Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

A iden effortlessly lifted the bike out of the back of the truck, carrying it toward the shop as if it weighed nothing. Mary blinked in surprise, impressed by his strength but trying not to show it.

"Thanks, Alex," she called, waving goodbye as Lily's latest crush pulled away, the day already turning warm.

"You coming?" She looked over her shoulder at Aiden, who had stopped to watch the truck as it turned the corner, a calculating look on his face.

"How fast do these metal carriages go?" he asked, frowning at the retreating vehicle.

"Some go really fast. Remind me to show you Formula 1 racing on TV."

The little bell above the bright blue door chimed as they entered the shop, the screen door slamming behind her, as Mary watched as Aiden stopped, turning in a slow circle, a look of wonder on his face. It was almost as if he'd never seen not only cars and bikes, but restaurants, gas stations, and the like. Nope. Not even going there. She scolded herself.

For a moment, she tried to see the shop through his eyes. It was cozy with its floor-to-ceiling shelves with rolling ladders lining the walls and the freestanding bookcases that created a maze-like interior for readers to wander as they searched for the perfect read. The scent of old paper and leather filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of pumpkin spice from the candle and cinnamon from the tea she'd brewed early that morning.

"Bloody hell," he breathed, reaching out to caress the spine of a nearby book. "I've never seen so many tomes in one place. Not even in the governor's library in Nassau."

Wait. What? Mary blinked at him, curiosity winning out. "You've been to the governor's library in Nassau?"

A smirk crossed his face. "Aye, though not by invitation, if ye catch my meaning."

Before she could ask another question, a soft melody filled the air. Aiden whirled around, a knife in one hand that he must have produced from somewhere on his person.

"What sorcery is this?" he demanded, eyes darting around the room.

The laugh escaped before she could stop it.

"It's not sorcery, it's music. From the speakers." She pointed to the small black boxes mounted in the corners of the shop.

Aiden approached one of the speakers cautiously, peering up at it as if expecting a tiny orchestra to emerge. "How can music come from such a small box? Where are the musicians?"

Either he'd lost his memory, was staying in character, or … nope, not going there. A sigh escaped as she realized just how much explaining she might have to do if he truly believed he was from the 18th century.

"It's recorded music. We capture sounds and play them back whenever we want. It's... well, it's complicated."

A mix of curiosity and disbelief filled his face. "'Tis a wonder, indeed."

While he explored the store, she leaned against the counter, watching him, warmth spreading through her as he exclaimed over her shop, bringing a smile to her face.

"So," she said, straightening the bookmarks on the counter, "tell me more about this Siren of yours. And how you ended up on the beach."

He put the knife away as his face clouded over, his hand absently touching the hilt of his cutlass.

"The Siren was the finest ship to sail the Caribbean. Fast as the wind and twice as deadly. We were... we were caught in a storm. Unlike any I've ever seen."

He paused, his gaze distant.

"I thought for sure Davy Jones would claim me that night. Instead, I woke up on your shores, far from home. My men taken by the sea."

The guy truly believed what he was saying. That much was clear. A breeze blew in through the screen door, making her shiver. But how was it possible?

Before she could press him further, her phone rang, startling them both. He went into a crouch, eyes narrowed, knives in both hands as she pulled the phone out of the pocket of her jeans, trying to hold the laughter in as she hit the button to take the call.

"Hello?" she answered, keeping a wary eye on her guest.

"What a glorious day," her mother's cheerful voice filled her ear. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but I wanted to let you know that one of the performers for the jamboree has gone missing. A Scottish fellow, I believe. He was supposed to have arrived yesterday and train up some of the new fellas for the next week or so. Have you seen anyone new around town looking rather lost?"

Now it all made sense. "Um, actually, Mom, I think I might have found him. He's here at the store now. But?—"

"Oh, wonderful!" Her mom exclaimed. "We were so worried. Make sure he knows to come to the museum. We can't have our new pirates looking less than professional."

Not a time traveler … not that she'd really believed him. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she ended the call and looked him over again.

"That was my mother. She thinks you're the missing performer for the jamboree. Are you sure you're not here for the festival?"

Aiden's brow furrowed. "I've told ye, lass. I'm no traveling performer. I'm Captain of the Siren, and I need to find a way back to my own time."

A headache started at her left temple and throbbed across her forehead as she let out a long sigh. "Right. Your own time. 1717, was it?"

"Aye," Aiden replied, his tone serious. "I ken ye dinna believe me, but I speak the truth."

This time, she looked him over, from the tip of his boots to the ends of his hair, taking in his weathered appearance, the authenticity of his clothing, and the conviction in his voice.

"Okay," she said slowly. "Let's say, for argument's sake, that you really are from 1717. Tell me something about that time. Something that no one in the future would know."

The aggravated look on his face made her smile.

"Very well. Ye and that man in the truck mentioned Blackbeard earlier. Edward Teach, as he was known. Did ye know he was deathly afraid of the kraken?"

"The kraken? The giant sea monster?" Talk about fairy tales.

Aiden nodded. "Aye. He'd never admit it to his crew, of course, but he hated being on the water at night. Said that's when the beast hunted. And for all his fearsome reputation, Teach couldn't swim a stroke."

Skepticism mixed with hope washed over her. She'd never heard these details about Blackbeard before, and she'd grown up surrounded by pirate lore.

"There's more," he continued, warming to his subject. "Teach was an educated man, contrary to what many believed. He used his intellect and reputation to keep his crew in line more often than his cutlass."

Aiden's expression darkened. "He was a right bastard if ever there was one. We sailed together once, before he got too greedy for my taste."

"Okay," she said slowly. "Tell me something about his ship? The Queen Anne's Revenge?"

A snort escaped as he leaned against the bookcase, arms crossed. "That old tub? He only just acquired her when I left Nassau. Renamed her from the Concord, he did. Boasted she'd be the terror of the seas."

As he talked about Blackbeard, Mary decided while she might not believe him, she'd let him stay, because maybe he might be able to tell her about the map and coin she'd found.

A small smile tugged at her lips. "Okay, I didn't know all that." She sniffed the air, making him arch a brow.

"Let's get you some dry clothes. You smell like you've been marinating in seawater, gunpowder, and rum."

Aiden grinned, a roguish twinkle in his eye. "Aye, lass. That be the scent of a true pirate."

This was information that wasn't in the usual tourist pamphlets or casual history books. Either this guy had done some serious research for his role, or...

No. She shook her head, banishing the thought. There had to be a logical explanation.

As she turned to head upstairs to the apartment, he caught her arm. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, and she found herself staring into those impossibly blue eyes once again.

"Thank ye, lass," he said softly. "I know not why fate has brought me to this strange time and place, but I'm grateful for your kindness."

Mary swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how close they were standing. She could smell the salt on his skin, mixed with a spicy, masculine scent that made her head spin.

"Don't mention it," she managed to say, her voice embarrassingly high-pitched. "It's what any decent person would do."

Aiden stood alone in the store of books while the lass with the fetching backside went to fetch him dry clothes. Surrounded by more books than he'd ever seen in his life, he trailed his fingers over the spines, marveling at the bright colors and designs. Some were leather-bound, reminding him of the tomes he'd seen in the governor's library. Others were covered with a marvelous shiny paper.

As he explored, his thoughts drifted to Mary. Despite her initial gruffness, there was an undeniable kindness in her eyes. She'd taken him in, a stranger with an unbelievable tale, and offered him sanctuary.

Her beauty struck him anew. The way her braided red hair caught the light, hair some would say marked her as a siren, but he'd always had a fondness for hair the color of the sunset. Green eyes the color of the clearest emeralds sparkled with intelligence and curiosity. Yet she seemed unaware of her own allure, of the sway of her hips and long legs encased in the odd breeches as she carried herself with the grace of a highborn lady. Normally a lass as fine as she wasn't his type. He preferred a quick tumble and no attachments... but there was something about her…

He plucked a book from the shelf, careful not to damage it. The cover depicted a ship, not unlike his beloved Siren, caught in a storm, waves crashing over it. The title read "The Perfect Storm: A True Story of Men Against the Sea."

"A true story," he murmured, flipping through the pages. The text was crisp and clear, unlike any printing he'd ever seen. And the images... they were so lifelike, he half expected the waves to leap off the page.

As he replaced the book, his eye caught on another volume. This one bore the title "Blackbeard: The Life and Legacy of History's Most Famous Pirate." With trembling hands, he pulled it from the shelf.

There, staring back at him from the cover, was a face he knew all too well. The artist had captured Edward Teach's fierce eyes and wild beard perfectly. But it was the text below that made Aiden's blood run cold.

Born 1680 - Died November 22, 1718.

"1718," Aiden whispered, mind reeling. "That's what the lass said. Only a year from now. It canna be."

But as he flipped through the pages, the evidence was undeniable. Detailed accounts of battles he'd only just heard rumors of, maps of conquests yet to come, and worst of all, the final defeat and death.

The book slipped from his fingers, landing with a thud on the hardwood floor. Aiden stumbled back, his legs giving way beneath him as he collapsed into a nearby chair.

It was true. All of it.

Somehow, impossibly, he had traveled through time. The strange sights, the horseless carriages, the vast number of books all made a terrible kind of sense now. And Mary, with her odd speech and even more peculiar attire, was part of this bewildering new world. A world he would have to navigate with her help, whether she believed his story or not.

"I'm in the future," he said aloud, testing the words on his tongue.

Then a grin spread across his face, like the tide coming in to the harbor. If he could gain knowledge of what was to come, the battles, treasures that would be found, then when he returned to his own time, he could use the knowledge to make himself the richest man in all of Nassau … of all the seas.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs made him turn as she appeared, arms laden with what he assumed were clothes.

"Here," she said, thrusting the pile at him. "You can change in the bathroom for customers. It's through that door. There's a shower and clean towels as well."

Aiden fingered the strange fabrics. "Whose garments are these?" He arched a brow. "Mayhap an old lover?"

"No. I wouldn't give you clothes from an old boyfriend. That would be... Never mind. They're new," she said, making a face.

"I was going to donate them, along with some other supplies. Lucky for you, I haven't gotten around to it yet."

Aiden stepped into the bathroom, marveling at the gleaming fixtures. The concept of indoor plumbing astounded him. He flushed the toilet, where she'd told him to take a piss, watching in amazement as the water swirled and disappeared. The shower was another marvel with its endless hot water at the turn of a knob. He reveled in the luxury, letting the steaming water soothe his aching body.

The soap was unlike anything he'd ever had, even in Paris. Smooth, soft, and scented with citrus. The shampoo for his hair smelled of rosemary and mint, a far cry from the harsh lye soap he was accustomed to. As he lathered up, he couldn't help but think how the ladies of his time would swoon over such fragrances.

After drying off, he dubiously eyed the pink shaving blade. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the can of shaving cream. With a tentative squeeze, foam exploded everywhere, covering the sink, mirror, and floor. His mouth dropped open in shock.

Recovering, he swiped his fingers through a mound on the sink and covered his face. The cream was smooth and smelled pleasantly of a rainy day at sea.

Carefully, he shaved, marveling at the ease compared to his old straight razor. Looking in the mirror afterward, he was pleased with his appearance. Clean-shaven and refreshed, ready to face this new world.

Turning his attention to the pile of clothes Mary had given him, Aiden fingered the strange fabrics. As he dressed, he found the shirt particularly confining. Stepping out of the bathroom, he tugged at the tight fit across his chest and arms, then looked down at the stretchy breeches that came to mid-calf.

"These garments are most strange," he said, brow furrowed. "How does one breathe in such constricting attire?"

He heard the lass stifle a laugh, the sound reaching down to his belly as she finished lining up books on a table with a card that said, It had a blue cover.

The corner of her mouth tilted up, and he narrowed his eyes, watching her, trying not to laugh at him.

"Something amuses ye, poppet?"

She waved a hand up and down. "It's just. Well, the T-shirt and sweats look painted on. I could advertise a romance cover model visiting the store and probably make a fortune."

Then she looked at a clock on the wall. "We'll get you a larger size later. At least you're dry now," she said. "Look, I need to re-open the shop. Why don't you sit over there and read a book while I make us some coffee?"

When she went to the back of the shop, he followed, watching curiously as she busied herself with an odd contraption he'd never seen the likes of before.

His gaze shifted to her hands, and he abruptly stopped. "What in the devil's name happened to your fingers?" he gasped, eyes widening as he reached for her hand. "They're a bronze color."

Mary blinked, taken aback, then realized what he meant. "You mean my nails?" She held up her hand with a grin. "It's just nail polish. Women paint their nails for fun."

Aiden stared at her dramatically, aghast. "Women paint their nails?" He shook his head, bewildered.

"You're hovering." She turned to him, a look of exasperation on her lovely, heart-shaped face. "Go. Sit. I'll bring the coffee.""As ye say, lass," he leaned over, tucked a loose strand of hair that had come free from her braid behind her ear then moved through the shop as she bade him, eyes darting from shelf to shelf, taking in the overwhelming number of books. His hand twitched towards his hip, reaching for the familiar weight of his pistol, the touch comforting him.

When the fetching lass returned with two steaming mugs, Aiden eyed the dark liquid suspiciously. He lifted the cup to his nose, inhaling deeply. The rich, earthy aroma was unlike anything he'd encountered before.

"What manner of brew is this?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

Mary chuckled. "It's coffee. I thought for sure you'd take it black."

Aiden took a tentative sip and grimaced. "By the saints, 'tis bitter!"

"Here, try adding some sugar and milk," Mary suggested, pushing a silver tray holding a bowl and pitcher towards him.

A splash of milk and then he spooned a generous amount of sugar into his mug, stirring cautiously before taking another sip. His eyes widened in surprise. "Aye, that's more to my liking."

"I totally agree with you," she said. "I love the smell of coffee, but the taste, well let's just say, I like a bit of coffee with my sugar and milk."

A black blur suddenly leapt from the shelves, making her shriek, dropping the mug which he reached out and caught, spilling nary a drop.

"How did you do that? Talk about fast reflexes."

"I wouldna want ye to burn yourself, lass."

Inky landed gracefully on the back of the sofa as Aiden patted the cat.

"There ye are, ye wee beast," he said, scratching the cat behind the ears. "I was wondering where ye'd gotten off to."

She looked from him to the cat. "I guess he can stay in the shop, but we need to buy some cat food for him."

"Cat food?" He blinked at her. "He catches his own food." The cat sprawled on the sofa, cracking one eye open, his purrs filling the room.

The lass looked unconvinced, but shrugged. "If you say so. So tell me more about this ship of yours."

"Aye, she was a beauty," he said, voice filled with pride. "Forty guns, a crew of one hundred and fifty men, and the fastest ship in the Caribbean. We could outrun any Royal Navy vessel foolish enough to give chase."

He would miss her and his crew. Had another privateer found the wreckage? Told all back in Nassau that Aiden and his crew perished? That the Siren was now at the bottom of the sea?

As he recounted the tale of the storm that had brought him to this strange world, the weight of loss settled upon his shoulders. He watched her face, searching for any sign that she believed him.

"That's quite a tale," she said finally. "But you have to admit, it's a bit hard to swallow. I mean, time travel? It's just not possible. Wouldn't we have heard about it by now if it was?"

Frustration flared. "Ye think I dinna know how mad it sounds?" he said, voice rising.

"I've seen things today that I canna explain. Horseless carriages, people flying on wheels, music coming from the very air around me. If this isn't witchcraft, then what is it?"

He saw the doubt in her eyes, and for a moment, felt utterly alone in this bewildering new world.