He left a corsair’s name to other times,
Link’d with one virtue and a thousand crimes.
LORD BYRON
THE CORSAIR, CANTO III
Nikki’s car sat at the end of the walk. Morgan hadn’t driven without Kate’s assistance, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He ran to the car and climbed behind the wheel, confused by the great number of instruments that stared at him—far more than were in Kate’s vehicle.
But the keys were where he expected, and he turned them just as he’d watched Kate do. He released the brake, pulled the lever to drive, and pressed on the right pedal.
The car shot forward, and he eased his foot away. Too slow. Too slow. He touched it again, gradually building up speed, until he was moving down familiar streets.
The wind howled through the doors. It beat against the car. Palm fronds blew across the street, and paper and other trash slashed at the windows. Still he continued to forge ahead.
The city was coming to life, but few people challenged the storm. Darkness prevailed, leaving no room for the early morning light. Only an occasional vehicle passed.
The car roared right along with the storm. He headed over the bridge, swerving almost uncontrollably with each blast of wind. Ahead of him he saw the lighthouse, and the masts of Satan’s Revenge.
Kate’s car was parked not far from the ship, and he stopped next to it. The doors were open, and there was no one inside, but he gave thanks that his ship was still in the harbor, and he prayed that Kate and Casey were safe.
Satan’s Revenge rode the roiling waters like a harpooned whale, and he ran toward her as she was breaking free of her moorings, and straining away from the dock. The gangplank was gone. He couldn’t make it to the ladder stretching up her hull, so he ran along side her, vaulted across a stretch of sand and sea, and caught one of the mooring ropes as it snapped from the ground. He swung across the foaming water and slammed against the hull.
A wave hit him, threatening to tear loose his hold, but he’d not be stopped.
He climbed, hand over hand, dragging himself to the deck of the ship. He gripped the railing and peered over the side, hoping to see Kate and Casey, but he saw nothing.
He slid over the side and dashed across the rain-slick deck, hiding behind a stack of crates.
Through the pounding rain he heard a well-remembered voice.
“That sweet little daughter of yours will be mine tonight, if you do not do as you are told.”
Bile rose in Morgan’s throat as he remembered what had happened to Melody and his parents. He refused to think of something similar happening to Kate and Casey.
He peered over the wooden crates. Kate stood at the helm, her hands holding fast to the wheel. Rain pelted her. Wind swept her hair into the swirling gale. But she aimed her fiery green eyes directly at Low.
“I told you,” she screamed, her voice full of tears and hate. “I don’t know the first thing about sailing a ship this big.”
“You will before the day is out. It is impossible for me to sail it on my own. That means, my dear, that you must be the crew.”
In his hand, Low carried the cat-o-nine-tails, one of his favorite weapons, and he cracked it against his hand as he paced the deck in front of Kate.
“Where’s my daughter?”
“Do not concern yourself with that.”
“You told me she’s on the ship?”
Low inclined his head, his short dark hair streaming with rain over his brow. He smiled, a look Morgan remembered too well. “She waits for me below.”
Kate lunged toward Low, but came to an abrupt stop. Morgan saw the length of rope binding her wrists to the wheel. He had brought this pain upon her. God forbid, he had to save her.
“It is useless to struggle, Kate,” Low said. “You are powerless against me.”
“Go to hell!” she screamed. Her lips quivered in anger and fright. But Morgan knew damn good and well it wasn’t for herself she feared. It was for her child.
He crouched low, stealing across the deck, and slipped down the hatch leading to his cabin.
It was dark inside, but the whimpering of a child led him toward the bed.
“Casey?” he whispered.
He heard naught but a soft, tear-filled cry.
When his eyes adjusted to the dark, he found Casey curled up on the center of the mattress, her hands and feet bound, a gag tied about her mouth.
He lifted her into his arms, cuddling her close as he removed the rag.
“Shhh,” he cooed, softly pressing his lips to her forehead. “Tis all right, Casey.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know.” Her hands and ankles had been bound with rope that was cutting into her skin. Carefully, hoping to cause her little pain, he loosened a knot around her wrists, and pulled her close when she cried.
He hummed an old lullaby as he untied the other knots, then rocked her gently, hoping to ease some of her fear. “I will not let him hurt you,” Morgan whispered. “Do you trust me, Casey?”
She nodded.
“Then you must do whatever I tell you. You might be frightened, but I promise no harm will come to you.”
“Where’s my mommy?”
“She’s on the deck. We have to save her, too. But you have to be quiet. No matter how scared you are, you can’t scream, or cry, or run from my side—unless I tell you to. Do you understand?”
Again she nodded.
Morgan felt her little hands weave around his neck as he carried her from the cabin. He drew his cutlass as they made their way to the deck.
Satan’s Revenge had reached open water. She pitched and tossed, and Morgan fought to keep his balance.
Stealing across the deck, he hid behind the crates and held a silencing finger to his lips when he set Casey on the wooden planking.
“Are you frightened?” he asked, pushing wet ringlets from her face.
“Yes,” she said, her lips quivering as she spoke.
“So am I.” He smiled as he drew his dagger and handed it to Casey, wrapping her little fingers tightly around the hilt.
“Do not play with this, Casey. ’Tis not a toy.”
“I know.” She lightly touched the remnants of the scab at his neck.
“Twas not your fault, but I don’t want you accidentally hurting anyone again. What I want you to do is hold the blade down to your side.” He drew her fist to her hip, then looked deeply into her eyes.
“I’m going to get the bad man’s attention, and draw him away from your mother, hopefully to the far end of the ship. When I call your name, and yell, ‘Now,’ I want you to walk very slowly, very carefully, toward your mother. Don’t run. Promise me?”
She nodded.
“When you get to your mother, give her the dagger. Then tell her to stay with you at the wheel. Do you understand?”
Casey’s lower lip jutted out as she nodded.
“Are you going to leave us again?” she asked, tears mixing with the rain beating against her face.
“Not if I can help it. I’d rather stay here and marry your mother.”
“And be my daddy?”
“Aye, Casey. There is nothing I want more.”
He hugged her, kissing the top of her head. And then he whispered in her ear, “I love you.”
Leaving Casey there was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. But he had no choice.
He dashed toward the mast where canvas flapped, and climbed a good ten feet from the deck. Lightning flashed through the early morning sky, and all on board was illuminated.
Kate saw him first, and a smile shone on her beautiful face. God, he’d never seen anyone or anything so radiant.
And then he turned his attention to his enemy.
“Thomas Low,” he shouted. “Tis a word I would have with you.”
Low spun around, hate oozing from every pore in his body.
“I was hoping you’d come,” Low declared, sauntering toward Kate. He drew his cutlass and aimed it at her neck. “Tis a fair wench you’ve bedded. Of course, she will not be nearly so comely with her head separated from her body.”
“Tis true,” Morgan laughed, attempting to look and sound unconcerned, when deep inside his stomach knotted. But he knew too well how Low worked. He would toy with Morgan before bringing any harm to Kate. He liked the thrill of watching his victims squirm, and Morgan was just as much a victim now as Kate and Casey.
That knowledge was the only thing that kept Morgan sane.
“I have something for you, Low. Something you may find more appealing than taking the woman’s life.”
“And what is that?”
“Carving another scar on my face. I have an unblemished cheek ripe for the taking.”
Low’s pearly white smile shone in the next flash of lightning. He slapped the cat against his side as he strolled away from Kate.
Morgan grinned at Low, realizing that his hastily devised plan was working. “I would even bare my back for you should you care to have another go at ripping the flesh from my body.”
“You would do all that for a woman?”
“Aye. All that and more.”
“You are a fool.”
“Nay.”
Morgan jumped down from the mast and spread his feet wide on the deck to steady himself on the rocking ship. He resheathed his cutlass and held his arms out to his sides.
“I am yours, Low.”
“What assurances do I have that you will not run?”
“I may be a pirate, but first and foremost, I am a gentleman. Have I ever lied to you?”
“Not that I recall.”
“Then come and get me.”
Low advanced slowly, his cutlass zigzagging methodically in front of him.
Closer and closer he came, the wind and rain pummeling him.
Morgan remained steadfast.
Water dripped from Low’s cutlass, from his hand, from the tip of his beard as he neared.
Still, Morgan held his ground, staring at the man he hated.
Low raised the tip of his blade toward Morgan’s left eye, then lunged, but Morgan dodged the deadly thrust, drawing his cutlass from its scabbard. Taking advantage of Low’s confusion, he danced behind him, then coaxed the bastard further away from Kate with swift swings of his blade.
Low sneered. “You lied to me.”
“Perhaps I am not the gentleman I believed myself to be.”
Morgan laughed as he jabbed again, dancing right and left to avoid Low’s crazed and wild swings.
Thunder crashed. Lightning streaked, hitting a coil of chain lying on the deck. Sparks flew, and Morgan thrust again and again until he had Low far from Kate.
And then he shouted. “Casey! Now!”
Low’s eyes widened as he looked past Morgan’s shoulder. Morgan didn’t dare look, he only prayed that Casey would remember his words. Walk very slowly. Give the dagger to your mother. Stay by the wheel.
“You will not take the child from me,” Low screamed. “Not again.”
“You are wrong.”
Morgan had no more time for words, for sport. Low was a vicious dog who deserved nothing less than a blade through his evil heart, and Morgan intended to give him his due.
“Morgan!”
He heard Kate’s scream an instant before the block hit him in the head. He stumbled, ramming his shoulder into the mast. He tried to right himself, tried to ride the wave of nausea and dizziness.
Low rushed at him, his cutlass extended. Morgan was unable to move, and he prayed for help.
“Get away from him, you bastard!” Kate yelled. Her small body rushed at Low, knocking him in the side, her hand flailing at Low with the dagger.
That was all Morgan needed to regain his senses, his strength. He pushed up from the deck, staggering just a moment, and went after Low again. He grasped Kate’s arm, yanking her away from Low as he swung his sword.
“My thanks, madam,” he managed to utter. He smiled at Kate, then shoved her away from the man he meant to kill.
“Be a man, Low,” he hollered. “Fight me and not a woman and child.”
“I will kill you. And then I will kill them, just as I killed the others.” Low grinned, flashing the diamond and emerald ring he wore in front of Morgan. “I have retrieved the treasure I wanted so badly.”
Hatred filled Morgan as visions of his mother, his father, and Melody came vividly to his eyes.
He parried and trust, wildly driving his anger against Low.
Lightning crashed against the foremast, and just as before, Morgan heard it snap, heard the rip of wood before it toppled down to the deck, separating him from Kate and Casey.
Thunder roared. A giant wave rolled against the hull. He and Low were thrown from their feet and slid across the deck. Low’s cutlass flew through the air. Morgan’s slid across the planking, disappearing from sight.
Low struggled with the ropes that he’d collided with. Morgan was trapped beneath a dozen heavy crates. He pushed against them, desperate to see Kate and Casey for what he feared might be the last time. They huddled together against the base of the mizzenmast, their arms woven through the rigging to keep from going overboard.
Using his back for leverage, Morgan shoved the crates away just as Low lunged toward him. They wrestled, rolling over and over across the deck, and somehow Morgan trapped Low’s arms and wrenched the wedding ring from his finger. It belonged to Kate, and no one would ever take it from her.
No one.
He slid it on the end of his little finger as another bolt of lightning skittered across the ship, striking down an oil lamp. Flames shot across the deck, burning steadily beneath the rain-soaked canvas on the fallen mast.
Low kneed Morgan, shoved out of his hold, and stumbled backward as Satan’s Revenge surged on a wave.
Morgan lunged at Low, hitting him in the belly with his shoulder. Again they rolled across the pitching deck, trying to reach the cutlasses that slid back and forth on the slippery planks.
Flames shot high in the air as the canvas caught fire. It trailed along the mast in spite of the pouring rain.
Another bolt of lightning ripped from the clouds and struck the hull. Like a cannonball, it burst through the wood.
Another bolt hit.
Another.
Morgan could hear Satan’s Revenge groan as she split nearly in two.
Low screamed when the deck cracked beneath him, and Morgan managed to get his feet up to Low’s chest. He pushed hard, sending his enemy crashing against the side of the ship.
Rising quickly, Morgan rushed toward Kate and Casey, but the flames and the ragged opening in the deck kept them apart.
Kate held a crying Casey in her arms. He saw the fear in her eyes as fire leapt between them. And then he cried out, “Jump. Please, Kate.”
“I’m afraid.”
“Don’t be. Please. Say a prayer for all of us, and jump.”
“I don’t want to leave you.”
He smiled, dragging in a deep breath. “I’ll always be in your heart, Katie. Always.”
“I love you.”
“I know.”
Tears coursed down his cheeks.
Satan’s Revenge pitched. The crack in her deck widened.
“Jump!” he screamed, and watched with an aching heart as Kate and Casey disappeared over the side.
“They will die.”
He heard Low behind him, and when he turned, Low held his cutlass mere inches from Morgan’s heart.
“As I always predicted, Low, we will die together.”
Low grinned, then lost his balance as Satan’s Revenge broke apart.
Water rushed over the rapidly sinking deck. Morgan wrapped his arm through the rigging and grasped his own jewel-hilted cutlass as it slid past him on a wave of water.
Low rose, laughing like the devil himself. He raised his cutlass, making a crazed attempt to charge at Morgan.
Thunder rolled.
“Help me, Lord,” Morgan prayed—for himself, for Kate, for Casey.
Taking a deep breath, he heaved his cutlass at Low as lightning streaked across the sky. It hit the blade, and sparks skittered along the steel as it buried itself in the center of Low’s chest.
Low’s eyes widened, and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth.
Another bolt of lightning struck the blade, and Thomas Low faded before Morgan’s eyes, then disappeared completely from sight, as if he’d been nothing but a nightmare.
Satan’s Revenge shimmered in the firelight. Lightning struck her figurehead, and just like Low, she started to fade.
Morgan struggled against the rigging that had captured his legs. Fire shot around him, burning everything that floated. He felt the heat at his feet, against his legs.
At last he broke free.
Satan’s Revenge made one last valiant attempt to hold on to life. She groaned as Morgan worked his way to her splintered railing.
He said good-bye to the ship that had been his life for many a year. He said another good-bye to the man he’d been in another time, and dived for the open sea.
Kate fought the wind and waves, treading with all her might to keep her head and Casey’s above the treacherous water.
“I’m scared, Mommy.”
“Me, too, Case. Me, too.”
Salt water rushed into her mouth, stinging her lungs, as she watched the fire leap from the mast on Satan’s Revenge to the carved figure of a woman at her bow. She heard the crack and groan of wood as the ship ripped apart and made one last pitch toward heaven.
Suddenly Satan’s Revenge shimmered like a mirage on a hot summer day. She glowed brightly, lighting the darkened sky, and then she disappeared—not under the water, but into thin air.
Tears raced down Kate’s cheeks along with the rain and salt water. Her chest felt as if it would collapse—her heart had vanished along with the ship.
Morgan was gone. She’d never see him again.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you.”
Water bubbled about her. Something brushed against her feet, along her legs. It grasped her waist. Fear ripped through her at the thought that she might have gotten caught in some strange undertow, or that Thomas Low had survived—to carry out his threats.
A head suddenly burst through the surging water. Long dark brown hair rose on the waves, and hypnotic blue eyes smiled at her as Morgan pulled her and Casey into his embrace.
He kissed her, breathing a new resolve to live into her heart.
The thunder ceased.
The lightning was swallowed up by the dark.
The clouds broke apart and flew away, leaving behind only the mid-morning sun.
And a rainbow arched over the suddenly calm waters of the Atlantic.
“Tis going to be a lovely day, madam,” Morgan said, kissing her trembling lips and Casey’s forehead.
“Beautiful, I think. But what about Low?” she asked.
“Gone. He won’t be hurting anyone in this century, or in any other.”
Kate kissed him softly, and he winced when she brushed her fingers over a gash on the side of his head.
“You’re hurt. Oh, God. I forgot.”
“Tis nothing a good nurse—or preferably, a loving woman—cannot heal. I quite look forward to a few more days in bed, and your lovely face looking down at me as you shave my whiskers and soothe my burning brow.”
“Can I tell you more stories?” Casey asked.
“Aye.”
“Are you and Mommy going to get married now?”
“Aye. As soon as possible.”
Kate watched Morgan slip the emerald and diamond ring from his little finger and put it on her left hand, where it would always stay.
He kissed her softly, while they treaded water together.
Staying alive in the ocean, getting home again, were only two storms they’d have to weather in life. She knew there would be many more, because as Kate well knew, life was full of tough times. But she and Morgan would challenge those storms together.
Forever.
Off in the distance she heard the whir of an engine. A Coast Guard boat raced toward them. She’d prayed for help, and it was coming.
She’d prayed for Low to disappear, and he had.
She’d prayed with all her heart for Morgan to return, and he was holding her now—and always.
And she’d prayed for one more thing—for Nikki to be okay. Now, as the Coast Guard neared, she saw a pale, rather weak-looking blond slumped at the bow.
Kate smiled, and silently gave thanks for all her answered prayers.
She kissed her daughter, once, twice, half a dozen times.
She turned to Morgan, the pirate who’d become her hero.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“With no regrets?”
“None at all.”
He kissed her softly, right there in the middle of the calm Atlantic, and she knew that life couldn’t be any more perfect.