Page 12 of The Merman’s Betrothal (Outcast Hearts #2)
Having found the rhythm of his work, Rory began to relax. It was just as he was about to drop the sixth and final creel that a head popped out of the water.
‘You do know you’re littering my territory, yes?’ said the blue merman.
Rory flinched so hard he nearly toppled over the side. He grabbed the rail and regained his balance before cautiously peering at the water again.
The blue bastard was still there. His silky silver hair fanned around him as he bobbed on the waves. Rory couldn’t read anything in his expression except for the same arrogance that had been present in his greeting.
‘Are you going to try to drown me again?’ Rory retorted, surreptitiously glancing to the Star’s only life ring by the prow. He wondered if there was anything onboard he could use as a weapon.
‘Certainly not. Why would you think that?’
‘It’s what you mermaids— I mean, mer…folk? It’s what what you’re known for. Drowning sailors and the like.’
‘Really?’ A grin twitched at Fionn’s mouth, like the thought pleased him. ‘I didn’t know humans thought anything about us at all.’
‘Mostly we think you don’t exist.’ Rory inched his way along the deck. There was a long pole in the cabin with a hook on the end used for fishing rope out of the water. It might do in a pinch if he needed to defend himself. ‘How many of you do exist, by the way?’
‘Our kingdom is some two thousand strong within the Minch, though there are others who range over farther waters.’
It was a much higher number than Rory was prepared for. Two thousand? That was more than the entire population of Ullapool! And they were all swimming around down there, going about their business undetected?
Fionn swam closer. ‘I wish to board your boat.’
‘Fuck no,’ Rory spluttered. He darted to the cabin and grabbed the pole. Scrambling back to the side, he pointed it at the merman’s face. ‘Don’t even think about it.’
‘That’s a poor weapon,’ Fionn said doubtfully, looking it up and down. Then he inexplicably brightened. ‘Are you trained in combat? I am quite proficient with a spear.’
‘What?’ Rory felt he’d been knocked off-balance again.
‘Wait for me. I shall show you mine.’
The blue man disappeared below the surface. Rory froze. For a split-second his maritime instincts urged him that the guy was in trouble. He stared intensely at the spot to see if Fionn had come up for air.
He has gills, Rory reminded himself, while still not quite believing it.
He dropped his pole then hastily threw the last creel into the sea and didn’t hang around to watch it sink. Rory ran to the cabin and gunned the engine, turning the Star around.
He’d only travelled about three hundred yards towards the coastline when a metallic clunk resounded off the hull. Torn between stopping to check the noise and continuing to run the fuck away, Rory caved in to a sense of responsibility.
‘Please don’t tell me I’ve hit a merman,’ he muttered under his breath as he slowed the Star to a crawl.
There was another clatter right behind him. Rory turned slowly on the spot.
The blue merman finished hauling himself over the side of the Star’s railing. He bent to pick up the spear that he’d evidently thrown onto the deck, and then met Rory’s frozen gaze inside the cabin. ‘I told you to wait for me.’
Rory backed right against the Star’s console. ‘What do you want? ’
Fionn advanced on him, brandishing the spear. ‘To show you this.’
He held it up to the light. Rory couldn’t have taken his eyes off it if he’d tried. The shaft was made of some greenish-gold metal and the long, leaf-shaped blade was cut from transparent crystal. It scattered rainbow rays over the cabin as the merman turned it for Rory to see.
Rory held his breath. Quite apart from the beauty of the thing, it was also very sharp and far too close for his liking.
The merman appeared to be waiting for him to say something.
‘Very nice,’ Rory said hoarsely. ‘Very shiny.’
The merman nodded. ‘It is of the finest quality. Minch-forged brass, crafted by one of our premier royal artificers. The blade is fortified quartz. I have killed a whole pod of orcas with this weapon.’ Fionn faltered, like he suddenly wasn’t sure about boasting of orca-killing. Rory believed him, anyway.
‘Very nice,’ Rory repeated. ‘Can you… take it away?’
The merman stepped back into the sun. At first Rory thought his eyes were playing tricks, but in the light it was clear that Fionn’s skin had changed colour.
Now he looked like any other sun-shy Scotsman.
The swirling blue tattoos that stretched from his right shoulder to left hip were suddenly much more striking against this paler backdrop.
He also wore a kind of harness that followed the line of these tattoos across his body, with all sorts of tools strapped to it.
‘Is your kilt made of seaweed?’ Rory asked faintly. He tore his eyes away, mortified with where he’d been staring. There was a large white clam shell in the space where a sporran would be.
‘Yes. The finest woven kelp.’ The merman untied an item from his chest strap and held it out. ‘This is for you. A gift.’
When Rory didn’t come forward to collect it, Fionn frowned and stepped inside the cabin again to wave it in front of Rory’s face. ‘It is a clam knife. I made this one myself.’
Rory tentatively held out his hand to receive the large pinkish-brown clam shell. Its curved edge had been honed to be brutally sharp. It looked very easy to slice a finger on.
‘I’ll just… put it down over here…’ Rory slid it onto a shelf under the console, away from the wheel. He considered trying to push past the merman to get out onto the deck, but Fionn more or less filled the entire opening.
Fionn seemed alarmed. ‘You don’t like it? I spent hours honing its edge. It will cut anything. It is a superb knife.’
‘Why did you give me it?’ Rory shot back. ‘You better not be like one of those penguins that gives stones to the lady penguin to make her like him.’
Oh, Christ, why did he have to say something like that? Even acknowledging the idea of Fionn maybe being attracted to him felt like the declaration of a guilty secret. And had he just referred to himself as the lady penguin?
All Rory wanted was for this impossible man to get off his boat. So why wasn’t he manhandling Fionn onto the deck and throwing his tattooed blue arse overboard?
He does have a very sharp spear, his common sense reminded him. Also, maybe he’ll kiss me again.
Rory’s throat went dry at the prospect of clashing tongues with his nearly-naked companion once again.
Aside from his seaweed kilt and weird chest strap, the no-longer-blue merman appeared to be very naked indeed.
Every inch of Fionn looked solid and unyielding, like he’d been sculpted by one of those Renaissance artists that was suspiciously fond of showing off the muscles in a male body.
This comparison was what made Rory realise the merman was also unreasonably smooth.
Fear began to take a backseat as Rory’s curiosity piqued. Did Fionn wax everywhere, or did he just not grow hair on his body? His chest looked so glossy from the sheen of water—he was practically gleaming as the sun emerged again from behind a cloud.
Fascinated, Rory watched a droplet slide all the way from the merman’s collarbone to the blank space where a belly button ought to have been.
Meanwhile, Fionn was trying to plow through an answer to the confusing question Rory had just posed. ‘I am nothing like a penguin. I am not a bird. Why would I give you a stone? My knife is much better than a stone.’
Fionn’s deeply furrowed brow uncreased as he thought of something. ‘Oh, but are you asking if I am trying to win your favour as a mate? In that case yes . Yes, that is what I’m doing.’
The merman trailed off, then cleared his throat, snapping Rory back to the reality in front of him. Was it his imagination, or was Fionn’s pompous composure suddenly ruffled? Rory considered where he’d been staring and flushed hot with embarrassment. The waves in his chest crashed hot and restless.
Why the fuck was he staring like a horny teenager? He needed to get a grip on himself.
‘What is that?’ Fionn asked, pointing past Rory to a photograph mounted next to the ignition.
The image showed Rory in black scuba gear giving a thumbs up to the camera through a crowd of colourful fish.
A bank of pink coral poked into the right frame of the picture and the wings of a stingray could be glimpsed behind Rory’s head.
It was a personal treasure, which was why it lived on the Star where Rory could appreciate it nearly every day.
‘It’s the Great Barrier Reef.’ Rory told himself that he answered only because he was thrown off by the intensity of Fionn’s attention.
Fionn nodded, locking eyes in a way that suggested he was patiently waiting for more explanation, and Rory was compelled to provide it.
‘You know, the largest coral reef in the world?’
‘And where is it?’ Fionn cocked his head, sounding genuinely fascinated. ‘I do not recognise many of the fish in the picture.’
‘Um, off Australia. Other side of the world.’
Fionn’s eyebrows lifted as he glanced back at Rory. He pointed to the scuba gear. ‘And is this you?’
‘Yes.’
It seemed Fionn’s gaze lit up with a newfound respect. ‘You have travelled far, Rory Douglas. And you are not afraid of entering our world below the waves. I am impressed.’
Fucking hell. Rory’s cheeks set on fire. Perhaps it was because he got the sense that it was very hard to impress Fionn—but even so, his body had no business reacting this way to the man’s admiration.
‘It was only once,’ he muttered back. A little more of the truth slipped out. ‘I’d go back if I could.’
Fionn was still studying the image. ‘What prevents you?’
Was it the fact that they were all alone on a boat at sea with no one else around to judge, or was it simply the directness of Fionn’s tone that made Rory examine the question honestly? A lifetime of indecision, he ought to answer. My father’s disappointment.