Sparhawk's Angel (24 page)

"Gr
â
ce
à
Dieu!"
cried Michel excitedly as he pointed to the familiar ship that lay directly before them. "It's the
Angel Lily
!"

"Why, so it is," agreed Lily, slipping the loop of her fan over her wrist. "I suppose that means it's past time I said my farewells."

"Damnation, Lily, wait!" Unable to resist the sight of his own ship, Nick looked briefly to her familiar outline on the water and then back to Lily. But the seat beside him was empty, and Michel was seizing his hand to congratulate him.

"
Vraiment
, Nickerson, you are the single most fortunate man I have ever known," he said with amazement and something close to outright awe. "I would not have believed it had I not seen it for myself. How all those other vessels were damaged, while we escaped unharmed." He shook his head with fresh wonder. "
Gr
â
ce
à
Dieu
, it comes perilously close to a miracle, eh,
mon fr
è
re
?"

Shyly Rose slipped her hand into Nick's, her little fingers twining familiarly with his.

"If you begin to believe in miracles,
monsieur
," she said as her gaze never left Nick's, her eyes bright with the unspoken secret they shared, "then next you may find yourself believing in angels and goodness knows what else."

Nick bent and kissed her then, unable to resist, and tasted the promise of the love and the future they'd share together.

Michel cleared his throat, and reluctantly Nick lifted his lips from Rose's. "I didn't know you'd fallen in with another ship, Nickerson," he said pointing to a privateering schooner with an American flag, sailing just beyond the
Angel Lily
. "But then you Rhode Islanders never cease to surprise me."

The schooner surprised Nick, too, until he realized it was the
Charity
from Bristol, the one vessel he knew in the entire thirteen states that could boast a clergyman for a captain, an Anglican minister who'd rebelled against his church as well as his king and gone to sea instead. But rebel or not, the man was known still to keep his hand in his former trade, baptizing the stray sailor or preaching a sermon if he felt the need.

Or performing marriages without bothering with banns or licenses. Doubtless that was what Lily had heard, anyway, to arrange it like this, and Nick laughed out loud from sheer joy. Why, he and Rose could be husband and wife before supper, leaving plenty of time for taking hot coffee with sugarcane and other such important duties for a captain and his wife.

He slipped his hand around her waist and drew her close. "I have another secret to share, Rosie love," he began, "one about the captain of that schooner."

But Rose wasn't listening, instead staring open-mouthed past him to the figurehead of the
Angel Lily
, rising high on the bow before them.

"I don't know how it can be, Nick," she said softly. "Or is this another one of your miracles?"

Slowly he lifted his gaze to follow hers. The gilt and paint were as bright
as ever, the gown fluttering gracefully and the fan spread above the perfectly
arched wrist. But by the clear light of the morning sun, there was no doubt at
all that the figurehead of Lily Everard was winking.

Aye, thought Nick as he winked back at it, he believed in miracles. He believed in true love and happiness and jolly babies in a yellow house in Newport, too, when it came right down to making declarations.

And angels, both ones with wings like Lily and those of the more earthbound variety like his own dearest Rose. Oh, aye, he'd always believe in angels.

Always.

^

MIRANDA JARRETT

was an award-winning designer and art director before turning to writing full-time, and considers herself sublimely fortunate to have a career that combines history and happy endings, even if it's one that's also made her family regular patrons of the local pizzeria. A descendant of early settlers in New England, she feels a special kinship with her popular fictional family, the Sparhawks of Rhode Island.

Miranda and her husband—a musician and songwriter—live near Philadelphia with their two young children and two old cats. During what passes for spare time she paints watercolor landscapes, bakes French chocolate cakes and whips up the occasional last-minute Halloween costume.

Miranda admits herself that it's hard to keep track of all the Sparhawk family members, and she has prepared a family tree to help, including which characters appear in each book. She loves to hear from readers, and if you write to her and enclose a self-addressed stamped envelope, she'll send you a copy of the family tree along with her reply. Her address: P.O. Box 1102, Paoli, PA 19301-1145.