, Miss Keelan,” Simon said earnestly.

Before she could reply, Simon picked her up and left the room. His shoulder pressed hard against her stomach and she could barely take a breath, let alone vocalize her outrage.
 

Doors opened and panicked voices drifted up from the second floor. A dim light illuminated the stairwell.

Simon strode to the far end of the hall and opened a small closet. Placing Keelan on her feet, he gently pushed her inside and reached past her to release a latch on the back wall. A narrow door swung open. He gripped her elbow then closed the hall door, plunging them in total darkness.

“Sorry, Miss Keelan, but I’ll have to lead you. The steps are steep, but I know dem well and can guide you down.”

Simon must have understood that shock and grief had frozen her tongue; he didn’t wait for her to answer before he moved and pulled her down the steps. They were moving inside the walls of the tavern. Beyond the hidden staircase was a low narrow passageway. It smelled of dirt and onions and the air was stale and hot. It wasn’t long before rivulets of sweat ran down the side of her face and between her breasts. Simon groped his way along the wall and a few minutes later, he stopped.

A soft click echoed in the dark and a rush of fresh air enveloped Keelan and she took a deep breath.
 

“Stay here ’til I check da street. You can follow when you hear my whistle. Close the door soft and it’ll latch well enough.” Simon released her arm and slipped out.
 

Keelan glanced out the doorway. The passageway opened up to a narrow walk between two buildings. Simon’s bulk filled the space as he stepped sideways toward the street, although Keelan had no idea what street it was. He paused at the end. A few seconds later, she heard a soft whistle and slipped out to the path.

She’d only taken two steps before she heard a shout. Then another.

“Hold! I recognize you, you son of a bitch!”

“Mac! Look who we found!” another voice yelled.

There were sounds of a scuffle, muffled grunts and expletives. She scooted back to the door and tried to pull it open, but it wouldn’t budge. A new surge of fear rushed over her; she was still clad in only the long linen shirt. She had no weapon. No way to help Simon. Praying that the buildings blocked the moonlight enough to veil her in darkness, she sank to her belly.
 

“Ho, lads! What’s going on here?” Landon’s voice drifted to her and she sagged in relief.

“We’ve caught a runaway blackie, is all.”

“How do you know he’s a runaway?” Landon asked.

“Been looking’ fer ‘im near two days now. We work fer his master.”

“Ah, then. It looks like you’ve caught him. Nice work.”

The sound of clanking chains was followed by a pained grunt.
 

“Dammit, Mac. Why’d you do that? Now we gotta carry him and he ain’t gonna be no light load.”

“It’s a good thing there’s four of you,” Landon said.

A harsh laugh. “Coulda used two more. I think Brewster’s nose is broke. Mister Pratt has plans to make an example outta ‘im. Been helping other nigga’s to escape. This one can expect a long fall from a short rope by sunset tomorrow, that’s fer damn sure.”

“Since you have everything in hand, I’ll return to my room. There’s been a lot of excitement tonight. Some sorry bastard fell from the third story window earlier,” Landon said in a casual tone, sounding as if he was discussing the weather or last night’s supper.

“You don’t say,” the man said. “Well, you can go get back to bed now, we won’t be disturbing the quiet of yer slumbers anymore.”

She heard the grunts of the men as they moved their burden away as well as Landon’s steps in the other direction. Should she wait for him to find her? The rest of her clothes were back in her room at the tavern.

“Keelan?” Landon’s whisper was barely audible. He’d returned to the end of the narrow walkway near the street and slipped in.

“I’m here,” she whispered back.

“I have your things, we have to go. The tavern is already roused, and the Schoen’s will have to send for the sheriff soon.”

She scrambled to her feet as he approached. He handed her a bundle. It was her breeches and boots, thank goodness. She dressed in jerky movements, aware that tears had begun to stream down her cheeks. Daniel.

“Today, you’re going to learn how to ride astride a horse,” Daniel had told her when she was seven.
 

She stood in boys breeches and boots, thrilled at the prospect of learning how to ride, but feeling tiny next to the bay mare.

“You may never use this skill, but should the occasion ever arise, it’s crucial that you accomplish it well.”

When she turned ten, Daniel handed her a short blunt sword. “This is a rapier. It’s an elegant weapon we shall use to introduce you to the necessary footwork you’ll need to learn in order to better master the craft of fencing.”

“Why are you teaching me how to fence?” She’d much rather go for a ride. Minutes earlier, she’d gotten into a tussle with one of the stable boys, who’d pushed her to the ground and skinned both her elbows. He couldn’t hurt her if she was fleeing across the heath on her pony, but she couldn’t get her pony if he wouldn’t let her in the barn.

“Would you like to be able to defend yourself should you ever have a desperate need to do so?” he’d asked in a casual tone.

That got her attention. She soon became an avid student and it wasn’t long before the stable boy quit trying to bully her out of the barn.

Daniel. He was gone.

She paused long enough to wipe her eyes with her sleeve, and in the corner of her eye she noticed there was a second figure with Landon. Ronnie nodded a greeting and he fell in step behind her while she did her best to mimic Landon’s catlike stealth as he led the way.

Landon headed toward the
Desire
with slow deliberation and care, pausing frequently to search the night for other figures following or hiding in shadow. They halted across the thoroughfare from the pier. Inky swells slapped the pilings in time with the creaks and yawns of the sleepy vessels anchored nearby. Although there was no movement, Landon’s stillness kept her frozen. She tried to peer more closely into the darkness. He touched her shoulder and jerked his head to the crates stacked by the pier entrance. It took a moment for her to pick out the irregular shadows in the moonlight. Two men, were taking turns keeping watch, one slept, the other scanned the ship and the wharf.

Landon, Keelan and Ronnie backed into the shadows and retreated. Where else could they go? Uncle Jared’s house was not an option; Gampo’s mercenaries already knew to look for her there. Her question was answered when they turned down the street toward the livery.
 

A bleary-eyed groom answered Landon’s knocks and allowed them in after examining Landon’s receipt. He gratefully headed back to his bunk when his assistance was waved away. The three didn’t speak as they saddled Orion and Juliet. The foal whinnied when they led the horses from the livery, prompting Juliet to return a low whicker.

“Hush, Juliet,” Keelan murmured. She patted the sleek, gray neck to reassure the mare. “We’ll return for your baby, don’t worry.”

They stayed off the main streets and meandered their way out of town. After they passed out of the city of Charleston, Landon finally spoke. “We’re going to a safe house a little way from here. It’s on the border of two separate plantations, Twin Pines…” He shot a glance at Keelan. “And Oak Leaf.”

Oak Leaf— old man Pratt’s plantation.
 

There’d been a time both Papa and Uncle Jared had tried to persuade Keelan to accept a marriage proposal from Mr. Pratt. She shuddered. Too many stories floated around about how heavy-handed he was with his female slaves. Uncle Jared had waved them away, but Daniel had always said that in the fabric of every rumor, a thread of truth is woven.
 

Now, Simon was back there, awaiting his doom.
 

“We can’t leave Simon behind to be hanged,” she said.

“We won’t.” Landon replied.

Ronnie turned back to look at her from his seat behind Landon’s saddle. “We’d been discussing a plan when you screamed.”

His words brought forth the vision of Daniel, crumpled on the floor, dead. Fresh tears burned her eyes as the thick, dark arms of grief wrapped around her chest. The horrible guilt that assailed her made it even harder to breath. It was a moment before she realized they’d stopped and she was choking on sobs.

Without saying a word, Landon pulled her from Juliet’s back. She collapsed into the comfort of his arms and allowed him to hold her and stroke her hair. He murmured low resonant words and his chest rumbled while he spoke. They stood swaying on the side of the road until her tears were spent.

She turned away from him and wiped her face with her sleeve, already damp from tears. Landon touched her shoulder, but she didn’t want to look at him, especially now with her nose red and her eyes swollen. She was being proud about her appearance at a time it was useless to do so, yes, but he already despised her, why compound it?

An ironic smile twisted her mouth.
 

She was dressed in boy’s breeches, boots and a dirty, frayed, blood-stained shirt. Her hair was a startled, wild spray of curls scared out of bed by an assassin, then exposed to the hot humid air of a South Carolina summer night. She couldn’t look any worse of a fright.

How was she going to get Landon to fall in love with her again if all she did around him was cry or lose her ability to speak eloquently (or speak in general) or think? Somewhere deep in her heart, she had hope for the two of them. He may not love her or trust her or even like her at the moment, but she wasn’t going to give up.

“Keelan, you have my sincerest condolences,” Landon whispered.

She could only nod.
 

“I’ll find a way to have him properly buried, perhaps near Commodore Grey,” he added.

“That would be nice, thank you,” she was finally able to find her voice.
 

He touched her shoulder again. “I want to take you to a safer place. Can you ride?”

In answer, she turned and remounted Juliet and adjusted the reins. He nodded his approval then mounted Orion. There was an edge of pity in Ronnie’s eyes. She tried to reassure him with a small smile.

Keelan recognized their surroundings now. In the dim light of the predawn, the dilapidated cabins hunched in the dewy meadow like old men. One had completely collapsed, the others had partial roofs and walls. She and Landon had taken refuge here during a horrible storm a month ago. Her face flushed at the recollection of his hands on her thighs and his mouth on her breast.
 

Certainly unaware of where Keelan’s thoughts had meandered, Landon had stopped in shock, taking in the collapsed cabins and general destruction of the area.
 

“A hurricane hit the low country a few weeks ago,” she explained.
 

Ignoring her, Landon halted near the collapsed cabin and dismounted to walk through the debris toward a crumbled chimney. He wouldn’t find what he was looking for. The trap door next to the chimney was now covered by crumbled bricks.

“It’s blocked,” she said. “The chimney collapsed on it during the storm.”

He stopped and whirled back to glare at her. “How do you know this? It’s been a secret refuge years.”

Keelan dismounted, pondering how to answer him without giving him another story he’d call ludicrous. She sighed. No matter what she said, he’d only believe half of it. “Because you and I were hiding in the cellar when it collapsed. We had sought shelter here.” She walked to the tunnel entrance behind a large boulder a short way from the shanty. “It’s probably an even better hiding place now, than before the storm.”