Seaborne (6 page)
Authors: Katherine Irons
Tags: #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fantasy, #Chick-Lit, #Mythology
“I know where you’re coming from. As I said, they can be very alluring.” Orion’s sea-green eyes clouded, as though he were remembering another time and another place. “And for the record, Pania thought I was a shark when she hit me.”
“And why was that?” Alex taunted. “Could it be because you had cast an illusion over her, so that she saw a hammerhead?”
“It was a white, not a hammerhead. And it was a good spell. Three fishermen on the beach thought I was a shark, as well.”
Morgan got to his feet. “I suppose I should be happy that I’m not the only sinner in the family, but I’d hoped to get your advice on what to do about my problem. And she’s not a great-grandmother.”
“You’re mad for her?” Orion asked seriously.
Morgan nodded. “It seems that way.”
“Does she have a name, this human?” Alex asked, no longer joking.
“Claire.”
“And is she beautiful?” Alex nodded. “I think she is, but not in the usual way. There’s something very different about her, isn’t there?”
“Yes,” Morgan admitted. “There is.” He didn’t want to share more, even with these two brothers he loved. He didn’t understand what he felt for Claire, and he wasn’t ready to try to explain it. “What I wanted to ask was if this had ever happened to you, and what you did about it.”
“Absolutely,” Orion replied. “And my advice is to take what’s offered, enjoy it, and move on. They aren’t like us. They’re simple beings, but they can get under your skin if you don’t satisfy your itch.”
“Father will take this seriously,” Alex said. “Before you appear before the council, you should talk to the queen,” Alex suggested. “Give her time to consult with Poseidon before your crime is discussed in the open court. Let him vent his anger privately.”
Morgan’s gut clenched. “They know about Claire, then?”
“Sweet Hades, no,” Orion said. “Not a whisper. I have it that the charges are just those concerning the fishermen and the human boy. If they knew about your human female, my friend would know.”
Alex nodded. “Pillow talk. Lady Ambrosia is very friendly with our brother, almost as fond of his sexual aerobics as she is gossip, and she shares every shred of it with him.”
Morgan sank back onto the bench, his relief overwhelming. Not that he could expect to walk free on the human contact charge. But if Caddoc and his mother were aware of Claire, her life might be in danger. Or they might use her to destroy him. If he got out of his current mess,
when
he got out of it, the best thing he could do for Claire would be to forget he’d ever seen her. The farther he stayed from her beach, the better for them both.
when
he got out of it, the best thing he could do for Claire would be to forget he’d ever seen her. The farther he stayed from her beach, the better for them both.
“I say go directly to the king,” Orion advised. “He’ll be furious, and he’ll roar like a bull walrus, but he’ll think you weak if you ask for Mother’s help.”
“The last time we were alone together, he was so mad at me that he exiled me to the southern polar regions,” Morgan said. “I was counting penguins and chipping ice off my scales for three years.” He grimaced. No, Poseidon would not be pleased.
His relations with his father had never been the best. The king had been a great general and expected his heir to be a fire-breathing warrior, not a poet who preferred the quiet battle of preserving the whales, stopping oil spills, and rescuing lobsters, Morgan thought ruefully. The twins should have been born first; they were more like Father.
“You know how Poseidon feels about humans,” Alex cautioned. “The sooner they die of thirst or starve to death, the better. He’d as soon be rid of them before they destroy every drop of saltwater on the planet.”
Morgan didn’t remind them that his father’s hate for those who walked the earth went much deeper—that his first wife, their mother, had died at the hands of humans. Morgan didn’t need to repeat what they’d had pounded into their minds as children. No, his rescue of a human boy would not go down well with Poseidon, high king of Atlantis. Not well at all.
In a penthouse overlooking Central Park, Richard Bishop stood with a drink in his hand and stared down at the horse-drawn carriage below. The driver was garbed in eighteenth-century costume—or at least a tourist-friendly version of the attire, including white wig and tricorn. The horse pulling the gold-and-black conveyance was a bright sorrel. The color reminded him of a five-year-old hunter he’d purchased in Kentucky for Claire when she was eleven.
“Cloud’s Scarlet Tanager” had been the mare’s name. Claire had adored her, and she’d taken a slew of trophies and blue ribbons in dressage. He’d had the animal flown from one coast to the other so that Claire could enter the maximum number of shows possible when she was home from boarding school.
Richard drained the drink and placed the empty glass on a tray. Claire had been born with the natural talent of an athlete and the drive to excel. He had expected her to bring home the gold in the Olympics, but that dream had died with all his others for her.
Now, he just wanted to keep her alive.
She was all he had, and he loved her with every fiber of his being. Nothing else mattered but Claire. He had to reach her, had to give her a reason to live before she slipped out of his hands forever.
Deciding that something had to be done, he picked up his cell and pressed Justin’s office number. After four rings, a receptionist picked up.
“I’m sorry, sir, but Dr. Warren is with a patient. What is your call in regards to? I’ll be happy to take a message,” the twit said after he’d requested to speak to Justin. Richard had seen her—all boobs and no brain. He doubted if she could even remember the date, let alone how to transfer a call.
“This is Richard Bishop of the law firm of Roberts, Simon, and Bishop. And this is an emergency. Put me through to Justin immediately, or I give you my word you’ll be hunting for a new position tomorrow,” Richard said in his sternest courtroom voice. “Now, Ms. O’Brian.”
“Please hold.”
Elevator music blared in his ear. Richard waited: thirty seconds, a minute, two, before another click sounded.
“Hello, Richard, this is Justin. Has something happened to Claire?”
Richard heard a woman in the background before Justin told her to shut up. Richard switched his phone to loud speaker and poured more whiskey over his melting ice cubes. He heard the deeper murmur of a male, not Justin, but a man with an Eastern European accent. Then Justin’s smooth professional voice filled the room again.
“Is Claire all right?”
“No, I don’t think she is,” Richard answered. “That’s why I called. Her depression seems to have taken a downward turn. I’m very concerned.”
“Did you tell her that I’d be happy to see her?”
“I did. She refused.”
Richard had never been particularly fond of his son-in-law when he and Claire were married, but Justin had a fine reputation and excellent credentials. He knew about Justin’s straying, of course, but a lot of men did that. Hell, he’d done that many times before he and Elaine had finally called it quits. It was something Justin and Claire should have been able to work out with counseling. He’d always thought Claire had been hasty to seek a divorce.
“She refused?”
“Yes,” Richard said. “And frankly, Justin, I don’t know what to do next.”
“She may not be in a position to make decisions, considering her condition. Would you like to meet for dinner? Discuss this at length?”
“I’d like that. I’m afraid …” Richard hesitated and then continued in a rush. “I’m afraid she may be suicidal.”
CHAPTER 6
J
ustin waved away the woman and turned his back to her and Sergei. Justin’s erection continued to deflate as he exchanged a few more words with Claire’s father and promised to call back with a time and place to meet to discuss her condition. Once he’d gotten Richard off the phone, he buzzed the front desk and told Crystal in no uncertain terms that he was not to be disturbed again before the next patient was due. On second thought, he told her that he would be leaving the office, due to an emergency. She should cancel his last two appointments and leave early.
ustin waved away the woman and turned his back to her and Sergei. Justin’s erection continued to deflate as he exchanged a few more words with Claire’s father and promised to call back with a time and place to meet to discuss her condition. Once he’d gotten Richard off the phone, he buzzed the front desk and told Crystal in no uncertain terms that he was not to be disturbed again before the next patient was due. On second thought, he told her that he would be leaving the office, due to an emergency. She should cancel his last two appointments and leave early.
“I’ll be paid for the whole day, won’t I, Doctor?”
“Absolutely. Now hustle Mr. Johns and Miss Farsette out of the waiting room and go. Clear the waiting room before I find something more for you to do.” He ended the call and turned back to the waiting couple. “Where were we?” he said.
Obediently, the brunette dropped to her knees. Sergei resumed the position and soon was pumping away with his oversized equipment. Justin dimmed the lights, turned up the music, and returned to the couch. He liked to get in the mood by watching before they turned their attention to him.
This was a different partner than the Romanian usually worked with. Bunny? Honey? Whatever she called herself, Justin approved of her musky perfume and pouty red lips. He hoped she was as creative with that mouth as Sergei had promised.
The bitch was slightly sleazy and young, but not too young, the way he liked them. He’d threatened the agent after she’d sent him an underage girl a few months ago, and he’d had to refuse her services. The agent had provided a replacement, a Russian transsexual, but his evening had been ruined by the delay. Justin liked to gamble, but not on something so dangerous as having sex with a minor. There were too many luscious partners over eighteen to risk his career and position.
Justin moistened his lips with his tongue. Yes, this Bunny was almost perfect, dumb and innocent looking—but not too innocent by the way she was taking all of Sergei’s impressive length or her quick little grunts of pleasure.
Justin applied spearmint balm to his lips and shaft and removed two capsules from the false bottom of a sculpture of the god Pan despoiling a naiad. The ten-inch statue was a museum copy that he’d fallen in love with and had altered. It had been expensive, but he thought Pan appeared quite sophisticated displayed on the dark walnut table beside the red leather couch.
Justin was anxious to talk to Richard about Claire, but not so anxious that he would ruin a perfectly enjoyable afternoon. Claire could wait. Few worthwhile things in life were gained by heedless haste. He lay back against the headrest and washed the capsules down with a swallow of energy water. He was certain that he would need all of his energy before he was finished with his latest playthings.
It was late afternoon, and a chill breeze was whipping off the water, sending grains of sand and the occasional gull feather swirling across Seaborne’s beach pavilion when the housekeeper appeared at Claire’s side. “You’ve been down here all day.” Mrs. Godwin scowled and clutched her tweed sweater around her. “The sun has gone in.”
“It’s June,” Claire reminded her, noticing that Mrs. Godwin had tied a green-and-orange checked wool scarf around her head. The woman hated ocean wind blowing in her ears and always swore it gave her an earache.
“I don’t care if it’s August. If I’m cold, it’s too chilly for you in your delicate condition.”
“I’m not pregnant.”
The housekeeper narrowed her eyes. “There’s no need for sarcasm. You know what I meant. You aren’t strong.”
“I’m as strong as a horse. Just a crippled one.” Claire turned her gaze back to the ocean. She didn’t like scarves or hats, and she’d never had an earache since she was a small child. She loved the wind off the ocean, the stronger the better. It made her feel alive.
“They used to shoot horses when they broke their legs,” she continued. “Now they just use an injection to put them down. I’m not sure it’s any more humane.”
“We’re not talking about horses,” Mrs. Godwin said. “Your father wouldn’t approve of this. You’re not behaving sensibly.”
Claire didn’t answer. She was cold, but she wasn’t about to admit it. She’d been here on the pavilion since morning. She’d waited and watched, straining her eyes, hoping to see Morgan stroll up the beach or rise out of the waves like a merman, or a silky, or one of those mythological beings her
Green Fairy Tale Book
had been full of.
Green Fairy Tale Book
had been full of.
She’d been a fan of fairy tales when she was a child:
Red Fairy Tale Book
,
Yellow
, and
Green
; she’d cherished them all. Books and horses had meant everything to her. And now, she’d never feel the beautiful majesty of a horse under her, or possess the concentration to read again.
Red Fairy Tale Book
,
Yellow
, and
Green
; she’d cherished them all. Books and horses had meant everything to her. And now, she’d never feel the beautiful majesty of a horse under her, or possess the concentration to read again.
She tried to lose herself in the magic of novels, but after a few pages, she’d find that her eyes were playing tricks on her. The words were beginning to blur and there were white spaces scattered across the text. She began to forget if she’d read a paragraph or not. Instead, she found herself reduced to scanning magazines and watching DVDs.
She wanted Morgan to return with every fiber of her being. She’d tried to tell herself that she hadn’t imagined him, that he’d appear, just as he had before. She could see every feature of his handsome face, the width of his brow, and every curve of his lips. She pictured herself laughing with him, sharing the lunch that now stood wilting on the table. She’d forced herself to take a bite of her salad an hour or two ago, but it had tasted like hay. When he had been here with her, she’d been ravenous. Whatever she’d put in her mouth had seemed heavenly.
“Miss Claire? Are you listening to me?” Mrs. Godwin took hold of her wrist. “Your pulse seems erratic.”
Claire pulled her arm out of the woman’s grasp. “I’m fine. My pulse rate is normal and, in any case, you aren’t a medical professional.”
“Please, Miss Claire. You’ve got to stop this childish behavior. It’s not my place to question your—”
“Exactly, Mrs. Godwin, it’s not your place. My body may be a wreck, but I have enough sense left to know what I want. Please, leave me alone. I’ll come when I’m ready. If you’d like, take the evening off. You and Nathaniel go to town and see a movie or catch up on your shopping. I’m perfectly capable of getting something out of the refrigerator if I’m hungry later.”
Morgan didn’t come that day, and he didn’t come the next. Claire was late getting down to the beach on the third day because of physical therapy, but again, she waited in vain for him to appear. Hope had dimmed. Now she was bargaining with herself.
Certainly, all that nonsense about swimming to a cave and having him kiss her and touch her … the lovemaking … that had to be a dream. She could see that. But Morgan hadn’t been a dream. He had been here.
When her cell rang, she had the crazy idea that it might be him on the other end, but she quickly realized that it was her father calling. “Hi, Richard,” she chirped, trying to sound cheerful.
“How are you?”
“Fine. Stop worrying. You’re as bad as Mrs. Godwin.”
“You must be bored to death up there. When’s the last time you talked to someone other than Mrs. G. or one of the staff?”
“For your information, I’ve been bird watching. I’ve identified four new species in the last two days. I got a really great book online.”
“I meant human interaction, Claire, not birds.”
She made a sound of amusement. “Not just birds. I met a fascinating man two days ago.” Oops, she hadn’t meant to mention Morgan to her father. It just popped out. Now, she was in for it. She steeled herself for the lecture.
“Where? Who is he? Did he come to the house?”
“Stop,” she protested. “You’re not questioning a trial witness. My visitor wasn’t a salesman, and he wasn’t collecting for a charity. I met him here on the beach, and he was perfectly respectable.” Not exactly the entire truth, she admitted to herself, but close enough. After all, the whole underwater scene and the hot sex was a dream. Morgan wasn’t responsible for that.
“How did he get on your beach? And where was Nathaniel? What do you pay him for, if not for security?”
Claire drummed her fingers nervously on the table. What was wrong with her that she’d brought Morgan up with Richard? She must be losing her marbles. “Nathaniel is a gardener and handyman besides security. I imagine he was mowing the lawn. But, you aren’t listening to me. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m not a child anymore.”
“Your insistence on distancing yourself from me and your friends makes that quite clear.”
Claire felt her cheeks growing warm. He knew how to push all her buttons. “What friends? My real friends have gone on with their lives. They have careers, husbands, children.”
“You could have a career.”
“In what? Teaching? My degree is in Classical Greek and Roman History. I might be able to roll my wheelchair into a classroom, but my short-term memory would make my lectures dull to say the least. Or maybe I could go into research. Oops, I can’t read for more than ten minutes at a time, can I? Wait, I could write a book. ‘Twelve Steps to Losing Your Mind.’ ”
“That’s enough,” Richard snapped. “You’re making a career out of self-pity. As for marriage, you had a husband, and you were unhappy then too.”
“Great point.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked. “I know Justin did things that you found—”
“Deceitful? Disgusting?”
“You’re right, I’m out of line. I shouldn’t have brought Justin into this.”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
“I thought you two had a civilized divorce.”
“I don’t hate him, if that’s what you mean.”
“Then you should consider seeing him. He’s concerned about you.”
“I’m sure.” She was so angry with Richard that she wanted to hang up on him, but that would be immature. Adults had disagreements with other adults, and they talked it out. “I should never have mentioned having a conversation on my own beach with a pleasant and educated man. It’s what women my age do. It’s what women of any age enjoy doing.”
“You’re an innocent. Don’t you realize that you’re a very wealthy woman in an extremely vulnerable position? This isn’t like you, Claire. You could be taken advantage of. How do you know this man isn’t staking out the house for a burglary?”
“I suppose he must be.” Now, she couldn’t keep the sharpness out of her voice. “Why else would he bother to talk to me? What could I possibly have to say that would interest a man who didn’t want to rob me?”
“That isn’t what I meant at all, and you know it. Don’t cry, pumpkin. I didn’t call to upset you. I think you should come home. We’ll try another specialist.”
“No, we won’t. And if you can’t rein in your wild imagination, this conversation is over,” she said.
“Claire …”
“Claire, nothing. I love you, but I’m finished with this father-daughter chat, and I’m not taking any more calls from you until tomorrow. ’Bye.” She hit the end button and dropped the cell phone on the table. She was so upset that her hands were trembling.
She loved her father. She really did. But since the accident, he’d tried to control her life, and she was sick of it.
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