Hart's Desire (Pirates & Petticoats Book 1) (26 page)

Well, here at last was something on which the two of them could commiserate. Although it pricked her pride to do so, she had to admit she was no less bothered.

 
“Please excuse me,” Margaret said, “I see Mother and Aunt Alice have taken a seat. I am going to see if I can get them anything. I’ll be back soon.” She gave Keelan a shy sideways glance. “Perhaps you can introduce me to Captain Hart later?”

“Of course,” she responded automatically, careful to keep her voice expressionless. Well, one thing was certain; she would
not
actively seek Captain Hart’s company. For her own piece of mind, she was determined to keep as much distance between herself and Landon Hart as possible. In fact, it would probably be best if Margaret couldn’t easily find her after she got her mother and aunt settled.

She glanced around the room. Everett was completely surrounded by a cluster of elderly gentlemen and appeared to be involved in a very animated discussion. Doreen had managed to drag some poor young fop to the dance floor. Annette Camsby chatted with several young men whom she recognized from their calls to Twin Pines.
 

Captain Hart was nowhere to be seen.
Good, perhaps he left.

A servant wandered past with a carafe of wine.

“Blackberry wine, Miss Grey?”
 

“Yes, thank you,” she replied, allowing the girl to refill her glass. She sipped the sweet berry wine and glanced toward the veranda. The gentle whisper of solitude beckoned to her. Perhaps she could wander unseen for a while and enjoy a bit of the moonlit evening in peace. The last thing she wanted to do was watch Landon and Mrs. Camsby waltz again.

She slipped outside and down the steps to the garden. The strains of music from the ballroom drifted with her. She ducked beneath the wisteria blossoms dripping from the arbor and followed the garden path lined with tiers of herbs, until she reached the small lake behind the house. It shimmered in the moonlight, like midnight blue silk and diamonds. She recalled the crisp lake water caressing her heated skin and smiled to herself. Sleek black locks and steely arms intruded into the memory, followed by hot, wet kisses and hard, lean thighs. Her breath came out in a puff, and she quickly swallowed another deep sip of wine. Did he come to the ball just to torment her?

As she raised the glass to her lips again, a warm hand closed around hers and gently removed the stem from her grasp.

“Careful, Keelan.” The deep timbre of Landon’s voice resonated with warm humor. “The stairs are much harder to navigate when drunk.”

“Spoken from experience, Captain?” She tried to sound disinterested, but her words came out thin and breathy, and weak.
 

He gave her a boyish grin. “You could say that.”

Landon placed her hand on his arm and before she could object, they were waltzing in the garden.
 

“I don’t want to dance with you!” Although she stopped and tried to pull away, he trapped her hand against his chest.

“Come,” he said. “At least help mend my broken heart by dancing one waltz with me before you wed yon gawky heron,” he said as he nodded toward the house.
 

“I should not dance with you,” she said, fighting the near panic rising in her chest. “Or even talk with you.” Let him think she said that because she was engaged, rather than the real reason. Rather than admit she had a hard time thinking clearly when he was near. Or admit that his touch made her stomach flutter like a newly hatched bird.

“I beg you, save me from young Miss Doreen,” he pleaded in a mocking tone. “I fear her shawl will slip further.”

She could not keep her mouth from twitching.

“One dance will not harm you, Keelan,” he whispered softly. She pressed her lips together and tried to glare at him. “Will you cause a scene at your cousin’s ball?” he asked, eyebrows cocked.
 

“Cause a scene? Here in the garden? I could simply return to the house,” she retorted.

“What makes you think I’ll let it be that easy, love?”

He wouldn’t dare cause another commotion, would he? “Haven’t you done enough damage?”
 

“Damage? I thought I did you a favor. You managed to create a perfect situation where the man your father would’ve had you wed rejected you, and the man you loved only had to announce his intent. That was your plan, correct?” His words clipped through the night air sharply, like horses’ hooves on a paved street.

“Yes. No!” He twisted her words, warped her reasoning, and made her sound so mean and devious. The guilt she felt over the effect her actions had on Doreen made everything sound worse. Or did it clarify things? There’d been no other option that would have helped her attain her objective.

She jumped as he placed his hand on her waist. The heat from his palm had to be melting the fabric of her gown. Her breath stuck in her throat as she met his gaze.
 

In a low voice, he murmured, “Were you in your cousin’s gown, I would strenuously object to the addition of a shawl, fan, or any other obstacle to my view.”
 

“That’s because you are a rake.” He enveloped her hand in his and the sensation of his palm against hers left her unable to gather her thoughts. She studied his face and expected again to see a mocking look, but instead saw something hooded, almost dangerous lurking in his eyes. For a moment, she teetered. Should she flee from the garden or allow this to continue? It was fairly harmless, was it not? Not. She could think of many words to describe Landon Hart. Harmless wasn’t one of them.

“Relax, it’s only a waltz,” he murmured in her ear.

He was intruding on her thoughts again. “Fine then let’s get it over with!” she whispered fiercely, unnerved he’d sensed her tension so quickly. Hopefully, the firmness of her voice disguised her frayed nerves. Curse the overpowering effect his very presence had on her peace of mind! Why was she so weak and gullible?

As they danced, she let the distant notes of the music penetrate her senses and soothe her. They glided around the garden path. Their movement had no beginning and no end; it was a constant, fluid motion, moving to the rhythm of the music.
 

She had to admit he was quite good. After being the brunt of Everett’s clumsy attempts, it was refreshing to dance with a partner who seemed to anticipate the next note to float from the string. The night air was soothing and alive and in spite of everything, she relaxed in his arms. Gone was the tension from acting her ruse; gone were her fears and concerns. She danced in the moment, and she felt free and safe and vibrant. Landon’s long, lean fingers curled around hers and squeezed gently, almost tenderly.
 

“I think dancing is like a passionate kiss,” he said. “Like the ones we’ve shared. It’s much more pleasurable when you relax, and let the natural movement guide you along.”
 

“Dancing is nothing at all like kissing, and I don’t think you should speak of sharing anything with me,” she answered, uneasily. Unable to keep the visions he recalled from flooding her senses, she closed her eyelids, which did nothing to make them go away. If anything, it nudged her imagination up a tempo.

“No? Spoken from experience, I gather?” he asked, repeating her earlier question to him.

She pursed her lips in annoyance. He was teasing her again. When she let down her guard a little, he pounced like a panther.

She instantly regretted making eye contact, her attention captured by deep blue eyes that mercilessly refused to release her. In those clear blue pools was an image of the two of them fused together by a kiss radiating white heat. Her pulse quickened with the memory. Could he feel it pounding in her fingers? Then she realized, with some chagrin, he awaited her answer.
 

“Yes. No. I mean…” her voice trailed off, flustered. What was the question? Something about a kiss? Drat the man. Now her cheeks were on fire. “I have kissed more than enough men to know how to kiss with passion.”
 

“I seriously doubt that,” he said, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“Believe what you want, I don’t care,” she shot back.

“Show me.”

No two words could have been more destructive to her peace of mind. “You’ve stolen enough kisses from me to know. You don’t need me to show you,” she replied.

“Oh, but I do.” He gave her a slow mocking grin “You have shown me you can join me in a kiss, but can you spark the flame in my heart all on your own? When I have kissed you, your kisses were sweet and moist. How could they not be, coming from lips like these?” He ran his thumb across her lower lip. “But hear this, my love. It’s the passion I have stirred in you and tasted on your lips which has ensnared my heart.” His gaze fell to her mouth, and she struggled to swallow. “Still, you have much to learn, and I have much I can teach you about the fine art of kissing.”

The heat from her cheeks spread down her neck.
 

Fine art
?
 

“You must have kissed many, many women to consider yourself so knowledgeable on the subject, that you raise it to the level of an art,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
 

“A few,” he replied still grinning, apparently enjoying her discomfort. “There is more to it than placing your lips against a stone.”
 

“I have not kissed a…” she recalled Dr. Garrison’s kiss in the garden and snapped her mouth shut.

 
“A truly passionate kiss takes form when you combine passion
and
love,” Landon continued, as they moved through the next dance. “It’s extremely difficult to act like a passionately, in-love person when in truth you’re not. In love, that is.”

When Everett had come forward and revealed she had already accepted his proposal, did she appear to others as if she was in love with the doctor? Landon aroused a new worry. How would she be able to act as if she was in love with Everett in return? People married without love all the time, did they not?

“I…was not acting,” she scoffed. Did she sound convincing?
 

Landon leaned forward until his lips almost touched her ear. The light caress of his breath as he spoke made a shiver run across her shoulders. “Were you acting,” he whispered, “when we kissed in the cabin during the storm? Were you acting when you cried out my name after I stroked that sweet, moist spot between your thighs?”

Keelan stared over his shoulder, unable to meet his gaze. That moment had been haunting her dreams every night. Even now, she was having trouble controlling her breathing. She should be ashamed of allowing Landon to be so intimate with her. Should be.

But she wasn’t.
 

And she didn’t regret it, either. Everett would never be able to stoke that fierce level of passion from her; she was glad at least she’d experienced it once with Landon.
 

This conversation was moving along a dangerous path. She tried to change the direction.
 

“Love and passion aren’t as important as other elements of marriage. Fidelity. Honor. Trust. Respect. Those traits create the foundation of a good marriage,” she countered.

“Commendable attributes.” Landon agreed, squeezing her fingers and brushing them with his lips, making her stomach flutter and her breath shorten again. “But what good is building a strong foundation if there is only an empty shell perched upon it?” Landon guided her around a rose bush. “Love and passion give a marriage substance and purpose. Combine that with your foundation of fidelity, honor, trust and respect, and no empire could ever possess greater wealth or strength.”
 

Her throat tightened. Did Landon Hart, the man who admitted marriage didn’t suit him, truly believe his own words? How could she possibly trust him after finding out he couldn’t prevent his own marriage from faltering?

Was he simply telling her what she wanted to hear in an attempt to seduce her? He probably assumed since she was already taken, he could do so with no repercussions, no firm entanglements. She was unsure of the answer, but she’d keep her guard up.

His warm breath caressed the tender skin around her ear, and a hungry tingling moved down her spine and twirled low in her belly. She was weak and vibrant at the same time. It was a sensation she could have enjoyed, if Landon Hart had been her husband and not a man only concerned with adding her name to his long list of conquests. He played with sweet words and hypnotic touches in ways that made her helpless to object.
 

In fact, he stirred such a tumultuous whirlwind of desire deep in her core that she ached for his touch.

“What would a man like you know about love?” she whispered hoarsely, “Passion may flow through your veins, your touch might leave young maidens breathless, but can you love only
one
woman?” Annette Camsby floated to the forefront of her mind along with the image of the two of them conversing earlier, heads close together, her hand on his arm like it was familiar. Landon had been every bit as comfortable with that woman as he was with her. How could she possibly believe she meant anything more to him?

“Can you stay faithful to your wife even when other beautiful women offer themselves to you without demanding the bindings a marriage vow dictates? Can you love the same woman day after day, year after year?”

Landon’s eyes had a fierce light, like a midnight fire. “If she captured my heart and trusted me with hers…yes.”

She laughed her disbelief. “Forgive me if I find your words hard to believe.”

 
“Has Dr. Garrison offered you the same?” Landon arched a brow.

“He has offered all I…require.” Did her voice betray her lack of confidence?

“So you do not require to be loved,” he responded.

“Of course…I do.”
 

“So you love him?”
 

“Of…of course…yes, I do.” The lie tasted sour in her mouth like an unripe grape. She sought to find some words of truth to sooth her irritated conscience. She could love someone without being in love with them, couldn’t she? Slaney’s words echoed in her head. “Sometimes, love comes later.”