The Merman and the Barbarian Pirate (22 page)

A short while later, Raef wound up a steep cliff path, leading a sweet-tempered donkey. The animal was laden with one saddlebag full of gold and another with the registry book tucked inside. Sarah and Cecilia followed behind, sharing a bucket of clams and whispering to each other in an intimate fashion that made him melancholy. Their closeness also summoned his old companion envy, though he tried not to dwell on anything, save the strain on his legs from the uphill climb. He looked to the clouded sky, where one or two stars emerged as twinkling pinpricks in the rumpled blanket of the heavens. Then he looked to Jon, who strode ahead of them with a lantern, picking out their path through the gorse. Jon didn't speak to him, and he was glad of it.

They passed along the cliff top for about half an hour before taking a narrow lane that wove inland between tumbledown farmsteads and overgrown meadows. Raef had never been so far from the sea, and the sights and sounds terrified and fascinated him. Though he'd taken instantly to the donkey, which was as friendly as a dolphin, the prospect of encountering the wilder land creatures filled him with dread. An eerie moaning—the cry of a stag, so Sarah told him—had him trembling to his toes. He imagined a horned creature the size of a whale. Despite the dangers entailed in meeting Edith, Raef hoped the trek would soon be over.

By the time Jon pointed out the dark hulk of a building on the far side of the valley, the witching hour was upon them. "That's where the dowager Lady Haverford lives," said Jon. "Indeed, it's the old Haverford Castle. It's in such a dilapidated state, only the gatehouse is habitable."

"I thought the castle by the sea was old." Raef leveled at Jon's side with the donkey, relieved to find an easy topic of conversation.

"It's sparkling and new compared to this pile," replied Jon. "Henry Haverford built the new hall thirty years ago, using the profits from his East Indies trading vessels, so he could entertain his society friends. You want a meandering ruin with real secret passages, hidden traps, and probably a ghost or two, this is it. I doubt Edith much likes it, mind."

As they trod nearer, Raef felt inclined to share Edith's dislike. The sole lights glimmered from the windows of a squat gatehouse, and the ancient keep loomed beyond, a crumbling shell. The entrance was blocked by a heavy gate. Jon rapped his knuckles on a smaller door cut within it and they waited.

And waited. Nobody came.

Raef patted the donkey's striped nose, and the beast nuzzled his hand; he'd found a new friend. Sarah and Cecilia exchanged anxious mutters while Jon knocked again.

At length, a sliding panel in the door opened, and a fellow shoved his mean-looking visage through. "Be gone with you, beggars," he hissed. "Lady Haverford gives all her charity at church."

"That's a lie. The old bitch never goes to church." Sarah, just out of the man's earshot, sniggered behind her hand.

"Neither do you, my pretty heathen," whispered Cecilia, elbowing her friend lightly in the ribs.

Jon, meanwhile, stopped the panel being slammed in his face by waving a gold coin.

"We're not here for your mistress's charity," he said. "We seek an audience with her. If you'd like to take Lady Haverford this token of my good intentions, there'll be plenty more where that comes from for both of you."

The man scuttled away. Presently the door swung open, setting bats flittering above their heads. Sarah and the donkey remained under the drab archway, under the watch of a second servant: an older fellow with bloodhound eyes. Jon retrieved the book. He, Raef, and Cecilia followed the first retainer up a stairway so narrow no grown adults could pass upon it. At the top, the servant stooped through the lowest door yet. "'Ere they are, Madam," he said, motioning to Raef and the others with a jerk of his head. "In you go."

Edith Haverford sat in a wingback chair beside a hearth no less meager than Cecilia's and on boards strewn with mouse droppings. As Raef entered, ducking beneath the cobwebbed lintel, the old woman fixed him with a heavy-lidded gaze.

"What do you want?" she snapped. "Disturbing an elderly lady at such an hour is criminal."

"I
am
a criminal," said Jon, seizing Edith's attention from Raef, which was a relief. Jon offered a low and mocking bow, then held out the book, which Edith ignored. With a spindly, lace-clad hand, she pointed to his earring. Her frosty demeanor softened.

"Are you a pirate, by any chance?" she asked.

"Yes, indeed," he replied.

Was that a smile curving on Edith's wizened lips? And could her beady eyes be tinged with hunger? Raef choked back a laugh. He couldn't question the old girl's taste, however unpleasant she was. Clearly, she fancied Jon.

"Well, well, well. This is interesting," said Edith. "I don't suppose you've come here to ravish me, and there's not much to steal." She adjusted a blanket draped over her lap, and her gaze rested at last on the book. "What is that?"

"The parish registry book from St. Brigit's chapel on the cliff," said Jon as plainly as if they were discussing the weather.

Edith blanched and clasped the shawl at her throat while Cecilia jumped forward, anger iridescent in her eyes. "We're here to see justice done. It's time somebody paid for the disappearance of my mother."

After Edith had got over the initial shock—and had cursed Cecilia to the devil—she listened surprisingly calmly to their terms. She toyed with the strands of white hair that tufted her chin and glared periodically at the book, which was propped in a corner. She also glared at Cecilia, who stood rigid a few paces afar. Cecilia had transformed from the good-natured creature of their journey. She met the old woman's malice with a dignified haughtiness that Raef couldn't help admiring as he waited with his rear to the fire.

"So," said Edith, "you want me to admit my brothers' committed forgery and disinherit my son." She gestured around her chamber, which contained only her chair, a chunky dresser, a threadbare rug, and a fire poker in a pot. "And give up all
this
in exchange for gold doubloons worth a thousand pounds."

"You are getting off damned lightly," said Jon, who paced the room, hands clasped behind his back. "All the blame can be laid with your brothers, who are dead, so no harm can come to them. You will be richer than you are now, and we will bring your son down one way or another. If you don't help us, we'll bring you down with him."

"There's no need to threaten me." Edith fingered a piece of paper in her lap, which Jon had prepared for her, a confession that attested  how her brothers counterfeited the marriage register. "I will sign and seal this scrap in exchange for the gold, but I have a few conditions of my own to add."

"How dare you." Cecilia surged toward Edith, her shadow sweeping over the old woman like a dark, avenging angel. "I bet you killed my mother
and
father
.
You're lucky I haven't throttled you with my bare hands."

"Be silent, child," hissed Edith, clutching the front of her nightgown, but otherwise unruffled. "Your papa was ill, and I know nothing of what became of your slatternly mama."

"You lie." Cecilia's fists were clenched, trembling with fury. Raef couldn't help wanting her to unleash her wrath.

Edith raised the unsigned confession and twisted it as if to tear. "Strike me, and you're on your own, my darlings. Oh, you might get your case heard at the Old Bailey eventually. But while my son lives to challenge you, and I to gainsay you, the whole estate will end up swallowed in legal costs."

"She's right." Jon placed a calming hand on Cecilia's arm and whispered something Raef couldn't catch. Cecilia pursed her lips furiously, but remained silent. Jon rounded on Edith. "Go on," he said gruffly. "Tell us what you want."

"I am a lonely old woman. I miss my beauty, my youth… and the company of handsome men." Raef looked nervously at Jon, who frowned intensely. "Oh, don't worry," croaked Edith. "I don't expect favors from you. That would lack taste. Nevertheless, you are a handsome bunch of young things, and the least you can do is provide me with entertainment. You." She jabbed a finger at Cecilia, who jerked up her chin in disgust. "You're a bitch, but you're pretty, just like your harridan mama. And you."

She pointed at Jon, but Cecilia briefly drowned her out, broadsiding her with a tirade of abuse. "You old trot. You witch. You fustilugs!"

Edith raised her crackling voice. "I want you to kiss the girl, pirate, and kiss her well. I can't ask you to kiss me, but I can live vicariously, even if it is through a woman I loathe. And now, you." She poked a digit toward Raef, for whom Edith's previous demand had already triggered a gut-roiling nausea. "I want to keep
you
as my houseboy, beautiful one."

Words failed Raef. He shook his head, mouth gaping, and Jon rushed to his side. "That's quite unacceptable—"

"If you wish me to sign this confession," said Edith, patting the paper, "those are my terms."

Raef joined Cecilia in staring daggers at Edith, who offered an unpleasant smile. "We'd better discuss this," muttered Jon. "We'll give you our answer presently."

Squeezed together on the staircase outside the chamber, they formed a huddle. They enfolded their arms about one another's shoulders, bodies pressing close. It took all Raef's powers of restraint not to glower at Jon and Cecilia as angrily as he had at Edith. None of this was their fault, especially not the requested kiss, the prospect of which was screwing him up inside.

"I won't leave you here, Raef," said Jon, his tone irrefutable.

That part of the deal hardly seemed to matter. "I can promise Edith I'll stay, then run anyway," said Raef. "I'm pretty sure I can escape an old woman and her retainers."

Jon winced, uneasy. "I suppose you
are
rather good at lying and escaping, but—"

"What about this kiss?" interrupted Cecilia. "I don't mind as such. I mean, who would?" Here she colored in a pretty fashion that set Raef's teeth on edge. "But there is somebody else I care for, from whom I'll have to beg forgiveness for it. And I hate to do anything for the woman who killed my mother, because I know she did, even if she denies it. I
feel
it, and I'd rather strike her dead on the spot."

"We might get around to that," said Jon, his frustration palpable. "But if the kiss forces her to sign willingly, it is the easiest way." He flicked his dark gaze from Cecilia back to Raef. "We won't leave you here, though, my boy. I don't trust Edith any farther than I could toss a Scottish chieftain."

"I suppose we'd better try to appease her with the kiss, then." Cecilia sighed, sounding like she'd rather bathe in a cesspool.

Her reluctance made little difference to Raef. At that moment, he would have chosen to spend a decade as Edith's houseboy rather than watch Jon share the magic of those kisses with another. Jon looked at him in anticipation of some response, but Raef raised his gaze to the ceiling. It seemed to press down on him like a collapsing cave.

Jon was right. This was the easiest way. Seeing as Raef had given up on the idea of a future with Jon, the kiss shouldn't matter anyway. He shrugged. "Let's get it over with."

"Well?" demanded Edith on their return. "Do I get my requests?"

"Cecilia and I will oblige," said Jon, his voice shaking, "but Raef cannot stay with you. I won't leave a man behind."

Edith threw up her hands in a gesture of despair. "You're not much of a barbarian, are you?"

Raef butted in; he couldn't help himself. "Excuse me, but what
is
a barbarian?"

"A real man." Edith snorted, nostrils flaring. "A proper pirate—one who lies, cheats, kills, and rips the threads off his favored prey and slams his tongue down their throat before they can scream. Now kiss the girl, you fop, before I throw this damned paper to the fire. Show me some passion!"

"Then shut up, you hag!" Cecilia edged toward Jon, who gripped her shoulders and pulled her close. Cecilia, visibly melting a little, thrust out her breasts so they firmed against Jon's chest. They stared into each other's eyes, and Raef yearned to look away, to run for the hills. Like a man lying on the rack and shouting, "
Stretch me
," he surrendered himself to the torture. He was entranced, but unable to keep the pain and horror from his face.

Jon looked at Raef and softened his frown a moment before turning back to Cecilia. Jon was going to do it. Of course he was. He'd kissed innumerable men and women before, and none of them meant more than a brief snatch of pleasure. This action was nothing more than a means to an end … so why was Jon as rigid as those statues outside Lord Haverford's bedchamber? Jon's face was transformed into a marble effigy of anguish.

"This is all wrong." Jon released Cecilia and took a purposeful stride back. "I can thieve and fib, crack all the commandments at once, but Cecilia should be kissing another and … so should I."

Eh? But it's just a kiss. A kiss that would've torn me up inside, but I'm a fool for love, and it means little to you, surely?

In the hearth beside them, black embers tumbled and hissed. Cecilia dabbed her lips nervously, and Edith bared pink gums in a snarl. A single step closed the gap between Jon and Raef, so they stood face-to-face on the rug in front of the fire. Jon fired his midnight gaze with a hitherto-unseen possessiveness that speared to Raef's core and shattered Raef's wits into a thousand pieces.

"If you wish to see me kiss somebody and mean it," declared the Pirate Kemp, "it's got to be Raef."

Fourteen