Page 39 of The Moonstone Major
Chloe and the girls laughed heartily.
“And mine,” Ella said, now bouncing on her bench. “I’m a duckling, too.”
“Indeed,” Fionn said, his manner austere. “Captain Pegleg Duckling, scourge of the Barbary Coast.”
He had the girls in gales of laughter as he playfully growled and put on a pirate’s voice, punctuating his phrases witharghandmatey.
“What shall Chloe be called?” Ella asked, still bouncing on the bench.
“That’s an easy one,” he said, turning to Chloe and giving her a wink. “She’s the Moonstone Marauder, fierce queen of all oceans, lakes, and puddles.”
The girls were squealing with glee again.
“And you, Major Brennan?” Ella asked with a giggle. “What is your pirate name to be?”
“Must I be other than Major Brennan? After all, someone has to keep you scurvy pirates in line.”
“No, no,” Imogen insisted. “You have to be a pirate, too. Give yourself a name. Everyone must have a name.”
Chloe saw the flicker of pain in his eyes.
Everyone must have a name.
Except he didn’t have one.
He was a foundling left on an orphanage doorstep with no idea of his true identity. He’d gone from one of the horrid orphanages straight to the workhouses then escaped onto the streets before he’d reached the age of eight.
All he knew of himself was that no one wanted him.
Chloe could not help aching for him, so she quietly took his hand. He entwined his fingers in hers and gave her hand a light squeeze before easing it out of her light grasp.
This big, brawny soldier, who oozed confidence and charm, had a painful hole in his heart that would never heal until he discovered who he was. Chloe wanted to tell him that the past did not matter, for how was he ever to discover his identity all these years later?
To her, none of his past mattered. He was brilliant and valiant and had worked his way up from nothing to become the man he was meant to be. It took such inner strength to overcome the disadvantages he had faced all his life.
Not only overcome those disadvantages, but become a good and honorable person instead of turning bitter and resentful.
She did not care where he came from, only who he was now. “I think he must be Captain Beauregard Handsome, pirate prince of Valhalla.”
He laughed heartily and at the same time groaned. “No, absolutely not.”
“Yes! Yes!” the girls cried.
“Pirates can be handsome,” Ella insisted.
“And you are ever so nice looking,” Imogen said with her innocent truth, bobbing her head in agreement.
He turned to Chloe with a helpless look.
She grinned and bobbed her head too. “Ever so nice looking.”
Mr. Hawke chuckled. “Mrs. Hawke will have a good laugh when I tell her. Enjoy the moment, for in a few years you’ll start losing your hair, growing a pot belly, and sprouting a forest of hair out of your ears and nose. In other words, you’ll look like me!”
They reached the site of the cave within the hour, and Mr. Hawke drew up the wagon in a flower-dotted meadow that sloped slightly down to the sea. There was not much of a sand beach at this spot, just fields of grass and a copse of trees with silvery leaves not far from the edge of the water where seedlings had somehow taken root.
They spread their blanket in the shade of those white bark trees whose silver leaves shimmered and sounded like fairy laughter whenever the wind tinkled through them. Just beyond, at the bottom of the gentle slope, was where the land met the deep blue sea. A column of rocks jutted out into the water, and among those rocks was the entrance to the cave.
The tide was ebbing, so they would be able to walk through the cave without getting their feet wet, but they dared not tarry too long with their picnic luncheon or have to deal with the tide coming back in.
