The Merman and the Barbarian Pirate (6 page)

Kemp touched his shoulder, and he flinched as if licked by the cat o' nine tails. The deck slanted as the
Alice O'Shanty
rode a giant among the day's comparatively docile waves, and then Kemp crouched in front of him. Kemp's hair glistened, wetted by the spray. He wore a broad-tailed jacket that might've been splendid were its cuffs not frayed. "At ease, lad," he said gruffly.

Raef obeyed with a sigh and couldn't muster the courage to glower again.

"I don't intend to keep this ring," explained Kemp, stroking the gem with his thumb. "I wear it on this ship, because I know my crew. They're good lads, but they've fingers that'll filch in their sleep. Hell, any of us can dose a lock in a jiffy. It's not wise to leave such temptation in their way."

"So what do you intend to do with it?" asked Raef, still trying to interpret half of what Kemp just said. "Sell it?"

"I'm going to give it to somebody who deserves it much more than your Lord Haverford. In fact, you might say that Haverford stole it from
them
."

Haverford stealing? Raef dismissed that notion as more kluggite nonsense. There was no evidence otherwise. But who was this lucky soul Kemp intended to give it to? A woman? Or maybe Captain Kemp loved men? The ship rocked again, Raef's heart lurched, and he dismissed an inexplicable pang of jealousy. Kemp must never present this ruby ring to a beloved. It was for Raef to give back to his lord and…

Kemp grabbed Raef's hand and lifted it. Raef barely contained a squeak. "What are you doing?"

 "Trying to work you out." Kemp turned Raef's hand over in his. "You've skin smooth as a fine lady's."

"Hardly." Raef scrunched his nose. His flesh was usually flawless, save the impermanent wrinkles left by the water, but he'd acquired a good dozen splinters on this horrid ship. He snatched his hand away, only to have Kemp reach out to take the laces of his shirt and start weaving them through the little holes down the front that had vexed him.

"And you've not a clue how to dress yourself. What are you, Raef? One of Haverford's fancy boys? Is that why you won't tell me? But no, that can't be right. You'd be more aware of your…"

Kemp broke off, frowning as he continued fastening Raef's clothing. His calloused fingers skimmed Raef's throat, then chest, 'til Raef's mind was awhirl.

What did Kemp think him not aware of? His charms? Raef hoped he was attractive, with his large green eyes, smallish nose, and well-developed biceps and chest, not to mention his lovely, golden hair. However, humans possessed codes of communication with regards to these things that he couldn't even start to understand. After all, even those humans who'd nice bodies—as Kemp did—chiefly hid them. And gods, though Kemp was engaged in dressing him, covering him up, Kemp's nearness somehow made him feel more naked than ever before in his life.

"Can you tie your own breeches?" asked Kemp.

Kneeling, breathless, Raef shook his head, then regretted it. Surely he could've given the task a go, and that would avoid …
Aaaaaah!
Kemp skirted fingers over the taut flesh of Raef's belly, tugging up the waistband and fastening the drawstrings in a knot. Raef stared at Kemp's weather-bronzed face, stretching his eyes so wide he felt the lick of the wind on them. He breathed in Kemp's musk, and unsettling warmth pooled in his groin, followed by a pleasant tightening. He'd known these sensations before, when he'd watched Lord Haverford and touched himself, and…
Oh, help me!
That union of bodies he sought with Lord Haverford. That nebulously-envisaged surrender of self. Maybe, just maybe, he craved it from Kemp, too.

Kemp rose, squeezing his shoulder. "Now finish your job well, lad, and there'll be a tot of rum in your tea with lunch."

He stalked toward the ship's wheel and gripped its great wooden spokes. Raef mentally shook himself. If a kluggite was being kind, there must be some shady reason behind it. Captain Kemp was a barbarian. However, he seemed to appreciate Raef's looks, good or otherwise. Of that, Raef felt increasingly sure. Why else would he keep staring so?

Grinding the stone over a patch of tar, Raef assembled a tentative plan. To steal back the ruby, he must ingratiate himself to Kemp. Kemp's crew all appeared to be good chums, so he should propose friendship. The notion of offering Kemp a kiss skittered through his mind. He dismissed it. He must not give his affections or body to a pirate. Nevertheless, he could pretend to be a little enamored by Kemp and his piratical ways in order to earn some trust. In a moment of distraction, he might then retrieve the ring.

The scheme was dangerous, but if he got Kemp alone and timed his actions well, it could work. Besides, he had no better idea, other than slinking away empty-handed at dusk. A wave broke over the starboard rail, soaking his back. The breeze seemed to be stiffening, the crests of the ocean rising, and the
Alice O' Shanty
leaped and danced like a porpoise. From the helm, Kemp shouted instructions, sending George flying up into the sails to trim them. Raef scrubbed all the more furiously as he fortified himself for his task. Thank heavens Kemp wasn't as physically odious as the rest of the crew.

Taking back the ruby was still the best opportunity he'd been gifted all summer to earn Lord Haverford's attention. He could do it. He could befriend Kemp. He just needed to be… charming.

Four

When Captain Kemp called him over for supper toward the end of the afternoon, Raef was exhausted.

He'd done what had been demanded of him, scouring every inch of the deck with the stone, and then swabbing it with seawater 'til the smoothed wood glistened. After lunch, Kemp had sat him down to teach him to tie knots so he could help repair the nets. He'd mastered the art quickly and well, though it had been a struggle to keep his mind on the task. Kemp had leaned close and manipulated his fingers to help tie intricate fisherman's eyes and sheepshanks. His stomach had fluttered as if a shoal of minnows was trapped within.

He told himself over and over that this attraction to Kemp wasn't a problem. It couldn't be love. He had already fallen in love with another, and he wouldn't give his heart twice. Anyhow, it was good Kemp didn't repel him, and now sunset approached, his real work lay ahead. He just hoped he had the energy, as he'd spent the final hours learning to climb in the rigging and balance along the yardarm. This had strained every joint and sinew in his fragile human frame.

The pirates, captain, and all but one of a crew of nine now dined on the high poop deck, sitting on upturned barrels. To one side of the ship, they enjoyed expansive views of the powdery skies, and on the other lay the inhospitable rock with the sheer cliff sides by which they'd anchored for the night. Raef dragged himself up the ladder from the main deck, forced his spine to straighten, and staggered to the perch reserved for him.

"Looks like we worked our new cabin boy too hard," said Kemp, before slowly licking his knife.

"I'm all right," said Raef, sitting down. He hated feeling weak. He wasn't used it. An older fellow with bushy side-whiskers, Victor, who'd prepared the food in the galley, passed a platter to Raef. He took it gratefully, and Peffy handed him a bottle of something or other.

"You'll feel better after a dose of that." Peffy beamed. "You'll never be able to last long at sea if you can't take your liquor. 'Tis as bad as not being able to stomach a jolly gale."

Oh, the irony. If only these silly pirates knew the truth of him, of the storms and swells he could endure and the depths he could plunge without air. He wasn't scared of this rocky island, either. The reefs around the home of his tribe were twice as sharp. But this crew would never learn any of it. They mustn't. He managed to smile back—he'd been polite all afternoon to lull the company into a false sense of security—and took a glug of the drink.

He froze, spat the liquor out, and shoved the bottle back at Peffy. "It burns," he said, wiping the remnants from his chin. "Are you trying to poison me?"

Peffy laughed so hard he clutched his sides, and the rest of the crew joined him. Victor pulled out a grubby handkerchief and wiped his rheumy eyes. Raef bristled, though when Kemp chuckled and patted his knee, he felt easily appeased. Too easily?

"It's fortified Jamaican rum," explained Kemp. "One of the stoutest bevvies on the high seas. Maybe it's a little early for you to enjoy the Caribbean contraband, but there's no gnat's piss on my ship."

Raef managed a self-depreciating smirk and then ate as keenly as he could. He just couldn't fathom these folk. They were coarse and unruly, but they behaved more like high-spirited revelers than killers. Indeed, he'd never known anyone to laugh as much as they did. Merfolk certainly didn't, at least, not in recent years; Galyna made sure they took life and its duties seriously. He'd barely seen Lord Haverford crack that handsome façade either.

The company's mirth, however, could not alleviate his weariness. By the time George rose to dance a jig, he was panicking. Judging by the skies, it was still about an hour 'til sundown. He must get his strength up, but the sight of George hopping around sapped him further. He rose slowly, trying not to appear abrupt or impolite. "May I take a rest down below?"

Kemp heaved his broad shoulders in a shrug. "You're at leisure 'til I say otherwise."

Raef descended to the lower deck and clambered into the only hammock that had been left unfurled during the day. It hung in a dark corner above a rat trap stuffed with green cheese. The biggest risk now was falling asleep and missing his chance for escape, so he forced his eyelids wide. When he felt them lulling closed, he dug his nails into the back of his hand 'til they stung. He inhaled the cheese's rancid stench, which overwhelmed even the salt and the tar.

These pirates were so confusing. And as for Kemp, his calloused touch was the sweetest Raef had known since his mother passed. That vicious attack on Lord Haverford seemed like a dream. But it was real. It had happened only yesterday, and he hated Kemp for it. Well, he disliked Kemp very much. Soon, vengeance would be his, and triumph would belong to Lord Haverford and to the cause of righteousness.

He lay there, willing fortitude into his limbs, 'til he heard a tread across the deck above. Kemp. He had a bolder step than any of the others and was going back to his cabin… alone. Raef slid onto his feet. He must go talk with Kemp now or miss his chance.

Up on deck, Peffy and George were sharing that bottle of horrid liquor and enjoying a game of dice. "Raef! Come shake with us," called George, and Peffy displayed his few brown teeth in a grin. Their jolliness made his head hurt. Only Kemp could give him the ruby ring, so he didn't have to be nice to them. He couldn't bring himself to snub them either. They acted like they wanted him to like them, which warmed his heart, even if it would most likely turn out to be some ruse.

"Maybe later," he called back and summoned a smile.

On reaching the door of the captain's cabin, he stopped and clutched the frame. Kemp had stripped his shirt again and reclined on his bunk reading his book. Evening light slanted through the porthole, rippling on golden flesh and gleaming off his hooped earring. When Kemp noticed him, Raef snapped his mouth shut. He mustn't gape, even at a veritable sun-kissed god, yet his veins began to hum, his loins to harden. What was wrong with him? He wanted the kluggite. He ached to touch Kemp's body, to grind his aching flesh against Kemp's. Maybe offering a kiss wouldn't be
such
a bad scheme? He’d do it to help win Kemp’s trust, of course, though he couldn’t suppress his curiosity or keenness to savor those generous lips.

Kemp sat up, swinging his feet to the floor. "What brings you snooping here, eh?"

"W-we need to talk." What was it about Kemp that made Raef stammer? He couldn't gauge it.

"That's a sound plan." Kemp placed the book on the table and came closer. "I can't work you out at all, my lad. You've still not told me what it is you do for Lord Haverford. You're clearly neither a servant nor a so-called gentleman, and you're no Navy man, that's for sure. So what are you?"

"It doesn't matter." Flustered by the unanswerable question, Raef fell to his knees.

Kemp jumped, clutching the handle of a cutlass at his side. Raef prayed Kemp wouldn't strike, and gazed up at him, imploring. "I want to apologize for being unfriendly earlier. You, er, you've been good to me, at least good for a pirate, and…"

Raef's attention slammed onto the formidable package at the front of Kemp's breeches, and a ravenous hunger overtook him. He moistened his dry lips. Now he understood exactly why those young mer threw themselves at lords and princes. These cravings swamped even those he'd harbored for Haverford. He was so desperate to see what lay beneath Kemp's clothing, he'd all but lay down his life for a peek.

"And?" Kemp eased his grip about the pommel.

Raef's voice sounded weak and distant. "I, uh, wondered if you and I could get to know each other a bit better."

"Did you indeed? And why exactly are you kneeling before me?"

"Um, because…" With shaking hands, Raef reached for the silver buckle on Kemp's belt. He didn't know what he was doing, but some uncontrollable urge within him shouted this was right. Perhaps it was because he was unused to folk being dressed, because he
needed
Kemp naked.