You will know it when it comes—do not flee—use understanding and forgiveness—love— The words echoed in his head, refusing him peace.
Wheeling Titan about, Reed set a course for home, his thoughts flying faster than the stallion’s hoofs. One fact alone stood out clearly, above all else. He loved Kathleen. His life would be worthless without her. She often infuriated him; she frustrated and irritated and harassed him time and again. But she also charmed him, beguiled him, enchanted him as no other woman on earth could do. She was as changeable as the weather; as mischievous as a leprechaun; as tempting as a sea siren—a proud, loyal, rare beauty.
Loyal— the word struck him like a blow. It was one of Kathleen’s fiercest virtues, an integral part of her. Once she gave her word, she kept it. She defended her children like a lioness. She was true to herself and those she cared about. A promise from Kathleen was worth more than gold. Now Reed, asked himself, would a woman like that carelessly disregard her marriage vows? If Kathleen had held any hope of his survival, could she have yielded to Jean’s charms? When she and the others had told him of her grief upon being convinced of his death, he had thought perhaps Kathleen had fooled them all with a tremendously good job of acting. He, of all people, knew what a superb actress she could be when she wanted. He desperately needed to know if she had truly grieved for him deep in her heart. With this thought in mind, Reed changed course, heading toward Savannah rather than Emerald Hill. He knew now where to find some of the answers.
It took him till almost dawn to reach the Starbright and the item he sought—the Emerald Enchantress’s logbook. Despite his weariness, he opened it to the date of his disappearance. A few pages later, he started reading Finley’s account of Kathleen’s reaction to news of his death. He read of her pain, of her disbelief, of her immediate decision to search for him.
The following entries were Kathleen’s, detailing the journey south and the search of the first islands and the waters near where Captain Guthrie had said the storm had hit. Beneath the nautical terms and succint wording ran an underlying current of desperation that Reed knew he was not imagining. At last, he came to the time she arrived at Grande Terre and asked the Lafitte brothers for their help. This date, and those of the immediately initiated search, told him how anxious Kathleen had been to find him. Reed could sense Kathleen’s despair as each day failed to produce any sign of the Kat-Ann.
Kathleen’s outrageous description of Gasparilla made him laugh. Then came her account of discovering the sunken remains of the Kat-Ann. The page was so tear-stained as to be nearly indecipherable.
Reed ran a trembling hand across the blurred page, feeling Kathleen’s agony as he touched the evidence of her tears. A lump rose in his own throat at the pain she had endured.
Quickly, Reed turned the page, to find a separate sheet of paper folded and tucked into the logbook. From this, Reed learned of Kathleen’s attempt to drown herself in grief. It was an unofficial entry—a personal soul-baring on Kathleen’s part. Tears rolled down Reed’s face as he read her pain-racked thoughts and absolute despair.
There was a gap of three months, during which Kathleen had returned to Chimera. The account began again in January 1814, when Kathleen had once again disguised herself as Emerald, on a bloody mission of revenge. The number of vessels she attacked and won amazed him‚ and he could well imagine the haughty, bold image she had projected; but he also read between the lines and felt her deep anguish, her disregard for her own life, and her rage at fate for having stolen her beloved husband.
With a jolt, Reed realized he had reached an entry dated mid-February, and Kathleen was still writing of vengeance and describing daring exploits that made Reed catch his breath at the reckless chances she took with her own life. This passage had been written a mere three months before his miraculous reappearance, and Kathleen was still grieving for him. What a fool he had been to think she had not cared enough! From what he had just read, he now knew she had mourned him more deeply than she could ever convey, far longer than he would have wished her to bear such a burden of sorrow.
Quickly, he scanned the remaining entries, to the date of his return. Here, he sensed a healing. In a strange way, perhaps he owed Jean a debt of gratitude for helping Kathleen to recover from her loss—strange because it was still a possibility that Jean had fathered Erin.
This brought Reed full circle in his thoughts, and he closed the logbook and leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh. Since he had already admitted to himself that he loved Kathleen to distraction, and needed her with a deep desperation, there were now only Jean and Erin to consider.
Jean had gone out of their lives forever. If Kathleen had been Jean’s lover, she had gone to his bed in the firm belief that she was a widow, having mourned her husband deeply before turning to the comfort of another man’s arms. Though it still cut Reed deeply to think of it, he could now see that all hope of his survival had died in Kathleen's heart, as well as Jean’s. They had both honestly believed him to be dead. With an overwhelming sense of relief, Reed let the jealous hatred and anger flow from him, as tears wet his cheeks and blurred his vision.
Finally, he thought of Erin, that tiny, innocent bundle. Could he live the rest of his life not knowing if he was her real father? Did it really matter who was responsible for her conception? Would he not be the one to raise her, to provide for her, to see to her upbringing? Wasn’t that what being a father was truly all about? To protect her, to guide her—and yes, to love her? Erin was a tiny replica of Kathleen, his wife, whom he loved more than life itself. She would grow to be more like Kathleen with each passing year; and with the passage of time, perhaps his doubts concerning her would fade and die.
With fervent determination, Reed decided then and there to give Erin the same loving attention as he did Katlin and Andrea. He would treat her as though she were his own, for she was a sweet little thing, no way deserving of his rejection. He would enjoy watching her grow into a beautiful young lady, with Kathleen’s copper tresses and brilliant green eyes . . . and perhaps her mother’s unpredictable temper as well.
His decision made at long last, Reed sank wearily to the bunk. When he had rested, he would head directly back to Emerald Hill, and if need be, beg Kathleen on his knees to forgive him for his stubborn, pig-headed stupidity. He resolved to do everything in his power to make up to Kathleen for all the hurt he had caused her, and to convince her of how very much he loved and needed her.
Deep in his own thoughts, Reed had passed Chimera the following morning before he became aware of the strong smell of smoke in the air. Quickly scanning the countryside, his heart nearly stopped in his chest as he saw thick black smoke rising in the air from the direction of Emerald Hill. With the acrid taste of fear in his mouth, Reed urged Titan into a gallop.
As he rounded the last bend to Emerald Hill, Reed gasped at the sight that met his eyes. The entire house was engulfed in flames. Several people stood on the front lawn, but he was still too far away to identify them.
Drawing closer, he saw Kathleen being forcibly restrained by two servants, as she struggled to break free of them. Her face was contorted in intense agony, and it was plain to see she wanted desperately to enter the burning building. With relief Reed saw Katlin and Andrea safely enfolded in the capable arms of Della. It was only then that Reed noticed the absence of Isabel—and baby Erin. With a groan of dismay, he rushed to his wife’s side.
Kathleen was beside herself, shrieking and screaming and crying hysterically, “My baby! My baby! Oh, God! My baby!”
It was a wonder she was capable of recognizing him, but she did. “Reed!” she screamed. “Please!”
As Reed neared the cluster of people, he saw three men dragging Dominique from the house. Over Kathleen's terrified screams, he heard one of them shout, “He’s alive! A beam knocked him out cold, is all!”
Rushing up to the men, Reed asked urgently, “What room were Isabel and the baby in?”
“Upstairs nursery!” one man choke
d.
Without thought for his own safety, Reed took a deep breath and plunged into the flaming house. There was only one thought in his mind—to save the child and Isabel.
To Kathleen, every moment seemed an eternity, as she prayed and wept and struggled against her captors. Near collapse from shock, she almost fainted as part of the roof collapsed with a roar. A deep groan of grief was torn from her throat as she realized it would take a miracle for anyone to survive that blazing inferno.
Then, just when everyone had given up all hope, Reed came stumbling through the billowing smoke, Isabel clutched in his arms. Kathleen’s frantic gaze searched in vain for Erin’s tiny form. It was not until Reed laid Isabel gently on the grass, that Kathleen saw the small body wrapped in a scorched shawl, held close to Isabel’s breast. Freed at last, she flew to their side, terror clutching her heart.
Reed, scorched and blackened, his clothes still smouldering, was on his knees next to Isabel and the baby, gasping great gulps of air. Isabel choked, and went promptly into a fierce spasm of coughing. At the very moment Kathleen reached them, Reed became chillingly aware that the infant had not moved at all. Reed snatched the child from Isabel’s arms.
Wild-eyed Kathleen shrieked, “Give me my baby! Reed! Give me my baby!”
Behind her, someone murmured, “Thet chile is daid.’’
“No!” Kathleen screamed in anguished denial. “No! I won’t let her die!’’ She reached out to grab Erin from Reed, but strong arms again restrained her.
Instinct alone drove Reed to place his mouth upon Erin’s tiny rosebud lips, forcing his breath into the infant’s mouth and lungs. The baby’s chest rose, and then dropped. Again, and still again, Reed breathed his own life into Erin’s still form, as the others stared at him in dazed wonder.
“Reed! What are you doing?” Kathleen raged, unable to understand anything beyond the terror that held her mindless in its grip.
“Lord A’mighty! Dat poor man done lost his mind!” Della moaned in stunned grief. “He’s tryin' to gibe life back to dat poor daid babe!”
Then, as if God had finally heard their prayers, Erin coughed. Miraculously, she coughed again and again. Reed clutched her to his chest in stupified disbelief. Tears streamed unheeded down his face as he raised his smoke-bleared eyes in grateful thanks toward heaven.
With a cry of boundless joy, Kathleen fell to her knees beside him, reaching out once more for her infant daughter, desperate to hold her and believe the miracle she had just witnessed.
Reed handed Kathleen the baby, then knelt with his arms protectively surrounding both of them. Their tears blended, as their heads bent together over the child, who was now lustily screaming. The piercing cries were music to their ears.
When he at last regained control, Reed choked out, “I was coming to tell you I love you, Kat, and Erin, too. Maybe after all that has happened, you won’t believe me, but I ask you to forgive me and love me again.”
Kathleen’s heart swelled with love at his words, and she raised a grimy, tear-stained face to meet his gaze. “Oh, Reed! I have never stopped loving you!” He drew her close to his thundering heart, and she whispered wondrously, “You saved Erin’s life—I will never forget that, even if you never accept her as your own.”
“Oh, Kat! She is my own now,” Reed murmured. “If she doesn’t have one drop of my blood, she carries my life’s breath within her from this day forward. After already deciding to love her because she is a part of you, now I love her doubly because she is a part of me, too!”
“It is truly a day of miracles!” Kathleen sighed happily, resting her weary head on her husband’s broad shoulder.
She was right. No one had died in the terrible fire. Dominique had a large lump on his head, and Isabel was still recovering from all the smoke she had inhaled, but they would both be fine. The stables were far from the house and there had been no wind to carry embers toward it, so the horses had sustained no injury. Katlin and Andrea were soon safely tucked into their beds at Chimera, and Erin was snug in a cradle, breathing easily under Della’s watchful eye. The Taylor family were all safe, alive, and thankful for the gift of life this day.
In their own big bed in the master bedroom at Chimera, Kathleen gazed lovingly at her husband. His vivid blue eyes were brimming with emotion as his lips grazed hers. “If you are not too tired, I am longing to make love to you,” Reed whispered against her ripe mouth.
“I was hoping you would offer,” she teased.
“Shameless hussy!” he growled.
Then all playfulness was cast aside as husband and wife came together in true love once again. His mouth worshipped hers, and her lips opened to gladly receive the thrust of his tongue. With tender caresses and whispered words of love and longing, they stoked the embers of their desire, until the flames of ecstasy blazed out of control, engulfing them both. Their rapture sealed their hearts and souls together, even as their passion-heated bodies united in tenderness; and their lives were forged together in a bond neither man nor death could ever separate.
Afterward, Kathleen lay curled tightly to his side, her head cradled on his chest over his heart. She sighed blissfully.
“I love you, kitten,” Reed murmured against her hair, “more than I can ever begin to tell you.”
“I love you, too, darling,” Kathleen whispered in return, “forever and always, with all my heart.”
This day, from the ashes of their dying love, the fiery flames of ecstasy had risen anew, brighter, stronger, more abundant than ever—a blazing flame that would burn eternally, and warm them for the rest of their lives.
Catherine Hart is a native of Ohio, wife, mother of three, and proud grandmother. She has authored twenty books, eighteen full novels and two novellas, many of which have won awards. Reading and writing have been her passion for most of her life, and she credits her love of books and learning to her parents, who introduced her to reading at an early age, and to extraordinary teachers who furthered her search for knowledge. She also enjoys puzzles of all sorts—sudoku, crosswords, and jigsaw puzzles—and traveling, having visited all but a few of the U.S. states, including Alaska. These days, she most enjoys watching sunsets from her lakeview home with her beloved husband of 47 years.
Titles by Catherine Hart
Native American series
Silken Savage
Summer Storm
Night Flame
Frontier series
Forever Gold
Fallen Angel
Single Titles
Fire and Ice
Ashes and Ecstasy
Satin and Steel
Sweet Fury
Tempest
Temptation
Splendor
Irresistible
Dazzled
Mischief
Charmed
Horizons
Impulsive
Continue reading to enjoy an excerpt from Charmed by Catherine Hart, on sale November 2018.
CHARMED
Chapter One
1813—A cave in southern Ohio
As Silver Thorn made the final preparations for the ancient ritual he was about to attempt, he smiled in hopeful anticipation. If this spell worked as it should, it would be a spectacular coup indeed—much grander than either of his brothers had achieved. Not that he was in any sort of intense rivalry with Tecumseh or Tenskwatawa, but each of the men had always enjoyed trying to best the others’ latest accomplishments in ways only these three could aspire to.
From the very beginning, the brothers had been set apart and above others by the unique circumstance of their birth, for they were the sole set of triplets born in all of Shawnee history. As if this were not phenomenal enough, each had been blessed with mystical powers the likes of which had never before been witnessed, at least not in such abundance. All three could perform diverse magical feats and were able to foresee events of the future to varying degrees. Some moons past, Tecumseh, the firstborn of the trio, had predicted the passing of a shooti
ng star such as the one that had streaked through the sky on the very night of their birth. And last year, Tecumseh had caused a great quaking of the earth which had been felt from Canada to Florida, from the eastern shores to west of the Mississippi River. Likewise, Tenskwatawa, more recently known as the Prophet, had claimed credit for a total eclipse of the sun, though he had simply foreseen the occurrence in a dream and used it to enhance his own importance.
By contrast to his celebrated brothers, Silver Thorn was much more modest about his curious accomplishments, though no less serious in his endeavors. Still, he thrived on the friendly competitiveness which he and his siblings had shared since boyhood, a natural contest of powers which had served to hone their unusual skills to a keen edge over the past forty-five years. Now he was about to commence the most difficult task he’d ever set for himself, that of calling upon a spirit from the far future to gain a glimpse of what would become of his people. Heretofore, neither he nor his brothers had been able to predict any event beyond their own lifespans, but Silver Thorn was sure it could be done and that he could be the one to do so.
Kneeling before the small fire he’d built, Silver Thorn carefully retrieved a clay mold from the coals. Within its earthen boundaries, molten silver rippled and gleamed, reflecting the exact color of Silver Thorn’s eyes—yet another oddity of his birth. Blowing gently upon the steaming mass, Silver Thorn began to chant an ancient incantation. Softly. Reverently. Pushing aside all concerns of the world outside the cave and focusing all his thoughts and energies on becoming one with his inner powers.
When the mold had cooled sufficiently, he broke the clay away, taking care not to disturb the still-malleable disc of ore. To further solidify it, he slid the silver into a pail of water, icy cold from the stream that ran through the heart of the cavern. A short time later, he plucked the charm from the water and attached it to a leather thong. Then, with a special concoction he’d prepared, he meticulously polished the coin-shaped medallion to a brilliant sheen. One side was perfectly flat and mirror-smooth. The other was graven with concentric rings, one within another, signifying life and time to infinity. Imbedded crosswise in this design, overlaying the bands, was the image of a feather, the symbol of power.
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