Charmed

by Catherine Hart

  In retaliation for the waves of heat he was sending through her, Kathleen’s tongue snaked out to trace and tease the soft inner edge of his lip. She felt him shiver in response, and then his strong white teeth were nipping sharply at her full lower lip, mingling little shafts of pain with fiery pleasure.

  With a low groan of unfulfilled need, Reed tore his lips from hers and raised his head, obvious regret reflected in the sea-blue depths of his eyes. Kathleen’s thickly lashed eyes fluttered open slowly, revealing emerald eyes still clouded with unbanked fires of desire.

  “Shall we depart to the captain’s quarters and conclude what we’ve begun in more privacy?” Kathleen suggested huskily, only now aware of the smothered chuckles of several members of the Kat-Ann's crew.

  “You tempt me, wench,” Reed admitted with a heavy sigh, “but I haven’t spent the morning tracking down your schoolmate's address and hiring a carriage for nothing.”

  Kathleen’s face lit up with delight. “Oh, Reed! You’ve located Isabel?”

  “I’ve got an address for her parents, Kat,” he corrected. “Don’t forget, it’s been five years since you were together at that English boarding school. She’s probably married with a family of her own by now, so don’t raise your hopes too high. Isabel may live in Madrid or Granada or heaven knows where.”

  “But we will go see if we can find her,” Kathleen insisted excitedly.

  “Yes, kitten. Now, go get yourself ready and see that Della has the children in hand. I need to give a few instructions to the crew before we leave.”

  Reed shook his head and smiled as she dashed off. Kat never did anything by half measures. Her volatile Irish nature left no room for complacency. When she was happy, the entire world knew her delightful smile, her joy, and her infectious laughter; and when she was angry, everyone near her felt the lash of her tongue, the flash of her expressive green eyes, the heat of her wrath. In turn, when she was sad, Reed almost expected clouds to shut out the sun in response to her tears; and when she turned to him with the full measure of her passion, he swore he felt the earth tilt and catch fire as he held her in his arms. In every area of her life, she gave all of herself or nothing at all.

  The past three years had been comparatively peaceful. He and Kathleen were secure in the love they shared and with their two lovely children. For Reed, contentment was waking up next to her each morning, basking in the glow of her smile each day, and hearing her glorious cries of ecstasy when he made love to her. All Reed wanted in this world was to spend the rest of his life with Kathleen.

  Below deck, Kathleen was-saying goodbye to her son and daughter. “Now you be a good little boy, Katlin, and don’t give Della any trouble,” she told her twelve-month-old son, fluffing his soft jet-black baby curb.

  He looked up at her and gave her the same crooked grin his father often displayed, his new baby teeth gleaming, his clear blue eyes alight with glee. “Dell,” he repeated.

  Kathleen kissed his chubby cheek. “Yes, my smart boy. Dell.”

  “I’m smart, too. Mommy,” piped up the little girl standing next to Kathleen. Her auburn hair caught the glow of light streaming through the porthole and held it.

  Kathleen laughed and stooped down to hug her daughter. “You are a very bright little penny, my adorable Alexandrea. Give Mommy a kiss before I go.”

  “I want to go, too!” Alexandrea Jean Taylor, more commonly called Andrea, thrust out her lower lip in rebellion. Her unusual aqua eyes, a perfect blending of her mother’s vivid green and her father's sky-blue, clouded in anticipation of Kathleen’s refusal. At two and a half, she was by turns angelic and precocious.

  Kathleen kissed the protruding lips. “Not this time, Andrea.” She stood and straightened the folds of her gown. “Mind Della and I’ll be back soon.”

  “An’ pull in dat lip afore yo’ steps on it,” Della advised. Tall, black, and an absolute jewel with the children, Della was a godsend to Kathleen. And, wonder of wonders, she hadn’t even gotten seasick the entire six weeks, though they’d hit a couple of nasty storms between Georgia and Spain.

  “Don’t hurry on our account, Miz Kafleen. Deze two gwine eat some lunch an’ take a nice long nap.”

  Kathleen nodded and hurriedly took her leave. Behind her, she heard Andrea arguing, “I don’t want to take a nap! I’m a big girl now. Babies take naps!”

  Kathleen was still grinning as she climbed into the carriage with Reed.

  “What’s so funny?” he wanted to know.

  “Your daughter. She’s giving Della trouble about taking a nap. Andrea is a real minx sometimes.”

  Reed laughed. “What did you expect? She takes after her mother!”

  Kathleen could not honestly argue that point, especially to Reed; not after what she had put him through.

  It was true that Kathleen’s father, Lord Edward Haley, had spoiled his only child. When she had returned from boarding school in England, he had taken her sailing with him on business trips for his shipping firm, teaching her to sail the eight frigates he owned. She learned everything she could from the crewmen, and soon she was acting as captain on most of their jaunts.

  The crew didn’t mind, for she was an excellent captain. In addition to a quick mind and good reflexes, Kathleen had a special feel for the sea; something rare and inborn, as if the sea were divulging her closely hoarded secrets to the girl. At times, the link was so strong that it was eerie, as if Kathleen could communicate with the gods of the deep; as if she had been born on the waves, a part of the mysterious depths and its creatures.

  When Kathleen had begged and pleaded persistently enough, her father had also allowed her to take fencing lessons, and soon she was besting her teachers. The heavy rapier soon became almost an extension of her arm, and with her natural agility, she became an expert duelist. Rarely could anyone best her, even Reed, as good as he was...

  As the carriage slowed to enter a private drive leading to a palatial estate, Kathleen jolted out of her reverie. A sidelong glance in Reed’s direction told her he was eyeing her quizzically.

  “What were you thinking, kitten?” he asked.

  Kathleen smiled softly, her hand reaching automatically to brush back the errant lock of black hair that fell across his forehead. “About the past, and about how much I love you,” she said.

  Reed’s smile answered hers. “And I love you, my darling, more than life itself.” His lips reached down to touch hers softly as the carriage pulled to a stop.

  The building before them was an imposing structure; three and a half stories of solid stone with balconies and high, narrow windows behind iron grillwork. A shiver ran over Kathleen’s skin as she thought it more resembled a fortress than a residence—or perhaps a prison.

  Reed let out a low whistle. “Awesome, isn’t it, even if it is slightly depressing?”

  “Shouldn’t it have gargoyles guarding the entrance?” Kathleen suggested wryly. She almost wished she hadn’t made the comment, as she watched Reed reach for the doorknocker. It was large, heavy, and in the shape of a fierce, fire-breathing dragon. “Oh, Lord!” she whispered, choking back a giggle.

  The gentleman who opened the door was dressed severely in black, enhancing the somber effect of the exterior. His face held no sign of emotion as he asked in Spanish, “May I help you?”

  “We’d like to speak with Isabel Fernandez,” Reed replied, also in Spanish.

  A frown barely registered on the servant’s face. “She’s not here.” Immediately he began to shut the door.

  Reed put out a hand to hold it open. “Then may we speak with Señor or Señora Fernandez?”

  “Do you have an appointment?” came the haughty reply.

  “No, but we have traveled a long distance, and my wife was looking forward to a visit with her friend.”

  Indecision flitted across the man’s features. Finally he opened the door wider. He motioned them into a lofty dark hallway. “Wait here. I will get the master.”

  When he had left them, Kath
leen let out the breath she’d been holding. “Good grief! You’d think we were asking for an audience with the queen!” Then another thought struck her. “Heavens! I can only wonder what Isabel thought when she came to visit me in Ireland the summer after school was out! She probably thought us a tribe of uncouth barbarians!”

  Reed shook his head and smiled. “Somehow I doubt that.”

  “Oh, but Reed!” Kathleen moaned in mortification. “I even talked my fencing instructor into letting Isabel share my lessons!”

  Reed rolled his eyes. “Why is it I am not surprised?”

  Further comment was cut short as the manservant returned to usher them into a small parlor off the hallway. This room, too, was deeply shadowed and decorated in dark tones. “Please be seated. The señor will be with you in a moment,” he said.

  No sooner had he left them than a man and woman entered the parlor. The man was tall and thin, with a prominent nose that gave him a distinctly hawklike appearance. The woman was petite, with dark hair and eyes. In spite of her pale, ashen complexion, Kathleen noted her resemblance to Isabel, and was sure this must be her mother.

  At first no one spoke, and the tension in the room was nearly palpable. The man seemed tense, even wary; and the woman was visibly nervous, perhaps frightened, as she repeatedly twisted her handkerchief.

  At last he spoke. “I am Rafael Fernandez, and this is my wife, Carmen. We are told you are looking for Isabel. I would like to know who you are and why you seek her.”

  Frowning slightly at Rafael Fernandez’s imperious attitude, Reed stated, “I am Captain Reed Taylor, and this,” he gestured toward Kathleen, “is my wife, the former Lady Kathleen Haley. My wife and your daughter were classmates in England a few years ago. We are in Spain on business for a few days, and Kathleen wished a short visit with Isabel, if it could be arranged.”

  “Yes,” Kathleen inserted. “Surely you recall that you let Isabel visit me in Ireland one summer. Is she still living here with you? Will she be home soon?”

  A cold look of disdain further hardened Sr. Fernandez’s stern features. “Isabel has not lived here for three years, and if she is wise, she will not attempt to darken my doorstep with her presence. She is no longer welcome in my home!”

  A dismayed gasp escaped Señora Fernandez’s lips as Reed and Kathleen stared at each other in surprise. “She is our daughter, Rafael,” the woman whispered faintly.

  Sr. Fernandez shot her a quelling look. “I no longer have a daughter!” To Reed and Kathleen he said, “I am sorry you have wasted your time and mine.”

  As he turned to leave the room, Kathleen jumped up. “Wait! Can you at least tell me where I might find her? I am sorry you are at odds with one another, but I should still like to see her.”

  The look Sr. Fernandez leveled at her would have frozen water. “I have no idea where she is, and I care less. To me she is dead.” He stalked from the room, leaving them alone with the distraught señora.

  “I am so sorry,” the woman murmured, unshed tears glistening in her huge dark eyes. “My husband is a hard, unforgiving man, but he has his reasons.”

  “Why?” Kathleen asked softly, still stunned by Fernandez’s outburst.

  “I cannot tell you. He has forbidden me to speak of it, or of her. I am surprised he consented to see you at all.” She sighed deeply, as if it was an effort to breathe. “This much I can tell you. You would be wasting your time to try to find Isabel. Others have been looking for her for weeks without success, and if my prayers are answered, she is not to be found in Córdoba or all of Spain.”

  Sorrow contorted her features into a grimace of pain. “I must ask you to leave now. Manuel will see you out.”

  As they climbed into the carriage, Kathleen and Reed were still stunned. “What was that all about?” Reed wondered aloud.

  Kathleen shook her head in dismay. “Poor Isabel! What could she have done that is so dreadful?”

  “I suppose we’ll never know,” Reed answered.

  The carriage pulled out onto the street, and as it slowed at the nearest corner, an old woman waved at them frantically. She resembled a scrawny black crow, dressed as she was all in black. They were about to ignore her and go on, when she approached the carriage, looked furtively back at the house they’d just left, and asked in hushed tones, “You are looking for Isabel?”

  Kathleen exchanged a quick look with her husband and nodded hurriedly. “Yes. Do you know where we can find her?”

  “Perhaps,” the woman answered hesitantly, “but I would need to know what you want with her.” Again she glanced worriedly toward the house.

  Impulsively, Kathleen threw open the carriage door. “Get in. We can talk in privacy as we ride.”

  Once settled, the woman still did not drop her guard. “Why do you seek Isabel?” she asked abruptly.

  “I am a friend of hers,” Kathleen offered.

  “Why have I never seen you before?” the woman returned suspiciously, her small, beady eyes narrowed.

  “This is my first trip to Spain,” Kathleen explained. “Isabel and I were friends at school in England. She visited me once in Ireland.”

  “What is your name?”

  “I am Kathleen Taylor, and this is my husband, Reed.” When she got no response, she added, “Before my marriage, I was Kathleen O'Reilly Haley.”

  This brought a nod from the old crone. “I have heard the name. What are you doing in Spain?”

  The mystery and interrogation of the past hour were starting to bother both Kathleen and Reed. They exchanged an exasperated look, and Reed took over. “I am a ship’s captain, and I own a shipping firm and several vessels in America. We are here on business to trade goods. While here, my wife wished to arrange a visit with Isabel, but I am beginning to wish I’d never heard of her.” Kathleen laid a restraining hand on his arm. Leaning toward the old woman, she asked intently, “Is she in some sort of trouble? What is going on? Where is she? Why is everyone acting so strangely?”

  The old woman shook her head. “I cannot tell you that yet. I must know that you can be trusted before I say more.” Her eyes grew piercing as she studied Reed and Kathleen. “Did you come by ship?”

  At their answering nod, she asked, “Where are you staying?”

  “We are staying aboard our ship, the Kat-Ann, at the docks.” Reed wondered if he were making a mistake in telling her this.

  “How long will you be there?”

  “We plan to leave late tomorrow evening.”

  “Are you leaving Spain? Where are you headed?” the woman persisted.

  “We are making a short stop at Seville for additional goods, since the port of Cádiz is under French blockade and we cannot trade there. Then we proceed to Ireland to attend to Kathleen’s estate there,” Reed told her.

  “And then we will return to Savannah,” Kathleen added.

  “That is in America?” the woman asked, as if it were of great importance.

  “Yes.”

  Again she nodded. “That is good.”

  “Why?” Kathleen prodded.

  The woman disregarded her question, posing instead another of her own. “Will you be aboard your ship tonight and tomorrow?”

  They assured her that one of them would be there if it was necessary.

  “Bueno. Someone will contact you. I only hope that I am not placing Isabel in danger by talking to you.” Her concern and suspicion were evident.

  “I swear to you that I am Isabel’s friend,” Kathleen vowed. “If she is in trouble, I want to help her if I can.”

  “Bah!” The woman spat the word in contempt. “Her own father has turned his back on her. You must place your trust carefully when your own flesh and blood turn you out.”

  Reed pinned the woman to her seat with his own determined glare. “If my wife says we will help Isabel, then help her we will.”

  The woman motioned for the carriage to stop. “You will hear from Isabel or from me soon. Be alert, and beware of strangers lurking about or askin
g questions. Isabel’s life may depend on your discretion. Tell no one that you have spoken to me, or what we have discussed.” With that, she descended from the carriage and disappeared into a nearby alley.

  Kathleen and Reed stared after her in bewilderment. “This is getting stranger by the minute,” Reed said with a frown.

  “Oh, Reed!” Kathleen raised worried eyes to his in a long look. “Isabel is in trouble of some sort! I’m wondering if we should alert the authorities?”

  He smiled wryly. “I have an odd feeling that it may be authorities who are searching for her so diligently, Kat.” Kathleen slumped in her seat. “But why?”

  “If we knew that, I wouldn’t be so worried,” he answered thoughtfully. “On second thought, knowing might make it worse. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  “I hope she is all right.”

  “So do I, kitten, and I hope her troubles don’t become ours. I hear Spanish jails are not the most hospitable places in which to find oneself.”

  “Strange talk for someone so deeply involved in piracy,” she commented dryly, a sparkle lighting her green eyes.

  “Privateering,” he corrected with a mocking look. “You, my dear, are the only one in this family who has ever practiced actual piracy.”

  Three years of relative tranquility in his marriage had dulled Reed’s mortification at finding out that his own wife had pirated him very successfully. Now Reed could almost laugh about it; or at least he could accept and understand why Kathleen had done it. In all honesty, he had to admit he admired her courage and skill in handling both her ship and her rapier.

  Kathleen had been stunning as the piratess Emerald of the Emerald Enchantress, he recalled. Disguising herself so that Reed would not recognize her, she had dyed her hair raven black and wore a mask and an extremely bold, revealing outfit consisting of long black boots, a green vest, and matching green trousers cut off short to just cover her buttocks . . .

  Later that evening aboard the Kat-Ann, Kathleen snuggled deeper into Reed’s enfolding embrace. “Alone at last,” he mumbled gruffly into her hair. “Is Della still in charge?”