Looking for a Hero (15 page)

“In Morgan's lap, of course.”

Casey urged Kate down to the floor, then scrambled onto Morgan's empty thigh. “Okay, we're ready whenever you are.”

Embarrassed, Kate pulled a still sleeping Bubba close, and refused to look up at the storyteller. Instead, she concentrated on the toes of his scuffed black boots, which inched ever closer to her bare knees as she sat cross-legged on a braided carpet.

“'Twas a foul and blustering night when my story begins,” he said, his voice low, hushed, the way Joe's had always been when he began one of his favorite pirate tales. “Lightning shot through the sky, and the thunder sounded like a thousand banshees beating their drums. A lone horseman rode through the stormy night, frightened by the trees that hovered over him like giant skeletons. He needed a place to rest, he needed to find someone who would give him food and shelter, because he was tired, scared, and very much alone. But instead of friendly faces, he saw anger, and snarls of fear, and doors were slammed and bolted in his face.

“When he had barely the strength to hold onto his horse's reins, a shooting star fell through a hole in the blackened clouds and burst into flame on the ground before him, brightening the earth with a golden light. At first he was frightened, but the warmth of the fire wrapped around him like a fine velvet cloak, and out of the blaze stepped an angel with emerald eyes and hair the color of honey.”

The triplets were on their stomachs now, their heads propped on their arms, their wide eyes transfixed by the storyteller's words. Kate, too, was drawn in, anxious for him to go on every time he paused.

Closing her eyes, she rolled her aching neck as she listened intently to Morgan's tale of fairies and trolls, of a handsome prince and the guardian angel who made him see good in a world that to him had been filled with nothing but evil.

She'd expected to hear a dastardly yarn about pirates of old, of buried treasure, murder and greed, but he appeared more at ease telling a fairy tale that seemed more real than fiction, a story she found easy to believe.

“Did the prince marry the angel?” Casey asked, and just like the triplets, whose eyes widened, Kate waited eagerly to hear his answer.

“'Twould not be fair to spoil the story, Casey. You must listen, and wait, for the greatest of treasures appear when you least expect them.”

Kate doubted that Casey or the other children understood those words any more than she did, but Morgan made falling under his spell so very easy, and Kate had the feeling that once you were hypnotized, he could say anything and you'd believe it.

Bubba yawned, nestling his cheek against her breast. She could sense Casey and Sara stirring in Morgan's lap, and he continued his story as rain pounded against the windows and wind howled through the trees.

Kate jumped when warm fingers touched her neck, and for the first time since he'd begun his story, she twisted around to look at him. Casey was wedged between the chair and Morgan's side, and Sara was cuddled in her lap, both with their eyes closed. Morgan smiled, drew one hand from Kate's shoulder, and put a silencing finger to his lips. Without skipping a beat in his story, he swirled one thumb lightly around the curve of her neck, then the other thumb joined in.

She lowered her head, letting it fall lazily forward, as his fingers worked the same magic on her aching muscles that his story worked on her mind. Drawing in a deep breath, she closed her eyes, and lulled by his soft English accent, the warmth of his voice, the comfort of his hands, she dozed, in and out of a dream world where she'd never been, a world inhabited by honey-haired angels, and a tall, dark, and handsome prince, with a scar racing down the side of his face.

The doorbell rang, loud and obtrusive, and Morgan's knee banged into her side as he abruptly pushed up from the chair, thrusting Sara into her lap, and Casey to the floor.

Kate scrambled up, groggy from her dream-filled nap, and the doorbell rang again.

“It must be Sara's father,” she said in a rush of words, knowing how impatient the man was, how he was always in a hurry to drop Sara off in the morning and to leave at night.

Morgan's face bore a heavy frown, and worry filled his eyes. Again he put a finger to his lips. Without a word, he rushed up the stairs, taking them three at a time, and disappeared from sight.

The magic of the fairy tale had come to a sudden and much too abrupt end, and a new fear pulsed through Kate. Morgan Farrell had reason to hide when he was in the eighteenth century. But what reason did he have for hiding now?

K
ate stood on the front porch, waving good-bye to Bubba and his mother as the battered VW bug sputtered away from the curb. Wrapping an arm around a newel post, she breathed in the sweet fragrance of gardenia and jasmine, of fresh-mown lawn and damp earth, and was overcome by the sudden and unexpected feeling that something good, something special, was going to happen tonight.

Behind her the screen door slammed, and Casey skipped out to the porch, tucking her hand into her mom's. “Do you think Mr. Farrell's going to stay this time?” she asked, looking up at Kate with wide blue eyes that were the very picture of Joe's.

“I don't know, Case,” she answered truthfully, wishing she could offer a positive answer. She looked away from her daughter to the faint gray puffs dotting the sky, where a mere fifteen minutes before there'd been only swirling sheets of black, thunder, lightning, and rain. Dark blue sky peeked out from behind the clouds, and one lone star twinkled, a sure sign that night was on its way.

“There's a wishing star way over there,” Kate said, and Casey's eyes followed the direction of Kate's pointed finger. “Why don't you make a wish?”

“I wish…I wish…” Casey giggled, bringing a smile to Kate's face. “I wish Mr. Farrell was my daddy.”

The smile faded, as Kate knelt down beside her little girl and pulled her close. “I'm not in love with Mr. Farrell, Case.”

“But I am.”

“I know you are, but that's a different kind of love. I'd have to marry Mr. Farrell for him to be your daddy, and people should be in love—really, truly in love—when they get married.”

“The way you loved my daddy?”

Kate nodded, a hint of sadness squeezing lightly at her heart. “That's right. The way I loved your daddy.”

Across the street Kate heard the squeak of a wooden plank on Evalena's porch, and her aunt's high-pitched voice. “
Yoo-hoo!
”

Evalena bustled down the stairs, her slippers scuffling across the walk and over the wet asphalt road. Her muumuu fluttered around her, an empty basket swung at her side, and she was red-faced and winded by the time she reached Kate's house. “I have the most wonderful news,” Evalena said, clapping a hand to her breast and taking a deep breath. “I've met a new man. The most devilishly handsome thing to ever wander up St. George Street. And A-l husband material, too.”

“Are you going to get married again?” Casey asked.

“Oh, dear me, no, although Mr. Lancaster is a delightful fellow, so delightful that I invited him over for dinner tonight.”

Kate turned her head upward, rapidly counting puffy clouds in an effort to avoid what she sensed was Evie's latest matchmaking scheme, but all to no avail.

Evalena waddled up the stairs and sidled up close to her.

“I've made my prize-winning shrimp casserole and a double-chocolate brownie torte for dinner. You and Casey
will
join me and my guest, won't you?”

“She can't go anyplace,” Casey chimed in. “Mr. Farrell came back.”

Kate gave up counting and lowered her eyes long enough to see Evalena's plump, rosy cheeks light up with joy.

“Ah, Mr. Farrell,” Evie cooed. “Now,
there
's a handsome man for you. Husband quality if ever I saw it, even though he has that nasty-looking scar.”

“It's not nasty looking, Evie,” Kate informed her aunt. “Once you get to know him, you hardly notice it.”

“You've been looking, have you? That's a good sign, Katharine. Proves you're interested.”

“I'm not interested—”

“He's going to be my daddy,” Casey interrupted. “I made a wish on a star. That's almost like praying, I guess.”

Kate leaned her head against the newel post and sighed, wondering how she could possibly be surrounded by a woman and child interested in nothing but marriage, when that was the furthest thing from her own mind.

“Well, standing around here chitchatting isn't going to get my basket filled with flowers,” Evalena said, maneuvering carefully down the steps and out across the lawn. “Thought I'd steal some of your jasmine and gardenias to sprinkle around the parlor before my guest arrives.”

“I'll help you,” Casey said, beating her aunt to the raised borders surrounding the porch. Kate could almost hear the jasmine rejoicing as her daughter snapped off one bud after another, tossing them into Evie's basket.

“Can I spend the night with you?” Casey asked, looking up at Evalena. “I like shrimp casserole, and I really like double-chocolate brownie torte.”

“And how do you feel about Perry Como?” Evalena asked with a wink.

“Oh, I really,
really
love Perry Como. What about your new friend? Does he like him, too?”

“Well, we'll just have to find out, won't we?” Evalena twisted around to look at Kate, her basket now overflowing with purple and white blossoms. “You don't mind if Casey stays with me, do you?” she asked, but it seemed more a statement the way Evalena shuffled off across the street, basket swinging in one hand, Casey's little fingers tucked tightly in the other.

“You'll have the house all to yourself,” Evalena bubbled. “Well, you'll have Mr. Farrell, too, and…and….” Evalena's words trailed off, but her laughter filled the air even after she and Casey disappeared behind Evalena's door.

Kate didn't need to hear any more. She knew full well what was on Evalena's mind. It was the last thing that was on hers. Spending another evening alone with Morgan disturbed her. She didn't know why he'd run away when the doorbell rang, why he'd needed to hide. But that wasn't what bothered her the most. It was more the fact that his soft voice continually hypnotized her, his story entranced her, and the gentle touch of his fingers at her neck soothed away the stiffness in her muscles while enflaming most everything else.

She didn't want to fall in love again—not with him, not with anyone. But she wanted to be held, kissed. She wanted to wake up in the middle of the night to find her head resting atop a strong, masculine chest, or a broad hand lightly draped over her hip.

She didn't want a husband. She didn't even need a commitment. She just wanted someone to help her get through the long, lonely hours of the night.

Looking up at the wishing star, she thought about asking for one night of heaven, but let the thought flit away. She'd already been blessed more times than she could count, so it didn't seem fair to ask for anything more.

The warmth of the evening and the sudden sound of Perry's mellow voice made her forget the need to go inside to pick up toys, to sweep up grass and dirt tracked in by little feet. She didn't want to make preparations for the next day or think about fixing a dinner that she wasn't hungry enough to eat. Instead, she sat on the front porch swing, drew her knees up to her chest, and delighted in the feel of the tufted chintz cushion beneath her feet.

She closed her eyes, resting her forehead on her knees, wishing that warm fingers would once again ease away the returning stiffness in her neck.

And then she felt them—the callused thumbs and strong fingers working miracles along her spine and shoulders.

“'Tis too lovely a night to be alone,” Morgan said, his mesmerizing voice drawing her further into the fantasy that had become impossibly real. “From my room I watched the children departing with their parents. I watched Casey and her aunt roam the yard, then disappear into the house across the street. But I did not see you, Kate, and it was only you I longed to see.”

His words sent a shiver from her throat to her stomach, and goosebumps rose on her arms in spite of the warm evening air.
Why?
, she wanted to ask, but it was another question that came to mind.

“What made you run away? It was only Sara's father at the door.”

“I am a pirate. A wanted man.”

“Three hundred years ago, but not today.”

He laughed and sat behind her on the swing, his body close, hot. His hands wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her back against his chest. She could feel his hair against her skin, could feel the warmth of his breath close to her ear. “I was seen on
Satan's Revenge
,” he whispered. “And there's a strong possibility that the authorities think I'm a thief and possibly a—”

“You
are
a thief.”

“Ah, but that was three hundred years ago.” His fingers spread over her shoulders, along her collarbone, and made soft circles over her throat. “Do not worry, madam. I did not take anything that wasn't rightfully mine.”

Her head drifted back as his voice, his touch, worked their hypnotic powers on her much too tired mind and body. Her cheek brushed lightly against a cheek that felt freshly shaved. She could feel him tilting his head, felt soft lips moving ever so slowly along her jaw.

Was he hypnotizing her, drawing her into a spell she might never escape from? His fingers were magic. His kiss was pure enchantment. But the marvels of his touch were going to end all too soon.

Kate threw herself forward, out of his arms, out of the swing, out of the trance. She backed to the far end of the porch, until the railing stopped her movement. She watched him stand, his passionately dark eyes penetrating her soul. He moved to a place where the waning sunlight shone down on deep brown hair that swept over his shoulders like a cloak, making him appear more a mythical creature than a flesh-and-blood man.

She touched her jaw, shivering at the remembrance of his lips whispering over her sensitive skin. “Why did you do that?” she asked, like a foolish schoolgirl.

“Because I am a thief, madam. I saw something I wanted, and I took it.”

Willing herself to get out from under his spell, she forced her eyes away from his steady gaze, to his powerful chest, covered quite differently with a white oxford shirt, to his muscular legs clad in tight blue denim. He was no ordinary man, but the charm of the pirate lifted long enough for Kate to once again gain control of her senses.

“Were those clothes something you wanted? Did you take them, too?”

He deliberately rolled the cuffs up on the long-sleeved shirt, baring darkly bronzed forearms sprinkled with nearly black hair. Folding his arms across his chest, he hooked the heel of one black cowboy boot over the lower railing surrounding the porch, his gaze never wavering from her face.

“How easily you turn the conversation from you to me.”

“I'm an open book. You, however, are a mystery. You sing, you tell stories, you appear out of nowhere and disappear just as easily. Do you want to know the truth? You scare the hell out of me.”

The grin she'd grown used to crossed his face, and the much too passionate eyes twinkled with unheard laughter. “Ah, Katie. I will miss you greatly when I go.”

She turned away, looking at the shadows lengthening across the yard. “Then don't go.”

“I must—eventually. You know that.”

“You said you were leaving last night, too, but you came back. Now you have the nerve to rub my shoulders and make me feel better than I've felt in years. You look at me as if you plan to devour me whole. You kiss my neck like…like….” She spun around to face him again. “Oh, hell! If you think I'm going to let you do anything more to me when you plan to walk away at any moment, you're out of your mind.”

“I do not make plans to seduce you, madam. It happens of its own accord, as if all control leaves me when you are near.”

“Oh.” His declaration left her nearly speechless, and heat rose to her face. She turned away so he couldn't see the frustration rushing through her, the emotions she didn't know how to handle.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to speak rationally. “So, how much longer do you think you'll be here?”

“A day. Two perhaps.
Satan's Revenge
is being repaired. Once that is complete, I will find a way to avoid the guards and sail away. 'Twill not be easy without a crew.”

“Maybe you could shanghai a sailor or two.” She laughed lightly in spite of the anguish tearing through her.

She could hear him walk toward her, felt the soft brush of his chest against her back. “There is only one shipmate I would want at my side,” he said softly. “But I cannot ask her to give up her life in this century to go with me.”

She ignored his words, fighting to keep her emotions under control. Ignoring the gentle touch of his fingers as he smoothed hair away from the back of her neck was harder to do, especially when he leaned close and whispered into her ear. “Will you miss me when I go?”

Of course she would, but what difference would that make to him? He was going to leave whether she had feelings for him or not.

She pulled away. “Casey's going to miss you. I imagine my aunt will, too.”

“That doesn't answer my question, Kate. Will
you
miss me?”

She shook her head, working up the courage to tell him a bald-faced lie—that she wouldn't miss him at all. “You've caused nothing but trouble since you walked into my life,” she declared. “You're a pirate, and I'm the widow of a police officer who used to arrest men like you, men who take what they want, when they want it, and to hell with what's right or wrong.”

He gripped her arms, pulling her against his chest. “
Will you miss me?
”

“No. I can't afford an extra mouth to feed, and I can't stand having my life disrupted.”

His hands fell away from her arms. She heard him take a step back. Heard his frustrated and angry sigh.

Wrapping her fingers tightly around the railing, she stared absently at the jasmine and gardenias.

He didn't move. He didn't touch her. Silence hung around her as heavy and stifling as the humidity in the air.

Without a word he marched from the porch, his heavy footsteps beating like sledgehammers on the planks, on the stairs. She heard the crunch of his boots on the gravel-and-crushed shell walk, then absolute quiet. Suddenly she heard his tread again, as if he'd changed his mind about leaving. She heard him crossing the mushy, rain-soaked lawn, heard the rustle of shrubbery just before his powerful body materialized before her.