Pirate's Wraith, The (31 page)

When Harlan returned with the water, she relaxed slightly. They shared a few sips each. Her throat did not ache as much.

“
I left the toy horse on Jibby’s chest.” Her voice came out as a bare whisper.

“I
put it in my pocket, but it burned my hand. Elsbeth’s form swirled out of it like a fog. She went to join Josiah. Perhaps she will not haunt me anymore.” From his deep pocket he pulled out the small wooden animal. “It is most surely cursed.”

As she took it from his hand, the little horse vibrated. She held it against her chest and it warmed her as it usually did, but though it had traveled with her to this time she had no idea how it could send her back to 2011. Her car had spun and been hit by lightning. Dr. Gilroy had attracted lightning to the
Lyrical.
Was lightning necessary to go through time? How could this small wooden toy be a vehicle?

Maybe she had only been dreaming when she saw Elsbeth. She remembered an old saying, and sighed.
“If wishes were horses ....”

Harlan surprised her
by finishing the saying. “Beggars would ride.” He gave her one of his dazzling smiles and her heart turned over. “I am your steed, madam. Let us be off.”

She clung to his broad shoulders and fought to stifle her emotions. There could never be another man like him, not in any century. Indeed, like a pirate he had stolen her heart.

Chapter Twenty

With her thoughts and emotions in turmoil, Lesley watched the island grow smaller as they sailed away from it.

“Why didn’t they come after us?” She scanned the sea all around them but did not see any other boats.

Harlan shrugged.
“Hooper may still be insensible.”

“
So ... we have escaped disaster ... again.”

“
For now.”

Lesley twisted her hands together, well aware of their circumstances. They had hastily gathered some plums for their journey, but they would need more than fruit to sustain them. She had begged Harlan to head toward home for she feared if he headed to New Providence, he would fall in with another crowd of rowdy, lawless pirates. Touching the bruises on her neck, she winced. She hoped she never saw another pirate again. Harlan had cla
imed he would give up pirating and he seemed to be sincere about it. Back in the colonies, he had a chance to be a respectable member of society.

“
We can go out west. There’s a lot of empty space.”

“
I am not a farmer,” he grumbled. “Sailing is all I know.”

“
We’ll make pills,” she suggested. “We’ll start a pharmaceutical company of our own. We can call it Leslan or H&L, if you prefer. We’ll be rich.”

“
I do not like it. Witches use herbs.”

“
Don’t start that again. Herbs are plants that contain chemical compounds which aid in healing. Aspirin is made from willow trees. Digitalis from foxglove—”

“
Bibble-babble.” His crooked grin warmed her. After all they had gone through, they had developed an understanding--of sorts.

“
I’ll go to medical school and become a doctor.”

“
You are a woman.”

“
I’ll continue to pretend to be a male.”

He laughed.
“You can get away with being a lad, but you have no beard.”

“
I’ll glue some fur on my face.”

His deep sigh surprised her.
“You need not work. I will take care of you.” His light eyes were suddenly somber and sincere.

Her breath caught in her throat. She thought of telling him that she enjoyed working outside the home, but he probably would not understand what that meant. He might think she wanted to work in the garden. Still, his vow touched her deeply. He had been caring for her all along, but could they have a long-term commitment?

What was she thinking? She didn’t belong in this century. 

They headed northwest and the setting sun touched the golden strands in his hair with a russet glow. The wind blew against his wild mane as he gripped the tiller with his powerful hands. He looked as wild and free as any seabird skimming over the waves. 

Dammit. She loved him.

The small toy tucked into her waistband vibrated like a
cell phone. She pulled it out and held it in her hands. If she spoke to it, would she get an answer? Would it grant her a wish if she asked for one? Would it take her home?

She hated the eighteenth century.
She hated the hopelessness and misery of it. She could not understand how humanity had managed to survive the rough and brutal struggle to stay alive. Yet, she had found one person good and true—Harlan. Watching the joyful expression on his face as the boat sped through the swells, filled her with an overwhelming longing. She wanted to wake up beside him—tomorrow and the day after that—and for as many days as possible.

Forcing herself to stop staring at him, she gazed instead at the horizon as the sun settled down for the night. She thought of her sister, whose heart would be breaking. She thought of her niece and nephew, the condo, central heating, indoor plumbing, electricity, her job, pizza, beer, and a creamy latte. If there was a chance for her to go back she would take it, but if she did return to 2011 her heart would be torn in two. She would never find another man like Harlan.

She leaned against the gunwale. How could she love him with such fervor? They never had sex. Not once had she experienced that cannon in his britches. That one time in his cabin, she came close. Since then, they had endured one crisis after another. Who knew what catastrophe would overtake them tomorrow?

Some minutes later she realized the sun had long since disappeared and the sky overhead glittered wit
h stars. The wind died down and Harlan fussed with the sail to no avail. The sea flattened out.

“
Doldrums,” he muttered with a touch of anger in his tone. “We are becalmed. This should not be. We are too far north.”

“
Let’s have dinner then.” She handed him a plum.

“
No. I will row.” A thunderous cloud gathered on his brow. He moved to grab an oar.

Lesley suspected his crabby attitude resulted from exhaustion. He needed a little rest and relaxation. With a calm sea and nobody around, she made her move by slipping out of her clothing.
“How about me for dinner instead?”

For a moment, a mixture of shock and hunger warred in his eyes.

Hunger won.

As he swept
her into his arms, the toy horse slipped from her fingers. Her hands wound around Harlan’s neck and sought his lips. Famished for love, she drank in the taste of him—all male and so very rough around the edges. She reveled in his ardor, which was far sweeter than any other she had experienced. He handled her as tenderly as a rose petal, but the hard calluses on his hands excited her as he smoothed them along the soft skin of her rounded curves. She wanted him, needed him—skin to skin.

She tugged at his coat and he g
ot the message. Taking it off, he placed it on the floor of the small craft.

“
For your comfort. May the stars shine down upon your beauty.” He had never uttered such a poetic phrase in reference to her.

She smiled in wonder and her heart danced. When she settled upon his coat, he unbuttoned his britches, releasing his magnificent instrument of pleasure. Intoxicated by the sight, her breathing quickened and dampness gathered at the juncture of her thighs.

He knelt above her. “I will explore you, like an island. I will seek out your hills and valleys, and all your flowery delights.”

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes as she listened to his eloquence. He proceeded to worship every inch of her and her desire escalated until she writhed with need.

“Take me, now,” she begged, but his tender torture continued. She ached for fulfillment while his ministrations turned her bones to putty. He moved to kiss that most sensitive apex of her sex and she could do nothing but moan as the sensations overwhelmed her. When his tongue slid along her clit, a cataclysm took her. Her blood pulsed and throbbed until she lay spent.

“
I wanted you inside me.” She could not help the touch of disappointment in her tone.

“
But now you are ready.” His wide grin intoxicated her.

In awe, she spread her legs as he slid that wondrous weapon into her wet heat. In moments, she flew through the stars overhead as his thrusts brought her to a monumental pinnacle, far above the first. Her hands slid along his slick buttocks and pressed him deeper until they both cried out in the throes of ecstasy.

The stars overhead blinked out one by one and Lesley closed her eyes as Harlan’s body sheltered her. She fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

* * * *

With the rising of the sun, the wind stirred and woke Harlan. While Lesley remained in the land of dreams, he stared at her and wondered whether their lovemaking had been real or a fantastic reverie of his own. Nothing in his experience could compare to it for surely he had been brought to the gates of heaven at their climax.

A shudder ran through him at the memory for he wanted to take her again, now as she lay in slumber with only a sweet smile gracing her naked curves.

He loved her. He wanted to wed her and care for her always. He marveled that she had changed him in so little t
ime. He had spent years fueled by bitterness and hatred. Now, he was freed by this strange woman who had been brought to him so mysteriously, who resembled Elsbeth but was not Elsbeth. He saw the small pony lying beside her, but he did not touch it for he still feared its magic. Could this small object, wrought with his own hands, have brought Lesley to him? Most assuredly the pony had been imbued with powerful magic. Undoubtedly the Widow Vetter had instilled it with her most potent charm.

Did it lend protection to Lesley? She did not have it in her possession when Hooper
’s band of thieves captured her. She did not have it on her when Moody attacked her. She had held it when the cave ceiling collapsed and she had found him with its light.

Cautiously, he lifted the toy and placed it near her breast. Cold sweat covered him as an ever more fearsome anxiety now loomed in his mind. What if he lost her? Would he go mad? If the magic in this small toy had brought her to him, could it also take her away?

Swallowing his dread, he pulled on his britches. He had sinned greatly over the years and though he wished to start anew he did not know if it was possible. He could not guarantee he would live until the morrow. Last night, he had been blessed with Lesley’s sweet love. He would be grateful for that.

He gobbled down a few plums and set to work, being careful to rock the boat as little as possible while he harnessed as much wind as he could, and hoped land would appear soon.

Within the hour, the boat sailed along at a goodly pace but though he searched for signs of land he saw none. Lesley stirred and wished him a good morning with a shy smile upon her face. She stretched her lithe body and he grew hard at the sight. She laughed and kissed his groin, worsening his affliction.

“
We must watch for land and our enemies,” he reminded her.

“
How much longer will it be until we reach the mainland of the United States?”

Again, he had no idea what she meant, so he simply shrugged and that seemed to satisfy her. She hummed a merry little tune, washed herself, dressed, and ate a few plums.

“Sex with you is like a wonder drug. My ankle feels better,” she declared as she proceeded to take off the tightly wrapped bandages Gilly had so carefully applied.

“Take care not to let your foot
bear too much strain.”

“
I’m only sitting in this boat.” She wiggled her foot and winced. “It could probably use some physical therapy.”

She picked up the little pony and held it close while handing him his coat.
“You don’t want to get a sunburn, so put this on.”

He donned the jacket and they shared a little of the water they brought with them, but the day wore on and though the wind blew constant they saw no sign of land.

In the late afternoon, Lesley pointed to the eastern horizon. “I think I see the top masts of a ship.”

He followed her gaze and his hands gripped the tiller with more force than necessary. His heart began to pound as his alarm heightened.
“Take the glass from my pocket and look for their colors.”

Her small hand slipped into his pocket. With a light and quick movement, she pulled out the glass and opened it. 

“I don’t see a flag.” She lowered the glass and bit her lower lip. 

He forced a bland tone, though his tension mounted. It could be a privateer or something worse.
“It will be a surprise then.”

“
So we’re playing Russian roulette—sort of.”

He shrugged at her odd phrase.
“They may sail past.”

Her smile appeared forced, but he admired her fortitude
—as always.