Looking for a Hero (26 page)

Another bolt hit.

Another.

Morgan could hear
Satan's Revenge
groan as she split nearly in two.

Low screamed when the deck cracked beneath him, and Morgan managed to get his feet up to Low's chest. He pushed hard, sending his enemy crashing against the side of the ship.

Rising quickly, Morgan rushed toward Kate and Casey, but the flames and the ragged opening in the deck kept them apart.

Kate held a crying Casey in her arms. He saw the fear in her eyes as fire leapt between them. And then he cried out, “Jump. Please, Kate.”

“I'm afraid.”

“Don't be. Please. Say a prayer for all of us, and jump.”

“I don't want to leave you.”

He smiled, dragging in a deep breath. “I'll always be in your heart, Katie. Always.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Tears coursed down his cheeks.

Satan's Revenge
pitched. The crack in her deck widened.

“Jump!” he screamed, and watched with an aching heart as Kate and Casey disappeared over the side.

“They will die.”

He heard Low behind him, and when he turned, Low held his cutlass mere inches from Morgan's heart.

“As I always predicted, Low, we will die together.”

Low grinned, then lost his balance as
Satan's Revenge
broke apart.

Water rushed over the rapidly sinking deck. Morgan wrapped his arm through the rigging and grasped his own jewel-hilted cutlass as it slid past him on a wave of water.

Low rose, laughing like the devil himself. He raised his cutlass, making a crazed attempt to charge at Morgan.

Thunder rolled.

“Help me, Lord,” Morgan prayed—for himself, for Kate, for Casey.

Taking a deep breath, he heaved his cutlass at Low as lightning streaked across the sky. It hit the blade, and sparks skittered along the steel as it buried itself in the center of Low's chest.

Low's eyes widened, and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

Another bolt of lightning struck the blade, and Thomas Low faded before Morgan's eyes, then disappeared completely from sight, as if he'd been nothing but a nightmare.

Satan's Revenge
shimmered in the firelight. Lightning struck her figurehead, and just like Low, she started to fade.

Morgan struggled against the rigging that had captured his legs. Fire shot around him, burning everything that floated. He felt the heat at his feet, against his legs.

At last he broke free.

Satan's Revenge
made one last valiant attempt to
hold on to life. She groaned as Morgan worked his way to her splintered railing.

He said good-bye to the ship that had been his life for many a year. He said another good-bye to the man he'd been in another time, and dived for the open sea.

 

Kate fought the wind and waves, treading with all her might to keep her head and Casey's above the treacherous water.

“I'm scared, Mommy.”

“Me, too, Case. Me, too.”

Salt water rushed into her mouth, stinging her lungs, as she watched the fire leap from the mast on
Satan's Revenge
to the carved figure of a woman at her bow. She heard the crack and groan of wood as the ship ripped apart and made one last pitch toward heaven.

Suddenly
Satan's Revenge
shimmered like a mirage on a hot summer day. She glowed brightly, lighting the darkened sky, and then she disappeared—not under the water, but into thin air.

Tears raced down Kate's cheeks along with the rain and salt water. Her chest felt as if it would collapse—her heart had vanished along with the ship.

Morgan was gone. She'd never see him again.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you.”

Water bubbled about her. Something brushed against her feet, along her legs. It grasped her waist. Fear ripped through her at the thought that she might have gotten caught in some strange undertow,
or that Thomas Low had survived—to carry out his threats.

A head suddenly burst through the surging water. Long dark brown hair rose on the waves, and hypnotic blue eyes smiled at her as Morgan pulled her and Casey into his embrace.

He kissed her, breathing a new resolve to live into her heart.

The thunder ceased.

The lightning was swallowed up by the dark.

The clouds broke apart and flew away, leaving behind only the mid-morning sun.

And a rainbow arched over the suddenly calm waters of the Atlantic.

“Tis going to be a lovely day, madam,” Morgan said, kissing her trembling lips and Casey's forehead.

“Beautiful, I think. But what about Low?” she asked.

“Gone. He won't be hurting anyone in this century, or in any other.”

Kate kissed him softly, and he winced when she brushed her fingers over a gash on the side of his head.

“You're hurt. Oh, God. I forgot.”

“Tis nothing a good nurse—or preferably, a loving woman—cannot heal. I quite look forward to a few more days in bed, and your lovely face looking down at me as you shave my whiskers and soothe my burning brow.”

“Can I tell you more stories?” Casey asked.

“Aye.”

“Are you and Mommy going to get married now?”

“Aye. As soon as possible.”

Kate watched Morgan slip the emerald and diamond ring from his little finger and put it on her left hand, where it would always stay.

He kissed her softly, while they treaded water together.

Staying alive in the ocean, getting home again, were only two storms they'd have to weather in life. She knew there would be many more, because as Kate well knew, life was full of tough times. But she and Morgan would challenge those storms together.

Forever.

Off in the distance she heard the whir of an engine. A Coast Guard boat raced toward them. She'd prayed for help, and it was coming.

She'd prayed for Low to disappear, and he had.

She'd prayed with all her heart for Morgan to return, and he was holding her now—and always.

And she'd prayed for one more thing—for Nikki to be okay. Now, as the Coast Guard neared, she saw a pale, rather weak-looking blond slumped at the bow.

Kate smiled, and silently gave thanks for all her answered prayers.

She kissed her daughter, once, twice, half a dozen times.

She turned to Morgan, the pirate who'd become her hero.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“With no regrets?”

“None at all.”

He kissed her softly, right there in the middle of the calm Atlantic, and she knew that life couldn't be any more perfect.

M
organ pivoted, but his attempt to get away from the blade of his attacker was useless. He stepped back again and again as he tried to parry, tried to thrust, until his back slammed against a palm, and the tip of the foil rested victoriously over his heart.

Bloody hell! He'd trained his opponent far too well.

Casey shed her protective mask and grinned. “You're not quite as light on your feet as you used to be.”

“Ha!” Morgan tossed down his mask and
ripped off his vest. “I am just as light and just as fast as I've always been.” He leaned close to his daughter and whispered, “I was merely giving you the opportunity to impress that new boy friend of yours.”

“He already knows how good I am.” Casey winked, and Morgan felt a surge of fatherly protectiveness rise within him.

Bloody hell! He did not like being the parent of a sixteen-year-old girl who'd given up a portion of her love for pirates to the wanton pursuit of athletic young men.

What was a father to do with a girl like that? Casey dropped her vest in the sand and walked much too provocatively toward the tall, muscular blond who stared at her as if she were a sea witch who'd enchanted him with her charms.

Morgan forced himself to turn away. Twould do no good to lecture. Casey, like her mother, had a will of her own.

He strolled across the beach and squatted down in the sand beside his oldest son. This was someone who listened—always.

He was a damn fine storyteller, too. Just like his father.

“Thomas Low was the wickedest, most vile cut-throat ever to sail the seven seas,” Joseph said, relating his favorite tale, much to Morgan's chagrin. Many a time he'd asked Joseph to tell something else, but this story seemed his favorite.

Melody, Michael, and Matthew huddled in a
half-circle around their older brother, listening intently to every word he breathed.

“People everywhere were afraid of him,” Joseph continued. “Even the pirates who sailed with him thought he was mad. Suddenly Thomas Low disappeared. No one knew what had happened to him. No one really cared. Still, the people were frightened that he might come back and be far worse than he'd been before.” Joseph's voice lowered, and Morgan watched his three youngest children lean forward, straining to hear. “One day, the mean, horrid, awful pirate
did
come back.”

“What happened then?” Matthew asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.

“The people cheered.” Joseph grinned. “They threw parties in the street.”

“Why?” Michael asked.

“Because Thomas Low was dead. His foul, stinking body washed up on the beach with a jeweled cutlass running clean through the middle of it.”

Melody's lower lip quivered, and Morgan swept his three-year-old up in his arms before her tears could fall.

“Why don't you tell one of the fairy tales I taught you?” Morgan asked Joseph.

“Ah, those aren't any fun, Dad. We like the stories Casey tells us a whole lot better.”

He set a hand down on top his son's dark brown hair. “Exaggerations—all of them.”

Joseph raised one eyebrow, and damn if he
didn't see his own face staring back at him.

“Obviously you haven't read any of your own books lately,” Joseph stated. “Or maybe you exaggerated the truth so you could sell them. Some of those stories about Mack Heart did seem a little overdone. No pirate was ever that good.”

“He was the greatest, most honorable, gentlemanly pirate ever.”

“Impossible.”

“Must you argue with me?” Morgan asked.

“Aye.”

Joseph's lips angled into a grin, and Morgan laughed so loud he thankfully interrupted Casey's ardent flirtation.

He waved at his incorrigible daughter and her I boyfriend, only to suffer her most annoyed leave-me-alone frown.

Turning his attention back to his son, he plopped Melody in Joseph's lap. “Tell your brothers and sisters a fairy tale,” Morgan said firmly. “Your mother's not all that crazy about stories of pillage and plunder.”

“I've heard you telling Mom some real whoppers when you're alone at night. Casey says some times you even dress up like a pirate to entertain Mom. Gosh, Dad, there was even a pirate on top of your wedding cake.”

Morgan wasn't about to get involved in a discussion about the stories he told Kate late at night, or the fact that he quite often dressed up as a pirate, complete with eye patch. That was between him and Kate. Talking about something like that
could only lead to subjects he wasn't prepared to explain to Joseph or any of his children—not yet, anyway.

Instead, he ruffled his son's hair. “All right. Go ahead and tell a pirate story, but make sure it's about Black Heart, and make sure you don't embellish the truth.”

“Cool!” Joseph exclaimed, turning his attention to his brothers and sister.

Morgan rose from the sand, listening to Joseph's opening lines as he walked across the beach in search of his wife.

“Once upon a time there was a mean, swarthy-looking pirate named Black Heart, who had a big, ugly scar down the side of his face. In fact,” Joseph's voice lowered, “he looked just like Daddy.”

Morgan jerked around. His three youngest children were staring at him with wide-mouthed awe. Joseph winked.

Bloody hell! Had Casey told Joseph the truth?

Morgan looked at his adopted daughter, at her hands wrapped tightly about her boyfriend's neck. It was high time the two of them had a serious talk—and the sooner, the better.

Morgan shook his head in frustration and stalked toward the restored fortress he and Kate had shared as their second home for nearly ten years.

Kate—blessedly beautiful Kate—was sitting in the shade, reading a book. She looked up at him as he neared, and smiled.

“Bloody hell, Kate. You have raised five terribly hopeless children.”

“Yes, I'm sure their temperaments are all my fault.”

“Damn right.”

She'd given in far too easily. She was tired, he guessed, but she'd never admit it, never complain.

That was one of only a million reasons why he loved her so greatly.

He sat behind her, straddling her hips, and pulled her back against his chest, soaking up the warmth and love that had never waned—not for one second—between them. “These two,” he said, smoothing his hands over her swollen belly, “shall be mine to raise. They will be sweet, innocent, and totally in my power.”

“You said that the last four times. You're a good father, Morgan, but it's your children who have you under their control, not the other way around.”

“Tis true, I suppose. I often find it hard to believe I ever captained a ship, sailed the world, or…or did a lot of things I did. I have turned quite soft, I imagine.”

“You're anything but that.”

She leaned her head back, and he lowered his cheek to rest against her honey-colored hair.

“Do you ever miss any of it?” she asked softly.

“Nay. I have all and more than I ever desired. 'Tis a blessing that I traveled through time. The Lord smiled down on me that day.”

“I think Joe had a hand in it, too.”

“Why is that?”

“The night before the storm, he came to me in a dream. It's the last one I ever had about him. He asked me to go to the island. He said I'd find a treasure there.”

“But you didn't.”

“Oh, but you're wrong. I found the greatest treasure imaginable.” She turned in his arms and looked long and deep into his eyes. “I found you.”