by Sydney Allan
Then she felt him flinch and she turned slightly to look at his face. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing. I should be retiring."
Retiring? Was he ending their date already? Had she done something wrong? She'd expected so much more...like sex. After all the flirting and sexy talk, the kiss...was he all talk? "Now?"
"Yes. Thank you for a wonderful evening." He eased her around with gentle pressure on her shoulders.
"Yeah. Thank you, too. It was very nice. And thanks for the gifts. But don't you think we could maybe take it downstairs...?"
He lowered his head, clearly intending to kiss her, and she tipped hers up, fully intending to convince him that it was much too soon to be going to bed–at least going to bed alone.
The soft brush over her lips hardly qualified as a kiss. Afterward, he didn't stick close enough for her to grab him and give him a better kiss.
"Not tonight. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but this is not a good time." He gathered her jewels and handed them to her, then took her hand in his and walked toward the doorway that led downstairs.
Confused and horny, and wishing she had thought to pack her vibrator, she followed him.
He walked her to her room, opened her door, and whispered, "Good night, my lady." And he left her.
Chapter Five
Kath was dreaming. Dreaming of pirates, of sinister plots of revenge, of treasures and battles waged on open seas. Gravely voices whispered in her ears.
Her eyes fluttered open, yet she saw nothing in the darkness. As she strained to make out the shapes of the deepest shadows from the rest of the darkness, she became aware of one thing: she hadn't been dreaming. Deep, brusque voices spoke in whispers, not far from her bed.
She slowly turned her head to try to distinguish from where the voices were coming.
Outside? But how? Were there still pirates on the Caribbean? Modern day pirates with automatic guns and high-speed boats? Did they sneak aboard luxury yachts and steal valuables?
Was Morgan aware of the unwelcome visitors?
Terrified, her skin prickly, her ears tuned to the voices and soft but discernable thumps and bumps, she scurried from bed, wrapped the coverlet around herself, and hurried toward Morgan's room at the opposite end of the boat.
Thankfully, she encountered no one out of the ordinary on the way. When she reached his door, she was careful to knock very softly so she wouldn’t alert their visitors.
When he didn't answer, no doubt because she'd been so careful to make as little noise as possible, she tried the door. It was unlocked.
She slipped inside, shut the door behind her, and tiptoed to the bed. She followed the sound of his deep, even breathing to his bed, then poked what she hoped was a shoulder. She felt skin under her fingertip and hoped he was sleeping in the nude.
"Yes, Kath? What is it, Little One? Have you changed your mind?" Strong fingers curled around her wrist.
"Me, change my mind? What're you talking about, Captain? I wanted to. It was you who didn't. Remember?"
"Oh yes, that's right," he said on a sigh. "What brings you to my quarters at this hour?"
A light flipped on unexpectedly, and her dark-adjusted eyes strained. She squinted and blinked until slowly his unclothed torso came into focus. That sight alone was worth the momentary eyestrain. "I'm here because I heard voices outside my room."
"Voices?" He didn't look worried but he didn't look at ease either. He crossed his thick arms over a suntanned, smooth-skinned chest that just couldn't be any sexier. "What kind of voices? Could you hear what they were saying?"
"Not exactly. They were gruff, gravely. Whispers, really. And I heard thumping, like someone was climbing onto the boat. I know I probably sound silly, but there aren't modern-day pirates out here, are there?"
"No." Without standing, he reached around her and pulled a tank shirt off of the nightstand. It was quite a sight watching him put it on. The things chest, shoulder, and arm muscles did when flexed. Yummy. It almost made her forget about the pirates–or whatever they were–she'd heard. "Let's go check it out." He stood to reveal a loose pair of shorts and long, muscular legs and walked toward the door.
Kath followed him. "Shouldn't you be armed with something? A stun gun? Or even a knife? I don't believe in guns."
"I have everything I need."
"Where? Can't be a whole lot of room in those shorts," she whispered, zeroing in on his butt. It was nice. Round. Firm.
What was she doing staring at his butt now? Ack! Chastising herself, she forced her gaze elsewhere as they quietly walked upstairs and through the living room.
He turned and pressed his forefinger to his lips, indicating she needed to be very quiet. She nodded in understanding. Then, his head swiveling to and fro as he looked for an attacker, he continued out onto the deck.
He checked over one side of the boat, continued up around the front, then down the other side. Then he went to the back and checked things out there. Periodically, he squatted and felt the surface of the deck with his fingers.
He looked in the cockpit or whatever it was called at the rear of the boat and asked Stella the co-pilot or whatever she was if she'd heard or seen anything out of the ordinary. She said no.
Finally, they returned to where they'd started, at the opening to the living room.
"I see no signs of intruders," Morgan said.
She walked to the edge of the deck and looked out over the still, dark water. "I know I heard something."
"I believe you. Perhaps we passed another boat. Or someone was playing the radio or television. It's hard to say what it might have been." He rested one hand on each of her shoulders and, unable to stop herself, she leaned back into his bulk. "But I believe we're safe. You have nothing to worry about." His fingers kneaded the tight muscles of her shoulders and neck.
It was no easy thing concentrating on the conversation, with what his hands were doing and the lingering effects of the wine she'd had earlier. It had been ages since she'd drunk alcohol or had a back rub, and never from such a strong, sexy man. Lost in contentment, her eyes closed, a soft breeze carrying the scent of the sea to her nose, she sighed. "Can I ask you--we've been traveling all day but I haven't seen any land yet. Were we pushed that far out to sea?"
"The storm blew us off course, yes."
"Will we have enough fuel to reach land?" she asked, less concerned than she figured she should be.
"I believe so. Yes." With gentle pressure from his hands, he gently urged her to turn around and gazed down into her eyes. "These aren't your worries." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her tightly against his bulk. She couldn't help tucking her shoulder in and snaking an arm around his waist.
It felt so reassuring and warm and wonderful being so close to him. "I must look like a silly, fearful little girl, waking you in the middle of the night, staggering drunk, yammering about voices, freaking out over the smallest thing. I swear I'm not usually so pathetic."
"Your fears were well founded and I’m glad you came and woke me. If you'd been right–and there was no way of knowing without checking–we could have been robbed, or worse. No one can ever say it isn't possible. If it can happen on a city street it can happen here."
"Thank you for not laughing and teasing me."
"There's no reason for either." He led her inside and toward the stairs. "Shall I walk you back to your room?"
"Sure. Thanks." She enjoyed his silent but powerful presence as she returned to her room. He waited until she was snuggled safely in her bed before he left. To her disappointment, he made no move to seduce her, merely gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead before leaving.
Minutes after he left, she lay in the dark room, listening to each sound, each thump, bump or rattle, wondering if whoever she'd heard hadn't already gotten on board and was hiding somewhere.
When she was fairly certain there were no pirates stowed under her bed–God, she sounded like a baby!–she allowed herself to doze off.
That was when, in that strange world between wakefulness and sleep, she heard the voices again. Deep, gravely, mocking, laughing.
"We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot. Drink up, me 'earties yo ho!" the voices sang.
"What the hell?" Her heart thumping in her ears, she sat bolt upright and reached for the light. "Who's there?" Stone cold sober now, she flipped on the lamp and looked around.
Distant laughter reached her ears and she tried to silence her breathing to listen.
"We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot. Drink up, me 'earties yo ho!" the voices continued. They had a deep, eerie, echoey sound to them, as if they were far away in the distance. "Yo ho, yo ho. A pirate's life for me..."
Little tremors of fear skipped down her spine and out over her limbs. In a single beat of her heart, she was out of bed, wrapped protectively in the blanket and dashing for the door.
Then she stopped dead in her tracks. Duh! It was a TV somewhere. A movie. That had to be it. Feeling foolish for overreacting once again, but grateful that she hadn't gotten as far as Morgan's room this time, she laughed at her own stupidity, and returned to her bed.
The singing had stopped and the voices were talking softly. To make herself feel better, she lay for a few minutes and listened, trying to make out some of the conversation to see if she could determine what movie it was. Although the pirate song they'd been singing was in her favorite movie, she didn't remember anyone but the little girl singing it at the very beginning of the film.
A different pirate movie?
She really had to strain to make out what the voices were saying. For one, they were still very quiet. For another, they spoke with a heavy accent.
"I will see that mutineer hang for what he's done. Morgan Hawk will not live to see another sunrise...lived an eternity in darkness to see this night. He is close. I can smell him," growled a louder voice.
It couldn't be a movie, unless Morgan had borrowed his name from some old, forgotten pirate film. But if he did that, then a whole new set of questions arose. The biggest: why would he take on an assumed name?"
A loud thump sounded on the other side of the wall at the head of her bed, and the picture hanging there slid down and landed with a crash on the headboard. Not bothering to second-guess herself this time, she dashed out of the room and down to Morgan's. She knocked.
"Yes?" Morgan answered.
When Kath opened the door, she saw his light was on. He was sitting in his bed. A book lay across his lap, her pirate romance novel. How did he get his hands on that? He grinned. "I see you've changed your mind after all." His smiled faded quickly when she didn't correct him again. "What's wrong?"
Breathless from fright and unable to stop quaking, she said, "Your name. They said your name, Morgan Hawk."
"Who?" He set the book on the nightstand, stood, gripped her hands in his, and pulled her toward the bed.
"The voices. The ugly, nasty pirates' voices I keep hearing. They said you won't live to see another sunrise."
He coaxed her to sit but she resisted.
"Shouldn't you be out there checking?" she asked. "Are you just going to sit here and wait for them to find you? They're on the boat. Somewhere."
"We've already looked everywhere. There aren't any pirates on board. I'm sure you're just hearing Stella's television. She's probably watching a movie."
"With a character who shares your name? Isn't it a strange coincidence?"
"Not considering the fact that my mother loved old pirate films and named me after her favorite movie character." He stood and walked toward the door. "But if it'll set you at ease, we can go check again. We can search every corner if you like."
"Your mother named you after a pirate?"
He nodded. "From the movie Cursed Vengeance. Legend has it there was a real pirate named Morgan Hawk. He was the Quartermaster of the legendary Hades' Revenge, a pirate ship. He led a mutiny against the captain, the renown Dirke Davies. Davies was not a good captain. He made foolish decisions based on greed that nearly cost the entire crew their lives. Hawk, being selfless, conceded to leading the mutiny, at the request of the crew. But just as he was about to succeed, some of the men had a change of heart. Hawk escaped with his life, and it is said the captain died with vengeance so heavy on his heart it would not allow him to rest, even in death." He walked out into the narrow corridor linking the staterooms and knocked on a nearby door. "He is said to be haunting the Caribbean Sea to this day."
"That's quite a story. I don't understand why your mother would name you after that man."
"You haven't watched the movie." He winked. "Johnny Curtis played Hawk."
She chuckled. "I see."
Stella's voice sounded from the other side of the door. "Yes?"
"Morgan here. Were you watching television by any chance? Our guest Kath says she's hearing voices."
"Yes, Captain, I was. Watching an old movie."
With a satisfied nod to Kath, Morgan said, "Very well. Thank you and sorry for the interruption." He took Kath's hand and led her in the direction of her room but she stopped short and shook her head.
"But Stella's room is so far from mine. How could I hear her television when I couldn't even hear it right outside the door?"
"She probably shut it off."
Something didn't add up, and even though Morgan's explanation was logical, it still didn't answer all her questions. Why was she able to hear Stella's television tonight when she hadn't any other night? Maybe she'd look like a baby, but there was no way in heck she was going back to that room until her doubts were assuaged. "Can we go back to your room instead? I'm not trying to be a baby, but I'd like some company for a while."
"Absolutely." He turned around and led her toward his room.
"Thank you for being so understanding." Then another explanation came to mind and she dug her heels into the thin pile carpet. "Wait a minute! Oh, I get it. The joke's on me. You arranged this."
"Arranged what?"
"You wanted me to be scared so you could invite me back to your room and take advantage of me..." That didn't make any sense, even to herself.
"Have I done anything to make you believe that? I have had plenty of opportunities to seduce you, as you well know. Yet I've resisted."
"That you have. But nothing else makes sense, unless you have a nasty sense of humor and enjoy getting your kicks out of scaring us lowly land-lovers."
"Landlubbers."
"Whatever." She fisted the thin cotton of his shirt. "Please tell me it's a joke. That you hid speakers in my room so I'd hear voices and get scared. You can tell me the truth. Heck, I'd be happy to laugh right along with you." She motioned down to the sheet, wrapped toga-like, barely covering her body. "Look how silly I've been tonight, streaking around the boat in my undies, screaming about pirates. To think I figured I wouldn't need pj's for this voyage..." She chuckled–until he didn't join in her laughter. "Let me guess, I'm wrong. Uh, about the practical joke. I know I'm right about the pajamas."
"It's not a joke. And as far as I know there are no hidden speakers in your room." He motioned to her to precede him into his room.
"I was afraid you'd say that, although I was hoping..." She sat on the bed. "I swear I'm not usually such a whiny ninny, jumping at the smallest sound. There's something about this boat–or maybe it's the water–I don't know. I feel like there are people watching us. I swear I'm going insane."
"I don't believe you're going mad. You just need to relax and trust me. I promise I won't let anything happen to you." He handed her a sweatshirt, then sat next to her and looked deep into her eyes. As she slipped the sweatshirt on and continued to hold his gaze, she felt her fear melting away.
How could she fear anything when facing it with this man at her side? For the first time since she'd stopped playing with Barbie dolls, she felt like she could completely trust a man. Morgan Hawk wasn't her father, a man who later proved to be less than trustworthy. He was more.
Regardless of the fac
t that she'd known him such a short time, she was sure he was a man of solid principles. A man who would do anything to keep her safe. A man who would risk his life for her.
There was no saying how she knew these things. It wasn't like she'd seen him in action, defending her against some giant killer squid or anything. All he'd done was drive them out of a small storm. But for some reason, she just knew.
It was one of those things that simply defied logic.
* * *
He wasn't lying to her, not exactly. If there was one sin he never committed, it was to lie. Especially to a woman. He might be a lot of things–a thief, a rogue, a confessed lawless scoundrel–but he was not a liar.
Contrary to popular opinion, he, Morgan Hawk, had morals.
He gazed into Kath's beautiful wide eyes. They spoke of such delectable innocence he'd been hard pressed to keep her from his bed since the moment he'd first gazed upon them. Yet that same innocence, that same vulnerability–not particularly well hidden beneath a veil of smart comebacks and bad jokes–had ignited something much deeper than the usual lusty thoughts. He felt a sense of responsibility for her, a protectiveness he'd never experienced before.
Dammit, if only he'd insisted they either delay their departure or change their itinerary, he wouldn't be facing the problem he was now. For years he'd anticipated this moment, imagined what he'd do when he finally met the man responsible for his unexpected travel to this world. Yet, it had to be this journey that brought him face to face with his enemy. The fates had made sure he wouldn't be given the chance to act upon his lust for vengeance, at least not without paying a dear price.
It was a woman stopping him! He couldn't put Kath in harm's way, at least not intentionally.
Thus, since the night of the storm he'd been engaged in a game of cat and mouse. That had not been a normal squall. He'd known it instantly, based on the strange vivid blue lightning and how quickly the violent storm had appeared out of nowhere to overtake their boat. That strange storm had brought a visitor with it, a wicked visitor from the past.