If You Give a Smuggler a Secret & If You Give a Rake a Reason

1. Chapter One

1

Chapter One

A Clash of Swords

I left a gift for you at the end of the book. You’ll love the recipes!

Charleston, South Carolina

May 1811

Two figures circled, each with a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. The first stood tall and lithe, his blade flashing, just visible in the early morning light. His opponent, smaller in both build and height, quickly blocked the slice.

Merchant ship captain, Landon Hart and his best friend and business associate, Captain Conal O’Brien, crept to the edge of the clearing for a better view of the duel.

“We’ll skirt the meadow and keep behind the cover of the trees,” Landon murmured. As an orphaned youth, he’d been in his fair share of unbalanced skirmishes. In more familiar surroundings, rather than among the vast plantation estates outside the city of Charleston, he would have already intervened. He and Conal had just turned down the lane to Twin Pines when they heard the collision of swords nearby.

A dense layer of dead pine needles on the forest floor muffled their steps. Soon, they were close enough to discern the whisper and hiss of the blades, followed by the strident metallic clash and ching as sword met sword.

Although the larger dueler had tinges of gray at his temples, he moved with a seasoned grace and nimble ease. Fluid arcs chased fleeting thrusts in seamless sequence. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows, shirt neatly tucked.

The boy’s breeches were thin at the knees and stuffed into a pair of boots several sizes too large. A faded blue length of cloth wrapped around his head, tied at the base of his neck where the tail hung halfway down his back. Even in the over-sized boots that threatened to trip him up with every thrust, the surprisingly agile and light-footed waif held his own.

The two duelers seemed to be alone. No mounts or wagons lingered nearby, so this didn’t appear to be an ambush or an attempt at a robbery. No seconds to serve as witnesses, nor a physician standing ready, so perhaps not a planned duel. But then, what was it?

Conal leaned closer, his voice soft. “Doesn’t seem a fair fight. I’m going to put a stop to it.” His eyebrows shot up as the boy’s dagger flashed in an arc and caught the upper shaft of his opponent’s sword. The youth beat the tip away and began his own attack with his long blade.

“Wait.” Landon placed a hand on Conal’s arm. His friend had a knack for acting first and thinking second when it came to physical confrontations. “I don’t think it’s an earnest fight,” Landon murmured, as he studied the movements of the duelers. “It seems to me that it’s a training session of some sort. Let’s see how the young one fares. I find it peculiar a grubby whelp wields such a fine weapon yet wears those poorly fitted boots.”

Conal watched another moment and nodded. He leaned a shoulder against a tree trunk.

“Step away, Keelan,” the older man said in a clipped British accent. He swung his weapon in a swift upward flash toward the youngster’s chest. “You are offering too short a path to your middle. It leaves you vulnerable to my long blade.”

Keelan. An Irish name. Many families from Great Britain, his included, took the crossing to America, hoping to start a better life. Interesting that an Englishman took the time to tutor an Irish lad.

In answer, Keelan slashed his blade diagonally down across his opponent’s exposed stomach, deftly cutting a ten-inch swath in the older man’s linen shirt.

“You mean like that, Daniel?” he retorted with a smirk. He also had a British accent on his tongue. A Brit with an Irish name, curious.

“He’s but a lad, hardly weaned,” Conal whispered. “His voice still has the high pitch of a child.”

The two combatants paused. Daniel scowled at the tear in his shirt before lunging forward, swinging his weapon in a rapid combination while the boy tried valiantly to block the attack. The blows thundered harder, the blade hissing like an angry snake. However, it wasn’t the man’s skill that brought the boy down.

It was the boots.

The coarse grass snagged his heel and foiled his hasty retreat. With a loud “Oof!” Keelan went down hard on his backside, the jolt knocking the sword from his grasp.

“You are finished,” Daniel said. He pointed the tip of his weapon to the boy’s chest.

“Hold!” Landon shouted, stepping from the shelter of the trees. If he was wrong about the training, another moment’s delay could mean the child’s life. He wouldn’t stand idly by and allow the outmatched lad to be harmed.

Daniel’s head jerked up. When the shout distracted the man, Keelan reacted. He kicked his legs up and somersaulted backward, losing both boots in the process. The maneuver put him in a crouched position, ready to fight again. Then the lad did the strangest thing.

He threw his dagger directly at them.

Landon and Conal yelped and dove to the ground as the weapon whizzed over their heads and landed in the dirt somewhere behind them.

The lad smacked the earth in frustration.

Daniel shook his head. “Your throw was not balanced.” With his hand on his hip, he jabbed the air with his sword. “Your chest must point to your target before you release.”

“What matters is I threw first, which yields me five points!” The boy flexed his hand and licked the inside of his thumb. “It beats the three you get for disarming me, aye, Daniel? I win today.”

Daniel glanced at his wounded shirt, then over at the trees where Keelan had thrown the dagger, before he shrugged in agreement.

“An interesting game,” Landon said, brushing his breeches as he got back to his feet.

Daniel turned toward them, pointing his sword at Landon’s chest before stepping in front of the boy. “What is your business at Twin Pines?”

Conal stepped forward, drawing the movement of Daniel’s weapon with him. “My uncle, Fynn Ahern, scheduled a meeting with Commodore Grey for this morning. I have a letter from the commodore confirming it.”

Daniel lowered his sword. “The commodore does indeed have an appointment with a Mr. Ahern today. Where is he?”

Conal shifted. “He’s dead. I’m Captain Conal O’Brien of the Seeker. This is my business partner, Landon Hart, captain of the Desire. We were Mr. Ahern’s associates.” Conal reached out to grasp Daniel’s hand.

“I’m sorry to hear of his passing,” Daniel said

“Thank you. It was unexpected,” Conal replied.

Daniel returned his attention to Keelan. “Your skills have developed well. I’m proud of your progress.” He deftly threw his dirk. The knife hit the same tree where, moments before, Conal had stood. It struck with a solid thunk, and the bottom half of a feather, wedged into the bark, fluttered lazily to the ground. “Your impatience and lack of concentration denied you the ten points you would have earned had you actually hit the target. Instead, you’re left with a meager five points and a nasty little cut.” He reached down and helped the lad to his feet. “Is it deep?”

Keelan studied it. “No. Slaney will rub marigold tincture on it and it’ll be fine.” He warily eyed the two strangers as he retrieved his stray boots.

Daniel put a hand to his chest and gave a slight bow. “I’m Daniel Hunter, valet to Commodore George Grey, the newest owner of Twin Pines Plantation.” He sheathed his sword and wiped his brow with his sleeve. Although only a couple of hours after sunrise, the air was thick and still, his shirt clingy with sweat.

Landon assessed the boy. His shoulders, though slight, were straight and haughty. Not much muscle to his arms. His wrists were thin, almost feminine, making Landon even more impressed with Keelan’s dexterity. Recalling the trials of his own youth, before Conal’s Uncle Fynn had taken him under his wing, he knew well the importance of besting this particular skill.

“You do well for one so young,” Landon observed.

The boy shot an uneasy glance toward Daniel, grabbed a boot and shoved his foot inside.

“Well, yes, er...” Daniel sent a sideways glance at the ragged figure busy snatching the second rebellious boot from the grass. The valet shrugged. “The lessons are for the child’s protection. Several family members recently died under rather suspicious circumstances, so Keelan’s father has decided the training should become more intense.”

“Your hand with a sword is impressive, Keelan.” Landon gestured toward Daniel. “It’s clear you are being given excellent instruction.”

Daniel smiled and inclined his head, accepting the compliment. The boy remained mute.

Landon tried again. “My crew and I must be keen with sword, pistol and dirk, if we’re to survive encounters with privateers and pirates. We all do our part to defend the ship. May I voice an observation?” he asked.

“Please do,” said Daniel. He relaxed only slightly, keeping his sword in his grasp.

Landon gestured to Keelan’s dagger. “Work on the short blade further. ’Tis a more valuable skill to have.” The tension in the lad’s shoulders tightened. There was something strange about the boy that seemed a bit...off.

The youth slammed his booted foot on the ground and straightened, his face flushed. “I don’t normally miss so badly,” he muttered. “I suppose a sailor can do better?”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed in apparent warning, and the boy dropped his gaze and busied himself by brushing the meadow grass from his sleeves before straightening the rag covering his head.

“I didn’t mean to offend.” Amused by his pluck, Landon added, “But in answer to your question, aye, any of my crew can do better, else they’d be dead. Now, if you’ll adjust your grip like so...” Pulling out his own dagger, he placed it in Keelan’s hand, careful to avoid the wound. He moved behind and reached around to set right his hold. “Mr. Hunter is correct about facing your chest to the target. But you must also c**k the hand back, but keep the wrist firm, like this.” He gripped the lad’s wrist and made the adjustment. “Try it.”

Keelan stood still, taut as a fiddle string, his other fist clenched at his side. Daniel took a step then stopped, as if someone else’s legs were attached to his body and he wasn’t sure how to move them.

“Widen your stance a bit and bring this foot forward.” Landon placed his leg against the boy’s thigh and kicked his boot away and forward, then squeezed his shoulders and gave them a rough shake. “Relax.”

Oddly, Keelan remained motionless. Angry for the tutelage, or embarrassed? Keelan seemed to struggle to remain composed. Landon frowned, irritated the runt acted so ungratefully. At that age, he would have lapped up this lesson like a thirsty pup. He’d been on his own since very young, and he grew up fast. He learned many harsh lessons. Not the least had been how to defend himself against a bigger opponent.

Landon stepped back. He half expected the child to fling the knife into the pines as hard as he could and stomp away. Pride seemed to outweigh Keelan’s anger, and he finally relaxed his shoulders. He balanced the blade in his hand, drew back, set his wrist, and threw. It hit, pinning the top half of the feather. The boy pursed his lips; whether it was in grim satisfaction or acute aggravation that the instruction had corrected his flaw, it was hard to tell.

“There, you see?” He clapped Keelan on the back. “You’re a fast learner. We’d gladly welcome you as a ship’s hand aboard the Desire.”

“Thank you, captain,” Keelan said. The corners of his mouth lifted a little.

Daniel cleared his throat. “You’d best get along now and tell Slaney to inform the commodore and Mr. Grey visitors have arrived and will be at the house shortly.” He grasped the lad’s elbow and steered him in the direction of the house.

Keelan gave a curt nod and scuffed away. Daniel bent to retrieve the boy’s fallen sword, walked to the tree and wrenched the captain’s weapon from the trunk.

Landon’s bemused gaze followed the child’s awkward gait to the end of the meadow, where the youth halted and turned to face them. Slowly and deliberately, he reached up to his head and threw them a jaunty salute. Before they could raise a hand to respond, the boy pulled the long blue scarf from his head.

Landon froze.

Conal’s jaw unhinged.

Long auburn hair cascaded over the waif’s shoulders and down to her elbows. Not a boy, but a young woman.

She flashed a triumphant smile, obviously satisfied she had sufficiently astonished them. There was a toss of her head and a flash of blue, then she disappeared. Her laughter hung on the breeze for a moment, then it too drifted away, leaving behind a stunned silence.

Landon replayed the last few moments in his mind. His arm across her chest adjusting the blade... his knee nudging the inside of her thigh to widen her stance... It’s a wonder she didn’t clobber him over the head with her sword.

Keelan’s face hadn’t been flushed with anger and restraint, but instead, in acute embarrassment. Landon caught sight of the valet’s scarcely extinguished frown.

“My apologies,” he said, fighting to smother a grin.

Daniel nodded. He fidgeted with his belt a moment before he spoke. “It’s best forgotten, if you will.” He handed the dirk to the captain. “Come, let’s retrieve your horses and get them to the stables. Commodore Grey and his brother are most curious as to the nature of this meeting you have requested.”