Chapter 25 A Love Lost in Time
Fascinating how one’s life could change in a matter of moments.
From a life destined to slavery and hopelessness to one of love—astounding love—trust, and safety.
Caleb had said few words as they hurried through the sleepy town, though his grip on her hand was as tight and sure as an anchor in a storm-tossed sea.
She wanted to ask him why he’d come for her.
She wanted to ask him about the fake ring and the odd rain cloud.
She wanted him to stop so she could look him in the eye and thank him.
But every time she tried, he merely smiled her way and hastened his pace.
Now, as he ushered her into his cabin and closed the door, all the strength and courage she’d relied on for the past several hours drained out of her feet and spilled over the deck.
Caleb must have sensed her weakening, for he swept a strong arm around her waist and led her to the chair. Dropping to one knee before her, his storm-blue gaze scanned her from head to toe. “Are you harmed? Did he lay a hand upon you?” His rough palm enclosed hers, concern wrinkling his brow.
“No. He just locked me in a room.” The strength of his hand spread through her like a balm, soothing every frayed nerve.
“You must be faint with hunger. I’ll call one of my men to bring something.” He rose and started toward the door.
“Caleb.”
He faced her.
“Why did you come for me?” The words spilled hot with unshed tears. Rising, she did her best to force them back. She’d always hated weak women who cried at the drop of a hat. But this man’s gallant rescue touched her in a way nothing ever had.
He looked shocked. “Do you not know?”
She shook her head, not wanting to go there…to think this man loved her. So, she allowed anger to fume. “You could have been killed. You had no way to know if he’d fall for the fake ring.”
One side of his lips quirked into a grin. “I had to try.” He studied her, shifting his boots over the deck.
“It was a fool’s errand, and you know it,” she snapped, wondering at her anger and yet realizing it came from her fear—fear that harm would come to this man. “If that rain cloud hadn’t appeared when it did, we’d both be dead.”
He smiled, and in that smile, she saw a trust, a confidence, and a hope she’d sought her entire life.
But it only angered her further.
“Why are you smiling? I don’t understand.” She rubbed her temples where a headache rose. “The ring was fake, but the rain came anyway.”
“’Twas the power of Almighty God.” He gripped the cross around his neck and winked.
“God?” She shook her head, unwilling to believe, yet hard pressed for another explanation. “Even if that is true, you couldn’t have known that would happen.”
“That’s where faith comes in, my lady.”
Taking a step back, she lowered her chin, “You should have left me there. You had the Ring. It was far too risky.”
He moved closer and slid a finger beneath her chin, raising her gaze to his. “I would never have left you. Never.”
The truth in his eyes—deep as the ocean, fierce as the tide—undid her.
What was happening? This man, this pirate preacher, had captured her heart.
When she’d sworn she’d never succumb to such a frivolous, transitory thing like romantic love.
She’d seen far too many of her friends hurt, far too many broken relationships.
The kind of love between a man and woman never lasted, rarely went beyond fleeting attraction.
She couldn’t allow this. She was in the wrong time. The wrong place. She had a business to run. A sister to care for.
Retreating, she turned her back to him. “Geneviève told me you were a couple again. That you and she had hooked up.” Even as she said it, the agonizing emotions returned.
“Hooked up?” he asked, amusement in his tone. “Your speech ever baffles me.”
She moved to the desk and ran a finger over the oak wood.
“It means you and she… well, never mind.” Breathing out a sigh, she slipped a curl behind her ear.
“So, when the marquis told me that he intended to exchange me for the Ring, I assumed you wouldn’t show.
I mean Geneviève is beautiful, cultured, charming.
And from your time. You have much in common. ”
She felt rather than heard him slip behind her. His scent of salted leather and bay rum flooded her nose and did strange things to her belly.
“I perceive you are jealous, Miss Starr,” he teased.
Desperate to put distance between them, she tried to move away but found herself pinned between him and his desk. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m merely pointing out that you and she make a wonderful couple.”
He swept her hair back from her neck, his breath coming hot upon her skin. “She means nothing to me, Desi. Less than nothing.” Then grabbing her shoulders, he gently turned her to face him, drew her close, and enveloped her in his arms.
Despite her better judgment, she fell against him, leaning her head on his shoulder. And despite all vows of strength, tears came, trickling down her cheeks, evidence of her weakness, her need for him.
His arms caged her in warmth and iron. “You are safe now, Desi. I will never allow harm to come to you.”
In all her years, no one had ever said that to her.
There had been no one to count on. Not fully.
It had only been her. She was the one everyone leaned on, relied on.
Her sister, her friends, her employees. Even the men she’d dated had been weak, seeking the physical alone, seeking a woman to take care of them, to please them.
Yet now she clung to this man, this hero, her champion. And the one person in the world who had saved her at the risk of his own life. His warmth and strength encased her in impenetrable steel. It felt right in his arms, like she’d always been there, somehow.
He nudged her back and ran a thumb over her moist cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered.
“For what?”
“For crying like a baby.”
He brushed moisture from her cheek. “You have borne more than most women in a lifetime. You are no weakling. You are a lioness.”
Her lips curved. And at that moment, as if summoned, Patches leapt onto the desk, tail flicking, and meowed.
“She missed you,” Caleb said.
Reaching out, Desi stroked the cat’s fur.
“I missed you.” Caleb’s sincere tone brought her gaze back to him.
“I can’t thank you enough for saving me, Caleb.” Emotions surged. His nearness was a fire, his eyes pouring love so pure, it stole her breath.
“I would do it all over again.” His gaze lingered on her lips.
Desi’s heart crashed against her ribs. She should back off, run. She could not fall for this man who lived three hundred years in the past. Another kiss like their first would set her over the edge of the cliff she now stood upon—the cliff that spanned ages and eternity, past and future.
Then his lips found hers—tentative, reverent, then hungry, urgent, until the world dissolved. The groan of timbers, the hush of waves, even the creak of boots above faded into nothing but the press of his mouth and a mad rush of ecstasy she could not pull herself out of, even if she wanted to.
Which she didn’t.
With both hands, he gripped her face, drawing her closer, deepening the kiss. Loving her like no one ever had. Unknown pleasures swept through her, swirled around her and seemed to lift her out of time and space into a world where she and Caleb could live together forever.
When at last he broke away, he kissed her brow. “I love you, Desi.”
She dared to look up at him, the love spilling from his eyes swelling her heart. Should she admit she felt the same? Or would it only make things worse? “I…I…”
A knock on the door tore them apart. Desi faced the stern windows to hide both her tears and the overwhelming effect of his kiss that surely was written all over her face.
“Enter.” Caleb’s voice shook, raw and emotional.
Liam appeared, his expression grim. “Cap’n, a mob with torches is making for the docks.”
Desi turned to see Caleb dismiss him, march to Patches’s bed, thrust a hand within the folds, and draw forth the authentic Ring, its gold band glimmering in the lantern’s glow.
He moved to her, grasped her hand and pressed a kiss upon it. His thumb lingered against her cheek. “Stay here.”
Then with a storm in his eyes, he was gone.
?
Caleb leapt onto the main deck and marched to the railing, halting beside Alden, just as a mob of at least fifty men, torches aloft, blades and clubs flashing, stomped down the dock, shaking the wooden planks beneath their boots.
The marquis was not among them. No man of his station would soil his hands with such plebeian fury.
Yet, oft a patron’s designs were worse when carried out by other men’s blood and fear.
“What do you suppose they want?” Alden said, gripping the hilt of his blade.
“They aren’t comin’ fer tea,” Shorty spat from the other side of Alden.
The remainder of the watch lined the railing farther down, Levi, Keg, Blaire, Craden and two others, all shouldering muskets and fixing the crowd with hard, steady eyes.
Caleb glanced aloft. “Why are there only two musketeers in the tops?”
Liam eased on Caleb’s other side. “The rest have gone to their cots, Captain. Fever’s got them.”
Scrubbing his jaw with the heel of his hand, Caleb growled, feeling the damp of the night clinging to his fingers.
The docks stank of smoke, tar, and the sour sweat of men gathered to reckon.
The clap clap of Brandt’s cane announced the surgeon as he limped toward them, the old man’s face a map of exhaustion.
“They are far too ill to move, Captain,” he said without waiting for a question as the cane swept over the twenty men left standing. “These are the only ones not infected.”
Ayida moved through the shadows behind him, hands folded, eyes wide and bright as a saint’s. She gave him a quick nod and a smile, displaying an innocence he no longer believed.