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Authors: Sharon Cullen
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his enemy. Ever since learning her name, he’d turned a blind eye to the truth. No more. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore. But the truth was almost too painful to bear.
Juliana Morgan MacKenzie had found her Zach.
Chapter Six
Juliana.
Of course he’d known from the moment he undressed her that she was a time-traveler. Just like himself. That’s why he tied her clothes to a cannonball and threw them in the ocean. But Juliana? The girl he’d loved so much it’d become a physical ache? The girl he’d left behind in the twenty-first century because he’d been so stupid as to fall through the mirror when his mother told him not to go through it.
The girl who wasn’t a girl anymore but a woman before him. Here. In the eighteenth century.
Morgan squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them she was still there, sleeping the sleep of the exhausted.
How? How did she get here?
The answer was simple—the same way he’d arrived here. The other answers were more difficult.
What was he going to do with her?
Morgan hadn’t felt panic in a long time, but it hit him now like a fist to the gut, stealing his air, making him weak. He ran a hand down his face having no idea what to do.
I love you, Juliana. You know that, don’t you?
Those had been the last words he, as Zach, had spoken to her. The night before he traveled to a different century. She’d stood in the driveway of his parents’ home, looking up at him with those green eyes that always managed to weaken his knees and smiled. As always, her smile melted his heart. Not that a seventeen-year-old boy would admit to his heart melting.
I love you too, Zach.
Who would have known, who would have guessed, that was the end? Certainly not Zach.
Morgan wanted to shake her awake, to tell her who he was and ask her all the questions that had been plaguing him for fifteen years. Instead, he turned on his heel to walk out. Fresh air. He needed fresh air so he could think logically. Realistically. Don’t say anything rash. Think before you speak.
“Don’t go.”
He stopped but didn’t turn back.
“Stay with me,” she said.
“I—” He cleared his throat and reluctantly turned around. “I have things to do. Up top. Sailing. Things.” Did she know? Did she know he was Zach? He studied her expression, the eyes that were always a mirror to her soul, looking for some sign of recognition. Hoping?
Yeah, maybe even hoping. But there was nothing. Just the same expression he’d seen before—wariness and a knowledge that he was her protector no matter what he’d done to her.
Ah, God. He’d had Juliana flogged. How was he ever going to live with himself?
“Can I come with you?”
He was shaking his head before she even finished her question. “Not a good idea.” He needed to be away from her, to think. To figure out what to do, where to go from here. Tell her he was Zach? Should he?
“Please,” she whispered.
As it had that fateful night fifteen years ago, Morgan’s heart melted for this woman. How in the hell did he not recogniz her from the beginning? Now he saw the younger Juliana in the older version. The eyes gave her away—that green that would always remind him of her.
She was climbing out of his bed, pulling her shirt down and straightening the breeches still tied with the damn rope.
“Juliana—”
“I can’t…” Her hands fell to her sides. Her eyes were sad. Her shoulders drooped. She was at the end of her reserves, pulling on the last of her energy. “I don’t like the dark, Morgan. I don’t want to be alone.”
Of course. How could he have forgotten her fear of dark places? And he’d had her thrown in the hold for hours. What had that done to her?
“Come on.” He headed toward the door. What kind of fool was he to take her with him?
To give her credit, she remained quiet while he checked the sails and consulted with Thomas and John, the night watchman. John who kept shooting glances at Juliana as she stood on deck and
Juliana Morgan MacKenzie had found her Zach.
Chapter Six
Juliana.
Of course he’d known from the moment he undressed her that she was a time-traveler. Just like himself. That’s why he tied her clothes to a cannonball and threw them in the ocean. But Juliana? The girl he’d loved so much it’d become a physical ache? The girl he’d left behind in the twenty-first century because he’d been so stupid as to fall through the mirror when his mother told him not to go through it.
The girl who wasn’t a girl anymore but a woman before him. Here. In the eighteenth century.
Morgan squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them she was still there, sleeping the sleep of the exhausted.
How? How did she get here?
The answer was simple—the same way he’d arrived here. The other answers were more difficult.
What was he going to do with her?
Morgan hadn’t felt panic in a long time, but it hit him now like a fist to the gut, stealing his air, making him weak. He ran a hand down his face having no idea what to do.
I love you, Juliana. You know that, don’t you?
Those had been the last words he, as Zach, had spoken to her. The night before he traveled to a different century. She’d stood in the driveway of his parents’ home, looking up at him with those green eyes that always managed to weaken his knees and smiled. As always, her smile melted his heart. Not that a seventeen-year-old boy would admit to his heart melting.
I love you too, Zach.
Who would have known, who would have guessed, that was the end? Certainly not Zach.
Morgan wanted to shake her awake, to tell her who he was and ask her all the questions that had been plaguing him for fifteen years. Instead, he turned on his heel to walk out. Fresh air. He needed fresh air so he could think logically. Realistically. Don’t say anything rash. Think before you speak.
“Don’t go.”
He stopped but didn’t turn back.
“Stay with me,” she said.
“I—” He cleared his throat and reluctantly turned around. “I have things to do. Up top. Sailing. Things.” Did she know? Did she know he was Zach? He studied her expression, the eyes that were always a mirror to her soul, looking for some sign of recognition. Hoping?
Yeah, maybe even hoping. But there was nothing. Just the same expression he’d seen before—wariness and a knowledge that he was her protector no matter what he’d done to her.
Ah, God. He’d had Juliana flogged. How was he ever going to live with himself?
“Can I come with you?”
He was shaking his head before she even finished her question. “Not a good idea.” He needed to be away from her, to think. To figure out what to do, where to go from here. Tell her he was Zach? Should he?
“Please,” she whispered.
As it had that fateful night fifteen years ago, Morgan’s heart melted for this woman. How in the hell did he not recogniz her from the beginning? Now he saw the younger Juliana in the older version. The eyes gave her away—that green that would always remind him of her.
She was climbing out of his bed, pulling her shirt down and straightening the breeches still tied with the damn rope.
“Juliana—”
“I can’t…” Her hands fell to her sides. Her eyes were sad. Her shoulders drooped. She was at the end of her reserves, pulling on the last of her energy. “I don’t like the dark, Morgan. I don’t want to be alone.”
Of course. How could he have forgotten her fear of dark places? And he’d had her thrown in the hold for hours. What had that done to her?
“Come on.” He headed toward the door. What kind of fool was he to take her with him?
To give her credit, she remained quiet while he checked the sails and consulted with Thomas and John, the night watchman. John who kept shooting glances at Juliana as she stood on deck and
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