Free Prize of My Heart by Lisa Norato

boy nodded enthusiastically. “Uh-huh.”
    This made Brogan wonder whether Louder had won the boy’s affections. Then a thought jogged his memory. George . Could this be the same George who had called him a pirate to the boy?
    Lorena removed the sling from Drew’s back pocket and smoothed down his pumpkin jacket. She drew him into the pew behind her, and Brogan followed, anxious that he should sit beside his son.
    Huntley joined the group, flanking Brogan’s other side. “Drew, why aren’t you in Sunday school?”
    Lorena leaned forward and whispered across the pew, “I’ve excused him today, Papa.” Lavender fragrance wafted up from her hair as Brogan contemplated the delicateness of the hand resting on the boy’s knee. “I felt it would be beneficial for him to sit through a sermon. As I’ve explained to Drew—if he wishes to be like David, he must learn David’s wisdom.”
    Huntley’s grin delivered an instant twinkle to his eye. “If he can sit patiently through a sermon, he’ll be well on his way. Patience is the first step towards wisdom.”
    “Last week we learned again of David and Goliath,” Drew said. “Do you know the story?”
    “I am familiar with the story, aye,” Brogan replied, perplexed by the boy’s challenging glare. The strings of the bass viol began to play as the musician prepared to accompany the choir. The choirmaster walked onto the platform, and silence fell over the congregation in anticipation of the services about to begin.
    “My apologies, Captain,” Miss Huntley whispered, embarrassed. “Seems he’s in a mood to talk this morning. Quiet,” she warned the boy.
    Drew crossed his arms, turning his back on Brogan. “But he’s sitting in my seat!”
    Nathaniel Huntley chuckled as he faced the pulpit, making himself comfortable on the cushioned seat.
    Brogan felt uneasy seated between the man and his daughter in a house of worship. Neither of them suspected his relationship to Drew or the real reason he had come to Duxboro. They had no way of knowing the child they escorted to meetinghouse every Sunday morning would soon vanish from their lives.
    How could he tear Drew away from the family he obviously loved? But what if Huntley intended to exploit the child once he grew old enough to be of service? The man had conspired with Abigail to steal another’s son. He was no innocent, surely. But if these were indeed the good, kind folk Jabez claimed, then how could Brogan remove Drew from the only home he remembered, and yet how could he conceive of walking away from him?
    Had he tied his cravat too tight or had a wave of conscience arisen to strangle him? Brogan pulled at the neckerchief, longing for a vast blue ocean and its briny spray, his only concern that of which direction the wind was blowing. Because of Abigail, he was forced into this situation. Even dead, the woman continued to make his life miserable.
    Brogan rehearsed Jabez’s advice in his mind and wondered where he should go from there. He longed for Drew to know him, and Lorena was his only means of accomplishing that. But what could be more awkward than trying to capture a woman’s fancy while seated in the hushed stillness of a religious sanctuary, her father at his elbow?
    Brogan did not care for the confinement of these holy walls. They induced a strange emotionalism that stunted the reckless cunning he knew himself capable of.
    Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught Lorena’s reflective gaze. Encouraged, he returned her appraisal. She started and lowered her lashes. He had frightened her.
    This was getting him absolutely nowhere.
    How ill at ease she looked, fidgeting with the boy’s sling on her lap. Brogan longed to reclaim her attention, to still her hands with one of his own, but he had already insulted her with his forwardness in the shipyard. He did not wish to do so again. Why was it one moment he found her such an annoyance and the next a sweet innocent he felt inclined to protect?
    Nay,