A passionate kiss was the last thing Elizabeth Hamilton expected to share with Magnolia Cove's fire chief--minutes after meeting him! And that was before she suspected the mysterious man was really none other than Sullivan Fouquet, legendary eighteenth-century pirate, back from the dead and bent on vengeance.
Sully had returned to his old haunts with one goal--to witness the completion of a centuries-old voodoo curse upon his sworn enemy. But then Elizabeth asked for his help in a serious family matter.
Could Sully give up his chance for revenge...and instead take his chance at the love of a lifetime?
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January 31, 2007
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Excerpt from The Forbidden Enchantment by Nina Bruhns
The Forbidden Enchantment
by Nina Bruhns
Magnolia Cove, Frenchman's Island, South Carolina June, present day
He should have stayed dead.
That would have been preferable to this living hell. Captain Sullivan Fouquet plastered a brittle smile on his face and told himself he must not, under any circumstances, show his pain, or his fear.
Did he say fear? Non. More like apprehension. Unease. Nervousness.
Captain Sullivan Fouquet feared nothing in this world. At least not until.
Damnation. Tyree would be able to tell him what to do, how to act. What to be wary of in this strange new time and place and what should be ignored.
Blast the blighter for leaving on his honeymoon now, when Sully needed him most.
"You okay, Chief?"
"Aye," Sully said, gingerly catching the traveling case the man whose name was Jeremy Swift handed down from the huge red conveyance Sully had just descended from himself. "Yes," he corrected himself, and cautiously tested the strength of his weakened knees. That had been quite a ride.
Swift passed him down his walking stick and Sully leaned on it gratefully. No need for his men to know careening down the road in that cursed contraption he'd had his heart in his throat.
"Need help with your bag?" Jeremy asked.
"Non, I'm fine." Sully could deal with the pain. It was the strangeness and blind uncertainty he hated.
As proof of his fitness, he turned toward the fancy three-story boardinghouse that was painted the most peculiar green and garnished with white, curlicued latticework. He'd never seen anything quite like it in his life.
His old life. "This is where you live now, you remember?" Jeremy Swift asked with a slight frown.
"It's coming back to me."
Of course, he'd never seen pretty much anything he'd encountered in this extraordinary world since waking from his near-endless slumber. In the hospital Tyree had counseled feigning amnesia to explain his utter lack of recognition of anything around him. As well as why he had none of the memories of the person whose bodyhe now inhabited--Andre Sullivan, a man whose looks were uncannily similar to those of his old self.
"Okay, we'll leave you to it," Jeremy Swift said. "See you tomorrow at the station, Chief."
"Aye," he said, but the word was drowned by the rumbling noise of the giant red fire truck pulling away from the curb. On the side of the truck was emblazoned Old Fort Mystic Fire Department, as were the pockets of the neat blue uniforms of the six smiling men packed inside--his men--all waving cheerfully to him as the truck rolled away down the street. A piercingly loud horn blasted twice from the roof of the vehicle, making him cringe, and then it disappeared around the corner.
Leaving him on his own. For the first time in three months. For the first time ever since being thrust into this diabolical adventure.
But a coward was something he'd never been, so taking a deep, cleansing breath Sully made himself reach for the gate in the white picket fence surrounding the house's front garden. A neat green painted sign was attached to it. Pirate's Rest Inn.
He gave an ironic smirk.
If they only knew. "Welcome home, Captain Fouquet," he mimicked in a high voice to the sign. "It's been a long time.
"Aye, two hundred years," he answered himself. "But it's not Fouquet anymore. I'm Chief Sullivan now. Andre Sullivan."
He exhaled. Non. No one would be calling him Fouquet, even in error. Sullivan Fouquet had been dead for two hundred years--as they'd continually pointedout in the hospital--until Tyree had convinced him to stop insisting he really was the infamous Cajun pirate captain. Tyree should know--he'd spent two centuries hiding his real identity, even being forced of late to change his name to James Tyler. He said people would start thinking Sully's mind had been mangled along with his body in the fiery accident that had nearly claimed his life.