eyes and hair and innuendoes. Damn, but he unnerved her.
âPlease, Mommy,â Casey begged, trying to tug out of Kateâs grasp. âDonât leave him alone.â
âHeâs crazy, Case. We donât need someone like that in our lives.â
âHeâs not crazy,â Casey said adamantly. âHeâs a pirate. If Daddy was here, heâd ask him to go home with us.â
âYour father invited home every homeless person he came in contact with. I didnât mind it when he was around, but I donât feel comfortable having strangers in the house when just you and I are there.â
âHe wonât hurt us.â
âWe donât know that, Case. Please, letâs not talk about this anymore. Weâve got to get home. Iâmsure Evalenaâs worried sick about us by now.â
Casey stopped dead in her tracks, stubborn yet again, and Kate rapidly counted to ten. Patience wasnât a virtue she possessed, and counting had been a habit since childhood.
âI think heâs scared, Mommy,â Casey said, looking toward the marina.
Kate didnât want to look back, but she couldnât help herself. Caseyâs pirate stood like a stalwart statue at the edge of the docks, his arms folded mightily over his chest. He was wearing his blue velvet coat now, even though heâd expressed his desire that she keep it. âTo protect your honor, madam,â heâd said. Ha! He sure knew how to play the gentleman, but he was anything but. That was obvious by the way he tucked his cutlass, his dagger, and his pistol under the wide leather belt he wore.
âPlease, Mommy. Letâs go back and help him.â
âHeâs a grown man, Case. Iâm sure he can take care of himself.â
The proof of her words stared her in the face. The usual throng of summer tourists flocked around him, flashing cameras, asking him questions, and he just stood there, as if he owned the world and was afraid of nothing.
He ignored the people around him, interested in something else entirely, something a good distance away.
Her .
Across the heads of women, men, and children, over the occasional car that passed on the streetbetween them, he stared, and she could feel the radiating heat of his one azure eye.
Her heart beat rapidly. A lump caught in her throat, and she found it difficult to breathe.
What was he doing to her? Get away , she told herself. Leave. Fast, before his incredibly gifted skills as an actor fool you into believing thereâs a nice guy under that scruffy beard and ugly scar .
âCome on, Case,â she said, the tone of her voice offering no room for argument as she tugged Casey up the street. âWeâre going home. Mr. Farrell will be perfectly fine now that heâs back in his element. Heâs an actor, not a pirate, and right now heâs doing what he does bestâentertaining the crowds.â
Â
The whole lot of them were mad, inspecting his clothing, his hair, the patch on his eye and the scar down his face.
âWhereâs your parrot, huh?â some nasty street urchin wearing short ragged trousers chortled. âDid you leave him on Treasure Island?â
âLook over here,â a woman called out, as she stuck a black box in front of her face. âSmile.â
Bloody hell! He would not smile, not for her, not for any of these people milling about. They were strangers, and he was in a world as unfamiliar to him as Queen Anneâs court.
âBe gone, all of you,â he bellowed, but the men, women, and children only laughed, as if he were a jester there for their entertainment. An actorâthatâs what Kate had called him. Well, he refusedto act or be the amusement for anyone. He was Morgan Farrell, and for the past six years heâd been commonly known as Black Heartâhero to some, enemy to many.
He shouldered his way through the crowd, running now in an attempt to catch up with