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

5. Chapter Five

5

Chapter Five

A Smuggler's Terms

Pirate.

With his ebony hair wild about his shoulders, Keelan pictured Landon Hart with a brace of pistols and a scabbard, standing at the helm of a wicked pirate ship. His mouth was perfectly shaped. When his white teeth flashed, his smile was so brilliant she stopped breathing altogether.

He was beautiful.

Azure eyes took on a mischievous glint, making her wonder if he’d read her mind.

Although her mouth had gone dry, she managed to dredge up a few raspy words. “I would gladly come out, but my hair is trapped.” He referred to her as a girl, which was more annoying than being caught in a bush. “I am not a mere girl. I’ll have you know, I’m nineteen.” She clenched her jaw and struggled harder to yank her hair loose. Ugh. She had the most abominable luck.

He strode closer, bringing an aura of delicious power with him. Broad shoulders blocked out the sun. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance and liberate you from your bushy captor.” He threw her a lazy grin followed by a long, unsettling appraisal from top to toe and back. His molten gaze faltered at her lips and he stilled.

Hart’s nearness had a troublesome effect on her lungs, and she found it difficult to draw a breath. There was a rakish quality in this man, to be sure. She’d learned early to be watchful of those characteristics.

As if he noticed his proximity flustered her, he stepped nearer. Heat rolled off him in waves, along with the scent of leather and sandalwood shaving soap. He probably also knew he was ridiculously handsome. She wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he was terribly conceited and prone to more than a little deceit, as well.

Once again the word “pirate” came to mind.

She forced an even tone, despite a thudding heart, then pulled anew. “No, thank you. I’m sure I don’t need your help.” A sharper pain shot across the back of her skull. “I can do it, really, Captain Hart.” That was probably a lie. Why didn’t he just leave her alone? Or just leave?

Either or would be fine.

She couldn’t think.

“Nonsense.” He gently clasped her wrists and drew them away. His fingers were very warm. Well, it was also a warm morning. Sunny. Humid. Very, very warm.

And he was too close.

The scent of him mingled with leather and fresh spring air, which combined for a heady mix of male and danger and unsettled calm.

Her pulse jumped wildly under his touch, and the prospect he might feel it too terrified her. Tiny prickles of fire zipped under her skin where his fingers brushed.

“Hmmm.” He leaned over her shoulder and studied the tangled web of curls. “It would seem you have a dilemma, my sweet. There is an extensive amount of curls and several twigs involved.” He reached for his dagger. “I can cut you free—”

“Wait!” she squeaked. “Can’t you cut the branches instead?” She choked in a scant breath, as that was all that could fit at the moment. Why was it so difficult to breathe?

The desperate desire to save her scalp and the powerful urge to flee warred with each other in her mind. The savage aura surrounding Landon Hart sent her nerves into a frenzied dance, and she hated she couldn’t keep calm and act nonchalant. Unaffected. Bored.

Would he leave her if she demanded it?

Doubtful.

Humor warmed his eyes to a velvet blue; he was having too much fun at her expense to withdraw now.

He gave her a mock frown. “It’ll require a great deal of effort to both disengage and keep these silken strands of copper and gold intact.”

His voice dripped words like honey over scones. Thick and sugary. Her gaze drifted back to his lips. It took a moment to remember what he’d actually said. Another before she could form an entire sentence.

“I’m confident in your skills.” Hopefully she conjured enough sarcasm to mask her unease. At least she didn’t stutter.

It nipped at her pride no small amount, but obviously she needed his aid. A chunk removed from her hair and a sliced finger would be impossible to hide.

Uncle Jared was already suspicious of her tendency to rise before the sun, unlike his family, who usually slept through breakfast. One more of her incidents would likely push him past the limit of his patience. Although he was a servant, Daniel was like a beloved uncle to her. She would do whatever she could to prevent him from being punished.

Still, no one liked to beg. Releasing a slow breath, she willed her tone to remain steady.

He was still much too close. And hot.

“Can you spare a moment to untangle them?” She nudged away her pride and added, “Please.”

Landon sighed dramatically and touched his fingers to his broad chest. “How can I possibly refuse such a distressed and heartfelt plea from such a comely maiden?”

A breath of tentative satisfaction escaped. She wished to believe he could be chivalrous, but her instincts were nevertheless on alert.

“However,” his casual perusal skated from her eyes to the tangles and back again. “As a tradesman, my time and labor always come at a cost.”

Gentleman, ha! It had been foolish to hope. Naïve, even. The cautious sense of relief chilled. “A cost?” Her voice could have coated the garden with frost, yet he seemed entirely unaffected. “What cost would that be?” This was not going well.

His expression remained stoic while he scratched his chin. “The lowest on my books for freeing a young lady from a barbaric bush is...” His eyes darkened to a sultry blue and again dropped to her mouth. His nostrils flared. “A kiss.”

A what? He couldn’t be serious.

She opened her mouth to rebuff him. Remind him of his place. And hers. Her first kiss would not result from a...a...barter! Or blackmail, or...

He dare not!

No matter how she struggled, words eluded her. She swallowed. It was as if he’d uttered a spell paralyzing her mouth and limbs. Only her eyes worked at the moment, and she couldn’t even get them to glare instead of widen like an astonished doe.

Hart ran the outside of his knuckles along her jaw before cupping her chin, causing every nerve ending to vibrate. He leaned forward and lightly stroked her lips, feather soft, tasting. The pressure of his mouth intensified, and she lost control of her eyes, too. They closed.

His mouth, both soft and hard, consumed her sense of time. A tiny hum escaped from her throat. When he parted her lips with a hot, slick tongue, it shocked her enough to gasp. A tingling sensation swirled deep in her belly and her body curved into his. Need surged. A low satisfied rumble vibrated in his chest and he dove his fingers into her hair and deepened the kiss. Stroking, probing. Her strength ebbed, as if some sort of magic transferred the energy from her body to his, and she numbly wondered if her legs would hold. He trailed kisses along her jaw, pausing near her ear. A sharp zing shot around her neck, causing an involuntary shiver to follow.

“You taste of sweet maple syrup,” he rasped, before taking a smooth inhale. “And smell like a spring morning.”

Her lids fluttered open. Warring with a mixture of bewilderment and shocked desire, she struggled again to find her tongue.

“That...that...” Her hands were gripping his forearms, and she released him as if her fingers had been scalded.

Blast it all. She’d stuttered!

“Was delicious,” he finished for her. “Your lips drive a man mad longing for another taste.” The side of his mouth quirked up, but his voice seemed oddly hoarse.

He mocked her, surely. And it was nothing more than maple syrup and corn mush. And she was nothing more than a flustered maid, paralyzed by something as ridiculous as her first kiss.

Stupid girl, letting a man like him get you ruffled as a spring bird.

She fought to regain her composure, which at best lay in tattered shreds at her bare, dew-drenched feet. Her body’s reaction both surprised and angered her. Surprise because of the unexpected pleasure that invaded her core in a swirl of sultry satisfaction, anger stirred by that all-knowing, hooded perusal through those thick, inky lashes, and the stupid stuttering. He knew how his kiss had affected her, probably relished the sense of mastery it gave him, which only fueled her intense determination to give him some sort of dressing down.

His fingers burned through the fabric of her sleeves, and for some reason, she had the front of shirt in her fists. Her knuckles skimmed against the hard ridge of a rib. She let go and grasped his hands, in a vain attempt to peel his fingers from her waist, which was in flames.

“You have no sense of propriety,” she sputtered. There. That sounded proper. And chastising. At least her voice worked again. For the most part.

“No,” he agreed. “But then, I never claimed I did. Now—” He leaned close again.

“Don’t you dare!” She narrowed her eyes, giving him her best death glare, unsure she’d be able to keep her dignity if he kissed her again. Not that she wanted him to kiss her again.

Of course she didn’t.

Heaven knows she’d almost melted from the first one.

He chuckled, let go and began untangling her hair. “You’ve paid me well, my lady. I’m honor-bound to fulfill my duties.”

She snorted, not caring how unladylike it sounded. “I doubt you understand the meaning of honor,” she said, convinced he was more rake than anything else. “You deserve to be slapped soundly.” He truly did. “No gentleman would take such liberties, or suggest such a bargain.” Pointing out the fact he was no gentleman would undoubtedly come as no surprise to the scoundrel. In fact, it wouldn’t alarm her if he was proud of it.

He paused, laughter glittering in his eyes. “Liberties? I seized no liberties, only fair payment for my services.”

“It gives me cause to wonder how many other ladies you have seduced into a kiss with your silver words and roguish charm,” she retorted.

If it was possible (which a moment ago she would have argued it was not) he leaned even closer. His breath warmed her ear, his whisper from deep in his throat. “A gentleman never tells, my dear. Suffice it to say none were unwilling and not all were ladies.”

“You...” Her voice betrayed her again, and she barely choked out the rest of the sentence. “You really are a rake.”

He gave her a wink, which stirred up those stupid butterflies again. “I will say, none as intoxicating as you, my love.”

“I am not your—augh!” Her cheeks grew warmer, and she was ridiculously pleased at his compliment. Did most women fall all over themselves for a chance to enjoy his attentions? She was not like most women. Not at all.

If he thought to place her in the same category as those weak-willed, twittering females, he had a thing or two to learn about Keelan Grey. She absolutely didn’t twitter.

A flippant veil of nonchalance draped over her demeanor would help. If only she could more succinctly conjure that veil. Damned if dragging her stare from the cobalt eyes of Landon Hart almost required more strength than she could muster. It didn’t help that her attention locked on to his amazing lips, still curled into that I know what you’re thinking smile.

He changed the topic, thank goodness. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing dressed as a street urchin and playing with blades?”

Beautiful? An odd fluttering rippled over the skin of her stomach. She clenched the muscles, demanding it stop. Her eyes jerked back to his, expecting to see them glittering with jest.

But only a calm interest lingered there. He lifted a brow, awaiting her answer.

She took a careful breath. He’d just presented an opportunity for her to talk with him about her problem. Her heart gave a hopeful thump. Perhaps she could still salvage the day.

She dragged her attention away from his chiseled face. “My father instructed Daniel to train me to defend myself.” She fiddled with a small branch.

“It appears he’s been doing it very well,” he complimented, a smile in his voice. Perhaps this was a game for him, but to Daniel it was not. To her, it was not.

Argh! She wanted to shake him and make him understand how dire the situation had truly become. She curled her hands into fists to prevent them from going for his neck.

Take a breath. Speak calmly.

“Since it upsets my Aunt Sarah, my uncle has forbidden me to continue the training,” she went on, pretending he hadn’t spoken.

He chuckled. Now that was a dangerous sound; it made her toes tingle. “Ah, so I see. The prohibited exercises continue in secret now,” he said.

Unnerved by how he made the word “secret” sound so deviant, she nodded and plucked at the leaves. It seemed safer than looking directly into those eyes again.

Might as well simply say it.

Taking a deep breath, she plunged ahead. What’s the worse that could happen? Ridiculous question. “I would sincerely appreciate it if you would keep that knowledge to yourself. For Daniel’s sake,” she added.

“For Daniel’s sake?” Doubt threaded his words together, making her want to pinch him hard.

She nodded. “He’d be disciplined severely if Uncle Jared finds out we defied his orders.”

“But what about your sake?” he said, eyebrows raised.

“I can deal with any repercussions which affect only me,” she hissed, anger tightening her fists. He didn’t understand her plea. This wasn’t about her, it was about protecting Daniel. “I don’t want Daniel in trouble.”

His face went carefully blank. “Are you lovers?”

“What? No, of course not!”

He glanced up and appeared to ponder her request, all male arrogance in that “I know I’m blocking out the sun” kind of way.

What a conceited horse’s ass.

She had to bite her lower lip to prevent herself from saying it out loud. Perhaps Aunt Sarah was right when she’d questioned whether Keelan was spending too much time in the stables. Such language. And the captain still pondered.

After a couple more moments of torture, he smiled. “Your clandestine activity is safe with me.”

Her quiet sigh of relief was short-lived, however, as he continued to beam, white teeth gleaming brighter than the midmorning sun, which he still blocked. He had another dimple on his left cheek, which was as distracting as the one on the right.

“My terms for keeping a lady’s charade a secret are—”

“You wouldn’t!” she whispered. Would he? Another one of his kisses would be her undoing.

Worse, what if one more kiss didn’t buy his silence? What if he wanted more? A strange thrill rippled up her spine, and she fought to squelch it. She’d not jeopardize her future any more than she already had. As it was, they were lucky no one had seen them. Her family would spare no time dragging Hart before a man of the cloth at gunpoint and forcing him to take her as his bride.

The thought both elated and destroyed her. She’d be the lonely wife of a man married to the sea.

Just like Papa.

She could not let that happen.

She would not let that happen.

Her mother lived a miserable, lonely life while her father was at away at sea with the navy. She would not become her mother. Brittle...bitter...sad. Keelan was made of sterner stuff.

She lifted her chin. “Should a member of my family witness—”

Scorching fingers circled her wrist and stilled her tongue. He pressed his lips to her palm, then sucked lightly at its center. His wicked mouth ignited a searing sensation all the way up her arm and along the sensitive skin of her neck, leaving her too stunned to speak, too aroused to reason. The power she sensed earlier pulsed through the surrounding air, and she found herself unable to move.

Unwilling to move.

How did he do that?

He released her hand. “I shall collect my due another day, sweet Keelan.” He gave her a mocking wink. “I promise to remain mute on the topic. In addition, I am pleased to tell you I’ve liberated those imprisoned locks of silk from this malicious bush. You, my dear, are free to go about your clandestine business.”

Not yet trusting herself to speak, she stared at him. The raw hunger in those piercing blue eyes shook her almost as much as her reaction to it.

A smile spread across his face with the slowness of a sunrise. “It’s indeed been my pleasure serving you.” The mockery in his voice made her want to punch him. “As much as I wish to linger, regrettably I must go, though it takes all my strength as a man to do so.” He gave her an exaggerated bow, bade her farewell, and left the garden.

Definitely arrogant. And conceited.

In a mute stupor, she watched him walk away. Numbly, she lifted a shaking hand to her throbbing lips, still swollen and hot, and uncurled her hand. It burned as if Hart had dropped a hot coal on it. The sensations both thrilled and terrified her. She inhaled and tried to steady her frayed nerves and slow her pounding heart. Even as reason had warned her to resist, her body hadn’t listened. No man had never attracted her this way before. It left her horrified, bewildered, and dangerously curious.

Her mother might not have been the most nurturing parent, but she made sure to inform her daughter about the men who commit their lives to the sea. According to Mother, most were quite libertine in their way of life, and they lacked moral principle and any sense of responsibility, as did the women with whom they tarried. Keelan released a sharp breath. God forbid she turned into one of those women.

She’d grown up being suspicious of men like Captain Hart: wanton and promiscuous. Hart and those like him seduced maidens for sport. Her naivete likely amused him. Her cheeks burned at her stupidity and shame of being among the women he had seduced into a kiss. Surely there were a lot of them, as he was so talented at the practice.

She wouldn’t fall prey to his game again. And she most certainly would never seek the arms of a sailor who traveled from port to port. Why would she ever choose to live her mother’s life, full of longing and bitterness?