“Letters?”
“From Colin to Matthew. I inherited them years ago, along with some other family stuff.”
Understanding bloomed in Colin’s mind. The bastard had the correspondence in which Colin talked about his two-wheeled invention.
He mentally put the pieces of the puzzle together. “When you heard about the restoration of the Guinevere—”
“I knew Colin would have taken what he valued most on the ship. I tried to visit it while it was being restored. Even with credentials, I couldn’t get access.”
“You broke into the museum,” Luna whispered.
“I didn’t have a choice. I’ve spent years trying to find the sketches. I’ve risked my career and lost money searching for them.” The man shoved the gun harder against her side, and she moaned. “Now, roll the tube—”
“Leave the slightest mark on Luna’s flesh,” Colin gritted, “and you will pay for it.”
“You’ll do what?” The man sneered. “I’m the one with the gun.”
Colin tightened his grip on the container. “Tell me this. You want the sketches. Why? To sell them to a museum? To provide a better life for your family?”
“What family? I don’t have kids. My wife divorced me.”
Smart woman.
“My colleagues refuse to believe that my relative invented the bicycle.” The man’s features hardened with anger. “Once I have the sketches, I can shove the drawings in their faces. I’ll show them I was right. I’ll be the most sought-after historian of this century.”
So he was motivated by greed.
Colin growled…and pushed the tube. Hard.
The man’s foot shot out to stop the container, but it rumbled past him. He swore. As his gaze followed it, he stepped back a fraction.
Lunging to his feet, Colin shoved Luna aside then kicked the man’s gun-holding hand. He yelped, but didn’t lose his grip on the weapon.
Damn.
“Go!” Colin pointed to where Roberta lay. Luna would be safe there. She could also check on the woman.
Luna ran.
The man snatched up the tube and swung the gun in Luna’s direction. Colin stepped between her and the gunman. The weapon pointed straight at Colin’s chest.
He locked gazes with the gunman. The beat of rain on the deck, the thud of Luna’s footsteps, the drumming of Colin’s pulse, all faded to a poignant cognizance that here, now, he could die.
But Luna would live.
Anguish gripped Colin. One day, once the horror of this incident had faded for her, she’d find a man who deserved her. That man would marry her and provide a loving home for her and their children. She’d be cherished, treasured—and she’d be happy; happier than she’d ever been. She might even think about Colin once in a while, but her focus would be on enjoying life with her husband.
Dying was a sacrifice Colin would gladly make…because he loved her.
The truth of that realization warmed him like a large swig of brandy.
He didn’t just care about her. He loved her.
Loved the sparkle in her eyes, the way she tucked her hair back behind her ear, the expressions she made when concentrating on her baking.
If only he’d had more days with her…but maybe there’d been a reason to his being brought through time, a reason he only understood now: to save her.
The gunman’s gaze sharpened. “Sorry, pal. I didn’t plan for anyone to die.”
He was going to fire the gun.
Colin clenched his hands. He’d die with honor, fighting—
Crash.
Across the deck, a display board had fallen over.
Hecate scrambled away from it.
Roaring, the gunman spun to face the cat.
Bang!
Wood splintered.
Luna screamed. “Colin!”
Colin lunged, locking his right arm around the gunman’s neck. Spluttering, the man rammed the wooden tube into Colin’s ribs. For a second, the deck became a blur, but Colin hung on.
The man made a choking sound.
“Drop the gun,” Colin commanded, his mouth near the man’s left ear. He increased the pressure of his arm.
The gunman flailed.
Bang!
He’d shot a hole in the railing.
With an angry hiss, Colin kicked the back of the man’s knee. As the bastard’s leg gave out, Colin grabbed for the gun. The man resisted, but Colin shoved him down to the deck. Facedown, spitting with fury, the man struggled and tried to rise, but Colin knocked him back down. He wrenched the gunman’s fingers open, freed the weapon, and kicked it across the deck. It disappeared under a heaped fishing net.
Colin glowered at the man, now rolling onto his back. Colin snatched the tube. “Sorry, pal.” He kicked the gunman in the head. The man’s body went limp, his eyes sliding closed.
He became aware of a woman shouting. “Colin!”
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Luna, peering out from the safe spot. When their gazes locked, she asked, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Hecate?”
He saw the cat huddled by the barrels. “Fine too, as far as I can tell.”
Luna breathed a sob of relief.
“How is Roberta?”
“She’s awake, but disoriented. I’ve called the police.”
“Good.” Colin gestured to the unconscious man. “I’ll take care of him. Then I’ll come help you.”
Colin glanced about the deck. He saw a coil of rope on an iron hook—part of the display on rope knots that Hecate had knocked over. Colin hurried to snatch up the rope then used it to bind the man’s arms behind his back and secure his ankles. The gunman wouldn’t be able to stand, let alone flee.
Picking up the tube again, Colin went to where Luna crouched next to Roberta. Luna held the older woman’s hand. Blood stained Roberta’s neck and shoulder.
As Colin knelt next to Luna, she discreetly motioned to the back of her head. The gunman had hit Roberta there. Anger churned within Colin that the man had not only struck a woman, but one who was elderly. He truly hoped she wasn’t badly hurt.
“How are you feeling?” he gently asked.
“I have a terrible headache,” Roberta said with a rueful smile. “Not seeing all that well, either.”
“You’re being very brave,” he said.
“I don’t feel brave.”
“Come now,” Colin soothed. “Think of the tale you’ll have to tell the other ladies of the Historical Society. Your grandchildren, too.”
Roberta’s expression brightened a fraction.
“None of them will have had such an adventure,” Luna added.
“Well, that’s true,” Roberta said.
Thunder growled overhead, and the older woman shivered.
“Let’s get you out of the rain.” Colin glanced at Luna. “The captain’s quarters are open, right?”
“Yes.” A curious expression flickered over her features. “You really need to look at the display there.”
“It’s settled then.” He handed Luna the tube. “Please watch over this for me. Would you mind going on ahead to hold the door?”
“Sure.”
Luna took the container then Colin slid his arms under Roberta and carefully lifted her into his arms. He carried her to the captain’s quarters, taking care to jostle her as little as possible.
“I can tell the others,” Roberta mumbled, “that I was in the arms of a handsome gentleman.”
Colin chuckled. “That would be partly right. I do consider myself to be a gentleman.”
Spying an upholstered bench that had been installed in the middle of the room so visitors could sit and leisurely study the paintings if they liked, he took Roberta over to it and laid her down. She winced as she settled on her back.
He pulled his shirt over his head. “Here.”
Roberta’s eyes opened. Seeing his bare chest, her e
yes widened. “Oh, goodness.”
Colin rolled up the garment. Leaning over her, he lifted her shoulders to tuck the makeshift pillow under her head. “I’m afraid it’s damp, but hopefully you’ll be more comfortable.”
“That’s very nice of you,” Roberta said. “Won’t you be cold?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Straightening, he glanced over at Luna. Her gaze snapped up from his naked torso.
Ha! He’d caught her ogling.
“You all right?” he asked, as her cheeks turned pink.
“Pretty much.”
Water trailed from the ends of her hair, and she appeared to be soaked from head to toe. But, he’d never seen her look more beautiful. He yearned to cross to her, pull her into his arms, and kiss her until they were both breathless with desire. He longed to show her just how true and deep his feelings for her ran. But, even as he thought to go to her, he heard the distant sirens. The police were on the way.
“I should find Hecate. Can you handle things here?” Luna asked.
“Aye.”
She hesitated, as though wanting to say more, but then walked outside into the rain.
Colin went to the end of the bench and sat beside Roberta. Her eyes were closed, but he sensed she wasn’t unconscious, just resting.
His attention shifted to the museum display. He rose as he saw the glass case holding the tattered cloth doll—the same one the Bell daughter had been holding before the wave had crashed into him, her, and Evelyn.
Memories crowded into his mind again: the briny tang of seawater; the gut-wrenching terror; the fearful expressions of the other passengers. Many of the artifacts had been donated by relatives of those who had survived the shipwreck. The display cases featured stained leather gloves, porcelain snuff boxes, silver combs, and more. According to the placard, the water-damaged trunk in front of him, a bit larger than the one he and Evelyn had brought onto the ship, had belonged to the Harrisons.
An oil painting hung above a case of jewelry. As he focused on the woman’s face, his heart froze. Evelyn. The painting was dated 1662, seven years after the Guinevere’s sailing. That meant Evelyn had survived the storm. If she had, surely their child had as well?
He sucked in a breath, almost afraid to look at the next portrait.
His whole body tensing, Colin shifted his gaze to the painted image: A seven-year-old boy.
A lad with intelligent eyes and a mischievous smile.
A fair-haired, blue-eyed son…who was the spitting image of Matthew.
Chapter Eight
Shock and confusion tore through Colin. The boy in the picture had to be the child Evelyn had been carrying when they were on the Guinevere.
Their son.
His son…who didn’t resemble him at all.
Sickening numbness coursed through Colin as he took in the portrait to the right of the boy: a painting of Matthew. Colin could easily guess why the lad looked like Matthew.
Could what Colin suspected of his wife be true?
He started reading the card on the wall by the painting. The boy’s name was Brandon Wilshire. Brandon was Colin’s middle name; the name he and Evelyn had chosen for their child if he’d been a boy.
Colin’s throat tightened, for after the shipwreck in which her husband had been declared missing and presumed dead, Evelyn had written to Matthew in England. She’d revealed that he, not Colin, was the father of her child. She’d always loved Matthew, but the arrangement that had bound her to Colin had forced her and Matthew to keep their affair secret. With Colin gone, they could be together for the rest of their lives. She’d begged Matthew to find her.
He’d written back expressing his true love in return and had traveled across the ocean to marry her. Evelyn had borne Matthew three more children, and they’d lived long and happy lives in Cat’s Paw Cove.
Copies of their correspondence were on display in a glass case. Colin knew their handwriting. The letters were genuine.
His gaze returned to his wife’s portrait. No wonder Matthew had wanted Colin to stay in England. Had Evelyn meant to tell Colin the truth about the child while they were together in their cabin, just before the tempest hit? Probably so.
Their conversation replayed in his mind.
“I was going to wait to tell you,” Evelyn said.
“Tell me what?”
She drew a sharp breath. “It’s…it’s about—”
Evelyn had thought they’d been about to die, and she’d tried to confess to him.
She’d betrayed their marriage vows, betrayed his trust, betrayed all that they should have meant to one another…and part of him was furious that she’d treated him that way.
But, even if she’d told him the truth about their son, he’d have supported her and the boy. Colin would never have forsaken them.
Evelyn had married for love, though. She’d found happiness, and he couldn’t help but be relieved and glad that all had worked out well for her.
He didn’t have to go back to 1645; not if he didn’t want to.
Hope bloomed within him.
Hope that for once, he had a choice in his own destiny.
Did he dare to hope that his future included Luna?
Luna finished reading Evelyn and Matthew’s letters in the display case. So, Colin’s wife had lied to him about her pregnancy. Luna’s chest constricted, knowing the betrayal he must surely feel. But would that be enough to convince him not to return to his own time?
Did she dare hope?
Tamping down a flicker of optimism, she glanced up at him.
Colin leaned against a post, his face an unreadable mask of warring emotions.
Hecate bumped against Colin’s shin and yowled over and over.
He stared at Luna. “What do you think she wants?”
Picking up the cat, Luna held her to her chest. “What is it, little one?”
Hecate wriggled out of Luna’s arms and ran to a closed door near the displays. She pawed the wall then sat down there.
Luna and Colin closed the distance to the spot. Colin tried the handle, but it was locked.
Hecate bumped her nose to the wood. The door shimmered and morphed into what looked like a high definition television screen. Through the opening, they could see a stormy sea, hear the howling wind, and even feel the sea spray.
The portal!
Colin gasped.
Luna’s chest ached. But she couldn’t stop him from returning to his time if that was what he wanted. If he did go back, she’d mourn him for the rest of her life, for what could have been. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to voice her opposition. Colin had to do whatever he thought he should.
Tears stung her eyes. She took his hand. “How do you know you’ll survive the storm?”
He faced her. “I don’t.”
The sirens grew louder. “Help is here,” Luna said. Her pulse pounding, she glanced through a small window to see several uniformed paramedics and deputies heading toward the ship.
Luna started to touch Colin’s cheek, but at the last moment, withdrew her hand. “If you’re going to leave—”
“I’m not.… Unless, of course, you’d prefer to be with someone else?”
Although Chuck was a nice man, she knew she’d have never grown her feelings for him, even if she hadn’t met Colin. “Never,” Luna whispered.
Colin drew her into his arms and kissed her. “Then my life…my new life…is here. With you.”
Hecate meowed and rubbed against Luna’s leg, purring loudly.
The portal shrank then closed up and became a plain old door again.
Colin held Luna’s face in his hands. “This is where I belong, Luna, with you.”
He was staying. She could hardly breathe. Her heart fluttered, and she felt as if she’d just drunk several glasses of champagne.
“Is everyone okay down there?” a deputy called from the upper deck.
Colin tipped his chin
toward the entrance. “We should—”
“Yup.” Drawing a deep breath, she picked up Hecate and she and Colin headed out of the cabin to join the officers and paramedics. “There’s an injured lady in the captain’s quarters.”
“The scoundrel responsible is out cold,” Colin added.
Minutes later, they told Sheriff Higgins what had transpired—leaving out the part about a portal opening to the past.
“I’ll need that tube.” Sheriff Higgins tipped his chin toward the cylinder under Colin’s arm.
“That belongs to me,” the thug muttered as two paramedics lifted him onto a stretcher.
“Actually, I believe it’s the property of the Historical Society.” RJ held out his hand. “May I?”
Colin’s jaw ticked, but after a few seconds, he gave it to Sheriff Higgins.
When Luna thought to protest, Colin squeezed her hand. “It’s all right. I have more important things to think about right now.”
Like her? She could hardly hold back a smile.
What choice had Colin had, though? He hardly could have explained to the sheriff that the tube belonged to Colin because he was a time traveler.
“What’s the attacker’s name?” Luna asked RJ.
The sheriff glanced down at the small tablet in his right hand. “He says it’s Otis Wilshire, but who knows? I’d like the two of you to come to my office and give a statement. It can wait until morning, though. Sounds like you two have been through it today.”
Luna nodded. “Of course. How’s Roberta doing?”
The sheriff’s lips flattened. “She agreed to go to the hospital to be checked out. How anyone could attack a sweet old lady like her is beyond me.”
“Only a scoundrel would do such a thing.” Colin dried off with the towel a paramedic had given him.
“I couldn’t agree more,” RJ said. “Rest assured, Otis—or whoever he is—will get what’s coming to him.”
“Thank you, Sheriff.” Colin shook hands with RJ.
“You’re new in town, aren’t you?” Sheriff Higgins asked Colin.
Luna slipped her arm around Colin’s waist. “He’s from England.”
Colin drew her closer. “I’ll be staying, though.”
Luna’s heart felt so full. She couldn’t remember ever being this happy before.
A Witch in Time Page 9
