Hart's Reward (Pirates & Petticoats #3) by Chloe Flowers Page A

chagrined, but remained silent. Keelan sat on one of the two chairs at a small wooden table. Two trenchers of half-eaten food sat on the table. She swallowed a bite, wiped her mouth and glared at Landon.
    Without breaking her stare down with him, she said, “Please sit back down and finish your meal, Daniel.” She dropped her napkin on her plate. “I’m afraid I’ve lost my appetite.”
    The dig wasn’t lost on Landon or to his embarrassment, Hunter either.
    The valet scooted to the table and picked up his plate. “I’ll finish in my room, mistress.”
    “I’ll see you in the morning.” She smiled softly.
    Daniel gave her a quick nod and slipped out the door. Landon kicked it closed. If he managed to refrain from killing her, it might be a miracle worthy enough persuade him to enter the seminary. Even now, green fire sparked from her eyes and the sweet smile she’d given her servant had turned into a scowl. How many faces did she have?
    “How dare you speak to Daniel that way!” She shot to her feet, knocking her chair over. She stepped around it and approached Landon, a bundle of fury and fiery beauty. “He practically raised me and has been nothing but a faithful servant and staunch protector.” When she reached him she put her hands on her hips and tilted her stubborn, little chin up. “Just because you don’t remember someone, doesn’t give you permission to be rude.”
    Keelan, standing barefoot with a man’s shirt hanging almost to her knees, eyes blazing, with that impish mouth, so pink and lush and kissable, awakened something in his belly that had slept when he was with Annette. The scent of jasmine wafted into his nostrils and he froze. A glimmer of a memory flickered before his eyes. Wisteria blossoms drooping lazily from an arbor, an auburn haired beauty in a gown that shown like polished silver in the moonlight. He couldn’t make out her face. Was it her? Was it Keelan? He closed his eyes, desperately trying to bring it into focus, but it faded.
    “Landon?” Keelan’s voice was soft.  
    She placed a warm palm on his forearm. Opening his eyes, he stared at her. Concern creased her brow. He reached up and touched her hair, allowing a curl to curve around his finger, imagining it the color of burnished copper. He cupped her face with both hands and stared into the emerald eyes rimmed in gold.  
    Why couldn’t he remember? He wanted to remember. He was desperate to remember. There were too many unanswered questions. There were too many treacherous situations where Keelan was involved. She’d killed someone, there was a man who would pay a hefty price for her, and one of the key people in Fynn’s network had been found out. Landon could only move forward with the information he had now.
    “You didn’t tell me you owned slaves,” he said, each word articulated with tortured rancor. “Nor did you happen to mention that you are wanted for murder.”

    For a moment, something in the way he looked at her reminded Keelan of her Landon. Her heart jumped at the possibility that the fog in his mind might be lifting. It disappeared with the tone in his voice. Accusing. Angry. Wary.
    “I don’t own slaves,” she replied. “Papa did…he owned Twin Pines plantation when he was alive.”
    “Who owns it now?”
    Where was he going with these questions? Was he starting to remember?
    “Papa told me he would leave it to Uncle Jared but my uncle said that Papa left the plantation to me, so I’m not certain who owns it, nor do I care.” She’d left that life behind the second she set foot upon his ship.  
    His eyes narrowed. “And the reward for murder?”
    The memory of Gampo’s voice screaming her name and hurling threats at her as she ran away from the burning warehouse sent an icy trail of shivers across the back of her neck. Could their common enemy, Gampo, bring down a portion of the wall of distrust he had built between them?  
    “A man hired Gampo to kidnap me. I was taken to a