FROM THE DEEP

With stories by

Karin Huxman

Taylor Manning

Shelley Munro

Sea Change © copyright August 2005, Karin Huxman

The Lady of the Loch © copyright August 2005, Taylor Manning

Currents Run Deep © copyright August 2005, Shelley Munro

Cover art by Kat Richards, © copyright August 2005

ISBN 1-58608-630-8

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s
imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or
events is merely coincidence.

SEA CHANGE

By

Karin Huxman

Full Fathom Five

, by William Shakespeare

Full fathom five thy father lies;

Of his bones are coral made;

Those are pearls that were his eyes:

Nothing of him that doth face,

But doth suffer a sea change

Into something rich and strange.

Sea nymphs hourly ring his knell:

Ding-dong.

Hark! Now I hear them – Ding-dong, bell.

From The Tempest

Chapter One

1840

Marianne Shore turned her face into the cool October air that raked across the island from
the Atlantic. Her heavy skirts anchored her to the narrow decking of the “widow’s walk”
that made its way around the periphery of the rooftop. A cast iron rail edged the walk.
She gripped it with both hands, glad for the added support as she stared first down to the
harbor and then out to the endless horizon of the sea.

The dazzling sun turned the restless sea into glittering diamonds. Marianne searched the
horizon again, hoping to see a square-masted whaler come into view. Her husband was
the captain of the Whelp . The ship was weeks late coming into port. Winter came harsh
and early to Nantucket Island. Everyone with a man on a ship at sea counted the days
until they were safe again.

She spied a young boy zipping through the crowd on the wharf. Fair hair poked from
around the edges of his cap. He ran up her street and then to the back of the house where
the cook or the housekeeper would let him in. A fine tremor ran through her, of
excitement or of anxiety, she knew not which.

After one more glance at the surrounding water, Marianne gathered her skirts and entered
the winding staircase that would bring her back to the living quarters. Three stories high,
her home on Wharf Street was hard to heat in the winter and getting that run down look
to it. She’d run out of money to hire a man to keep the front garden in order. The fence
had several boards missing and could use a good layer of whitewash.

She sighed and pressed her hand to her bosom. Money, she hated that there wasn’t
enough. She considered the running boy. Maybe he’d brought news of the Whelp and of
Silas. Her skirts rustled as she walked faster. The lightly laced corset she wore, only to
fend off stares from the other wives if she didn’t, cut into her sides. Slowly and with
dignity, she told herself again.

Silas had liked her exuberant ways when he’d met and wooed her in Jamaica, her true
home, three years ago. But once they’d returned to his home on Nantucket, he’d become
obsessed with her behavior and dress. He’d wanted her to be a proper sea captain’s wife.

She set those thoughts aside as she reached the final landing. Mrs. McCann, the
housekeeper, stood at the bottom of the stairs, the fair headed boy beside her. He grasped
a bit of foolscap in one hand. As Marianne stepped off the bottom step, he grabbed the
grubby cap off his head and stared at his feet.

“Well?” Marianne asked.

Mrs. McCann’s face was ashen. “The boy brought news, ma’am.” She shook the boy.
“Go on, tell her.”

“Aye, the man at Nantucket Wholesale Whaling sent me with this note for Mrs. Shore,
the captain’s wife. Are you Mrs. Shore?”

Mrs. McCann cuffed him. “Of course she is. What’s wrong with you? Go on, give it to
her. Tell her.”

He turned his head so that he looked at Marianne sideways through narrowed eyes. The
back of her neck prickled.

She cleared her throat and held out her hand. “Well?” she said again.

The boy handed her the grubby piece of paper. She read, “The Whelp comes into port
shortly. We ask your company here at the shipping office today at the hour of noon to
settle your late husband’s affairs.”

Marianne stared at the paper. What did it mean? Settle her late husband’s affairs? He
could settle them himself when he made port in two weeks.

“Ma’am? Is it good news, Mrs. Shore?” Mrs. McCann asked. Her hands clenched in the
voluminous folds of her apron.

The words on the paper started to sink in. Marianne shook her head. The boy’s shuffling
feet caught her attention.

“What do you know of this?” she asked him, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

He shuffled some more, then he looked at her sideways again and said, “I heard tell that
your husband, the good Cap‘n Shore himself, fell overboard. His portion of the earnings
go to you.” Mrs. McCann shook him. “Ma’am,” he added.

“That’s ridiculous,” Marianne snapped. “Overboard indeed. Mrs. McCann, give this imp
some sweet from the kitchen and send him on his way.”

Mrs. McCann led the boy towards the back of the house. Marianne crossed the polished
pine floorboards to the parlor. She pulled the doors closed behind her and slumped into
the nearest chair. Dear God, she thought, could it be true?

Her heart beat rapidly as she reread the words on the paper and remembered what the boy
had said. It must be some mistake, she thought. It had to be. She was here on this
godforsaken piece of rock, nothing like the warm, palm covered lands where she’d grown
up, only because Silas had insisted on bringing his bride home to the family.

His family was as cold as the sea and as hard as the rocks that barricaded this island from
it. The fact that she’d been unable to conceive had not been a point in her favor. Still, she
was part of their family now that she was Silas’s wife. In their taciturn way they’d tried to
welcome her.

She shook the stray memories from her mind. She looked at the watch pinned to her
blouse. It was ten and thirty minutes. Where had the time gone? It had been little past
nine when she’d come down from the widow’s walk. Widow, would that be her title
now?

Never one to turn and run, Marianne stood, crumbling the ill message in her hands. Mr.
Morrison, the owner of the Whelp and owner of the Nantucket Wholesale Whaling
warehouse would have the answers. He was a grave, crooked old man who smelled of
vinegar. It was not a meeting she looked forward to.

* * * *

Jonah McAdams scowled. The stench of a whaling town was the main reason he rarely
visited one. If he hadn’t heard of a store of precious ambergris, worth over four-hundred
dollars a pound by some reckoning, he wouldn’t have made port in Nantucket.

He leaned over the dockside rail of his schooner, Poseidon , and stared at the crowded
dock below. Men swarmed the sea-washed boards. They pushed barrels, toted bales of
dry goods, and hauled on the pulley ropes in the act of loading or unloading some ship or
other. This was home port to many whaling ships. The din was incredible. Here and a
there a handful of women and children stood in hesitant groups amid the organized chaos
around them.

Enough.

Jonah spoke briefly to his first mate then strode down the gangway and stepped into the
crowd. For a moment the mass of men heaved against him. Then he began to move and a
path opened before him. He heard snatches of whispered conversations eddy in his wake.
He’d always heard them.

“Jonah, bad luck name for a sailor, mate….”

“The Devil has green eyes like him, I reckon….”

“Never lost a ship or cargo to storm, heard tell….”

“Swims like a fish….”

Jonah grimaced at that one. The truest of the lot, yet no man had

ever seen him swim. If he had, Jonah would have lost his foothold in this world.

He stopped listening to the babble and found his way to a swinging sign over a battered
door. The wooden sign, sporting a sperm whale blowing, swung in the cool breeze.
Nantucket Wholesale Whaling was painted on the lintel of the door. This was the place.

The cold, cavernous room smelled like fish and oiled rope and wooden barrels.
Apparently Nantucket Wholesale Whaling sold more than the products of whaling. They
had goods on hand to supply any ship. He’d heard that they also traded in the kinds of
goods he carried, silk from China, spices from the Indies, in exchange for their whale oil,
whale bone, and other by-products of hunting a whale.

Jonah closed the door and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. He heard voices
off to his right and wandered in that direction. No doubt Abe Morrison, the owner, was
waiting for him in his office.

A soft female voice murmured into a silence. The sound struck Jonah still. Her voice--he
couldn’t understand the words--held confusion and unhappiness. It had the familiar
quality of his people, an undulating huskiness that whispered to him.

Impossible, he told himself. He continued towards the voices again. A circle of lamp light
revealed a trio of people. The woman sat straight as a mast on a plain wooden chair. An
elderly man, white haired and bewhiskered sat in the other chair, a large desk between the
two. The third man, younger with a smug face and a weak chin, stood behind the older
man.

Just as Jonah stepped into the light, the woman said, “If that is the case, then I will
require immediate transport to Jamaica. There is nothing left for me here.”

The liquid tones that bespoke a Caribbean upbringing had Jonah staring at her. Her dark
hair gleamed in the soft light, what he could see of it under her proper bonnet. His fingers
itched to tear off that bonnet and let her hair free. A few tendrils curled from under the
back of the hat. He wondered if she’d simply hauled it on top of her head and jammed the
bonnet on the best she could.

The younger man spoke. “Mrs. Shore, our firm will happily take care of the disposal of
any property left in your name. But your late husband did not own much. The house you
live in is owned by his parents, as are most of the furnishings. Of course, your portion of
the cargo is substantial.”

“Then all I need to do is find passage.” Her voice, though musical, was strained, Jonah
noticed. A new widow….

“I’ll see what I can do, madam,” the elderly gentleman said. “We have but a few whaling
ships traveling south this time of year. They’ll not take a female on board.”

“Yes, I am an expert on bad luck,” she replied.

Jonah cleared his throat, eavesdropping did not suit him, and he’d learned all he needed
or wanted to know.

The three turned his way. Mr. Morrison and the other man nodded at him. The woman,
Mrs. Shore, stared. Her eyes, green as the sea, opened wide, her nostrils flared, and he
detected the beginnings of a blush on her cheeks. He often had that effect on women.

“What do you want?” the young man said, his nose in the air, his thumbs stuck into his
vest.

A posturing sea pup if ever there was one.

Jonah inclined his head to Mrs. Shore and spoke to Mr. Morrison. “Sir, I have business
with you. I’ve heard you have a certain commodity for which I have many fine wares to
trade.”

Morrison harrumphed. “Your name, sir?”

“McAdams, Jonah McAdams of the Poseidon . Recently returned from the Orient.”

“Ah, Captain McAdams, you’ve a reputation.” Morrison didn’t say what that reputation
pertained to. He studied Jonah for a moment, then turned back to Mrs. Shore. “Madam,
Nantucket Wholesale Whaling and I are very sorry for your loss. As soon as the Whelp
docks and we can ascertain the cargo, I will cut you a check for your late husband’s share
of the earnings and send it wherever you wish. I’ve had a message that the ship’s luck
finally changed on this voyage.”

“It seems my husband’s luck changed also,” she said. She stood. “Very well, when do
you expect the ship to make port?”

“A day or two, madam.”

“And you will find me passage on a ship?” Her hands held the back of the chair so tightly
that her knuckles showed white even in this light.

“I shall do what I can, madam.”

“Thank you, Mr. Morrison.” She nodded to both men at the desk and swept past Jonah
without turning her head.

Her scent stayed with him, like a fair weather breeze on a warm day, and just as
dangerous.

He refocused on the men who looked at him expectantly. “Shall we get down to business,
gentlemen?”

Thirty minutes later Jonah was striding back to the Poseidon . No deal had yet been
reached. These Yankees enjoyed a good bargain and they were adept at getting the best of
any deal. It had been decided that Morrison and Matthew Keagan, the younger of the two
men, would come aboard the Poseidon this evening for a meal. They would inspect his
goods in the hold and decide on how much ambergris they were willing to part with.

Dark lowering clouds and a stiffening wind made Jonah want to set sail and feel the
waves crashing with a coming storm. He inhaled deeply of the scents around him, sifting
through the unwashed people and muddy lanes until he could smell the freshness of the
ocean. He also smelled food and realized how hungry he was. Just in front of him a door
swung open letting out two men and the mouth-watering aroma of meat pasties. Jonah
went through the door to satisfy at least one of his hungers.

Chapter Two

“Is it bad?” Mrs. McCann asked when Marianne arrived home.

“Yes.” She hardly knew what to think. Her fingers struggled with the ribbons of her
bonnet. Everything was starting to sink in. She’d walked home in a kind of daze.

“Yes,” she said again. “Mrs. McCann, please ask cook to join us in the parlor. I’ll tell you
both together.”

The other woman rustled to the kitchen and once again Marianne found herself in the
parlor. It was a cool room even during the height of summer. On this cloud-cooled day in
October it was simply dismal. Though a fire had been laid, she didn’t put flame to it.
Maybe tonight, after dinner. No, tonight she had to tell Silas’ parents. There would be no
relaxing evening by the fire after that.

Her throat ached with the effort of containing her emotions. Verily, she did not know
which emotion took the fore. Was it heartache that made it hard to breathe? After the first
month and after his first voyage after the marriage their ardor had cooled. Especially
when she’d remained barren. She would miss Silas, but she hadn’t loved him the way she
ought to have.

Fear then, that had to be what she felt. It made her legs weak and caused her brain to
move slowly. She’d asked Mr. Morrison about passage back to Jamaica. The idea had
come to her like a storm in her mind. Run away home, away from the unforgiving stares
of Jedidiah and Hester Shore, his parents. She had failed to produce a grandson, any
grandchild, so had been a useless personage in their opinion.

It wasn’t fear, though. She’d faced them before and not wilted. Anger coursed through
her. She wanted to yell out her rage at the unfairness of believing in a life that had been a
disappointment, and in a husband who had been a failure.

Was this grief, she wondered; this tidal wave of feelings that she couldn’t find a way to
step away from? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was what she did next. Mrs. McCann
and Mrs. Nelson came to the door, hesitated, and then entered the room.

“Please sit,” Marianne told them.

They remained standing. Identical expressions worried their faces; from down turned lips
to furrowed brows they radiated unease.

“Very well,” Marianne said. “I’ve been to the shipping office. Captain Shore has been
lost at sea, as the boy said.” She swallowed hard, not letting them see how difficult it was
for her to say the words out loud. “As soon as the Whelp docks and my portion is paid
out, I intend to depart for Jamaica, the island on which I grew up.”

They stared at her. Neither spoke.

Marianne continued. “If you wish I will help you find new positions. I will certainly write
letters of reference for you. You have both….” She fumbled with her handkerchief and

dabbed at her eyes. “You have both been kind and good to me. I thank you.” Her voice
sank to a whisper at the last and she could hardly see the two for the unshed tears in her
eyes.

“Thank you, Mrs. Shore,” Mrs. Nelson said. “I would appreciate that letter of good word
from you.” She lumbered out of the room.

The concern in Mrs. McCann’s kind eyes almost undid Marianne. “How can I help you,
you poor dear, you?” the older woman said.

“I must find mourning clothes. Then I’ll need the trunks brought down from the attic so
that I can pack. Then, then I must talk to Silas’, I mean Captain Shore’s, parents.” There
was so much to do, so many overwhelming decisions to make.

Mrs. McCann stepped closer. “Yes, dearie. Those things will get done. But for you, just
for you, how can I help?”

Marianne didn’t know what to do. But Mrs. McCann did. She took the last step towards
the younger woman and held her tight. The kindness was too much to bear. Marianne
sobbed in her housekeeper’s arms.

* * * *

Jonah stood at the rail of Poseidon watching the exchange of cargo. Morrison had been
just the Yankee trader Jonah had expected him to be, but Jonah had garnered a
concession or two. Unfortunately, one of the least pleasant of the points to Morrison was
approaching now.

The widow, Mrs. Shore, wore dead black from head to toes. She made her way across the
chaos of the wharf without looking to either side. She must own an uncanny sense of the
path of least resistance or the men naturally stepped out of her way in deference to her
sex and status.

Damnation, a female on board boded ill. His first mate had railed against it, the men had
grumbled, but it was a done deal.

At that moment, she glanced up at him. Her gaze pinned him, her sea-green eyes shone
bright with humor. Somehow he knew that she knew exactly how he felt about her
coming on board.

Damnation. He ground his teeth and returned to his cabin to double check the manifest
and update the log. His first mate could do the lady the honor of escorting her to her
cabin.

They got underway without incident. Once they were out of the harbor, Jonah sensed the
deep blue depths that rolled beneath the ship. His body adjusted to the sway and roll

without him having to think about it. He and Charles, his first mate, took a sighting and
set their course for the Caribbean. It would take ten days to two weeks, depending on the
winds and the waves. Jonah had what his men considered an uncanny knack of knowing
just how those two dynamics of the sea worked.

“Have you drilled the new men?” he asked Charles.

“Not yet, sir. I wondered if you wanted our passenger to participate.”

“That woman? What would she know of the sea? Bah.”

“Then you’re expecting smooth sailing, sir?”

“I always do.”

With that, Charles left the wheel and took the newest of the crew aside to show them and
have them practice drills that would help them save themselves in the unlikely event of a
wreck at sea.

Jonah turned towards his cabin. From the other end of the ship a ruffle of black caught his
eye. The woman had come up on deck. She stood uncertainly before moving carefully
around the equipment and men until she reached the starboard railing. If she didn’t mind
the coarseness of his sailors then he hoped the sailors didn’t mind her presence either.
Bad luck or not, she was here to stay.

At that moment she looked up and stared at him. Her bold gaze and proud chin
challenged him.

Damnation, why had he ever agreed to have a woman on board?

Marianne watched the captain turn and go through a door. It had been made more than
clear to her that she was an unwanted passenger. Mr. Morrison had said so rather bluntly
and the mate, Mr. Charles, had made mention of the crew’s misgivings in a more
mannerly way when she’d come onboard.

At least I didn’t bring a maid with me, she thought. Two women would probably cause
them to mutiny.

She smiled at the thought. Her in-laws would have insisted she bring a female
companion, if only for the sake of propriety. That dimmed her smile a bit. The meeting
with Silas’ parents two days ago had been just as painful and impersonal as she’d
imagined it could be. When she’d told them her plans to return to Jamaica, neither of
them had begged her to stay. She imagined a chagrined “good riddance” in their final
goodbyes. After that she’d focused on packing and awaiting news of the Whelp ’s return.

At least that had been good news. The ship had finally turned a profit, and a hefty one at
that. Marianne could return home as a well-off widow, not a poor relation. She made
arrangements for her funds to be sent to Kingstown and had sent her trunks to the
Poseidon

. The only sad good-byes were to Mrs. McCann and to Mrs. Nelson. She was

glad she’d been able to find them both employment.

The bustle of the ship went on behind her. It wasn’t as if she was trying to ignore it, it just
didn’t seem to have much to do with her at this time. She watched the sparkle of the sun
on the waves and inhaled deeply of the freshness of the northern sea.

Her home had been in the hills of Jamaica, the ocean visible but distant. It had called to
her as a child. She’d begged to be allowed to visit it. Her papa, who shared her sea-green
eyes, finally allowed a visit. Her nanny had strict orders to keep Marianne dry, but the
child had been too fascinated to heed the woman’s calls. She’d plunged into the waves
wide eyed. She swam as if made for the water, and when they finally were able to pull
her out, she remembered crying for hours.

That had been her one and only trip to the beach as a child. When she’d grown, she’d met
Silas in Kingstown and sailed on his ship back to Nantucket without ever again feeling
the silky coolness of the sea on her body.

Sometimes she dreamed about it, though.

The slap of the waves against the boat and the cry of the gulls lulled Marianne into a
semblance of peace. When at last she turned back to her tiny cabin, it was with a happier
heart. She was returning home a woman in charge of herself. She had the means to live
alone if she wanted to, or to live with her lonely papa in the hills. At that moment she
decided she would buy a small house on the beach where she could indulge her longing
in privacy.

That first night aboard, a sailor brought Marianne a tray of food.

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “I thought the captain might invite me to dine with him.”

The man averted his eyes as he set the tray on the only flat surface, her bunk. “No,
ma’am. The captain don’t dine with no one, especially not with ladies.”

“I see. Well, would you send him my regards anyway,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be back in a bit for the plates.” He backed out of the small chamber.

Odd, Marianne thought. Silas had enjoyed the occasional visitor to the Whelp . Not that a
whaling ship carried many passengers, it was a business ship after all, but he’d done
occasional favors for the shipping company. Perhaps Captain McAdams was unused to
women. Many sea-going men were, not having the opportunities to learn about the fairer
sex.

In any case, she assured herself, it would certainly be improper to dine with a man alone.
It would be a long voyage; there was time to know the man.

The next two days were cloudy and wet. The sea, like a sullen child, pushed the Poseidon
in the opposite direction from their heading. The winds gusted in unusual ways,
according to the grumbling Marianne could glean from the crew when she made her daily
way onto the deck.

Though the crew seemed to be getting used to seeing Marianne, she’d been unable to get
more out of any of them except for a growled, “Good day, ma’am.” Even Mr. Charles
hurried his greetings, always busy, always with something to do. Marianne had never
been one to sit around idle. Her books did not intrigue her as they generally did. Her
knitting and crocheting were nothing more than games to keep her hands busy. In short,
she was lonely and bored, and didn’t much like herself for either feeling.

On the third day, the sun rose in a clear sky. After Marianne broke her fast, alone again in
her cabin, she made her way onto the deck. The fresh sea breeze blew away the dullness
of the past two days. She removed her bonnet so that her whole head could enjoy a bit of
freedom. Her unruly curls whipped about her face as they escaped their neat knot.

She dearly wished that she could rip away the dark mourning clothes as easily and
replace them with something less somber. But in fact she was in mourning and would
remain so for the better part of a year. Even in Jamaica she’d be expected to abide by
such rules as society restricted women with.

For a moment she railed against the unfairness of it, then she remembered that Silas was
dead and she should be grateful. Not for his death, he had not been a bad man, but rather
because of it she now owned a measure of freedom that had been denied her as an
unmarried young woman. Freedom that now extended to making her own decisions with
her own money.

Confused feelings of elation and sadness warred within her. Yet, the sadness could not
hold sway on such a glorious day. As if to push the last remnant away, Marianne caught
sight of a pod of dolphins that took its place directly below her in the wash from the
prow.

“Oh!” They moved with such grace and abandon. She leaned over the rail to get a better
look, and laughed when one of them leaped from the water and the spray of its return
wetted her face.

Mr. Charles moved to the rail next to her. “Dolphins are a sign of good luck, Mrs. Shore.
The men will be happy that they are escorting us.”

“Escorting us? They are just fish of the sea, Mr. Charles.”

“Perhaps, but many a sea faring man owes his life to such fishes.” He stiffened.
“Captain,” he said and moved away.

The hairs on the back of Marianne’s neck tingled. She pulled her blowing hair until it was
under control again then stuffed it under her bonnet before turning around.

Captain McAdams didn’t look at her. His attention was focused on the dolphins who
chattered in the sea below. Marianne also glanced down. If she didn’t know better, she’d
think they were saying something to him.

For a brief second, she imagined she actually heard words from the large beast that was
staring up at the ship. She shook her head. Such fancies, she’d had many as a child, but
she was grown now and such things were fairy tales at best. Talking dolphins, really.

She turned her attention to the man standing beside her, actually towering beside her. He
must be over six feet tall. With his broad shoulders and commanding presence she could
see why he was a captain. He wore no hat against the breeze, his bald head shone faintly
in the sun. She had an odd desire to reach out and stroke it. The very thought brought
warmth to her cheeks just as he turned to look at her. His eyes, sea green like hers, gave
away nothing. They showed cool depths with a hint of interest that she could only guess
at. Their regard caused more warmth, but this time it pooled lower down and deep inside.

Even Silas had never been able to make her feel like this.

She stared back at the man as she tried to ignore the way her traitorous body felt. A taut
silence hung between them. When she thought she must speak or drown in his eyes, he
nodded to her and turned away.

All she could do was stare at his back as he strode across the deck, and fume. He hadn’t
even introduced himself. Clearly his manners were the same as those of his men, with the
noted exception of Mr. Charles, she amended in an effort to be fair.

Captain McAdams stayed on deck for a while. He stopped to talk to the sailors and to
exchange words with Mr. Charles. She observed the deference with which each of the
men spoke to him. There was an underlying current of something else, more than the
expected respect with which someone interacted with their betters, she thought. What was
it?

The answer came as she watched a man who was coiling a rope jerk and step back when
the captain took him unawares.

They were afraid of him.

She narrowed her eyes and took note of the rest of the crews’ reactions. With the
exception of Mr. Charles, who was an educated man, each sailor put more than the
expected distance between himself and the captain. Nobody cringed, she noted. Nobody

shook or grimaced in any way, but still, the air of fear or even … distaste remained in her
observations.

What was it about Captain McAdams that caused the men to feel that way? This was a
merchant ship, not a whaling vessel or a naval ship. The men were not constrained to
remain aboard. If they didn’t like the way the captain ran his ship, all they had to do was
to leave at the next port. Yet she’d heard that men jumped at the chance to sail with this
captain. He had a reputation for fairness and courage and an uncanny sense of the sea.

It was quite curious.

Marianne decided that it was much too nice a day to stay in her tiny cabin below decks.
She went down only to find her bag of knitting and her diary and a piece of charcoal for
drawing. It was the first time in a very long time that she had leisure to sit and enjoy
pursuits other than those of a whaling captain’s wife. She’d sketch scenes from the ship
into her diary to create a pictorial record of her journey.

She found a box that was fairly out of the way, and settled in to watch and sketch and
daydream a bit. The daydreams took the form of the bald headed captain and his
remarkable eyes. When she examined her diary after a couple of hours, she found that
she’d made any number of sketches of the same man.

She dropped the charcoal and slapped her book shut. It was a good thing he was keeping
his distance. This voyage was turning out to be more disturbing than she’d ever imagined
it could.

Chapter Three

Jonah felt her gaze on him as he made his way around the ship. It was like a caress. It
tugged at him, urged him to return to her. He would not.

He walked the ship daily, talking to the men, checking on their living conditions and the
condition of the ship. He knew that Charles was a competent first mate, but it was
Jonah’s ship and Jonah’s responsibility. He took neither lightly. The responsibility to his
one passenger weighed on him briefly. If she had to, could she swim? Doubtful, most
well brought up ladies would prefer to sink rather than remove their heavy, restrictive
clothing in order to be more buoyant.

He found himself staring at her. She sat on a coiled rope on top of a box. In one of her
hands was a book of some sort, in the other hand a writing implement. Every now and
then she would raise her head, look around, and then go back to whatever she was writing
in her book.

Jonah watched how her ebony curls peeped from under the somber bonnet. He ached to
yank the ugly hat from her head and run his hands through her hair until it ran like dark
fire in the wind.

No, that would not do. He could not afford the mesmerizing effects this human had on
him. By the whale, he was half aroused just thinking about her. He thought of the warmth
she’d exuded as she stood next to him at the rail, the way the wind molded her dress to
her form, making it very clear that she was full bosomed and long limbed. The color of
her eyes had him wondering about who she really was. He’d never yet met a human, male
or female, with eyes the color of his own people.

He rubbed a hand over his smooth head and turned his attention to the foremast, anything
to bring his gaze away from the picture of temptation on his deck. A youngster Charles
had hired in Nantucket was sitting on the topmost spar keeping watch. They didn’t watch
for whales blowing on this ship, rather the eye was kept for other ships that flew a rogue
flag. Jonah had some mastery over wind and waves, but pirates, though no longer a huge
threat, were still about nonetheless.

The deck was scrubbed, the gear stowed, Charles had the bearings and the wheel was
under control. There was no reason for Jonah to remain on deck. He had work in his
cabin to see to. He had the dolphin’s message to ponder. There were myriad duties that
awaited him.

He eyed Mrs. Shore once more. Her head came up and her gaze met his at the same time.
Her hands stilled at their work. Long moments passed as they stared at each other from
opposite ends of the ship.

He saw warmth creeping in a telltale blush up her cheeks just before she ducked her head
back down. There was more than curiosity in her gaze, he warranted, just as there was
more than idle interest in his. She was attractive, more than attractive. She shone like the
finest mother of pearl, glowed like tropical corals in a bright sunlit day.

Damnation, he was attracted to her without her even trying. He left the deck.

Sitting at his desk in his sparse cabin, he turned his attention to the message of the
dolphin elder. Dolphins often cavorted around the Poseidon . They knew they had
nothing to fear from humans when Jonah was in command of a vessel. Whales knew too
and could often be seen in large groups, their young safe with their mothers nearby.

Though Jonah and his people ate fish and squid and other sea creatures, to harm these
large sentient beings would be a crime in their world. Jonah felt an obligation to keep
them safe when he rode on top of the waves.

He stared out the portholes and considered. His time in the world of men was almost
over. He must return home before the moon was full again, or never return at all. His
father, the king, was anxious for Jonah to marry and fulfill his duties to the throne.
Though the Mer people were long-lived as compared to human lifetimes, they did have
finite lives. Dynasties depended upon princes like Jonah to propagate and secure the
throne.

Duty, he thought. He’d been lucky to be born a prince. Lucky because he was allowed to
indulge his curious nature as others in his kingdom could not. Not that many of them
wanted to, he admitted. All his life he’d been different. His curiosity about what
happened above the waves was not unheard of, but to the extent that it occupied his mind,
that was the difference.

He’d been enthralled by the tale of Ellyra, a mermaid who was said to have lived in the
world of men. Once she returned to the sea she’d aged rapidly and one day had swum
into an abyss, never to return. But her tales of bright sunlight on deep green trees, of
houses and of people who walked on two appendages, and mostly of the strong emotions
these people felt and acted upon had drawn him.

He’d been allowed to spend time above the waves, with two appendages–-legs–-to walk
upon the land and feel sand between his toes. The magic that was part of him, strong
because of his royal birth, gave him some mastery over his destiny, but it was limited. He
could transform into a human, but if he was submerged in the sea he immediately lost his
legs to a tail, his lungs would breathe water as if it was air, and the vestiges of webbing
between his fingers became fuller enabling him to swim and pivot like a fish. If a human
saw him, he’d be done with his sojourn above the waves. When he came ashore in his
Mer form, a word of magic would change him back to human form but at the risk of great
pain. In all his years of walking upright, he’d only had to do that once.

He’d lived among these humans for almost fifty years, never aging, always moving from
port to port. He’d learned about anger and lust and pity. Though he’d been unable to feel
more than a sense of comfort or irritation, he was grateful for the time granted him to
experience this different life.

The one emotion he’d heard about and was truly glad he could not experience was love.
It seemed that one emotion was surely too strong. It compelled men and women to
actions both mad and sublime. How could anyone control such a thing that would cause a
man to betray his best friend, or a woman to leave all she knew behind simply because
she loved a man? Such emotions and actions were inconceivable to him and to all of his
race.

His people had become complacent, in his mind, of all that they knew. They possessed no
interest in learning new things. They had no desire to see what was above the crest of the
wave or beyond the shore. At most, they would dare each other to sing sailors to their
dooms on rocky outcroppings along coastlines.

They did not love with the same passion as these humans.

The concept of love intrigued him so much that he studied it above all other emotions.
Sometimes he envied these humans their love. Much good came from it, as did an
overdose of pain and sadness. How could they live with such strength of emotions, he
often wondered?

Well, his time to study these humans was almost over. What should he do with the
Poseidon

and the small accumulation of wealth that he had secured over the years? It was

laughable to consider taking it with him. Such treasure as humans hoarded was worthless
beneath the sea.

A vision of black hair and green eyes came to him. Mrs. Shore was a treasure that would
be admired by his friends and relatives in Mer, if she were a mermaid, that is. The
impossibility of such a thing brought a smile to his lips and that made him think of her
lips, rosy as an anemone. He hadn’t seen her laugh and wondered if her teeth were white
and smooth like the pearls. Was she warm to touch? Did she know passion?

Back to her again. He shook his head and pulled his log, a quill, and the ink pot closer to
him. Work, ponder, and stop thinking about that woman. Thinking of her would distract
him from the very important task of considering his bride.

Damnation.

* * * *

The longer Captain McAdams stayed on deck, the more her eyes sought him out. His
gaze left her warm and slightly breathless. She wished she could shuck the cruel tightness
of her corset. The captain’s stare had her wondering about him. Was he married or was he
the type that had a woman in every port? Though Silas had tried to keep her from hearing
such things, she knew that many sailing men had a randy nature. After weeks or months
at sea she imagined that any woman looked good.

It was naughty to think such things. Here she was, a newly widowed matron of twenty
and five, much too old to be dreaming girlish dreams.

Still, here she was a widow. It left her free to pursue interests that were not acceptable in
an innocent girl.

Would she take a lover, she wondered? At that moment she looked up and discovered
Captain McAdams staring at her. Their gazes locked for an unknown period of time. She
felt the heat of his eyes and longed to be held in the safety of his strong arms. Her cheeks
warmed and she averted her eyes, hoping he hadn’t seen her physical reaction to him.
The blush was one thing, the way her breasts tightened and grew heavy, and the pooling
of warmth in her nether regions were invisible–-she hoped. And glad she was that she
was sitting down because she feared that her legs would give way with the trembling that
came upon her thighs.

She tried to focus on the page before her. The charcoal had formed a likeness of the
captain, legs braced apart, arms akimbo, chin high. His arrogance and strength were
evident.

Disturbed by her thoughts and actions, Marianne turned to a fresh page and held her
charcoal so that she could write instead of draw. A list, perhaps if she made a list of the
possibilities now open to her it would help her figure out what she wanted. She’d only
written a brief note to her father that she was coming home; the bank had sent it with her
profits from the Whelp ’s voyage. She wondered if the letter would arrive before she did.
It mattered not. After her mother had died when Marianne was a child, she and her father
had been close. Though there had been strain a time or two, she longed to see him again.

She sat in her daydreams much of the day. One of the seamen brought her a tray at
luncheon and she ate it where she sat. In the stretch of afternoon, after the captain had left
the deck thus freeing her from her spot, she strolled around the ship trying to stay out of
the way but speaking to any man who met her eyes. As the sun slipped into the western
sea and the light breeze turned cold, she knew more of the men by name and thought
she’d helped them realize that she was not a danger to them, as if merely being female
was a danger.

Her cabin felt all the more snug after the day on deck, but the hours of fresh air and
exercise made it easy for her to fall into a dreamless slumber.

She awoke when a violent motion tossed her from her bunk. Water sloshed around her
feet when she stood. It soaked the hem of her nightgown. Darkness was an entity, that
and the roaring sounds around her and the ship pitching under her feet brought terror to
her. Her heart thudded hard and fast in her chest as she tried to think of what she should
do. Dying at sea--without ever experiencing all the options now available to her, never
experiencing the passion and freedom she craved–-dying at sea was not an option.

She recalled the flat voice of the sly boy who’d brought her the first news of Silas’ death.
Washed overboard, lost at sea.

No, she would not suffer that fate. She grabbed onto the edge of her bunk and allowed
her eyes to adjust to the blackness. It was not wholly dark, there was enough light to see
that the door of her chamber had come ajar. Should she go up on deck and find out what
was happening?

The shouting of voices reached her ears as she stumbled to the doorway and hung onto
the jamb. To her left she could make out the shape of the companionway that went up to
the deck. It was awash. As she watched, a cascade of sea water rushed down. A spar and
a coil of rope came down with the next pitching and rolling of the ship.

She’d never suffered from mal de mer during the few journeys she’d made by water, but
the jerking, sinking, and lifting of the ship had her stomach churning with nausea. She
focused on the items bobbing in the water on the floor. Just as she reached her hand out
for the spar--it would hold her above the water if she needed to go into the sea--Mr.
Charles stumbled down the stairway.

“Get back into your cabin, Mrs. Shore,” he told her, wild eyed and panting.

“What’s happening?”

“A gale, it came upon us that fast, it did. I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said. He
tumbled against Marianne as the ship tossed again. “Never fear, madam, Captain
McAdams is the luckiest captain on these waters. He’s never lost a vessel or a member of
his crew. I don’t reckon he will this time either.”

Marianne nodded but didn’t let go her hold on the doorway. “Thank you for checking on
me.”

He tottered back up to the deck and closed the hatch after he climbed out. The sounds
diminished a bit after that, but the movement of the ship grew more violent. Marianne’s
teeth chattered. She turned back into her chamber for a shawl when she heard the ship
groan.

That can’t be good, she thought.

The groaning turned into a shrieking and snapping as she felt the ship lifted up. She
imagined the wave that must be carrying them to great heights and she looked for
something stronger to hold onto. The trip down the other side of the wave would be swift
and violent.

She felt the deck drop away from her feet. A sense of weightlessness rested in her. Her
head struck against the ceiling and a crack that sounded like thunder reverberated through
the wood around her.

Then she was falling, falling into darkness. She hit the deck and was rolled over and over
until she stopped against something hard, her bunk perhaps. The violent motion had
lessened. She sat up and looked around. Her stomach cramped and her head felt light
when she saw that nothing was on the other side of her door but the open sea. In the glow
of a far off lightning bolt she saw what looked like the other half of the ship bobbing on
the waves.

She rubbed her eyes. This couldn’t be happening.

But it was, she could either sink or swim and she wasn’t ready to just give up. She
reached around her, searching for something, anything that would buoy her up, at least
give her a chance for life. Surely one of the men would look for her.

They’d thought she was bad luck. Maybe they had been right. She fought against the
desire to weep and continued to search. There was nothing. Anything buoyant had
already been carried away.

I will not go down crying, she thought. But she was alone in the dark on the sea and she
was afraid.

“Help,” she shouted. There was no help for her.

She watched helplessly as the crest of a huge wave built and plummeted towards her. She
screamed as it hit what was left of her little cabin. Salt water filled her mouth, her eyes.
She clawed at it, trying to get clear of the room that had been a tiny sanctuary. Something
bumped her on the head. Her ears rang as she struggled for the surface. Lungs burning,
arms aching, she reached and kicked and finally was too exhausted to go on.

This is it, she thought. She looked at the dark sea that engulfed her. Her hair floated
around and above her. Her mouth opened as she let go the last of her breath in tiny
bubbles.

As she faded she saw something swimming towards her. Great, it’s not bad enough that I
drown, she thought, now something’s going to eat me.

But it wasn’t a something. It was Captain McAdams. His bald head was unforgettable
and his green eyes glowed as he swam swifter than a dolphin to her.

She felt his strong arms surround her just before everything went dark.

Chapter Four

The unnatural swiftness and intensity of the gale caught Jonah off guard. The dolphins
should have warned him that this was on the way. They always did. The eerie echoing of
the thunder and the wind made him think that someone or something had sent this to him
for a purpose. But he had no time to consider what that purpose might be. His
responsibility was to his crew and to his cargo. The violence of the storm had him give
the hands the signal to find a cask or piece of wood to grab onto. Just as he did so, the
ship cracked apart.

Rain lashed at his face as Jonah watched the ship split in two. A scream carried over the
tearing sound. Mrs. Shore, the passenger that he had not wanted on board and the one
soul aboard who had not drilled for such an emergency.

He cursed as he took stock of the situation. The crew and Charles were as safe as any
mortal could be under such circumstances. In a flash of lightning he saw a white figure
straining to hold onto the other half of the ship. He leaped into the waves and
immediately felt the transformation back to his native shape. His two legs ripped apart
the fabric of his trousers as they melded into a strong, muscular tail. His feet became fins
and his lungs filled with the water that gave him life.

The freedom of the sea called to him. He could answer in an instant and leave the
struggles of his shipmates behind. A flash of white began a descent in front of him. The
female. The sense of duty that defined him made him swim to her. He felt the last of her
strength leave her body as he grabbed her and swam for the surface. She coughed as the
slap of cool air hit her face. He felt her breathe in gasping mouthfuls of air as she spit out

water. His tail undulated beneath them as he kept her head above the surface of the
roiling sea.

Jonah’s keen hearing brought the sounds of his crew to him. From their voices he could
tell that all had found something safe to hold onto until they could be rescued. He sent a
vibration message to the nearest dolphin pod to encircle the men and keep them safe from
predators of the sea. He sensed, from far off echoes of whales, that a ship was headed in
this direction and would reach his men by morning.

As for him and his passenger, the sea current was warm where they floated but it
separated them swiftly from the others. He saw no reason to chance her safety in the
darkness. Even so, he knew that land was what she needed. He thought of the islands and
shoals in these waters and wondered how far the storm had sent them off course. He’d
been asleep when it hit. They’d been making way southerly, in good time and off the
coast of Georgia. He kept his sea senses open to anything that might bring him news.

He held her body snug against his and marveled at its continued warmth. Most humans
lost heat quickly even in the mildest water. Her soft roundness fit against him intimately.
He was aware of her as a female and felt the heat of arousal course through him. Her hair
floated around them and clung like seaweed as her gown swayed and caressed his body
below the water.

Through the long night he cradled her as the waters became more tropical. At last the sun
began its slow ascent into the heavens and Jonah spied a spit of land in the distance. He
turned the woman onto her back. Her lips, plump and inviting, tempted him as did the
softness of her breasts and the length of her legs, but he ignored what he wanted and
swam for the shore.

It was but an island with a small forest well back from the beach. It would do. He
struggled to move her above the high tide line, flopping and pushing in the form that was
ungainly out of the water. When he was sure she was as safe as he could make her, he
braced himself for pain. He couldn’t abandon her here; he’d have to stay with her until he
could affect a rescue. And to stay with her, he had to transform back into a human.

He spoke the word of magic and experienced the white sharp pain. He was aware of the
warming sun and of the woman who started to move, then the pain took him and he knew
no more.

* * * *

Marianne woke to warm sun on her face. A keen of pain so powerful it had to be the
remnant of nightmare filled her ears. She rubbed her gritty eyes and spat sand out of her
mouth as she sat up and looked around. She remembered the ship falling apart and then
she’d fallen into the sea.

She stretched like a cat, glad that the nightmare of noise and movement had stopped. Her
hands touched sand. That wasn’t right. She opened her eyes and sat up. It was sand, sand
all around her. Soft, warm, with the consistency of fine white sugar. She scooped a
handful up and let it run through her fingers as she stared at her surroundings. Maybe it
hadn’t been a dream.

She saw a mound of something dark nearby, huddled just above the lapping waves. The
bright glare of the sun made it hard to focus. Was it man or animal or just a pile of
washed up debris? She wasn’t sure but knew she had to find out. If it was a man, she
hoped he was alive.

Her unsteady legs gained strength as she walked and she was glad it only required a step
or two. The damp nightdress hugged her legs making movement difficult. She leaned
over the lump that now took the shape of a man. The bald pate identified him as the
captain and she remembered what must have been a hallucination brought on by the fear
of drowning. She thought she had seen him swimming towards her like a fish just before
she’d lost consciousness. Now she knew that she had seen him, but certainly not
swimming like a fish.

He was face down in the sand. She hesitated then rolled him over.

Oh dear. She poked at him. “Captain McAdams, are you dead?”

A nervous giggle escaped her lips. Idiocy did not become her. Giddy and lightheaded, she
thumped to the sand next to the man. She saw his chest move up and down and was
relieved that he lived. His clothes were in an awful shape, the trousers looked like the
legs had split open completely.

Sand pitted his face, but she could see no wound or injury that was responsible for his
unconscious state. Pity for him moved her. He’d surely risked his life to save hers. The
sea tumbled gently a few feet away in remarkably gentle contrast to the beast it had been
in the night. She walked to it and dipped the hem of her night dress to wet it, spending a
brief moment relishing the feeling of water cooling her feet and the texture of the firm but
wet sand beneath her toes. The ache to throw herself into it and swim entered her, much
as she remembered from the only visit to the beach as a child.

She turned away from the lure of the waves and knelt beside Captain McAdams. With a
soft touch she used the wet cloth to wipe sand out of his eyes and away from his nostrils
and mouth. As she did, she examined his face in a way she’d been unable to before. The
brow was wide and smooth, as if he’d never frowned or scowled. This made her smile as
she had seen him do both and in her direction, though he’d been ever so patient with the
crew.

He had no eyebrows and she wondered if he’d ever had hair. This might be her only
opportunity to touch his head and she put out a hesitant hand to run it across his pate. The
skin was soft, no hair stubble remained, just a faint indentation like a pattern on his skin.

She tingled at her forwardness, glad that he didn’t know that she took such liberties with
him. It was not a thing a lady should do, not whatsoever.

His cheekbones, high and sharp, gave his face an exotic cast. The nose, aquiline and
strong above a mouth chiseled by whatever life had brought to him. A mouth such as his
should be hard and harsh, Marianne thought, but when she touched his lips, they were
soft and warm. She leaned in and inhaled the scent of the sea that was on him. That was
when she noticed he was reddening.

“Oh no,” she said. With such fair skin he’d burn quickly. The sun grew hotter. She had to
get him into some shade and find him something to drink, poor man.

She placed her hands under his shoulders. This aspect gave her a view of the length of his
body. The sight of his bare legs, long, lean, and muscular, showing from the remnants of
torn trousers made her stare. She was glad he was not awake to see her interest in his
limbs; it was quite unseemly that she did so. It was bad enough that she’d already
touched his head. But he was so well formed in his lower limbs that she couldn’t help but
wonder if he was just as well formed elsewhere.

A gull screamed and shook her from her reverie. She managed to get both of her hands
under his shoulders. Though tattered, his shirt hid the musculature encompassed by the
breadth of his wide shoulders. She pulled, but he was no lightweight and she was
exhausted from surviving a shipwreck.

It took many tries to get him somewhat under the shade of the sparse trees. She was
sweating and shaking by the time she made it. No doubt he’d incurred a few scrapes over
the small shells or stones in their path. The indentation in the sand showed how far she’d
had to move him, but at least he was out of the most intense sunlight.

Marianne put up a hand to shade her eyes and scanned the horizon. All she saw in all
directions was the limitless blue of the waves. No mast or sail broke the clean horizon.
Once she was able to make Captain McAdams more comfortable, she’d take a look
around. Perhaps they were just on a spit of land near a large town. The thought lifted her
spirits.

Until then, she’d see if she could find some fresh water. Her exertions had left her
parched and she hated to think how thirsty the captain would be once he awoke. She
glanced at his form, as unmoving as when she’d found him. A flicker of unease touched
her as she wondered if he would ever wake up, then her natural optimism came back. Of
course he would.

She pulled a large fan shaped leaf from a nearby bush and propped it so it would cover
his face should she still be gone when he awoke. Then she turned her attention to the
edge of the forest. She was sure she’d heard a quiet gurgle somewhere nearby that had
nothing to do with the ocean. Skirting the low growing bushes, she followed the sound
until the cool darkness surrounded her.

* * * *

He dreamed of creamy skinned sea maidens with long dark hair. Their tails wrapped
around him with languid heat. Their voices sang in his ears, arousing him with the words
and the touch of bubbles along the sensitive ridges of his neck. Warmth engulfed him as
lust caused a flame in his groin. Then he was hot, heated unpleasantly. Desire fled with
the feeling of flames licking at his body. He couldn’t breathe; there was no water, no life.

A cold splash hit his face and he awoke. No sex-starved mermaids revolved around him.
Instead his eyes beheld a creature with two legs clothed in transparent white. Her dark
hair curled to her waist and gleamed with blue highlights. A slight frown marred the brow
between her wide-set green eyes.

“Are you all right?” the vision asked.

He knew her, but he just couldn’t place her. He motioned her closer.

She knelt beside him, her breasts heavy against the wet fabric, the nipples hard and
thrusting towards him. When she next spoke, her lips, pouty and pink, moved slowly as if
she were talking to a nursling not to the Prince of the Sea.

“Captain, would you like more water?”

She put out a hand to touch his face. He grabbed it and pulled her so that she tumbled
across him. Every instinct told him that this female was his, for him. He trusted his
instincts; they’d saved his life more than once in this strange world above the water. So
he reached with both arms until she lay across him. He had to taste her mouth. He was
sure his life depended on it.

She struggled briefly. When he finally had a taste of her he knew he’d never have
enough. She was high tide and tsunami and warm ocean currents all rolled into one
delicious package. Jonah deepened his kiss, felt his erection throb, and knew he would
have her–-“Stop.” She shoved away from him.

When he reached for her again she slapped his hands away. Confusion suffused him until
her next words.

“I see that you’re well awake, Captain McAdams. I’ll ask you to keep your hands off me
from now on.”

Memory returned. He groaned. Damnation, he’d been carrying out his lusty desires with
Mrs. Shore, his unlucky passenger. Rather, he’d tried to carry out his lusty desires. He sat
and rolled his muscles as he considered what had not just happened. Human females were
unable to resist him. It was a fact. Yet this one had.

She stood, arms akimbo, a dolphin’s length from him, her eyes glinting like an angry
storm.

“I thank you for swimming to my rescue last night, but that gives you no right to paw me
in such a way,” she stated flatly, but he saw how her bosom heaved and her cheeks
remained flushed.

She was not unaffected by his kiss.

“I was unaware of what I was doing, Mrs. Shore.” Dizziness assailed him as he tried to
stand. He blinked and saw the fallen leaf with droplets of water. “Did you find fresh
water?”

“Yes, a few yards into the woods, a stream runs from a small spring.”

He rose to his feet, swayed a bit then stood firm. She had come closer but remained more
than an arm’s distance away.

“Is there nothing better than a leaf to carry water?” he asked looking around the beach
and the nearby edge of the wood.

“I was in a hurry. You were so hot and I just wanted to cool you. That was the best I
could do.” Now her arms were crossed over her chest, her voice low.

The sun shone behind her through the thin layer of cloth. The sweet curves of her body
were outlined like a statue but he knew how softly rounded they were. Jonah suppressed a
groan and wished he could dive into the cool ocean to drive away the desire that kept
piercing him at unexpected intervals. Thus was the case after he transformed into human
form, the need to bury himself in a woman. When it had been necessary before there’d
been a willing lass from a tavern. This time, all that was available to him was a lady for
whom he felt a measure of responsibility.

He stood and focused on the discomfort that touched other parts of his body. His trousers
had torn at the seams when he’d hit the water last night. They hung in tatters now but
there was naught that could be done for that. The burn of scraped flesh on his legs had
him pulling the cloth away to look. Several long gashes showed against his pale skin.

“Oh,” Marianne gasped. She’d turned her head away by the time he looked up at her.

“I didn’t realize you were injured,” she said, keeping a hand up to her eyes.

Jonah grinned. Apparently the sight of a man’s bare legs discomforted the lady. “I thank
you for pulling me away from the tide. These scratches are nothing.” He let the fabric
swing back across his legs. “You can look now.”

Her cheeks flamed pink but she took her hand away. “We should get more water to bathe
those wounds,” she said. “It’s this way.” She turned towards the woods but stumbled and
limped before she went three paces.

“Hold up.” Jonah walked to her and looked at her feet. They were red. “Sit,” he ordered.

She sank to the sand, pulling her gown over her knees and tugging it as far down her legs
as she could manage. When Jonah took one of her feet in his hands, she gasped again. He
glanced at the sole and saw scratches and cuts from where she’d stepped on sticks or
rocks or shells. It must hurt like the dickens. When he glanced at her face she had her
lower lip between her teeth, her eyes huge.

“You sustained injuries, too, Mrs. Shore. Let me try to fashion some protection for these
dainty feet before we go wandering into the bush.”

She nodded. He lowered her foot to the ground but couldn’t bring himself to let it go right
away. It was delicately shaped with a high arch and toes shaped like sea petals. He
stroked it and her toes splayed as she tried to pull away. He held tighter when he saw
tiny, vestigial extensions of skin between her toes. It reminded him of the slight webbing
between his digits when in human form. He enjoyed the feel of her skin in his hands, the
tugging just made him want to hold on longer, but he finally let her go.

“You must not touch me in such a manner,” her breathless voice said.

Jonah rocked back on his heels and watched her cover her legs again. “In what manner
would that be?”

“That, touching my feet like that. It’s quite improper.” She pursed her lips.

“More improper than kissing you?” His body tightened.

She drew herself up as straight as she could in her position. “I expect you to treat me with
the same respect that you would if we were on ship, Captain McAdams.”

“Madam, we are on a deserted island. I ascertained that before we reached shore last
night. In order to survive we’ll have to work together and respect each other.”

She frowned. “How do you know this is an island? I had planned to walk around the
beach in a bit, after I knew you were going to be all right, to see if I could find a
settlement of some type.”

“You forget, I know these waters like I have a chart in my head. The current pulled us far
from the shore of the mainland. I assure you, this is an island. And the last I knew of it,
no humans had settled here.”

“So we are truly marooned?”

“So it would seem.”

“That is quite unacceptable.”

“Yes.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

He laughed. “Didn’t you hear me say we were in this together? What are we going to do
about it?”

She gnawed on her lower lip again. He sensed that her imperious attitude hid an
underlying current of fear but he admired the way that she kept it from breaking forth.
Hysterical females were anathema to him.

“We need a plan,” she said after a while.

“Why don’t we start with protecting our feet and finding that little spring of yours? I’m
sure you are quite as thirsty as I.”

“Yes,” she said. “Water first, then shelter, then perhaps we can think of a way to catch a
fish.”

He reached to help her stand. Her cool stare before she put her hand in his served as a
reminder that he shouldn’t become too familiar with her. He grinned as he tugged her to
stand next to him. Curiosity overcame him. He looked at her tiny hand, spread her
fingers. There, again, the faintest of signs of webbing between the fingers.

Just who was this woman?

Chapter Five

From strips of bark and slender vines Jonah managed to fashion protection for their feet
so that they could go to and from the little spring. Using broad leaves they managed to
scoop enough fresh water to slake their thirst. Marianne rubbed her face vigorously with
the tepid moisture, glad for even the hint of refreshment and cooling of her cheeks.

Her nightgown had finally dried but she couldn’t forget the way Jonah had stared at her
when he’d just awoken, to say nothing of the strength of his arms and the tenderness of
his kiss.

That she was attracted to him could no longer be denied. He wasn’t the enigmatic and
distant ship’s captain today. Today they were on more equal footing, both survivors of a
shipwreck with nothing more than the clothes on their backs.

Her stomach gurgled, reminding her that while water was necessary for life, food was
also required. She’d made a visual inspection of some of the plants growing in the forest,
having been taught by her nanny on Jamaica what roots and berries might be safe to eat.
There was one bush that looked like the same plant she knew of on her own island that
had edible roots. They had to be well roasted, she recalled, and they were tasteless, but
would fill the void in her belly. Unfortunately they weren’t yet far enough south for the
mangoes and papayas of her youth. Just thinking of the sweet juicy fruits made her mouth
water.

She surveyed the horizon again from the spot they had claimed as their camp where the
beach met the forest. Just the shimmering, ever changing movement of the sea met her
eyes. But the sea held bounty. If they could get a fire going….

“Do you think you could catch a fish?” she asked Captain McAdams.

He snorted from where he stood stripping leaves off another vine.

“Is that a yes or a no?” Marianne persisted.

“With my bare hands?”

“Of course not.” She looked around on the ground and spied a long, rather straight branch
of wood. “Here, we can use a stone to put a point on this. You could spear a fish.”

“Could I?” His green eyes stared into hers.

“The least you could do is try.”

He shook his head. “No, I will not go into the sea again.”

“Why not? You swam like one of those dolphins last night. Surely you aren’t afraid.”

“You saw me swimming last night?” His voice sharpened, his hands stilled.

“Yes. At least, well, it must have been you, mustn’t it? I mean.” She pulled a hand
through her unruly curls as she remembered. “I was sinking, almost giving up, but there
you were, swimming towards me quite quickly.” She didn’t mention his undulating
motion or the fact that she’d imagined a tail. After all, she had almost drowned. Her mind
must have tricked her into thinking she saw something that just couldn’t be.

“Just so,” Jonah said. “I wish I had as much faith in me as you do, madam. It was luck
that had me moored to a barrel and luck that had you go down close enough for me to
grab you. As for the rest, I’d just put it out of your mind. Sailors abhor swimming.”

“Yes.” Marianne tapped a finger against her lips. “What happened to the barrel?”

“What?”

“The barrel, you said you had grabbed hold of a barrel. Lucky for both of us or we would
not have made it this far. I did not see a barrel when I awoke. It would be handy to have,
don’t you think?”

“Aye, but I must have let go of it when the surf brought us onto the beach.”

Marianne ran her fingers through her hair again, divided it and began to plait it. That was
better, at least it wasn’t a tangled mess hanging down to her waist anymore, but she
wished for a comb or a brush. “Back to the matter of food.”

“I’ll not go swimming for fishes, madam. But I did spy mussels clinging to the lee of a
boulder down the beach. The tide is out and the shellfish can be eaten without cooking.”

“Ugh, no thanks. See if you can build a fire, not only will it cook the mussels, but will
serve as a beacon to any ships passing by.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She frowned at his impertinence. “I’ll gather some mussels and seaweed and see what
else I can find to eat.” She turned away, and then had a thought. “Do you know where we
are, besides on an island, that is?”

“I have given it some thought.”

“Care to share your thoughts?” She couldn’t help the sarcastic tone. At times the man
infuriated her.

“No, I don’t care to, but I will just the same. Look.” He smoothed the sand in front of him
and used a stick to make some lines that Marianne saw was a crude map.

“We made good time with a following sea and winds to send us racing against them for
three days. We would have been about here.” He put an X on the map.

“I know little of the coast of America,” Marianne admitted. “I grew up in Jamaica. I was
brought to Nantucket as a bride only two and a half years ago.”

He stared at her, opened his mouth as if to speak, and then put his attention back to the
sand. “Here is where the current has brought us, though I know of no island in this part of
the sea. I was headed for the mainland.”

“How could you know in which direction to swim? ‘Twas deep night with only the stars
for company.”

Humor sat in his eyes when he stared this time. “A good sailor needs only the stars to
steer by, madam. I am better than good.”

“If you are so good, then why didn’t you know about that tempest that hit us?” she shot
back.

“Why indeed?” He rubbed his head. At last he stood, brushing the map into oblivion with
a swift movement of his feet. “The tide has turned, madam. If you hope to pry those
mussels off the rock without another soaking, I suggest you make haste.”

Marianne shook free of her reverie and started down the beach again. “A fire, Captain
McAdams,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ll not eat raw mussels today.”

“Aye, aye,” she heard him say, followed by a low laugh that sent shivers up her spine.

Her fingers were raw by the time she’d pulled enough mussels from the rocks to make a
meal. They’d held tight to their anchor. It took longer than she thought it would. By the
time she filled her skirt the sea was lapping against her knees. She was soaked through
and hot and would give anything to take a dip in the cool waves.

That path led to danger, though. Her father always kept her as far from the sea as he
could because of her grandmother. From the small coffee plantation in the mountains
they had a view of the sea. Marianne remembered many hours sitting in the topmost
chamber of their home and staring at the ever changing blues and the sparkles like
diamonds of the water as the wind and waves touched it. Then there was the one and only
time she’d been allowed to visit the shore. It had nearly ended in disaster.

She wouldn’t think of that now. The faint scent of wood smoke made her nostrils twitch.
At last, something had gone well. The captain had found a way to make a fire.

She looked down at her wet gown. No doubt, with the dirt and the mussels and the tear
along her thigh she looked more like a wicked woman than a staid widow. The memory
of the captain’s strong hands on her made her belly tighten. She’d best walk slowly back
to the camp in order to give her clothing a chance to dry and her thoughts a chance to
cool.

* * * *

Jonah waited until Marianne was far down the beach before building the fire. He gathered
dry wood and tinder and felt in his pocket for the flint he usually kept there. Gone, not
surprising considering the state of his clothing. He had two choices, to create fire the hard
way with wood and friction and hours of time accompanied by the inevitable chafing and
damage to his hands, or to use the magic that was his by right.

It didn’t take him long to decide. With a word and the expenditure of energy he ignited a
small flame then sat down to feed it and to think while Marianne was nowhere near him.
He found her too much of a distraction.

He glanced towards the sea and was pleased to see a family of dolphins swimming
beyond the breakers. They called to him, invited him to come and swim and play, but that
would have to wait for later. He sent one high pitched whistle to let them know, then
settled in with his thoughts.

Thoughts of confusion, because he’d been caught off guard last night by the rogue wind
and waves. His sea sense had never failed him and his was stronger by far than most
denizens of the deep because of his heritage. Descendents of the first sea king were gifted
with remarkable powers of intuition and foreknowledge of the workings of weather and
tide and the doings of the creatures of the sea.

He should have known about the wave.

Something had blocked his reasoning. The dolphins always kept him informed of such
matters, too, but they had shared no news of imminent rogue waves. Their news had been
the same old messages from his father and mother.

The requests to return home before the next full moon had become more urgent.

It was time for him to choose a consort and focus on the many layers and depths of the
kingdom over which he would someday rule. If he didn’t return before the next full
moon, he never could. He’d have legs and feet and lungs that breathed air and the
miniscule lifetime of a man.

Intolerable, of course. He would also be vulnerable to human emotions. Most of his kind
were interested only in pleasure. Their main emotions were those of desire and occasional
jealousy. Some of the emotions that Jonah had witnessed in humans were not shared by
the people of the sea. Love, for example, and compassion, two strong emotions that Jonah
had witnessed time and again.

He’d learned that the lust that he slaked with the willing women of the sea ports was
different from the love he observed shared between some of his crewmen and their mates
who waited on shore. They had a connection and a commitment to each other that went
beyond fondness and beyond sex. He almost envied them this emotion that provoked
such depths of passion. He’d also seen the other side of love, the side that perverted the
sweetness of true feelings to lust and jealousy when love wasn’t returned. He wondered
what love truly felt like and wished he had more time to explore such a thing, but he
knew it was impossible. Mermen were incapable of love.

Compassion, though, that was something he might be able to teach his people. He’d seen
humans who had next to nothing give their very last piece of food to another who had
less. He’d watched shipmates go without to help another who was ill. On land, he’d seen

the wealthy give goods and money to the poor and watched the poor turn around and
share what little they had. This was something his people could benefit from and perhaps
save them from the petty squabbles and in fighting that was almost sport in his world.

His thoughts turned to the destructive nature of the wave again. It had come from an
unexpected quarter, given the seas they’d been sailing through. The more he thought
about it, the more he felt that it had been created and sent by someone who wanted to
send him a message. Someone who didn’t care about the possibility that human lives
would be lost because of the wave. Someone who wanted him back in the sea kingdom
no matter what.

More information, he needed more information of what was going on in his native home.
After Mrs. Shore fell asleep tonight, he’d slip into the sea and search for some answers.
He’d have to be back before she awoke in the morning, and he’d have to endure the pain
of transformation again. It couldn’t be helped. The compassion he’d learned from these
humans made him know that he couldn’t leave Mrs. Shore here without somehow finding
a way to rescue her.

A flutter of white down the beach caught his eye. Her gown, teased by the wind, billowed
away from her feet and legs. She was a beauty; many mermaids would envy her lush
curves and glorious length of hair. Every movement was graceful whether she was
walking or bending over to pick up a stick.

She’d been soft and warm when he’d taken her in his arms before. The webbing between
her digits and her sea colored eyes mesmerized him, her revelation that she’d grown up
on the island of Jamaica tickled a thread of memory. A piece of information was missing
from this puzzle. Two puzzles to work out, he thought as he searched for rocks or logs on
which to sit. Which one was of more import, the one of the woman or that of the rogue
wave upon the sea?

* * * *

The sun set in a palette of red and gold and pink that reminded Jonah of the coral gardens
in the tropical seas. Just before the sun disappeared beneath a horizon of waves, it shot
the sea with a brief show of emerald, then was gone. The dark sky filled with the wash of
stars that sailors called the Milky Way. Jonah studied them in an effort to figure out
exactly where this island was, but he knew that his best bet was to go into the sea and get
information from his friends there.

The moon was on the wane. When it was full again he must return to his father’s palace.
Between now and then he must find a way to return Mrs. Shore safely to her people. He
strained his senses but no hint of wooden ship hissing through the waves reached his
sensitive ears, nor did he hear the sounds of wind on sails. It became more and more
apparent that they were not in any of the normal shipping lanes plied by sailors on the
sea.

“Those roasted tubers were quite awful, were they not?” Mrs. Shore’s rueful voice cut the
silence. “I was sure they would taste like something similar from my homeland. Alas.”
She laughed in a quiet way that said that she appreciated a joke even if on herself.

Jonah watched her from the other side of the small blaze. Deep lights were drawn out of
the depths of her black hair by the flickering fire. Her face was made more finely etched
by the give and take of shadows and her gown, though looking soiled in the sunlight,
gleamed as if made of sea foam in this light.

“I’ve eaten much worse,” he offered.

“You are kind. The mussels weren’t as bad as I feared, though a lovely melted butter
sauce would have made them more palatable to my tongue.” She wiggled her toes in the
sand.

“You must be tired, madam, from your efforts today. Perhaps you should sleep.” Jonah
couldn’t go into the sea until he was sure she wouldn’t see him transform. He ached for
news and information.

She yawned. “What is your name, Captain?”

“What?” Her question took him by surprise.

“Your given name? If we are to be trapped here just the two of us, it seems odd to
continue with the formality of Mrs. and Captain, does it not?”

“I would have thought that a woman of your breeding would appreciate the social
courtesies even in such an unusual situation.”

She stretched her arms over her head. Jonah watched the soft fabric tug against her
breasts causing an answering ache in his groin.

“I have spent the last several years chafing against the social courtesies, Captain. When I
get back to Jamaica I’ll have the wherewithal to do what I wish when I wish. Perhaps I
simply want a bit of practice.” She hesitated, then tilted her head so that her eyes glowed
across from him. “You may call me Marianne, if you wish.” She shrugged.

He nodded. “I am Jonah, though perhaps you already knew that.”

“Yes, your full name was given to me before departing Nantucket. It didn’t seem
appropriate to call you such without a by-your-leave.” She poked at the fire with a stick.
“An unlucky name for a sailor, Jonah, so they say.”

“What else do they say?” He’d heard it all before but was curious as to how much she’d
been told.

“It is said that you can read the wind and waves like a scholar reads a book.” Her voice
slowed as if she tired. “Also that you do not need charts or sextants or other aids to
navigate the waters of the world. And that you have never lost a ship or its cargo.”

“I sound like the very paragon of a ship’s captain,” Jonah said dryly.

“Until yesterday.” Her gaze caught him, straight and sharp.

“Yes.”

“It is said you never lost a seaman who was under your command and neither did you
take on passengers. Yet the ship was split in two pieces, the cargo and probably all of
your men sent to the bottom of the sea.” Her voice thickened with emotion. She rubbed
her hands across her eyes. “And here am I.”

“Yes,” he said again. He didn’t know what else to say. Instinct warned him to keep his
voice gentle and low and perhaps stave off the hysteria that he felt was like a wave trying
to crest and break from her.

“Yes,” she echoed. “I’m very tired, Jonah.” She stretched out so that her head, cushioned
by a bent arm, rested on the log on which she’d sat. Weary, sleep filled eyes blinked at
him. “Thank you for saving me,” she whispered.

Fierce protectiveness swelled in his chest as he watched her eyes close and waited until
her breathing slowed and deepened into sleep. Though he hated to leave her alone, he
knew that his best chance for keeping her safe was to find out things that he could not
find out here. She’d be safe until morning, he told himself. He’d searched the island with
all the senses at his disposal. No other humans had ever walked here, nor did predators of
the mainland make this place their home.

He put one more piece of driftwood on the fire and moved away from its circle of light.
In the darkness beyond, between the flames and the sea, he stripped off the trappings of
humanity. With one last look at Marianne’s sleeping, trusting form, he turned and strode
naked into the water of his home.

Chapter Six

Jonah felt his body transform as he dove into the waves. No pain accompanied this
transformation; it was back to the streamlined shape of his species. The taste of water ran
through his mouth and gills as he cut through his natural element with the speed of heady
delight.

The water caressed his skin as he swept down to the cold depths then back up into a
warmer current a few yards from the surface. The creatures of the sea either ignored him
or spoke a brief word of greeting according to their kind. Jonah reveled in the freedom

that bore him away from the small island and the woman to whom he felt a stifling
responsibility.

Many hours and miles away, he finally found the family of dolphins with whom he had
spoken earlier that day. They played and leapt about each other until they tired of the
game. At last Jonah could ask the old female leader of the group his questions. It was
slow going, she had to rise to the surface for air more often than her younger kin, but she
was wise in the ways of the sea and Jonah had great respect for her.

What she told him, worried him. “You say the wave came upon you without
foreknowledge, too?” He frowned as her thoughts found their way into his mind.

“Yes, Prince, we felt the ocean rise as if taking a deep breath, then the seas raged in a
steady stream of turbulence. No warning, no chatter of the earth or whisper of strong
winds foretold the event. A darkness covered its coming.”

Jonah sensed a deep melancholy in her. “Did your people suffer because of this
mischief?”

“Aye.”

Her huge, gentle eyes stared at him. She nudged him with a flipper until he

turned. In the near distance, a female dolphin swam in circles. She cried out for a little
one but he could see none of their young.

“It came too fast to save the pup?”

The old one moved her head up and down. She headed for the surface again. Jonah heard
her blow then suck in another lungful of air.

“Who would do such a thing?”

she asked.

Sadness filled Jonah as he heard the mother’s mournful song. A dolphin’s lament could
bring tears to the most jaded of any race. “I promise to find out, old mother,” he said.

“It is said that one of your kin has suffered as well.”

Dread settled low in his gut. “Who?”

“The one like a brother to you. He once joined you as you learned to ride the waves. You
know of whom I speak?”

“Sebast? No, not Sebast.” His closest cousin, he couldn’t be dead.

Kind eyes blinked at him. “No, Sebast’s sire, not Sebast. But your friend mourns. He
needs you.”

His uncle, his father’s closest friend and adviser, dead. A thread of anger made its way
through him as he counted the cost in lives of one rogue wave. It didn’t even count the
human cost, but the small dolphin and his uncle were more than enough for him to do his
duty and discover who would cause such a thing.

“Can you get a message to my cousin, old mother?”

At her nod, he said, “Have him meet me at the isle on which you found me in two nights.
I have a duty waiting there that I cannot leave.”

“Have a care, Prince, the tide is turning in your kingdom. Choices are almost upon you
that have simmered in the oceans of the world since your birth. You cannot turn away.
Look forward, Prince.”

After that cryptic statement the dolphins gathered around their leader, whistled a farewell,
and swam away.

Jonah watched them go with a sense of abandonment. He wished to go with them, but his
obligation, an emotion he’d picked up from humans that meshed well with his sense of
responsibility that came from being heir to a kingdom, bade him return to the island
before dawn. A glance through the clear glass of the surface showed him the face of the
heavens in the stars. Like reading one of the clocks of mankind he knew exactly when it
was and how far he had to travel to return to the beach.

At least he wouldn’t return empty handed, he vowed. He hunted with an eye to the tasty
and easy to prepare of the fishes. He had several on a string of strong weed by the time
the sky was lightening with the coming day and the beach was in sight. He allowed
waves to surf him up onto the sand, pulling his bounty behind him. Just as he said the
words and the pain took him, he remembered that he’d removed his clothes.

The thought of Marianne’s face when she found him thus, naked and wet, almost made
him laugh through the agony. Not quite, as usual the agony took him away.

* * * *

She started awake at the sound of the scream. As it faded into silence she looked at the
remnants of the fire and beyond it to the empty space where Jonah should have been. Had
it been he who’d cried out? She rushed to her feet, determined to find him if only to make
sure he was safe. Sand had blown into her eyes in the night. She stumbled to the spring,
cursing that she’d forgotten her foot wear as branches and stones scraped at her. At last
she was able to wash out her eyes and rub her face clean.

The woods were quiet; all she heard above the soft whisper of wind was the rote upon the
beach.

“Jonah?” she called. Empty silence, not even the echo of her own voice broke it.

Perhaps he’d gone for a walk. She hurried back to the little camp and searched up and
down the beach. There, her heart leaped to her throat. Half way down the beach a large
form lay on the sand above the lap of the waves. It was big enough to be a small dolphin
and Marianne hoped it wasn’t a dead creature. But it could yet be alive and she could
save it. She pulled her gown above her knees and ran in that direction.

Before she’d gone ten feet she stumbled over a piece of clothing. Jonah’s shirt? And a
few feet further, trousers ripped along the inseam. Anxiety had her running faster across
the tugging sand.

His bald head shone in the early sun. A string of fish lay in the sand by his side.

“Oh dear,” Marianne gasped as she knelt beside him. He must have gone into the sea to
fish for them. She’d nagged at him for food but he must have been too prudish for her to
see him in wet clothes or no clothes. And now look, he’d drowned just so she could eat.

“Oh Jonah,” she sobbed and pulled his head into her lap. Her hand rested across his chest.
The thudding of his heartbeat came through this muscles and skin. His chest moved up
and down with breath. Relief washed through her.

“You’re not dead,” she exclaimed. He didn’t answer. She searched his head and chest for
injuries, something to cause him to swoon, but found no evidence of such a thing. She
wanted to check the rest of his body, but his nakedness quite stunned her. Then she
realized that in order to help him, she needed to know the extent of his injuries and must
set aside her own misgivings.

“It’s for his own good,” she said. She put his head gently onto a pillow of sand and began
to feel his arms for any breaks.

No, they were whole. As she spread her hands across the muscles of his chest, her fingers
swept across his nipples chest. She marveled at the breadth and strength evident there.
She could discern no bruising or damage.

A deep breath later and she let her gaze wander to where his slender waist became strong
hips that cradled the mystery of his manhood. Though curiosity had her gaze lingering
there, her sense of propriety had her shying away and moving down his nether limbs to
his elegant feet. She touched his legs and found no damage there.

A pile of sand covered his feet so she had to lift them and brush them off before she
could examine them closely. She couldn’t help but notice the small webbing between his
toes, much like hers and her father’s. Odd, she’d never known anyone but she and her
father with such an odd physical defect.

She frowned and finished her examination. Then she rolled Jonah half way over to make
a cursory examination of his backside. Except for a small bruise on his buttocks, probably
from the stone on which he lay, she saw no reason for his unconscious state.

“Jonah,” she said giving him a little shake. “Can you hear me?”

He groaned.

“Ugh, I’ll have to drag you again,” she said. At least she’d had a restful night of sleep and
wasn’t as exhausted as after the shipwreck. Still, he was a large man and heavy. And she
couldn’t drag him across the sand naked.

A giggle escaped her lips at what her staid, puritanical mother-in-law would say if she
saw Marianne’s predicament. The poor woman would no doubt swoon herself.

Her giggle grew to a full belly laugh until Marianne was so overcome that she collapsed
onto the sand beside Jonah and laughed until tears filled her eyes and her stomach ached.
Then the laughter gave way to real tears. Weeping tears that surprised Marianne as much
as the laughter.

The gripping sadness that had held her since learning of her husband’s death, the
unreality of the life she’d led since living in the cold waters off New England, all washed
away in the torrent of tears that until now she’d not let overcome her. The only blessing,
once the tears stopped, was that Jonah had been unconscious and hadn’t witnessed her
weakness.

“Well then,” Marianne said. A quick wash in the waters of the sea freshened her face and
her spirits. She had to drag Jonah to the shelter again so she did her best to fasten his
trousers around his body. It was slow going, having to roll him this way and that and
partially lift him to get them pulled up. The fact that they were ripped along the seams
was strange to her, but the damage to the cloth made it easier to wrestle him into it.

Finally she had his body partially protected. She was sweating with the effort by then but
didn’t stop until she’d dragged him back up to the fire side and brought a huge leaf of
fresh water to toss over him. Even that didn’t wake him. She thought of dressing him in
his shirt but thought better of it and used the garment to fashion a kind of shade over him.
Then she found a sharp rock, replenished the fire, and got to work on the fish.

“You’ve been hard at work.” His whispering voice pulled Marianne out of her reverie an
hour later.

“Here.” She helped him sit and sip some water from the bark container she’d managed to
fashion.

“Thank you.” He drank then sat. When he’d finished he looked down. She saw a small,
grim upturn of his lips as he took in the way his trousers were on, though twisted and
probably not very comfortable. Then his head turned so that he could see the pit she’d
dug for the fish, fish that was now cleaned and wrapped in leaves waiting for the fire to
die down so that she could bake them under the hot coals.

Finally he grabbed her hands and forced her to open them since she’d clenched them into
fists. She’d cut herself trying to find a way to clean the fish. Ugly red abrasions covered
both palms. Her otherwise elegant fingers were bruised, the nails ragged and torn.

She snatched her hands away but not before he’d rubbed a thumb across the sensitive
palms. “You put yourself in danger simply to get some fish,” she accused him.

He shrugged, his green eyes blazing from beneath shadowed lids.

“What if you hadn’t come back?” The tremor in her voice surprised her. She turned away
from him, unwilling to let him see the fear that had been her companion since she’d
awoken and found him gone.

“I did come back, Marianne. I’d not abandon you.”

She took a deep breath, struggling for control. “Next time, please don’t fish in the night.
It’s too dangerous.”

When he didn’t reply, she turned to him. “Well?” she asked.

“I’ll not promise that, but I will be careful.”

“I suppose that will have to do.” She rubbed her hands over her face and got a healthy
dose of fish smell from them. “Ugh.”

“Do you swim?” Jonah asked.

“Not since I was a child.”

“You’re hot and in need of cooling off. Why don’t you bathe in the ocean? It’s not deep
close by. You’ll be refreshed when you come out,” Jonah suggested.

Marianne glanced down at her nightgown which became more dirty and ragged with each
passing hour. The memory of the way he’d looked at her yesterday, as if her gown had
been transparent and he could see her nakedness beneath came back to her.

“It wouldn’t be seemly,” she said primly, though in truth she longed leap into the
beckoning waves.

“Seemly?” He laughed. The sound sent shivers running down her back. “I know the state
in which you found me. That wasn’t quite seemly, either.”

Heat rushed into her face as she remembered his nakedness and the way he’d felt beneath
her hands. “I was afraid you were injured.” She pursed her lips. “Why on earth did you
remove your clothing anyway? It’s not like you could have gone far from shore for these
fish.”

He raised an brow muscle and she saw that green gleam again. “I prefer to keep my
clothes dry. Besides, bathing is best done naked, as is other activities. Don’t you agree?”

“Other … oh, you are no gentleman,” Marianne gasped as she understood his meaning.

The image of naked bodies--hers and his--entwined in coupling like married people
popped into her head. Heat flooded her body as she wondered what his body would feel
like rubbing against hers. Her husband had never undressed to complete the marriage act
and she’d been such an innocent. Now she wondered if she might have gotten more
pleasure from it had they indeed disrobed before engaging in such intimacy.

But she wasn’t married now and what Jonah suggested had her curiosity growing.
Widows had more freedom of action than married women or the unmarried.

She looked at him from where he sat under the shade of his shirt. His chest gleamed, his
bare feet caressed the sand, and his hands supported his body making the muscles in his
arms bulge.

The look in his eyes dared her. She made up her mind.

“I believe I shall bathe,” she said. “But you must promise not to watch.”

“Why?”

“Because it would be unseemly for you to see me all wet like that.”

He waved a hand in front of him. She couldn’t read his expression but thought he might
be making fun of her. “You’ve seen me in all my glory. What difference will it make?”

Though shocked that he would remind her of that, she sniffed and said, “It’s not the
same, now, is it? No, you will turn your eyes to the woods and you will not turn back
until I tell you to.”

“And how do you intend to dry off?”

She hadn’t considered that. “Well, I’ll, um, I’ll have to….”

“You’d best leave your gown on the sand and go into the sea the way nature intended.”

Dare she? Dare she strip naked in front of this man and bathe unclothed? It was wrong by
everything she’d been taught and by all the rules drummed into her head. It was wrong to
want to swim in the sea, wrong to want to take off every last stitch of clothing in front of
a strange man, wrong to be naked under the bright sun.

A small laugh escaped her. To the devil with wrong.

“Turn towards the woods,” she told him.

Without waiting to see if he complied, she turned her back on him, pulled her gown over
her head and dropped it onto the sand. Then she stretched her arms high up over her head,
sniffed in the heady aroma of sun on water, and ran to dive into the waves.

Chapter Seven

When the water closed over her head, Marianne opened her eyes wide. The sudden
enjoyment of the silky water skimming her body took her back to the day as a child when
she’d run into the surf without fear. She burst up out of the water in a laughing splash,
happiness bubbling from her as she let her feet find the floor of the cove.

She looked back to the beach half expecting Jonah to be watching her even though she’d
asked him not to. His back was decorously to her, though she noticed that his head was
cocked as if he was listening for something.

She dived again, amazed at how natural the weightlessness made her feel. It was as if
she’d known how to swim and move from birth. Again she wondered why she’d been in
such a panic the night of the storm. Then she pushed that memory away. She’d been
afraid and alone until Jonah had saved her. Now here she was making memories of her
first adventure as a woman of independence.

When she opened her eyes under water she saw a new world under the sea. The colors
intrigued her, some were muted by the waters, others brought out in bright shades. The
tiny fish wore vibrant blue stripes. She spied a dark shape moving along the bottom and
recognized is as a lobster, somehow blown away from its deeper element. No matter, it
would make a tasty meal.

As she swam down to retrieve it, a current of icy water touched her toes making her look
back. It was darker there, but nothing lurked waiting for her. Even so she made for the
surface where she gasped for breath and looked around. She was much farther out from
shore than she’d realized. She saw Jonah standing on the edge of the beach keeping his
toes safely out of the water. He’d lifted a hand to his brow, no doubt looking for her. She
waved at him and giggled as he frowned back.

One more wave and she dove again to pick up the lobster. Holding it far enough back on
its body to avoid the hard pincers, she swam back towards the beach until she could
stand. Cool wavelets lapped the top of her shoulders and vied with the warmth of the sun
for her attention. But it was the man who stood just beyond the water who took her breath
away.

His arms were crossed over his muscular chest. She could see his strong legs where the
material of his trousers was torn away. The look of anticipation on his face had her
blushing.

Anticipation thrummed through her because she knew that this adventure of the physical
would not end when she emerged from the water. Rather, she boldly chose that she would
continue it with Jonah. Indeed, she didn’t see how she could possibly hold herself back
from him. Her body ached for him to hold her. She melted at the thought of him kissing
her again.

Water sluiced off her as she waded closer. She stopped when it just barely hid the tops of
her breasts. Jonah didn’t move, didn’t speak.

What if he didn’t want her the same way she wanted him?

She stood taller so that the rosy tips of her nipples rose into the air. They pebbled and
sent an answering thrum to her belly. Jonah stared at her. If it could be said that his eyes
gripped her, then she was already within his grasp.

A movement at her side had her looking down. She’d forgotten about the lobster and now
she had a hunger that one lobster would not satisfy. She tossed the creature over her
shoulder, back into the deep, and took a few more steps towards Jonah.

This time she stopped when the water was just below her waist. It covered the soft curls
hidden beneath. Her hair, loosened from its braid, dripped in a shining cascade over one
shoulder to her hips. Jonah watched her slow emergence as if she were a goddess moving
out of the water of her birth. His loins grew hot and hard as her languid movements made
his breath hitch in his chest.

Something had changed in her between the time she first dove in and now. A sense of
confidence, of self, radiated from her. Perhaps she’d let the waters of the world bathe
away the veneer of civilization that she’d worn along with the silly nightgown.

As he stood there watching, waiting for her to blush and run, she bent over and filled her
hands with water. In a movement so slow and sensual that it took his breath away, she
raised her arms and let the handfuls of water fall over her face and body. Then she ran her
hands where the water had gone.

He couldn’t move. He wanted to touch her, to sink into her so badly that he was afraid
that if he made any movement at all that this sensual creature would disappear, fade away
and become the staid, prudent widow with whom he’d been marooned.

So he stood and waited to see which reality would come all the way out of the sea to him.

Her pearl white teeth gleamed in a small smile as she walked the rest of the way to where
he stood. She stopped a heartbeat away from him. Her body pulsated with light and
water. He felt the heat of her even through the coolness of the damp left on her skin.

Just when he thought he could bear it no longer, she closed the distance and lifted her
mouth to his.

Her full, soft lips feathered across his, and that motion gave him knowledge. She was just
as unsure of what he wanted as he was of what she wanted. He groaned as he took her
face between his hands and opened his mouth on hers to claim her.

She turned her head to give him better access. Her tongue darted into his mouth, touching
his teeth, stroking the sides of his tongue, setting his mouth on a fire of need. His loins
felt as if they would burst into flames at the desire that threaded through him.

He let his mouth find the corner of her lips and kissed her there. He found the pert tip of
her nose and kissed, as well as the corners of each eye and the lobe of her left ear. In each
place he kissed, he tasted the salt of his kingdom. She tilted her head back so that he
could nibble at her neck as she darted her tongue along the outer shell of one of his ears
and caressed his skull as if it were a priceless pearl.

When his mouth found first one nipple then the other her moan set him on fire. All of a
sudden his already ragged clothing was too constricting. As if she could read his mind,
Marianne reached for the buttons of his trousers and unfastened them. Her fingers
trembled and fumbled, but he held his impatience in check until she had released him.

His couplings with other human females had been frantic and brief. Always in some
shore front inn, always simply a way to assuage lust. This was different. He wanted
Marianne to savor each moment. He wanted to savor each moment.

She gasped when his tongue traced a line to her belly. When he found the sensitive bud
hidden under the curls between her legs, he was afraid she’d collapse right there.

“Come,” he growled as he lifted her.

Her warmth and softness nestled against him. It was all he could do to not take her there,
in the sand. But it wouldn’t do, not for her.

After he carried her to the slight shade of their camp he hurried back for her gown and his
trousers. She’d smoothed a bed of sand and he placed the clothes on top of it.

When he hesitated, she knelt and beckoned to him. “Don’t make me wait,” she
whispered. “I’ll lose my nerve.”

“Madam, you have more courage than a host of sailors,” Jonah murmured as he joined
her.

She blushed as he reclined next to her. Their bodies brushed lightly. At each point of
contact, a small flare shot through him. He leaned on an elbow and watched her mobile
features, the lips swollen from his kisses, the tips of her nipples rosy and tight.

He reached and held the weight of one breast in his hands, stroked the fullness with his
thumb. As if she could no longer deny her need, she lay beside him and stroked her hand

down the length of his body. She stopped midway to stroke his maleness until he was
hard as centuries old coral and pulsating with the heat of a magma breach.

With another long kiss that left them both breathless, he rolled her onto her back and
spread her legs. He kissed the hollows between her thighs and smelled her wetness as she
moaned her desire.

“Please, Jonah,” she said, her hands pulling him up the length of her body until he was
poised over her.

He prolonged their combined agony by stroking her slickness with the head of his
erection until she bucked up and forced him against her. Then he sank his shaft into her
and simply reveled in the tight wet heat of her for an instant that felt like heaven.

Her eyes opened wide before they rolled up and closed. She tightened her legs around
him as he thrust within her. The tightness in his loins, in his belly, and in his brain
increased until he felt sure that his body would explode. Then he felt her release as she
cried out his name over and over. His control fled, his body pulsed, and his orgasm
overtook both of them.

“By Poseidon’s trident,” he swore when he could breathe again.

His weight was comfortable on her, though when she looked down the length of their
connected bodies she felt an undercurrent of embarrassment that she’d acted so
unladylike. She’d screamed out his name, for heaven’s sake. It had been the most
glorious experience she’d ever had. The marital act had never been a pleasure with Silas,
just a grunting imposition to be endured. But this, how did one characterize this? Could it
always be like this?

He rolled off of her leaving her chilled even in the heat. “Why?” he asked.

She sat, pulled her knees to her chin, and looked at his profile. When he turned his
intense gaze to her, she forced herself to meet it evenly, though the gleam in his eyes
turned her insides to mush. She understood his question but didn’t know how to answer it
without sounding like the loose woman that she no doubt was. After all, staid New
England widows did not go around seducing sea captains and making love in the sand.
How could she explain to him?

“My mother died when I was born,” she said, though this wasn’t what she planned to tell
him. “Father never got over missing her. Something about my birth made him love me
but made him hold back at the same time. I never understood. I miss him.”

She stared out to the never ending horizon, trying to gather her thoughts together before
continuing. When she looked at him again, he’d turned his eyes to the sea. It made it
easier to speak.

“He protected me but wouldn’t let me run free.” She shrugged. “Like most fathers, I
suppose. But the year after he made the mistake of letting me go to the ocean, he started
planning my future, a future away from my home. When I begged him to tell me why, he
said it was for my own good. He had to send me away or chance losing me forever.”

“What did that mean?” Jonah asked.

“I’m not sure, but it had to do with his mother. You see, I’d always heard that my
grandmother had given up everything to marry my grandfather. When he died, she simply
walked into the sea one day and never returned. Father lost his mother to the sea. For
some reason he was afraid I would be lost there, too.”

She stretched and arched her back. The freedom from clothing made her a bit
lightheaded, or perhaps the lovemaking was the culprit. She didn’t know. Jonah was
staring at her feet. He took her hands in his and spread her fingers, touching the sensitive
webbing between them. She shivered at his touch and knew that they would make love
again and soon. Heat pooled between her legs.

“These,” he said as he stroked the webbing. “And between your toes. Did your mother
have them? Or your father, perhaps?”

She sighed when he stopped stroking her. “I noticed you share the trait. But yes, they are
a legacy from my father’s mother, as is my eye color. Perhaps,” she grew chill at the
thought but had to continue the way her mind was going, “we, you and I, are related
somehow.”

Jonah shook his head. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the opened palm.
Tremors shot through her as he nibbled the sensitive skin. “It is impossible,” he
murmured.

She reached her free hand up to trace his ear, let her tongue follow her finger’s path.
“You taste of the sea,” she said.

“You didn’t tell me why?
She looked into his eyes and saw depths within that she couldn’t reach. She hoped for his
understanding but could only count on him hearing her words. “Because I wasn’t alive
until I set foot on your vessel. Because I want to feel alive and make a memory that will
last even when you’ve sailed out of sight.”

“And?” he probed as if he knew her well.

“And because I am free to do what I will.” She felt giddy and a little frightened of the
words that expressed her new found independence. Her hands shook as they gathered her
hair against her neck then dropped it to fall in a curtain over her face so that he couldn’t
see her.

He knelt and pushed her hair away and dropped a kiss on her closed eyelids.

Then he pushed her back and kissed her again, on her mouth, on her neck, on her breasts.
He didn’t speak. He simply touched her and aroused every instinct she had to be the
woman to this man. His mouth found her private place and pleasured her there until she
felt she would melt with the agony of need. Then he plunged into her again and again
until they both shuddered to a perfect release.

Chapter Eight

Her wanton manner surprised Marianne with each bout of lovemaking they enjoyed all
that long day. She swam in the sea and cleaned the smell of Jonah from her body only to
find that his scent had become hers by the time the sun was setting in a molten ball into
the purpling sea.

Jonah refused to bathe in the sea, but he did go back to the spring to wash and bring them
water to ease the thirst that lovemaking brought them. As they moved from sun to shade
during the day, they spoke little except to say, touch me here, taste me there, and
complying.

It was perfect or almost so. Because after that first time when Jonah asked why and
Marianne told him a small part of what lay in her heart, he hadn’t asked again. Instead
he’d made love to her gently, with passion and patience as he tutored her in the skills that
she’d never learned as a married woman. After her first experience with her husband,
Silas had told her that good women did not move to entice their husbands so and that she
should just allow him to take his pleasure of her. They must make children, thus fulfilling
their promise to God and family. So Marianne had denied her impulses to try to enjoy
what became coupling and not an expression of marital bliss.

What she did with Jonah went way beyond coupling.

She’d gone back into the sea for the lobster later in the day, long after they’d eaten the
fish. They were pulling apart that lobster in the light of the fire, the stars scattering faintly
against the soft blue of a young night when Jonah asked, “Are you not afraid that I’ll
leave you with child?”

The question took Marianne by surprise. Her inability to become pregnant had been a
sore point in her marriage and with her husband’s family. She shook her head.

“Most women in your situation would be,” Jonah said.

“Have no fear, Captain McAdams. I am barren. You needn’t worry that I’ll burden you
with a child.” Her heart ached that she couldn’t bear a child, but the reality of it had set in
long ago.

He laughed a short bark. “Worried, nay I wasn’t worried, madam, but only thought to set
your mind at ease if the possibility concerned you. You could not be made pregnant by
me.”

“Ah.” That meant that they could continue with their sexual explorations without fear of
creating a compromising situation. “So when we leave this place, we’ll simply say good-
bye and that shall be that?”

He inclined his head. “Isn’t that what you would wish, with going back to the island and
setting yourself up as an independent woman and all? I would think you would appreciate
the freedom of choice of new male friends.”

“I am no light skirt like a dockside doxy,” she spat out, suddenly angry.

“No, you are not,” he agreed. He tossed the last bit of lobster shell into the coals and held
out a hand to her. “Come,” he said. “Walk with me. It will do us good to loosen muscles
stiffened by pleasurable though unaccustomed efforts.”

She did ache in unusual places, Marianne mused as she allowed him to pull him to her
feet. They walked along the starlit beach in the firm sand just above where the waves
shushed against the shore.

The silence between them, though comfortable, had an element of tension that Marianne
couldn’t put a finger on. Maybe it was the way her skin tingled where it brushed against
his, or the way his eyes gleamed when he turned to look at her. All she knew was that she
was falling in love with this green eyed god who made her feel like the woman she’d
never known she could be.

What would she do without him when they were finally rescued?

Rescued. She turned to look behind them. The fire burned brightly but low. How would a
ship at sea ever see such a puny flame? It would be an easy thing to build it higher, make
it smoky so that it could be seen at some distance out to sea. Surely someone would have
heard about their ship being lost by now. But perhaps not. This was only their second day
shipwrecked though it seemed much longer.

She blinked away unexpected tears at the thought that there was really no one who would
know or maybe care that she’d been lost. Her father wouldn’t have received her letter yet
so would not know to look for her. That bitter realization caught at her throat. Until now
she’d only focused on getting back to Jamaica and becoming her own woman. Now she
knew that it was still home because her father was there and she’d missed him.

They stopped walking. A whistling sound came from beyond the rote and crests of the
nearest waves. They stood near the boulder where she’d found the mussels yesterday, but
the tide was high and they’d have to wade out to get to it now. A sliver of moon made its

appearance. Its light gilded Jonah’s head like a coronet of silver. She could well believe
him to be an ancient god of the sea, if he weren’t so loath to get into the water.

He had a listening look on his face.

“What is it?” she asked.

“The dolphins are talking to each other,” he said. “Can you hear them?”

She focused her senses on the sounds. For almost a second it seemed as if she could make
out some words, but … no. She laughed a bit. “That last day on the ship, you remember,
when the dolphins surrounded us?”

He nodded.

“I almost thought I could understand them, that they were speaking. They seemed so
intelligent, don’t you think?”

“They are very smart creatures,” Jonah said. He put an arm around her waist and turned
her back towards their familiar campsite. “Tell me how you learned to swim?” he asked
as they walked along.

“I never learned,” she said.

“You swim like one born to the water. And you grew up on an island. How can you say
you never learned to swim?”

“Because it’s true. The one time I was allowed into the ocean as a child my father had to
swim out for me. He was afraid I’d be swept away, lost like his mother. He never allowed
me into the waves again. The night of the shipwreck was the first time I’d been in the sea
since.”

“Amazing.” Jonah laced his hands through hers, their fingers intertwined.

He made love to her by the dying light of the fire, this time with a subdued passion, as if
there was leisure to explore and pleasure each other. The joy of it brought tears to
Marianne’s eyes as she reached the peak of pleasure. She kept her eyes wide and watched
a look of wonder fill Jonah’s face as he surged into her one last time and cried out. Her
heart did a little flip-flop and she knew that even with the freedom that awaited her, she’d
never be free of this man. And she didn’t mind at all.

Jonah waited until the lingering somnolence of spent passion brought restful sleep to
Marianne before he went back down the beach across from where he knew the dolphins
frolicked. He’d heard another voice earlier, one he hadn’t expected for another day. His
cousin, Sebast, waited with the dolphins.

He contemplated simply diving into the sea and swimming out to them, but decided
against it. Transforming back sapped too much from him. The day of lovemaking had
given him a thrum of energy, but not the kind that would help him transform. He called in
the language of his people to Sebast and hoped his cousin would come close enough to
shore so that they could talk.

While he waited he thought about Marianne and wondered about who her grandmother
had been. Had she been a mermaid transformed by love into a human? It happened but
rarely, and never with happy results. Mating between his people and humans was
pleasurable, but children were next to impossible to conceive unless a huge amount of
magic was spent in the process. Besides, the only mermaid he knew of who had ever been
the lover of a human male had been an old crone when he’d last heard of her.

Had the magic of her youth been spent in conceiving a human child, Marianne’s father?

He’d ask Sebast to find out. A fountain of water erupted in front of him. His cousin,
glistening and dark, appeared in front of him. Sebast, the one full of mirth and joy from
the time of his birth, now wore a frown and carried sadness in his face. His beard, black
as the depths of the sea, curled in a mass down his chest matched only by the waves of
hair that were pushed back off his face.

“Come swim with me, cousin,” Sebast called out. His voice boomed like waves crashing
in a stormy sea, full of grief.

“Nay, not yet, Sebast. I grieve with you. Your father will be missed.” Jonah stayed well
back from the waves though he longed to join Sebast and comfort him.

“We have revenge to wreak. Why will you not join me? It is your duty,” Sebast called
out.

Aching for his cousin’s loss tugged at Jonah. “Do you know who was responsible?”

“I have a guess. It had to be Mestaline. She’s wanted your return for decades and decided
to make a big play for you.”

“Mestaline?” The idea had merit. The mermaid had been impatient when Jonah had been
given twice the allotted time of any previous sea prince to learn about the life above the
water. She was one of several maids in the swimming to be his consort. All the same, the
kind of power required to both make the sea rise as well as keep it hidden from him was
more than he’d ever credited her with.

“What does my father say to your accusation?” Jonah asked.

Sebast slapped at the water. “He advises patience, as always. Though how he can advise
patience when his own brother is dead is beyond belief.”

“My father is wise in the ways of the ocean, cousin. Perhaps he knows something you do
not.”

Sebast whirled around until the sea near him foamed into a whirlpool. “I knew you would
take his side,” he yelled. “Come with me, help me revenge my father.”

“I cannot.” Jonah looked down the beach where the fire glowed golden against the dark.
“At least not yet,” he amended. “I have a responsibility here.”

“I smell the responsibility on your body. The dolphins said you had a human female in
your care, but she is not of our race and not yours to be responsible for. You’ve had her,
now let her own kind find her and take care of her.”

“No,” Jonah didn’t hesitate. “I cannot leave her.”

“You must, and soon. If you don’t return by the next full moon, you’ll never be able to.”

“I know my duties to the kingdom.”

Sebast let loose a harsh laugh. “You have spent too much time in the land of men, cousin.
Come, swim with me and take your place. We have much to do to set the kingdom to
rights.”

“Soon,” Jonah promised. “By the next full moon. You must learn patience, Sebast, even
in your grief.”

The night air and the movement of the sea stilled as Sebast and Jonah stared at each other
across the water.

Finally Sebast rose to his full length above the waves. He looked mighty in his despair
and again Jonah felt a reflection of the grief and anger that resonated from his cousin.

“I will wait until the full moon for justice, for your return. But no longer.” With that,
Sebast used his strong tail to leap into the air and dive beneath the waves.

The dolphins chattered and played as if the strong emotions of the nearby mermen meant
nothing. Sadness welled up inside Jonah for Sebast’s loss as well as for the reminder that
his days above the water were numbered.

He turned back to the fire, to Marianne. His feet trudged sluggishly until he saw her
sleeping form. For some reason she had put her nightgown back on. The low burning
flame flickered, creating shadows and licks of color along her body as if the cloth were
alive.

As he watched her sleep a deep possessiveness came over him. She was his until the
moment he returned to his duties. Returning to those duties had never been an onerous
fate, just what he had to do. Now….

Her eyelids fluttered open. In this light it looked like her eyes were afire.

He went to her, took her into his arms, and tried to forget about duty for one more night.

When the cool breath of dawn touched Jonah, he woke knowing that he had to tell
Marianne of what he suspected of her heritage. Because if she was part mermaid then she
could choose to leave her human world behind and join him as his consort in the sea.

He didn’t understand the roiling emotions that filled him when he considered the
alternatives. He didn’t know what was best for her or for him. All he knew was that he
didn’t want to live his life without this passionate woman by his side. Neither did he
know how to live without the sea that was his soul. If he could convince her to come with
him, to cast off her nether limbs and embrace his world, then he would live his long
lifetime in complete bliss.

Chapter Nine

He made love to her as the sun came up, waking her with the tender torture of his hands
and lips on her body. When they were spent, Marianne went to the spring for a drink and
brought back a leaf full of water for Jonah. She found him sitting cross-legged under a
tree tossing sticks into the fire.

“Thank you,” he said as he took the refreshment from her. When he was finished, he
pulled her down to sit beside him.

“You’re frowning.” She rubbed at the wrinkles on his forehead, tenderness for him filling
her.

He didn’t laugh or kiss her. He took her hand and examined it again. Finally he planted a
kiss on her palm. Bubbles of awareness floated through her. She tried to snuggle closer
but he moved so that they faced each other. A shiver of foreboding raced along her spine.
His eyes glowed with strong emotion; he kept his hand fisted in his lap.

“What is it?” she finally said.

He took her hands again and let his thumbs stroke them. “You told me of your family on
Jamaica, of your grandmother from whom you got your eyes and this extra skin between
your digits.”

“Yes. My grandmother who threw herself into the sea after my grandfather died.”

“Did they find her body?”

Suddenly chilled, Marianne snatched her hands back and rubbed her arms. “No, though
they searched. But a storm had come up. She just … disappeared.”

“What was her name?”

“Her name?” She’d always thought of her as Grandmamma. It took a minute of searching
through memories of her father’s stories to come up with Grandmamma’s given name. “I
believe she was called Ellyra.”

Jonah nodded. “Yes,” he whispered.

“Jonah, you are acting so strangely this morning. What is going on?”

“I met your grandmother once,” Jonah said. “Years ago, before she knew your
grandfather. Then I heard of her after….”

Marianne stared at him. “How could that be? She disappeared years ago, I was just a
child.”

“There are some things you should know about me, Marianne. Things that you and I have
in common.”

“Well, our eyes are the same color, of course. Many people share a common eye color.”

“All of my people have the same color eyes. Have you ever known of anyone but your
father and grandmother with this sea green eye color?”

“No. I mean, I never thought of it before.” Confusion had Marianne trying to stand, but
Jonah held her hands again.

“And the tiny webbing between your fingers and toes, Marianne. When my people are in
this form we all have the tiny vestigial webs.” He traced the delicate flesh, heat rose
through her at his touch. He stretched his fingers wide so that she could see the webbing
between his fingers.

“Jonah, you aren’t making sense.”

“My people live much longer than humans, Marianne, many hundreds of years.”

She laughed at that. “You make it sound like you are of a different race.”

He didn’t join her laughter. “A different species, in fact.” He paused. “As are you.”

She ripped her hands from his grasp and stood. “You shouldn’t say things like that,
Jonah. People will think you are quite mad.”

He stared at her. “What do you think?”

“I think you’ve had too much sun and not enough food.” She trembled when he simply
sat and stared at her. “Why did you make up such a tale?”

He drew some lines in the sand. “Do you remember the night of the shipwreck? You said
you saw me swimming towards you but I said that couldn’t be true, you must have
imagined it.”

Marianne rubbed at the back of her head. “Yes, I thought I saw you swimming towards
me quite as swiftly as the dolphins go in the water. But that’s not possible. You don’t
even like to get wet.”

“I told you that because I couldn’t have a regular human find out about me.”

“What do you mean?”

“If a human saw me in my true form I would never be able to transform again into the
shape you see me now.”

She stared at him, unable to decide if she should be afraid or not.

He went on. “Whenever I go into the sea I transform into my true shape, that of a
merman. My body breathes water. I swim with the swiftness of fishes. I am a prince in
my kingdom fathoms below the surface of the sea. But when I come back to land the only
way I can become human again is to use a great deal of my magic. It causes pain and loss
of consciousness.” He met her gaze with his own intensity. “Do you understand?”

Marianne thought of the mornings she had found him either barely dressed or completely
nude on the beach above the waves. She cast back in her mind to that night and to the
vision she had just before losing consciousness of the bald headed captain swimming to
her rescue, the imaginary image of a tail undulating behind him. He’d told her he hated
the water and couldn’t swim. He made her wade out into it and had watched her cavort in
it, but he had refused to join her.

He--no, what he was saying was impossible. To imply that she was similar to him,
madness.

She stepped back from him. “No, I don’t understand, Jonah. Either you are mad or you
are trying to put distance between us.” She waved her arms, distraught at either
possibility.

He stood and tried to hold her, but she stumbled away from him. “I don’t have much time
left, Marianne. I must return to my father’s kingdom before the next full moon or remain
as a human forever.”

She shook all over. “Why are you telling me this?” she whispered.

“I want you to come with me,” he said, closing the distance between them.

Unable to move, she allowed him to hold her. “Come with you?”

“Yes, be my consort. Become your true self, a mermaid of my kingdom.”

Hysterical laughter bubbled from her mouth as tears flowed down her cheeks. Sadness
caught her up in a dark storm. “You’re quite mad,” she gasped, too weak to pull away
from him.

The grim line of his mouth was a ghost of the lips that had kissed her into euphoric
tremors less than an hour ago. “I’m not mad,” he ground out. “Nor are you. What shall it
take to convince you?”

She pulled away and pushed the sweaty hair off her forehead. “Why, simply run into the
sea and become a fish,” she said and waved her hand.

He rubbed at his face. “If I’m wrong about you I’ll never be able to come back,” he said.

“Wait,” she said as he turned away. If he was mad, then maybe he couldn’t swim and
he’d drown.

He didn’t wait. He started jogging across the beach, tossing off the last remnants of
clothing as he went. At the edge of the waves he turned, gloriously naked and limned in
the white light that reflected off the sea.

“Wait,” she screamed, terror taking her by the throat as she ran towards him.

Before she could reach him, he took two leaping strides and dove into an approaching
wave.

“Jonah!” She moved into the waves as they broke around her knees. Beyond the crests
she saw his arms wave to her. His shiny pate glowed in the sun. She watched him dive
then saw a dolphin sized fish’s tail, gleaming with blue-green scales, flip out of the water
then splash down. Before he dove, she was certain she’d heard him say he’d be back.
Almost certain.

“Jonah?” she whispered and sat down where the waves met the sand.

The ocean moved. She heard the melodic singing of the dolphins.

He had left her. He’d transformed into a merman and left her alone. She sat there until the
tide turned, then crept up to the coals of the fire and wept.

* * * *

Running away from her and into the sea was the hardest thing Jonah had ever had to do.
Especially when he realized that before he returned to her he had to find out the truth
about her grandmother, Ellyra. He shouted to her over the waves but the desperation on
her face almost had him turning back. But without a sure answer, he couldn’t go to her
again, not yet.

He found the dolphins in their accustomed place and set them to watch Marianne. Sebast
was there, too. He set up an unholy shout when he saw Jonah.

“You have come to help me. I waited in case you changed your mind. Now we can take
vengeance together.” Sebast’s eyes glowed hot with the urgency of his emotion.

Jonah shook his head. “I must find the truth of a mermaid named Ellyra. Do you know of
her?”

“The only mermaid I have business with is Mestaline,” Sebast said.

Jonah considered his options. The Mer witch, Egrine, knew everything that happened in
his father’s realm though she lived in seclusion in a private dwelling behind his father’s
palace. Only the sea king or his heir had access to her wisdom. It was said that her magic
was older than Poseidon’s. She could tell him about Ellyra and about Marianne’s choices.
Perhaps she could help Sebast, too.

Time grew shorter with each passing hour. The moon would be full again soon and he
hated to leave Marianne alone and deserted. He made up his mind.

“Come on,” he said to Sebast.

“Where to?”

“Egrine will have the answers to both of our questions.”

“Your father would not let me ask of her, I had to come to my own conclusions about
Mestaline and the murder of my father.”

“I am heir to the throne, she will see me,” Jonah said. He swam away hoping that Sebast
would follow. He did.

Together they swam through the layers of water passing schools of smaller fish and the
bulk that made up larger fishes. Though they swam faster than dolphins it took them two
days of constant travel to reach the court of the sea king. News of their arrival preceded
them. They found an armed escort, led by a red-haired mermaid, waiting for them in front
of the portcullis of the castle.

It was Mestaline and from the way she waved the sharp trident in her hands, she wasn’t
happy to see them.

Chapter Ten

“Put down your weapon, Mestaline,” Jonah said as he swam up to the small group.

She changed her grip but did not release the trident. “Have you come back to claim your
inheritance and mate with me, or are you here to accuse me?”

“Someone sent a rogue wave that caused damage and hardship. Someone who hid behind
strong magic,” Jonah said. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

Her features relaxed and she nodded to her escort. “Leave us.” To Jonah, “Then you have
come to claim a consort. It will be me, of course.”

“Move aside, Mestaline. I have business with the Mer witch and time is running out.”

“Wait, you must choose a consort.” She moved to intercept him.

If he didn’t distract her he’d never get to talk to Egrine. “Not today. Sebast is
investigating the wave. You will speak with him.”

“Why?” She folded her arms across her chest.

Jonah’s patience ended. “I do not need to explain myself to you, maid,” he roared. “Move
aside.” Without waiting for her to move, he swam around her and into the castle.

He heard the rumble of Sebast’s baritone and Mestaline’s answering speech but did not
wait to understand the content of their conversation. Knowing their animosity towards
each other, it was no doubt unpleasant.

Myriad hallways branched away from the main hall much like a coral reef branched
within itself. And no wonder, the palace was created of living coral. Jonah paused at the
hall that would take him to his parent’s quarters. He decided to speak with them after he
consulted with the Mer witch. If his father knew of his plans he might try to stop Jonah
and Jonah had no time for further detours.

Further into the depths of the palace then out a back entrance Jonah swam. He passed
other mermen and mermaids along the way, but only nodded to them without stopping to
speak. Everything would have to wait until he discovered the truth about Marianne.

His heart beat rapidly in his chest as he approached the small cave-like structure hidden
behind a huge oyster shell. The Mer witch’s dwelling glowed with the mother of pearl of
which it was built. It glowed with the magic of the seer, too. The strength of it pulsed
through the water around the house. It thrummed through Jonah like the tide pulling him

closer. By the time he reached the opening he couldn’t have turned back if he’d wanted
to. The magic was a living thing, he could not resist it.

He put a hand to the side of the entry to steady himself. The smooth wall was warm and
pink.

“Come in, young prince,” a mellow, welcoming voice floated to him.

Whether he wanted to or not, Jonah was compelled to enter. Prince or not, he’d never
been in the Mer witch’s quarters before. Even the king needed an invitation. Indeed,
Jonah hadn’t really thought about how he would get an audience with her if she didn’t
invite him in. He just knew he’d have to find a way. But that was no longer a problem.
Now he wondered if he’d be able to leave when he wanted to. The magic was so strong
that he felt like he was swimming in it.

The inside of the cave was spacious but simply furnished with colorful creatures of the
deep. The movement and textures of the fishes and plants made for an ever changing
movement within. He had a hard time concentrating.

The melodious voice called to him again. “Join me,” it commanded. Jonah felt his body
propelled towards the back of the room.

Fluorescing plants lit this part of the room with a lavender light. Who it illuminated made
Jonah gasp. The mermaid that reclined on a bench of silver was as tiny as a doll that
human children played with. Tiny, but exquisitely featured. Her hair shone golden even
in the odd light and her face was pixyish with a mouth curved into a smile and blue eyes
that twinkled. Blue eyes, not the green of every merman and mermaid he had ever
known. Power radiated from her in waves that distorted the water like the speech of
whales.

There was no doubt that the power emanated from this creature.

“I’ve waited long for your visit,” she said. The water trembled around her in warm
ripples that caressed Jonah’s skin.

He couldn’t speak. If this mermaid knew all and heard all, then she already knew why he
was here.

She laughed and rose from the couch with a dainty flip of her emerald green tail. Her
movement released him from whatever force had held him still.

“Ask your question, Prince, even though I already know it. Ask anyway,” she said. A tiny
frown marred her perfect face.

“Is Marianne … you know of whom I speak?”

She nodded.

“Was the mermaid, Ellyra, her grandmother?”

“Yes, ‘tis ever a sad tale when a mermaid falls in love with a human.” She caressed a
lustrous black pearl that lay in a bowl of sand.

“I’ve always been told that mer-people and humans could not have a child together, yet
Ellyra bore a son who is Marianne’s father.”

“And she paid a heavy price for it.” Egrine moved both hands over the sphere again. “In
order to fulfill the desire to bear his child, she paid in the magic of her immortality.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Magic has a price. You pay in pain every time you transform into a human. She paid a
price for both herself and her child so that they could both have children with humans.”

“With what did she pay?”

“Look.” She gestured to the pearl.

Jonah swam closer and stared at the surface of the pearl. A glow started from within. He
saw a beautiful human woman with a face much like Marianne’s. She was weeping and
stumbling across a beach. When she reached the waves, she dove in and became the
mermaid again. He understood that this was Ellyra.

“Marianne told me that she disappeared in the ocean after her mate died. So she returned
here?”

Yes, but look again, Prince.”

Jonah stared into the pearl again. This time he saw Ellyra swimming. With each stroke
she aged. By the time he saw her approach the gates to his father’s palace, she had
withered. Her hair had turned silver, her gleaming green tail had become a dull, thin
stump. Her arms had lost their strength. The only thing still recognizable about her was
the beauty of her sad face.

“She died?” Jonah asked, amazed. Mer-people were close to immortal. Even ancient ones
kept their vigor and strength. He’d never seen one age as Ellyra had, the way a human
would.

The Mer witch nodded. “Her price for love was her life. She agreed to it, she wanted it,
and in the end that’s what she got. A handful of human years followed by a death none of
our people had ever chosen.”

Mer-lore spoke of mermaids and mermen who had taken human lovers, but none had
paid such a price. The lust with which mer-folk lived, with few exceptions, made the kind
of devotion and sacrifice that Ellyra had exhibited nearly unknown. How could this be
explained?

“By love,” Egrine answered his unspoken question. “What have you learned of this
human emotion during your time above the waves?”

Jonah rubbed a hand over his head. “It’s the most perplexing of emotions, causing the
humans to enact great acts of both sacrifice and betrayal.”

She nodded. “Ellyra found a way not only to understand it, but to experience it.”

“But the price….” Jonah waved a hand at the glistening dark surface of the pearl.

“Yes, the price.”

A shadow passed overhead. Through an opening Jonah saw a giant squid swim by. Time
was passing. He opened his mouth to speak, but the Mer witch pre-empted him.

“There is a choice you must make, Jonah. You are heir to this kingdom and your time on
the surface of this world is almost over.”

“The choice is not mine to make,” he said. “If Marianne is part mermaid, then does she
not have her own magic? Has she not the ability to become one of us and join me here?”

The Mer witch stared at him, her face clouding with concentration. “Why would you
have her do that?”

“Because I would have her for my consort.”

She flipped her tail. “You have any number of willing maids already. Mestaline is your
father’s choice. Again, I ask you, Jonah, Prince of the Sea, why Marianne?”

Heat broke the surface of his body and warmed the sea around him as he considered her
question. He didn’t know how to answer her. He just knew that years of immortality
without Marianne stretched like a void before him.

Egrine stared at him, her sapphire eyes glowing as if she could see his thoughts and his
heart. At once she nodded then swam back to her pearl. After a caress or two, faint shapes
began to take form within it. She gasped and swam back, her hand to her chest. Her hair
floated like agitated eels around her head.

Jonah put out a hand to help her then yanked it away as he felt an electrical charge zap
through him. “What was that?”

“The unexpected,” she murmured. “A new experience for me.” She turned to face him,
composed one more. “The choice remains yours, Prince.”

“No, Marianne may choose of her own free will.”

“Yes, she may, but the babe within her is unable to choose.”

“The babe?”

* * * *

Marianne stumbled through the next several days hardly aware of her surroundings. She
couldn’t get over the fact that Jonah had left her. After a while she wondered if he had
ever been with her at all. Perhaps she’d made it all up in her head; perhaps the shipwreck
had made her mad, caused her to lose her mind.

When hunger clawed at her belly she made an effort to pull mussels at low tide. She
heard the dolphins laughing and playing beyond the breakers and even went so far as to
cast off her clothing to swim, but was unable to enjoy the water.

It might have something to do with Jonah’s incredible revelation that he was a merman
and he thought her grandmother had been a mermaid. It was more than incredible, it was
patently unbelievable.

All she had of him were the remnants of his clothes. She kept them as a reminder that she
hadn’t dreamed him up. They’d been lovers and she held those memories close.

As she gazed up at the stars on the third night without him she wondered if she’d really
seen him change into a creature with a tail or had it been something else. She was certain
he’d yelled something to her before he’d disappeared. In fact, she preferred to think that
he had turned into a merman and swum away. That was better than imagining him dead,
drowned and lying on the sea floor, or worse, to find his bloated body washed up by the
tide.

Yes, much better to think of him as a mythical creature that lived in the sea.

She considered the webbing between her fingers and toes. It was something that she’d
always had and had shared with her father, not anything unusual. When attending parties
before she was wed and after in the society of Nantucket she’d often worn gloves, a
social convention, so that her fingers, and never her toes, had rarely been scrutinized.

A deep welling up of sadness filled her yet again. It had come and gone less frequently
today than the past two days, but Marianne ached with the grief of missing Jonah. She
had never been so alone, deserted, bereft.

She left the fire glowing and meandered in the light of the waxing moon to the water’s
edge. The sea was flat calm tonight. She heard the distant flap of something slapping at
the water. Her heart pounded heavy in her chest. Could it be Jonah returning?

The cackle of a dolphin’s voice reached her. It almost made sense to her. She strained to
understand it but let it go, just as she let go the hope that Jonah would come back. If he
was truly a merman then surely he had returned to his place in the sea. And if he wasn’t,
then he wouldn’t be returning anywhere.

That left her with few options. In the morning she’d find more wood and build a huge
fire, a smoky mess by day and a glowing bonfire by night. With any luck she’d attract
some kind of sailing vessel that would pick her up. With even more luck, it would be on
the way to the Caribbean.

“Find a ship to send to me,” she shouted out loud, startled at the sound of her own voice.

A dolphin seemed to answer with a chirping clatter. She saw the silhouette of it rising up
against the starlit sea before slapping down and leaving nothing more than ever
expanding rings in its wake.

“I’ll believe in anything if that dolphin actually does send a ship here,” she said. Then she
thought she’d better stop talking to herself. When she did get rescued they would think
her a mad curiosity.

Fanciful dreams of an underwater kingdom flitted through her sleep. She woke with what
was becoming a recognized pang of despair. Today she threw off the depression and
moved with a purpose. Slipping a pair of bark footwear onto her feet she spent hours in
the forest finding every downed bit of burnable wood, brush, and leaves and hauling it to
her tiny camp. She scoured the beach for driftwood. She allowed herself only positive
thoughts as she washed in the spring and dug roots to eat.

As the sun sank, sending a hopeful glow across the horizon, she built up the fire until the
flames reached into the sky three times taller than she. The power and heat of the bonfire
scared her a little, then she thought the hell with it and threw more wood in. She had
nothing to lose.

She spent the night stoking the fire. In the morning she let it burn down then started
putting greenery on it to make a dark smoke. By the end of the day her eyes were
smarting and soot covered her from head to toe. She made one more trek into the forest
for wood to last through the night.

As she dropped the final armload and sank to the ground a movement on the horizon
caught her eyes. She stared then ran towards the water. Holding a hand over her eyes
against the glare she squinted.

A sail, the outline of a ship, and coming towards her with laughter and leaping
playfulness, a dolphin swam against the tide leading the ship to her.

Chapter Eleven

The captain’s wife tut-tutted in a motherly way as she helped Marianne bathe and found a
spare dress for her to wear. The folds of heavy cloth weighed her down after the days of
only her shift or nothing at all. Captain Jamison listened to her story kindly and wrote it
all down in the ship’s log.

“Have you had any word of Poseidon ’s crew, captain? It would be cruel if Captain
McAdams and I were the only survivors,” Marianne asked, remembering the first mate
and crew with the fondness of sympathetic memory.

“Aye, we picked up several men who were hanging onto barrels and spars. Let me see.”
He flipped a page back in his log. “Yes, a seven-day ago. It was remarkable, their
surviving such a wave as they spoke of. We took them to Charleston, supplied for this
trip, and then it was as if the dolphin was leading us to you.”

“Do you often follow dolphins, Captain?”

His eyes twinkled. “I’ve been at sea almost thirty years and seen many a strange sight.
Following a dolphin has never steered me wrong yet. Nor this time, either.” He scratched
his neat gray beard. “Too bad about McAdams, though. He’s got a reputation. I would
have liked to meet the man.”

A pain stabbed through Marianne’s chest. She rubbed at it and blinked back tears.

After a moment, Captain Jamison asked, “Do you still intend to go to Jamaica?”

“Yes.” If Jonah was alive, perhaps he’d have the good sense to look for her there. Unless
he really was a merman prince.

Captain Jamison patted her shoulder. “Tis a lucky day for you, lass. With a good breeze
we’ll drop anchor in Kingstown harbor in naught but a week.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Marianne replied.

Her heart felt like a lead weight in her chest as she watched the ship’s crew roll barrels of
fresh water from the island spring onto the landing boats and back out to the Hesperus .
All she had left of the island and of Jonah, besides his ragged clothing, was a fierce
burning belief that he couldn’t be dead or she’d know it in her heart.

As the island sank below the horizon, a dolphin, perhaps even the same creature who had
heralded her rescuers, swam alongside the ship. It sported in the waves that flowed from
the sides of the quickening vessel.

“If he is alive,” Marianne said to it, “I wish you could find him and tell him that I’m
safe.”

The dolphin’s grinning face turned a large intelligent eye towards her. She believed for a
shocked moment that it actually nodded before leaping away and swimming off. A pod of
its kin took escort duty along both sides of the ship and Marianne was aware of their
company every time she stood at the rail.

The sounds of the ship and the voices of those around her were strange to her ears after
the days on the island with only Jonah to speak with. She took her meals with the captain
and his wife but spent many hours alone watching the waves, hoping that somehow
Jonah’s impossible story was true.

At night she watched the moon rise and noted how it was growing towards full. She
remembered that Jonah had told her that he must return to his home under the sea before
the moon reached its fullest state this month or he would never be able to return. If she
was to see him again, time was running out.

The Hesperus dropped anchor in Kingstown harbor on the morning that Marianne knew
that moon would be at its fullest. Her heart ached even as she felt pleasure in the sights
and sounds and smells of the busy docks of the island she knew as home.

A lighter rowed to the ship. The man who leaped aboard the Hesperus moved with grace,
his graying hair and sea green eyes marked him. “Marianne,” he shouted when he caught
sight of her.

“Papa!” She couldn’t hold the tears back when he caught her into his arms.

When she could speak again, she asked, “How did you know I’d be aboard? Did my
messages reach you so soon?”

“Just yesterday I heard from the bank and Nantucket Whaling. I’m sorry for your loss,
my dear.”

They were sitting on two barrels away from the bustle of the crew unloading cargo. The
sun shone in Marianne’s eyes as she gazed at her father’s familiar face. “How did you
know I’d be aboard this vessel? The ship I originally boarded in Nantucket went down at
sea.”

“I know,” he said and looked away. “Let’s talk about that later. Come on, I’ve got a
house in the harbor now.”

“You told me once that you couldn’t bear to leave the mountains.” Surprise had her
smiling for the first time in days.

“I changed my mind,” was all he would say.

She made her thanks and farewells to Captain Jamison and his wife. Her father invited
them to dinner that night as a small measure of appreciation for rescuing her then he took
her to his spacious house that overlooked the harbor.

It was a lovely view, she thought later. It was after dinner and the Jamisons had returned
to the Hesperus so that they would be ready to lift anchor with the morning tide.

The moon, full and brilliant, shone a light she could have read by over the land and sea
turning everything into silver and shadows. Melancholy held her motionless as she
watched. A knock on her door startled her.

“Come,” she said, turning away from the balcony.

Her father came into the room. “Shall we walk?”

“In the night?” He’d never been one for such things.

“Yes, in the moonlight on the beach.”

She shrugged in denial of the skittering of her heart. They walked down the wooden stairs
that led to the beach in silence. Once on the sand, Marianne removed her shoes and
stockings. The coolness of the grains soothed her tired feet. Her father removed his
footwear as well, an action that again shocked Marianne.

“Are you my father?” she demanded.

He laughed. “Of course. Why ask?”

“My father would have been shocked to see me in bare feet and would have demanded I
dress more appropriately. He would rather have died than be seen walking the beach
without shoes on himself.”

He looked at her with a quiet expectancy. Then he took her hand and walked with her
down the beach. The moon lit a path for them. “Your father under went a … a sea change
after you left. I examined my life and the decisions that I had made. I didn’t like being
lonely on top of my high mountain when everyone I loved had gone away, either over the
sea or under it.”

“So you came here, to the shore.”

“Yes, so I could walk the beach and hear the waves, and listen for the sounds of the
dolphins.”

“The dolphins?”

“They bring news.”

Her breath shortened. Ahead of them, within the silver pathway of moonlight, Marianne
spied a long object. It had the form of a man.

“Oh.” She stopped short. Hope flared within her. It couldn’t be, could it? She let go of
her father’s hand and ran towards it.

* * * *

Egrine tried to stop him, as did Sebast, Mestaline, even his father, but Jonah sped away
from his father’s kingdom as if pursued by a school of thresher sharks. All he could think
was that he had to reach Marianne before the deadline, before the next full moon. He had
less than a fortnight to talk to her, decide what to do.

A babe? Then she must be of the Mer, as the Mer witch had confirmed. Marianne would
find it hard to believe, but it was surely a blessing. She’d said that her inability to have a
child had caused a rift between her and her late husband’s family. He grinned as he
acknowledged his part in impregnating her. He was to be a father.

The wind and tides worked against him as Jonah swam back towards the island. He
struggled against the currents until he finally managed to find their beach. It was mid
morning, nothing stirred on shore.

“Marianne,” he called from the waves.

Only the sounds of the wind in the trees, the crash of the waves in their high tide dance,
met his ears.

She must be at the spring, he thought, or perhaps still asleep. If he transformed back into
his human form, he’d be unconscious for hours. It didn’t matter; he’d be with her again.

As he flopped himself onto the beach something nudged his feet. A dolphin broke the
surface of the water just as Jonah spoke the magic words and the pain knifed through him
at the same time that panic took him. She was gone.

This time there was no shade, no gentle arms to guide him back to consciousness. Only
the relentless sun and the grit of coarse sand greeted him when Jonah finally awoke. His
body ached as it always did, but this time as he sat and surveyed the deserted beach, his
heart ached, too. He felt the emptiness of the silence and acknowledged the last words
he’d heard from the dolphin.

A crab skittered across his bare legs. He pounded his fists against the sand, frustration
and fear nearly doubling him over. The dolphin called to him from the waves. At first
Jonah refused to listen, he wanted nothing more than to sink down in despair, his first and
last chance of happiness in his long life now gone. But the dolphin would not stop
chattering away and at last its words started to make sense to Jonah.

A ship, the dolphin had brought a ship to Marianne. The ship had taken her away. Yes,
Jonah could well imagine it. In the soft sand he saw the indentations of many pairs of
feet. He struggled to stand, dizziness made him sway but he forced himself to find his
way to the spring. In the mud at its edge he found the marks of heavy objects and
surmised that the crew had taken on water.

He prayed that the crew was captained by a man of honor who would protect Marianne
from the baser instincts of some of the seamen he had known.

Refreshed from the cool water and shadowed woods, Jonah made his way back to the
ashes of their last fire. He noticed that the remnants of many logs lay there. They were
warm to his touch. It couldn’t have been more than a twelve hours since the ship had
departed, could it?

He swayed again as he made his way to the edge of the water. Determined to find her,
even if he couldn’t have her, he dove into the waves. The transformation drained him
even more this time. Usually returning to his Mer form brought him relief and energy.
This time he was exhausted.

A whistle and a ticking chatter accompanied another nudge. The dolphin swam before
him, its mouth obscured by a large snapper. Grateful, Jonah ate. As he ate, the dolphin
relayed Marianne’s message, that she was safe. Relief washed through Jonah as his
energy returned.

“Do you know where they go?” he asked.

The dolphin nodded and turned to lead the way.

“Will I get there in time?”

The dolphin turned back and offered Jonah his dorsal fin to hold onto. Thus carried,
Jonah and the dolphin sped into the deep.

It was all Jonah could do to hold on. Though he could swim as fast as any dolphin, even
at full strength he had not their stamina for long distance travel. He heard his friend call
to other members of his kind and realized the dolphins were setting up a relay to carry
him onward. When he felt one dolphin tire, another would come alongside so that Jonah
could transfer his grip and get a fresh spurt of speed.

Against the currents and against time they raced. Each night Jonah watched the moon rise
and set, each night it grew more full bodied, each night he grew stronger and aided the
dolphins in their marathon with the sea.

The night of the full moon was upon them. They’d reached the island at last. A full pod
of dolphins escorted his final carrier. As the eastern sky silvered in anticipation of

moonrise the dolphin nosed Jonah out of the sea. It danced backwards on its tail before
executing a remarkable flip that landed it back into the water.

Jonah lay on the beach. If he transformed into a human now, he’d never be able to return
to his people.

He thought of his father and mother, of Sebast and Mestaline, of his friends and the
creatures that he loved.

Love, he thought, it had transformed him from a simple Mer prince into something quite
different. He knew that if he returned to the sea he’d never have the love that he’d found
with Marianne because his people didn’t understand the richness of the emotion.

Love, help me now, he thought. Then he said the magic words as the first silver rays
touched him. He braced himself for the agony, but this time he felt soft warmth as his tail
split for the last time. His gills closed and his lungs breathed air.

The dolphins sang a song of farewell.

He lay on the sand, unable to move, until he heard the soft sounds of bare feet rushing
towards him. He rolled onto his back and looked into a familiar pair of sea green eyes.

Marianne had found him. He was home.

The End

Note to Readers:

In creating this first story of the Mer Kingdom I realize that I left many of you with
questions about what happened to Mestaline, Sebast, and even Egrine after Jonah left.
This is the first in a series of longer stories, a taste, if you will, of a fantasy world that
came to life as I wrote Jonah and Marianne’s story. I hope you’ll keep a weather eye out
for more stories set in this rich world.

While you’re waiting, you might enjoy my other romances that include a touch of the
unexpected. The following titles can all be ordered from New Concepts Publishing,

www.newconceptspublishing.com

: Virtual Heart , Entangled , The Talisman , Melodi’s

Tune

, and Nicked by Eros . My contemporary romantic comedy, The Commitment , is

also available.

Happy reading!

Karin Huxman

THE LADY OF THE LOCH

By

Taylor Manning

Chapter One

Aeryn cocked her head and listened. There it was again. The pitiable sound carried such
unmistakable need that Aeryn felt her heart tug in sympathy. It was a heart-call--one
heart to another--and it came from the rushes at the edge of the loch. Stepping gingerly
forward, she pushed aside first one clump of reeds, then another, moving slowly, looking
down, seeking the source of the call.

"Did you find it?" Nib asked, following close behind her, his breath hot on her neck.

"I think it is farther this way." Aeryn swept aside another stand of rushes and peered
down at the marshy ground.

Her hand flew to her breast and she gasped.

"Well? What is it?" Nib shoved his long nose over her shoulder to get a closer look. "I’m
hungry. Is it something to eat?"

"Oh no, my dear Nib, you dinna want to eat this."

Nib leaned further forward, flopping his horsy mane into her face, and stared down.
"Why ... it’s a...."

Aeryn brushed Nib’s mane out of her eyes and said, "Yes. It’s a bairn." She smiled as the
babe, wrapped in a bright new tartan of black and forest green, ceased its mewling and
looked up at her with huge emerald eyes.

"Hello, wee one," she cooed. "What are you doing here on my loch?"

"Are you sure I canna eat it?" Nib smacked his lips.

Aeryn turned and scowled at her kelpie friend. "No, Nib. You willna eat the human baby.
Its heart called to mine. Obviously it was put here for me to find, so I shall take it in, just
as do all the other ladies of the loch."

Returning her gaze to the child, she felt her heart settle into a warm glow. "I will foster
this child as if it were my own."

Nib’s nostrils flared as he blew out a sound of disgust. "Dinna matter. Bairns upset my
stomach anyway."

Aeryn ignored her waterhorse friend and reached down for the plaid-swaddled bundle.

As she lifted him into her arms she could tell by its weight that the babe was not
newborn, but how old was it? She had no idea how to judge such things, for her mother
had not taught her much about caring for a child, fey or human.

As the child seized onto her finger and pulled it into his mouth, she realized there was
one thing she did know.

"Nib, I need a goat. Quickly."

* * * *

A wail of pure anguish echoed off the keep’s stone walls and reached into the marrow of
Leith MacEwan’s bones. He shivered and leapt to his feet, his hand instinctively flying to
the hilt of his broadsword.

All the men of Niall Campbell’s clan who had been lounging before the fire in the great
hall did the same, each spinning around to face the source of the cry.

The wail came from the laird’s wife as she stumbled down the staircase from above.
MacEwan watched as Campbell ran to her side and the woman flung herself into his
arms.

"He is gone. My babe...." she wailed as she collapsed.

Campbell’s face paled as he pulled her up and held her firmly by the shoulders. "Ellen,
who is gone?"

"Malcolm." She covered her face with her hands and her wailing grew louder.

MacEwan took in the scene, trying to make sense of it all. Malcolm. That was the name
of Campbell’s new son by this, his second wife. The bairn was the long-awaited son
needed to ensure Clan Campbell’s future. If something had happened to him....

MacEwan forced the thought away as he broke into a run, following the laird who had
loosed his hold on his wife and flown up the castle stairs.

Taking the stairs two at a time, MacEwan's mind sifted through the possibilities. The
babe could be with his nurse somewhere else in the keep. Yet the anguished wailing
continued, convincing him even as he tried to dispel the feeling, that indeed something
dire had happened.

The bairn had been stolen?

Or worse?

He and Campbell reached the nursery a moment later, immediately followed by the rest
of the men of the clan. Even to MacEwan, completely unfamiliar with nurseries, the room
seemed desolate, as though the walls themselves had a terrible story to tell.

Campbell stumbled to the cradle and MacEwan didn’t have to look to know no bairn lay
there, for Campbell fell to his knees and slammed his clenched fist against the stone
floor.

" Cruachan !" The battle cry of Clan Campbell echoed through the empty chamber.

MacEwan approached the anguished man and laid a hand on his shoulder. "We will find
who did this."

"Yea, and should any harm come to my boy, the villain shall pay in kind."

The words were uttered through gritted teeth and MacEwan knew there would be Hell to
pay.

"What is it? What has happened?"

The woman’s voice came from behind him and MacEwan turned in time to see a lass
with unbound flaming red hair push past the Campbell men, then him, to reach the laird’s
side.

Guessing this was Campbell’s daughter, Tyra, the one he had been sent to wed, he
allowed himself a moment to inspect the lass with whom he was to ally the MacEwans of
Otter.

Her face was comely enough, with curved full lips and eyes of purest blue. She stood tall
and slender, yet with a roundness of breast and loin that promised comfort in bedding.
That thought took on a life of its own as he pictured the long legs hidden beneath her
gown and what lay between them.

He swallowed hard.

Feeling guilty for letting his lustier musings get in the way of the missing bairn,
MacEwan pulled his attention back to the matter at hand as Campbell looked up at his
daughter.

"The bairn is gone," the laird told the lass.

Tyra’s blue eyes widened and MacEwan swallowed again. Would they widen so when
he...? He squashed the thought.

"He is gone? Where? Who?"

Even knowing his offer for the girl’s hand had not yet been accepted, MacEwan felt
responsibility to the family he expected to be joined to his own. The missing child would
become his brother, and in time, his ally.

"I shall find the child," MacEwan said.

Campbell’s gaze shot to MacEwan’s face as the older man struggled to gain his feet.

"Nay, you are a guest in my home. ‘Tis my place to find my son."

MacEwan nodded. "Yea, but you canna do it alone. I am the best of Clan MacEwan’s
trackers. If the villain who stole your bairn left this keep on foot, I can follow him."

With sorrow-filled eyes, Campbell studied him for a moment, then nodded. "I thank you,
MacEwan. And if you find my son, I will grant you my daughter’s hand in marriage as
you have asked."

"What?"

Both men turned toward Tyra. "Will I have no say in this? Am I a horse or a sword to be
given as a prize?"

MacEwan was taken aback by the strange reaction of the lass whose brother, the future
laird of her clan, was missing. But he thought her next reaction even stranger when she
looked him up and down as if he were a prized bull for sale. He felt his nether parts
instinctively respond to her gaze, and gave a silent sigh of relief when she turned back to
her father and nodded.

"I agree. If he finds my brother, I will marry him."

Her forthrightness made MacEwan smile in spite of himself. He wouldna mind getting to
know the strong-willed lass better, but not now. Time was wasting. He needed to work,
and quickly, if the babe were to be found.

"When was the last time you saw the bairn?" he asked Tyra.

"Yestreen eve. I helped his mother put him to bed."

MacEwan nodded. The weeping of the grief-stricken lady still echoed throughout the
keep.

"I would speak with her, then the rest of the household, and quickly. We must learn when
the child was last seen."

Hours later, as the sun rose, and having gained no valuable information from the mother,
the nurse, or any of the others, MacEwan stepped out of the despair of the keep into the

fresh spring air. While Campbell organized the search of the chambers inside, he would
begin the hunt outside.

Having only arrived after nightfall the day before, MacEwan had not been able to
appreciate the beauty of Campbell’s keep. The grand house sat up on a hillside, a good
defensible position, but well up from the stout protective wall. The view from the top step
reached far beyond, and MacEwan took in the dew-sprinkled glory of the surroundings.

To the north, mists veiled high ridges around. To the east, meadows and fields stood
ready for planting, while to the south lay Loch Bemis, its glassy surface reflecting the
sun’s soft yellow rays. Like a long looking glass, it mirrored the images of the trees and
rushes skirting its western shore, giving the impression of a mystical underwater realm.
His fancy imagined a whole world beneath the wind-tickled waters of the loch, where the
fey carried on their lives just as did ground-dwellers above.

But he had no time for such idle fancies. Shaking off his reverie, MacEwan moved down
the steps and into the courtyard. A light rain had turned the dust of the night before into
mud, just now beginning to dry in the morning sun.

He allowed a grim smile to turn the corners of his lips. This would be easier than he had
thought.

Many sets of footprints had stirred the muck, some of shoes, some of cuarans , and some
of bare feet. He followed each, one by one, and was beginning to despair when at last he
came across a set which led in an unexpected direction--toward the sheer face of the outer
wall.

The footprints led him to an almost hidden postern gate. Surely these were the footprints
of someone from the keep, for strangers would nae be told the location of the small
opening in the protective wall.

Passing through the gate he let the tracks lead him on.

Toward the loch.

Unease made his skin crawl and a brooding darkness fell over him. A bairn and the cold
waters of the loch were a frightening combination.

His anxiety grew as the footprints neared the spongy ground. The villain had carried the
bairn to the loch. Then what? Tossed him in to drown? A cold temper seeped through
him.

No. The prints suddenly turned and moved along the shore into the rushes. He loosed a
sigh as hope returned that he would find the child alive.

Pushing his way into the reedy growth, he easily followed the trail until....

He stopped short. Before him lay a trampled mass of broken rushes. And there, hoof
marks. Bending down, he looked closely at the prints slowly filling with water. Beside
them lay another set of prints. Smaller than those he had been following.

A conspirator? On horseback?

The sound of a horse’s whinny snapped him erect.

There, in the bracken not a stone’s throw ahead, stood a sleek stallion with a coat more
lustrous and mane more flowing than any he had ever seen. The huge beast was as black
as the devil and from the way he pranced, more wicked.

As MacEwan watched, spellbound by its beauty, the stallion reared and clove the air with
its massive hooves then galloped off, tail held high.

Only then did MacEwan see the willowy form that had been standing beside it. An
involuntary gasp escaped his lips. It was a woman of unearthly beauty. Unbound blonde
hair cascaded to her knees, a snow-white gown rippled like air around her willowy form,
and her face glowed with what could only be enchantment. Then he heard her shout.

"Hurry, Nib. The bairn is near to chewing my finger off."

Chapter Two

"You there!"

Aeryn turned at the call and for the second time that day lost her breath.

A braw Highlander--shoulders draped in a bold plaid, his hand gripping the sword at his
side--glared at her. His long hair glinted burnished gold in the morning sun and the planes
of his face caught the light, outlining the squareness of his jaw. She let her gaze take in
his broad shoulders, narrow waist nipped in by his sword belt, and long legs, spread wide
in a fighter’s stance. Though he looked ready for battle, she could not help the flush of
desire that swept through her. Never had she seen such a glorious warrior.

It took her but a moment to realize that he returned her stare. Could he find her as
alluring as she did him?

"Put down the bairn. Now."

The force of his command made her take a step backward. He was not interested in her,
but in what she carried. She felt the flush of what had been fascination change to one of
anger. How dare he issue such a command to her?

"No. He is mine."

"He is the son of the Campbell."

She frowned. "The Campbell?"

The man raised one fine gold eyebrow in disbelief. "You stand on his land."

She couldn’t stop the smile that formed on her lips. "His land? I dinna think so. I am on
my land. And this is my loch and this is my child." She waved her free hand in the air,
dismissing him. "Now be gone."

Instead of leaving the warrior began to stride toward her.

"If you willna surrender the bairn, I shall take him from you."

Aeryn grinned at the handsome, foolish man. He knew not with whom he dealt. "I dinna
think so, warrior."

"I tell you, he is a chieftain’s son. He wears the Campbell tartan."

"Nonsense. Chieftains dinna leave their feckless bairns lying about in marsh grass."

"He was stolen from the keep."

She narrowed her eyes. "How do I know you did not steal him yourself?" Ignoring his
outraged sputter, she added, "In any case, your chieftain doesna deserve to have him
back. Never fear, warrior, I shall take much better care of him than your Campbell."

"I willna tell you again, woman. Give me the child."

He was near enough now that she could see real purpose in his glare. His huge size did
not alarm her or his murderous aspect. But the broadsword he’d pulled from his belt did
give her pause. She did not want to argue with the warrior with the bairn at her breast.
Best she return home quickly.

She moved toward the loch.

"Stop! Dinna go further."

The warrior had stopped, but that did not mean she was about to. She continued toward
the water’s edge, calling over her shoulder, "Fear not, handsome one. The wee bairn is
safe with me."

She stepped onto the smooth surface of the loch’s waters, glancing back at him to see his
reaction as she glided on the water toward the center of the loch. She giggled. Ground-
dwellers always acted so when her people walked on water.

"Nay!" He ran to the shoreline and Aeryn couldn’t help but notice his abrupt halt at the
water’s edge. His eyes--she could see them clearly now, as murky blue as her loch--
darted from the water to her and back again.

"You fear going into the deep, braw warrior?"

Though he glared fiercely, she could still see the fear, and what looked like confusion, in
his expression.

"What are you that you can walk on water?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

"I, foolish warrior, am the lady of this loch."

Aeryn had to grin, thoroughly enjoying the slack-jawed expression on his face as she
called forth the waters to swirl around her and take her home, far beneath the surface.

* * * *

She had walked on the water.

Even as MacEwan’s mind formed the thought, he rejected it. It was not possible. No one
could walk on water.

He continued to watch in disbelief as she waved an arm and the water responded, forming
a swirling vortex beneath her feet. Then she disappeared into it.

With the bairn!

"Wait!" He lurched after her but jerked back as his feet sank into mud and the frigid
water lapped at his ankles.

"Ayyy!" Fear choked him, making him feel as though the water had already closed over
his head. He backed further away from the watery grave. He could not follow.

But he must! He must rescue the bairn. He only had moments to act. He must go into the
water. He could not let the bairn die.

Even as his mind made the decision, his feet froze, rooted to the ground. The dry ground.
The dry, safe ground.

Gritting his teeth until his jaw ached, he whispered to himself, "I willna be ruled by fear."
Before he could think more he ripped his heavy belt from his waist, dropped his plaid to
the ground, and dove headlong into the water.

The moment the water closed over his head MacEwan felt the panic explode. He flailed.
His lungs ached for air. He couldn’t do this. He had to get back on land before he died.
He clawed, trying to rise, all the while, inside, hating himself for his cowardice.

Striving mightily to reach the surface, he pulled himself as he had seen others do, those
who could actually swim. But the water only darkened around him until he was
surrounded by a moonless night.

Was he going further down?

Flailing harder, he struggled to control the panic, but it blossomed to full flower. He had
no control, no strength to combat this terror. His heart pounded in desperate fear and his
lungs felt about to burst.

Against his will, his aching lungs released their stale air and gasped for more, but there
was none. Like a fish he took water into his lungs.

Then a strange calm settled over his mind.

So this was what it was to die.

With a serenity he had rarely known, he let his burning eyes close for the last time as he
thought his way through the Pater Noster and felt himself gathered into the hands of the
Lord.

Chapter Three

Aeryn dragged the handsome warrior to the dry floor of her grotto. She had barely gotten
to him in time. Foolish man. ‘Twould be a pity if he drowned. He was too handsome to
die so young.

She turned him onto his side and smacked him smartly on the spine, then waited for him
to reject the water in his lungs.

But he did not.

Rolling him over to his stomach she straddled him, settling her hands on his lower back
and pushing upward. Were she not trying to save the warrior’s life, she would have taken
time to admire the rippling muscles of the back on which she pushed and the hard bottom
on which she perched. But until he expelled the loch water and took a breath of air into
his lungs, she forced herself to ignore the sensations his body aroused in her.

Still he would not breathe.

Her anxiety began to grow.

She put her full weight into the next push and was rewarded with a deep cough.

With a sigh of relief she dismounted and sat back on her heels as he rolled to his side and
a bout of coughing racked his shoulders.

Soon his lungs were clear of the loch’s water and his breath came more easily.

After a moment his clear blue eyes gazed up at her and she felt her heart clench in an
unfamiliar sensation. Unfamiliar, but very pleasant.

"Where is the child?" he croaked at her.

Aeryn had to smile. "And here I thought you had thrown yourself into the loch in despair
at losing me, yet now I find you only followed to take the child?" She arched him a sly
glance. "Perhaps I should have left you to sink to the bottom and become a meal for the
fish."

"You pulled me from the water?" His tone clearly indicated disbelief, though as his
glance scathed over her, shards of delight skittered along her skin.

He snorted. "You couldna have pulled me ashore."

"Of course I dinna pull you to the shore. I pulled you down here, to my grotto. Though it
was a wee bit difficult to get you up onto dry ground."

He stared at her as though she spoke the language of the fairies to him. Then his lovely
eyes darted around. She followed his gaze as it moved through the grotto.

They were in her great hall, a chamber fifty cubits long and fifteen cubits wide, filled
with cave formations of shimmering translucent green and blue. To the right was a sheet
of stone that she loved, for it seemed to flow from the ceiling like a great curtain of liquid
rock. The fire lay to the left, and further back was a central pool fed by spring water--her
bath. She sighed. The grotto was a wonderland of beauty that even a ground-dweller
should appreciate.

"Where have you brought me?"

She snorted. "I already told you. We are in my grotto. Under the loch."

"There is no entrance."

Aeryn laughed. How silly humans were. If it sat not in their sight, they did not believe it
existed.

"The opening lies there." She pointed to a place where the cave wall met the water’s
edge.

He scowled. "Very well. I shall leave the way I came. Give me the child and tell me how
to get out of this hole."

Her back stiffened and she crossed her arms over her breasts. She couldn’t help but notice
the hardness of her nipples as her forearms brushed against them. The sensation almost,
but not quite, distracted her from his words.

"Hole? You call my home a hole, sir? I will have you know that this cave is even more
beautiful than my mother’s Cave of Skulls, or my aunt’s at Dundiggin and--"

The handsome one tipped his head, sending a long lock of wet hair across his forehead.
He swiped it back.

"My apologies, lady. It is indeed a fine cave, as caves go. However my order has yet to
be obeyed. Tell me where you have put the bairn and how to get out of here."

Aeryn smiled. She could not resist the urge to spar with him. "That is the second time you
have threatened me, handsome one. Do you not recall what happened the first time?"

Just then a mewling cry from the makeshift cradle made him glance in that direction.

He leapt to his feet and dashed to the cradle before she was able to stop him. He scooped
up her treasure.

"God’s eyes!" he shouted.

Aeryn was by his side and caught the bairn just as the shocked warrior dropped him.

"Ah-ooo-ick!" She almost dropped the babe herself.

How could she have forgotten how messy children could be?

The handsome one took a step backward and said, "Clean the bairn and I will return him
to his parents. Since you saved my life, I willna turn you over to the laird, but steal the
child again and I will tell him about you."

The accusation stabbed hot as a poker. "I did not steal the bairn."

"Then how did you know he was there in the rushes?"

"I heard his heart-call."

"Heart-call?"

Aeryn shifted the sodden, stinking bottom resting against her bosom. "A heart-call is the
cry of one soul to another. The babe needed me."

The child's cries grew more frantic, causing her to put her indignation and any further
explanations aside for the moment. She turned and dug through her chest for a piece of
material large enough for cleaning and swaddling.

Once she had it, she turned and shoved the bairn into the handsome one’s arms, confident
the warrior would not try to escape through the water. "Hold him for a moment."

Quickly she poured a bowl of warm water and turned back to the warrior.

Laughter burst from her throat. The big, bad warrior was holding the bairn straight out
from him and she had never seen a person wrinkle their face in such an expression of
distaste.

"He dinna smell so bad as that," she said as she placed the supplies on her table.

"Think you not? Here, then, you take him back."

The handsome one pushed the babe toward her and she took him with a smile. "Him? Ah,
yes, you have been saying he was a lad. Such is as I had hoped. What does your chieftain
call him?"

"His name is Malcolm."

"A good name. I shall keep it for him." She chucked the little boy under the chin and laid
him on the table. "There now, Malcolm. Let us get you all dry and when Nib returns with
your nanny, we’ll have something for you to eat."

The bonny babe smiled at her and reached for her finger.

Aeryn laughed with delight. He would be such a joy to raise. She would have him trained
in the arts of her people. Already she could see her wee Malcolm growing and learning
and becoming--

"What is taking you so long, woman? I willna wait all day. I must get him home."

Aeryn turned on him, her fists on her hips. "See you here, handsome one. I have already
said he is mine. I found him. I shall keep him and raise him to be a great man. A warrior,
priest, and king."

She turned back to the babe.

A huge hand wrapped around her arm and jerked.

"You canna keep this bairn, woman. Clean him and give him to me."

Though the handsome one towered over her, she could only smile.

"And how do you plan on getting back to the surface world unless I take you?" She fixed
him with a glare. "Now, I suggest you go let go of my arm, sit by the fire like a good lad,
and stop trying to be the master in my home."

The moment Aeryn felt his grip release her she turned her back on him and gave her full
attention to changing the nappy.

"Imagine, Malcolm, he wants to take you back there, where they tried to kill you. You
will have a much better life here with me."

Malcolm kicked and cooed and she knew he was as amused by the idea as she was.

"Aeryn! I got your goat." Nib’s voice echoed down the tunnel from the surface.

Ach! If the handsome one realized there was an entry from the dry land above--she
turned to shout to Nib not to--

Too late. Nib’s long-legged form clip-clopped into the back of the grotto, a rope dangling
from his teeth, a nanny following docilely on the other end.

A strange silence fell over the room. Even Malcolm ceased his gurgling.

She looked at the handsome one who had jumped to his feet at Nib’s entrance. The man’s
eyes were wide and his mouth was as open as a fish out of water.

Nib dropped the goat's lead and approached the man. He lowered his head to the gaping
man's face and sniffed. "Hmmmm. Smells tasty. Can I eat him?"

The man’s eyes narrowed dangerously as she stifled a laugh. "No, Nib. He is my guest."

Nib snorted. "Just as well. He would probably give me indigestion anyway."

"What are you?" the handsome one asked.

Nib shoved at the man with his velvet nose. "What do you think I am, little man?"

Ah, that hit a sore spot, Aeryn thought as she saw the man’s eyebrows shoot up in
indignation. And truly he had some reason to be indignant. Though Nib stood taller, it
was only because he was in his horse form. As a man, Nib would not stand near as tall as
the handsome one.

"I think you are a kelpie. One of those flesh-eating fey of the waters."

Nib snorted. "You’re smarter than you look, little man."

Just then Malcolm’s cry reminded them all of the reason Nib had appeared.

"I am sorry, wee one. Here’s your nanny." She stopped and fixed Nib with a glare. "It is a
nanny, isn’t it?"

Nib snorted. "Am I an idiot? Of course, and I took care to get the one with the largest
bag, just in case your bairn is especially hungry."

"So, you stole a goat too?"

The handsome one--she really would have to learn his name--leaned against the wall and
looked more at ease with the situation, as if all his problems had been solved now that he
knew there was another exit from the grotto.

"I am not a thief, little man."

"I am not a little man, kelpie."

The two faced each other, glaring into each other’s eyes, taking measure.

"Now, now. Dinna get all worked up. We are going to be here together for a bit, so be
nice." She leaned over, holding Malcolm close to her breast. He nuzzled her, seeking the
food he needed.

"Nothing in these virgin orbs, wee one," she said with a laugh. "Let’s see now...." She
peered underneath the nanny. The pink bag was indeed full, but how to get it from the
goat into the babe?

She looked at the handsome one and Nib. They both looked as perplexed as she felt.

The handsome one smirked. "Having trouble? Perhaps I should take the bairn to his
mother now?"

"No. I will figure this out." She racked her brain, trying to remember how her mother had
nursed her foster brother when she’d found him and taken him in.

She needed a leather bladder.

"Nib, change to human form, please, so you can milk the goat."

A snort greeted her request and he shook his head, tossing his glossy mane from side to
side. "I am a kelpie, not a goatherd. I willna do it. Even for you."

The handsome one pushed away from the wall. "Allow me."

Aeryn watched with some suspicion as the man lifted the pail from the hook by the fire
and dipped it into the water simmering in the cauldron. He emptied the pail into the pool

and went to where the goat stood. Taking a low stool, he sat by the nanny’s side, set the
pail on the ground, and proceeded to wrap his long fingers around the teats.

With slow, steady motions he stroked the goat’s teats and soon had milk streaming into
the pail.

She watched in fascination. His fingers were so long and strong. Their rhythm was so
smooth, almost entrancing. Her own breasts tingled in fascination.

Surprised at her body’s reaction, Aeryn looked away. But the rhythmic splashing of the
milk shooting into the pail only made it worse. Her senses spun as she closed her eyes
and imagined what those fingers would feel like on her own breasts. A moan started in
her throat just as a cry from Malcolm broke her reverie.

Her eyes snapped open. "Oh, yes, Malcolm, I shall find you a bladder now."

She turned to search the trunk for a piece of soft leather, acutely aware that her knees
trembled.

* * * *

MacEwan milked the goat, all the while keeping his eye on the mysterious lady with the
laughing eyes. Her beauty was dazzling, but he would nae be letting her weave her magic
around him. All he needed was a moment’s inattention on her part and he would snatch
the bairn and run for the back of the grotto where he’d seen the kelpie come down.
Judging by the slowness of the kelpie’s progress, he guessed it was a winding and narrow
path--he felt sure he could outrun the large kelpie in such tight quarters. It would be a
joyous moment when he returned the boy to his father and mother.

And he would claim his prize, the lovely Tyra.

He cast a glance at the irritating lass who had called herself the lady of this loch. She
looked to be of an age with Tyra, but couldn’t have been more different in coloring.
Whereas Tyra’s hair was flame and fury, this lady’s flowing locks were liquid gold.

And Tyra’s full-bodied beauty seemed almost coarse next to the willowy form of this
lady. As she bent down to search through the chest, the thin white linen of her gown
pulled taut over slim hips and long legs.

His loins tightened. This was getting to be a habit. Had they responded so strongly to
Tyra? He thought not.

But this lady was not human, he reminded himself. She was fey. As was her kelpie friend.
Or was he more than a friend? This was his first encounter with fey folk, so he did not
know, but still a surge of disquiet surged through him at the thought that the two might be
lovers.

She stood and he did not want to avert his gaze, so watched through narrowed eyes as she
came near with the babe in the crook of one arm and a leather bladder in her other.

He stopped milking. The pail was near full and even slopped over when she dipped in a
ladle and scooped out a measure. This she poured--her hands as pure and white as the
milk itself--into the open end of the bladder and twisted it closed. A drop of milk seeped
from the end and she touched this to the baby’s lips.

MacEwan allowed a chuckle to escape as the babe wrapped both chubby hands around
the bladder and pulled the tip into his mouth. His loud suckling echoed throughout the
cave.

The woman laughed. He couldn’t help but marvel at how joyous a sound it was. It
warmed him, wound around inside him. He yearned to hear it again.

With a shock he wondered where the thought had come from. The lady was a child-
stealer at best, a fey creature of wild nature at worst. He would do far better to keep his
mind on the woman who was to be his wife rather than lust after this ethereal creature of
another world.

He shook his head. Yea, he would take the bairn and run out of here. He glanced toward
the kelpie. It had moved nearer, focused on the nursing child. He stood and moved
quietly toward the place where he judged the kelpie had come into the cave. Cool air
brushed his face.

"Where do you think you are going, little man?" The kelpie’s hot breath replaced the cool
breeze.

MacEwan stepped away from him. "Just wandering, kelpie." He glanced at the source of
the fresh air and realized the grotto’s walls produced an illusion--what appeared to be
solid was actually a curved opening to the tunnel.

The kelpie moved his bulk between him and the exit. "You’ll nae be goin’ anywhere,
laddie." With a shove of his velvety nose, the beast pushed MacEwan roughly back
toward the chamber’s center.

MacEwan’s gaze met that of the lady, holding the happily sucking babe in her arms as
though she had birthed him herself. She smiled.

"You weren’t thinking of leaving us so soon, were you?"

"Do you mean to keep me here a prisoner?"

"I dinna think I can let you reveal my secret home." She put the baby against her shoulder
and patted his back until he gave up a healthy burp. Her smile widened.

In spite of his realization that she was a creature of magic, he felt a softening of his heart
toward her. She handled the bairn with love and tenderness. As she returned the babe to
the cradle of her arms, she began to hum.

He closed his eyes to avoid the picture of her beauty, but her sweet voice filled the grotto
with magic. Beautiful, soft, lilting, it worked its way into his soul.

It wouldn’t do. He steeled himself against her charms and forced his thoughts back to a
way to return the babe. It didn’t seem he would be able to snatch the babe and run, but
mayhap there was a way to convince her to willingly give him the child.

"Lady, you canna keep this child from his mother."

She quirked one eyebrow at him. "If his mother was so concerned about him, she would
not have lost him."

"He was nae lost, woman, he was stolen."

Her eyes flashed fire at the accusation he had not even made. "I told you before that I was
not the one who stole him."

"Someone did. I followed the thief’s footsteps all the way from the keep to the loch."

"There, you see. I dinna leave my loch, so could not have been in the keep. The bairn was
left for me to find. I heard his heart-call. I shall keep him."

"But how can you keep him? You have no man to be a father to him." At least he did not
think she had a man. He would not look at the kelpie.

Her happy laugh echoed through the cave. "I do not need a man. None of my forebears
needed a man and they raised fine sons."

MacEwan chuckled. "Forgive me, lady, but to make a child, you do need a man."

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, to make one. But not to raise one. And since humans seem
to misplace so many bairns, we dinna need to make many."

That surprised him. "You were a foundling as well?"

She frowned. "No, I am born of my mother."

"And your father?"

The furrows in her perfect brow deepened. "I dinna know my father." She tipped her head
as though thinking. "My mother only said he was a great man and she had loved him with
all her heart."

Illegitimacy was normal among the fey? Did they not believe in marriage? He suppressed
the thought, instead asking, "What of the training of the bairn as he grows? Would you
make him a womanish thing?"

"You dinna need fear for that, handsome one. Wee Malcolm will be a great warrior. He
may even become a wizard if he has the gifts."

"But who will train him?"

She waved a hand in the air. "These things you do not need to know. We have our
teachers. Why, one of my ancestors raised Lancelot du Lac. Did she do such a bad job?"

He had forgotten the well-told tale. Lancelot had been found beside a loch and been taken
in and raised by a lady who lived in it.

"You are of her blood?"

"Of course. What did you think?"

MacEwan was not sure what he thought.

"Dinna you prefer to raise a bairn of your own flesh and blood?"

He had not meant to ask that, but now that the words were out, it seemed a good
argument. At least until the logical conclusion sprang into his mind--he was practically
offering to give her a child of her own to replace the one she now held tenderly to her
breast.

The prospect was a pleasing one.

Her eyes widened and dropped from his face to the place between his hips. He didn’t
need to look down to know his cock tented his tunic.

Warmth flooded his face as she studied him. He resisted the urge to shift his position to
loose the front of his still-damp tunic.

"Are you offering to give me a child?" she asked softly.

"Ha-rumph!"

They both turned toward the kelpie, now shuffling from hoof to hoof.

"I shall be going now, Aeryn," Nib said as he turned and trotted toward the pool that was
the grotto’s water exit. "Summon me if you need me." He dove in.

So, her name was Aeryn. Now that her kelpie was gone, he was not so sure he had to bed
her to get back the bairn. Surely he could overpower her.

"No, you canna take him from me."

He stared. "Can you hear my thoughts?"

Her only response was an enigmatic smile.

"Think you have the strength to keep me from simply taking the child and leaving the
same way the kelpie came in?"

She shrugged. "Perhaps you could try, but it willna work."

It almost sounded like a dare.

MacEwan decided he should find out, even though he was beginning to regret it would
mean he would have to leave the beautiful Aeryn’s company, and, he admitted, the
possibility of taking care of the itch between his legs. Apparently she didn’t read those
thoughts, for her next words surprised him.

"But what a sorry hostess I am. Let me fix you some food. You must be hungry."

"I willna eat fairy food."

A tinkling laugh greeted this statement. "I am not a fairy, silly man. You may be certain
my food is not tainted with magic." She laid the babe--unwillingly it seemed to
MacEwan--on a pile of skins and reached for a wooden bowl on the shelf above the fire.
When she removed the lid from the cauldron hanging on a hook just off the fire, the smell
of stewed fish and vegetables teased his nose and worked its way down to his empty
belly.

The growling sounded, for he was indeed hungry.

"Come, sit." She indicated the table, large enough for a great hall, and two chairs, but
moved in such a way that she stayed between him and the bairn. Clearly she did not trust
him.

MacEwan decided his best course was to accept her hospitality for now and so took a
chair. Aeryn placed the bowl before him with a small loaf of crusty flatbread. He picked
up the spoon and tasted the stew, all the while watching her as she prepared a bowl for
herself and got them both mugs of cool ale. She joined him at the table and they ate in
silence.

"So," she said finally, "what were you saying about giving me a bairn of my own?"

Chapter Four

Aeryn smiled behind her spoon as the handsome one choked on a hunk of fish.

"I dinna believe I offered that."

"Your body said otherwise." She took a mouthful of stew, chewing carefully and
swallowing. "What is your name, handsome one?"

He blinked as though confused. "Leith MacEwan, of the MacEwans of Otter."

"Hummm." Aeryn sipped more stew. The idea had shocked her at first, but it was
becoming more exciting by the minute to think of lying with MacEwan and conceiving a
child with him.

It was time she completed her journey into womanhood. She had set up housekeeping in
this, her own loch, just last summer, had become fast friends with the loch’s kelpie, Nib.
Now she needed to learn what it was to make love to a man. Not just to have a bairn to
carry on after she was gone, but to experience the act of love itself.

Did she love this man already? Was such a thing possible? Surely she felt an attraction
unlike any other she had ever known. But was that love?

Would the handsome one Leith MacEwan truly lie with her? She almost giggled as a
wickedly delicious picture formed in her head--using her fey powers to force him to
submit to her desires, just to be sure he came to desire her as much as she did him.

Her heart beat faster as her plan developed.

"Dinna you wish to lie with me?"

"What?"

He sounded shocked, and that shocked her. How did the ground-dwellers arrange such
things?

"I find you desirable," she replied. "I wish to lie with you. I want you to father a child on
me."

"No." He shoved away his bowl and stood. "What kind of immoral creature are you?"

"Immoral? What are you talking about? Is this not how such things are done?"

"No! Women do not proposition men in this way."

"Ah, I see. You wish to be the aggressor."

"No, I mean, yes. No."

Now she was truly confused. How would her mother have managed this? Aeryn wracked
her memory for any hints.

"I will have the bairn now, woman."

The hairs on the back of her neck shot up at his tone. Decidedly disrespectful it was.
Though she was young, she was still the lady of this loch and she would brook no such
attitude from anyone, let alone a ground-dwelling man.

She would show him who was mistress in this place.

She stood and faced him, focusing her power.

Then she smiled.

His eyes went wide and his lips--just a moment before tight as a bowstring in anger--
slackened. His arms fell to his sides.

She closed the small space between them and raised her hand to stroke the backs of her
fingers along his cheek. Tracing her fingertip along the strong plane of his jaw, she
finally allowed herself to brush the velvet of his full lips.

"I want you, Leith MacEwan."

"Yes."

A twinge nipped at her conscience. He was not truly willing. Still, he needed to be taught
a lesson. She had saved his life. He owed her a boon, whatever she wanted, and he had
refused.

She had the right.

That thought pushed out everything else as she took his hand and pulled him toward her
pallet of furs on the floor before the fire.

"Lie there," she commanded.

He obeyed.

"Remove your tunic."

Again, he reached for the tail of his garment and prepared to pull it up.

"Stop."

His eyes never left hers as his hands stopped their movement.

Aeryn knelt beside him and reached out, brushing her fingertips along the dark hair
covering his muscled thighs. Opening her hands, she reveled in the sensations of her
palms moving over him. She continued stroking, slowly lowering her hands until they
met his flesh. His thighs were all sinew and muscle. Delight coursed up her arms as she
kneaded him.

She let her hands slide under the tunic, feeling but not yet seeing. She imagined the
power of his maleness and then, as though at her bidding, he swelled, his length pushing
up at the stiff wool.

She leaned over and brushed her cheek against the tip of his member. The wool covering
him was soft, soothing. Her nose sensed the essence of the fiber....

And something more. The smell of a man. Earthy, hot, masculine. It caused an ache in
her loins and her blood to heat as though boiling.

She wrapped her fingers around his hardness, still draped in wool. A small gasp escaped
her lips as she realized her fingers were unable to fully enclose his shaft. So big. She
tightened her grip, trying to encase him, when his moan made her look away from the
object of her fascination and up at his face. His head was tipped back and his eyes closed.

"Does this please you?"

"Yes." His voice rasped and his fingers clutched the furs beneath him.

"Shall I stop?"

"Nae. Dinna stop."

See, she told herself, she was not forcing him. He acted of his own free will.

And since it pleased her, too, she stroked him some more. But soon to touch through the
wool was not enough. She wanted to see him, to touch him flesh-to-flesh. Again she put
her hands under the tunic and pushed it up. Then she leaned back on her heels.

The promise of his well-muscled legs had not lied. He was narrow in the waist, flat in his
belly. And his root.

Ah, what a beautiful sight.

It stood even taller, now that it was released. A glistening droplet crowned its tip.

Again she wrapped her fingers around him, as far as she could reach. Using the same
stroking, pulling motion she had seen him use on the goat earlier, she gave him more, just
as he had asked. He grew even larger in her hand.

His hips began to move, to jerk, and to thrust the hard staff in her fingers.

Suddenly he reached up, grabbed her by the arms and rolled her onto her back.

"Wait!" She shoved against his chest, but his bulk was impossible to move.

"You want this?" He was staring into her eyes with his own of burning blue fire and now
she wondered who ensorcelled whom?

It was her deepest soul which spoke, for the answer was not the one she had intended to
give.

"Yes."

He half-moaned, half-whispered, "Yes, Aeryn," as his lips claimed hers.

Her first kiss was all she could have wished. He took her soul and left her wanting more.
The soft warmth of his tongue teased her lips to part and his claiming went deeper. She
tasted him as he swept along her teeth, the insides of her lips. His essence mingled with
hers as their tongues played.

Delight sparked along her spine, connecting her most secret place with her mouth, her
breasts, her skin, everywhere he touched, and he touched her everywhere.

She barely realized her gown had disappeared, and when he rose to his knees and tore his
tunic from his shoulders she felt a rush of liquid heat course through her body.

He braced his hands beside her shoulders and leaned slowly back to her. His breath
passed over her lips, taunting her, down her throat. He paused over the hollow of her
neck and pressed his lips to her skin before he swept down to the tip of her breast and
closed his mouth over her hardened nipple.

Her back arched in a spasm of pleasure and she couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her
lips. Locking her fingers in his hair, she arched again as he took more of her breast into
his mouth, suckling her. His hands moved up to knead where his mouth couldn’t reach
and she lost all control. She could only moan, crying out again and again.

"MacEwan!"

"I am here, beautiful Aeryn. I shall not leave either of us wanting."

"I dinna know--" Her words were cut off by the sealing of her mouth with his.

"Open your legs to me, lady mine, if you want me inside you."

Knowing only that she had an emptiness that begged for filling and that the root to fill it
pressed thick and hard on her belly, she parted her legs. Even though she had never
experienced love before, Aeryn knew this was as it should be.

He lifted his body from hers only long enough to shift his staff to the heat between her
legs, now wet with need.

She felt his tip probing.

"It willna hurt but for a moment," he whispered, his voice deep and hoarse.

He pressed into her, pulled slightly back, then thrust mightily. His hardness plumbed her,
pushing past her entrance. Her cry rang off the cavern’s walls.

He was so big, but so gentle. He pressed further, until she had accepted his entire length.
When she was able to open her eyes, she found him over her, smiling at her.

"Aeryn?"

The soft whisper of her name from his lips was a joy even greater than the pleasure of
him inside her.

"Be you all right?"

She could only nod.

He withdrew slightly, then plunged into her again. Her body responded, arching to meet
his thrust.

They danced so for long moments, the pleasure building and building, until she believed
she would lose her reason.

She did. There was nothing. Only him, connected to her by a bond stronger than life or
death. There was no earth, no heaven, no loch, no meadow--naught mattered except him.

He exploded within her and she clutched him, pulling him closer than close. He rested his
forehead against hers and thrust once more.

She felt his seed shoot into her, the seed he gave her. She could see it flowing into her
womb.

In that moment she had a vision. She would bear him a son. She treasured the vision and
hid it deep within her heart.

Two sons to raise to manhood.

Chapter Five

MacEwan felt the last tremors of passion fade as he lay atop her softness, their bodies
fitting together as if they had been molded as one at creation. She held him, her arms
around him, her fingers caressing his shoulders, and her womanly parts sheathing him,
still pulsing her pleasure. Pleasure he had given her.

Given?

He jerked up and stared into her face.

She had entranced him. Used magical seductive powers.

That had to be the explanation, for he had never acted so with a woman. It had to be
magic.

He swore under his breath and rolled away, furious with her, and disgusted with himself.

"I dinna like what you did to me, woman."

He watched her green eyes cloud with confusion. "What?"

"Dinna play with me. I know you tricked me."

"No--"

"I was ready to take the bairn and you...." MacEwan grabbed for any reason, and did not
want to consider the truth niggling at his conscience. "You needed to stop me from taking
the child and leaving."

She jumped up and he too, stood, steeling himself against the translucent glow of her
body as she faced him. He scowled. He would not be blamed, for she had obviously used
her powers on him.

Stepping between him and the babe, she stared into his eyes, but he refused to be seduced
again by her unearthly beauty. It took every bit of his will to resist the yearning he felt, as
though it had been real.

But he knew it was not. She was only using her loins to keep the bairn.

"If you wish to leave, then you may go," she said. "But you leave without the bairn. I
have told you, he was left beside my loch. He is mine."

"It is not your loch, lady. It, like all the land around it, belongs to the Campbell."

She put her fists on her hips. He tried not to look at where they rested, forcing himself to
keep his gaze on her face.

"I have no regard for the rules of men. You may claim whatever you like, but the fact is
as it is. The loch is mine. You men use it only as I give you leave."

He took a menacing step toward her, but a snuffle from the cradle of furs where little
Malcolm lay reminded him of his first duty.

"The Campbell will drain this loch and destroy you if I return without his bairn."

She laughed and he closed his mind to the lilting sound. "He can try, handsome one. But
he must drain the Great Sea before he can get to me." This time it was she who took a
step toward him and he who backed up involuntarily. "Tell him what you will, but he will
not get the bairn back. He canna touch me. Leave now, before I do something to you that
I will regret."

A shiver shot down MacEwan’s spine. What else could she do? He honestly didn’t know.
One thing he did know was that Malcolm would be safe as long as the lady of the lake
had him. If he did not leave he ran the risk of never returning to tell Campbell where the
bairn was.

He bent over to retrieve his tunic.

Then everything went black.

Chapter Six

MacEwan squeezed his eyes shut against the painful ringing in his head. Raising his hand
to the back of his aching skull, he found an egg-sized lump telling him where the
deceitful woman had struck him. He wondered what she’d used.

"Here he is!"

Feet rustled through the bracken and came closer.

"Do you yet live, laddie?"

Big hands turned him over onto his back.

"What happened?" Campbell helped him sit up.

MacEwan took a moment to get his bearings--he lay on the grass beside the loch--before
answering.

"I was a fool, that’s what happened."

"Did you find my boy?"

"Aye, I found him."

"Where is he?" The older man’s voice shook with emotion. Clearly he expected the
worst.

MacEwan put his hand on the man’s arm and squeezed. "He is well, Campbell."

"But where is he?"

"That is a long story." He sincerely wished he could put off this explanation until they
were in a private place. There were too many ears around for his liking.

Campbell sat himself on the damp ground beside him. "Seems I have time."

MacEwan sighed and started his tale. "I followed a set of tracks to this place. When I got
here a woman was carrying the bairn away."

"A woman?" Campbell frowned. "So, you took the bairn from her. Where is he,
MacEwan? She must be punished as I have vowed."

"She claims she did not steal the child, but found him left on the shore."

Campbell's face hardened. "The one who took my son shall wish for a quick sword to the
belly for such a deed." He turned back to MacEwan. "Where is she? Where is my boy?"

"She took him below." He waited, hoping Campbell would understand and he would not
have to say the words that he himself could still barely believe.

But Campbell’s face showed no understanding.

MacEwan tried again. "She took him under the water." Again he waited, then added, "She
claims to be the lady of this loch."

Campbell sat back on his heels, furrows as deep as a new-ploughed field marring his high
brow. "Lady of the loch?" He turned to his men. "Did any of you know we had such a
lady?"

To a man, they shook their heads, save one grey-beard. "We had such a lady when I was
a lad but she has not been seen in many a year." He shook his head. "Campbell, if she's
took your boy below, she won't give him up."

Campbell's hands formed into ham-sized fists. "No." He leaned forward. “Tell me
everything, MacEwan. I will have my son back."

MacEwan described the lady’s disappearance beneath the water, baby Malcolm wrapped
in her arms. He also told of his own sojourn in her demesne, but did not tell all.

Hands flew in crossing themselves. Even MacEwan’s fingers itched to make the sign, but
he did not believe that after dallying with such a creature he could expect much
protection.

"Where in the water is this cave? We will get the lad back."

The men stood around the edge of the loch, staring at the water as though that could show
them the secret passage into the lady’s lair.

"There is another way into her demesne."

Campbell jumped to his feet. "Where?"

"I dinna know exactly, but I know there is one. She had a kel--a minion of hers bring
down a goat to feed the child."

Campbell started to organize his men to search the lake for an entrance.

"No," MacEwan said. Determination lent iron to his spine and he got to his feet, but wove
as his head spun. He ignored the throbbing ache. No woman, even a supernatural one,
was going to best him. "Force of arms will not defeat this unnatural creature. I shall bring
back your son, Campbell. Tell Tyra to prepare for a marriage."

‘Twas time to hunt a kelpie.

* * * *

MacEwan stared in fascination at the naked man plucking red berries from the bramble.
Droplets of water sparkled on his skin, jewel-like and radiant. The man’s raven black hair
shone nearly blue, except for the stray strands of green water-weed clinging to it.

The man showed no awareness of being watched, nor any concern at his state of undress.
He merely grazed along the bramble, delicately pulling off the ripe berries and popping
them into his mouth.

This was her kelpie. The kelpie who would take him to the lady, and the bairn.

MacEwan crept through the thicket, staying low, carefully placing each foot lest he alert
his prey.

"Ummmm." The kelpie licked his fingers. "These berries are excellent, little man."

MacEwan squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. Standing, he faced the beast.

"How did you know I was here?"

The man snorted a horse-sounding laugh. "We kelpies, even in man form, have a highly
developed sense of smell. Your stink is so strong I would have to be dead to not have
known." He waved a hand with a berry between his first two fingers at the loch. "I
smelled you a mile away."

Wiping his hands together, the kelpie started toward MacEwan. "What brings you down
to the lady’s demesne this fine day?" He crooked a black eyebrow. "I suppose you intend
to try to take the child again?"

"I was hoping to convince her to give him back."

The kelpie chuckled. "She cannot give back what she did not take."

"You play with words, kelpie."

"You waste your time, little man."

MacEwan closed the short distance between them. "I would not call ‘little’ a man you
must look up to."

The kelpie’s eyes narrowed. Though he was in man form, his eyes had lost none of their
fierceness.

"I dinna need physical stature to call you what you are. You may have bulk, but you lack
what is truly needful. You have lost your connection to the world. You think you are the
rulers of earth, but it is the old ones, the lady’s people, who truly rule." He smirked and
shook his head. "Go home, little man. Tell your Campbell to get another son on his wife.
This one now belongs to the lady of the loch."

Something about the way the kelpie spoke the words roused the green-eyed monster in
MacEwan’s heart. Suspicion that the lady had given her love to this creature--and how
many others?--chewed at him. He had to know.

"What are you to the lady? Her lover?"

A smile twitched one corner of the kelpie’s face. "Every loch has its guardians. We
kelpies were put here to protect the ladies of the loch."

MacEwan felt a scowl coming on. He did not like the way the kelpie played with words.
"You dinna answer my question."

"It wouldna be a good thing to give one’s heart to the lady." He stared at MacEwan. "Do
you not agree?"

"What do you mean? I have not given my heart to anyone. She is a creature of magic and
seduction."

The kelpie shrugged. "Are not all women?"

Such a thought had never occurred to him. Even as he let it drift through his mind, he
rejected it.

"We are not talking about me, kelpie. What is important is to get the bairn back where he
belongs."

"The child was left to die. Who is to say he was not meant to be raised by the lady?" Nib
tipped his head and grinned. "As to her lovers, she has had only one."

MacEwan grabbed the kelpie’s shoulders and shook him. "Who? Who was the man?"

"Release me, little man. We kelpies eat human flesh, you know, not just berries."

MacEwan glared, but let go.

Nib shook his head. "You were there, little man, think. You know who."

MacEwan let the words sink in. He had been her only lover.

"Do you care for her, little man?" The kelpie fixed him with a stare. "Either love her or
let her be. Think carefully before you act. For know this--if you hurt her, you will answer
to me."

"I would never hurt--"

"You know what I mean."

The kelpie turned to go and MacEwan’s mind snapped back to why he’d come. He
couldn’t let him get away--the kelpie was his only link to the lady’s hiding place.

He leaped at the retreating man-form.

The kelpie yowled, the sound so much like an enraged stallion that MacEwan had to look
to see what he held. The creature was still in man-form.

Locking his legs around the kelpie’s middle and his arms around the neck, he held on as
the kelpie fell to the ground and started to roll.

The weight on him grew, pressing the air from his chest. MacEwan fought against losing
consciousness and concentrated only on holding on.

They rolled and rolled. Then the kelpie got to his feet, MacEwan still hanging onto his
back.

"Let go, little man."

"No! Take me to her."

A horsy laugh greeted his demand. "Dinna you know the tales? Ride with me into the
deep and you shall never return, save as scraps for the bottom-feeders."

"You do naught but talk, kelpie," MacEwan shot back, though his breath came in ragged
gasps.

Rage exploded from the beast.

"As you wish, but you have been warned."

The neck expanded, forcing MacEwan to likewise expand his hold. Long, coarse, black
hair filled his hands. The waist grew, rounded, until MacEwan’s legs gripped not a man,
but the well-barreled girth of a stallion.

"Ready to ride, little man?"

Without waiting for MacEwan’s answer, the kelpie reared, hooves raking the air. A wild
scream of power exploded from his chest.

He hit the ground with a spine-cracking thud and dug in, springing from the ground to
leap toward the loch. Another leap and they arched over the water.

"Take a deep breath, little man. You wouldna want this to be over too soon."

MacEwan gasped just as his head went under.

Down, down, the kelpie swam, as though running on dry land. The pressure increased
until MacEwan felt it start to push the air from him. It could not be much further.

Could it?

The thought crossed his mind that maybe he had made a tactical error in enraging the
kelpie. He might not ever make it to the lady’s lair.

But he would ne’er let go.

Chapter Seven

"I brought you a toy, Aeryn."

Nib’s voice shook Aeryn from her study of her pretty baby where he lay on his tummy,
reaching for the colored crystals she had laid before him. His cooing warmed her heart,
made her smile, and, she admitted to herself, eased the new loneliness that ached within
her.

"What trinket is it this time, my friend?" she asked over her shoulder.

Nib whinnied and then a shower of water pelted her and the bairn. She yanked the
Campbell plaid over Malcolm and grimaced.

"Nib, must you do that?"

A thud made her finally turn.

MacEwan lay on the floor.

The sight of his handsome face gave her a jolt of joy.

"I see you are pleased with my gift," Nib said.

"Yes, but he is dangerous. He still wants to take Malcolm." And, though she didn’t say it
aloud, he made her feel things she did not understand and could not control. "Why did
you bring him here?"

"He forced me to. I should have eaten him when I had the chance."

Aeryn gazed at her friend. A smile broke over her face. "Oh, Nib. You are so soft-
hearted. You have never eaten man-flesh."

Nib’s big horse-eyes rolled. "Only because I am sure it would give me indigestion. But I
can eat this one if you wish him gone."

"No!"

"Ah, I thought so." Nib clopped closer to her, nuzzling her cheek with his velvety nose.
"Aeryn, you are dear to me and I would not have you hurt." He cast a look at the playing
child. "Maybe it would be best to give the bairn back to his mother. Then this one--" He
kicked a hoof out at MacEwan’s still form. "Will leave you in peace."

Perhaps she did not want to be left in peace. Perhaps the yearning she felt in her heart
was more than lust for his body. She moved to kneel beside him, pushing the wet hair
from his brow.

He moaned at her touch. "Aeryn."

Once again the joy of her name on his lips quickened the beat of her heart. This was the
feeling her mother had told her of. Warned her of. Men were not constant, she’d said.
Sometimes they only pretended to give their hearts just to plant their root inside a
woman’s body for a quick slaking of their lust.

Had it only been lust between them? Her heart was aching for him, as well as the other
parts of her. It was not only the baser desires on her part, but what of his?

"Leave us, please, Nib."

"Aeryn--"

She held up her hand. "No, I must learn for certain where his feelings lay."

"I dinna want to tell you, Aeryn, but I must. His quest to retrieve the bairn has a motive."

She shut her eyes. So her handsome one had not been so pure in simply wanting to return
the child to his mother. "What is his motive?"

"He is to marry Campbell’s daughter."

The words shafted through her. It was just as her mother had warned. MacEwan was
promised to another. "You are certain?" She had not needed to ask. She knew already Nib
spoke the truth.

"I heard it from his own lips."

Aeryn placed her hand over her belly where the child they had made grew even now.

Their son.

A child he must never know of, for if he were so determined to retrieve Campbell’s son,
she could only imagine the lengths he would go to retrieve his own blood.

She should let Nib eat him. And get indigestion.

Shivers of disgust with herself for even entertaining the thought rippled over her.

Anger replaced her pain. She should tell Nib to take him away. But not yet. Not until she
heard the truth from MacEwan’s own lips.

Once more she turned to Nib. "Go, please, Nib. Leave us alone for a bit."

* * * *

MacEwan opened his eyes. Where was he?

"So, handsome one. You finally awaken?"

He rolled onto his side and looked over at her.

"So it appears." He glanced around. "Where is your kelpie friend?"

"He has a name, you know. Nib took Malcolm for a stroll."

"Don’t you fear he will eat him?"

Aeryn’s laughter filled the cave, washing over him like ripples of joy.

"Nib talks, but he is a good soul."

"Do such creatures have souls?"

"Do not we all?"

There was something different about her. She seemed even softer, more gentle than
before. Her eyes glowed, soothing his misgivings.

She sat beside him, gazing into his eyes. "Who are you really, Leith MacEwan?"

"I am a man. Nothing more."

Aeryn laid her hand against his heart and only then did MacEwan realize he was naked.
He jerked back.

"Where is my clothing?"

She shrugged. "It was wet. I removed it and put it before the fire to dry."

He looked over to confirm her words. Sure enough, his tunic, breeches and plaid hung
over a line strung before the fireplace.

They sat on the pallet of furs where they had made love. Their mingled scents still
remained, exciting him.

Was this part of her plan?

She tipped her head, looking at him quizzically.

"What?" he asked softly, wondering what she was thinking.

"I am listening to your heart."

"Can you do that?"

She nodded. "I can, if the heart calls to mine."

"Meaning?"

"I can only read the heart of those who would call to me, share with me, give their own
heart in return."

What did his heart say? Did he even know? Things had been happening so fast he was
not sure what she heard.

"You are to be married." She said it almost nonchalantly.

How had she known that? Had his heart told her? Or had she only guessed? He winced.
Either way, she deserved the truth.

"That is why I am here." Quickly he added, "At Campbell’s."

She nodded. "The daughter is beautiful, then?"

"Yes. She is beautiful."

"And you love her?"

MacEwan chuckled. "I only I met her yesterday."

"But you would marry her and give her bairns?"

"It is time I married. My father desires this joining of our clan to Campbell’s." A stray
thought coalesced. "And what of your people, lady? Do you ever marry and raise children
together?"

She rose from the pallet and walked away without answering. He waited, for he could see
that his question troubled her. There was a tension in her shoulders, hesitation in her step,
and she would not look at him directly.

He settled back against the pallet and waited, wondering why he had asked her that
question. He was already promised to Tyra. Knowing that it might be possible to tie this
marvelous creature to him forever was a burden he did not need. Better by far to believe
she was beyond his reach.

At last she returned and knelt beside him again, finally meeting his gaze.

"Sometimes a lady will join with a man."

He looked closely at her face. Though a small smile bowed her lips, her face wore such
sadness that he could feel her sorrow in his own soul.

"My people take vows seriously." She paused, looking away again as she asked, "Will
you marry her, then?"

MacEwan’s heart tore for her, her sorrow engulfed him. "I am promised." He took her
hand and held it to his breast. "For we, too, take vows seriously."

Aeryn shook her head. "Not all of you, dear MacEwan, for my father forgot my mother
after he had his ride."

He laid his finger under her chin and tipped her head up to meet his gaze. "That is not
something I would do, Aeryn. I would not make you promises I could not keep."

"Will you give me your heart?"

"Is it mine to give?"

"Your heart is yours. An arranged marriage cannot change that."

He knew that what she said was true. A feeling, half sorrow, half joy, swept over him.
She was right.

"Then it is yours."

She smiled and stroked her fingers along his cheek, trailing them down through the hair
on his chest.

"Yes, our hearts call to each other. Can you hear mine?" She gazed into his eyes and he
felt a touch in his mind, fingers of sensation moving into him, twining with him to
become a single being. Love bathed him in glowing rays and joy filled him to bursting.

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her. "If this is all we have, then my
heart accepts."

She pressed her lips to his, sweeping her tongue across his mouth, seeking entry.

MacEwan enfolded her to him, wanting to take her into himself forever.

Was it possible to find such love in so short a time? He felt as though he had known this
lady forever, and that his life would be empty without her.

Then all thought fled as she lifted her gown from her shoulders, revealing her white skin
and delicate form to his eyes. His hands needed no urging. He watched his fingers cup
her breasts and his thumbs rough her rosy nipples to pouting hardness.

Aeryn’s head fell back and she sighed. She arched, pushing her breasts more firmly into
his hands.

They had shared their hearts, now they would share their bodies. He took her and rolled
her beneath him. Her thighs parted and his root pressed between the tender lips of her
womanhood, the womanhood only he had known.

She sighed and twisted, grinding the tip of his root against the thatch of golden hair at the
juncture of her thighs.

Desperate madness.

Desperate need.

Overwhelming joy.

"MacEwan, beloved," she whispered against his mouth.

Her breath, sweet and warm, added to the sea of feelings he swam in. Her fingers, first
scratching, then touching butterfly soft, the rising scent of her woman's need, the warmth
of her body, the velvet of her lips, all worked together to bring him closer to the edge.

She grasped his manhood and pulled gently, settling his tip against the wet heat of her
entrance. She arched against him, driving herself onto him. The feeling was more than
MacEwan could bear and he thrust into her, driving deeper and deeper with each motion,
claiming her as his own.

And when he could hold onto his reason no more, when he felt she, too, was on the
precipice with him, ready to take his hand and soar by his side, he gave over all control of
his body to his beloved.

"Aeryn, come with me," he whispered.

And she did.

Chapter Eight

A chuckle woke her. Aeryn opened her eyes and tipped her head where it rested on
MacEwan’s outstretched arm. The sinew rippled beneath her neck and she reveled in his
power.

"What are you laughing at?" she asked.

"Me." He turned toward her and smiled as he raised his hand to smooth her cheek. "I
have never ... well, been so out of control before."

"Is that a good thing then?"

His smile broadened. "Yes, beloved. I think it is."

They lay quiet, touching, body and mind and heart. She could hear his heart and basked
in the love there.

How had it happened so quickly? What magic had created the bond between them, so
tight, so strong, so fast?

Better to not examine that too closely. Magic did not bear close scrutiny, her grandmere
had always said. It was enough that his heart-song could not be counterfeited. She was
certain he loved her. That would be enough if that were all she was to have.

The echo of Nib’s clopping hooves alerted them they were about to be interrupted. When
his long face peered around the corner, teeth clenching the plaid cradle holding her baby,
Aeryn grinned.

"So, nursemaid, you have returned with my bairn?"

She felt MacEwan tense beside her.

So suddenly did he change she did not know she was sensing the same man.

He still wanted the child.

Could she have been wrong? Could he have created what she wanted to see in him?
Could he have fooled her?

When he closed his heart from her, she knew he had. But it was too late. He had given it.
It belonged to her.

She reached for her gown and pulled it on. MacEwan, wordless, sat up and began to don
his own clothing. Nib, for his part, carried the baby over to the cradle of furs and laid him
down.

"I think I shall be going now," Nib said.

"Wait, Nib. You need to return MacEwan to the surface world. I believe his business here
is done."

MacEwan shot her a look. "Aeryn, you know what passed between us--"

"Silence! I want you to go."

He glanced at Malcolm.

"Without my child."

"I made Campbell a vow."

"A bargain, I’d say. His daughter in payment for your services as a tracking hound."

"Aeryn, be reasonable. His mother--"

"Should not have lost him." She relied on the one thing that made her fear to give the
babe back. If the child had been stolen and left for dead once, it could happen again. She
was not being selfish in wishing to keep the bairn safe. Malcolm had been brought to her
to protect. And she would.

"Do not be childish, Aeryn. He is not a toy or any such fanciful thing for you to play
with. He belongs with his parents."

She turned on him. "And you, MacEwan, where do you belong?"

He stiffened as though she had struck him. "I thought I knew, but I canna be certain now.
Perhaps I need time to think."

"Perhaps you do."

* * * *

MacEwan slid from Nib’s back and started walking pensively toward the keep.

"MacEwan!"

He turned back. "What, kelpie?"

"What happened in there? Did you make her a vow?"

Had he? He thought back over what had been said. "No. I told her I was not free to make
a vow."

"And she accepted that?"

Again, MacEwan reviewed what she had said, what he had heard from her heart.

"Yes. She accepted it."

Nib grunted then was silent for a long moment. "It dinna be my place to speak of these
things, little man, but I shall do so anyway."

He stepped closer and looked MacEwan in the eye. "She loves you."

The kelpie’s words balmed an open wound. But if she loved him, why had she sent him
away? He wasn’t sure he believed it. "How would you know that?"

"I know Aeryn. She is a loch lady. They do not give their hearts often, but once they do,
they are constant, many times to their sorrow." The kelpie came even closer, bared his
teeth and turned his head so one large, liquid brown eye stared into MacEwan’s face.

"If you have nothing to give her and promised her nothing, then you have nothing to
regret. She had the power to stop you at any time and she did not. But if all you intend to
do is take the child from her, leave her alone. Leave her and go marry Campbell’s
spawn."

"How did you know I was to marry Tyra?"

Nib shot his ears forward. "What are these? Carrots?" He wiggled them. "I heard you
when Campbell found you lying beside the loch. ‘Tell Tyra to prepare for a marriage,’ I
believe you said?"

MacEwan nodded. "That was the plan. Then."

"And now?"

Part of him resented this questioning, but he knew the kelpie truly cared for Aeryn. He
had been her friend and protector, if MacEwan was any judge of matters. The shape-
shifting man-horse had a right to see to Aeryn’s well-being.

"Now things are different. More complicated. I made a vow to Campbell to return his son
in exchange for his daughter’s hand."

"Well, then, it would seem to me that if you dinna return the child, then your marrying
the clootie woman is out of the question."

MacEwan was taken aback. "Why do you call her a ‘devil woman’?"

Nib snorted in what MacEwan took for disgust. "Let’s just say that maybe the woman is
not as innocent as she appears."

At that the kelpie turned and galloped into the forest. MacEwan watched, considering the
words. Perhaps he should return to the keep and ask some questions of the lovely Tyra.

* * * *

A short time later he found her alone in the kitchen garden, pulling weeds from among
the fennel.

"Good day, Tyra."

She looked up and he was amazed by how quickly her smile faded, replaced by an
expression of grave concern

"Good day to you, MacEwan. Have you found my brother?"

"I canna tell you any good news, I fear." He did not know why, but thought it was best
not to reveal to her what he’d discovered.

"My father willna tell me nor Ellen what is going on, though any fool can see there is
much activity around the loch. I have even seen you there walking the perimeter." She
fixed him with a glance. "What took you there? Do you think the child-stealer drowned
the child?"

The same intuition that had guided him so far warned MacEwan continue to keep his own
counsel. "I was looking everywhere I could think of. The loch was a logical place to
search, so I did."

"Well," she said, wiping her hands on her apron. "I hope you find him soon so that we
can wed."

"Does that idea please you?"

She shrugged and smiled. "I dinna truly have much to say in the matter. But if I am to be
wed, I can think of worse husbands." She stepped closer to him, her loose red hair
catching the breeze and lifting around her face. The scent of lavender wafted to his nose,
tantalizing him. Still, he could not help but realize that being so close to her did not excite
him as much as the mere thought of the lady beneath the loch.

"Find my brother quickly, MacEwan. Then we can get onto more pleasant matters." Her
eyes held a wealth of promise, promise which MacEwan was certain he would have
anticipated with more pleasure only a day ago.

"Unless...." She paused and looked up at him from beneath her lashes, "Unless you’d like
to have a wee sample now, just to see if we suit?"

He raised one questioning eyebrow, which she must have taken as agreement, for she
took his hand and began to pull him toward a corner of the garden where there stood a
small shed used for drying of the root crops.

"I do think we suit, MacEwan," she whispered as she led him to the shed’s farthest,
darkest corner. "You are an ambitious man who will one day be leader of his clan and I, I
am a woman fit to rule beside such a powerful chieftain." As Tyra spoke, she slid her
hands up his arms until they came to rest behind his neck. "Dinna you want a wee taste of
what’s to come once we are wed?"

Her lips were already moving toward his, her breasts pressing into his chest, and her hips
into his loins before he could answer. Whatever suspicion had brought him to the garden
to question her was forgotten when she captured his mouth and thrust her tongue deeply
inward. At the same moment her hips began a slow circular rhythm against his crotch.

Though his mind and his heart were in the gentle hands of another, he would not insult
the laird’s daughter’s dignity by pushing her away. Let her take her kiss and then he
would--

His breath caught. She had dug her fingernails into his bare buttocks.

When the devil had her hands crept beneath his kilt?

As she moved against him in front and alternately kneaded and nicked him from behind,
MacEwan felt his self control slipping away.

She was to be his wife. Why not? He could think of no reason. But then, in truth, he
dinna think he could think at all.

His head and heart went to war with his cock. The battle was a short one as he grabbed
her tightly around her chest--ignoring the mounds of womanly flesh pressed beneath his
thumbs--and pushed her away from him.

"Nay, Tyra. "Tis not the way I want you," he lied. "I willna take the woman to be my
wife against the rough wall of a shed. She deserves the softest linens and pelts our first
time together."

An image of a bed of furs in a fire-lit grotto sprang into his mind.

He planted a hard swift kiss on her lips and said, "Wait, lovely Tyra, and our joining will
be all the more passionate."

She smiled at him then turned and went into the kitchen. He breathed a sigh of relief as
he considered her behavior. Though she seemed truly eager for her brother to be found,
he thought he had sensed some lack of truth hidden in her eyes.

He did not know what to think. Or do. He only knew that Aeryn still had the bairn and
that his vow to Campbell came before his own desires. Vows could nae be broken. He
had to get the child back.

Chapter Nine

Nib grazed at the edge of the loch, keeping watch while little Malcolm dozed in the
sunshine. Aeryn sat beside the babe, playing with his golden red curls, twisting them
gently around her finger.

Such a pretty babe. She could almost be content.

"Aeryn."

Nib’s quiet warning forced her to take her eyes off the sleeping baby.

"There is a man near." Nib raised his long nose to the air and snuffled. "It is your
handsome one."

Aeryn picked up Malcolm and started for the safety of her loch. She did not want to see
him again.

"Going so soon, lady of the loch?"

His deep voice sent an unwanted tingle through her. And his tall, broad-shouldered body
stood squarely between her and her refuge.

"Out of my way," she said, not at all sure he would obey.

"Give me the child."

"No." She clutched Malcolm to her breast. "I tire of this, MacEwan."

"As do I," he replied.

The implication was not lost on her. So, this was to be a battle of wills. She sighed. So be
it.

"MacEwan, I rule here. If you dinna wish to be under my command, I suggest you leave
and not return."

His broad chest shook and a laugh burst from his lips. "What will you do, lady?"

Her ire flashed into flame. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nib take a step forward.
She raised a hand and waved him back. If this man did not believe her power, she would
demonstrate for him so he knew with whom he dealt.

Laying Malcolm on the ground, she faced the impudent man. Slowly she raised her arms,
asking the waters to answer her call.

The familiar sensation of power surged through her and she smiled. "Look behind you,
MacEwan. See what I am capable of."

Uncertainty flashed in his eyes and he twisted his head to glance behind him. He
stumbled as he turned all the way around.

A low wall of blue-green water roiled in the air before him. He stepped backward. The
water rose higher until it stood as tall as an oak.

Aeryn wiggled her fingers and the wall crested directly over his head. He stood his
ground. It occurred to her she could let the pillar of water fall onto his head and crush
him.

The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She could never do such a thing.

Still, she had to escape with the babe before he recovered from his fear. If not, the battle
would grow and one of them would surely be hurt. She would not allow that.

So, she spread her hands, open palmed, and guided the wall of water around him until it
completely circled him.

He spun back around and she heard his growl through the water’s roar.

"You cannot escape me so easily, lady." He gulped a big breath of air and entered the
wall, slogging his way toward her.

Aeryn called forth more water, until MacEwan lost his footing and floated. She
approached the wall and gazed up at his furious face. He flailed, struggling to swim down
to reach her, which struck her as impossibly funny.

"Ne’er fear, MacEwan," she said with a giggle. "I shall go now to my loch and take my
bairn with me. As long as you hold your breath you shall survive."

Bubbles flowed from his mouth as he tried to shout at her. She ignored him and picked up
the slumbering Malcolm and stepped

i

nto the loch, without so much as a backward

glance at MacEwan in his prison of water.

* * * *

As she disappeared beneath the waters, MacEwan thought every curse at her that he
knew. Once again she had bested him. His lungs ached for the air he had unwisely used
in his useless attempts to shout at her.

Then as suddenly as it had appeared the watery wall collapsed, leaving him hanging in
mid-air for a ridiculous moment before he, too, fell.

He rolled over and groaned. This was shaping up to be more difficult than he had
thought.

* * * *

Aeryn had no doubt he would return. And she doubted not that he would bring others the
next time, a band of men who would threaten her demesne.

What could they do to her?

"I saw it, you know."

She raised her gaze to meet Nib’s where he sat at her table chewing an oatcake. In his
man-form, his brown eyes held more seriousness then they usually did.

"What did you see?"

"I saw a woman leave the bairn by the loch."

She gasped. "Why didn’t you say so earlier?"

He shrugged his shoulders, sending a stalk of water weed flying. "Nobody asked me."

Aeryn rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You could have told him."

Nib snorted. "He would not have listened." He leaned his elbows on the table and looked
at her. "What now, Aeryn? The men will come."

"I know." She walked over to the pallet where Malcolm lay on his back, arms and legs
wiggling in the air. Her heart melted. He would be her life. He and the bairn she carried.
She laid her hand on her stomach. How could anyone abandon their own child? She
turned and looked at Nib.

"Was it his mother who left him in the reeds?"

"How am I to know that?" Nib replied testily. At Aeryn’s sharp look, he snorted. "I never
could fool you. Nay, ‘twas not his mother."

"If it was not his mother, then there is someone in the keep who wants Malcolm dead. We
should tell MacEwan. He will understand why the babe must stay with me."

As she spoke the words, she felt a stab of anguish pierce her heart. A wrenching cry
ripped through her, a cry of loss and despair.

"My baby. My Malcolm!"

The sorrow of it forced Aeryn to her knees. She knelt there, quivering, and knew it was a
heart-call. A heart-call from Malcolm’s mother.

Why had she not heard the woman’s call before? Could the call of the bairn--and that of
MacEwan--have drowned it out?

Guilt twisted inside her. It was within her power to ease the woman’s pain. All she had to
do was return the child to the woman who had given him birth. To his true mother.

All she had to do was give up her heart’s desire.

Chapter Ten

MacEwan wrung the water from his tunic with a violent twist and jerked it back over his
head. As he flung his sodden plaid around his waist, he heard a rush of bubbling water
and turned toward the damned loch.

She was coming back, the bairn in her arms and the kelpie beside her

.

He planted his

fists on his hips and watched as she glided toward him. But the anger ebbed, for she
looked more beautiful than ever and that traitorous part of his body reacted. He shook his
head. Was that his loins or his heart? His loins mattered not, but his heart.... He hardened
himself against the pain in her face.

"MacEwan!" she called. "There is something you must know."

She held the child, almost desperately, against her breast.

"What?" He really tried to hold his anger against her, but her demeanor was one of a
woman whose heart was breaking and he could not find it in himself to hurt her more.

"Nib saw who left the child by the loch."

MacEwan glared at the kelpie. "You saw? And said nothing?"

The kelpie, now on the shore beside Aeryn, shrugged his withers. "The doings of men, or
women, are nothing to me."

MacEwan drew his sword and set the edge against the powerful black neck. "Are you
saying it was a woman who left the bairn?"

"Stop it! Why are you two acting this way? Is it not more important to find out who
would leave a child to die than to continue this silly arguing?"

He lowered his sword. "You are right. Kelpie, I would appreciate hearing what you saw."

There, he had made the first move. The smile Aeryn gave him made it worth it. Her
approval of his action touched him deep inside. He was glad to have pleased her. Now it
was up to the cursed beast.

"I was grazing just over there," Nib said, raising his head and pointing with his muzzle
toward a patch of white-topped clover. "The sun was just breaking over the hills. A
young woman brought the child and laid him in the rushes."

"What did she look like?"

The beast made a sound much like a grunt of concentration. "She was near as tall as
Aeryn, very pretty...." He let his words trail off.

"Nib," Aeryn chided, "stop playing games."

"Oh, I remember now, the most striking thing was her hair."

Leith felt a cold wave of dread wash over him.

"She wore a bright purple overdress."

"The hair, kelpie!"

Nib snorted and grinned. "She had flaming red hair, hanging to her knees."

MacEwan cursed under his breath.

"What is it, MacEwan?" Aeryn asked.

"I believe I know who the woman is."

"You do not think it was his mother, do you?" It was not really a question.

"No."

She nodded. "Nor do I, for I heard the mother’s heart-cry." She gazed down into the face
of the smiling baby in her arms. When she raised her eyes to meet his, what he saw took
his breath away. Tears glistened and pooled, trickling down her cheeks.

"If you can prove who did this, so it will not happen again, I shall return the child to his
mother."

MacEwan moved closer and she did not step back. He could have easily taken Malcolm
from her arms, but something, perhaps it was trust, perhaps it was a desire he shared with
her to make certain the child would be in no further danger, kept him from doing so.
Instead he took her hand.

"Bring the bairn to the keep at sunset, Aeryn."

She nodded silently as the tears flowed down her cheeks.

* * * *

Tyra made her way down the staircase. It had been so easy she could scarcely believe she
had succeeded. The brat was out of the way. The Campbell land would be hers. She
would become laird as her grandmother had been before her. After she married MacEwan
and joined his holdings to hers, she would be the most powerful woman in Scotland
excepting only the Queen herself.

Of course it had been a terrible thing to leave the child to die. It would have been far
more merciful to kill him quickly and let them find the body. But she hadn’t been able to
do the deed and so had chosen the next best way.

The child’s blood would not be on her hands. And who could blame a wild animal for
doing what it did?

She dismissed the guilt. She’d done what she’d had to do, just like the wild animal. She
was only trying to survive and keep what was hers by right.

"Hello, Tyra."

MacEwan. She smiled to herself. He would make a fine husband, all muscle and sinew
and flashing blue eyes, but right now she still had a role to play. Before turning to face
him, she assumed an expression of anxiety.

"Did you find my brother?"

"I did."

Her heart tripped with anxiety. How should she react?

She stepped closer to him and laid her hand on his arm.

"Praise God. Where is he?"

As she met his gaze she saw something in his eyes that had not been there before. What
was the hard edge there? Surely it was only the reaction of a man who had found a dead
babe?

"Is he all right?"

He looked down and shook his head. It was all the answer she needed. Everything had
gone as she had planned. The child was out of the way.

She could have screamed in joy. It was all she could do to keep a grin off her face and
replace it with one of sorrow.

"Does Ellen know?"

"Your father is with her now."

"Poor Ellen." She hoped her voice carried the right tone of sympathy. "Where did you
find him?" Something told her she should be interested in all the lurid details.

"Near where you left him."

It took a moment for his words to sink in.

How could he know?

No one had followed her. She was certain of that. No one had seen her leave the babe’s
nursery. No one had seen her return.

"W-w-where I left him?" she finally managed to get out.

He stroked one finger down her arm. "There is no need to dissemble with me, Tyra. I ken
what you did. I dinna ken why."

The sudden change of topic sent her mind reeling for a response, but before she could
reply he said, "With Malcolm out of the way, you are in line to be your father’s heir, is
that not right?"

She could not believe what she was hearing. MacEwan’s thinking followed the same path
as her own. She let go the breath she’d been holding. He was her ally.

"Yes. Since Malcolm is gone, I shall take his place. Once we are married, the joining of
our lands will make us the most powerful family in Scotland."

His strong fingers circled her cheek in a tender caress and he smiled. "A man can go far
with a wife who has no fear. You are such a woman, are you not, Tyra? Do you fear
anything?"

"No," she replied truthfully. Better that he knew now that she would not be a dutiful
baby-breeder.

He nodded, his fiery blue eyes burning deep into her own. "I knew that the first time I
saw you. You dinna be one to shy from an unpleasant task if it be needful. That is why
you took the babe from his cradle and left him by the loch. It was a bold move, Tyra."

She allowed an answering smile spread over her face. "And I am capable of much more,
my lord, should it be required."

"I am certain that you are." His brow furrowed. "But I wonder how you managed to steal
the bairn with so many others around. Surely you were seen by someone. We must make
certain no witnesses come forward."

What was he suggesting? Murder? She cringed inside, but then straightened her
shoulders. She could be the wife he wanted. And she had been right. They were of a kind.

"Did anyone see you take the child?"

"Sh-h-h. If someone hears--"

"I merely wish to clean up any loose threads so our lovely tapestry does not unravel."

Reassured, she glanced around, then whispered, "I took the child while his nurse slept
like the cow she is. It was nothing to walk out of the keep with him. I often walk at night
so no one thought anything of it."

He nodded.

"Is that enough for you, my lord?" he said loudly.

Chapter Eleven

The tapestry against the wall rippled and her father stepped from behind it. Campbell
stood, shoulders stooped, all life gone from his eyes as he stared at Tyra.

"Why, daughter?"

MacEwan could not look away from the man, suddenly old and tired and heartbroken.

Tyra's lips parted, her tongue shot out to moisten their dryness, then her shoulders
squared and she faced her father.

"You were going to give my inheritance to Ellen’s son. This land belongs to my family,
my sons, not hers."

Campbell’s face blotched in sudden anger. "Is that your decision to make? Your
grandmother made me her heir, not your mother. It is my decision who shall follow me.
You try to take that right from me? By killing a child?"

Ellen and two clansmen entered then. Ellen approached Tyra, staring into her face. Her
hand twitched at her side and MacEwan thought she would strike the girl.

‘Twould be much less than she deserved.

"I never meant to hurt--"

"No!" Fire burned in every line of Campbell’s face. "No lies, girl. You have committed a
terrible crime. Your punishment has already been spoken."

"What? No!" She ran to her father and fell at his feet. "No, Papa, no. You can’t. I am your
heir." She pounded her fists on the floor. "'Tis not my fault I’m not a son," she wailed.

Campbell glared down at her. "Even if you had been a son, I would not make you my
heir, for being a woman does not make you a liar and petty deceiver. That is what is in
your soul."

He waved the two burly Highlanders forward. "Take her to her chamber and lock her in.
She left my son to die in the loch. Such shall be her same punishment. We take her at
dawn."

"No, Campbell."

The woman’s voice reached deep into MacEwan’s belly as he turned to see Aeryn step
through the doorway, the bairn in her arms.

Ellen cried out, "Malcolm!" and started toward them, followed closely by her husband,
his hand on the hilt of his sword.

MacEwan jumped between them, his own sword out, tip pointed to the ground, but ready.

"This is Aeryn. The woman who saved your son."

"And the lady of Loch Bemis," Aeryn added. "I found the babe after your daughter
abandoned him in the reeds. I would keep him, but heard the heart-cries of his mother and
cannot let her suffer so."

Tyra gasped. "No! No! No! He is dead." She turned to MacEwan. "You said he was
dead!"

MacEwan shook his head. "No, Tyra. I did not. You made your own assumption on that
score."

Tyra threw herself against the stones and wept her frustration. MacEwan found he had
little in the way of sympathy for her.

Aeryn held the squirming child out to his mother. "Here is your son, Ellen."

Ellen took her baby and held him tight to her bosom. "Thank you, lady."

Aeryn’s smile lit the whole room. "He is a sweet bairn. He will make a fine man."

MacEwan felt a swelling of pride in her. She had chosen to do the right thing and it was
costing her. He could see the glistening of tears as she watched the child she loved
returned to his mother’s arms.

She turned to Campbell. "Now, my lord, the punishment you have spoken is fair, for the
bairn might have died, had not your daughter been seen leaving him. But she is your
blood. Can you really commit her to my waters?"

"I have vowed to do so."

"Yea, you have. And she deserves to be punished, but can you not think of another
punishment which would serve as well as her death?"

Campbell ran his fingers through his hair. "Have you a suggestion, lady?"

"She could do good to make up for the hurt she has caused."

Every eye was on the old man as he stared at his daughter, still sobbing on the floor.

"Tyra, look at me."

She raised her red-rimmed eyes to obey.

"You will go to the convent at Inverness. There you shall help the holy sisters in their
work."

"For how long?" Tyra asked, wiping her tears away.

"Until you learn to be whole."

Tyra frowned. "What does that mean?"

Aeryn stepped forward. "To love and care for others more than yourself. To learn to
nurture life, not to throw it away. I hope you can learn that. Otherwise, your father would
be wise to keep you locked away forever."

Tyra opened her mouth to respond, but stopped. Her lips snapped shut and she said
nothing more.

Campbell turned to MacEwan. "MacEwan, I know not how to thank you. Our bargain is
clearly one you dinna want to pursue now."

"Aeryn returned the child, not I. You owe me nothing. Except--" MacEwan spread his
hands and grinned. "Perhaps an alliance between our clans would be near as good as a
marriage, I’m thinking."

Campbell nodded.

MacEwan looked over at Aeryn. She smiled sadly and said, "It is time for me to return to
my loch."

"Will you not stay for a bit, Lady Aeryn?"

MacEwan watched, feeling her pain, as she looked once more at Malcolm, now cradled
in his mother’s arms.

"I dinna think so," she said softly, then turned and left.

Chapter Twelve

Aeryn sat at the table. Alone. The day after she’d returned Malcolm to his family,
MacEwan had left the keep, with an agreement for an alliance between the two clans.

She was glad for him. He had attained what he had come for, though in a different way
than planned.

Her hand went to her belly, where not even a rounding yet showed the evidence of the
bairn within. Yestereen, in the quiet of the night as she lay alone before her fire, she had
wondered if she should have told MacEwan about the babe. Would he be angry when he
found out she’d hidden his child’s existence from him? Would he ever forgive her?

Would he ever even think of her?

She buried her head on her folded arms on the table and allowed tears ease her pain.

She had no more begun to wash away her sorrow when she heard the clip-clop of Nib’s
hooves down the back passage. She wouldn’t let him see her like this. Quickly she wiped
the tears from her cheeks and raised her head.

"Now get off my back, little man."

Aeryn jerked around at the sound of Nib's name for MacEwan, not daring to believe....

But there he was, sliding off Nib’s back.

"Thanks for the ride, Nib."

The sound of his deep voice filled her ears. Had he really come to her?

"If you ever tell anyone I volunteered to give you a ride, I’ll drown you and eat you."

MacEwan laughed. "I shall keep that in mind, kelpie."

She could only stare as Nib departed without even speaking to her, leaving MacEwan
standing there, grinning at her.

"It seems, my lady Aeryn, that we have unfinished business." He strode across the cave to
her and took both her hands in his own. Bending his head slowly, he brushed his lips
across hers.

"My beloved, did I ever tell you that near my family’s keep, there is a loch more beautiful
than this one?"

The End

CURRENTS RUN DEEP

By

Shelley Munro

Chapter One

Well ... hello, gorgeous

.

Asia Bolino tried not to stare and slid slowly into the Norah Jones number, following the
cue from the accompanying musician. Her heart shifted into an erratic gallop while a
wave of heat engulfed her body. Turn around, she pleaded silently. Oh, looking good . Go
on. Turn right around. Let me get a good look at you....

Aw, rats!

Disappointment throbbed through her voice before she pulled herself together and
continued smoothly singing the song. She knew that face, and the man was off limits.
Way off limits.

Roman Anderson.

What was he doing slumming it in the Blue Venetian Nightclub?

Her mother would have a conniption if she became involved with an Anderson. Ah, well.
No harm appreciating the view. Because there was no getting away from it--the man was
a mighty fine specimen. To hear her family talk he was the devil incarnate, but jeepers,
the man oozed sex appeal. She inhaled sharply as she viewed his rear end. Yep, he looked
good from all angles.

Asia held the final note before letting it trail off. The music ended, and she smiled at the
audience, graciously accepting the applause with a regal incline of her head.

Roman Anderson was not the man for her. She sighed inwardly accepting the truth but
not liking it. Feuds were the pits, especially when they limited the gene pool for shape
shifters like her. The warring between the Transient Orcas and the Resident Orcas was
stupid and meaningless in these modern times, but Asia knew there were those who
actively encouraged the rift between the tribes.

The introductory bars of another Norah Jones favorite pulled Asia back to
professionalism. She started to sing in her trademark smoky voice pleading the audience
to come away with her. The low buzz of chatter in the nightclub faded, letting Asia know
she was doing a good job. She let her eyes drift closed, threw back her head and poured

her heart out in the music. For the three minutes of the song, she held the audience
enthralled. The music faded and for a heartbeat, there was total silence before the
applause broke out. Asia’s eyes popped open. She grinned broadly and bowed from the
waist, giving the group of businessmen at the front table, Roman Anderson included, an
excellent view of her creamy cleavage. She straightened, snagging Roman’s gaze in a
long drawn out moment. He closed one brown eye in a wink and grinned at her, robbing
her of breath.

Maybe he was adopted. She could corrupt him, she thought, taking half a step toward him
before common sense kicked in.

“That’s the end of Scarlet’s segment for now,” an announcer said over the loudspeaker.
“She’ll be back for another at midnight.”

Asia stepped down from the stage and headed to the bar for her customary glass of
sparkling water. She leaned against the shiny, wooden bar and inhaled deeply, wanting to
fan the heat from her face. She resisted, feeling a little pique. A man hadn’t affected her
this way since her ill-fated romance with her ex-manager. She should know better than to
lust after a pretty face.

Asia waited while Frank, the barman, served a group of young women out for a hen’s
night judging by the screeching and laughter. She noticed several of them were eyeing up
Roman. None of her business! But she couldn’t prevent the satisfaction that stole through
her when Roman totally ignored them.

“Hey, Frank. It’s busy tonight,” she murmured when he had finished serving the rush of
customers. The sharp tang of smoke contrasted with the sweetness of the floral scent
wafting from the young women standing beside her.

“Sure is, Scarlet.” Frank placed a glass in front of her. “Looks like someone is trying to
get your attention.” He gestured behind her with a jerk of his blond head.

Asia smelled the green, fresh scent of outdoors, then the warm muskiness of a male body.
She turned ready to voice a protest.

“Sorry, Scarlet.” Roman’s voice was husky and strummed pleasantly across her nerves. It
matched the sexy body perfectly. “I didn’t mean to crowd you. Someone pushed me.” His
brown eyes twinkled down at her, a novel experience for Asia since she hit six foot in her
bare feet and looked down at most men. “Not that I’m sorry. You feel as good as you
look.”

An uncustomary blush climbed her neck and seeped into her cheeks. Why did the enemy
have to be so sexy? So tempting?

“No problem,” she drawled, pausing to take a sip of icy water. The cool liquid soothed
her fluster until she glanced at Roman again. Shoot. He wanted her as much as she

wanted him. He obviously had no idea who she was. So what did she do now? Play safe
and tell him she wasn’t interested or walk on the wild side?

“My name is Roman Anderson.” He held out his hand to cement the formal introductions.

“Scarlet,” Asia said with a note of caution.

“Pleased to meet you, Scarlet. Could I interest you in a late supper after you’re finished
up here?”

A negative reply formed in her mind. “Yes,” she whispered. Oh, boy. Ma would lock her
up and throw away the key. Except … Asia thought rapidly and decided one night with
Roman Anderson was worth the risk. The family was away and wasn’t expected back
until the following month. Her mother had muttered something about having a yearning
for the fish off the coast of South America. No doubt they’d sample the local delicacy of
seal meat while they were there basking in the foreign waters. One date. Asia glanced at
Roman’s dark, handsome face. Hard to believe he was the killer whale monster depicted
by her family. Where was the harm in one date?

“Yes,” she repeated in a firm voice.

“Great.” The man didn’t act as though her acceptance was a given, and she liked that.
“Where should I meet you?”

Asia hesitated, trying to work out what to do to maintain secrecy yet not tip Roman off
that things were not quite right. “Outside the side entrance just after one?”

“I’ll be there,” he promised, his dark eyes glowing. “I’m looking forward to getting to
know you. Very much.”

A frisson of pure lust swept through Asia. Her gaze drifted across his face, his mouth,
and she wondered what it would feel like to touch him, to lean her weight into him.

The soft clearing of a throat jerked her back to the present. Amusement coated his smile,
bringing a renewed flush of heat to her cheeks.

“Hold that thought,” he murmured, blowing her a kiss before returning to his table.

Asia sighed, her heart thumping as if she’d finished a hundred meter sprint. The last
segment of her act couldn’t finish soon enough.

* * * *

Roman let his gaze wander over Scarlet. Statuesque. Curvy. Striking red hair that
matched her name. He wondered if the color was real before deciding it didn’t matter.
The woman oozed confidence along with sexual allure, keeping the audience enthralled

with her husky voice. It thrummed through him, jerking his cock tight in pleasurable
anticipation. He hadn’t come into the nightclub with the intention of finding a woman for
the night, but one look at Scarlet had changed his mind.

“Nice looking woman,” the man to his right murmured after noting the direction of
Roman’s gaze.

Damn, he didn’t like being so transparent. Not when there was business involved.
“Yeah,” he said finally, aware that he couldn’t push away the man without some sort of
comment. “I spoke to her when I went up to the bar. Intelligent woman.”

“Pity,” the man said with a laugh. “Sometimes uncomplicated sex is best.”

“I’ll admit I was tempted,” Roman said with a shrug. Instinct made him skirt the truth,
the fact he was meeting her later and hoped to round the evening off with a hot and heavy
session in the sack. “But once I wrap up our business discussions I’m heading back to the
island. Duty calls. I’ll have to forego pleasure this time around.”

“Yeah, I heard you live on Auckland Island. Pretty secluded place. What’s it like?”

“Some people call it the end of the Earth. My family has lived there for generations. We
like it. It

’

s home.” And perfect for their shape shifting species--the Resident Orcas.

Most of them owned land in New Zealand, some in Australia and further a field, but they
all returned to the secluded Auckland Islands, deep in the Southern Ocean where they
could change at will, frolic and hunt in the ocean without fear of detection.

“Modern technology and transport must have brought you closer,” the man observed.

“Sure. With helicopters and small planes, it means we’re not so cut off from the
mainland.” But the island still ran on a feudal system, and as head of the tribe, he was
fighting off a small, vocal group who didn’t like the old ways. Roman fought a scowl at
the thought. He was going to have to take action against the leaders before they ripped
the tribe apart. The split that had occurred thousands of years ago in their species had
done enough harm. He wouldn’t put the tribe through that again.

“Hell, I envy the man who goes to bed with her each night,” the man said in a change of
subject.

Roman nodded, his gaze remaining on Scarlet while she performed an old Marilyn
Monroe number. His breath caught halfway up his throat while his body reacted again in
a way that was purely sexual. Damn. A woman hadn’t affected him in this way since his
early teens. Suddenly Roman couldn’t wait to see where their date would lead.

* * * *

Asia stepped out of her dressing room and headed through the bar. It was empty now
save for the cleaners and with the lights on full it seemed sad and tacky, like a woman
dressed way too young for her age. A vacuum cleaner hummed and the clink of glasses
sounded as Frank stacked them into the glass washing machine.

“Night,” she called to Frank.

“See you next week,” he answered before continuing with his cleaning behind the bar.
Asia waved and headed for the side door that opened out into a small alley. Anticipation
thrummed through her body. Nervous, she licked her lips and wiped moist palms across
the seat of her black trousers. She’d left the red wig on, conscious that Roman might
recognize the long black hair or at least consider her and shape shifters for a fleeting
moment. She didn’t want the date to end before it began. Like many female Orcas, Asia
had a lock of white hair at her temple that appeared striking against her black hair. Since
she’d worked on the mainland, Asia dyed it black to avoid speculation. She thanked the
impulse that had led her to touch up her roots this morning because Roman would know
the significance of the lock of white hair.

Asia slipped out the side door and paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the dimmer light.
At the far end of the small alley, light from a streetlamp spilled in from the main street.
Asia heard the rumble of a car before it turned into the adjacent street and faded, leaving
a throbbing silence.

Fumes from rotten food rose from the rubbish skip between her and the exit of the alley.
A shadow shifted, separating from the brick wall of the nightclub. Roman was waiting. A
combination of relief and excitement fizzled through her veins. Asia paused to take a
deep breath, knowing she was running a risk yet unable to withstand the temptation. A
girl would need to be stark raving mad to turn down a date with Roman.

A metallic clang broke the night. A shout. The smack of fist against human flesh. Asia
rounded the skip at a sprint and saw three darkly clad men beating up Roman.

“Hey!” she hollered. “Stop that!”

Two of the men paused but the third plowed a fist into Roman’s belly and kicked him
viciously. Roman fell, his head colliding with the footpath in a sickening thump.

Asia rushed forward, screeching at the top of her voice. “Fire! Fire! Someone help.
There’s a fire!”

One of the men spoke in a low, guttural voice--too low for Asia to catch the words. She
kept running and almost turned her ankle in a pothole. Damned high heels! “Fire!” she
shouted, righting herself and ignoring the pain in her panic to stop them from hurting
Roman.

The three men melted away but not before one of them kicked Roman several times in
the ribs. Asia leapt at him, ready to do some damage of her own but he was too strong
and thrust her away like an unwanted piece of litter. Her butt hit the footpath with enough
force to jar her whole body. Jagged pain snaked up her spine, making her eyes water.

“Oh,” she muttered, moving gingerly to find the extent of the damage. Bruised, she
decided, but there was nothing broken.

The side door she’d exited through burst open, pummeling the brick wall with a bang.
Excited voices neared from behind, and she heard the rapid retreat of footsteps. Bother
and damn. They’d escape before anyone could do anything. She had no idea what they
looked like either since they’d worn balaclavas that hid their faces. Asia clambered to her
feet and dragged her aching body over to Roman. A nasty gash on his forehead and
another on his left cheekbone marred the previous perfection of his features. Blood
dripped down his face giving him a grotesque appearance. Asia checked his pulse. Still
breathing, but he didn’t seem conscious.

“Roman, can you hear me?”

Asia was aware he shouldn’t go to a hospital. The last thing any of them needed was a
curious doctor or lab technician. The Resident Orcas probably had their own healer the
same as their tribe did. Asia eased out a frustrated breath wondering what to do. Damn,
she couldn’t take Roman to their healer either. That would be more dangerous than the
hospital.

A groan dragged her mind away from the dilemma.

“Roman,” she whispered.

“What happened?” Frank crouched down beside them.

“Are you all right?” a cleaner asked, her wrinkled face pale with concern.

Roman struggled to sit, groaning even though Asia helped him.

“Someone attacked him,” Asia said. “Roman, you okay? Do you want to go to the
hospital?”

“No. I’m fine,” he said, but he didn’t sound like the Roman of earlier.

“I’ll call the cops. And an ambulance,” Frank added.

“No,” Asia said instinctively. On seeing Frank’s incredulous look she tried to make
things right. “I don’t think he needs an ambulance. I’ll take care of him.” Judging by the
expression on Frank’s face, she’d only succeeded in making it worse.

“What were they after? Do you think it was money?” the cleaner asked with avid
curiosity.

Asia frowned at the question. “They didn’t seem interested in stealing anything. Maybe it
was drug related.” The attack had seemed almost frenzied. Drugs were the only
explanation that made sense.

“We’d better call the cops,” Frank said, turning to head inside.

Asia stayed him with a hand on his forearm. “It’s late. I’ll do it tomorrow morning,
otherwise none of us will see our beds before daybreak.” Asia pulled out a cell phone and
pressed a speed dial number. “Cab for Scarlet at the Blue Venetian Nightclub please. Ten
minutes? Great.”

She closed the phone with a snap and glanced at Roman. His eyes were focused and
open. “You okay? Do you think anything’s broken?”

“I’m fine.” He attempted to stand and wavered a fraction before Asia wrapped her arm
around his waist to steady him. Roman didn’t look fine. His cheeks were pale and
judging by his scrunched up brow, his head ached. And his voice held only a fraction of
the self-assurance she’d noticed earlier. Asia suppressed a snort. Kind of ironic really.
She’d wanted a hot date and all that might entail, but now it looked as though she’d end
up with babysitting duties.

“You’d better go and finish up,” Frank told the cleaner. She nodded but turned away
unwillingly as if she thought she might miss something. “I’ll wait until the taxi arrives.”

A white Fairlane pulled up outside the nightclub ten minutes later as promised by the
dispatcher. Asia waved goodnight to Frank and climbed into the back seat with Roman.
The fifteen-minute trip home to her Newmarket apartment was completed in silence.
Roman lay slumped in the corner of the cab, his eyes closed. Asia cast him a worried
look. Perhaps she should have risked a visit to the hospital?

Asia leaned forward to speak to the driver. “Just in front of the car parked up there.”

The taxi pulled up, and Asia handed the driver a credit card. With the payment taken care
of, she turned to Roman. “You awake?” She gave his shoulder a gentle nudge and let out
a sigh of relief when his eyes opened and he seemed more alert.

Roman yawned. “We home?”

“Yes.” Asia grabbed her bag and slid from the cab, waiting to steady him if he needed her
help. “I’m sure you’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep.” She hoped. If he didn’t show
signs of drastic improvement tomorrow morning, she’d have to think about calling the
Transient’s healer. And that would really stir things up.

Asia slipped her arm around his waist and led him toward the entrance to the apartment
block she lived in whenever she was in the city.

“My head’s sore,” Roman mumbled. “Tired.”

“We’ll have you in bed soon,” Asia promised. Mention of bed brought an entirely
different scenario to her mind. Story of her life, she thought, shoving the vision out of her
head. It refused to leave. The play of muscles beneath her hand and his masculine scent
undid all her good resolutions to play Good Samaritan. The initial attraction she’d felt
had strengthened. Weird, considering she wasn’t one to make snap judgments. According
to her family, she was the original planner, and they didn’t say that in a nice way. Asia
admitted it. She considered things from all angles before coming to a decision, weighing
up the pros and cons. And there was nothing wrong with running her life in that way,
even if her family thought differently.

“Here we are.” Asia pulled away from Roman to rifle through her bag for her keys.

“You look very sexy tonight,” he murmured, his smoky voice sending shivers of delight
through her. “It’s a pity I’m feeling so tired. Perhaps we can discuss how sexy you look
again tomorrow morning?”

The keys slipped from her hands and landed on the tiled floor with a metallic clang. Asia
stooped to pick them up, then stood.

“What do you say? We on a promise?”

Asia felt her jaw go slack and hurriedly clamped her lips together. She hadn’t heard
wrong! “Um ... okay.” He’d probably forget he’d said that by the morning. After opening
the door, she directed Roman inside. She flicked on the hall light, paused to lock the
door, then guided him toward the bedroom--her bedroom. Asia swallowed the nerves that
leapt up from her stomach to combine in a knot at the back of her throat. Her tongue
darted out to moisten her lips.

“I’m gonna shower before hitting the sack. Okay with you, sweetheart?”

“Um, sure.” The idea of him, naked in her shower pushed her libido a notch higher. Oh,
this wasn’t fair! He’d remember everything tomorrow and head back to his island
kingdom without another word of sex or bed or anything resembling horizontal.

“You going to shower with me?”

Asia felt herself blink. Oh, man, was she tempted, but it wasn’t right to take advantage of
a man in this condition. “You need to sleep. If I shower with you we’ll get sidetracked.”

Roman’s dark gaze moved slowly down her body, then back up to her face. A sexy smile
bloomed on his battered face. “That is true,” he acknowledged. “Maybe you’re right. It’ll

be quicker if I shower on my own.” He slipped the ripped and bloody suit jacket off and
let it drop to the floor.

When he started to undo his shirt Asia decided it was time to flee. “I’ll grab you a clean
towel.” She shot from her bedroom as if a pack of Resident Orcas were after her. Her
breathing had turned choppy, and her palms were moist. She felt as though she’d swum
across the Tasman Sea from Australia to New Zealand in record time. Asia wiped the
dampness from her palms and took a deep breath. This couldn’t go on. She was an adult,
for goodness sake! With trembling hands, she tugged open the cupboard and seized
several towels.

The pipes clanked, indicating Roman had found the shower and turned on the water. Just
the image of his naked body made her break out into a cold sweat. Asia scowled.
Suddenly all she could think of was sex. The rush of pleasure at the moment of orgasm.
Doing it with Roman. Her steps slowed. She heard the shower door open and close and
imagined his naked body. Muscled. Tanned. Very touchable.

Oh, boy.

Asia fanned her flushed face. Sucking in a deep breath, she headed for the bathroom and
temptation. “He’s injured,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t be thinking about him like
this.” Besides, he’s a sworn enemy of our tribe.

Asia stepped into the bathroom, her gaze shooting toward the shower. Despite the
fragrant steam that filled the room, she could see his body without difficulty. And it was
just as spectacular as she’d imagined.

The water shut off, and the shower door opened. Asia thrust the towels at Roman, trying
hard not to stare. It was all of two seconds before her resolve weakened, and she sneaked
a peek. Powerful shoulders gave way to a tight, trim waist and slim hips. Muscles. Oh,
yeah ... muscles! Tight, toned and sexy. Asia craved a touch. The only trouble was that
he’d just been pummeled like a punching bag. She shouldn’t have sex on the brain. This
crush she had on Roman Anderson was bad news. A quick roll in the sack and a few
hasty kisses were one thing, but this insidious craving for more had to stop! Before
someone got hurt. Before she got hurt. A relationship between members of opposing
tribes was out of the question. Her family would never speak to her again, and Asia freely
admitted that would hurt. Despite their faults, she loved her family members and couldn’t
imagine going through the rest of her life never seeing them. Being isolated. A male
wasn’t worth that kind of sacrifice, not even an orca who turned her on.

“You’re going to feel sore tomorrow,” she muttered after catching his dark gaze on her
face. Damn, that was definitely interest she saw in his eyes. This had to stop. Now. Be
strong!

“Maybe,” he conceded, glancing down at his colored ribs in a disinterested manner. “I’m
tired. Just want to sleep.” He leaned closer to buzz a kiss across her lips before dropping
the towel on the floor and sauntering back to the bedroom.

Asia gaped at his bare ass and then at the wet buttercup yellow towel on the bathroom
floor. She didn’t know which disturbed her most--the expanse of naked temptation or the
fact that he expected her to pick up after him. Her astonishment turned to a scowl, and
she kicked the towel out of her way. It hit the wall and settled, damp and taunting, in a
soggy pile. A groan from the bedroom had her sprinting to investigate. She arrived beside
her queen-sized bed to see Roman sprawled out, still buck-naked and looking very
comfortable. Asia swallowed another attack of sudden lust. Her fingers itched to touch.
The front view surpassed the rear one, she decided on a decadent sigh. Jeepers, this was
not fair! Asia stepped a little closer. A soft chuckle jerked her gaze from his groin region.

“Hold that thought, babe.” He gave a sleepy grin and let his eyes drift closed. “Cause I
intend to collect on it tomorrow.”

Asia stared, studying Roman with a combination of awe and astonishment and desire. Oh,
yes, despite logic telling her seeing Roman was a mistake and her acceptance of the
problems a relationship between the two would bring, she desired him.

She wanted him.

She craved, dammit!

A gentle snore erupted, interrupting her mental struggles about what was right and
proper. At least he was sleeping and peacefully. In the morning, she’d send him on his
way and put the whole sorry episode behind her. Meantime, Roman Anderson was
sleeping in her bed. Heaving a resigned sigh, Asia collected her nightie from under the
pillow on the other side of the bed. The only thing that was going right tonight, she
decided. With a last look at Roman, she headed for the spare bedroom.

The alarm went off way too early, but thoughts of Roman had kept her awake for what
was left of the night, tossing and turning until the bedclothes were in a helpless mess.
Asia stumbled from the bed and slammed her palm down on the off button of the alarm.
The piercing racket shut off leaving blissful silence. Asia cast a longing glance at the bed
but dragged herself away, knowing she needed to check on Roman. Her steps quickened,
and she burst into her bedroom.

Roman lay on his side with his back to her. Not a sound broke the silence in the bedroom
and alarm grew in Asia. She rushed up to the bed, her heart thudding in sudden horror.
Was he dead? Had she screwed up by not taking him to the hospital? She rounded the bed
and leaned over to peer closely. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t. Asia imagined the
kafuffle and shivered inwardly. The man wasn’t breathing. With a trembling hand, she
reached out to touch his shoulder. Just as her hand touched his bare skin, he moved.

Asia let out a shriek and tried to jump away from the bed.

“Morning, babe. I missed you.” He held her fast, despite her struggles, then jerked her
onto the bed.

Asia toppled against his naked chest, shock rendering her silent for an instant.

“Where have you been? I woke up and you weren’t here.”

Asia thumped him in the middle of the chest and immediately felt guilty when he winced.
“Sorry. You gave me a fright. I thought you were sick.”

“My ribs are sore, and I have a bit of a headache, but apart from that I feel fine.” Roman
nuzzled the soft skin of her neck and shifted slightly so their bodies were aligned.

A shiver swept the length of her body, and she was acutely conscious of the fact that
Roman was naked beneath the sheet and all she wore was a thin silk nightie. She
wriggled.

“Babe, watch that wriggling.”

Asia was slow to understand, then he took her hand and placed it firmly on his morning
erection. The glint in his dark eyes confirmed exactly where his thoughts were headed.

“Um, I don’t think you ... we should do this so soon after--”

“What’s wrong with wanting to make love to my wife?” Roman demanded, and he kissed
her, sealing her denial against his lips.

Chapter Two

Roman Anderson thought they were married.

Married!

The word reverberated through her head while he continued to kiss her, nibbling at her
lips until she gasped. He took immediate advantage, his tongue sliding inside her mouth,
stroking, teasing and generally making her crazy for more of the same. He drew her
closer still, kicking free of the sheet that covered him and rolling so he pressed her deeper
into the mattress. Her heart reveled in the weight of him. His scent--her soap from his
early morning shower--drove her crazy. Touch. She wanted to touch, and ignoring the
voice of reason, she did. Trembling hands cupped his face and slid through his silky dark
hair. A moan built deep in her chest while her pulse rate doubled.

Roman eased out of the kiss and drew back to smile down at her. “How did I ever luck
out getting you to marry me?”

Asia swallowed. Someone hit you on the head! If you were in your right mind you
wouldn’t be here. Guilt rose to nip her sharply in the conscience. She had to tell him the
truth before the lie became too big. It had already taken on a life of its own.

Roman grinned. “Not going to answer. You never used to--” He broke off with a trace of
confusion, his hands tightening painfully on her shoulders. When he noticed her wince,
he grimaced an apology and bent to soothe the ache with a kiss. “What’s going on? I
don’t remember. I don’t remember how we met or our wedding day or anything.” Roman
removed his hands from her shoulders and sat up on the bed. He ran a hand through his
thick hair. “Dammit, I can’t remember your name!”

Asia sat up and wrapped her arms around his shuddering shoulders. “Shh. It’s okay,” she
murmured. “Do you remember last night?”

She held her breath, awaiting his answer.

“I remember waking up on the ground in that alley,” he said after a long silence. “But
that’s it!”

His frustration was clear, but Asia wasn’t about to tell him they were mortal enemies. Or
at least their families were. And she wasn’t about to try to contact his family either. That
would be suicide. “It will be okay,” she repeated. “Obviously the thump on your head has
affected your memory. Do you feel any pain? Should I take you to the hospital? You
didn’t want to go last night.”

“I feel about as good as a man can expect after being thumped by a bunch of thugs. I
don’t think I like hospitals,” Roman said, a grimace highlighting his words. “There’s this
sort of panicky sensation inside me the moment I hear the word.”

Asia wasn’t surprised. The need for secrecy was bred into them and reinforced from the
moment their mothers pushed them out of the deep water for their first breath. Fear of
discovery kept their species alive in this modern world.

Roman’s savage curse broke into her thoughts. “Damn, you’d think I’d remember my
wife’s name.”

“Asia. My name is Asia.”

He stared at her intently before nodding. “Yeah. Okay. That fits you. Exotic and beautiful
just like you. What happened to the hair?”

Oh, shit. She’d forgotten about taking the wig off. She thanked her lucky stars again that
she’d touched up the regrowth a few days earlier so not a bit of the giveaway orca white
showed at her temple. “I use the wig for my singing act.”

“So I’m the only one that sees the real you,” he murmured, his voice low and throaty and
full of sexual promise.

A tingle sprang to life at her breasts. Her nipples puckered against the silk of her
nightgown.

Roman reached out and used the tip of one finger to trace along the neckline of her gown.
Asia’s breath caught. His finger dipped, traveling into bountiful cleavage.

“I think my wife is beautiful.”

“But I’m not--”

Roman captured her denial against his lips and she wasn’t about to deny herself the
expertise of his mouth. She’d tell him later, she thought, her mind fogging and unable to
think much past the man who seemed intent on having his wicked way with her.

“I think this should go,” he murmured when they came up for air. Before she could voice
a protest, he had the silk nightgown off and flying through the air. Asia watched with
resignation as the silk puddled to a stop in the middle of her bedroom floor. The man
seemed to have a penchant for dropping things on the floor.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. “God, how could I forget your perfection? Your breasts are
beautiful.” He cupped the creamy curves with his tanned hands, and lifted one to his
mouth. “Big, luscious and beautiful. Just the way I like.” His eyes drifted shut as he
concentrated on taste and sensation.

Asia felt torn even as the feel of his mouth drawing on her nipple pulled her deeper into
his sensual spell. She wanted to tell the truth but didn’t want to end the pleasure that his
fingers and mouth set alight. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. Damn, the man was a
magician and they hadn’t even gotten to the good part yet. She bit down harder. It sure as
heck looked as though they were heading for the good part. Maybe she’d tell him ... later.
After all, they would have ended up in bed last night if the date had taken its course.
Maybe. Probably, she acknowledged in a burst of honesty. Roman Anderson would be
difficult to resist.

He sucked on her nipple, using his mouth and teeth. Small arrows of pain darted the
length of her body, setting her body on edge. Asia squirmed, and he lifted his head. His
dark eyes glowed.

“Are you going to touch me? I’m sure I’d like that. Don’t I?” The boyish uncertainty
melted the last remnants of her guilt.

There was nothing wrong with having sex with a man. Asia pushed aside the fact that
their tribes were sworn enemies, deciding to enjoy the moment.

“Let’s see, shall we?” She smiled as the apprehension melted from his eyes.

He lay back on the mattress and shifted until he was spread eagle on the bed. “Do your
worst.”

Asia sat back on her heels to look her fill. The knowledge that he was watching her made
her feel hot. Powerful.

“Don’t make me wait too long. I’m ready now. Very ready,” he added with a rueful
glance at his erect cock.

“I can see that.” Asia’s gaze slid down his body to his erection. Long. Hard. Thick. He
was ready all right. Asia moved closer. She bent over him and pressed a quick kiss to his
lips. “Don’t move an inch,” she warned. One look at his face told her the order amused
him.

“What are you going to do?”

“Wait and see.” She pinched his nipple hard enough to make him jump.

“Perhaps the gaps in my memory are a good thing. It’s like we’re making love for the
first time. I noticed that I don’t have any clothes in the bedroom here. Are we separated?”

Oh, boy. The lie just got better and better while she managed to dig a bigger hole to drop
into. “I--”

“Let’s talk after. Please,” he said. “I want to make love to you so badly. What ever is in
the past can stay there. This is a chance for a new beginning. For both of us.” His hand
snaked around her neck, tugging her off balance so she fell against his chest. He winced a
fraction but held her in place despite his bruises and sore muscles.

Their lips met and mated in a slow kiss that sent shockwaves racing through her body.
Roman took them deeper, making the kiss more aggressive. Hungry. Tongues dueled,
thrusting and parrying in a harbinger of the consummation to come. He rolled, his
biddable and accepting self fading away to be replaced by the alpha male. Asia took the
coward’s way out and let him. It wasn’t difficult since his touch sent her soaring and
wiped away her uncertainties.

He kissed down her neck and dallied at the hollow at her throat. His lips skirted her
collarbone, gently biting, then soothing the nip with a wet kiss. Tormenting her. Each
kiss, each love bite, drove her need higher until she wanted to demand he touch her
breasts, trail his hand along her moist cleft to find her swollen clit. The thought made her
fidget. She needed his mouth, his hands....

Asia cupped a breast with her hands, offering it to him. “Kiss my breast again,” she
whispered.

“With pleasure.” His smoky voice slid across her nerve endings. Her pulse raced, and in
the intimate juncture between her thighs, her body moistened, readying for his
penetration.

He nuzzled her breasts with his mouth, but this time didn’t take her nipple into his mouth.
No, this time he teased her until she wanted to beg for his mouth exactly where she
wanted it. His mouth drifted lower, and he pressed moist kisses to her ribcage and her
belly. Asia’s breath stalled before an ache in her chest reminded her to breathe. Roman
moved down the bed and parted her legs. Shyness hit her for an instant until she
remembered they were supposedly married. Grief, she’d never carry off this charade.
Asia made a conscious effort to relax, and he made an approving sound deep in his throat.

“You’re going to have to tell me what I did that’s made you so wary,” he whispered. “But
not now. Let’s concentrate on having fun and making each other feel good.” He
punctuated his disturbing and perceptive comments with more kisses. One on her
abdomen. One on her hipbone. A kiss on her pelvic bone. Asia’s heart pumped out a few
extra beats. She arched up in a silent demand for a more intimate kiss. A chuckle sounded
as he nipped the tender skin of her inner thigh. Asia jumped and steeled herself for
another nip. Instead he licked her inner thigh in ever increasing circles coming closer and
closer to where she needed his touch most.

“Yes,” she whispered. “No more teasing. Please.”

“But it’s so much fun teasing you,” he murmured, his warm breath puffing against her
engorged nub.

A sharp spike of pleasure shot the length of her body.

“Your breathing changes and you make these cute little whimpers at the back of your
throat when I do something you particularly like.” He licked a delicate trail the length of
her cleft, circling her aching clit but not touching enough to give her relief from the sharp
need that pulsed through her.

“Yeah, that’s it. Whimper for me again, babe.” He licked again, but this time made a
brief foray across her clit.

A shower of tingles burst to life, and she heard herself whimper but didn’t feel the
slightest bit of mortification. Damn that felt good. When he repeated the process, she
waited until his tongue was almost there and jerked her hips upward. A bolt of sensation
seared her with the extra contact.

“Yes,” she moaned. “More.”

Roman chuckled. “That was sneaky.” He shifted away, putting more distance between
them than Asia thought was necessary.

“I don’t like teasing.” Because her conscience kept screaming at her, Asia wanted them to
move things along. Once they’d done the deed, they couldn’t stop. Stopping right now
before culmination was gonna kill her, but if he didn’t hurry her conscience was going to
win out.

“Hmm.” Roman smiled. “Close your eyes, babe.”

“So you can tease me some more?”

“Go on. Close your beautiful eyes for me.”

Asia stared at him for a long moment before obeying. She felt his hands on her hips and
the dip of the mattress when he shifted positions.

“Are your eyes still closed?”

“Yes,” Asia said, unable to keep the bite of impatience from her answer.

He laughed again, a short burst of humor before silence took over. Asia heard her
breathing, loud and choppy once again. She heard the faint tick of her alarm clock from
where it sat over on the far side of the bedroom on a dressing table. But she couldn’t hear
what Roman was doing. She wasn’t sure whether she should worry or not. So far he
hadn’t done anything to alarm her, and there was nothing in his reputation to alarm her
either. Rumor said he’d had a few serious relationships and that they’d remained friends.
Asia strained to hear any sound that would clue her in on what she could expect.
Something sexy. Something pleasurable. She hoped. Her breasts ached. Nerves danced in
her stomach while lower, a series of small pulses deep in her womb made her fidget. The
fact that her legs were parted and her pussy open to his inspection intensified her arousal.
She was wet and so ready for him. Why wasn’t the dratted man hurrying?

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “So easy to love you.”

Asia’s eyes flew open at his declaration. He stroked his hand the length of his cock, his
dark gaze meeting hers for a moment. The flush of arousal in his eyes stole her breath.
Then, before shock finished reverberating through her, he pinned her with his greater
bulk, guided his cock to the mouth of her pussy and thrust inside. The sudden penetration
took her by surprise, and a gasp escaped as she struggled to take him. Roman hadn’t used
birth control. She froze, trapped in her lies. If they were married it wouldn’t matter or
he’d assume she was taking a form of birth control.

“Okay?” he demanded, holding himself in check for an instant.

Stretched to capacity all she could do was nod and hold tight to his shoulders. His naked
cock felt great, and she loved the fact there was nothing between them. The thought
brought a surge of juices. The chances of her conceiving were low since orca didn’t breed

often or easily. She’d hope for the best and deal with the consequences later should the
need arise.

He withdrew and surged back inside her, her womb clutching greedily this time. Roman
repeated the move again, stroking steadily until Asia shuddered. Their mouths met.
Mated, in a moist erotic duel. Roman’s hands cupped her butt and deepened the angle of
penetration.

“Was it always this good?” he murmured when their lips parted.

Asia trembled, each of Roman’s strokes pushing her higher, closer to orgasm. He pulled
back and slammed back home with increasingly urgent hunger. Her hips jerked, and she
felt a tightening sensation deep in her womb. The streaks of pleasure rushed together,
converging in an immense explosion of sensation. He slammed into her again, then
stilled. Asia felt the powerful jet of semen deep inside when he came and clasped him
tighter. When he finally relaxed, he rolled them both over and arranged her against his
chest. A man who liked to cuddle. Who’d have guessed? Asia gave a satisfied sigh and
melted against his sweaty chest.

That was the best sex she’d ever had, and suddenly Asia wanted to keep him.

Chapter Three

“There’s nothing familiar about the house at all?” Asia had just finished showing Roman
around the house she owned north of Auckland on the wild west coast. She’d decided to
bring him up to her territory rather than hang out at the family apartment. The couple of
weird phone calls she’d received before they left had sealed her decision.

“Nothing at all,” he said in a terse voice that pulled her out of stressing and dumped her
into guilt territory. For all of two seconds. Although Roman was frustrated with his loss
of memory, Asia wanted to screech her relief out loud. The pretence could carry on. She
knew it was wrong--she really did, but when would she have such an opportunity again?
The chance to be herself with one of her own. They could go swimming off the coast
together, hunt fish and play together in their killer whale forms. She’d only ever been
able to do that with her family. Swimming with a lover sounded like fun. A bolt of sheer
lust went through her. They could repeat this morning.

All day if they wanted.

Her body moistened when she imagined Roman possessing her again. And her doing
things to Roman, touching him intimately, tasting him intimately. A shiver wracked her
body.

“Cold, babe?”

“Not exactly.” The amusement she saw in his dark gaze made her look away with another
surge of guilt. She was doing the right thing, wasn’t she? Of course she was, especially
since a nagging instinct told her that the weird phone calls had something to do with the
attack on Roman. She didn’t like the idea that they’d followed them to her apartment, but
it was possible.

“Why don’t you want to go to the doctor?” she asked, deciding that it would seem strange
if she didn’t push. The lump on the back of his head was huge, though it didn’t seem to
slow him down.

“I don’t know.” Roman paced past her to the window. He pushed aside the creamy net
curtain to stare outside, then let it fall back into place. He walked over to the dresser and
plucked a silver backed hairbrush off the top. Thumping it down again, he turned to face
her with a scowl. “I can’t explain it. I don’t understand it, but the thought of visiting a
doctor fills me with fear.” He gave a sudden crooked grin that charmed Asia and made
her want to smother him with kisses. “Bet you didn’t know your husband was so weird.”

“I did actually.” Asia sauntered toward him, not stopping until her arms were wound
around his neck. She grinned up at him and ruffled his dark curls, taking care to avoid the
knot on the back of his head. “That’s part of why I love you. Your charm.”

A dark brow rose. “That it?”

“And your expertise in bed,” Asia added. As she watched, his other eyebrow rose, and
her mouth dropped open. “I wish I could do that. My eyebrows don’t work
independently.”

“It’s a gift. We can burn up the sheets any time you want. Any time. Any place, and I’m
yours.”

“We have time this week to do whatever you want.” Asia pushed aside the ramifications
of him regaining his memory. Instinctively, she knew his memory would return. No
doubt, he’d never speak to her ... or worse it could cause further trouble between tribes.
Asia was determined to make it clear that she was the one at fault. Asia didn’t care about
a personal backlash. She’d made her bed and by heck, she wanted to lie in it.

“Do you know what I’d like most of all?”

“Judging by the serious look on your face I’d say it’s not sex, more’s the pity.” Asia
smoothed her fingers across his wrinkled brow. “Is your head aching?”

“A bit. I’m fine.” He shrugged off her concern and stepped out of reach, telling Asia
without words that he was tired of her fussing. “I’d like to go for a walk along the beach.
I think I like the sea and swimming.”

Roman wondered at the sharp look that Asia narrowed on him. Part astonishment and
part shock. It made him wonder if he’d done the right thing in not asking more questions
about their every day lives.

“A walk sounds great,” she murmured, avoiding his gaze again.

Roman stood back and let Asia precede him. What the hell had happened to blow their
relationship apart? It sure as hell wasn’t anything to do with sex because they
communicated perfectly in that sphere. Roman’s rueful grin lit on Asia’s curvy butt. Any
more perfect and he’d have trouble walking.

They walked out the front door, down two steps, and they were on the beach. Asia paused
to remove her shoes and chucked them up near the door. Roman did likewise, relishing
the heat of the black iron sand under his feet. He reached for Asia’s hand and tugged her
closer, the salty tang in the air relaxing the tight pressure he felt banding around his chest.
Overhead a lone gull rode a stream of wind while the crash of the breakers as they raced
to shore was infinitely relaxing. The coil of tension released even further.

“Do I like the water?” A gut instinct told him he loved swimming, but he wanted
confirmation.

A gamine grin flashed. “That’s what I like about the house. The privacy.” She stopped
walking and started undressing.

Roman stared, then smirked as she revealed her body piece by piece with the finesse of a
professional stripper. A cotton shirt. A lacy bra. Denim shorts. Pink cotton panties.

“Last one in is a rotten egg.” Asia sprinted down the beach leaving him standing above
the watermark still staring. It was hard not to stare at his wife. Tall and curvy enough that
he felt safe holding her tight. He didn’t worry about squashing her or crushing a rib.
Roman’s gaze wandered down her back, and lingered at her trim waist before he started
to strip.

Damn, he was a lucky man.

He rapidly shucked his clothes, leaving them in an untidy heap, and hurried into the surf.
The water was cool against his heated skin. This had been a good idea. Already the
aching at his temples had ceased. He cut through the water, diving through the waves
when they approached, steadily gaining on Asia. He heard her laugh above the roar of the
surf and grinned. Oh, yeah. He liked the water all right, but making love to his wife was
going to take priority. She couldn’t flaunt her luscious body at him without reprisals. He
lunged, but she evaded him and stopped a few feet away to grin.

“Headache gone?” she asked.

“Yeah, it has. How did you know?” Roman realized that not only had his headache
vanished, he felt great. Invigorated. He swam a few lazy strokes until he was close
enough to touch Asia. The sun shone down from overhead, a soft breeze blew, and Asia
trod water right next to him. Roman slid his arms around her neck and drew her flush
with his naked body. The sun caught the droplets of water on her face, making her
sparkle. He felt a tight sensation around his heart as though a fist squeezed it. A lump
formed in his throat. Roman swallowed and lowered his head to taste her. Their lips
moved together leisurely as if they had all the time in the world.

Asia pulled away to survey him intently. “Do you feel an urge?”

“Always,” he replied, smirking. “I want to slide deep into your womb and love you until
you scream.”

She swallowed and an expression that might have been panic or something else flitted
across her face. “I’d like that too, but that’s not what I meant.”

A wave knocked them together, their bodies jostling until it passed and continued on its
journey to shore. His erection brushed against her abdomen, and he squeezed his eyes
closed to enjoy the teasing sensation. The promise of what would come when they loved
each other. Suddenly his skin prickled. A warning? Or something else. His eyes snapped
open to see Asia still studying him intently. As if she knew something he didn’t.

“Watch me,” she said. “Hold the image you see in your mind, and the change should
occur. I hope.” Asia pulled away from him leaving him in confusion. Image? What the
hell was she talking about? Roman groped for understanding, knowing from her serious
expression he’d missed something important.

“I don’t--” He broke off, his eyes widening in shock. The air around her shimmered, and
it had nothing to do with the glint of the sun. It was Asia. As he stared, her face
lengthened. She transformed before his eyes into a sleek black and white fish. Long and
streamlined with a dorsal fin.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. That was no fish. She’d turned into a killer whale in front of his
eyes.

Asia swam around him in a tight circle before backing away and poking her head and
flippers from the water. Then, she sank out of sight. Spy-hopping. He dredged the word
from his befuddled mind. What did she mean hold the image? Roman scowled. He might
like swimming, but he wasn’t a damn fish. Was that why she’d acted so uneasy earlier
on, when her behavior and actions didn’t fit? Because she’d hoped to hide their
differences? A hollow feeling punched him in the gut.

He was married to a fish.

The whale--Asia--swam closer, and if a whale could frown that’s what she was doing.
She nudged him roughly in the chest, hard enough that he went under the water. When he
came up spluttering, she waited for him. Her mouth gaped open revealing large white
teeth that curved backwards toward her throat. Asia pulled away and rolled suddenly onto
her side. She slapped her fin onto the surface of the water. One. Twice. Three times. Salt
water smacked Roman in the face and a rogue wave took him by surprise. He came up
gasping for air and pissed off.

“That’s enough.” Roman turned away from Asia and swam strongly, catching a wave and
body surfing to shore. He turned his head slightly to see Asia keeping pace with him
without even trying. Stumbling to his feet, he waded from the water desperate for some
peace and time to come to terms with his discovery. Splashing beside him attracted his
attention. “Go away.” He couldn’t speak any blunter than that.

Worry knotted Asia’s throat, jamming up words of denial. He was looking at her as if she
was some kind of monster. Panic, the like of which she’d never felt before, sapped her
strength. She shifted back to human form even as she glided onto the sandy beach. The
usual pleasure she derived from the ocean seeped away, leaving a yawning, aching throb
in her chest and at the back of her eyes. This was her punishment for lying to Roman.
She’d been sure that once he’d immersed himself in the water instinct would take over. It
hadn’t.

To put it simply, she was screwed.

And she had no idea what to do to make everything right.

“Roman.” Asia hated the pleading note she heard in her voice. One lay and a few kisses
and she was thinking permanent. How sad was that? The ache at the back of her eyes
intensified.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” He presented her with his back and strode off.

Sudden fury whipped through Asia. He was not going to pull that crap on her. He could
damn well talk to her whether he wanted to or not. She ran after him and grabbed hold of
his shoulder. He attempted to shrug her off but she persisted until he whirled to face her.

“What?”

“I’m not a monster, dammit.”

“No, you’re a freak. A fish.”

Asia let rip before she thought things through. Her bunched fist connected with his jaw,
snapping his head back. “I am an orca,” she gritted out. “I eat fish, dammit.”

Asia glared at him. Her chest heaved--her naked chest--and she decided that arguing
naked in the middle of the beach, even though it was her private beach, was not the
wisest course. “Fine,” she snapped. “We can talk about it later, but you might like to
know that you’re a shifter, too.” His face paled, and Asia took great satisfaction from
that. For a fleeting instant. Shame crept in on the heels of her silent gloating.

Roman’s mouth worked. He swallowed. “I don’t believe it.” Underlying the words was a
trace of panic. He really doubted her--it was there in his face, and as she watched, anger
boiled up to cope with his confusion. “I am not a fish.”

“No, you’re a great big bloody stubborn whale.” She threw up her hands like a drama
queen and flounced back into the ocean. Fine. Let him think that. She’d give him time to
cool off and take a little time out herself. Asia checked the vicinity for prying eyes, then
smoothly shifted and dived into the cool ocean. She swam hard and fast, sending schools
of startled fish flitting away in terror. The need to breathe drove her to the surface. Asia
drove upward, leaping clear of the water in a graceful breach. She landed back in the
water with a mighty splash and swam hard and fast again, trying to outrun her frenzied
thoughts. Would Roman accept her word? Would he even still be there when she returned
to her house?

Three hours later, invigorated and more at peace with herself, she headed back for the
beach and her house. She’d come to the conclusion that she couldn’t force Roman to
accept his heritage. Acceptance needed to come from him.

Asia ambled up the beach, aware of trepidation despite her decision. Making love with
Roman had awoken feminine needs long suppressed. She’d always thought Roman
Anderson looked like a good man despite what the rest of her family thought. Now she
knew it. The man possessed humor and goodness. The great body didn’t hurt either. She
sighed. Unfortunately, the long held crush had turned into a stronger emotion.....

She walked up to where she’d left her clothes. They were gone.

Asia kicked at a pile of sand. Childish. Stupid. All because she’d told him the truth. She
stomped up the footpath and wrenched the door open.

“Roman?” She slammed the door and stormed through the open plan living area to the
kitchen. “Roman!” He’d left. Figured.

“In here,” a masculine voice called.

Asia halted. “Roman?”

“In the bedroom.”

Asia reached her bedroom in three large steps. She stood in the doorway and stared at the
naked male, relaxed and at ease with his unclothed state.

“I’m sorry. I still don’t remember anything, but I came to the conclusion that you
wouldn’t lie to me. Not about this.”

“Thanks.” Asia leaned against the doorjamb, trying not to focus on the family jewels. “I
think.”

A slow grin crept across his face. He’d noticed exactly where she was looking. “Wanna
make up?” His dark brows waggled up and down. “How about it?”

“On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“That you never call me a fish again.” Asia folded her arms over her chest and met his
gaze with a challenging one of her own. “Well?”

“Fair enough, since you insist I’m one too.”

Asia straightened and padded over to the bed. An arm snaked out, jerking her off balance.
She landed with a soft oomph . He held her firmly, aligning their bodies until she felt
every inch of him caressing her body. Roman rolled without warning, grinning down at
her.

“You’re an orca the same as me. That’s part of why I didn’t push you about seeking
medical treatment. We can’t see doctors in case our differences are noted. None of us
want to be treated like lab rats.”

Roman traced his fingers across one breast, following the fine network of veins beneath
her skin. His eyes were dark and serious when he looked at her again. “I can understand
shape shifters wanting to maintain secrecy. Do you think my conditioning kicked in and I
instinctively refused medical attention?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Why were we separated? Was there someone else involved? I noticed that all my clothes
are in the other bedroom.”

And the questions became harder and more difficult, the lie tightening around her neck
like a noose. “I...” Asia shrugged helplessly, her stomach bucking up and down. The
truth. She needed to tell him the truth. “We aren’t--”

Roman’s hand covered her mouth. “Wait. Let’s take this situation as a second chance.
Maybe that’s why it’s happened. An omen.”

Asia’s breath eased out against the palm of his hand. Relief shot through her. A second
chance. Stupidly, she found herself nodding when she knew nothing good could come of

taking the pretence further. Sooner or later Roman would regain his memory and find
himself in bed with the enemy.

“Good. We’re decided.” He removed his hand and pressed his lips to hers. Slowly, he
pulled away. “No more discussions about f ... ah, whales! We’ll make love instead.”
Roman licked the column of her throat. Her heart went pitter-patter, knocking so hard
against her ribs it was a wonder Roman didn’t hear and speculate as to the cause. “I’m
going to make love to you with my mouth,” he murmured. “I’m going to taste you and
love you until I make you scream.”

Something deep within her belly fluttered. Her pulse quickened.

“You taste like the sea. Salty. Sexy.” With each husky word he moved until his face was
level with her breasts. The coral colored nipples puckered as they both watched. Asia bit
back a groan. The man made her so hot, so needy.

He pinched one nipple. A sharp shard of pain-pleasure ripped the length of her body. Her
pussy moistened in reaction. Another pinch made her moan. She’d never liked pain
before, but with Roman it was different.

His tongue darted out to bathe the small nip he’d inflicted. She ached for the suction of
his mouth, the sting of his teeth.

“Please,” she whispered in a thick voice that she barely recognized.

“I don’t suppose we have any toys hidden away in the drawers or in the depths of the
wardrobe?” He punctuated his words with a nip at the underside of one plump breast.

“Toys?” Asia stared, shock and curiosity warring. “We haven’t tried anything like that
before,” she finally ventured.

Roman frowned. “No? I could have sworn we--never mind. Hold that idea. We can
improvise.” He stood and gazed down at her with hooded eyes. “Part your legs for me.
Yeah, just like that. Now touch yourself.”

Shock--one piled on top of another. Did he...? Yeah, he did. And he’d think it strange if
she didn’t go along with his wishes. Especially as it seemed the depths of his memory
were providing him with sexual history, both likes and dislikes. Asia slid her hand across
her belly.

The very corners of his mouth lifted in approval. “Show me what you like.”

Asia’s eyes slid to half-mast as her hand crept across her smooth pelvic bone and lower
still.

“Keep your eyes open and on me,” he ordered. “I want to see your beautiful eyes.”

Her heart thundered as her finger slid down between her legs, dragging lightly on moist
feminine flesh. Roman’s eyes on her, watching her every reaction, intensified the rush of
pleasure. A gush of arousal flooded her pussy. Her finger slid across slippery folds and
circled her swollen clitoris.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Keep going but don’t let yourself come. Can you do that for
me?”

Desire, strong and powerful, throbbed through Asia. Her finger lightly circled her clit as
she teased and stoked the fires inside higher. At the back of her mind, she heard footsteps
when Roman left the bedroom. A shiver ran through her. She thrust her hips upward,
working her finger and hips in countermoves.

Roman returned. “That’s good, babe. How do you feel?”

“Empty,” Asia said in a thick voice.

“I can fix that for you, babe. Take your hand away now. Let me tend to you.”

Tend to her. Asia heard herself pant. Touching herself in front of Roman had lit passion
and need that she’d never felt before. “Please,” she whispered. He could do anything he
wanted as long as he made her come.

Roman touched her flesh. Lightly. So softly she wasn’t really sure. Then he touched her
again and she was sure. A tremble swept through her. Her womb clenched tight, and Asia
bit down hard on her bottom lip, feeling as though she was poised on the edge of a cliff
and would topple at the slightest push. Her eyes closed and the coiling tension intensified.
Her chest rose and fell, and she tried to anticipate where or when he would touch her
next. His fingers. His mouth. Lord, she hoped he’d use his mouth. Just the thought of his
mouth kissing her intimately made her sex clench hard.

As if he sensed she was close, too close, he stopped teasing. A finger dragged the length
of her cleft, then thrust inside her needy body. Chills raced across her flesh at the
invasion. She wanted to come so badly yet contrarily, she wanted to string out sensual
experience.

“That’s it, babe. Relax,” he whispered in a voice that would tempt an angel.

Asia was no angel.

Then she felt the moist touch of his tongue. He soothed the ache before tempting her
higher, flailing her achy clit with his tongue, sucking softly with his mouth. The whole
time he kept up a lazy thrust and withdrawal of his finger. Roman added another finger,
stretching her until she felt pleasantly full. Pleasure coursed through her body, swirling
and lifting her higher and higher until it swamped her. One final delicate lick pushed her

into orgasm. She gasped, convulsing, her womb clamping down on his fingers for long,
delicious moments.

Asia’s eyes fluttered open to find Roman grinning up at her.

“Again.”

Immediately, her womb clenched.

“Good,” he said, withdrawing his fingers. He slid up her body and kissed her hard and
passionately. She tasted herself on him when his tongue delved deep into her mouth. His
heavy thigh pushed between her legs insistently until she parted them even wider. With
one quick stroke, he surged inside her tight sheath. She shuddered delicately at the full
sensation.

So good.

Perfect.

He stroked strongly, brushing against her engorged flesh, driving her high again into a
place where sensation ruled. And just like that, Asia toppled head over heels and
irrevocably in love with her enemy.

Chapter Four

“I’d like to go swimming again.” Roman nuzzled her neck and blew a light stream of
warm air into her ear.

“That tickles.” Asia tried to squirm away but her limbs refused to obey. Her whole body
felt like builder’s putty. The days since their arrival had slipped away, full of loving and
togetherness. Roman hadn’t regained his memory or the ability to shift. Asia tried not to
worry, concentrating on loving him instead, but the future was like a ticking bomb.

“A swim,” he persisted.

Asia lifted her arm just enough to check the time. A groan emerged. “It’s the middle of
the night.”

“Then no one will see us,” he countered, blowing again across the whorls of her ear. “I
want you to explain to me how you shift. What do you do to start the process?”

Asia studied him closely. She didn’t want to argue with him, not after the incredible days
they’d spent together. She inhaled deeply, trying to decide how to handle his questions. It
wasn’t easy deciding when the scent of their loving filled the room, reminding Asia of
her treachery. “My mother told me it’s different for every shifter. Changing forms isn’t
instinctive.” Asia frowned. “Maybe that’s why you’re having trouble.”

“Are you sure I’m an orca?” His gaze was intent, demanding answers.

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure,” Asia whispered. She’d seen him in person, seen him changing and
flirting with female killer whales from his own tribe as they swam together through the
Cook Strait.

“I thought the shifting thing might have been the problem between us.” Roman tucked a
lock of hair away from her face, his eyes holding questions that wanted answers.

Asia didn’t want to respond, but she had to say something. He’d obviously been thinking
about their relationship during the last few days. “No,” she said, relieved she could utter
the truth, even if it was layered with lies.

“A third party?”

“No!”

“I didn’t think so.” Smugness coated his words. “We’re too hungry for each other.”

Because it was new, Asia thought, though it had never been like this with another male,
either orca or human. Bother. She wished he’d quit with his questions. Diversion. Now.
“When I want to shift, I picture an orca in my mind and hold the image there. The change
happens naturally as long as I hold the picture in my mind. When I want to shift back I
picture my human image. It’s hard to explain.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Roman shrugged. “I think I should contact my family. I do have a
family?”

Asia swallowed her alarm and wished the ground would do the same to her. How the
heck did she sidestep this? His family would eat her for breakfast. “Yes,” she whispered.
The Transient tribe told horror stories about the Resident rebels to the young calves to
keep them in line. Asia shuddered. In all honesty, she thought the legends held enough
truth that she should worry about the repercussions of crossing the Resident tribe.

“They’re away on holiday. I thought about trying to contact them up in the islands, but
they’re probably keeping to orca form, which makes things difficult. And your mother
hasn’t been well. I didn’t want to worry her needlessly.”

Asia watched him closely as the lies slipped glibly off her tongue. He frowned, lines
bracketing his sexy mouth before they smoothed away. “You’re right, babe. I wouldn’t
want to worry my family.”

Asia relaxed and offered him a tentative smile. Crisis averted, at least for the moment.
Gossip told her that Roman’s mother still lived. His father had died some time ago. Asia
knew he had younger brothers but didn’t know their names or anything else about them.

She needed to divert him. “I’ve been thinking. It’s probably better if we let you regain
your memories naturally rather than me filling the gaps for you.”

“But you’ll help me with the shifting.” He made it a statement.

“You’ve worn me out. I need to sleep.”

“We’re not going to sleep if we stay here. I want you again.” He took her hand and
placed it on his erect penis. Her fingers wrapped around his cock instinctively.

“You’re definitely an orca,” she murmured with a rueful grin. “Orcas like sex.”

“That a fact?”

“Yeah.” Asia bent toward him and bit his chest. At his mock growl, she danced out of
reach and winced at the protest of well-used muscles. “Perhaps swimming isn’t such a
bad idea. Might unkink my muscles.”

Concern shaded his face as he rapidly closed the distance between them. “Was I too
rough?”

Asia ran her hand across his broad chest. The skin was warm beneath her fingers and
tempting. She wanted to bite but refrained. This time. “Nothing a good massage wouldn’t
cure,” she said, her tone teasing.

The ring of the phone cut through the throbbing atmosphere that had sprung up between
them.

Asia glanced away and couldn’t prevent the stain of color that rushed to her cheeks.
They’d made love several times and all she could think of was more. “Ah, I’d better get
that. It’s probably my agent.”

“This late?”

“You’d have to know my agent to understand.”

The phone rang again, and Asia hurried to answer. “Mark, what time is this to ring?”

“Secrets,” a voice whispered.

“I think you have the wrong number,” Asia said, grimacing at Roman.

“You have secrets,” the voice repeated. Asia had no idea if it was a male or female.
“Secrets have a way of coming out when you least expect.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You have the wrong number.” Asia dropped the
phone back in the cradle, shoving aside the insidious fear crawling through her veins.
“I’ll go swimming if you give me a massage when we get back. And bring me breakfast
in bed tomorrow morning.” She smiled, trying to act naturally. Had it been a wrong
number or did someone know something about Roman? She willed the phone not to ring
again, and when it didn’t her alarm seeped away. Coincidence. Pure coincidence, she
tried to tell herself. It didn’t work.

“I think I could arrange breakfast in bed. And a massage.” Pure sex and lust sparkled in
his dark eyes.

For an instant she was tempted to seduce him immediately. But then Asia thought about
the phone calls she’d received before they left the Auckland apartment to drive north.
Hang ups. Not one but four. Alone, they were nothing distressing. Taken together with
Roman’s attack, they were altogether more ominous especially since they’d started here.
Someone knew and was biding their time.

“Okay, you’ve talked me into it.” She held out her hand. “Let’s go.”

Hand in hand they walked out the door and down the footpath that led to the beach. The
sky was a deep inky-blue black, and the moon peeped out from behind a bank of clouds.
It was as if they were the only beings in existence. The mournful cry of a morepork rang
out, piercing her complacency. Orca legend said that the owl-like creature’s warning
meaning bad luck to come. Asia shivered with a sudden chill, the hair prickling on her
bare arms and legs. Common sense told her that the cry came from a nocturnal predator
intent on finding his evening meal, but uneasiness still made her jumpy. The situation
with Roman was running out of control and each day, each minute she felt herself drawn
deeper into the lie.

“What happens if I can never change to an orca again?” Roman stopped and placed his
hands on her bare shoulders. A crease marred the perfection of his brow. “Will you still
love me if we can’t swim together?”

Asia stared, the knot of shame and apprehension clogging her throat and preventing her
from replying straight away. She cleared her throat with a sharp cough. “Of course I
will,” she said, her voice emerging not much louder than a whisper.

“That’s good,” Roman said tightly, “Because I don’t mind admitting that I’m frightened.
I keep trying to remember what it’s like to swim as an orca. I can’t remember a damn
thing.” His hands clenched around her shoulders, his fingers digging painfully into her
flesh.

“Big, bad Roman Anderson frightened?” Asia winked and attempted to lighten the
moment by teasing.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Stupid, huh? But if you tell anyone I’ll deny everything. Friends
and family.” He exhaled loudly, the sound telling her of his anguish at his loss of
memory. Her stomach roiled with guilt. Friends. She hadn’t thought of friends looking
for him. Family, yes, but not friends. If she told him the truth, would it help? Roman’s
hands dropped away, leaving her feeling bereft. Asia sighed inwardly. In truth, she
doubted her actions would differ if she had the time over again. Not when she’d lusted
after him for so long. And now she loved him....

What a mess.

“I’m sure you’ll rediscover how to shift forms soon. And remember your family. Your
friends. Maybe not tonight, but soon.” Asia wished she had the guts to take him to the
Transient’s healer. But the healer was an old man, who should have been an old woman,
given that he gossiped so much. She couldn’t risk it. While there hadn’t been any
bloodshed between the tribes for years, they didn’t speak or acknowledge each other.
Currents ran deep between the tribes and it wouldn’t take much to make the old
animosity spill over. Asia battled the fractured thoughts of right and wrong, the guilt
growing. One fact remained. If she told him the truth and returned him to his family,
would she remain safe? She frowned. Was that the reason for the phone calls? Asia shied
from her turbulent thoughts to concentrate on the present.

They crossed the expanse of black sand and paused at the water’s edge. Roman reached
for her hand again, and she squeezed it lightly, offering him a reassuring smile.

“Give me a kiss for luck.”

“As long as you don’t get distracted,” she murmured.

“I could.” Roman directed her hand to his straining erection, his white teeth flashing in a
smirk. “But just a kiss this time.” He sobered. “I want to do this.”

A wave swirled around their ankles as they embraced, their lips clinging together. Asia
let her eyes drift closed and savored his warmth and the feel of his strength when he
pressed against her softer curves. An ache started at the back of her eyes. She gripped his
biceps tighter and hung on, wishing that reality would never intrude. But she had to face
this and help him.

They parted and turned toward the open sea, walking into the cool water until they were
waist deep.

“Picture a whale in your mind. Imagine the sleek black and white body, the large dorsal
fin, the flippers and the fluke.”

“Shift. Don’t wait for me.” He sounded almost angry.

Asia forgave him his testy tone, and merely nodded. She waded a short distance from
Roman and shifted smoothly into orca form. As always, a rush of pleasure swept through
Asia. She dived beneath the water, using her strong fluke to propel her along. After
swimming out to sea for a few minutes, Asia circled back to where she’d left Roman. She
cut through the water, keeping below the surface, swimming silently so she didn’t disturb
his concentration.

Please let him manage to shift, she thought, silently willing him on.

Nothing happened.

Asia waited for a little longer before swimming right up to him and nudging Roman
gently on the arm. When he ignored her, she nudged him again, careful to temper the
move so she didn’t hurt him with her superior strength.

He ran his palm across her back in a long luxurious stroke. The man had magic fingers,
she thought, her mind hazing with the pleasure.

“I can’t change,” he said. “I may as well go back to the house. You stay out here for a
while.”

Asia heard the frustration and irritation underlying his words. There was no way Asia
was leaving him alone to brood. She moved closer to Roman, knocking him off balance.
Another nudge sent him under the water.

He came up spluttering. “Dammit, Asia. Cut that out.”

She maneuvered close to him until he was forced to grab hold of her to maintain his
balance. When she felt his hand grasping her upright dorsal fin, she swam out to sea
before he had a chance to let go.

“What are you doing?” Roman sounded grumpy, but Asia kept swimming, taking care
not to sink too far beneath the surface of the water. Roman needed air to breathe in his
human form, but she wanted him to enjoy the surge of exhilaration when they raced
through the water.

Asia knew exactly when the anger left him. His tight grasp on her dorsal released and the
grip of his knees around her body relaxed. She heard his laugh before it was ripped away
by the wind. Smiling inside, Asia slowed, swimming more leisurely now Roman had
relaxed. Love for this man swelled inside her. She wished she could reassure him that his
ability to shift would return. It wasn’t as if he’d hit his head that hard. The swelling had
almost disappeared and the bump was no longer tender.

“This is beautiful, Asia.” Roman smoothed his hand across her back in a firm and
pleasurable move. She shuddered, her heart beating faster from his proximity rather than
the exertion of the swim. She cut through the inky water, the romantic in her enjoying the

glint of the moonlight on the water. It would be so good to swim with her lover in their
true forms. Loneliness would never haunt her again with this orca by her side.

A series of deep clicks reverberated through the water, striking fear in Asia’s heart. She
slowed to a stop and listened carefully. There! A pod of whales singing to each other.
Strangers. Asia turned and headed back toward the shore, increasing the speed. Had
Roman heard? Had he understood? Anxiety circled through her mind. Was it Roman’s
family? Asia feared her worst nightmare was about to come true. She’d die at the hand of
the Resident Orcas. And once Roman heard the truth, would he stand back and watch?

Asia sped toward the shore using the lights they’d left burning as a guide. Fear of
discovery stopped her from vocalizing for direction guidance. She kept swimming until
she felt the brush of sand beneath her belly and shifted with Roman still riding her back.
They landed at the water’s edge in a tangle of limbs. Reacting with pure adrenaline, Asia
grabbed for Roman and tugged his face down for a kiss. Lips slammed together, tongues
dueled, noses bumped. It wasn’t a pretty kiss, but she forced everything she felt for
Roman into it. Breathing heavily, they pulled apart.

A lazy grinned tugged at his lips. “What was that for?”

“I love you.” Asia cupped his face and stared into his eyes. “No matter what, remember
that.”

Roman frowned. “Hey. I’m not going to leave you.”

Asia gulped. The truth. She was going to tell him right now. She couldn’t live with the
guilt a minute longer. “I haven’t told you the whole truth.”

Roman’s frown intensified, and Asia rushed into speech before she chickened out. “We
come from different tribes. Our families are bitter enemies.” Her heart pounded anxiously
as she waited with his reaction. They were both still naked and laying with their limbs
entangled. Her breasts brushed his chest with each uneasy breath.

“Enemies.” Roman studied her intently, watching, measuring her every reaction.

This was it, Asia thought. Regret for what might have been filled her and tears backed up
behind her eyes. She blinked rapidly. “Yeah.” It was all she could manage in the way of a
reply.

“I guess that’s why the family hasn’t come around to see us. Are we disowned?”

“Not exactly,” Asia muttered, averting her gaze. She couldn’t handle looking at him for
much longer. The weight bearing down on her chest felt as if it might suffocate her. How
did she explain? No matter what she said she was going to lose him.

“Explain,” he said tersely.

“We’re not married,” she whispered.

Chapter Five

Not married? Nothing she could have said would have shocked him more. Roman started
to speak before snapping his mouth shut. Anger built, pressing against his chest, words
cramming up his throat until he thought he would explode. Why the hell had she lied?
“Why?” he gritted out finally.

“I don’t know. It’s all so complicated.”

“We have all day. Try to explain.”

Asia pushed him away and sat up. She glanced at him uneasily as if she was suddenly
uncomfortable with her nudity. Too damn bad. She wasn’t leaving until she explained her
mind games.

She wrapped her arms around her chest and stared at him warily. As he watched, she
swallowed. Roman hardened his heart to her misery. She’d lied to him. She was the
culprit here and he wasn’t about to let her off without an explanation.

“Well?” Roman attempted to rein in his temper. He didn’t want her to sulk like his
brother--

His brother! He’d remembered one of his family. Excitement kept him quiet. He
concentrated, trying to grasp the foggy memories that danced through his mind. The
misty images dissolved the instant he tried to seize them.

“I ... I’ve seen you in the papers, in the social pages and at functions,” Asia said in a low
voice. “I’ve always admired you but because of the feud between our families and tribes
there was no way we could meet in the social sense.” Asia darted a glance at him before
looking away. Roman kept his face passive and waited for her to continue. She’d lied to
him. He couldn’t get past that. Roman didn’t think he liked lies.

“You came into the nightclub where I work as a singer. You asked me out for a date, and
I said yes.”

“Didn’t I recognize you?”

She shook her head, her shoulders drooping in abject misery. Roman had the absurd need
to draw her into his arms and hold her, to soothe away her uneasiness with a kiss. Or two.

“No. It’s not surprising really. I’ve spent a lot of time overseas, and I keep a fairly low
profile.”

“Go on.”

“When I went to meet you, you were being attacked by three men. They ran off when I
called for help. Somehow you hit your head. When you regained consciousness, you
thought I was your wife. I tried to tell you but ... but you had other things on your mind.”

Like sex. Roman grimaced. What red-blooded male wouldn’t think of sex when
confronted by Asia’s voluptuous curves? He replayed the last few days, trying to
remember Asia’s reactions to his questions. She had tried to talk to him a few times, and
he’d forced sex on her instead. Not that she’d objected at the time.

“There’s something else. The strange phone calls I’ve been getting ... I think that
someone knows you’re here with me. And today when we were swimming, I heard a pod
of whales singing and calling to each other. They weren’t from my tribe.”

“From my tribe?” Roman asked in a burst of excitement.

“I don’t know. That’s why I came back to shore. If members of your tribe or mine find us
together, it will cause problems.”

Roman stared at her in disbelief, his brows rising. “Yet you went ahead with our sham
marriage?”

“I thought it was for just one date. Enough to slake the lust. I didn’t expect to fall in love
with you.”

Back to the L word again. “I’m going for a swim. We’ll discuss this later.”

Roman waded into the water, pictured a large orca in his mind and switched smoothly.
Elation tore through him, and he slowed for an instant before using his fluke and flippers
to swim rapidly through the water. It had come back to him. Just as Asia had assured him
it would. His memory was hazy, but familiar ghosts stalked his mind with increasing
regularity. He was sure it was only a matter of time before his memory returned. And as
for Asia.... Roman blew strongly, a fine mist shooting through his blowhole, before he
dived beneath the surface, letting the cool water close over his dorsal fin.

Asia watched him swim away with a mixture of pride and apprehension. Now he knew
the truth, it was only a matter of time before he left. She stood and ambled miserably
across the sands.

The night had faded and early dawn lay in waiting. Fatigue made her stumble, and she
wiped an angry tear off her cheek. No use crying about what might have been. Roman
knew the truth. Their sham marriage was over.

The phone rang as she opened the front door. At this time of the morning it had to be
another of those crank calls. She jerked the phone off the hook. “Yes! I have no idea what
secret you’re talking about so you needn’t bother me again!”

“Asia? Is anything wrong?” Her mother’s well-modulated voice drifted down the line.

Bother. Asia grimaced and rolled her eyes. “Mother. What are you doing ringing me so
early in the morning?”

“Just to tell you we’ve come home early.”

“Wasn’t the fishing any good in South America?” Shit. Shit. Shit. This was not good.

“We didn’t make it to South America. Archie ate an octopus. We told him he shouldn’t
eat the little orange ones but would he listen? No.” A rich chuckle echoed down the line.
“Now he’s learned the hard way. He won’t touch the little blighters again. What are you
doing tomorrow? We thought we might come for a visit.”

Oh, shit. It was worse than she’d imagined. “Ah ... sorry, Ma. I’m rehearsing for a new
show. How about next week? I should be sorted out by then.” Probably an exaggeration.
Roman would likely leave the moment he returned from his swim.

“Oh,” her mother said. “Oh, well. We have some domestic chores to take care of, and
Archie is still throwing up quite a bit. Next week it is, then.”

Asia hung up with relief. Disaster averted.

The phone rang again, and Asia scowled. No doubt her aunt this time wanting her to baby
sit. “Yes?”

“We know your secret,” the disembodied voice said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Asia hung up and stared at the phone as if it
was an orange octopus. It didn’t ring again, and her breath eased out with a relieved sigh.

She strode through to the bathroom and flipped on the shower, regulating the temperature
to tepid. Asia stepped under the water and wondered what else could go wrong today.

Asia lathered up with peppermint and green apple soap, then rinsed the salt off her hair
and reached blindly for a bottle of shampoo. The shower door squeaked and her eyes flew
open.

“Roman?”

“I’ve been thinking about us,” he murmured in a husky voice.

Asia’s heart thudded with apprehension as he joined her in the shower cubicle, closing
the door behind him.

“I don’t condone lying.”

“I don’t make a habit of it,” Asia said. “It just happened and took on a life of its own.”

“Okay.” He brushed a kiss over her lips, igniting a flash fire in her body. “Don’t lie to me
again.”

“I won’t,” Asia promised fervently. Was he giving her a second chance? Asia was
frightened to ask.

“I have feelings for you, Asia. I want to see where they lead, despite the problems we
might face.”

Asia nodded dumbly.

“So we’re agreed? We’ll get to know each other a little better with no lies between us.”

Asia nodded. “I’d like that. Very much.”

Roman cupped her head with his hands and massaged the shampoo until her hair was
clean. He helped her rinse it before picking up her soap to lather it rapidly over his body.

“You all done in here?” His gaze drifted downward and lingered on her mouth.

“I want you,” Asia murmured.

“You read my mind.” Roman shut off the water and shouldered open the shower door. He
scooped her off her feet with a suddenness that made her squeak.

“The bedclothes will get wet.”

“They’ll dry,” Roman countered. He dropped her in the middle of the mattress and
followed her down. Asia didn’t even bounce before he was over her, kissing her with a
fierceness that made her heart pound. Asia caught his urgency and dug her nails into his
back. Her legs parted and moisture seeped from her feminine core. Roman wanted to
make love to her again.

“Have you remembered any of your past?” she murmured, angling her neck so he had
better access.

“My memories are there, just out of reach. At least I was able to shift. That’s a start.”

“Yeah, that’s great.” Asia pressed a kiss to the base of his throat. “My mother rang.” Best
she tell him the worst now so he couldn’t accuse her of keeping secrets. “She wanted to
visit, but I put her off.”

“Good. We need time together before we deal with our families.”

“I had another strange phone call. I think someone knows who you are.”

“We’ll deal with them, too,” he promised. “But not right now. I can think of much better
things to do.” Roman delved into her mouth, kissing her deeply, feasting and plundering
until pleasure hummed through Asia. Her arms crept up around his neck, and she
clutched him tightly. Roman parted her legs and entered her in one long seamless thrust.
His teeth scraped over the frantically beating pulse below her jaw. He felt so long, so
thick and hard as he filled her.

“Feels good,” she muttered in a husky voice.

“Yeah. Very good.” He pulled from her and surged deep again. “I could become addicted
to this. To you.”

Asia hoped so. She really did. He changed the angle of his strokes, increasing the pace
until they were both breathless. He slid a finger across her clit, massaging her lightly. A
gasp escaped, and hot pleasure spilled over, dragging him under too. She felt the
contractions of her womb and the spurt of his seed deep inside. Asia really loved this
man, and if she had to give him up, it would kill her.

* * * *

They woke an hour later to the shrill ring of the phone. Asia started, her heart leaping like
a startled school of fish. Roman stayed her with a hand to the shoulder.

“Stay there. I’ll get it this time.” Before she could answer he swaggered from the
bedroom toward the kitchen. He snatched it up. “Yes.”

Heavy breathing sounded.

“Yes,” he repeated with a touch of impatience. He’d far rather spend his time with Asia,
repeating the incredible lovemaking. The phone clicked, and he was left holding a dead
line. He replaced the phone with a thump. Possibly a wrong number....

“Who was it? Not someone from my family?” Asia stood in the doorway dressed in an
oversized T-shirt.

“They hung up. Must have been a wrong number.”

“Oh. Good.” Her shoulders relaxed noticeably.

“Don’t worry, babe. What do you want to do for the rest of the day? Have another
snooze? Or go swimming again?”

Her face softened, a look of longing making her seem vulnerable. “I’d love to go
swimming with you. We could cruise up to Cape Reinga where the Pacific Ocean meets

the Tasman Sea. It’s beautiful up there. The color of the ocean....” She trailed off when
she saw him watching her so closely. “What?”

“You’re beautiful.” He stepped close and brushed his thumb across her swollen lips. He’d
done that, and the faint love bites on her slender neck. Marks of his possession. He took
satisfaction from seeing them, which probably made him a Neanderthal, but it was the
way he felt. This woman filled spaces he hadn’t even realized were empty.

They crossed the black sand, still warm from the midday sun, and headed for the sea.
Waves whooshed to shore, the wind coming in from the sea making them much bigger
than they were earlier. Roman reached for her hand and his firm grasp brought tears of
happiness to her eyes. She skipped a few steps at his side, splashing through the foamy
waves as they rushed into shore. They waded out into the water until they were waist
deep. Roman tugged her against his chest so their limbs tangled and their lower bodies
rubbed together.

“I was sure you’d leave once you learned the truth,” Asia murmured as she relaxed
against him. She frowned, enjoying the closeness between them but worried that it
wouldn’t last. Their relationship was so fragile. What if...?

“Stop.” Roman traced a finger over her wrinkled brow. “Let’s take that swim to Cape
Reinga. Last one there is a rotten egg.” With that said, he swiftly turned and powered
away leaving Asia staring after him.

The man was so sexy, so tempting in either form. He paused past the point where the
waves started to break and spy-hopped to see where she was. Asia waved and with a grin
still on her face, shifted smoothly. Diving through the oncoming wave, she chased after
him, the surge of adrenaline taking her by surprise. Adrenaline layered with sheer
excitement and acute anticipation whooshed through Asia. Swimming with a lover.
Wow!

Asia swam strongly, sounding with a series of clicks and whistles to get a fix on Roman’s
position.

She had no warning. One moment he wasn’t anywhere near her, then he swam beneath
her, nudging her to the surface. They sprang from the water together, creating a graceful
ballet of leaps and huge splashes when they dived back under the water.

Roman did a series of twirls before returning to her with a definite smirk. Show off, she
thought, grinning with joy in the knowledge he was recovering. She sobered quickly.
Now if only he would recover his memory.

Roman seemed determined to enjoy the moment and not let her fret. They frolicked like
calves, chasing schools of flashing silvery fish, startling and confusing them by blowing
bursts of bubbles. The fish crammed together in a tight mass. They were dinner for the
taking but by common consent they left the fish and swam further north.

Asia listened closely to the static and the garbled speech and music beneath the sea. No
way did she want to run into one of Roman’s family members on this little jaunt. But
despite her fears, she heard nothing more exciting than a pod of humpback whales
heading for Australia and a marital spat between two hammerhead sharks. They took a
detour around them. Nothing more unpredictable and plain mean than a pissed shark.

At the tip of the North Island, the ocean met the sea. It was an eerie place yet hauntingly
beautiful, the place where the Maori people believe the spirits of the dead depart for the
homeland in Waikiki.

Roman nudged Asia gently, rubbing his snout over the tender skin near her flippers. His
touch told her he felt the same magic about the place where the waters met. It was
special.

They swam back to Asia’s house at a more leisurely pace. Lethargy made Asia’s stroking
through the water slow and easy. They shifted together in a huge splash of water their
laughter ringing out. Their lips touched in the lazy way of lovers who were familiar with
each other.

The killer whale came out of nowhere. Two more came from opposing directions, large
black forms with slashes of white attacked, tearing Roman and Asia apart.

Asia screamed, stumbling and going under the water when a wave rushed to shore. She
flailed in the water, panic making her forget to breathe. Asia came up gasping for air.
Roman had shifted, knowing it was the only way to protect them. Four massive bodies
fought, thrashing and sending sheets of water in all directions. Sharp white teeth tore at
unprotected flanks while flukes struck lethal blows.

“Mum! Luca!” Asia shouted, recognizing the nicks and scars on her mother and curly
slant of her brother’s dorsal fin. Her sister ignored her cries too, slamming into Roman
with enough force to send him flying through the air.

Asia knew she had to do something before Roman was hurt. She threw herself into the
melee screaming at the top of her voice. “Stop it! Leave him alone!”

A fluke caught her in the gut, bleeding the air from her lungs in one thump. Asia gasped,
a wheezy sound, as she struggled to replace the air. Blood dripped from her head,
obscuring her vision. She wiped the blood away and saw the fins heading for them.

“Shark. Shark!” she cried. Another fluke caught her across the side of the head, and that
was the last thing she recalled before she surrendered to the darkness.

Chapter Six

Roman saw the blow that sent Asia face first in the water. An incoming wave swept her
toward the shore. She didn’t move. She didn’t come up to breathe. With superhuman
strength, he thrust the attacking whales away and shifted to human form.

The sharks attacked from both sides, thankfully keeping Asia’s family busy while Roman
attended to Asia. He dragged her into shore and up the sand until they were clear of the
water.

“Asia, babe.” God, she had to be all right. Roman smoothed her hair away from her pale
face and tipped back her head. After making sure her airways were clear, he started
mouth to mouth. Fear stabbed at his heart. Breathe, dammit. Breathe! Roman kept going,
trying not to think about Asia dying. God knows his family would have done the same
thing if they’d caught him kissing Asia. This bloody feud had to stop. It was time for the
old ways to change. Past time.

Roman paused mid-way through the next thought. Hell! He’d remembered. He recalled
everything. Their tribes were in a long-running feud. And that wasn’t all. Being with him
put her in even greater danger than she’d probably realized.

Asia coughed weakly, her eyelids flickering. Roman held her as she vomited out the
seawater she’d swallowed. Thankfully, the bleeding at her temple had slowed. He probed
the wound with delicate fingers and decided it didn’t need stitches.

Splashing from behind made him glance over his shoulder. Asia’s mother, brother and
sister. He watched them shift, his shoulders tensing when they headed toward them with
varying expressions on their faces. Roman averted his gaze from their naked bodies.
Seeing Asia’s mother naked made him uncomfortable.

Asia struggled from his hold. At first Roman thought she didn’t want her family to see
her with him, but he realized she wanted to place herself between him and her family in
case there were problems.

“Get your dirty hands off my sister,” a young male said.

“Luca.” Asia tensed as if she expected her brother to attack again. Her voice was scarcely
louder than a whisper.

“If I was Asia, I’d want his hands all over me,” the sister said.

Roman froze. He didn’t like the avid sensuality in her light gray eyes--unusual in an
Orca. They seemed to pierce straight through him bringing discomfort and edginess.
Damn, he wished he had some clothes.

“Rosa,” the last of the trio said, her voice carrying authority. After dampening her
daughter’s enthusiasm, her attention turned to him and Asia. She frowned when her gaze
slid over him. Roman stared back, waiting for her to fire the first salvo. But he was

determined. No matter what she thought or whatever objections she had he was not
leaving Asia, not unless that was what Asia wanted.

He needed to head back to Auckland Island to sort out the mess he’d left there. Asia
could go with him or she could stay here until he finished, but he had every intention of
keeping her indefinitely. They were good together. She made him happy, and he sure as
hell hadn’t felt that emotion for a long time.

“I hope the two of you have thought this out,” she said, surprising Roman with her first
words. “Your tribe won’t be any happier when they find out about the two of you. Do
you want to start a war?”

Roman stood and helped Asia to her feet. “We’re going to the house to dress and clean up
Asia’s forehead.”

“Fine. We’ll be back in an hour to discuss this debacle,” Asia’s mother said crisply. She
turned and strode back into the sea without looking back or checking to see that Asia’s
siblings followed.

“You’ll be sorry you touched my sister,” Luca snarled before he stalked after his mother.

“I’m not surprised my sister succumbed to you, big boy.” A naughty smile shaped her
lips when she glanced down his naked body, then allowed her gaze to drift back up to his
face. “Nice ... chest.”

“And it’s all mine,” Asia snapped. “Go find your own stud.”

Rosa’s dark brows rose. “Well,” she said with a slight smirk. She cast another lingering
look at Roman before turning and sauntering after her brother and mother. The wench
gave an impudent shake of her butt before shifting and diving into the water.

“We’d better attend to that wound,” Roman murmured, amused by her sister despite
himself.

“Rosa is a flirt,” Asia muttered, scowling after her sister. “Pay no attention.”

Roman suppressed a grin, instinctively knowing that this was not the time to laugh. “I’m
not interested in your sister. Her older sister, now that’s another matter.” He pressed his
lips to hers and nibbled at her bottom lip. His body reacted immediately, and he chuckled.
“See.” He gestured at his groin and laughed again. “If we don’t hurry, your family will
arrive.” Roman slid his arm around Asia’s waist and directed her toward the house. “I’d
prefer to meet them with clothes on next time.”

“Your memory. It’s returned! You didn’t seem surprised about ... anything.” Asia halted
without warning and turned to him with clear apprehension written across her pale face.
“You’ve remembered everything?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. Those phone calls you’ve been getting probably relate to a few
problems I’ve been having on the island. The attack, too.”

A frown appeared on her forehead. “You know who attacked you?”

Roman tugged on her hand, urging her to continue walking. He wanted to soothe her
fears and make love to her all night long until dawn. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to
happen with their families trying to come between them. They walked up the front path,
edged with rustling, native grasses, and Roman pushed open the front door to let her
inside. “I have my suspicions. I don’t suppose we can drive back to the city so I can
collect my gear from the hotel. I have a satellite phone there.”

“You can borrow my car if you want. I’m going to bed. I have a headache.”

Roman didn’t like the dejected set of her shoulders when she turned and headed for the
bedroom. He hunted through the bathroom cabinet for first aid supplies. After pulling out
disinfectant, cotton wool and an antiseptic cream along with some headache tablets, he
walked through to the bedroom to check on Asia. She lay across the bed, her dark hair
fanned across the pillow. Her eyes were closed and a tiny whistle emerged from between
slightly parted lips. Roman hesitated, wondering whether it was safe to leave her sleeping
or if he should wake her. She’d certainly seemed lucid enough after she’d come to. While
he hesitated, a sharp rap sounded on the front door. Roman grabbed up a pair of shorts
and pulled them on before going to answer. A damn short hour, he thought with a trace of
irritation.

He wrenched open the door and stood aside for Asia’s family to enter. They arrived en
masse and the open plan kitchen-dining room was full by the time they’d all entered.
Roman bit back a snarl as one of the shifters shoved him out of the way.

“Where’s Asia?” her mother demanded.

“She’s asleep in the bedroom.”

“Kill the bastard,” Asia’s brother snapped. “He’s sleeping with her. I could smell him all
over her.”

Roman shrugged, unconcerned by the younger male’s bluster. “Asia might get a little
upset if you hurt me. She loves me.”

Luca sneered, pushing his face close in a threatening manner. “Bah! Feminine crap.
She’ll get over it.”

“That will be enough from you, Luca,” Asia’s mother said in a hard voice. It was obvious
to Roman that she ruled the family. Her word was final, and they deferred to her in all
things. “Healer, please go and check on my daughter. Take Rosa with you.”

“Aw, Mother. Can’t I stay here?” Here was right beside Roman, standing way too close
for his comfort. Her breasts rubbed against his arm in an annoying manner. The sisters
were alike in appearance but Rosa didn’t stir his lust in the slightest. Asia, on the other
hand, could offer him a tentative smile and turn him inside out.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Anderson? Your tribe is on the verge of civil
war. You should be on Auckland Island putting a stop to all the petty bickering.”

“The workings of my tribe are nothing to do with you,” Roman said icily. He could pull
the leader persona out when he had to. “Neither is my relationship with Asia.”

“Asia is my daughter.”

“A mature adult,” Roman countered, knowing he wasn’t wise to rile the Bolino family
when he was the sole Anderson present. Yet he was good at reading other shifters, and
although he sensed anger, it was controlled. “An adult ready for marriage.”

“Marriage.” The word was repeated a dozen times until it sounded like an echo bouncing
around the interior of the house.

“Asia and I intend to cement our relationship with human legalities.”

“And what does Asia say about that?” Luca said. “We only have your word for it.” He
lurched at Roman and swung his fist in a wild punch. Roman felt the breeze when the
young male’s fist skated past his cheekbone.

“Leave him alone,” Asia cried from the bedroom doorway. She looked pale yet beautiful
in a royal blue colored robe. She wobbled, and Roman caught her arm to steady her.

“It’s all right,” he murmured. “Everything will be fine. Go back to bed and try to sleep.
No one will hurt me.” Roman guided her into the bedroom, slid her robe off and tucked
her between the cool sheets before returning to face her family.

“I want to talk to Asia.” Asia’s mother walked past Roman into the bedroom and closed
the wooden door with a sharp snap. She was back minutes later and made a sharp gesture
with her hand. The family members filed from the house with low muttering. “Don’t
think you’ve won this battle, Anderson,” she snarled. “You might have won this round,
but my daughter will come to her senses.” She stomped to the doorway, then turned to
glare at him, a tall, imposing woman with glossy black hair and a distinctive white lock at
her temple. “You’ll marry Asia over my dead body.”

* * * *

When Asia woke up the next morning, the house was still and quiet. No arguments. That
could be a good thing or it could mean there were dead bodies all over her lounge. Had

Roman left? The thought brought a frown and niggling uncertainty. If he’d left because
of her family, he wasn’t worth the stress. She’d get over it. One day soon.

Asia forced away thoughts of Roman and things she couldn’t control. A gingerly stretch
caused a wince of protest from sore muscles. Either her brother or sister had landed some
good blows. Her ribs ached something fierce. When she slid the strap of her nightgown
down her arm, she noticed the deep purple bruise. She grimaced. No wonder she was
feeling sore. Asia padded down the passage and peeked through the doorway into the
lounge. No blood or bodies. After checking the rest of the house she discovered it was
empty. A folded rug draped across the couch in the lounge told her Roman had spent the
night there. At least she hoped it was Roman and not one of her family members. She
headed to the bathroom and flicked on the water. Hopefully, the warm water would take
some of the stiffness from her body.

Twenty minutes later, she walked into the kitchen and plugged in the jug. The sound of
the front door opening and closing made her whirl around. “Who’s there?” Her heart
jumped like a racehorse leaping from a starting gate. Her hand slid across the kitchen
counter to curl around the handle of a carving knife.

“Asia? What are you doing out of bed so early?” Roman strode into the kitchen, bringing
the tang of the sea and outdoors. His dark gaze traveled lazily up and down her body.
There was a sexual intensity to his gaze but concern as well. “You feeling okay?”

“A bit sore. I’ll live. I thought you’d gone.” Asia quashed her sudden nerves and forced a
smile as she released the carving knife. She pulled two mugs from the cupboard. “Is
Mother right about a possible war?”

“There was unrest when I left, and according to rumors your mother has heard they’ve
become worse. But I need to finish the business discussions that I came for before I
return.” Roman sauntered up to her to brush a kiss across her lips.

Asia shuddered at the intense, searing emotion that shot through her. The phone rang, and
fear ratcheted up the tension. More weird calls?

“I’ll get it.” Roman plucked up the phone. “Yeah? Who is this?” The phone crashed back
down. “Heavy breather.”

Asia inhaled deeply in an effort to settle her jumping nerves. “I wish they’d quit calling.
If they want to freak me out they’re succeeding.”

“Try not to worry, babe. It’s me they’re trying to harass.”

That made sense, except.... “Maybe, but how did they get this number? Oh, never mind. I
want to ask you something else. Did you mean it? About marrying me?” She tried to keep
the neediness, the uncertainty from her voice but failed dismally. Dammit, she needed
reassurance if she was going to rebel against unwritten family law.

Roman cupped her face with his hands. “Oh, I meant it. The feud between our tribes is
ridiculous. If you asked the elders, I’m sure they won’t remember what the feud is about.
Besides, the woman I love is part of the Transients. I didn’t plan for it to happen but it
has.” His stern mouth softened into a smile that made hope bloom inside. Rosa had been
wrong. So had her mother. He wasn’t after a scalp to attach to his dorsal. This was love.

“I still need to go back to the city,” he said.

“Can I come too? I should probably contact my accompanist about the new bracket of
songs we’re planning, anyway.”

Roman flashed a grin before tracing his fingertips over her parted lips. “I was hoping
you’d come with me.”

“For sex?” she asked, teasing him now she felt more secure.

“You betcha.” His good humor dispersed. “We can get a special license and get married
at the same time.” His gaze was intent as he searched her face for a reaction. “What do
you think?”

“Yes. Oh, yes!” Asia threw her arms around his neck and rained kisses on him, ignoring
the protest of sore, aching muscles. Nothing mattered except Roman. “Oh, Roman. I love
you so much.”

* * * *

Roman listened carefully to his younger brother, his gut tightening with each word. “Has
Helena openly taken over or is she just throwing her weight around?”

“She hasn’t taken over yet, but it’s only a matter of time. You need to come home now
before she turns the island into a military state. Gads, you should see the way her cronies
strut about the town with barely concealed weapons.”

“There’s been a problem with brokering the treasure. I’ve had to set up new meetings for
next week.”

“Damn,” his brother muttered. “The end of next week might be too late.”

Roman hesitated, wondering if anyone might be trying to listen in. The hair at the back of
his neck prickled as it had before the attack, yet he hadn’t been able to catch his watchers
out. “I’d hoped to take a holiday before I head back to Auckland Island.”

“A holiday?” his brother yelped. “Time for that later. You’re needed here, I tell you.”

“I’m getting married.” Roman cut through his brother’s bluster and waited for the fallout.

“Married?” His brother sounded shocked. “Oh, man. Helena is going to be pissed.”

Too bad. She’d have to deal with it. Roman was aware Helena still thought of him as her
property. Her maneuvering to stop other women getting near amused him. Most of the
time. The orca wanted power. Oh, she’d coated it up with sweet smiles and sex, and it
had taken him a while to see through her manipulation. Discovering her in bed with
another orca during the summer games had torn away his blinders. Roman refused to
share. After telling her their relationship was over, he’d walked away. It appeared Helena
hadn’t accepted his edict. Roman scowled. The rumors from Asia’s mother and his
brother’s demands that he return home brought conflict. The tribe needed him, but for the
first time in his life, he wanted to do something for himself instead of putting the tribe
first.

“It’s none of Helena’s business.”

Roman heard raised voices on his brother’s end.

“Wait a sec,” his brother said.

Roman was unable to decipher words but the tone was clear--panicked.

“Bro, Helena and two of her brothers have disappeared. They seem to have left the island
but the rest of the gang is here. Roman, I don’t like the sound of this. They’re openly
wearing weapons and telling orcas to stay indoors.”

Roman cursed, low and pithy. “Damn, Gene. I have to make this meeting. They’re calling
me back to confirm a time, but missing the last meeting has made negotiations tense.
They don’t trust me to deliver.”

“Do you think Helena had something to do with the attack? Maybe slowing up
negotiations?” Gene asked.

Roman had wondered the same thing. His gut churned uneasily while he debated his
course of action. “I didn’t see faces but there were three of them. Has Helena left the
island before?”

Gene hesitated. “I was away for the weekend. I’ll ask around.”

“I’ll check back in a few hours once I know what’s going on.”

* * * *

Roman walked to the business meeting since it was to take place at the Imperial Hotel,
only five minutes away. The instant he left the Carlton where he was staying, his senses
told him he was under surveillance. Damned if he could see who was watching. A casual
glance over his shoulder when he crossed the street didn’t catch his watchers out. Roman

paused at the next set of traffic lights, waiting for the signal for pedestrians to cross. The
traffic halted, and Roman started across.

A battered blue Holden failed to stop and continued across the intersection, the wheels
spinning as the driver floored the accelerator. Roman froze for an instant. The driver was
trying to hit him! He threw himself out of the path of the oncoming vehicle, hitting the
ground with a painful thump before rolling to safety. The car continued past.

“Man, he tried to hit you!” A young male dumped the backpack he’d had draped off one
shoulder on the ground and helped Roman up.

“Are you all right, young man? Should I call the police?” an elderly woman asked.

Roman thought for a moment she intended to check for broken bones. He dusted off his
suit. It had all happened so fast he hadn’t seen the driver, but one thing was clear. That
was no accident. The driver had wanted to run him down.

“Thanks. I’m fine.” Roman limped off down the street continuing on to his appointment.

The meeting went well, better than he’d expected. Gerald Jones was willing to buy the
items they’d found in the sunken ship or family heirlooms as he’d told Gerald Jones and
his team. The orcas didn’t want anyone poking around near their island searching for
sunken treasure. Roman cursed the day they’d found the ship. Greed had ripped the tribe
apart with Helena and her followers wanting to keep the treasure for a select few. Roman
and the council had decided to use the proceeds to make improvements on the island. The
debate continued, but it seemed the fighting had turned mean and dirty.

Roman took the elevator to his hotel room. The door was propped open when he arrived
outside his room. He walked inside expecting to find the maids cleaning. Instead all his
belongings were strewn around the room. Clothes, paperwork and toiletries littered the
floor.

“Asia? Asia! Are you here?” Hell, if they’d hurt Asia he’d never forgive himself. He
grabbed up the phone and rang Asia’s cell phone number.

His panic eased when she answered. Low music, a piano and the wail of a saxophone,
were audible down the line.

“Hey, Asia. It’s me. You almost finished there? Ready to get hitched?”

“I’ll meet you at the courthouse in half an hour.” The excitement in her voice brought a
smile, albeit brief. He hoped he wasn’t putting Asia in danger by marrying her. They
could always postpone the ceremony.... No, dammit! He wanted Asia by his side, he
wanted to sleep with her and wake up with her in the morning.

“Half an hour,” he confirmed. “Don’t be late.”

“It’s fashionable for the bride to arrive late,” she teased.

“After the morning I’ve had, I don’t think my heart could take it. In fact, if you’re late I
think I’ll put you over my knee.”

“Ooh! Be still my heart,” she cooed. “Is something wrong?”

Roman laughed, seeking to reassure her. He didn’t want her to change her mind either.
“Nothing I can’t handle.”

* * * *

Asia checked her watch. The bride was meant to arrive late, not the groom.

“Yes, well. I’m sorry, dear. I have ceremonies scheduled for the rest of the afternoon.
You’ll have to reschedule.”

Asia gritted her teeth and tried to hold the tears at bay. He’d changed his mind about
marrying the enemy. Her family had tried to tell her....

Stop it!

Wait to hear his explanations before you jump to conclusions.

“Thank you. We’ll reschedule.” She forced a smile on seeing the sympathetic expression
on the elderly gentleman’s face. He thought Roman had changed his mind. He felt sorry
for her.

She had to get out of here before she did something stupid like cry.

Asia hurried from the courthouse into the sunshine outside. She made it halfway across
the square outside before the first tear ran down her cheek.

She waited at home by the phone for the rest of the afternoon, her mood swinging from
tearful to furious and back again. Roman didn’t come. He didn’t call....

Chapter Seven

“For the last time, Helena and her brothers have taken over the island! Don’t you care?”

Roman stared at his brother before averting his gaze and looking at the landscape below.
They flew over an open expanse of ocean, heading due south to Auckland Island. Asia
was going to think the worst, and he had no way to contact her.

“Of course I care,” he snapped. Maybe if he took care of this mess, he could fix things
with Asia. If she’d talk to him.

The helicopter landed on the far side of the island away from the village and prying eyes.
They waited for the pilot to secure the helicopter and join them for the drive into town.

“Tom, let us out on the outskirts of town,” his brother instructed.

“You’re being paranoid, practically kidnapping me and sneaking me back on to the
island.” Frustration simmered through Roman. Asia would hate him. Hell, he was
probably on her family’s hit list now for leaving and breaking her heart.

“Well I don’t understand what was so important that you couldn’t come back,” his
brother muttered.

“I was getting married, dammit!”

Both his brother and the pilot turned to gape at Roman. The vehicle veered toward the
edge of the cliff.

“Watch the road,” Roman barked.

“I thought you meant in a few months not this week,” his brother said. “You’ve only been
away three weeks. Who is it? Not a human? That will really go down well.”

The driver glanced across at them again before concentrating on the winding road that cut
along the edge of a cliff. Curiosity flitted across his face. Roman could practically see his
ears flapping.

The truth had to come out eventually. “Asia Bolino.” Roman waited for the fallout.

“Asia ... I don’t believe the name is....” His brother’s jaw dropped, his eyes bulged.
“Bolino? Fuck! Roman, have you lost your mind?”

The vehicle went precariously close to running off the road.

“Perhaps you should pull over,” Roman muttered. “Then you can both have at me.”

“Bolino as in a member of the Transients?”

Roman gave a curt nod.

“The enemy,” the driver muttered. “That’s all we need to add to this little war we’ve got
going on down here.”

* * * *

Roman had thought his brother had exaggerated. It was worse. Helena’s brothers
patrolled the town armed with weapons. It seemed they’d put a curfew in force and the

main part of the town appeared quiet and empty. The lamps that lit the square near the
council building weren’t burning, either shot out or switched off. The atmosphere was
one of fear and distrust, and the few orca he saw darted out of sight when the vehicle
approached.

His brother laid a hand on his shoulder, offering silent support. “Helena has taken over
the council chambers. It would be best if you went to your cottage. I will pass the word to
those loyal to you.”

Roman took exception to being ordered around. “I’d rather confront Helena now.”

“They have offered a bounty for your capture,” the driver said gruffly. “Wait until the
morning. See how many orca are still loyal to you.”

Roman gave a curt nod, seeing the wisdom of their suggestion. When he arrived at his
cottage it felt as though he’d been away for years. He prowled around the interior
worrying about Asia. For the first time in his memory, the fate of his people was
secondary to his personal life. Somehow he had to get back to Asia, to reassure her of his
love. The night passed slowly while he debated alternatives and the quickest way to get
back to Asia.

The next morning, Roman spent an hour listening to complaints about Helena and her
brothers, his anger steadily building with each new revelation. Helena and her brothers
had done their job well, sowing the seeds of mistrust and shifting loyalty from him to
them. But there were still a few orcas on the island who thought as he did. If they were to
survive and prosper, they needed to put money back into the island’s infrastructure.

The treasure wasn’t going anywhere while Helena held the village at gunpoint. They
needed to keep to the terms of the contract he’d arranged while on the mainland. The
village needed the money for improvements. How did he start to repair the cracks that
had appeared in his tribe? No doubt becoming involved with Asia would make things
worse. He dragged his hand through his hair and leaned back in the wooden chair. It
creaked in protest. Tendrils of pain curled through his temples in the start of a headache.
Fresh air, he decided. The legs of the chair thumped onto the tiled floor, and he stood
abruptly.

Five minutes later he strode from his cottage, openly defying Helena and her brothers. If
they wanted a confrontation they could have one. Thoughts of the female orca brought a
scowl. She was a loose cannon. A kook.

Roman stomped down the cobbled stone road and turned left toward the beach. He
kicked off his leather sandals and left them where they landed. The sand was cool
beneath his feet. A strong wind blew, ruffling his hair and sending the waves crashing
into shore. A snort escaped. Fitted his mood. He checked his watch and thought about
Asia. Picturing her in his mind soothed the rough edges of his irritation. Asia was the one
good thing to come from this whole mess. He hoped she would forgive him for leaving

without a word. Roman ceased his stomping and slowed to an amble. A seal barked,
setting off the nesting seabirds on the nearby cliff.

Roman caught a flash of color in his peripheral vision. A gun fired. The seals barked
again in agitation, shooting off the rocks into the safety of the water while the seabirds
took off in a mass of squawks and white feathers. Another shot sounded. Closer. Then a
third grazed his cheek. Roman leapt for cover behind a rock formation, his pulse racing.
Hell. Where were they? He couldn’t see them. His hand went up to his face and came
away with a trace of blood. Cautiously, he explored the wound. Not too bad, but it stung
like the devil. He dabbed at it with his shirt before peering around the rock. He still
couldn’t see anything, but the seabirds had settled again, which indicated the intruders
had backed off. Roman waited a little longer and ventured from cover, ready to leap back
behind the rock at the first sign of danger. Nothing happened. But he didn’t intend to
make himself an easy target. He darted from rock to rock, heading for the copse of
gnarled trees not far from the beach. Once there, he ran rapidly from rock to dried grass-
like toitoi bush until he reached the village. It seemed that Helena had relaxed her rule.
Several orcas went about their daily business in the main thoroughfare, and Roman
decided it was fairly safe to move openly with everything looking so normal.

“Ah, Roman.” The feminine voice was low and gloating. “You’ve decided to show your
face.”

Roman turned slowly to face Helena. The orca was stunning, very beautiful. She knew it
too. Confident. Arrogant. Greedy. If she had her way, the treasure would go into her
pockets. The orca had an insatiable thirst for material possessions.

“Helena. I thought you’d left the island.”

“Had an accident?” she cooed.

Roman shrugged. “Nothing life threatening.”

Helena’s two brothers moved up to flank her. They presented a united front.

“Tell us the location of the treasure.”

Roman shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s possible you might change your mind,” Helena cooed again.

Roman didn’t like the orca’s reaction. Too controlled. Not a hint of her normal fiery
temper. “I don’t think so.”

“Not even if you learned that we have your girlfriend?” one of Helena’s brothers said.

Asia? But how did they know?

His brother stepped up beside Helena and her brothers. His own brother . “You should
never have become involved with a Transient, Roman. Traitor .”

* * * *

Roman stared through the bars that covered the grubby window, his fear for Asia making
his stomach roil. He didn’t care what they did to him, but he couldn’t bear the thought of
Asia being dragged into the middle of his fight with Helena. They were lying. They had
to be. Asia’s family wouldn’t allow them to harm her. He paced over to the door, and
even though he knew it was locked, he tried to open it again. Sparse light entered through
the small window, enough that he could see from one side of the room to the other and
know the room was secure. A generator hummed in the distance. Roman stalked the
perimeter of the room, searching for a way to escape imprisonment. Finally, he dropped
to the concrete floor and sat with his back pressed against the damp wall, trying to subdue
his fear. Like an insidious beast, it writhed inside him until he tasted it. Smelled it. He
had to face it--he was stuck here to kick his heels and await Helena’s decree on his fate.
And there was nothing he could do to help Asia.

Roman bounded to his feet. Dammit, he refused to give up. There had to be something he
could do. Think! He glanced up and froze, his eyes widening. A manhole. A slow smile
curled across his lips as he debated the best way to approach his escape attempt.

The grate of a key in the lock pulled him from his contemplation. Roman sauntered closer
to the door, every inch of him alert. Perhaps an easier way? He tensed ready to grab any
opportunity that presented itself.

The door creaked when it opened. A male with a thickset body slid through the gap and
glanced over his shoulder before partially closing the door. Roman recognized the
helicopter pilot.

The orca handed Roman a plate of food. Raw fish. Despite hunger pangs, Roman ignored
the food. “What’s happening?”

“They’ve summoned everyone in the village to a meeting. Hurry, we don’t have much
time. We have to get you out. You’re the only one who can stop this madness. They’re
expecting me back as soon as I deliver the food.”

“They’ll know you let me out.”

The orca paused for an instant. “That can’t be helped. There’s no other alternative. We
have to get you off the island.”

Roman sorted through the scenarios available to him. He could swim, but that would take
at least two days and he couldn’t take much in the way of luggage. Damn, he needed to
deliver the treasure and that would take some of the heat out of Helena’s argument.
Without the treasure there was less leverage. Obviously Helena hadn’t discovered that

he’d shifted the treasure to a new location. Two others knew, and Roman hoped that they
were safe and still held the same views he did--they needed that treasure for the good of
the colony. “I don’t suppose you would fly me to the mainland?”

The pilot’s dark eyes twinkled with sudden excitement. “An adventure,” he murmured.
“Hell, yeah. I’m in!”

“If Helena learns of your part in this she’ll make your life difficult,” Roman warned.

The orca snorted with contempt. “She’s a greedy bitch getting off on power. She’ll ruin
the paradise we have here if we let her.”

“Good. Here’s what we’ll do to buy some time. See that manhole up there? Hoist me up,
and I’ll escape through there. Then leave and lock the room. Go back to the meeting and
pretend everything is all right. I’ll meet you over on the other side of the island by the
helicopter.”

The orca wasted no time in carrying out Roman’s suggestion. Roman pushed the manhole
cover out of position and squeezed through. He signaled to the orca before sliding the
cover back, but leaving it a fraction off center. Hopefully that would leave the pilot free
of suspicion. It would be a difficult feat to get up to the manhole on his own, but not
impossible for someone of his body strength. Making his way quietly through the crawl
space between the roof and the ceiling, he slid the next manhole he came across aside.

A body moved in the far corner of the room. “Who’s there?” a deep voice rumbled.

Elation poured through Roman. He recognized the voice. Victor, one of his friends.
“Roman. Care to break this joint?”

Within seconds, Victor knelt beside him. “Good to see you, mate.”

“Anyone else in here we should liberate?”

“Yeah, Weed and Smith are here somewhere. Helena and her kooky brothers locked us
up last week when we started to ask too many questions.”

“Ah,” Roman murmured, giving his mate a wicked grin. “Just the orcas I need to kick
some ass.”

* * * *

“I told you the orca was a low down pile of useless shit,” Luca snarled. “Good riddance, I
say.”

Asia bit back of a retort, knowing that was what Luca wanted. More of the same. As if
she didn’t feel low enough already. Roman had walked away without a word. Intelligence

from the rest of the tribe had informed her of Roman’s return to Auckland Island. Asia
believed them despite the hurt engendered by his abandonment. They had no reason to
lie.

“Aren’t you going to say anything,” Luca prodded.

“Piss off. Leave me alone.” Asia turned her back on her brother and walked into the
apartment bedroom. Grabbing up a bag, she tossed underwear inside before yanking open
the wardrobe.

“What are you doing?” Luca demanded.

“Packing.”

“You’re not going to him?”

Asia fumbled the bottle of shampoo and conditioner she’d retrieved from the bathroom.
Heaven help her, but she wanted to go to Roman, even if it was just to punch him in the
nose for hurting her so badly. “I’m going to the beach for the weekend. I’m tired after
rehearsals this week.”

“I’m going with you.”

Not if she had anything to do with it. Asia threw a toilet bag inside her larger bag and
zipped it closed. “I’ll drop you off at home before I leave,” she said firmly. Asia picked
up her bag and left the apartment with Luca dogging her heels. Maybe she should have
company at the house. Luca’s presence would stop her brooding. “I’ve changed my mind.
You can come with me, but don’t mention Roman or we’ll have an argument, and I’ll
toss you out.”

Luca gave a curt nod. “I’ll drive.”

“Fine.”

As Asia suspected, the house was full of memories. She took one look at the double bed
where they’d made love and decided to sleep in the spare room. “You sleep in here,” she
muttered, averting her gaze and closing her mind to the memories of Roman’s mouth on
hers and how it felt to join intimately. Asia swallowed the lump in her throat. A glass of
wine. Too bad if it made her giggly. She could do with a good laugh. Luca had forced his
company on her. He could deal with the consequences.

Chapter Eight

“I’m going for a swim,” Asia said. A man with a little hammer pounded away inside her
head making her regret the amount of wine she’d consumed the night before.

“I don’t think you should swim alone.”

“Don’t push.” Asia jumped to her feet and immediately held her head with both hands.
The bloody little man with his hammer had gone berserk. He had drummer aspirations.

“How long will you be?”

“As long as it takes,” Asia snapped. She left the house without looking back, stomping
over black sand that was already warm beneath her bare feet. She winced at the bright
sunlight. She was never gonna drink again.

At the high tide mark, she shed her clothes and left them where they fell. She ambled
toward the water so she didn’t disturb the man with the hammer. The waves rushed to
shore and receded. Asia breathed deeply in an effort to settle her churning tummy. The
salty tang of the sea didn’t help her ailment much. Asia waded through the water until she
was waist deep. She shifted and dived through the next wave that rushed to shore. The
aches and pains faded as Asia swam lazily out to open water.

* * * *

Roman drove like a madman to Asia’s house on the beach. He’d hoped they’d find Asia
at the apartment or the club. No such luck. The closer they got to Asia’s house, the deeper
Roman’s concern. Instinct told him Asia was in extreme danger while frustration
simmered through him because of the problems they’d had getting here. Three wasted
days while they found a way to leave the island. Helena was probably already here, trying
to block the sale of the treasure.

Victor leaned over from the back seat. “Careful, mate. We want to arrive in one piece.”

Roman slowed momentarily before forcing the accelerator closer to the floor. It wasn’t
Victor’s fiancée in danger. The sedan’s wheels shrieked when he drove through an S-
bend. The speedometer flickered upward as Roman pushed the car to its limits. He pulled
up outside Asia’s house with a screech of brakes. The driver’s door flew open, and
Roman sprinted from the car, leaving the engine running. He wrenched open the front
door to Asia’s house and raced inside.

“Asia!” Roman hurried from room to room. He checked the bedroom hoping Asia would
be there. Someone stirred in the bed. Hope surged, then died. It wasn’t Asia. “Luca,
where’s Asia?”

Luca leapt from the bed and grabbed him by the throat so quickly that Roman didn’t have
time to protect himself. He slammed up against the wall, with Luca gripping him around
the throat. “Bastard. Leave my sister alone.”

“Need some help there, Roman? The others are still in the car. You want me to get
them?”

Luca tensed on hearing Victor’s voice.

“We’re not here to cause trouble,” Roman said. “Where’s Asia?”

Luca scowled. “Out swimming.”

“Alone? Shit! Listen, she’s in danger. Helena is after her. She knows I love Asia.”

“Chicken shit, you left her standing at the courthouse. You walked out on her without a
word. That’s not love.”

“I love her,” Roman gritted out. Hell they didn’t have time for this crap. Asia was out
swimming alone. “Call your family, all the members of your tribe. Please, she’s in
danger. We need to work together. Both tribes.”

“Well there’s a concept,” a feminine voice drawled from the doorway.

Roman, Victor and Luca turned to face the matriarch of the Bolino tribe, Asia’s mother.
Roman explained the situation and his fears.

Asia’s mother listened and made her decision immediately. “Luca, call the tribe. Now.”
Her son glared at Roman and Victor before he stomped from the bedroom. Asia’s mother
ignored her son’s ill temper. “I assume that the members of your tribe will agree to a
cessation of hostilities while we search for Asia.”

“You have my word,” Roman said. Hurry up . Asia was in danger. He needed to find her,
to hold her, to insure she was safe from Helena and the other rebels.

“Excellent. Let us go.” Roman and Victor followed Asia’s mother as she hurried down to
the beach. She calmly stripped and strode into the ocean, shifting as soon as the water
was deep enough.

Roman gestured for the other two to join them.

“Well, mate,” Victor drawled, still staring after the orca cutting through the water. “I can
see what the fuss is about, if your lady’s ass is as fine as her ma’s.”

“You’re sick,” Weed said.

“I can’t help it if I have a thing for older woman,” Victor said, a small smile playing on
his lips.

“Enough.” Roman cut through the crap. He glanced down the beach and saw others
shifting and diving through the incoming waves. “The Bolino clan has arrived. I’ve given
my word that we will hold the peace. No attacks or violence toward the Bolinos. Save it
for Helena and the rebels.”

They tore off their clothes and dropped them on the sand. Roman sprinted in the water
and shifted seamlessly. He sucked in a breath and dived beneath the water, casting out a
series of soft vocal clicks. Victor, Weed, and the pilot swam nearby. They answered and
fanned out to cover a wider area. On his right, another series of clicks indicated that
Asia’s family and tribe were calling for her.

They’d find Asia before Helena got to her. There was no other alternative.

* * * *

Asia swam aimlessly without a specific destination in mind. She allowed the cool water
to soothe her aching head and only surfaced when necessary. The angle of the seabed
deepened and seaweed waved gently with the current. Schools of fish darted in and out of
the rock formations, shying away from her in case she was hunting. Asia ignored them
but found it difficult to ignore the loneliness that swept over her without warning. Roman
had crept into her heart and his leaving had left a gaping hole that continued to bleed. She
didn’t understand what had happened to make him leave. She’d tried to contact him via
satellite phone but none of the calls were answered. Screening his calls no doubt.

A gray shape swam in front of her before disappearing behind rocks. Asia hesitated but
when it didn’t reappear she relaxed, continuing on her lazy meandering journey through
the valley created by the huge boulders.

Harsh clicks of an unfamiliar dialect cut through the peace of the undersea world. Asia
stopped, her heart pounding with apprehension. A hammerhead shark swam in front of
her, and she relaxed momentarily. One shark, she could cope with. She flicked her fluke
to propel herself through the water and headed for the shark. The last thing she needed to
do was show fear. When she was halfway through the valley, several orcas appeared in
front of her. Guttural clicks bounced off the rocks as they communicated. The unfamiliar
dialect. Asia understood one word in every four or five, but one thing was clear.

Danger

.

Asia turned, intending to exit the same way she’d entered. Three sharks and an orca
waited for her, blocking her path to freedom.

Up. The only way out of this mess was up.

Asia swam strongly, leaping from the water.

Surrounded

.

Fear bloomed along with confusion. Why were they targeting her? Who were they? She
splashed back into the water and gave a distress call. Please let someone from her clan
hear. Please be there, Luca .

One of the orca approached Asia, its mouth open in a smirk. Asia backed up. She
repeated her distress call, and the orca’s grin widened. Asia refused to do nothing. Big for
her sex, she might make it if she rushed them. Take them by surprise. Decision made,
Asia acted on it. She propelled her body through the water, heading away from the
female and straight for the sharks and orcas at the other end of the valley.

At the last moment, she realized they’d strung a net over the exit. Too fast. She was going
too fast. Asia crashed into the net. The force of her impact sent the sharks and two orcas
backward. For a second, she thought she’d make it, but their combined strength held. The
net wrapped around her and held her under the water.

Air

. She needed to breathe. They were going to keep her under water. Icy fear hit then.

Her family. She would never see them again. She would never see Roman again. Never
be able to tell him she loved him. Never have the opportunity to smack him one for acting
the bastard.

She was going to die

.

But she wasn’t going to die without a fight. Asia whacked a hammerhead in the face with
her fluke. She struggled violently, fighting and muscling her way to the surface. The
harder she fought, the more tangled the net became, wrapping around her body, holding
her fast. Lack of air made her mind hazy. Black dots appeared before her eyes. She cried
out, the clicks of distress lost in frenzied calls of the strangers.

* * * *

Roman paused. “Did you hear that?” he called to the others. “That sounded like Helena.
Weed, go and summon one of the Bolinos. Tell them they’re in the canyon, if you can get
them to understand.”

He raced off in the direction of the excited chatter, swimming as he’d never swam before.
Panic wrapped around him, clinging and threatening to swallow him alive. Asia. What if
Helena killed her? Hell, that was a given. She’d want to show strength. Killing a Bolino
would show her followers she was serious, that she wouldn’t quibble about annihilating
the other clan--their enemies.

Asia would die thinking he’d deserted her.

The sharks saw them first. They hesitated, and Roman and his clan members attacked.
The water churned white. Flukes inflicted lethal blows. Teeth slashed at unguarded
flanks. Blood seeped into the water.

“The Bolinos are here,” Victor called. “Find Asia.”

Roman needed no further prodding. Fear propelled him forward, searching for Helena. A
red haze of fury prodded him on. He’d find the traitorous bitch and force her to give
answers.

He heard a familiar voice issuing orders. Helena. The orders sent a chill surging the
length of his body. Asia. They had her.

“ Drown the bitch ,” Helena snarled.

A net. Guarded. Damn, he needed backup. He turned to see who was available and to his
great relief, he saw Luca and his mother fast approaching. He didn’t hesitate. He swam
directly at the net from below. Asia needed air. He prayed she was conscious enough to
breathe on her own. Roman shunted Asia upward, casually flicking off two hammerhead
sharks that dared to take issue. An orca charged but Roman ignored it, putting his faith in
the Bolino clan. Blood seeped from wounds along her body. Shit, luckily the sharks
hadn’t gone into a feeding frenzy. Obviously they feared Helena more. The worst gash
was at her throat, and the net they’d captured her in clung to her body. It was strong,
made from some sort of nylon. He’d need a knife. Roman held her weight above the
surface of the water until the need to breathe made him seek the air. To his relief, he
detected an erratic pulse. She lived. For the moment.

A dark shape darted toward him. Helena. Roman steeled himself for the blow but it didn’t
come. Weed and Victor seized Helena, driving her off, and Roman concentrated on Asia.

Gradually, the waters around them stilled. Roman glanced around and saw orcas from the
Bolino clan and his friends had surrounded them in a protective circle. Asia’s mother
swam forward along with another orca that seemed much older, its dorsal fin skewed to
the side. They both nudged Asia gently. Communication took place, a series of low-
pitched squeaks and singing. Roman found he understood part of what they said. He
vocalized in return.

“Back to shore,” Asia’s mother said.

The journey back to the beach near Asia’s house took longer than Roman had expected.
The net snagged on rocks and trapped Victor. Asia’s mother organized a rescue while
Roman kept Asia afloat.

“Hurry,” he urged, hearing the trace of panic in his vocals. A shiver wracked Asia.
Shock. Damn, they had to hurry.

Two of the orcas yanked on the net. Victor swam free, and Roman noticed him nuzzling
Asia’s mother before they swam on. Roman snorted with a quick flash of amusement.
Victor never lost an opportunity to score.

Finally, they reached the shore. Roman held Asia above water while the others shifted.
When they had her, he moved away and shifted.

“A knife,” he hollered. “Someone get a knife to cut her free. Where are the healers?” He
took in her still form, his fear escalating. “Will she be able to change?”

“I don’t know,” her mother said. Her dark hair lay plastered against her head, contrasting
sharply with the paleness of her cheeks. She shivered, and Victor appeared at her side, his
usual grin strangely absent.

He slipped an arm around her waist. “The healer is here. He will know.”

A Bolino handed Roman a knife, and they hacked away the net from her still body.
Roman held her, making sure she didn’t drown yet keeping her skin moist.

The healer ran gnarled hands over her wounds. “Superficial,” he muttered. “Apart from
this one at her throat, and this one on her chest.”

Asia moaned and winced when the healer probed the wound. Her blowhole contracted.

Relief swept through Roman. Tears built at his eyes, but he ignored them. “She’s coming
to.” His voice emerged rich with emotion--everything he felt for Asia all rolled up in
those three words. “Asia, can you hear me?”

“She’s trying to shift,” the healer murmured.

The air shimmered around her. Roman saw her pale features flash in an out. “Come on,
babe. You can do it.”

Then the shimmering ceased, and she appeared in her human form. Asia collapsed,
unable to stand on her own. A wave washed over her head before Roman could seize her.
She coughed weakly as he carried her up the beach. The gurgling sound didn’t sound
reassuring. The gaping wound at her throat brought fury. Helena would pay for this
atrocity.

A sharp blast--a series of whistles--filled the silence.

“Intruder alert,” one of the Bolinos said tersely.

“Everyone dress before they think this is a nudist colony,” Victor quipped.

There was a mad scramble for clothes.

“I’ll get yours,” Victor said to Roman and Asia’s mother. “Go to the house.”

Roman scooped Asia up and ran for the house. Once inside, he placed her on the bed. It
was bad. He didn’t need a healer to tell him that.

“Leave,” the healer said. “Summon Marge,” he added.

Roman didn’t want to leave, but Asia’s mother propelled him from the room with a firm
push.

She could die. The knowledge simmered in the air between them. And that’s when
Roman knew for sure that he loved this orca and wished to mate with her. The very idea
of trying to live without her was unthinkable. Asia was part of him now. He loved her.

Chapter Nine

“You will see him,” her mother stated. “The orca is decent, even if he is an Anderson.”
Her brow creased with a hint of confusion. “Some of the Anderson clan are ... worthy.”

Asia inhaled sharply. Too suddenly, her healing wounds protested. The pain jerked her
back to the reality of her situation. “I’m ugly,” she rasped. “Scarred.” Tears built and
overflowed, dripping down both cheeks.

“The orca loves you.”

Pain of another sort seared her heart. She swallowed painfully. “He went away.”

“I didn’t go away willingly. My brother shanghaied me. I was imprisoned on the island. I
came as soon as I could. How are you?”

Asia stared at Roman, unable to resist looking her fill, filing away memories to pull out
when she was alone. When he left her for the final time. “Fine.” But that was a lie. She
wasn’t fine. The sharks had ripped her vocal cords. She would never sing again.

The bedroom door opened. “Don’t go.” Too late. The door clicked shut behind her
mother leaving her alone with Roman.

He sauntered closer, moving in that slow way of his that made her hot. She’d have to get
over that. He wouldn’t want to saddle himself with her, not now with the way she looked.
The way she sounded like a croaky duck squawking for breakfast. Roman perched on the
edge of the bed and took her hand in his. His touch seared. His clean fresh scent of
lemons and the outdoors made her weak with longing. She tried to disengage their hands
but he refused to let go.

“What’s this nonsense about me not wanting you?” He placed her hand directly on his
groin. “Does this feel as though I’m repelled? I love you, babe. I still want to marry you.
I’m sorry you can’t sing anymore. I know how much you enjoyed it, how good you
were.”

Asia gasped, heat suffusing her cheeks. Was it possible? Her gaze flew to his and she saw
the same longing that festered inside her. She saw acceptance, approval. Asia saw love.
“Are you sure?” she managed. At least she could talk a little now. The healer assured her
the raspy note would lessen with time.

“Positive,” Roman said.

Asia struggled upward and slipped from the bed. The sheets fell away, baring her scarred
body to his gaze. “Last chance to run,” she murmured.

“Oh, babe. I’m so sorry,” Roman said. He raised his hand and gently traced the puckered
wound that curved around her breast.

Asia bit back a gasp at his touch. Arousal. Heck, he made her want him with a mere
touch. “Still want me?” She had to be sure.

“In a heartbeat.” He leaned over to brush a kiss on the healing wound at her throat.
“Always,” he murmured. “I love you, babe. You’re not getting away that easy.”

The doubt seeped away, replaced by another emotion. Love. “I love you too, Roman.”

“About time,” he murmured, and he lowered his head and kissed her to seal the bargain.

* * * *

The waves crashed into shore. A gull flew overhead.

“Wanna swim first?” Roman drawled.

“I have a better idea.” Asia undid the buttons on his shirt, revealing the hard muscle that
she loved to look at, to touch.

“And what would that be, Mrs. Anderson?”

“We’ll make love, then we’ll swim.”

Roman shrugged the shirt off, and Asia took a minute to admire the man’s broad
shoulders and gorgeous tan. This was a big step for her, and judging by the expression on
Roman’s face he knew it. So far, they’d kept their lovemaking in the bedroom with
darkness shrouding sight. They hadn’t even swum together. Today she wanted to show
him she believed in their love.

Asia tugged her T-shirt over her head. She hesitated, allowing the fear to take hold. It
grew rapidly, making her want to run.

“Show me your beautiful breasts.”

His gaze was on her cleavage, but then he looked up at her. His dark eyes were full of
desire. For her. That gave her courage. Her hands went to the front closure of her bra. She
flicked it open and allowed her breasts to spill free. Asia stood and before her courage
waned, she wriggled out of her denim shorts and silky panties.

“You are so lovely, babe. I have to keep reminding myself that you’re mine.” He took her
hand and tugged her down to his side. “My mate.”

Asia shivered when his hands cupped her breasts. The rough rasp of his fingertips over
her flesh made her shiver with anticipation. Between her legs moistened, preparing her
for their joining. He rolled a nipple between his fingers. Asia bit back a groan. So hot. So
fast. She needed him now.

“Now,” she implored. “Don’t make me wait.”

Roman smiled, a little wickedly. Her pulse rate hiked at the promise inherent in his eyes,
his expression. She rolled over on her back and spread her legs without shame. The sun
shone down overhead, warming her skin with tiny kisses. She noticed Roman’s hands
shook as he attempted to remove the last of his clothes. The last of her doubt dissolved.
He really didn’t care about her scars and imperfections. All he saw was beauty.

“I love you, Roman. I’d love you even more if you made love to me. Now.”

Roman chuckled as he joined her on the blanket they’d spread out on the sand. He kissed
her at the same time as he filled her with one seamless thrust. Her womb contracted,
clasping him as tightly as her arms wrapped around him. Roman was her mate. She was
his. They belonged together.

Roman thrust. Once. Twice. Three times. Sensation soared within Asia, finally spilling
over. She shattered with explosive force, felt Roman thrust again and come inside her.
Oh, yeah, they belonged together. They were a team.

Asia sighed in contentment and pressed a lazy kiss against his sweaty shoulder.

Life was good.

The End