The Merman and the Barbarian Pirate (3 page)

Raef pushed himself up, supporting himself on his palms and straining for a better view. He'd succeeded. This must be England. Caution nagged, vying with his excitement. He should get away from this exposed spot and find a submerged sandbank to recuperate on, but he couldn't rip his gaze from the castle. It was wrought from white stone rather than gold, but was larger and grander than he'd imagined any building could be. He longed to look inside. He was tempted to remain out of the water 'til sundown, to shift into human form and go exploring… but no. That
would
be reckless. Apart from that trip into the harbor of one of the Scilly Isles, this was his first real sortie into the realm of land dwellers.

With an effort, Raef rolled back into the bubbling surf, though he didn't swim far. After splashing a few yards, he pulled himself up onto a clump of uneven rock padded with seaweed. He could peep at the castle from a concealed position to the rear while he lay on his belly and recovered.

He relaxed, his body molding into the damp blanket of seaweed, and the clouds above thinned into white wisps. The writhing ocean around him calmed. A late afternoon sun warmed his back, his fins, and the flopping length of his tail, which dangled above lazily-lapping waves. The bay remained quiet, though from time to time he was able to enjoy his favorite activity—watching humans. One or two figures strolled on the lawns in front of the castle, and a fishing boat crewed by five men sailed into harbor. The womenfolk from the cottages hurried out to help drag the boat up the beach, grinding across the shingle. Together, they hauled in their daily catch, setting the gulls wheeling and screaming as the bay filled with the brackish scent of dead fish.

All of this fascinated Raef, though he felt no urge to interact with these people. They seemed pleasant enough, and one of the seamen was a straight-backed young fellow with a shock of red hair and a noisy laugh. While Raef admired him, he wasn't the handsome prince Raef came here for. Presently, the sky deepened to the color of a roasted lobster, and Raef realized he must climb back into the waters soon. Already his blood rushed, anticipating the magical energy that would gather at his core and rid him of his tail in favor of legs if he remained out of the sea much longer.

He verged on slipping back into the sea, when he spied more movement in the vicinity of the castle. A tall man strode down the path toward the beach. His fine, emerald-green coat and confident strut suggested he was of aristocratic birth. Raef's breaths quickened. Was
he
a prince? He didn't wear a crown, so Raef suspected not. Perhaps he was a young lord or duke.

Irresistibly drawn, Raef levered himself as high onto the rocks as he dared, dragging his tail over his seaweed bed, which was now dried and scratchy. To Raef's dismay, the noble was not alone. A blond servant boy followed behind, cradling a large wicker hamper and running to keep up. The noble strode down the wooden jetty, a mere stone's toss away from Raef. He climbed into a small boat moored alongside the jetty and reclined against the prow, waiting for his servant to join him.

Raef's heart fluttered toward frenzy. The noble's features were even and perfect, his strong chin raised at a proud angle. He was beautiful—another blow to Galyna's claims that humans were less good-looking than merfolk. The chieftain was wrong. And unless everything Raef had learned from birth was equally incorrect, such a faultless face revealed a good soul.

"Hurry up, Stephen," called the nobleman, his deep voice smooth as a gliding eel.

"I'm sorry, my lord Haverford. I'm here."

So Raef observed a lord indeed. The servant boy, Stephen, clambered into the boat, placed down the hamper, and proceeded to cast off. Haverford lounged in the hull, while Stephen, a much slighter figure, sculled through the surf. The breeze agitated Haverford's sandy hair, teasing strands from a ribbon used to style it. He didn't glance once at Stephen, instead gazing thoughtfully out to sea, and Raef let his hopes elevate.

Haverford looked like a romantic sort of fellow. Could he be the one Raef would set his heart on? He gasped with pleasure at the prospect… and his breath jammed in his lungs. The crown of the sun's head was dipping over the horizon; the moon shone bright above the craggy line of the cliffs. He was seized by a fiery pain, which wracked him from head to toe before focusing its agony on his lower portions.

Raef was free of the water at sunset, which meant the shift between his merman and human forms was happening. As his tail ripped in two and his gills healed over, he flopped prostrate on the rock. A searing heat consumed him. He pounded his fists and wanted to scream. Instead, he bit his lip so hard he tasted blood and surrendered to a paroxysm of shivers. His emerging human body felt helpless as a newborn babe's.

After a short while trembling and panting, Raef wiped tears from his cheeks and sat up, gazing across the bay. Haverford and Stephen had disappeared. Stephen must have rowed around the headland.

With a groan of disappointment, Raef dragged himself to his feet, steadying himself with a hand on the highest part of the crag. His human legs, though sturdy enough, looked pale under the glare of the rising moon. The nest of golden curls above his prick, so soft and vulnerable, glistened. This body still felt new and strange to him, having only occupied it half a dozen times. After rolling his shoulders, he flexed his powerful back and arm muscles and raked his fingers through his cascading hair. Though feeling stronger by the moment, he shivered.

Shifting had been a mistake. Now he'd have to find somewhere dry to shelter and keep his human body warm 'til he could get his tail and gills back at sunrise. Thank goodness it was a balmy night, for he'd no notion how to build a fire. He still didn't feel brave enough to venture onto land to find some of those strange clothes.

Or should I go after Lord Haverford and throw myself on his mercy?

The idea set his blood rushing, but he mustn't be hasty. Ali had warned him not to fall for anybody at first glance. He'd heed that advice for now. Beyond those irresistible looks, he knew nothing about Haverford, or whether there were already lovers in his life, male or female. Raef would have to bide his time.

As the long summer drifted by, Raef kept a watch on Lord Haverford. In the mornings, he explored the nearby coastline. Each afternoon, he returned to the bay to wait for Haverford, who regularly came down to the jetty and voyaged to an otherwise inaccessible cave around the headland. Haverford would take wine and enjoy a picnic, then often, he’d disappear inside. Raef saw Stephen with Haverford again, as well as other servants, male and female. From time to time, Haverford sculled himself out there alone. These occasions set Raef imagining what rapturous acts of coupling they could indulge in together. He wished to surrender himself to Haverford, body and soul.

His longing burgeoned in unison with his loneliness, a gnawing pain that grew and grew. It swelled inside his chest, 'til one bright day, he could endure it no more. He'd gifted his heart to Haverford, and there was only one way forward. He must reveal himself the next time Haverford came to his cave—to fulfil his promise to his mother and let his lifelong dream come true.

So he swam out to the middle of the cove in front of the castle and he waited.

Two

Pink evening light was rippling the waters, when Raef spotted a ship coming around the promontory to the south of the bay. He shaded his eyes and squinted into the glare, bobbing low among the waves. The prow cut between the foaming white horses, its gray sails billowing in the breeze. The ship's figurehead depicted one of Raef's kind:  a female mermaid with hair as golden as his, though her wooden breasts and face were painted bright blue.

The sailors on board knew the waters well, for they were giving the treacherous hidden rocks a wide berth. One of them leaned over the railings, shading his eyes from the glare of the sun. He shouted instructions to his companions, who hurried among the masts and rigging. Even from a hundred yards afar, Raef could tell he was a tall man with long, windswept hair and a smudge of dark stubble across his chin.

Raef plunged under the water and headed in the direction of the ship. He splashed between the waves at such a furious pace he set a flock of feeding gulls flapping and squawking.
Why, why, why? Why tonight?
He hoped the vessel wouldn't moor nearby and spoil his plans. Oh, how he ached for Haverford.

When Raef surfaced, relief skittered through him. The vessel wasn't heading for the castle jetty after all. It navigated the mouth of the bay and into strong currents that would sweep it around the northern headland.

Good. It must be a merchant vessel passing by, not important enough to disturb a lord. Hearing a chorus of honks, Raef glanced up. A dozen geese swept overhead in a
V
formation, the leader dropping back to allow another to take the brunt of the wind on its beak. Not even a squad of fire-breathing dragons could have captured Raef's attentions for long. Haverford's castle still transfixed him. It had never looked more stunning than it did now, white stone silhouetted against a mottled pink sky. He swept his dripping hair from his eyes, cast aside his irritation, and pulled himself up onto his favorite rocky outcrop to continue his vigil.

By the hour Haverford emerged, the sun had set and Raef had shifted into his human form. Haverford descended the steps of the castle and paced down the track, bound for the sea. Raef's heart fluttered more frantically than the birds heading to roost. No servant followed. Raef's beautiful lord was alone. Raef was naked and defenseless, and he set his determination like iron. This was his moment.

After Haverford cast off, Raef slipped into the water and followed the boat at distance, doing a breast stroke and kicking with his human legs. He craved to be the salty spray that brushed Haverford's firm lips and licked the line of that chiseled jaw. Adoration swelled at his core.

Haverford's soul, Raef had reason to believe, was indeed as beautiful as his face. During lazy summer days when Raef couldn't be bothered to explore too far afield, he had observed Haverford walking his lawns with an elderly lady or driving her about in a gig. Paddling through the surf, Raef smiled at the memory of such sweetness.

Haverford soon reached the small beach near the mouth of the cave and waded ashore, dragging the boat up onto the shingle. To access the cave, which was tucked beneath a precariously perched stone ruin, he had to clamber over some rocks, and tiptoe along a ledge while clinging to the cliff face. Raef enjoyed observing this activity, peeping from behind a seaweed-clad outcrop. Foam spattered Haverford's stockings and tight knee breeches, making the fabric stick to his shapely rear.

With a leap, Haverford alighted on the natural shelf in front of the cave, stretched his arms, and gazed into the dusk. Raef's heart started to hammer. Now was his chance, but what would Raef say to his lord? It had been a long while since he'd conversed with another, save one-sided chats with porpoises. He'd planned various speeches in his head, but they suddenly seemed inadequate. None of the accounts of mermaids revealing themselves to their princes detailed exactly how the business should be executed. Should he give himself silently, falling at Haverford's feet? Would that be best, or would Haverford think him a fool?

Moonlight gilded Haverford's profile, placid as a mask. Raef's misgivings faded. Fate had brought them together, conjured this moment under the starlight, where two solitary souls could meet, then their bodies entwine. It was perfect. Raef firmed his palms on the rock and prepared to rise up and reveal himself.

Before Raef had shown more than the top half of his head, Haverford swiveled on the spot, crying out in alarm. Raef crouched back down, terrified. They were not alone after all. Three men had emerged from the blackness of the cave, all of them rough-looking and armed with glinting blades. Raef recognized the fellow among them who stepped to the fore. He towered a head's worth of height above the followers, and was built sturdier even than Haverford. It was the man who'd leaned over the prow of the boat, his sleek hair swept back in a headscarf, and he was no merchant or fisherman. This scoundrel brandished a cutlass, and a gold hoop gleamed at one ear. His sleeves were rolled up as high as his bulging biceps, revealing tattoos covering his thick arms.

A kluggite.

Sweet heavens, will he kill my lord?

"What the devil?" shouted Lord Haverford.

"Poetic indeed," said the tall kluggite in a lilting brogue. "The fiend calls upon his own for deliverance." He laughed, echoed by the titters of his companions. One of them had a face as bloated as a jellyfish, and the other, a skinny wretch, sported a scar that sliced across his face. "Hand over that ruby ring to pay a little of your dues, and I might neglect to slash your throat."

"You wouldn't dare, you fiend. I'll fillet you alive." Lord Haverford clasped the bejeweled hilt of a dagger at his belt, and Raef whispered a prayer to whichever deity of the oceans would listen. In merfolk stories, kluggites were often slow and stupid and easily outwitted. Surely his lord was skilled enough to best these ruffians, to cut all three down as if they were less than one? How glorious that would be.