Looking for a Hero (23 page)

A smile crossed his face.

Turning her against you, Black Heart, could never be as pleasant as taking her from you
.

I will enjoy watching you suffer when the woman and child are gone—for good
.

 

Kate stomped on the toe of Morgan's boot as if that one small action could tear him away from her lips. Kissing her was all he'd thought of since she'd left him on the ship. 'Twould not be easy for her to push him away.

She struggled, but still he feasted on the sweetness of her mouth. Her tongue danced with his in spite of the fight the rest of her body was waging.

And then he felt her hand skimming over his chest, across his belt, inching ever closer to the part of him that had ached with need since she'd left him yesterday morn.

Softly she cupped him, her fingers slipping about his balls as the rest of him stretched and I strained from her caress.

She tightened her hold.

Tighter.

Tighter.

“Let go of me,” she cursed against his lips, “or I will twist the living daylights out of those jewels you carry so proudly between your legs.”

“Damn it, Kate!” he groaned, backing an arm's length away. Still her clenched fingers remained steadfast.

“Don't ‘damn it' me, Morgan Farrell. What the hell are you doing here, and what were you doing hiding in my backyard earlier tonight?”

Across the parlor, Morgan could hear the swing of the kitchen door, heard the shuffle of Evalena's slippers, heard a gasp and then a giggle.

“It appears you two are doing just fine without me. Why don't you pretend I never popped my head out of the kitchen?”

The door closed again, and all was silent except for the singer Evalena had spoken of so fondly, and the heavy, angered breathing of the woman still clutching what she thought of as his jewels.

He attempted to grin, but her fingers tightened again. Not enough to do any permanent damage, but enough to let him know that she considered herself in charge at the moment.

“I'm waiting for an answer.”

“In my agony, dearest Kate, I believe I forgot the question.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“'Twas an urgent need to see you, to talk to you, to make you see that I am not the murderer you think I am, although now I'm beginning to wonder at the sanity of my action.”

“I already changed my mind about you being a murderer—in this century, that is. Call me crazy, because I've got all this evidence against you, but I just can't believe it.”

“'Tis good to hear, madam, but could we continue this discussion without you holding that part of my anatomy I value so richly?”

He received his answer with another light squeeze that made his shaft grow ever harder against the fabric of his pants. Damn her!

“You were saying, madam?”

“I'm going to say this very plainly, Mr. Farrell. I may not believe you're a murderer, but I think you're mean and awful. I don't like being hurt, and you've had a field day plucking up my emotions, tossing them high in the clouds, and then letting them smash down to the ground.”

“Could you speak plain English, madam?”

“All right. This is as plain as it gets. I will not let you kiss me again and then walk away from me.”

“Why?”

“It hurts, damn it!”

“Why?”

“Because…because…because it does!”

She jerked her hand away, and for the first time he could see the tears in her eyes.

She ran to the kitchen. “Come on, Case, we're going home.”

“Is Morgan going, too?”

“No. Maybe. I don't know.”

Morgan stood in silence as he watched Kate and Casey rush across the street. He saw Kate try the door which he'd locked when he'd left the house, then reach under the doormat, pull out a key, and let herself and Casey inside.

What a fool he was to let her leave him yet again.

“My goodness. Did something go wrong? A lover's quarrel, perhaps?” Evalena asked, peeking through the kitchen door.

“Nay. It has been a long week—a very long day, and Kate felt the need to sleep.” He feigned a yawn. “I myself am tired, so if you'll pardon me, madam, I will take my leave.”

Morgan backed away, offering Evalena a short, gentlemanly bow, then walked from the house.

He stood on the porch for the longest time, watching the light go on in Casey's room, then go off again. Moments later he saw Kate step out on her balcony and gaze off toward the ocean. He could almost hear her heart beating, the softness of her sigh. He imagined a tear sliding down her cheek, and he wanted to kiss it away. He wanted to hold her and comfort her—for the rest of his life.

He followed Kate's gaze toward the sea. Thunder and lightning were moving in, inching ever closer, sounding much like the storm that had come out of nowhere a week ago—shortly before he was swept into Kate's loving arms.

Wind beat against him while he looked at the clouds overhead, rolling and pitching like breaking waves. If he wanted to go home, this would be the night to do it.

Looking across the rooftops toward
Satan's Revenge
, he thought of the century he'd left behind, thought of what waited for him there.

Nothing
.

He looked at Kate again, at her honey-colored hair that glowed with each flash of lightning. The warmth he'd known since meeting her burned
deep within his chest, and brought peace and contentment to his soul.

He smiled as he looked at the woman he loved, and he knew where he wanted to go.

To Kate—for she was his home.

K
ate sat on the darkened balcony outside her bedroom, the perfect vantage point for looking at Morgan, who stood tall and majestic on Evalena's porch. She watched him gaze off in the direction of his ship, toward her house, then back to the ship again, and part of her wished he'd just go away. She didn't believe in forever. He might have said he would never leave again, but she found that too hard to believe. There were too many reasons for him to run away.

Two of those reasons rested in her hands—a dead man's wallet, and a dead man's wedding ring. They saddened her, made her want to cry
for the men who had died, for the doubt that still ripped away at her mind.

Had he murdered those men?

She couldn't trust her heart to answer that question. Her heart had told him earlier that she believed his innocence; her mind continually thought of the evidence that proved his guilt.

He looked again toward the east. The wind was strong, and it beat against his back, pushing him toward the sea, toward his ship. But he didn't go. Instead, he turned slowly, walked across the street, halfway up her walk, across her lawn, and leaned casually against a palm tree.

His long hair whipped about his face. His eyes almost sizzled as he looked at her.

“'Tis not a good night for a man to stand outside.”

Kate's gaze nonchalantly followed the movement of a palm frond as it flew down the street, and the rapid spinning of the weathervane on top of Evalena's roof, then finally settled on Morgan's mesmerizing eyes.

It was obvious that all he wanted was one more night of passion, one more night of lust that Kate could easily give him, because she had absolutely no control of her emotions when he was around. She only wished she could forget all her doubts and just enjoy the night—for surely it would be the last they'd ever share.

Tomorrow she could worry about all the rights and wrongs of her actions. Tomorrow she could suffer over losing him and nurse her broken heart.

She put the wallet and ring into her pocket and leaned close to the edge of the balcony. “No, I suppose it isn't a good night to be outside.” She looked across the street at the lights still on in her aunt's house. “I'm sure Evalena would lend you a couch.”

“'Tis your bed I prefer.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks.

“Casey's home.”

“She'll be asleep soon. I promise to be quiet.”

“I'm not interested in another one-night stand.”

“Neither am I.” He pushed away from the tree, his devilish grin serious now. “We must talk.”

“I'm listening.”

“Let me in, Kate. Either we speak in private, or I shout out for Evalena, Casey, and all your neighbors to hear.”

He left her no choice. “The door's unlocked.”

“You should keep them locked, Kate. 'Tis not safe in this town.”

“The only person I have to fear is you. You can either come up or go away—it doesn't matter.”

A bolt of lightning lit up the sky as well as the grin on Morgan's face when he moved toward the house.

She heard the heavy sound of his boots on the porch, on the stairs, in the hallway outside her room. He moved slowly across the hardwood floor, as if he needed time to think—or to plot his seduction.

Meeting him downstairs would have been the smart thing to do, but her intelligence was losing
a battle with her raging desire. On top of that, her legs refused to move.

A high-backed wicker chair angled toward her rocker. Morgan sat, stretching his long legs across the deck until they nearly touched her toes.

He belonged there, sitting at her side every morning drinking orange juice and coffee, reading the paper dressed in only his boxers.

He didn't belong to the past anymore. Didn't he realize that?

“What do you want to talk about?” she asked.

“You. Your husband. Your future.”

“Can you be a little more specific?”

“I need to know how deeply you loved your husband. If you love him still.”

She was silent a moment, remembering that day nearly twenty years ago when Joe had invited her outside to play ball. She remembered all the good times. She smiled softly when she looked at Morgan.

“I'll always love him,” she said. “I fell in love with Joe the moment we met. I was only eight, but right then and there I made up my mind to marry him. I never wanted anyone else.”

“'Tis a long time to love one man.”

“It wasn't nearly long enough.”

“Is it your wish never to love again?”

She looked away from his eyes, turning to see the lights going out at Evalena's.

“For the longest time I tried to live on memories—not just the good times, but the bad times, too. I thought I could keep him with me that way,
that memories of what we'd shared would be enough. I was afraid if I allowed someone else into my life, they'd make me forget all about Joe.” She stole a glance at Morgan. “I can't live on memories any longer.”

“Then you would consider marrying again?”

“I don't know. Maybe if I was madly in love.”

“Are you in love with anyone now?”

She shook her head. “No.”

He stood, and walked across the balcony until he disappeared behind her chair. He touched her hair, sweeping it away from her neck, and a shock as powerful as the lightning streaking across the sky skittered through her insides. His fingers curled around her shoulders. His breath was warm against her ear.

“You lie, madam,” he whispered. “Your body betrays you.”

“What makes you think you know so much about me?”

“Because you are as much a part of me as I am of you. Because even when we are separated, I feel your heart beating with mine.”

Kate laughed nervously. “Well, good. When you're back in seventeen-oh-two maybe you'll know how light my heart beats because it's not burdened by so much worry.”

“What do you worry about?”

She pulled away from his touch, from the warmth of his voice, the heat of his body. “What does it matter? You'll be leaving soon.”

He followed her through the bedroom, trapping
her in his arms before she reached the door. In spite of the control she heard in his voice, she felt the heavy beat of his heart against her back.

“I cannot go,” he whispered in the dark.” 'Tis impossible for me to leave when my heart is here with you.”

“You say that now, but how long will it be before you change your mind? Have you forgotten Thomas Low? What about that damned vengeance that's so important to you?”

He hesitated a moment, as if there were something he had to tell her, and then he smiled. “You are more important than Thomas Low or vengeance.”

If only she could believe that.

Her heart told her he was a good man, an honest man. Unfortunately, her brain continued to remind her that he'd been a pirate, a thief, a cutthroat, and heaven only knows what else in his own time.

If only the doubts she had about him could fly away on the wind raging outside.

She tried to pull out of his arms, but he held her far too tightly.

Turning in his embrace, she took a deep breath and said, “Tell me the truth, Morgan, and please don't make light of this any longer. Did you kill the coin dealer and the man by the ship?”

She could see the tension in his jaw. “Must we go through this yet again?”

“I have to know.”

“Do you trust me so little?”

She could neither nod nor shake her head because she had no answer.

The warmth in his eyes turned cold. Suddenly he let her go, brushing past her as he stomped heavily from the bedroom and down the stairs. She waited for the slam of the door, the sound of his boots on the porch and walk.

Instead, she heard only thunder.

Her fingers trailed lightly over the banister as she walked down the stairs. Morgan was sitting in the storyteller's chair, his angry gaze focused on her every move.

“Ask your questions, Kate,” he said much too coldly. “I will answer truthfully. Tis up to you, of course, to decide whether or not you wish to believe me. When we are through, I will ask you one question. I will expect the same honesty.”

She paced the dimly lit room, sweeping a tiny toy truck up from the floor. She spun the wheels and watched them turn around and around. Right now, she couldn't look into his eyes.

“The other night, when you saw
Satan's Revenge
on television, where did you go?”

“To the ship, madam,” he answered brusquely. “Going home 'twas the only thing on my mind.”

“Oh,” she said softly, then stole a glance at his eyes. She smiled weakly. “Casey and I weren't on your mind at all?”

“That question is irrelevant at the moment, Kate.”

“You're right,” she said. “Sorry.” She took a deep breath and continued her interrogation, realizing
she sounded more like Nikki than herself. “Okay, you went to your ship but something kept you from sailing away. Since you had nowhere else to go, you came back here. But you didn't do that until late the next afternoon. You weren't on the ship the whole time. What
did
you do?”

“I roamed your fair city. There was much I wanted to see, much I wanted to learn. Unfortunately, I did not find many people interested in conversing with a man attired as a pirate.”

“No one?”

“Only the haberdasher who sold me the clothes I wear now. He gladly took one gold doubloon in payment—an exorbitant price, I assure you—then suggested I see a coin dealer before I attempt any further purchases.”

She dropped the tiny truck she'd been playing with into a toy basket and continued her steady back-and-forth march across the room.

“So you went to see the coin dealer next?”

“No, madam, I returned to you.”

“Why?”

One dark eyebrow rose, and she half expected him to tell her that wasn't a relevant question. But it was, damn it!

“As much as the city intrigued me,” he said, “it was you I longed to see.”

She stopped her pacing, remembering the stories he'd told the children, the way he'd sung so beautifully, the way he'd made her headache go away. She looked up from the floor and smiled at Morgan.

“Did I ever tell you I was glad to see you?”

“No, madam. You did not. If you will recall, that is why I left again. I was angry, and quite tired of having to prove myself to you. I needed to get away and had nowhere else to go. That is why I went to see the coin dealer, and that is why you now think I'm a bloody murderer.”

“I have more reason than that.”

“As you said earlier tonight. My clothes. The gold doubloon.”

Kate put her hand in her pocket and pulled out the wallet and wedding ring. “I found these in your room. They belong to the cowboy.”

Morgan stared at her hands as she opened the wallet to show him the face of a man not yet sixty, a man with a wife, three grown children, and five grandchildren. “Did you kill him?”

“No.”

He rose from the chair and went to the window, looking out at the rain that had finally started to fall. “I would imagine that trusting me is difficult, considering what I have done in the past. But I would have you know that until my family was killed, I never entertained the notion of taking another life.”

“I believe you.”

“Then believe this too, Kate. I did not murder the cowboy or the coin dealer, but 'tis my belief you know the man who did.”

“Who?”

“The man who was here earlier tonight.”

Kate thought of Jack, and that was impossible.

Then she thought of the stranger in town, the man whose every word made her shiver. “Gordon Lancaster?”

“Is that what he's calling himself now? When last I saw him, he went by the name Thomas Low.”

Kate sank down in a chair. She should have known, should have suspected.

“He has come through time, Kate.”

She looked at Morgan and saw something close to fear in his eyes. “Is that why you decided to stay here?”

“I did not know Low was here until I saw him through your window. But he is not the one who makes me want to stay. You are the reason I am here. You are the only reason.”

She smiled, letting his words work their way to her heart. But thoughts of Thomas Low would not leave her. “What are you going to do about Low?”

“Kill him.”

“You can't. We should call Nikki and tell her. She can arrest him, put him on trial. He'll go to jail.”

“Jail?” Morgan's cynical laugh filled the room. “Once before I sought the help of the authorities, but 'twas a mistake to believe they would arrest the bastard. Little did I know that Low had long been filling their pockets with gold and jewels he'd plundered. I learned I could not trust the law. I learned that the only way I could get revenge was to go after Low myself.”

“But things are different now.”

“And I am a different man than the one who wanted Low to stand trial for what he'd done. Trust me, Kate, if I don't rid our world of Thomas Low, he will find a way to evade the law, and….”

“And what?”

“He will try to kill me, but he will take his time. He enjoys watching people suffer.” Morgan looked at the wallet and ring Kate had dropped on the coffee table. “I imagine he put those in my room.”

“How?”

“'Tis easy, Kate. You do not lock doors or windows. I imagine he sneaked in.”

Kate sighed at her foolishness, and started to rise, but Morgan put a hand on her arm.

“Where are you going?”

“To lock everything up. To make sure Low doesn't get inside…to hurt you.”

“I was here earlier. Everything is closed, locked. Low cannot get in without us hearing.”

“Then you're safe?”

“I am safe, Kate. But….”

“But what?”

“I do not worry for me.”