Page 13 of The Merman’s Betrothal (Outcast Hearts #2)

‘Duty, I guess,’ was the answer Rory said out loud. ‘I’ve got my dad and the fishing business to look after. He’s uh… not sick, exactly. But he needs me around.’

Behind their conversation, Rory was distracted by the strange tugging sensation in his chest. It came and went like more waves with Fionn’s questions and his replies, and now snapped taut as Fionn looked up.

‘Ah. Duty,’ the merman said softly. ‘I understand.’

Rory was caught in Fionn’s storm-grey eyes. They both fell silent, swaying with the natural yaw of the boat beneath their feet

To Rory, it was far too intimate. He swallowed hard, trying to remember the reasons he ought to be afraid of this man and everything he stood for.

The horde of mer-monsters living beneath the waves.

And wasn’t this guy a prince, or something?

He probably did know a thing or two about duty, then.

The real sort, not the vague excuse that Rory had come up with.

‘How many of you did you say there are down there?’ he asked, just to realign his own brain.

‘Around two thousand reside in our kingdom, as of our last count. Though our numbers are dwindling. Young Bluefolk are called by adventure to distant waters, while humans continue to encroach upon our territory.’ Fionn failed to conceal a sneer at Rory’s creel pots on the deck as he added the last part.

Rory connected several dots at once. Relieved to have a reason to break the tension, he moved swiftly into anger.

‘Are you lot breaking my bloody creels?’ Rory said furiously, stepping in to Fionn’s face. It was much easier to be angry. Simpler than facing the other confusing feelings swirling through his brain and body.

Fionn was nearly a whole head taller than him—but Rory had learned not to be cowed by anyone’s stature, even if he had to crane his neck to get a good glare in. He had, to be fair, also forgotten about the spear in the merman’s hands.

Fionn had the nerve to look affronted. ‘Your creels are in my ocean. Besides, they are barbaric. You keep your prey alive in the trap. And they are indiscriminate, catching all manner of creature regardless of whether they are of any use to you.’

Rory couldn’t believe his ears. ‘Right. I suppose you only eat seaweed and plankton then, or whatever else passes for vegan out there.’

‘No. We eat fish and crustaceans too.’ Fionn sniffed, looking right down his nose at Rory. ‘But we kill our food immediately on the hunt. We do not make it sit and wait for death.’

Rory couldn’t help squinting at him. The merman sounded like some ill-informed activist waving a bloody banner.

Like someone who hadn’t done their fucking research.

‘So you’d rather I use a trap that kills whatever wanders into it?

Without any opportunity to sift and release the bycatch?

Yeah, real fucking sustainable. And definitely not fucking inhumane. ’

Rory ignored the spear completely and pushed the ignorant merman across the deck. Fionn didn’t put up much resistance, though the scowl on his face said he wanted to.

‘And that’s the ethical issue you’re going to fuck with humans over?

My fucking creels? What about the mass fucking pollution that’s destroying our oceans?

The micro-plastics that you’re probably ingesting every fucking day.

How about the way we’ve absolutely decimated our climate so that the oceans are heating up and bleaching our coral reefs and killing off marine species left right and centre—’ Rory sucked in a breath, overwhelmed by his own outpouring and unable to stop.

‘— That would be a good reason to fuck with me. How about you fuck off back to your underwater castle or whatever, until you’ve got the balls to fight about something worthwhile. ’

Fionn blanched, and the waves in Rory’s chest bucked. He surmised he’d hit a nerve. Rory braced, reading aggression in the way the merman’s muscles tensed. But of course, it wasn’t actually Fionn who had brought up the idea of fighting, was it?

‘Tch.’ Fionn turned and leapt over the rail.

He disappeared under the water with a streamlined splash. The waves lapped over the spot and Rory curbed the instinct to check if the merman was drowning.

Rory hunched into his coat. The ocean was quiet again—just the slap of waves against the hull and the calls of seabirds echoing from the nearest cliffs.

Jesus. He hadn’t meant to go off on one like that.

But it was just so galling to discover there was a whole kingdom of mer-people down there, who lived in the actual ocean, who were apparently just as complacent as humans about protecting it.

If Rory were a merman, he’d be fucking doing something about it.

He glanced at the photograph.

It was easier to be angry than to actually do something though, wasn’t it?

Easier to be angry than risk his dad looking at him like he was nothing.

That trip to the Barrier Reef had been the greatest experience of Rory’s life, and also the worst aftermath.

Hamish and Doaty wasted no time in bringing him back down to reality.

Reminding Rory that he was nothing but a useless prick with grand ideas above his station.

It must be true, because he was still in Ullapool. Rather than out in the world doing something he cared about.

Maybe it was a tiny bit unfair to put all of that on Fionn’s head.

Rory wondered if Fionn was watching from below the surface, judging him right back. He briefly considered calling it a day and going home early, but he didn’t want to be chased from his own fishing grounds. He’d fought too hard to keep this business afloat; he wasn’t going to let it sink now.

Rory set course for the next orange buoy where he’d drop the second line of creels. The blue bastard probably had no idea what it meant to work hard. If Fionn was a prince, then he probably lived a life of luxury. What was the underwater equivalent of a silver spoon?

Fionn’s clam knife caught his eye in the cabin. Rory picked it up. It could be mistaken for a regular clam shell with an extra smooth edge. But, testing it against a spare piece of rope, Rory discovered it was wickedly sharp.

He made this, Rory thought, staring at it blankly. What have I ever made?

And then his mind wandered back to the spear and Fionn’s apparent hunting skills. He didn’t want to admit that it sent a shiver down his spine to imagine the merman hunting down a shark in the dark depths.

Rory shook the image out of his head. But as he dropped the next line of creels, working more or less on auto-pilot, his unsettling new feelings about Fionn ticked over in the background anyway.

Was it wrong that Rory kind of wanted to see him again? That he was sort of curious about Fionn’s life underwater? That maybe, possibly, he’d enjoyed being pursued for a moment back there?

I’m just horny, Rory told himself. It doesn’t mean anything. I don’t ever want to see that blue prick again.