Jordan shook her head. “He is neutered.” She took the feline out and handed him to the woman. “His name is Sinbad, and he prefers to be an only cat, although he wouldn’t mind living with another adult cat. Just no dogs, please.”
The man laughed. “Did he tell you that?”
The cat surely had told Jordan what he wanted.
Jordan went on. “I just found him a few days ago. He’ll make a great pet.”
Luna snickered and pointed past the boardwalk arcades to the lighthouse in the harbor. “She’s a lot like that beacon, but for stray cats.”
“That’s true,” her friend agreed.
When the couple wouldn’t commit to the adoption, Jordan moved on to another potential family, one with a few small kids. And after wowing the children with her ability to read the felines’ thoughts—something that the parents no doubt assumed was a parlor trick—Jordan managed to place two kittens with the family.
“You’re great at that,” Luna told her after the family had left.
“My gift has come in handy,” Jordan said. “How do you think I convinced Sawyer to propose to me? I persuaded his cat to lead him to his grandmother’s engagement ring as a hint.”
Luna gasped. “No way.”
Jordan chuckled. “Just kidding. But seriously, I did help him solve a pretty big mystery right after we met.”
“That’s…amazing. How’d you do that?”
Jordan waited until a few event-goers had passed before she spoke. “Well, I’m sure you read in the Cat’s Paw Cove Courier that his aunt tried to have him killed and then stole Sawyer’s share of the Sherwood House.”
Luna remembered the story, which had been big news last year. Sawyer’s Aunt Angelica had been one of the wealthiest and most prominent residents of the town. Her arrest had been a huge shock to everyone. “Sure, but I didn’t realize that you’d helped make that happen.”
A proud smile settled on Jordan’s face. “Actually, Angelica’s Doberman told me that he remembered Angelica and her late husband arguing about killing someone. That someone turned out to be Sawyer. Thank goodness they’d failed at murder.”
“Holy cow.”
Jordan nodded. “He was living up in Georgia. Sawyer had no idea who he really was. You see, he had amnesia from someone hitting him on the head. His cat led us back here.”
Luna had heard bits and pieces of the tale, but until that moment, she hadn’t put it all together.
Hours later, as the sun sank low on the horizon, Luna and Jordan returned to the café with three fewer cats and just a handful of leftover pastries.
Luna was completely wiped out, yet relieved that her spell of protection had apparently worked. Not a single guy had hit on her. Finally, she let down her guard. Keeping her spiritual shield in place had sapped her energy. She thanked Jordan for her help with the event and made sure that her brother was okay closing the café by himself.
“Go home, sis,” Leo insisted. “Take a nap. I know you didn’t get much rest last night. You were moaning in your sleep. I heard you all the way in my room.”
Face heating, she said, “Sorry about that.”
Leo nodded as he wiped down the counter. “Go, get out of here.”
“Thanks.” Luna pressed a kiss to his cheek. “See you later.”
Minutes later, she arrived home at the cottage and plopped down on the overstuffed chair in the living room. The soothing sound of the waves in the distance lulled her into a dreamy state.
A tempest howled all around her. The blackest sky she’d ever seen threatened to engulf her as the ship rocked in the stormy sea. Wooden boards creaked and moaned. Then snapped with an explosive pop.
The ship was breaking apart. It was only a matter of time. Luna’s breath locked in her chest.
Was she going to die?
Before she could figure that out, a giant wave swallowed her up and dumped her into the cold ocean. Debris cluttered the surface. She pumped her legs to stay afloat. Spitting out the salty swill in her mouth, she gasped for breath. She wouldn’t last much longer.
A male voice reached through her panic. “I’ve got you.”
A strong arm slipped around her waist. The man drew her against his body. She had but a moment to look at his face—her hero—before her limbs went limp, sapped of all strength. Thank goodness for the man.
Something bumped her right side—a broken plank. She grabbed onto it and uttered her thanks to the universe.
“That one’s better.” The man reached for a larger section of boards to her left, and hauled it closer. “Hold onto this with all your might.”
He was going to release her. Fresh panic drummed through her. “Please don’t let me go.”
Ignoring her plea, he helped her onto the makeshift raft. “Hold on,” he shouted.
A piece of debris came out of nowhere, hitting the man’s head. His eyes fluttered for a second before he slipped under the water.
She tried to grab him, but he’d disappeared into the black depths.
“Come back!” she screamed. Too late. He was gone. “No!”
She startled awake. In her quiet living room. She was dry, warm.
If only she could return to that dream, that man. She couldn’t get her handsome hero’s face off her mind.
His eyes were a deep mahogany. His square jaw and straight nose appeared to have been carved from granite. And that voice—so sure and deep—had calmed her through the ordeal. But had he survived?
It was only a dream.
The man had been so real. So heroic.
She should have known that the only place she’d have found such a great, good-looking guy was in her imagination. Real men lied and cheated, presented themselves as single when they weren’t. Except for one.
Chuck. Why couldn’t she just get on board with the notion of a relationship with the man? He had it all—a great job as a number cruncher for the city of Jacksonville, a beautiful home near the beach. Chuck was perfect boyfriend material. Most importantly, he came without any drama or old baggage. She’d only known him for a few months, so maybe that was the problem. She merely needed time to build an attraction for him, which was surely why she couldn’t bring herself to encourage him in his pursuit of her, at least not yet.
Hecate pounced on her stuffed mouse under the coffee table. Then the feline picked up the toy and dropped it at Luna’s feet.
Luna threw the mouse across the room, and just as she always did, Hecate went to retrieve it. “Don’t you know that this is a dog’s game, not a cat’s?”
Hecate pawed the toy, moving it even closer to Luna.
“Fine.” She threw it into the hallway as she stood up. “We’ll play more later, Hecate. Mommy needs some beach therapy.” Yes, she relished a little time to herself. Her go-to self-care treatment was always a long walk near the shore.
Grabbing a light shawl and her keys, she headed out. By the time she reached the beach, the calm skies had clouded up, turning the gold sunset a hundred shades of pink, purple and gray. She glanced toward the boardwalk, surprised to see a lot of people still there. The festival should have been winding down by now. Perhaps the Shipwreck Museum was still open and attracting interested tourists.
Thunder boomed in the distance. Luna’s skin tingled.
Storms didn’t usually frighten her. She’d grown up in a hurricane zone, but this one made her a little nervous. She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she neared her favorite spot—a narrow strip of beach below the highest dunes, close to the entrance to several of the area’s underground tunnels. Sitting on the sand, she breathed in the soothing salt air, listened to the waves lap at the shore. Even in the rain, the spot was so peaceful, her safe haven.
Suddenly, a menacing figure staggered out from behind a rock—right toward her.
Indecision paralyzed her. Perhaps he’d pass her without incident. But when she realized he was heading straight toward her, it was too late t
o bolt.
Swallowing hard, Luna closed her hand around a chunk of driftwood on the beach and steeled herself. “Get back,” she shouted. But the man kept coming.
Illuminated only by moonlight, the guy looked like some kind of monster as he drew closer—seaweed hung from his wet hair, debris covered his clothes. In this town full of all sorts of paranormal beings, anything was possible, although her witchy senses didn’t pick up on any supernatural energy from the guy. He was most likely a re-enactor, like the guy with the sunglasses earlier. This man had probably had too much to drink.
Pointing toward the Shipwreck Museum, he dropped to his knees. “It’s the Guinevere!”
“Yep, that’s the Guinevere.”
“My ship,” he said in a very convincing British accent.
Okay, so he wasn’t a monster, just a lunatic. Which made him infinitely more dangerous. And he appeared to be injured. Blood ran down the side of his face from the long gash on his forehead. Was it real or just part of his costume?
Luna inched away from him, fearful for her safety.
Until she got a better look at his clothes—the loose-fitting white shirt with voluminous sleeves, knee-length pants that buttoned up the sides. She pulled her cell out of her back pocket and turned on the flashlight, training it on the man.
Recognition hit her like a slap of icy air, and her fear abated. Her dream man! How could that be?
“What magic is this?” He shielded his face from the light. “Are you a mermaid? Or a sea nymph? I’ve heard sailors speaking of such creatures.”
If he was a re-enactor, he certainly was staying in character. The injury on his forehead looked real enough, though. “Are you hurt?” She reached out to touch the wound, but he backed away.
“Stay away,” he ground out. “I know what you are, witch! Any closer, and you’ll surely steal my breath.”
Well, she was a witch, of course, but not the kind he seemed to think. “I won’t hurt you,” she assured him.
He slid farther away. “Why are your braids blue then, like a mermaid’s hair?”
Luna stifled a chuckle. “It’s just dyed.”
The man got to his feet. “I don’t believe you. I won’t be lured by your beauty.”
Her beauty? Clearly, his head injury had affected his mind. “Why don’t you let me take you to the boardwalk? I saw a medic station there earlier today. Maybe it’s still open.”
Narrowing his eyes at her, he stood his ground.
She held up her hands in surrender. “My name is Luna. I don’t mean you harm. Let me help you.”
The man kept glancing toward the Shipwreck Museum then back at her. Did he really think that the raised ship was his? When he didn’t speak for several moments, Luna racked her brain to think of a way to convince him to go with her.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
He hesitated before answering. “Colin.”
Okay, that was a start. “Would you at least follow me to the nurse? Your head wound should be looked at.”
“I must find my wife. She was on the ship with me.”
Luna gasped. Images of her dream filled her head—being on a ship’s deck in a bad storm, her dream man’s face—this man. How could it be? Her head buzzed with questions.
Wait, he’d just mentioned that he was married. The notion shouldn’t bother her. “Your wife?”
Colin nodded. “Evelyn is with child. And she was ill.”
Worse—a pregnant wife. Who was probably worried sick about her husband. “Would you like me to call her for you?”
Colin gave Luna a blank stare. “I’m quite sure she won’t hear you.”
Yeah, that head wound had done some damage. Returning her phone to her pocket, she motioned for Colin to follow her. “Please, we need to get you some medical help.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry, but I won’t succumb to your siren song. I fear you’re luring me to a witch doctor. I’ll not go.”
Chapter Three
Colin returned the blue-haired vixen’s glower, even as he fought not to collapse in the sand. His head pounded, and exhaustion weighed upon him like a leaden blanket. What he would give to be able to lie down, close his eyes, and sleep for a while. Even his hard bunk on the ship would be heavenly—although last he remembered, the vessel had hit a reef and had been breaking to pieces.
How then, could he see the Guinevere now, with its posts and sails seemingly intact? The ocean, too, wasn’t churning but calm, as if the tempest hadn’t taken place.
What had happened to him? Had he died? If so, this wasn’t anything like the Heaven he’d expected.
Had he swallowed too much sea water? Had his brain coddled in his skull and he’d gone mad? Fear accompanied a shrill ringing sound in his ears.
“Hey.” Luna touched his arm. “Don’t pass out on me.”
“Pass…what?”
“There’s no way I can drag you down the beach or carry you to the medic station.”
Colin frowned as his gaze raked over her. That, at least, was the truth. She was far too petite to bear his weight. Nicely formed, he’d already noticed, despite her shawl-like covering and odd garments underneath. Such clothing must be the traditional garb worn by colonists in this area.
Still, why would she believe he’d want to be dragged down the beach or carried? Was that customary when folk encountered other people they didn’t know? Perhaps it was required by the officials of the so-called medic station.
The last thing he needed was more sand in his arse, but he didn’t want to cause offense.
“Don’t get upset,” Luna said in a soothing tone. “I really do want to help you.”
God help him, but he wasn’t the only one who needed help. “Evelyn—”
“You can tell the medics what happened to you. They’ll know who to contact,” Luna added. “They might be able to get a search started for her.”
That did, indeed, sound like a good plan.
“Also, see those lights out there?” Luna pointed to the water. “They’re from boats. The folks on one of them might have already found Evelyn.”
His heart leapt, even as he recalled helping Mrs. Harrison onto the makeshift raft before he’d blacked out. “Evelyn’s not the only one. There are others.”
“How many others?”
He tried to recall the faces of the other passengers. “There were at least fifteen of us—men, women, and children—not including the captain and crew. If others survived, they may be injured too.”
Luna studied him. “You were on a fairly large boat, then.”
He gestured to the ship. “That large.”
She exhaled a heavy sigh. “Okay, just so we’re clear…. You’re involved with the local Historical Society, right?”
“What Historical Society?”
“The one that organized the re-enactment of the shipwreck. Isn’t that why you’re in costume?”
Colin nearly choked. “You think I am part of an act?”
Her grip tightened on her shawl. “I’m not sure what to believe. I’d like to understand what’s going on here.”
“As would I.” Impatience gnawed. “I swear, there was a terrible storm. The ship hit a reef. I witnessed the vessel breaking apart, men being washed overboard.” Colin almost couldn’t bear to remember, but he must, in order to get help.
“How did you get from the ocean to this beach?”
An excellent question; one he couldn’t answer. “I’m…not sure. Nor can I explain why the tempest has vanished. But, as far as I know, I’m the only one who reached shore.” He gestured to the water. “The rest must still be out there.”
Luna’s gaze shifted to the calm expanse of sea then back to him. “Colin, I’m going to ask you an important question, and you need to answer me truthfully.”
“I’ve spoken the truth from the moment we met,” he gritted.
Her throat moved with a swallow. “Did you
have a few drinks tonight?”
“I drank a lot of seawater—”
“I meant wine. Liquor—”
“No!”
She hesitated then asked, “Are you and the others you mentioned…illegal aliens?”
What the hell were ayleeuns? Not just any old ayleeuns, but illegal ones?
Colin’s pulse quickened because while he didn’t fully understand her question, he did know what illegal meant. Fleeing England to escape his inherited debts would most certainly be considered illegal. If he was arrested in this foreign land, he might be separated from Evelyn for months or even years. He might even be sent back to England for sentencing.
He wouldn’t be able to protect Evelyn, wouldn’t see his newborn child or be able to help raise it. “I…well….” The ringing noise sounded in his ears again.
Luna squeezed his arm, pulling his focus back to the moonlit beach. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about that now.”
Thank God.
Luna sighed again. “Whatever’s happened to you, I am still going to help you. Your wife and the others, too.”
Relief rushed through him. He almost sank to his knees.
“You’ll need to come with me, though. It’s a bit of a walk.”
At least she hadn’t insisted on dragging or carrying him. He nodded, even as he resolved to keep his wits about him. If she’d planned to trick him, or if officials tried to arrest him, he’d be ready.
Luna started walking, and he fell in beside her. He’d lost his boots to the ocean, so sand pushed up between his toes that were already gritty with sand. Now and again, Colin stepped on hard things he couldn’t see—hopefully seashells and not creatures with sharp teeth and pointy spines that would pierce through the soles of his feet and feast on his flesh, or something equally ghastly.
“What land is this, if you don’t mind my asking?” he said.
Luna glanced at him, but didn’t slow her pace. “The United States.”
He’d never heard of such a place.
“You’re from England, right?”
“Aye.” No point denying it. He had an upper-class British accent and wouldn’t be able to convincingly replicate the way she spoke even if he tried.
A Witch in Time Page 3
