Hope, Hearts & Forever E-Book

Bartow Sophie

• Herausgeber: Two Hearts Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Enjoy this steamy small-town romantic suspense series, where family bonds run deep, and let the power of love sweep you away.

Can the Past Save the Present? 
Or is Hope Doomed?

Emma Foster and Killian Reade have finally set a date for their wedding. But as their special day draws near and the fate of Jonesy and his hope rests in their hands, will they really be able to say, "I do"?

For generations, a Spanish galleon has been the centerpiece in Swan Harbor. It belonged to a pirate who had loved and lost Hope Prince. With their journals revealed and Jonesy fading, it becomes a race against time to reunite the star-crossed lovers and keep hope alive.

Join Emma, Killian, Captain Jack, and the rest of their families as they learn the love story of Ian Jones and Hope Prince. As they follow in the lovers' footsteps, will they find the answers they’re searching for?

Can Jonesy, the embodiment of Swan Harbor's hope, be saved? Or is the town's hope destined to fade away?

Welcome to Swan Harbor
Hope, Hearts & Forever is Book 6 of the Hope & Hearts from Swan Harbor Series, as well as Book 5(Final Book) in the ‘Hope’ story. It’s a multi-timeline, secret relationship, mystery romance with a guaranteed happy ending. If you enjoy complex storylines that intertwine in unexpected ways, then you’ll adore the conclusion of Swan Harbor’s Hope series.  This is Book 6 of a 15-book complete series.
Dive into a copy of Hope, Hearts & Forever and let Ian and Hope’s romance spirit you away. 

Leseprobe

HOPE, HEARTS & FOREVER

A SMALL TOWN DUAL TIMELINE MYSTERY ROMANCE

HOPE & HEARTS FROM SWAN HARBOR

BOOK 6

SOPHIE BARTOW

CONTENTS

Hope & Heart Series in Order

Some residents of Swan Harbor

Some residents of Swan Harbor

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

My street team;

The Wall-Giennie Wicks-Delaney,

Connector Inspector- Linda Hagerty

Reactor Inspector- Jami Fenton

Plot Catcher- Barbara Berry

Sign Crew- Kate Semenyuk

The Clean-up crew: Debbie, Laura, Kim, Maggie, Sylvia, and Pam whose feedback was valuable.

And my family, who are still waiting for me to clean the house.

Inspiration began,

when a lost girl fell for a lost boy

Two Hearts Press

An imprint of LLIPSS, INC.

Copyright © 2021 by Sophie Bartow

Regular Paperback ISBN: 978-1-965510-15-5

Regular Print Hardback: 978-1-965510-26-1

Large Print Paperback ISBN: 978-1-965510-16-2

Large Print Hardback ISBN: 978-1-965510-17-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and places are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business or locales is coincidental.

Cover Design by Kate Semenyuk

FROM DARKNESS INTO LOVE

KITTENS, PUPPIES & LOVE

BROTHERS, HOPE & HEARTS

KISSES, FAMILY & HOPE

A TREE, MISTLETOE & A SUNSET

HOPE, HEARTS & FOREVER

THE MEMORY OF LOVE

THE INNOCENCE OF LOVE

THE FORGIVENESS OF LOVE

THE POWER OF LOVE

THE CHRISTMAS LOVE SONG

THE KISS OF LOVE

THE LESSONS OF LOVE

THE HEART OF LOVE

THE JOURNEY TO LOVE

Hope & Hearts Historical Novellas

GUIDED BY LIGHT - 1952

GUIDED BY HEART - 1964

GUIDED BY LOVE - 1969

WELCOME TO SWAN HARBOR- 1979

FINDING HER LOST HEART- 1983/1990

GUIDED BY A KISS - 1995

SOME RESIDENTS OF SWAN HARBOR

PRESENT DAY

Killian Reade: Investigator for the Swan Harbor Sheriff’s Department. Brother to Liam Reade and son of Finley Reade. Engaged to Emma Foster. Their story is told in Kittens, Puppies & Love.

Emma Foster: The Veterinarian and owner of Swan Harbor Veterinary Hospital. Daughter of Ava King and Peter Foster. Is engaged to Killian Reade.

Liam Reade: Chief Paramedic for the Swan Harbor Fire Department. Married to Elsa Winters. Their story is told in Brothers, Hope & Hearts.

Elsa Winters: She owns a pediatric practice in Swan Harbor and is best friends with Emma Foster. Married to Liam Reade.

Finley Reade: Owns a real estate business in New York City and is involved in a business venture in Swan Harbor. Father of Liam and Killian. He is married to Ava King. Their story is told in Kisses Family & Hope.

Ava King: Philanthropist and businesswoman. Mother of Emma Foster. Married to Finley Reade.

Aiden Jones: English professor at the Swan Harbor University. He is the cousin of Killian and Liam Reade and is dating Harper Taylor. Their story is told in A Tree, Mistletoe & A Sunset.

Cameron Hunter: The son of Mary and Clint and is an architect with HCI. He is married to Jessica Prince Hunter. Their story is told in From Darkness into Love.

Dylan Prince: The Sheriff of Swan Harbor and married to Molly BarnesPrince. He is the brother of Jessie and the late James and son of the late Ruth and Robert. Their story is told in The Innocence of Love.

Terri Patterson: Matriarch of Swan Harbor. Widow of the Dean Patterson and mother to Danny, Beverly, Troy, Laura, and Rhonda. Grandmother to many. Her story is told in Guided by Light.

Captain Jack: Retired Naval officer and local legend of Swan Harbor who gives out sage advice to the locals of the town. Owner of Captain Jack’s Fine Dining, located at the newly renovated pier in an old Spanish galleon. The Journey to Love.

SOME RESIDENTS OF SWAN HARBOR

1700S

Ian Jones: Captain of El corazón del Rubí. Ancestor of Killian and Liam Reade and Aiden Jones.

Geoffrey Prince: Sheriff of Swan Harbor. Husband of the late Christine Swan and father to Martin, Hope, Alan, and Luke. Ancestor of Dylan and Jessie Prince.

Hope Prince: Daughter of Geoffrey Prince.

Anne Michaels: Caretaker for Geoffrey’s children.

Isabelle Williams: Daughter of Anne Michaels.

Henry Patterson: Friends of Ian Jones and brother to Faith Patterson.

Faith Patterson: Brother of Henry and best friends with Hope Prince.

Kitty Swan: Owns The Weavers with her husband, Phillip. Hope’s aunt. Ancestor of Jack Swan, Ava King, and Emma Foster.

D.D. Timmons: First Mate of El corazón del Rubí. Father figure to Ian Jones.

Jenny Hunter: Friends of Hope and Ian. Married to David Hunter and mother to Gilbert and John. Ancestor to the Hunters.

ONE

QUICK NOTE: If you enjoy Hope, Hearts & Forever, be sure to check out my offer for more Hope and Ian at the end.

With that, enjoy!

* * *

Emma & Killian’s Home

February 12

6:00 a.m.

Emma Foster had been caring for sick animals for her entire life. Since becoming a veterinarian, she’d prided herself on her ability to ferret out the problems of her patients. Except she was helpless to cure Jonesy. His life and the fate of Swan Harbor’s hope were resting on her shoulders. Even in sleep, the feelings of inadequacy lingered.

“What did you find out?” Elsa asked, when she’d caught Emma checking on the swan.

“Cygnus olar, close to 63’’ long, and a wingspan of close to 94’’. Jonesy is a male and has been coming to Swan Harbor every June for years. He disappears in September or early October, depending on the weather.”

“Most of that, I could have looked up myself,” Elsa laughed.

“I know!” Emma threw up her hands. “I just don’t ...”

“So, it is his hope,” Else offered.

Emma whimpered and rolled over. She knew she was asleep but couldn’t seem to get her eyes to open.

“Jonesy has no parasites, hasn’t been poisoned by chemicals and all his blood work came back normal.”

“So, it is his hope,” Jack sighed. “I was afraid of that.”

“Jonesy,” Emma muttered and rolled over again.

“What are you going to do, mom?” Emma asked Ava. “Now that you know Jack’s your uncle?”

Ava smiled, “I’m going to help him find the key, whatever that is.”

“But,” Emma frowned. “I just ...”

“Have a hard time wrapping your scientific brain around the possibility a town’s hope can come from a swan,” Ava guessed.

“Well, yeah. Don’t you?”

“I’ll admit,” Ava grinned. “It is a huge leap to imagine such a thing. However, after fifty years, I’ve found my uncle. And for longer than that, he’s been looking for the key. So, maybe I feel like I owe him.”

“Mom,” Emma blew out an exasperated breath. “Do you really feel as if you should humor him?”

“Think of it like this,” Ava tried another tactic. “This is something he’s believed almost his entire adult life. My grandmother even included the information in her letter. He’s lost his mother, his sister, and my mother. And that doesn’t include the Prince women who’ve also died, supposedly because of the curse. Who is it going to hurt if we help him look?”

“But should we really ...”

“Who is it going to hurt?”

“But the truth ...”

“Matters,” Ava agreed. “Especially if it involves hurting others. So, I ask again, who’s it going to hurt?”

She’d tried to blow it off as the rantings of an eccentric old man. Until Jonesy started to deteriorate even more.

“Emma,” Jack exclaimed, “Jonesy needs to be free.”

“He’s safe in the zoo, Jack,” she’d tried to tell him. “He’s fed, and the temperature is perfect.”

“I know that,” Jack agreed. “But he needs to be free.”

“Fine,” Emma sighed. “Find me warm water and a place he can be sheltered from the elements.”

“I’ll do that.”

She’d not heard any specific talk about moving the swan for a few weeks. Until mid-January and Jack had turned up the guilt.

“I’m not sure Jonesy is going to last a month,” Jack cried. “However, I think I found a place where he can be free ... and safe.”

“Where?”

“The cave,” Jack replied. “Jonesy will have shelter. Will you meet me there?”

“Okay,” Emma agreed. When she arrived, she reminded Jack that the water in the cove was shallow and usually froze. “How will Jonesy be able to find food?”

“The water does freeze on this side,” Jack directed her to the other corner of the cave, “but look.”

Emma stepped to the front of the cave and had to blink several times. “What happened?”

Beyond the mouth of the cave, a pool had formed in the cove, perfect for Jonesy to swim and feed in. And with the boulders in front and the cave in back, he would be sheltered from the elements.

“Why isn’t the water frozen, Jack?” Emma asked. “It is on the other side of the rocks.”

“Feel it.”

Emma pulled off her glove and stuck her fingers in the water, “It’s cold but not too cold,” she told him. “How?”

“I checked it earlier today,” Jack told her, a satisfied smile on his face. “It was 60 degrees. Somehow, water from the hot springs is trickling down.”

The perfect place for the swan, and then he’d twisted the guilt screw just a little tighter.

“Emma,” Jack called, before she’d climbed into her van. “Have you and Killian read Hope and Ian’s journals?”

“We looked at them,” she hedged. “But with the holidays and all ...”

“Read them,” Jack implored. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

Killian had also added to the guilt.

“Jack wants us to read the journals,” she told him. “He doesn’t want to lose me.”

“I don’t want to lose you either, Doc.”

However, it hadn’t been until they’d started reading the journals she’d really understood everything. The swans were a bigger deal to the town ... and her family ... than she’d ever imagined. Little by little through the years, the number of swans that returned to Swan Harbor decreased.

Some people said that’s just what happened. Others said there’s plenty of hope left. Her Uncle Jack, though, felt that Jonesy, the only swan left, was living on borrowed time. And every day when she checked on him, he looked a little worse than the day before.

“Sadie,” Emma asked her office manager. “Can you reschedule my clients for me?”

“Sure,” Sadie frowned, “but what’s going on?”

“Jonesy,” Emma pulled up a picture of the swan. “He doesn’t look so good, does he?”

“No,” Sadie agreed. “Poor Jonesy.”

“Poor Jack,” Emma murmured. “He’s been caring for that swan for fifty years. If something happened to him ...”

Sadie winced. “Is that your way of saying Jonesy might die?”

“Swans typically don’t live as long as Jonesy has,” Emma admitted. “I worry.”

“If Jonesy ...”

What would happen to Jack if something happened to Jonesy? Would he be able to handle it? There was also the fear about Swan Harbor? Would it really fade away?

“No,” Emma murmured in her sleep. “I’m sorry.”

She whimpered and tried to push away the negative thoughts. Except no matter how much she tried, they kept weighing her down.

“No! Jonesy!” Emma sat straight up, her heart racing, and tears clogging her throat, at the image in her dreams.

* * *

“What’s wrong, Doc?” Killian pulled her back against him. “Nightmare?”

“I failed,” she murmured. “I didn’t believe Jack. And now ... Jonesy is dying.”

Somehow, he’d known that was what had woken her. Saving Jonesy and Swan Harbor’s hope by finding the key had been on all their minds. But hearing the anguish in her voice tore at him more every time she blamed herself.

“We checked on Jonesy yesterday,” Killian tried to reassure her. “He was fine.”

“Jack tried to tell me ...” Emma went on as if she hadn’t heard him. “I should have listened.

Killian tightened his hold to keep her from climbing from their bed. “Talk to me.”

For a second, she held herself stiff, and as much as he wanted to push the issue, he forced himself to wait. To allow her to remain in control, especially since that was much of the problem. She wanted to fix Jonesy but hadn’t found a solution. Finally, after several minutes, Emma linked their fingers and leaned back against him.

“Can we really get married with this hanging over our heads?”

Their wedding was on Valentine’s Day, which was in two days. They had been a couple for over a year and engaged for almost eight months. Yet something always seemed to get in their way. Was their happy beginning in jeopardy because they’d been unable to locate the key?

“We’ve talked about this,” he murmured, fighting the fear he’d been feeling since his own nightmare. “Jack believes our marriage will give Swan Harbor another burst of hope.”

“Will we be able to find the key before Jonesy dies, though? We’ve tried.”

“And we’ve made progress.”

“I know,” she agreed. “But it was my job⁠—”

“Doc, stop,” Killian interrupted. “Yes, you’re a veterinarian. But you said yourself, that avian medicine wasn’t your specialty. You⁠—”

“That’s no excuse.” Emma slid out of bed and disappeared into the closet. “Jack wasn’t the only one who told me Jonesy was losing his hope, so did Elsa.”

“Come on, Emma.” Killian climbed out of bed to meet her as she returned, pulling on a sweater. “We both know how that sounded.”

Plus, he hadn’t put much stock in what Swan Harbor’s eccentric resident, Captain Jack had said about the swan and his behavior. Until ...

“Even on our first date at Captain Jack’s Fine Dining,” Emma continued, “you told me Jonesy seemed so alone.”

“And you stated he’d probably lost his mate,” Killian reminded her. “His hope hadn’t been part of the equation.”

She was quiet, and for a second he thought he’d gotten through until he saw she was putting on her boots.

“It’s bloody early, Doc! Where are you going?”

Emma stopped in front of the mirror, ran a brush through her long blonde hair, and pulled it back into a ponytail.

“What is one thing you’ve pushed since the beginning of our relationship?” Her green eyes met his in the mirror.

Killian took a deep breath. Somehow, she’d outmaneuvered him.

“To share our burdens.” He took a step closer.

“That’s right.” Emma sidestepped him. “And I’ve been doing that. Telling you how I feel about Jonesy, and Jack, and this ridiculous notion that we can save the swan by finding a key. Right?”

“Yyyess,” he stretched out his answer. “I’m happy I’ve been there for you. It’s where I want to be.”

“Then why,” she backed him up, “have you refused to give me the same consideration?”

“I …” He paused, what he’d planned to saying fading. “Bloody hell.”

“What was that?”

“You win.” Killian sat on the bed and tugged her onto his lap. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Killian, I love you.” Emma leaned her forehead against his. “I know when you’re hurting. And you’ve been hurting for at least two weeks, but haven’t shared. That hurts me.”

“I’m sorry, Doc. It’s just not easy⁠—”

“—To admit you need help?”

“To admit I’m scared of losing you,” he clarified.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured. “Where did you get that idea?”

“Nightmare.”

“What happened?”

“We were worried about finding the key,” he began, “and Jonesy.”

“Both true.”

“When I woke up, you were gone and had left me a note,” he continued. “It said you were going to the cove.”

“Go on.”

“I drove out to the cove to check on you and ...” He opened and closed his mouth several times. But when he opened his mouth, the words refused to form.

“And what?” she prodded. “When you got there, Jonesy was dead?”

“No, Doc,” Killian whispered. “You were.”

“I was? Not Jonesy?”

“You had slipped on the rocks.” Killian shuddered, the image still crystal clear, even with his eyes closed.

“We can’t stop living,” Killian. Plus, this is my job.”

“But ...”

“I get scared when you’re on a case,” she went on. “But I don’t stop you from going to work, do I?”

“No,” he grumbled. “I’m trained⁠—”

“—And carry a gun,” Emma hummed. “I get that. I’ll be careful.”

Their eyes clashed in the low light of the early morning, and he wanted nothing more than to carry her back to bed. Except she was right. He needed to trust her, and they needed to find the bloody key.

“Alright.”

“Thank you.” She kissed him once more, and on her way out, handed him the charm bracelet that had belonged to her grandmother. “We know the answer is in these charms. You’re the investigator. Investigate. Just hurry, Jonesy is running out of time and if he dies ...”

For generations, the women in the Swan and Prince families had not lived to see their forty-fifth birthday, until Ava. And Emma was a Swan.

Killian grabbed her hand before she could leave and tugged her into his arms. He’d always felt protective, but since his dream, it had been difficult letting her out of his sight.

“I love you, Doc.”

“I love you, too.”

He kissed her and for the moment she was in his arms, he allowed himself to believe everything would be alright. That in the next few hours, they’d find the key, save Swan Harbor’s hope, and in two days they’d finally be married.

“Hurry,” Emma reiterated. Then, with another quick kiss, she ran down the stairs.

As soon as the outside door closed, Killian spread the charm bracelet on the table. However, before he had time to study it, their three Felis catus, Millicent, Trudi, and Nina, demaned his attention.

“You guys first, huh?”

Once he’d taken care of the cats, Killian set up his evidence board hand willed Ian Jones to speak to him.

The bracelet was silver, made from pieces of eight that had been part of the Spanish Treasury Fleet in 1715. Its charms were melted on and included a key, the number 2, a heart, an eye, a swan, a ruby, a timepiece, and a cluster of stars.

If he looked at them individually, the only one that meant something was the key, which had been used to open two locks. But was that it? Or would it be used again?

Killian pushed the bracelet aside and reached for the journal.

14, February 1720

Geoffrey was right, we do need a miracle for all the pieces to come together at once. But I have faith the higher power that guided me to Swan Harbor and Hope has a plan. Until then, the town will have to rely on the bursts of hope from the special occasions. And I will bide my time by lending my hope to the tiny town that holds my heart.

According to Captain Jack, the bursts of hope were no longer enough. While they’d been lucky with many pieces, they were still missing the most important one. Was this yet another task he needed to rely on others to complete?

A quick glance at the time had Killian grabbing his phone and hitting dial.

“Killian?” his father’s calm voice came across the line. “Is everything alright?”

“Emma had a dream Jonesy died. She’s having second thoughts about getting married until this is resolved.”

“What do we need to do?”

The sick feeling that had been creeping up inside relaxed at his father’s words.

“Emma went to the cave,” he explained. “Can you have Ava check on her?”

“Of course,” Finn assured him. “And you Killian? What do you need?”

The rest of the tension he’d been holding dissipated quickly. “Can you meet me at the ship?”

“The ship?”

“Aye. I have a hunch.”

“Alright, Killian. Shall I call your brother?”

“Would you?” Killian agreed. “Will you ask him to call Aiden as well? I’ll send a message to Dylan.”

“We’ll see you at the pier.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“It’s what families are for, Killian,” Finn reminded him. “We’ll see you there.”

Killian clicked off and sent a quick text to Dylan. Since the curse had begun with the Prince and Swan families, he knew Swan Harbor’s Sheriff would want to be involved. With the next step set, he went to shower.

* * *

Lover’s Cove

February 12

7:00 a.m.

When Emma arrived at the cave, her hands were shaking, and she couldn’t make herself get out of the van. She kept telling herself she shouldn’t have listened to Jack. That Jonesy was safer in the aviary at the zoo.

But if it’s his hope?

That the hope of Swan Harbor being tied to swans dated back to 1692 still made no sense.

And Killian’s dream?

She understood why he’d not shared it with her, but they both were guilty of holding back when they shouldn’t. Even though they had come a long way, they still had a lot to learn.

Which for some reason brought her back to a conversation with her new stepfather, Finn, who was her soon to be father-in-law. A situation that still felt a little like a soap opera.

They’d been dancing at Elsa and Liam’s engagement party.

“Elsa saidSwan Harbor has a way of reaching out and drawing people in.”

Swan Harbor is,” Emma finally settled on, “unique.”

Finn twirled her around a few times, his expression contemplative, “You two make it sound as if the town is a living, breathing entity.”

“There’s just something about living here,” Emma replied, “that gives you hope there is such a thing as a happy ending.”

“Or is it a happy beginning?” Finn suggested with a smile.

“The first day to the rest of your life,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I like that.”

Was her happy beginning doomed if she was unsuccessful in saving Jonesy?

She refused to believe that. They had all the pieces except one, and it was close. It had to be.

Emma grabbed her medical kit and hitched it over her shoulder as she carefully made her way to the cave. She expected to find the swan foraging in the warm water. When he wasn’t, her heart picked up speed. She climbed down into the cave, but again he wasn’t in one of his usual places.

“Jonesy?” she whispered.

A sound alerted her to his whereabouts. He had moved farther away from the water than she’d expected and was slumped over. His eyes were closed and the thought, he looks hopeless, floated through her head.

“Oh, Jonesy.”

Her eyes welled, but she shoved the tears down and took out her stethoscope. As she approached him, he opened one eye, and she was afraid he would try to get away. However, he was too weak. Slowly, Emma knelt next to him and laid the drum on his chest.

“Let me listen.”

A car door slammed, alerting her she was no longer alone, but her focus was on the swan. His heartbeat was faint, and so slow she was surprised he was still alive.

“Oh Jonesy,” Emma sighed. “I'm so sorry. How did you get mixed up in Swan Harbor's hope, anyway? I wish ...” Her voice died as the time for wishes was over.

A stillness settled around them for a second, and then he looked at her again. When her eyes met his, she couldn't stop a few fanciful thoughts from floating through her mind.

Just listen, his eyes seemed to say.

TWO

IT WAS 1717 AND…

Swan Harbor

May 1717

It was her youngest brother Luke’s third birthday, and this year had been no different. Their caretaker, Anne Michaels, had planned a party, and they were all expected to attend. Except just like the rest of her family, Hope Prince hadn’t been in the mood to celebrate.

Her father, Geoffrey, had been the first to disappear, most likely drinking in his study. Then, after the cake was cut, her oldest brother, Martin, and his wife escaped. Hope had tried to pretend, but the pain was still too fresh. Her grief still too close to the surface.

A half-hour later, she snuck out the back door, and started toward the woods behind her home. Unlike other times, though, instead of following the stream toward the cliff, she turned in the opposite direction. After a day of pretending everything was all right, she needed to hear her feelings mattered. Needed someone to tell her that what she felt inside was normal.

Except, the closer she drew to the tavern owned by the Patterson’s, her best friend’s family, the more she second-guessed her decision. Was it fair to take her morbid self into their home? To subject them to her sour mood?

But you have every right to your feelings.

She did, and she knew they understood that. Faith’s family had both drawn her closer and given her space for the last three years.

Hope had almost reached the tavern door when it opened and the raucous laughter from inside caused her to reconsider. She skirted around the building and headed back into the woods.

With every step she took, the feeling of being watched grew stronger. So much so, she ducked behind a tree and looked back over her shoulder.

A group of men were standing right outside the tavern and something about their laughter unsettled her. She knew they couldn’t see her, but that didn’t stop her from taking another step backward and pressing closer to the trunk of a tree. When she stepped on a twig, and it snapped beneath her foot, her breath caught, and fear of being noticed climbed inside. Especially when she remembered she had on a new gown, described as ‘sunshine yellow,’ that stuck out among the greens and browns of the foliage.

Hope gathered her petticoats tight to her legs and peered back around the trunk. The group had moved on, except for one man. Tall, dark, and ….

Dangerous, she couldn’t help but think. He was a pirate after all, and dressed accordingly. Black boots and breeches topped by a billowing black shirt that exposed his broad chest. However, the longer she looked, another word appeared … intriguing.

She stared, unable to look away, and then the strangest thing happened. He touched his chest, and the expression on his face changed. The look had her fading further into the woods, as it caused feelings inside she wasn’t sure how to describe.

“Don’t go off alone, Hope.”

“Those woods are not the place for a young lady.”

“Be careful, Hope. You never know ...”

Except, there was a stream that meandered up into the hills surrounding Swan Harbor that she couldn’t seem to stay away from. It was lined with wildflowers, berries, and small animals she loved to watch.

Yet, the feelings inside refused to allow her to enjoy what normally gave her pleasure. Instead, they pushed her forward, searching for peace, only settling when she was on the cliff overlooking the ocean. It was there, with the blue sea in front of her, the wind in her hair, and a field of wildflowers behind, her insides calmed. For it was there she felt closest to her mother.

Hope stepped near the edge, wrapped her arms around her waist, and held on. The pain, sorrow, and anguish she kept a tight lid on most of the time bubbled up and ... spilled over. It had been three years since her mother’s untimely death. Yet the pain never completely dissipated. Christine Swan Prince had been the light in their family.

When she had died after giving birth to baby Luke, everything had changed inside their home. The servants became more subdued. Her father spent more time away from his family and she, as the only girl, had been expected to take over. Until Anne, who had been her father’s nanny, had stepped forward. Then, Hope had been left alone ... just as she wanted.

Do you really?

That was what she told herself, anyway. If she wanted company, there were Faith and her family. Most days, they helped take some of the loneliness away.

During those times, Hope survived. Yet, it never stopped her from wishing for more. Wishing for someone or something to fill the hole her mother’s death had left in her heart.

It was those times she ended up on the cliff, staring out at the blue water, and the songs within spilled over. She sang from her heart, rarely paying attention to the words. As the haunting melody echoed around the town and out to sea, she was left open and vulnerable.

Hope knew people talked about her family. How could they not? However, since her father was the law, the talk was hushed and said behind their backs. And while it should have upset her, she was unable to make herself care. What mattered was searching to find the happiness her mother had promised was waiting.

Complete happiness had so far eluded her, but she could admit, with the return of the swans to the cove, she had felt a subtle shift inside. It was as if the force her mother believed they brought was being shared. That finally, what had been waiting had arrived.

Far below her, the swans that had been coming to their small town since her birth floated in the cove. The bank was dotted with females on nests, and just the glimpse had what suspiciously felt like hope blooming inside. Unintentionally, her melody changed, becoming lighter and brighter.

Hope was in the air.

* * *

El corazón del Rubí

May 1717

“Is the Siren singing again tonight, Cap’n?”

Ian tore his gaze away from the vision in yellow and relaxed his stance when his first mate, D.D., joined him on the bridge.

“She is.” His eyes drifted back to the lass on the cliff. “There’s something different, though.”

“Her song has changed.”

“You think so?”

“I do.” D.D. hesitated several moments before offering, “Today, there is more hope than sorrow in her song.”

“Perhaps.”

“You think not?”

“I...” His voice died when he was unable to find the right words. Once again, he lifted the spyglass and studied her features. Tall, slim, with a fair complexion and long red-gold curls. “She crossed my path earlier,” he surprised himself by admitting.

D.D. leaned against the railing and Ian could feel his friend’s attention on him, rather than their siren. “Is there a story there?”

“Not much of one.” Ian shrugged it away as if it were not important. “When I left the tavern, she was heading into the woods.”

And the yellow of her dress had caught his eye and in the vicinity of his heart a warmth had bloomed.

Except those were words he could not utter out loud.

“She’s young,” he settled on.

“Does she work at the tavern?”

“No,” Ian responded, then quickly amended his answer, “at least I do not believe so.”

“You sound besotted,” D.D. exclaimed, surprise in his voice.

Ian wanted to scoff at the possibility. However, the warmth in the center of his chest when looking at her had been new ... different.

“She’s young,” he repeated.

D.D. smirked, “So was my wife when I first met her, and look how ...” His expression sobered, and Ian knew where his thoughts had traveled.

Instead of responding, he turned his attention back to the cliff. Without his spyglass, he couldn’t make out the Siren’s features, but there was something about her that took his breath. Her long yellow gown rippled in the wind, and the way her arms were wrapped around her waist, told him she was in pain. What was it that could have brought such pain to one so young?

“Look at her,” he murmured. “What is her story?”

“With your penchant for stories,” D.D. teased. “I’m surprised you did not ask.”

“I wanted to.” Ian winced. “However, before I had a chance, she was gone. And then I ...”

“You were afraid?”

“No,” Ian denied. “It was her, who was afraid.”

“You are scary,” D.D. laughed. “Next time, try smiling.”

“Perhaps,” Ian replied before turning his back on the Siren, and to the reason they had gone into town, “Did you find any news?”

For a moment, D.D. looked like he was going to say something else, but with a shrug followed Ian’s lead. “That your friend Henry was seen with the First Mate earlier.”

“Henry?” Ian frowned. “Why? Where?”

“He is your friend,” D.D. pointed out. “Perhaps you should ask.”

“Perhaps I should.”

Ian had taken several steps toward the ladder when D.D.’s voice drifted through the air, “Perhaps you can also ask about the Siren.”

“Perhaps.”

“Ian,” D.D.’s voice was closer, “are you sure ...?”

“Stop!” Ian snapped. “The decision was made. We are here and must continue on the path to see where it leads.”

“But what if the path is not of our choosing?”

Ian blew out a breath, and once again glanced toward the cliffs, “Do any of us get to choose our paths, D.D.? Or are they chosen for us?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Ian acknowledged. “Sometimes, though, the decision is not ours to make. Are you coming?”

He was surprised when D.D. followed him quietly off the ship and toward the tavern. It was not like him to keep his thoughts to himself. Was there more going through D.D.’s head than he was sharing?

They slipped into the tavern and took a table in the corner. The noise seemed louder than usual, making him wish he’d stayed on the El corazón.

“Relax.” D.D. set two glasses and a bottle of rum on the table. “You might scare away the ladies.”

Ian poured a healthy amount of rum, tossed it back and poured again, “We are not here for the ladies.” However, if the vision in yellow happened to walk by...he would look. Anything else, he would see.

“Here comes Henry,” D.D. murmured. “Maybe he knows who the Siren is.”

“Let’s stay bloody focused, shall we?” Ian grumbled.

“Stop being surly,” D.D. tossed back.

“Professor ... D.D.,” Henry greeted them, “I thought you had business elsewhere.”

“Who told you that?”

“I heard,” Henry frowned and pulled out a chair. “What am I missing?”

Ian set his glass down and leaned forward, “Why were you talking to Sly Bill today?”

“Sly Bill?” Henry echoed.

“Black hair, and has a scar that runs from one eye to his chin,” Ian described the man.

“Oh, Billy,” Henry exclaimed.

“Billy?” Ian exchanged looks with D.D. and the thought, Were we wrong? flew between them.

“Yes, Billy Smith,” Henry went on. “Showed up sometime at the beginning of the year. Doc Williams patched him up and since, he’s been helping at the mill. Why?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I found him.” Henry looked from one to the other, “He’d washed up not far from the new lighthouse.”

“I trust you,” Ian responded. “But do not trust him.”

Henry laughed, “I’m not a greenhorn, Professor. Why do you believe Billy is not trustworthy?”

“Your Billy,” D.D. explained, “is not as innocent as he appears. He’s a pirate.”

“And?” Henry’s brows flew north, “As are you.”

Ian winced, his comments to D.D. earlier coming back around, “Some choose their journey, such as your Billy,” he offered cryptically. “And for others, the journey is chosen.”

“Which means?” Henry grumbled.

“It means,” D.D. offered. “You need to be vigilant around him and his kind...”

A flash of yellow pulled Ian’s attention away from the conversation to the corner of the room.

“The Siren,” he murmured.

“The Siren?” Henry repeated, looking over his shoulder, “Are you talking about Hope?”

“Hope.” The name rolled off Ian’s tongue as if it had been created just for him. “Her name is Hope?”

As quickly as she had appeared, she disappeared through a door that was nearly hidden from sight, “Does she work here?”

“Hope? Hardly.” Henry shook his head, “She’s my sister Faith’s friend. Why?”

There was much he could have said, but opted for the simple, “I heard her singing. She has a beautiful voice but seems so...sad.”

“From the cliff?”

“Yes.”

Henry shrugged, “Since her mother passed, Hope has struggled. My mother says give her time and allow the swans to rebuild her hope that tomorrow will be better than today.”

“The swans?”

“Of course,” Henry exclaimed. “You know the story of how Swan Harbor was discovered, right?”

Something inside Ian stirred and the thought, A story, flashed through his head. “I’m listening,” he responded, leaning a little closer, as there was nothing, he enjoyed more than a great tale.

“It started in 1692,” Henry began. “When my family and many others left England. The story goes that they had just about given up when a group of swans were spotted, led by a lone black one.”

“And the swans led them to this piece of land?”

“Yes,” Henry nodded. “They gave the settlers hope that something better was waiting for them. And Swan Harbor has flourished.”

Ian grunted, as he had not heard that before, but rather than asking more questions, he filed it away to research later. And while he wished for more information about the lass, Hope, he moved on.

“How’s the construction of the lighthouse?” he asked, knowing the device to guide ships around a dangerous area was something his friend was excited about.

Henry’s face lit up, “It is almost complete. I just need to...

* * *

The Patterson’s Home

May 1717

Hope ducked into Faith’s room and slid onto the floor with her knees bent, her gown billowing around her. It took several seconds before her pulse steadied. Once it did, her thoughts went back to what had happened as she’d passed through the tavern.

She’d been going in and out of those same set of doors her entire life and never had she experienced the same sensation. It had been as if she could hear another heart beating. Feel it racing alongside hers. Where had that come from?

Her head dropped onto her crossed arms resting on her knees, and her emotions rolled over her. While they were still heavy, they felt lighter for some reason. It was as if she...

When the door opened, her thoughts scattered. Hope shrunk back against the wall, not wanting to see anyone⁠—

“Hope!”

—except her best friend Faith.

“I’m so happy to see you,” Faith gushed.

Hope frowned at her friend’s apparent excitement, as surely, she remembered what day it was.

“Here I am,” Hope muttered. “Did you need me for something?”

Faith giggled and twirled around, and the first thought that flew through Hope’s mind was her friend’s happiness involved a boy.

“He’s here,” Faith sighed, falling back on her bed. “Did you see him?”

“Who’s here?” Hope questioned.

“Him,” Faith repeated. “Henry’s friend.”

“Henry’s friend?” Hope echoed.

“The Professor,” Faith reminded her. “I told you about him.”

Hope thought back on their last few conversations. And, while she had a vague recollection of Faith being excited about something, she realized she must have missed much of what had been said.

“I’m sorry,” she admitted. “Tell me again.”

“The Professor,” Faith repeated, “is a friend of Henry’s. He is also a pirate.”

That last bit had come out in a whisper, and Hope found she had to rush to catch all the pieces and connect them.

“Henry has a friend ... who is a pirate,” Hope murmured. “But he’s called The Professor?”

“Yes!” Faith nodded her head exuberantly. “He’s really, really smart.”

“If he was smart, he would not be a pirate,” Hope pointed out.

“Oh, Hope,” Faith sighed, completely ignoring the comment. “You should see him. Tall, dark wavy hair that touches his shoulders. Brooding dark eyes and a mouth that⁠—”

“Faith!” Hope interrupted her friend.

Faith giggled. “I was wondering if you were paying attention.”

“Of course, I was,” Hope assured her. “Why were you looking at this man? I thought your parents wanted you to marry Benedict.”

“Pah!” Faith wrinkled her nose. “He’s just a bore.”

“True,” Hope agreed. “But I thought it had been decided.”

Faith shrugged. “I understand my parents’ marriage was arranged, and it seems to have worked out. But come on, Hope! This is 1717. I want to choose the man I’m to spend my life with. Do you not wish for the same?”

The feeling inside, when she’d seen the man outside the tavern, flashed through her mind. It reminded her of the stories her mother had told about fighting for her father, Geoffrey.

“I think so,” Hope admitted quietly. And because she wanted to listen and not think, she encouraged, “Tell me about your professor.”

“My professor,” Faith giggled. “I wish.”

“What do you know about him?”

“He’s the Captain of the ship El corazón del Rubí. His all black clothing makes him look…”

Hope’s attention spiked at the mention of all black, and she remembered the man whom she’d seen outside the tavern.

“Dangerous?” she supplied, even though that word was not the one she would have chosen.

“Yes.” Faith buried her face in her hands and when she looked back up, her dark eyes were sparkling, and her cheeks were pink. “He makes me feel⁠—”

“—Like you are being pulled toward something you have no control over,” Hope murmured, finally able to label the feeling she’d experienced when her eyes had met those of Faith’s professor.

“You do know!” Faith exclaimed.

“I do,” Hope acknowledged, but refused to say it was in reference to the same person.

“I just have to get him to notice me,” Faith murmured. “Maybe the next time he comes into the tavern, I can...”

With every new suggestion, the pain in the center of Hope’s chest grew. She had known Faith her entire life, and there had never been anything but support between them. Why was it that suddenly she felt they were on opposite sides of something?

THREE

Timber Creek, Maine

July 1717

6:00 a.m.

Ian kicked at the burned out remains and studied the carnage around him, “There’s something different about this village. It’s almost too ... perfect.”

D.D.’s brows shot up, “How so?”

“I cannot say ... yet.” Ian placed his hands on his hips and turned completely around, his gaze drifted from one pile of debris to another. “There is ... too much consistency,” he finally offered.

“Meaning?”

“Remember the last village, Pine Bay?” Ian pointed to the building they were standing next to and then to the closest pile of debris, “Everything was burned. But here, what do you see?”

He waited while D.D. studied the area around them but had no doubt the older man would come to the same conclusion.

“Piecemeal,” D.D. finally proclaimed. “Most of the buildings appear as if they just toppled over.”

“And every few piles were set on fire,” Ian nodded. “But why?”

“Hiding something⁠—”

“—Or someone,” Ian murmured, as an idea began to crystallize in his head.

“Someone?” D.D. looked at him as if he had grown an extra head. “What are you thinking?”

Ian glanced at the pile of wood and rocks next to where they were standing. “Help me!”

After several minutes of moving debris and not making much progress, Ian called for some of the crew to help them.

“Listen.”

What he was hearing sounded more animal than human but after another layer was uncovered, they realized an underground chamber had been found.

“A dog?” D.D. murmured.

There was something about the pitiful sound that had a chill race up Ian’s spine. They pushed aside the last layer and the sight huddled in one corner had his stomach twisting,

“Children.”

“And their dog,” D.D. whispered, his eyes meeting Ian’s. “But where are their parents?”

It was several more moments before they were able to lift the children and their dog from the depths of the pit. Except they were so frightened, if Ian’s reflexes had not kicked in, they would have run.

“You have children, D.D.” Ian nodded to the boys. “Now what?”

D.D. squatted in front of the oldest child. “Here now. Do not be frightened. You are safe.” His voice was low and soothing. “What are you called, Son?”

A second passed, then another, and the young body trembled under his hand. Then, gradually, Ian felt his muscles relax.

“John, Sir,” the child responded. “My name is John. This is my brother Gilbert and our dog Mutt.”

The scraggly dog whimpered and pressed tighter to the smaller boy, and once again Ian had to fight off the memories.

“Where’s your⁠—?”

“Cap’n,” Freddy called from several feet away, “there’s more.”

Which he had somehow expected, he realized, not surprised by the news.

“What did you—?” Ian was cut off mid-question when, all around him, there were more shouts.

“Here’s another!”

“And two more!”

Then the younger lad, Gilbert, stiffened. “Mama?”

“Gilbert! John!” Ian heard before he was roughly pushed away. “Get your filthy hands off my boys!”

He was taken aback for a split second by her cloud of red-gold hair as she tore the boys from him and wrapped herself around them. It had been over two months, yet each time he saw hair resembling that of the Siren’s, the warmth in his chest bloomed.

“We mean them no harm, Mistress,” Ian tried to assure the mother. “We were just⁠—”

“Hunter,” she spit. “Mistress Jenny Hunter, Pirate. And I know exactly who you are.”

Ian exchanged glances with D.D. “Tell me, who am I?”

Her brown eyes flashed hatred and slowly, Ian began putting together the pieces.

“Listen up,” he demanded, his usually quiet voice louder, more forceful, earning him the attention he desired. “Gather the survivors and take them to the ship.”

“The ship?” the woman screeched. “We’ll not go with you.”

“And what will you do?” Ian questioned. “Stay and wait until the pirates return?”

She blanched and there was a part of him that regretted his harsh words. “Where are the men?”

Jenny dropped her eyes, refusing to look at him.

“This was staged,” he tossed out, satisfied when she glanced back in his direction. “But please tell me they are not out searching for El corazón de la Rosa.”

Their eyes clashed in the early morning light, and then, he saw a crack in her armor. She whispered something to John, and after he’d taken his brother’s hand and the boys were far enough away, took a step closer.

“Yes,” Jenny hissed. “Many of us have survived an attack by the pirates sailing on El corazón de la Rosa. When they began to prey on our new village, we decided to take the law into our own hands and go after them⁠—”

“—Before they could come after you?”

“Yes.”

“How long have you been hiding in these underground dwellings?”

She shrugged. “Just a couple of days.”

“How did you know it would work?” Ian asked. “That the black-hearted bloke who captains the Rosa would not set fire to everything?”

What little color was left drained from her face, and he saw D.D. step closer to catch her lest she fall.

“We prayed,” Jenny admitted. “Then we got word the ship had bypassed us and was on the way north.”

Ian’s blood chilled at her comment. “North? What do you know?”

“Our men,” she pointed into the lush foliage that surrounded the area, “they went through there, toward the town where the Rosa was heading.”

“By foot?” Ian frowned.

“No, by horse,” Jenny clarified. “There is a small town about a day’s ride ... called Swan⁠—”

“—Harbor,” Ian finished.

“Yes,” she nodded. “The men hoped to gather more citizens in Swan Harbor to fight the pirates. They hoped there would be strength in numbers.”

“Sometimes hope is not enough,” Ian murmured, not realizing how cynical he sounded.

“Sometimes hope is all you have,” Jenny retorted.

“She’s right,” D.D. agreed.

Ian nodded in acknowledgment and gave orders for everyone to board. There was no time to lose.

“How did the Rosa slip past us, D.D.?” he asked his first mate. “And will we be able to catch them before they do to Swan Harbor⁠—”

“Stop!” D.D. demanded. “We will catch them.”

“How can you be so sure?” Ian questioned, the older man’s hope still strong after so many months.

“Hope,” D.D. whispered. “Because without it, my life would be worth nothing.”

“Hope,” Ian repeated.

While he gave the orders to set sail toward Swan Harbor, Henry’s story about the swans bringing hope filtered through his head. Behind those thoughts were ones of the Siren. Was she still making her trips to the cliff to sing? If so, there was a part of him that hoped today she would stay home. Especially, if as was thought, El corazón de la Rosa was on its way there. He hated to think what would happen to her, and her town, if the men were set free.

* * *

Swan Harbor

July 1717

8:00 a.m.

When Hope heard Geoffrey’s boots outside her door, she jumped from the bed and peered out her window. It wasn’t long before his loose-legged walk carried him to the barn. After a few minutes, he led his stallion outside and climbed on. Then, once he’d ridden out of view, she rushed to get dressed.

Hope tossed her sleep shift one direction and pulled another from the drawer she had altered to wear beneath her ‘riding’ clothes. The shortened shift slipped over her head, stopping mid-hip, and she covered it with one of her older brother’s shirts. She had a pair of his breeches halfway on when her door was suddenly pushed opened.

“Hope!” Anne whispered. “Please tell me you are not planning to ride.”

“I cannot,” Hope hedged, even knowing it would not get her far.

“But Hope,” Anne pleaded. “You heard your father last night. There are pirates ...”

Except every time the word pirate was uttered, Hope kept seeing the tall, dark man Faith called Professor. If, as she’d expected, he was the man outside the tavern, his return did not instill fear inside of her ... but intrigue.

“I will be fine.”

Anne shook her head, “How can you guarantee no harm will come to you?”

Hope studied the older woman and, while on one hand, she understood where the worry came from ... on the other ...

“If I show you,” she began. “Can I trust you to keep my secret?”

A pinched look crossed Anne’s face, as if she couldn’t believe what she was about to say. “Fine.”

Hope fastened her breeches and opened her wardrobe, taking out the sword she’d been learning how to use.

“Hope!” Anne practically screeched. “What? Where?”

“Uncle Phillip,” Hope admitted.

“Does your father know your Uncle is encouraging this behavior?”

“What do you think?” Hope dropped the sword and tied a piece of rope around her waist. “Of course, he does not know. But are you surprised?”

“No,” Anne shook her head, “especially not after what happened to your aunt.”

Hope grimaced and stepped in front of the window, using it to see her reflection while she twisted her hair on top of her head. She covered it with a cap and turned back around.

“Even father admits no one knows who attacked Aunt Kitty,” Hope admitted. “But Uncle Phillip just wants me to be safe.”

“Is he teaching your cousin too?”

“Ellie? Yes.”

“There is nothing I can say to stop you?”

“Not today, Anne.” Hope slipped the scabbard over her head, the sword draped across her back. “I will be fine,” Hope promised the older woman. “Just fine,” she reiterated on her way out of her room.

“Eat something,” Anne’s voice followed her down the hall.

Except Hope was too excited to take much time, and instead filled the breeches’ pockets with nuts on her way out to the barn. If she got hungry, there were wild berries in the woods.

Her horse was waiting for her and nickered softly as soon as she entered the barn. Big Red had been her gift from her parents for her thirteenth birthday. Easily standing fifteen hands, he was a magnificent beast.

However, since he had been sired by her father’s prized stallion and her mother’s beautiful mare, it had been expected. He was temperamental and allowed no one else to ride him. Hope knew the minute she climbed on his back, he would feel her mood; for they were connected.

“Hello, Big Guy,” she murmured as she fastened his saddle and led him into the yard. “Are you ready to run?”

He nickered and bobbed his head as if he understood, but otherwise waited patiently for her to finish her tasks. Hope climbed on and his muscles quivered in anticipation.

“Ready?” she whispered, tightening her knees against his big body.

Big Red tossed his head in the air, gave a spirited whinny, and took off.

The freedom Hope felt spilled over as his walk moved into a trot. When his speed increased to a canter, she couldn’t keep her laughter inside. By the time he had reached full gallop, she was bent over his neck, pushing him forward with her soft-spoken words.

The wind whipped her cap off, but rather than stop, she glanced over her shoulder and wished it farewell. Her long red-gold hair flew around her head. With the smell of wildflowers in the air, and the warmth of the sun on her skin, she didn’t care.

She lost track of how long they rode but, as if Big Red knew what she needed, he led her toward the cliff. Just as she had for the past two months, she immediately checked the dock. His ship wasn’t there, but somehow, she knew he would soon return to Swan Harbor. It was how she knew that made no sense.

Her attention drifted to the swans below, where the nests were empty, and the white birds dotted the cove. She was too far away to see clearly. Yet, she knew the swan that had appeared the year after her mother’s death was there. Majestic, graceful, leading her young around, just not the four that had hatched, as only two remained. Was there a meaning there she was missing?

The sound of Big Red’s whinny was her first inclination she was no longer alone. Slowly, Hope turned to see three men step around a group of boulders, the menacing look on their faces sending a chill through her.

“What ‘ave we ‘ere, Mates?” the tallest of the three questioned.

Hope measured the distance between where she was standing and her horse. Could she make it? Should she try?

As if anticipating what she was thinking, one of the men cut away from the others, heading for her horse.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Hope asked, more bravado in her voice than she was actually feeling.

“‘E’s a ‘orse, Missy. I know ‘orses.”

“Not this one,” Hope pointed out, edging away from the cliff, farther into the field of wildflowers.

“‘E’s a ‘orse,” the man repeated, reaching for the reins.

Hope opened her mouth to warn him, just as Big Red blew out air and reared up on his hind legs.

“Bloody ‘ell!”

He jumped back, and thinking she had an opening, Hope took several more steps, except she had forgotten the other two men.

“Going somewhere?” the tallest asked, the threatening note in his voice sending another shard of fear through her.

She wasn’t sure what, but something reminded her of the scabbard hanging on her back. Suddenly, Hope pulled her sword and moved into the stance, just as her Uncle had shown her.

“Stay away,” she growled, jabbing the sword toward the closest man.

“Oh, lookee ‘ere,” he chortled to his friends. “The missy wants to play. I’m game.” His sword was brandished, and he struck first.

The clang of metal on metal kicked Hope’s adrenaline into high gear. He was stronger, which meant she had to be smarter. But while she was able to back him up a step with one move, his next would bring him closer.

She lost track of the time, the sweat rolled down her face and her muscles began to wear. The thought she should have listened to Anne had just flown through her mind, when a dark head appeared up over the cliff.

“Looking for a fight, Fellas?” the man she’d seen outside the tavern asked conversationally as soon as he was standing on the cliff.

“Leave us be,” one man yelled. “We found her first.”

The man Hope had been fighting jabbed his sword toward hers, and because her focus was broken, he knocked it from her hand. She sent panicked eyes first to her horse, then to the newcomer.

“Go!” he screamed, running in her direction. “Go!”

Hope heard a cry and looked around to see more men running from a copse of trees in the distance. Were they friend or foe? flew through her head.

“Go!” The man cried again.

Big Red reared, pushing the man closest to her back, giving her space to make a quick decision. Hope grabbed her sword, threw herself on the horse’s back and before she was even seated, they were running.

Just before she was swallowed by trees, Hope looked over her shoulder. The scene had that sick feeling in the pit of her stomach clenching. Was that it? Had the Professor just sacrificed himself for her? If so, how was she going to explain what happened to her father...and to Faith?

* * *

El corazón del Rubí

July 1717

9:00 p.m.

Ian groaned, unable to pinpoint which part of his body hurt most.

“Shhh,” a quiet voice whispered, seconds before a cool cloth brushed across his forehead.

He struggled to organize his jumbled thoughts, but the more he tried, the worse his head pounded.

“Just rest,” the voice murmured.

Except without more knowledge of where he was, and what had happened, Ian fought the need to give in to the darkness. What...

...standing on the deck...

...Siren...but not...

...frightened sound from a horse...

...Go!...

As bits and pieces of information floated around inside his brain, another groan escaped.

....follow them...

But...

...go...go...

“No worries,” the quiet voice murmured, soothing the cloth on his hot face.

...come on...

...walk with me...

...trust...

More fragments filtered in and out as Ian remembered leaning on his friend, Henry. He dug into the last remaining bits of his energy and forced himself to focus.

The gentle sway told him he was on his ship. However, the hands touching his brow were unfamiliar. He forced his eyes open, but even with the moonlight filtering in through the portholes, his vision was hazy, “Henry?”

“If you believe that,” a melodic voice laughed, “I might need to call Doc Williams again.”

That warmth in the center of his chest bloomed and spread out, as the woman who had been invading his dreams for months was standing in his cabin, “My siren.”

“Your siren?” she questioned.

Of their own accord, his lips curved. The skin pulled taut, and the pain had a hiss escaping instead of clever words.

“Now, look what you’ve done,” the Siren scolded. “You’re bleeding again.”

The cool cloth returned. This time, though, to dab at his mouth, and the metallic taste of blood touched his tongue.

“Rum,” he croaked, thinking it would not only take the taste away, but the pain.

“It will sting.”

“Rum,” Ian repeated, ignoring the stubborn tone in his voice.

“Well, if you insist.”

He tracked her movements across his cabin, and it wasn’t long before she returned and handed him his flask.

“Do you need help?”