Chapter 13 A Hero of Old
Caleb shook his head, baffled. He’d saved a lady from sure defilement, defended his honor and most likely his life from three miscreants, and now provided her with a meal and clean lodgings for the night.
One would think she’d swooning at his feet.
At least that’s what most women had done in the past with far less effort.
But this lady seemed anything but grateful as the tavern owner’s wife led them upstairs to the room he’d just paid for.
The landlady—as tall as she was wide with a thick French accent—opened the door, allowed them to enter, then set the candle atop a table. She muttered something about water for a bath being extra and mutton to break their fast served at six before she gave them both an incriminating stare and left.
“It isn’t much, but the sheets should be clean, and”—he moved to the basin on top of a chest of drawers and sniffed—“the water fresh.”
Desi stared at the bed, which was no more than a straw mattress on a wobbly cot. Yet she didn’t complain. She didn’t turn up her nose. She merely faced him and smiled. “It’s fine.”
He didn’t know about fine but it would suffice.
A breeze fluttered the gauze curtains, bringing in the scent of the sea and clamor of the town as the final rays of a setting sun set dust ablaze in the air.
“You’ll be safe here.” Caleb gripped the hilt of his blade, his fingers sore from his fight. “There’s a latch on the door.” He turned to show her, but she wasn’t looking.
“How did you do that?” She lowered to sit on the bed.
“To what do you refer?”
“Defeat those men so easily.”
“Not by myself. I had your help, remember?” He winked. The lady had proven she was no wilting flower. She had strength, quick thinking, and even though she had been clearly terrified, she’d acted with bravery against overwhelming odds.
She laughed. “Me? Help? No. Three against one. Not only did you defeat them, you made it look easy.”
“My father taught me. He and my grandfather are expert swordsmen.”
She nodded, running her hands over the coverlet. “So, I really am here.”
Words escaped Caleb. If she had come from the future, he couldn’t imagine what she was enduring, her terror and confusion. She released a shuddering breath, and he found himself longing to ease her pain, to wipe the sorrow creasing her lovely face.
But he held back. He had a weakness for the fairer sex, the softness of their skin, silkiness of their hair, the melodic lilt of their voices.
Their sumptuous curves. He yearned to protect them, loved their company, and enjoyed the way they normally adored him.
Aye, he knew he was handsome. Many women had told him so.
Some had groveled at his feet for his affections.
Others had swooned at his skill in swordplay and battle.
Not this lady. She had yet to even thank him.
Perhaps ’twas for the best. The last woman whose affections he’d enjoyed betrayed him. And that betrayal had cost many lives.
“Is here truly so horrible?” he finally said.
Her gaze snapped to his as she slid a strand of her hair behind her ear. “If you only knew.”
“Perhaps you will tell me someday of this future world from which you hail.”
“So you can tease me?” She raised a curt brow. “And then not believe me anyway. No thanks.”
He smiled at her bold tongue. The sound of besotted sailors engaging in a loud chorus of Pique la baleine rang through the thin walls as a seagull screeched outside the window.
Caleb longed to stay, to comfort the lady, to learn more about the mysterious woman who surprised him at every turn. But ’twas not proper to be alone with her.
And Caleb had learned long ago ’twas best to avoid temptation.
“I’ll leave you then, Miss. Lock the door after me, and I’ll come for you in the morning.” He spun around to do just that.
“Are you a murderer?” she asked, and the question brought him back around to face her.
Was he? Releasing a heavy sigh, he fisted hands at his waist and glanced out the window. A question that had plagued him for years. But what to share with this lady?
?
How dare the man stand there looking like a romantic hero of old?
Brown pants clung to muscular thighs stuffed inside tall leather boots.
A leather vest covered his white shirt and did nothing to hide the strength of his chest and arms. A gleaming sword hung by his side while a pistol was stuffed in his belt.
Strands of black hair slid across his stubbled jaw, loosened from their tie during the fight.
Eyes as deep and blue as the sea gazed at her from a masculine face that exuded nothing but strength, confidence, and oddly, at the moment, kindness.
He was a hero. Fearless, skilled, powerful. A gentleman who stood when a woman entered the room, pulled out her chair and protected her with his life. This was the hero of her story, the hero she longed to write about in her novel, the one she never thought existed.
His jaw bunched and then released. “Some say I am.” He hesitated, still staring out the window. “In truth, those who were under my protection died due to my actions. Hence, I suppose the accusation is valid.”
The look of pain in his eyes nearly brought tears to her own. “I’m sorry,” was all she could think to say. She wished to know more but sensed he didn’t want to talk about it.
Particularly when he slowly approached, a grin lifting one side of his lips. “Perhaps that allays your fear of me, for I would never harm a lady.”
“Really? I seem to remember you threatening to turn me over to the authorities?” she countered, rising from the bed. “Or chop off my hand and lock me in the hold?”
He waved a hand through the air. “Words meant to loosen your tongue, Miss.”
“And were you satisfied with what my loose tongue had to say?”
“I cannot deny that everything you say, Miss, has me quite captivated.”
The man’s gaze dropped to her lips. He took a step closer, and his smoky scent of salted leather and bay rum filled her nose, evoking a reaction she quickly shoved aside. Girl, you are not falling for this guy. Stop it!
Raising his hand, he stroked her chin with his thumb ever so gently, then caressed her cheek. “So soft,” he muttered before he released her, a hint of surprise crossing his eyes. “You do not fear me, despite hearing I am a murderer.”
It was more a statement than a question, so Desi merely stood there, doing her best to ignore the jolt of heat spiraling through her at his touch.
He cocked his head studying her, the closeness of him overpowering her every sense.
“I perceive you have formed an attraction toward me, Miss Starr.”
The spell broke. His arrogant vanity snapped her back to reality.
Hadn’t she heard the man was a Cassanova, a flirt, a man who used women and then casts them away?
She retreated, anger flaring. “I guess you expect every woman you fight to protect or buy a meal for to faint in your arms, praise your manliness, and give herself to you.”
A mischievous grin raised his lips. “A simple thank you would suffice, but if you’re offering a kiss, I won’t deny you the pleasure.”
“Me the pleasure? You flatter yourself, Captain. My kiss would be your pleasure, one you will never experience.”
The infuriating man was grinning again as if he didn’t believe her. The pride, the audacious ego! She crossed arms over her chest and gave him a monstrous glare.
“I see,” he said. “Then I shall leave you to your sleep.” He headed for the door.
Leave? Did he say leave?
She sucked in a breath. He’d mentioned leaving her before, but now that he was going, her stomach contracted into a tight ball.
Sunlight had vacated the room, replaced by evening shadows and a breeze that stirred the single candle’s flame.
Singing and the clank of tankards and curses of drunken men below rose to remind her of where she was.
And when.
“Please don’t,” she blurted out before she realized what she asked.
Halting, he faced her, a dangerous quirk to one brow.
She had to think of something quick. She was no frightened damsel in distress.
For goodness sakes, she was a modern, independent woman who ran her own company, managed employees, went on dangerous dives, and had faced sharks in the deep.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll run away? Until now, you’ve had me under lock and key. ”
“If you truly hail from the future as you claim,”—a playful spark glimmered in his eyes—“then I doubt you’ll want to venture about in a place and time with which you are unfamiliar.
I don’t know about your time, Miss, but a woman alone in this time is an invitation to disaster, especially in a town such as Marigot. ”
The man had a point, one she hated to admit, particularly because he seemed rather pleased with himself.
He released a sigh, his features softening. “You are afraid to be alone in this place.”
She nodded, unwilling to admit it out loud.
“Then I’ll stay.” He drew his sword and laid it on the dresser. “And I’ll sleep on the floor, but on one condition.”
Her relief was short-lived as renewed fear took root. Did the man expect favors? Of the sexual kind? “What do you want?”
“You remain in your gown and on the bed.” A serious warning burned in his gaze.
And because of that, all fear fled her. Yet, she could not help but tease him. “Now, who’s attracted to who?”
Desi couldn’t sleep. It had nothing to do with the annoying clamor from below or the pistol shots echoing through the night outside her window.
Nor to do with the painful stays that bit into her skin.
No, the blame lay with the man stretched out on the dirty floor in front of the door, snoring peacefully, his blade and pistol beside him.
Most of the guys she’d known couldn’t sleep without their high-end mattress, complete with heating and cooling, their white noise machines, and eye masks. And none of them would have been willing to sleep on the hard floor just to calm her fears.
If they did, they would expect something in return.
Though he claimed to be a missionary, he played the part of a pirate better.
He could take advantage of her, and no one would care or come to her rescue.
And why not? Her appearance in this time had caused him nothing but confusion and trouble.
Yet, there he slept, ready to leap upon any intruders who dared enter the room.
Despite herself, she couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of being cared for, protected.
An unfamiliar sensation for a girl whose parents died before she’d reached her teens and who had to fend for herself and care for her sister alone in a dangerous world.
Pops had been a wonderful grandfather, but his eccentricities often consumed his time, and he wasn’t always good at protecting them or even providing life’s necessities.
So Desi had learned early on how to take care of herself and that she couldn’t rely on anyone.
But this man was turning her world upside down. In more ways than one.
After the clamor from below settled into a low hum, the dash of waves against the rocks outside her window lulled her to sleep.
She dreamed she was swimming through the sea, warm water washing over her in a lover’s caress.
A colorful reef blossomed beneath her, ripe with life.
She wore no wetsuit, no fins, or tank. Yet, she could breathe just fine.
Such freedom! As if she were one with the sea and its creatures.
As if she belonged there. She swam deeper.
Just over a ledge, a shape took form. The hull of a ship, fully intact, its mighty masts spearing toward the surface.
She swam closer, the fore and quarterdecks formed before her, the whipstaff, binnacle, capstan, everything was in perfect shape.
Then she saw him.
Captain Caleb Hyde, standing upon the main deck, hands on his hips, gazing at her, a smile on his face.
He extended his hand, and she swam closer and gripped it.
So much love filled his penetrating eyes, it warmed every inch of her.
He drew her close and swallowed her up in his arms. “I’ve been waiting a lifetime for you,” he said.
Desi jerked to sit, gripping the edges of the flimsy cot to keep from falling. Blinking, she spotted Caleb still asleep on the floor. The faint glow of dawn drifted into the room, scattering dust and shadows alike.
Tossing off her covers, she crept toward the window and peered outside.
The first crest of the sun peeked over the horizon, flinging golden ribbons of light over the sea, turning foamy waves into glittering diamonds.
She’d always loved watching the sun rise.
How many times had she risen before dawn and walked to the beach to enjoy the sight?
Mornings brought new beginnings, a fresh start, the events of the past shoved aside by the light of a new day.
The ocean was always so calm at dawn, like liquid glass caressing the Florida shores.
As if even the sea realized something new, something fresh had begun.
“What will you bring me today?” she whispered to the blue waters.
“What mysteries will you reveal? Any surprises that will lead me home?” She waited, listening to the siren song of the sea, comforted by the fact that it was the same ocean she’d been conversing with back in her day.
The one link, besides the Ring, that tied her two worlds together.
Or was it? The man sleeping behind her also held a clue. He’d known her, seen her before. But how? A person could go crazy thinking about all this. “Take me home, deep waters, take me home.”