Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, and I make no money from this work of fiction!
Captain Daniel Gregg studied the book Carolyn Muir had left on her desk. She had opened it to a page that had quotes from various people about 'sailing.'
"Must be doing research for yet another story. She should really ask me, by rights," he muttered.
Then he read the quote from someone named Oliver Wendell Holmes.
'Greatness is not in where we stand, but in what direction we are moving. We must sail sometimes with the wind and sometimes against it – But sail we must, and not drift nor lie at anchor.'
Looking out the French doors to the bay, the Captain pondered the words. As a spirit, he was no longer sailing, with the wind or against it. He was standing still. The sea called, but he was unable to respond as he wished. Instead he was anchored to Gull Cottage, yet adrift in time.
"This Holmes character is trying to say I am not great?" His lips twisted wryly. He was a super-spirit . . . But he was a spirit.
Just the other evening, the Williams' had arranged Carolyn's wedding to the man they thought was Captain Gregg. Shuddering at the thought of that miserable excuse for a man pretending to be Captain Daniel Gregg, the Captain wondered what Carolyn would have done had he not discovered her Mother's plan in time. Would she have turned back at the altar, or, horror of horrors, would she have had to go through with it and actually have married that imposter?
The Captain thought of himself as a loner. In his lifetime, he had not once succumbed to the hordes of women who followed him, or the Mothers who tried to 'catch' him for their daughters. He had come close – With Vanessa, but in the end had decided that his freedom was too precious, the sea too alluring to want to marry and settle down. If the truth were told, he had never loved anyone as much as he loved Carolyn.
He had never even believed it possible to love someone with his whole being! It was quite possible…Had he found her in his lifetime and had she so desired, that he would even have given up the sea for her. He would do anything, go through anything, to marry her. Yet he could not. He was many lifetimes too late. To add to the barriers between them, however, was one he considered almost insurmountable – He had lied to her.
In the beginning, the night she first met him, he had said she had nothing to fear from him since he was only an illusion. The weeks had passed, and his attraction to her had grown. He knew, without conceit, that the desire was reciprocal. Yet once he realized how deep their feelings were, it was too late. He could only perpetuate the illusory myth. As a gentleman of honor, he could do no less. He had lied to the woman he loved, and he continued to lie with each passing day! With an inward, despairing groan, he vanished.
Carolyn found him on the widow's-walk after her parents left, and tried to speak with him about the night of her parents' anniversary. She wondered about the gift of the pearls, she asked about Claymore and how Gull Cottage had come to be his, and she daringly mentioned the vows she thought he had taken that night, asking if he had truly meant them the way they sounded.
Frustrated, he finally said quietly, "Mrs. Muir, you must stop questioning me, or you will set my mind on a path you would never willingly walk."
Carolyn heard the silken sound of his voice and then realized what he had said. She looked at him, at those intense blue eyes of his. Their gazes clashed – Both a meeting of strong wills, and a small male and female battle of tempers. The moments stretched as they took each other's measure, probing beyond for the weaknesses and the strengths. Then, without another word, she spun on her heel and left him to his thoughts.
For a week, Captain Gregg brooded over his existence. He avoided all contact with the inhabitants at Gull Cottage, and his distress ate into his very soul. Within him dwelt disquietude, a perturbation, a discord, and an anxious dread of an unknown something with which he dared not even to make acquaintance.
Finally he thought of the Danish theologian he had read while on one of his voyages when he was still alive, a man who wrote about despair being a sickness even unto death. Kierkegaard had written that a sickness of the spirit is within everyone, and not even the spirit involved is necessarily aware of its presence. But he was! Oh – now he was! He felt as if he had been flung into the veritable depths of despair . . .
Coming into her room one morning prepared to work, Carolyn was horrified to find the Captain standing barefoot at the French doors, which were open wide.
"It is so blasted hot in here!" he said.
Carolyn shivered at the blast of cool sea breeze coming in the windows. A storm was brewing, and the air had turned cold. "Captain, it's not hot! May I shut the windows, please?"
"Nay! I cannot bear to be stifled aboard my own ship!"
"But I have to work! I have a deadline. And it's freezing in here, thanks to you!"
"Madam, this is my cabin, and I will thank you to let the breeze cool it down!"
"That's no breeze, it's a blasted hurricane!" He did not answer, so Carolyn threw up her hands in resignation. "Very well." She went to the top of the stairs and called down to Martha, asking her to make and bring up a pot of hot tea. She came back into the room to discover the Captain trying to strip off his jacket.
"Captain . . . ?"
"So hot . . ." he moaned, his eyes closed.
Carolyn peered at him. He looked flushed. What on earth . . . ?
Dropping the jacket on the floor, he struggled with his turtleneck. "Must get into my bunk . . . Cannot collapse on the deck . . ."
He stumbled over to the bed, and began to weave a little as he pulled the sweater over his head. Uneasy and concerned, Carolyn hovered, having turned down the bedclothes, hoping she could get him into the bed should he slump to the floor. Her mouth was dry as she took in his magnificent torso, various scars adding to the mystique of the Captain. Then he was unbuttoning his trousers, and before Carolyn could avert her eyes, he was naked. She was not a prude, she was certainly not a naive young girl, but neither was she prepared for the sight of the Captain like this! Resolutely keeping her gaze on his face, she persuaded him to lie down.
"I'm cold," he muttered, rather petulantly, contrary to his previous assertions.
"I know." Her voice was soothing, and he sank on to the bed with another groan. Carolyn quickly threw the bedclothes over him. She wished she knew what had happened to cause this sudden malady. The Captain had arrogantly assured her that he had never been sick a day in his life or since, and now he was shivering and as helpless as a child was.
Martha came in at that point with a pot of hot tea. She halted in the doorway and stared. "What on earth . . . ?"
"The Captain . . . He's sick." Carolyn said.
"Sick? He's dead!" Martha advanced a worried look on her usually beaming face. "How can he be sick?" She whispered, eyeing the form lying on the bed.
Thankful that he had gotten into bed and covered before Martha's arrival, Carolyn shrugged and said, "He's hot, then cold."
"Some kind of fever. I wonder if it's contagious? I never heard of catching anything from a ghost before." Martha observed the tremors getting worse, and added, "I'll fetch another couple of blankets. Maybe he can sweat out whatever is the problem. Do you think he has spiritual malaria or some such nonsense?"
Shrugging, Carolyn put a little of the tea in a cup. "I'll try to give him some of this. Keep the children out of the room, all right?"
"Sure thing. It would never do to have them see their hero brought so low." Martha turned, then swung back. "You all right, Mrs. Muir?"
"Of course!" Carolyn was startled.
"You're a writer – Not a nurse. Just thought I'd check."
"I'm a Mother, too. I've nursed both Jonathan and Candy when they were sick. And Robert was ill for a month before he died." Carolyn spoke softly, her gaze on the Captain.
Martha pursed her lips speculatively, her bright eyes moving from her employer to the prone figure of the Captain. His eyes were closed a look of pain etched on his face. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.
"Cold . . . So cold . . ." he muttered.
"Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't even mention this, but it is the '70's – You are a respectable widow, and for all he was probably a hell-raiser in his day and is a handsome old goat, the Captain has always said he is an honorable ghost . . . " Martha sighed. "Too bad you can't crawl into bed with him and warm him up that way."
"Martha!" Carolyn was a little shocked at her suggestion.
"Just a thought." Martha shrugged. "I suppose we could call a Doctor . . . " Her voice trailed away. Carolyn just stared at her, and Martha shook her head in disgust. "Now I know I'm losing it! Forget I said anything." And she hurried out in search of more blankets.
Bending over the bed, Carolyn was startled when the Captain's hand shot out and clamped over her arm just above her elbow. She bit back an involuntary cry of pain as he pulled her closer. Her fingers brushed the whiskers on his face, and his grip tightened as she tried to pull away. Electric sparks were traveling up her arm. How was it possible that she could feel him? He was supposed to be an illusion! He was supposed to be . . . Safe!
Unbalanced by both her last thought and the Captain's tug, Carolyn landed sprawled across the Captain's chest, her wide eyes fixed on his unseeing countenance. "Captain Gregg?" She spoke tentatively.
As if in answer, his free hand curved around the back of her neck and he pulled her closer still. Unbelievably, his mouth closed over hers, his heat branding her lips. Safe! This was supposed to be a safe relationship! Carolyn's thoughts were scattered. She had dreamt of being in the Captain's arms, but had never believed it could possibly happen. Then the Captain's caress took all thoughts out of her mind, and she returned his kiss eagerly, her body relaxing over his.
At the sound of the door opening, she raised her head suddenly, flushing with embarrassment. What would Martha think of her?
Martha came in and did a double take at the sight of her employer lying on top of a very solid-appearing spirit. "You can touch him?" Then she rallied almost immediately, "Well, you took my suggestion to heart, I see! But I meant right in with him, not just on top! I actually read a book once where the woman got in bed with the man to keep him warm and it saved his life."
"Martha, he doesn't have a life to save!" Carolyn protested, trying to squirm her way out of the Captain's arms. But he winced with pain and rolled, pinning her partially under him. Unwilling to hurt him, she met Martha's eyes. "Martha, I have a book about ghosts in the bookcase downstairs, behind the encyclopedia. Maybe you could find it and look up illness in it . . . We might be able to find some reasons for this sickness, and who knows, there might be some answers or some remedies!"
"I'll go right away." Martha said, but she didn't move. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the Captain.
It might have been coincidence, but at that moment the Captain's eyes opened. He blinked a few times, then realized he was sprawled over Carolyn. Flopping back onto his back with a muttered, "Sorry . . . But, so cold . . . " He retained his grip on her arm.
"Snuggle up, Mrs. Muir . . . He says he's cold." Martha shook her head, and turned away with a faint smile. "I'll get the book."
'How could Martha have asked her to warm the Captain this way? Surely Martha had no idea what she had been feeling for the Captain! Martha could not know of the hunger that prowled now, or the need that arose in her to change nightmares into sweeter and more powerful memories. Martha mustn't know of her longings to hear the Captain cry out her name in the heat of passion . . . If Martha knew, she would not have told her to stay there, in his bed!
Subconsciously, Carolyn had been afraid to come too close to anyone again, afraid to commit herself to another man . . . She had cared so much for Robert, and his death had almost destroyed her. She hadn't realized she was keeping her emotions at bay, tamped down behind a barrier she hadn't even known existed.
The cold, empty place inside had become a place of refuge over the years. A place without pain – A place where she could lock away all emotion and be numb. However, right from the moment she first met him, Captain Daniel Gregg had blasted her shield away, his arrogance aggravating her to the point of tears. Every encounter with him dissolved another piece of her armor, and it wasn't long before she needed a new barrier to hide behind…This time from the Captain.
Carolyn struggled to come to grips with her feelings now. She loved the Captain, but she had moved past the frustration of not being able to touch him . . . She had thought she had, that is – Until he kissed her. Now she was in turmoil again. Yet perhaps, after all, she no longer needed that icy place within herself. She had been given a gift . . . Love. What is more, she had been given love again. Love would allow her to be Carolyn once more. Open and loving through and through, as she had been once. As she was now with Daniel. Forever. Forever.
Absorbing the heat of his body, Carolyn locked her arms around the trembling figure of the Captain. She sensed the loneliness in him, the darkness, too. She knew he could be harsh and tender by turns. Touching him was both torment and pleasure. This was a haven she could steal for a little while. She had to stifle the flare of sensual awareness that made its presence known. But she reveled in the touch she had thought impossible.
Incoherent muttering came from the Captain much of the time, and very occasionally remarks she could understand. "I am a man of the sea! I cannot give that up . . . Even for you, Vanessa. Finally found my True Love one hundred years too late . . . Blond, petite, enchanting . . . Sunshine of my existence . . . How can I bind her to me? Yet how can I continue this existence without her?" "The children . . . Love her children . . . As my own . . . They deserve better, so much more than I can offer . . . I am less than nothing . . . What will she say when she knows I lied?" His voice was anguished with the last question.
"Who?" Carolyn couldn't help but ask. "Who, Captain?"
"My Carolyn . . . I lied to her . . . God forgive me, but I lied . . ."
Her arms tightened around him. "How? What did you say?" He had told her he cared in so many ways, although not in so many words. He could not have lied about that, could he?
He tossed his head, moving restlessly again. She was afraid he wouldn't answer, but finally it came in a hoarse whisper, "I said I was only an illusion. But we can touch . . . Had I not lied in the beginning . . ."
"It's all right. You are forgiven! It was a necessary lie . . ."
"No . . . Not honorable . . . "
"Captain, you are full of honor!" Carolyn insisted, holding him close. She had to make him understand that she knew why he had lied. "Mortals are strange, as you've said yourself. They fear what they do not know. You said what you did, not simply to hurt, but to reassure. It's all right. Really! Trust me, Captain Gregg. It's all right."
"Really?" His voice was faint, but the longing for her affirmation was obvious.
"Really. Rest now. It's all right, Captain."
Daniel drifted in and out of consciousness, finding it almost impossible to distinguish between feverish dreams and reality. He ached all over and could not stir himself or open his eyes. Dimly he heard a voice and imagined that it was his Carolyn . . . That he was holding her close to him . . .
"This fever rages despite everything we've done." He knew that crisp voice.
"Oh, Martha, I'm so afraid . . . " Carolyn's voice broke off.
He had to let her go. He wanted to sink back into the comfortable darkness and escape the heat. He forced his hands to release their grip. She could not be saddled with someone such as he . . . Someone who was less than a man . . . Someone who, despite his great love for her, could not provide for her every need.
"I am nothing," he whispered. "No longer a seaman, no longer a man. Nothing." The darkness pulled at him and he fought it with all his might. The bed tilted as she stood up, and he groaned with the pain caused by her movements as much as by the fact that she was leaving him.
"Martha, Martha – Do you think he can hear us?"
"Hard to say. What's that nonsense he's spouting about being nothing?"
He felt Carolyn's soft, cool hand on his forehead and she bent closer.
"Captain?"
With all his will, he struggled to communicate something to her, but fog drifted in and blocked out all awareness.
"Oh, Mrs. Muir, I just thought I'd tell you that Jonathan and Candy are making some Willow Bark Golden Elixir."
"Some what?" Carolyn had thought she was past all surprises, but obviously she had been wrong.
"The Captain's 'miracle cure.' Jonathan said. He remembered the ingredients and watching the Captain make it that time you had the Virus X." Martha shook her head in amazement. "He and Candy picked all the ingredients they needed in the garden…and are cooking it on the stove right now. He said to tell you that the Captain would be fine if he drank it all . . . It'll have a good keel under it."
Carolyn gave a short, bitter laugh. "I hope there was enough brandy left to do that! We haven't bought any, you know."
"Brandy?"
"That's the keel!" Carolyn shook her head. "Never mind. Where's the book?"
"Right here. I can't find anything about ghosts and sickness, though. They appear healthy for all they're dead."
"There has to be something!"
"Well, this part about seeming to be an illusion, yet at times can be tangible . . . Do you think maybe he's feeling guilty because we never knew we could actually touch him?" Martha asked.
"Oh, Martha, I'm ready to believe anything. But how would feeling guilty make him sick?"
"There are lots of mysterious things in the world, Mrs. Muir, not the least of which are ghosts!" Martha spoke grimly. "And he seems terribly worried about not being a man. I can't understand that. If he were a man, he'd be sick nigh-unto-death at this point in time."
Carolyn looked at her sharply. Something in Martha's words had struck a chord. She remembered reading about Kierkegaard and his 'Philosophy of Despair.' In fact, it was in this book! Flipping to the index, she looked up the Danish philosopher. "Listen to this, Martha!" she said excitedly, and read:
'Despair is a phenomenon of the spirit, is related to the eternal, and therefore has something of the eternal in its dialectic. Despair is the most dangerous sickness of all.'
"Hmm." Was Martha's only comment for a moment. Then she looked at Carolyn. "But is there a cure for his despair?"
Searching for a moment, Carolyn finally closed the book and shook her head despondently. The Captain was worried because he could not provide for her and the children? He was feeling guilty because he had lied to her? Well, if despair was the cause of this strange illness, what could she do? Talk to him? He seemed beyond that! She took the now-warm cloth off his forehead, immersed it in the cold water and wrung it out, taking out her frustrations on the material.
As she put the cold cloth back on his head, he stirred again, becoming restless, trying to speak. His voice was hoarse, his eyes wild. He obviously was not fully coherent, as he caught Carolyn's hand, branding it with his heat. "Carolyn, if I have to go . . . "
She bent over him solicitously. "Daniel, you won't . . . "
He didn't seem to hear her – Tossing his head fretfully. "If I go, Carolyn," he repeated, "Promise me . . . "
"Promise him anything, Mrs. Muir." Martha advised in a low voice. "He's getting agitated. It can't be a good sign. It never is in humans, anyway."
"Promise, Carolyn, that you will stay at Gull Cottage forever." The Captain was insistent.
"Not without you," she spoke firmly.
His eyes seemed to focus for an instant on hers. "You care that much for me?" He sounded incredulous.
"I do, Daniel." Carolyn vowed her heart in her eyes and her sincerity evident in her voice.
He squeezed her hand tightly.
"I do, Carolyn."
"I now pronounce you husband and wife." Martha spoke dryly.
Carolyn looked back at her, startled. Martha shrugged and smiled. "Seemed like the thing to say."
"Carolyn . . . " The Captain's voice was weaker now. "I would be willing to be tied to your apron strings, to be by your side forever."
"A Match Made In Heaven." Muttered Martha. "Just what you want hanging off your hip for the rest of your life . . . Apron strings, indeed!" She ignored Carolyn's frown, and pushed the water closer. "Put this cloth on his head . . . Cool him off some more! That heat is causing him to hallucinate. When did he start calling you Carolyn, anyway? I always thought he was so proud of his honor and his respectability . . . Didn't think he had it in him to be so familiar!"
"Carolyn . . . "
"What is it, Daniel?" Carolyn ignored Martha and bent closer, her hand smoothing the heat of his forehead. Wincing, she fumbled for the cold water, wrung out the cloth and smoothed it over his hot, sticky skin.
"Carolyn…What if I die?" His voice was full of pain and despair.
The women looked at each other, stunned.
"Do you think he might . . . Well, not die, but go? Disappear . . . Forever?" Carolyn whispered fearfully.
"I don't believe it . . . " But Martha's voice lacked conviction. She stepped closer, seeing the Captain's glassy eyes close. Her lips tightened. "He's slipping away, going into a stupor. Mrs. Muir, call him back! You are obviously his lifeline, so to speak. It's up to you, Mrs. Muir, to keep him here! If you ever loved him, now is the time to get him back. You have to do it. It sure won't do any good for me to try! Talk to him, touch him, love him and convince him he has to stay . . . "
"If I love him . . . ?" Carolyn was surprised. Had her feelings been so obvious all along?
Martha gave her an impatient look as she hurried out the door, calling back, "I'll go see if Jonathan and Candy have that medication ready – Although it's a strange day when I trust a child to cook weeds on my stove in the name of healing!"
Carolyn bent over his prone figure, her fingers gentle on his forehead. She brushed her lips across his, and spoke into his ear.
"Daniel, please. I love you. Come back to me. I need you."
He heard the voice . . . But the words did not make sense. She loved him? Him?
"Daniel, its Carolyn. Come . . . Be with me again. I love you. You're arrogant and impossibly vain . . . " Her voice cracked. She steadied it and continued, "And devastatingly handsome and you mean more to me than you have ever guessed. I do not want to live without you by my side. Oh, Daniel, My love . . . "
The blackness encasing him eased somewhat.
"Daniel, I need you . . . Just you. I need your presence with me. I don't care about anything else. I forgive you for not telling me that you can be tangible. Oh, Daniel, I know we have a lot going against us. But we have so much going for us! We have our love. Please, Daniel, come back."
Through the fog, Daniel felt invisible weights falling away. Could she be right? Could love be enough?
"I want . . . want you to know how much . . . " She stopped to steady her voice, "Daniel, I love you. I know that no matter what I do or where I go, you will welcome me home with open, encouraging arms. You simply wait for my return. You are the keeper of my heart." She drew in an uneven breath.
"My love, you have taught me so much! Every time I sit down to write, I know that even when I feel like a failure, there is someone near who believes in me, who has given me all the strength and courage and faith and love I need to survive the times of doubt. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't laugh or cry or write or love the way I do. If you need my forgiveness, you have it freely and gladly. Oh Daniel, please, come back to me. Love me. Love me forever."
He had to speak. How could he not? Joy was flooding through him. She did not consider him a burden to be born. She loved him as he loved her! He gathered all his strength, and was amazed at the feebleness of his voice as he managed just the one word.
"Carolyn?"
"Daniel!" The happiness in her voice threw him.
Then Martha was back in the room, a glass in her hand. Jonathan and Candy peered in the door, their faces anxious.
"Mom? He'll be all right, won't he?" Candy asked.
"I think so." Carolyn felt exhausted after the strain of the last few hours. "Don't worry any more."
"Is it the Ague?" Jonathan questioned.
Staring at him, Carolyn said, "Why would you think that?"
"Well, you had it last year. I helped him make the Willow Bark Golden Elixir, and I remembered how this time."
"I helped." Candy added.
"And I tasted it. Mrs. Muir. Remember when you had the Virus X, and I was talking about that terrific vegetable broth I had made, then couldn't ever duplicate?"
"Yes . . . "
Martha held up the glass. "It was the Captain's Elixir! No wonder I've never been able to make it since! And no wonder you said it tasted like your medicine! Ah, well, my moment of glory was 'fleeting' but it was great while the broth lasted! Now, let's see if we can get it down him!"
She held the glass to the Captain's lips and Carolyn raised his head a little. Candy and Jonathan were wide-eyed. "Mom! You can touch him! Is he like that because he's sick? Is it making him more solid or something?"
"Could be." Carolyn said. "This is the first time I've realized I can do this."
"Bet you're happy now." Candy grinned.
Jonathan looked at his sister with a puzzled expression. "Why now? The Captain's sick! Why would she be happy?"
"Jonathan, you're such a baby!" Candy rolled her eyes.
"I am not!" he shouted.
The Captain moaned, and the children instantly quieted, even without the quelling glance from their mother. She soothed the Captain, and encouraged him to drink every drop of the elixir. Then he seemed to drift off into a natural sleep.
Martha pondered. "Never thought about ghosts sleeping before, but maybe that's why everyone talks about 'eternal rest' after you die. Somehow I just never heard of a bed being an eternal resting-place. Okay, kids let's go. I'll get you a snack before bed. Do you want anything, Mrs. Muir? You haven't eaten since morning."
"I'm really not hungry, Martha, thank-you. I'll just stay up here, I think."
"Well, call if you need anything else. Looks like the Captain will be out for the rest of the night."
Carolyn smiled. She went to the door and kissed Jonathan and Candy goodnight, then went back and sat on the chair by the bed. She didn't want to leave him. Martha came in a couple of hours later to report that the children had gone to bed. She brought the Captain another glassful of elixir.
"Seems to have done some good. Don't see why not – It is his own recipe! Wonder why Jonathan could remember that, and has trouble remembering to take out the garbage?"
Chuckling, Carolyn again held the Captain's head, and the two women managed to get him to drain the glass without rousing him.
"He's pretty quiet now, isn't he, Mrs. Muir?" Martha commented.
"Yes."
"Can't say I ever thought I'd see him lying in front of me like this. For all he's sick, he's still an eyeful! Hope he's not a handful for you tonight!"
"I think I can manage, Martha."
"I'm sure you can – Well, good night, Mrs. Muir. Remember, don't hesitate to call if you need me."
"Thanks, Martha." Impulsively she kissed Martha's cheek.
Martha's skin turned a mottled color. "Save your kisses, Mrs. Muir. Maybe you can put them to better use sometime – Although I shouldn't be putting such ideas into your head! Still . . . Looking at him there, I guess it's pretty safe to leave you two alone . . . "
"Martha!" Carolyn exclaimed.
Laughing, Martha left the room. Carolyn shook her head, then looked down at the Captain for a moment. He was quiet. Wondering what Martha would have thought had she realized he was naked under the covers, Carolyn suddenly saw his clothes still on the floor by the window where he had discarded them. No wonder Martha had been making all those comments! Carolyn's face burned.
At last, tired from the day, Carolyn couldn't sit up any longer. She hesitated only briefly, then, still dressed; she lay down on the bed beside the Captain. He had rolled over on to his side. Carolyn snuggled up to his back and hooked her arm over his body, pulling him close. He murmured slightly, and cradled her hand in his. Carolyn slept.
The next morning, she awoke to his voice.
"Carolyn?"
She opened her eyes, and found herself lying in the circle of his arms, his blue eyes looking at her lovingly. This strange malady had hit with a ferocity and swiftness that neither could understand. Strangely enough, it seemed now to be going as fast as it had come.
"Carolyn?" He repeated her name and his arms tightened around her. He exerted just a bit of pressure, urging her closer.
A forbidden feeling of relief and tenderness and love swept through her. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. She knew what he wanted, and she wished she could grant him his desire. And her own. She should hate him for all he had done to shatter her peace, but instead she loved him for all he had done in the last few years to bring her back to laughter and love.
He said plaintively, "I think a kiss would make me better." His mouth captured hers.
For a brief moment, she resisted. Her practical mind realized that he needed his rest, and that her spirit could not take such strain. But her body had other needs that overruled. She heard herself moan. She wanted more. More than pleasure. More than passion. She had tasted those before. The feelings churning inside her made her ache and yet frightened her, too.
Then suddenly he released her. She stared at him. Thoughts and emotions shuddered through her. She still felt the wanting. Still tasted him on her mouth. Desire for him rose so powerfully within her that she shook from its force. She closed her eyes. It had been so long . . . Too long since she had been held! She leaned into him again.
"Carolyn? Carolyn," he said softly against her mouth. "Tell me to stop . . . "
"I can't." Her fingers traced the lines of his shoulders and neck. "I can't." She sighed again as she relaxed fully against him. "Never, never stop, Daniel."
"Ordinarily, I would take you at your word, my dear." He finally raised his head, regretfully easing away from her. "But I fear that we will not be alone too much longer, and I am feeling rather . . . Vulnerable . . . At this point. I cannot compromise you . . . "
"What a word!" Carolyn laughed, but she slid out of the bed and gathered up his clothes, handing them over to him. "I'll be back shortly. I'll just go down and let everyone know you're better. I'm so glad you are, Daniel." She leaned over him again, and kissed him one more time. "I love you," she murmured.
"Be gone, wench, lest I entrap you forever . . . "
"You already have."
"And I thank the powers for that! I love you, Carolyn." His lips were tender on hers. Then he gave her a slight push. "Off with you. I will be down anon."
"Aye-aye, sir!" Saluting smartly, Carolyn left the room.
Martha was already in the kitchen when Carolyn appeared. She turned and eyed the younger woman, noting the wrinkled attire. "Well, Mrs. Muir, looks like you might have got a bit of sleep . . . In your clothes!"
"Yes." Carolyn yawned, and headed for the coffeepot. "But the Captain is better."
"I must confess I suspected as much." Martha gestured to the pots and pans. "I've been making a fancy breakfast . . . Like the ones Claymore ordered when he was stuck here for a month one week."
Carolyn chuckled, not bothering to reprove Martha. That week Claymore had spent with them while he had a slipped disc had indeed felt as if it had been a month!
"Mrs. Muir . . . " Martha spoke somewhat hesitantly, a troubled look appearing in her eyes as she studied her employer's lovely face. "I must confess to being, well, a tad worried . . . I mean, who ever heard of a ghost being sick? And even though I suggested it, there you were with him in the . . . Alone all night long . . . And the Captain being solid and all . . . "
"My virtue is still intact, Martha," Carolyn reassured her, but the color rose in her cheeks. She refused to acknowledge the small voice clamoring in the back of her mind, 'so far.' She poured her cup of coffee and took a sip, closing her eyes gratefully at the flavor and escaping from Martha's keen gaze.
"Ah – The fallen hero has arisen!" Martha spoke up. Carolyn looked around to see the Captain had appeared in the kitchen. "Do have a seat, Captain Gregg! I've made you a special breakfast, suitable for someone arising from death's-bed.
As Israel Shenker said once, 'This has 'savoir sufficient to lure the wispiest ghost into corpulence.'"
Carolyn's light laughter floated through the room as she winked saucily at the Captain. "That I'd like to see . . . A corpulent Captain Gregg!"
The Captain chuckled. "Why, Martha, I didn't know you cared!" He grinned unrepentantly at her until Martha found her voice.
"Captain Gregg, I'm warning you . . . " She shook the spatula at him severely. "You hurt Mrs. Muir, and I will call every medium known to man, as well as every priest, to exorcize you! She's done enough crying . . . "
Ignoring Carolyn's sudden movement, the Captain spoke smoothly. "Martha, believe me, I would exorcise myself before hurting my beloved Carolyn." Gallantly, he bent over Martha's hand and kissed it.
Martha snatched her hand back. "None of that!" she grumbled. "I don't hold with such goings-on."
"Not with a wispy ghost, only a wispy man?" The Captain teased her.
"Ed is not wispy!"
"Certainly not – If you keep feeding him your cherry pies, he won't be, Martha!" Carolyn laughed.
"I'm going to get the children up. They may as well eat when this is hot, too, and it'll be ready in a few minutes. Don't let it burn, please!" and Martha hurried out of the kitchen.
"My love, now that we are alone for a moment, I must thank you once again." The Captain stood close to Carolyn.
She looked up at him.
"No need, really. I did it for love."
"Love. Hmm. So you would have done the same for anyone you loved?"
"Of course."
"Even someone, say, like Blair?" Daniel teased her.
Tossing her head, pretending indignation, Carolyn said, "I didn't love Blair. If I had, I would have found myself left at the altar while he pursued someone who was refusing him. Wouldn't you have expected as much of Vanessa?"
"Ah – Vanessa…"Mine was a shallow boy's love…When faced with the choice of Vanessa or the sea, for she would not accept my profession…I chose the sea. "After loving Robert as you did, are you willing to risk with someone who can offer you no future?"
"No future?" Carolyn smiled lovingly at him. "I feel as if I had no future until you came into my life. Daniel, you're all I want now. Now and forever."
He closed his eyes for a moment, wondering if she had any idea how she had just touched him. She had offered a lifeline to someone who was drowning – Hope to a being who had none – Love to one who had scoffed at it for so many years… And now clutched it wonderingly to himself. He had been sick even unto death – And love, true love, had been his salvation.
The End