The Merman and the Barbarian Pirate (19 page)

Kemp quirked a roguish grin. "I don't see why not. Are you sure there's nothing else bothering you?"

"Quite sure," murmured Raef. A sharp whistle tore between then. George yelled, "Land ahoy," and Raef was pleased to let an outbreak of activity take the heat of Kemp's attentions for a while.

They anchored up an estuary near a rocky point. The feat was rendered all the more dangerous by the clouds, which had thickened and sunk down to form a white sheet across the channel. After Kemp had navigated the vessel to safety, laughter broke the tension and echoed through the ship. The crew was preparing to row ashore to a tavern called the Dog and Partridge. This was where they'd arranged to meet Victor and his son, the two who'd gone to visit relatives. Raef hovered near the lee railing, keeping a low profile. He was keen to get back into the water and shift.

The last thing he wanted was to watch Kemp making merry and cavorting with another man. He still felt silly for asking if he could call him Jon. None of the crew seemed to do so, and he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to use the name. Would he come across too keen? Too desperate? Then again, Kemp… Jon… was the one who'd asked him stay, though he daren't hope it meant anything beyond a pirate's whim or fancy. At least, not 'til Jon said so, and even then, he wouldn't trust his word. He must focus on friendship and make the best of things.

The men were piling over the windward side of the ship, clambering down ropes into the little boat. Fog swirled across the decks between Raef and the others. He tried to feel thankful that a barrier rose between them rather than disappointed nobody had asked him to join them. He wasn't one of them. He didn't fit in, and…

"Raef!" Jon emerged from the cabin and strolled toward him, a looming silhouette wreathed in the mists. "Are you coming, lad?"

"No," Raef answered quickly. "I'd rather stay here."

"Oh. Would you like any of us to remain and keep you company?"

You.

Raef swallowed back that answer, especially now Jon was close enough to reach out and touch. Or to embrace. "Really, there's no need."

"Well, if you're sure. I'll stay if you like?"

 Jon's gruff suggestion sent tremors through Raef's veins. He turned, clutching the rail, ready to jump over. Darkness must come soon, and if he stayed here with Jon, he'd give his body. He wouldn't be able to save himself. Then, tomorrow or the day after, when Jon went carousing with the others and sought new and more exciting lovers, it would destroy him. One of the many things he'd learned about himself of late was that he was a jealous being; he couldn't seem to help that.

"Please go with them," he said. "Honestly, I'd rather you did. I'm used to being alone."

Jon called back for the men to wait and then leaned beside him, forming a steeple with his hands. They stared into the whiteout. Their elbows brushed, igniting sparks that set Raef trembling.

"Have you seen much of the world?" asked Jon.

Raef shook his head. "Not much beyond my home and this small part of the English coast. I used to think Haverford's castle the most beautiful place anywhere."

"Ah, you've not seen the beaches of Jamaica." Jon drew his hand through the vapors before them like a magician intent on transforming the haze into a paradise. "Spotless sands, gently swaying palm trees, the sweet scents of the tropical fruits. But such evil lies nearby. They call Port Royal the wickedest city in the New World, and I can vouch for the truth of it. Appearances are very deceptive."

"Yes," murmured Raef. "I know." He paused, battling to keep his emotions in check. "I suppose the most beautiful place is always that which one calls home."

And Raef had no place to call home, except… Jon drifted an arm about him, and his blood jolted. He leaned into Jon, instincts driving him, relishing the intimacy.

"For me," said Jon softly, "this ship is home. It always will be."

Raef shut his eyes, and for the briefest moment, he was home too. Not because he was on the
Alice O'Shanty
—though he'd passed a wonderful day aboard her, he could've been in vile Port Royal for all he cared—but because he was safe beside a man he adored. He didn't want to fall in love with Jon, he was fighting the tug of his heart with everything he'd got… yet to step away from Jon, even to dive into the sea and change, would have felt like ripping an arm off.

"Beyond that," whispered Jon, "I'm free to live as I chose." He coughed awkwardly. "Are you sure you won't come ashore? It'll be fun."

Raef's hopes shattered like breaking glass. Each time he allowed himself to hope that Jon could feel a tiny part of the attachment he did, Jon would strip his illusions down to the stark truth. Jon Kemp was a pirate, who lived well, ate and drank, and made merry and thieved. He didn't love. Raef let out a shaky sigh, shifting so Jon had to strain to keep hold of him. "Quite sure," he said. "You’d better go."

Jon didn't obey. He turned Raef about and pulled him into an embrace, and for a wonderful and terrifying moment, Raef thought he might refuse to leave. He crushed Raef tighter, setting explosive currents racing through Raef… and through them both. When Raef looked up, Jon winced and then conjured a smile, thin and slightly pained.

"Fare ye well, Raef." Jon released Raef and edged back, walking stiffly, and Raef noted the bulge in his tight breeches.

Ah yes. Jon felt a little of what Raef did—the physical aspects of it. All Jon wanted was Raef's body. Or did he? A dark flame leaped in Jon's gaze, which appeared to return Raef's longings with interest. As if leaving would cleave a wound across Jon's heart, like it would for Raef. Jon dragged his fingers wearily across his face, obliterating all. He turned and shouted, "Coming, lads," and was gone.

Raef went too, clambering down the bulwarks on the opposite side of the boat and into the chilly embrace of the sea. As he awaited the shift, he wanted to weep. He snarled instead. If Jon just wanted to be his friend, he should stop making him feel like he was the most precious thing in world, then reminding him ehe wasn't.

"Damn pirates," he grumbled, and surrendered willingly to the horror and magic of the change.

When Raef returned to the ship before dawn, Jon was leaning over the prow again. Jon greeted him as lightly as if they parted after a game of dice and hauled him on board. "Today," declared Kemp, "I'm going to have you looking like a seasoned buccaneer."

Raef tried to relax and to enjoy the activities as he had yesterday, but it was in vain. By the time George shouted that the coast near Lilhaven was in sight, Raef had a thick leather belt wrapped around his stolen waistcoat. He’d a pistol tucked in a halter at one side, a cutlass at the other, and a bicorn hat perched jauntily on his head. Gold rings looped his fingers.  Jon had tied his hair back with a ribbon and found him a pair of knee-high boots, which Raef felt particularly unhappy in. They'd be difficult to kick off in the water, when he wanted to return to his merman form. When he walked to the mizzenmast, the boot's leather rubbed.

Jon leaned back against one of the cannon and raked an appreciative gaze from Raef's head to his toes. "We can pierce you later for one of these, if you'd like," said Jon, fingering his earring. "But you're perfect already."

"You look a prince among vagabonds," added Peffy, who hauled in a net yielding a crop of silver fish. Raef took one glimpse at the poor creatures, silver tails thrashing and writhing as they gasped their last, and his spirits plummeted through the deck. He couldn't be Jon's friend, let alone his lover, if being so horribly human was required of him. Though he'd had a night's respite, he was sick and tired of these damned legs. He threw down his hat, then dragged off the boots, hopping wildly.

"What's wrong?" asked Jon.

"Everything." Raef hurled the boots at Jon's feet, then ripped the ribbon from his hair, so his golden locks tumbled free. "I'm not a pirate. I'll never be a pirate. Gods, I scarce understand the odd things you say. I'm a merman, and sooner or later, I'll need to get back into the sea." He sighed miserably and flinched when Jon touched him. "I
have
to go back to the sea."

"Oh," said Jon, his teeth gritted. "If you're not happy, Raef, nobody will stop you leaving. You're quite at liberty."

Am I? After the fun we've had together? After that look you gave me last night? And after you put your arm around me and took me to the shores of paradise?

Diving back into the ocean was a lonelier prospect than ever. Raef half wished he'd let Jon ravish him, to hell with the consequences. At least it would have been a memory to cherish. Raef sensed the tension rolling from Jon, as tangible as his own. Then Jon backed away, leaving him more wretched than ever. He wound the ribbon about his fingers, hating the crew's silence, the mocking shrieks of the gulls, and even the hisses and sighs of the sea. Nevertheless, now he'd expressed his woes, he felt able to broach one of the two topics he'd avoided since yesterday.

"Jon." He stared at the deck. It was first time he'd plucked the courage to use this name. "I can help you better with this treasure hunt as a merman. The sides of the cove where the face is are crumbly, prone to landslips, and best approached from the water. There are treacherous reefs, and you might get a small boat around on a calm day like this, but—"

"It would be easier for you to swim, eh?"

"I think so." Raef puffed a wisp of hair from his nose and dared look up. Jon mustered a smile, but it had lost its luster.

"Then you take the lead on this one. Once a merman, ever a merman, eh?" Jon rubbed Raef's arm, radiating warmth that nearly had Raef pleading,
Forget everything I said. Lock me in that cell again if you please, just don't let me go.

He bit his tongue. He'd done the right thing. Once a merman, ever a merman—and once a pirate, ever a pirate. Jon acted like he wanted to keep him. But Raef would wager his tail that he would be cast aside soon.

Twelve

When the stars twinkled overhead, Raef carved a path between the reefs toward the patterned cliff face. Jon followed behind. He sculled a small craft though docile waters, where the larger waves merged with the smaller ones to flatten out and tamely splash the hull. If it had been rough, Raef would've had to come alone, which might have been more comfortable.

He and Jon had spoken little since he'd thrown off his hat and boots. Jon had holed himself up in his cabin, studying his books and charts. Raef hadn't pestered. He’d found a quiet corner below the deck to hide and wait for sundown, though George had popped in for a chinwag.

"The captain's sweet on you," George had let slip. "We don't get to call him Jon. And he could've swived a diamond of the first order last night." Raef assumed George meant a handsome fellow. "But he brushed the cove off like he were a scurvy dog."

It pleased Raef that Jon hadn't fallen straight into the arms of another. He also liked that George had come to chat, as a friend would. George possessed a merry smile and nice, blue eyes, which Raef chastised himself for not noticing before, when all he'd seen was George's scar. Raef had changed much lately. He was a wiser soul, or so he hoped.

Thus he would act wisely. Now he was back in his mer form, he concentrated on the relief that filled him, along with his strength and a sense of power. He adored the new experiences and feelings that having legs—and human loins—had brought him, but this was his body and the real him. He couldn't escape that fact and didn't want to. If Jon wanted a human for a lover, then Raef wasn't right for him, apart from the matter that Jon downed different lovers as regularly as rum. So maybe Jon
should
have had a roll in the hay with that lad in the alehouse.

Resisting any niggle of sorrow, Raef concentrated on his task. He led the way under a natural rock archway and into the hidden cove.

The cliffs glowered nearly full circle around them, and his nerves tingled. Though he'd been to this spot many times before, he worried that he could have been mistaken about the face. He shoved his hair from his brow, squinting in the light afforded by a lamp on Jon's boat, and picked out the shape of an eagle. Then he discerned a stone shark, its snout a jagged ledge on which a seagull had nested, and to the left, the face. Raef traced the brows, crumbling and shaggy, slanting cracks in the place of eyes, and the hook of the nose, blunted by the battering waves. The lower lip, not far from the waterline, had disintegrated almost completely. Lashing tides had carved a gaping and mournful hollow.