Free Looking for a Hero by Patti Berg

know the intricacies of all those cities. This place may bear a striking resemblance to St. Augustine, but I assure you, it is not.”
    â€œYes, it is,” the child said, making him feel even more the fool. “I was born here. Six years ago.”
    He shook his head slowly, trying desperately to understand what was going on around him. “When last I was here, Spanish warships blockaded the harbor to keep the British away. Houseshad been destroyed by cannon fire, and there was no bloody bridge across the river.”
    â€œThat bloody bridge has been here for a good seventy years, and it’s been centuries since there were any Spanish or British warships in the harbor. You know what I think, Mr. Farrell? I think you’ve damn well lost your mind, because I seriously doubt you were here in the eighteenth century.”
    â€œI was here in the year of our Lord seventeen hundred and two—”
    â€œYes, of course you were,” she interrupted. “And I’m the Queen of England.”
    â€œYou are no Queen Anne, I can assure you of that, madam.”
    â€œKnock it off, will you? Your accent’s convincing. You look crude enough to be a pirate, but I’m not falling for your pathetic little act.”
    She took a deep breath, working up the energy to lecture him more, he assumed. “Once we’re docked and I make sure you’re off the boat, you can argue the progression of St. Augustine history with someone else.”
    â€œAren’t we going to take him home with us?” Casey asked.
    â€œNo, Case. We won’t be seeing Mr. Farrell again.”
    â€œYour mother and I have differing opinions on that subject,” he said, kneeling before the child. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from her lips, but Kate slapped his hand away.
    â€œDon’t touch her.”
    â€œHe won’t hurt me, Mommy.”
    â€œI don’t want him near us.”
    Morgan winked at the little girl whose lower lip had jutted out, then rose to his full height, towering over the woman as he moved close to her side.
    â€œAre you afraid of me?” he asked.
    Kate looked up. Her pretty pink lips were pursed tightly, her green eyes squinted into a frown. He had the oddest feeling she was contemplating aiming her knee at his groin once more.
    What a damnable woman she was, but he admired her spirit.
    She nudged him out of the way as she tacked again. “I’m not afraid of you or anyone else.”
    â€œThat’s not entirely true, madam. Your entire body bristles whenever I near you. Either you’re afraid of me, or some other emotion—desire, perhaps—makes you shiver.”
    â€œYou’re a smug bastard, aren’t you?”
    â€œMommy! That’s a nasty word.”
    â€œThe child’s correct. I daresay, one might mistake you for a barroom wench when you continually use such language.”
    â€œAnd it’s quite obvious you’ve known a lot of barroom wenches.”
    â€œI’ve known a few. I choose to know no more. They may have the same devil in their tongue that you possess, but they have not the same fire in their eyes. You may wish to be free of me once we’ve docked, my dearest Kate, but I do not wish to be free of you.”
    â€œWhat are you, some kind of lunatic?”
    He looked at his unfamiliar surroundings, at the harbor filled with small sailboats, at the beautiful woman and heavenly child who’d appeared in his life when he least needed them. “I am not mad, madam. I am merely a man who finds himself in unfamiliar surroundings, a man who would greatly benefit from your continuing generosity.”
    â€œI’ve already given you enough, Mr. Farrell.”
    â€œThat is not possible, madam. There is much, much more I would have from you.”
    Â 
    With Casey’s hand held tightly in hers, Kate rushed away from the boat, away from the marina, and away from Morgan Farrell and his blasted