by Emma Hamm
“Come now! You don’t want to hear anymore? It’s said mac Lir is the greatest of all sea gods and that even the merrows love him.”
“That’s not true.” The voice was the quiet drip of water against stone, the echo of ice gurgling. It was beautiful and haunting at the same time.
He held his breath and glanced over his shoulder at the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld.
She stood outlined by moonlight. The sheer white dress she wore plastered to her skin as if she had swum to the isle. Long, dark hair stuck to the fabric, covering her breasts, and brushing the tops of her thighs.
And her face was surely made by the heavens. Her dark eyes were like a storm brewing in the west. Her lips were stained wine dark, her skin the color of starlight. But it was her voice that captivated him. It carried the promise of fulfilled boyhood dreams.
“Is it not?” he asked. “I think I’m the one telling this tale.”
“If you’re going to tell a story, then you should tell the right one.”
He could see she was uncomfortable. She rocked back and forth on her heels, her fingers toying with the ends of her long hair.
“What is the right one then, beauty?”
Her brows furrowed. “I don’t like it when you call me that.”
“Why not?”
“It feels as if that is all you see.”
“That’s a strange thing to say,” he muttered and turned to face her. “What would you like me to call you?”
“Well, I’m not sure.”
“Why not?”
“No one has ever asked me that before.”
She was a strange woman, far stranger than he had expected. Manus rose from his crouch and crossed his arms. “You must tell me what you want me to call you.”
“Saoirse,” she blurted it out so quickly he raised a brow.
“That’s a name.”
“It is mine.”
“But I want to call you by a nickname.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Why?”
“They’re a form of endearment.”
“Surely you don’t consider me dear to you?”
Again, he asked, “Why not?”
“Because you hardly know me.”
“I don’t know you at all.”
Saoirse grinned, the smile so brilliant it nearly knocked him off his feet. “There, you see? You’ve admitted it as well.”
“Just because I don’t know you, doesn’t mean I can’t find you compelling, intriguing, or someone I’d wish to keep at my side for a while.”
“Then you’re judging entirely upon my appearance.”
He knew the look on her face. A frown mixed with furrowed brows that suggested she was about to throw the largest fit known to womankind. At least now he knew she was just the same as any other woman he’d ever known. Manus was good with women.
“Now who’s judging who?” he asked. “Seems like you appeared out of nowhere, soaking wet right to the skin as if you swam all the way out to this isle. If I’m an intelligent man, and I like to think I am, you’re also the one who’s been bringing me food and water. I’ve got a right to call you whatever I want.”
“Why?” She sucked in a deep breath, her hands fisted at her side. “Why does taking care of you give you any right to treat me as you wish?”
“Oh, I never said that. I’ll treat you how you wish, Saoirse, and I intend to do that by starting with an endearment, so you know when I use it I’m focused on you. And only you.”
Manus had seen plenty of beautiful women in his life. He liked to track down the prettiest whore and pay a hefty price for her. But even the most renowned prostitutes in all of Uí Néill couldn’t hold a candle to the mysterious woman who stood in front of him.
Saoirse.
Her name rolled off his tongue like sweet honey and burned his throat like the finest of whiskey. She had kept him safe all this time, saved him from the ship, and why?
Manus watched her fists unclench and waited for the soft sigh he knew she would heave.
“All right,” she murmured. “So be it. If you must find something to call me other than my given name, then I request it be something from the sea.”
“The sea?”
She looked up, catching his gaze with those dark eyes, and stole his soul from him. “The ocean is my mother. Her waves rock me to sleep at night and her will keeps me alive. I would honor her gifts in the way you honored Manannán mac Lir.”
A woman who appreciated the ocean as much as he? Manus thought perhaps mac Lir himself was looking down on him, saw his strife, and sent him a bride that would wipe all others from his memory.
Cheeks red, he cleared his throat. “Ah, well then. That’s much harder to think up.”
“Is that so?”
“The sea is my life. I spent every penny I had getting out here in the first place, but I was one with the ocean the moment my mother first dipped my toes into saltwater. Such endearments have stronger meanings.”
“Precisely why I requested one.”
She had him there. The girl had spunk, something he couldn’t remember any woman other than his mother having.
He was used to simpering smiles and hidden knowledge beneath lids that coyly cloaked true emotion. He was used to women who knew the game between the sexes and played it well.
This woman didn’t seem to know there was such a thing. The ends of her hair shifted in the breeze, already drying from the trip she had made. Manus realized with startling clarity he wanted to know more about her. Everything about her. And he couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.
He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. The cord of his mother’s necklace tangled in his fingers, the tiny white stone bouncing against his chest. “Pearl.”
“What?”
“Pearl, that’s what I’ll call you.”
“Why?”
The vehement way she asked suggested his answer was important. That this was a turning point he could never return from if he got this answer wrong.
“Pearls take a long time to make. Even longer to find.”
She waited to respond, her eyes suggested she thought he might continue.
He didn’t.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Someday I’ll explain it to you, my pearl. But that is not today. What have you brought me for dinner?”
The swift change of subject confused her. She backed away a few steps as he strode forward, stuttering and tripping over her words. “I-I-It’s just a bit of a fish and a few oysters I found—”
“You already know my favorites,” he interrupted. He lifted the food off the gilded plate and inspected the fine craftsmanship. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
“It’s just something to put the food on.”
“Oh, I know that. What I don’t understand is how you found it all the way out here. This should be in a nobleman’s house.” He glanced up at her. “You aren’t a noble, are you?”
“Royalty? Me?” Her jaw snapped shut so fast she didn’t seem able to open it. Instead, she shook her head.
“You’ve got a royal look about you.”
“What?”
“Perfect skin, perfect teeth, not a single callous or blemish on you. The only people who can afford to look like that are royals.”
“I live a different life,” she replied. “I don’t think it’s fair to judge someone because they don’t look like you.”
“Ain’t that the truth. Come here,” he said and patted the sand beside him. “Share dinner with me.”
“Why?”
“I haven’t spoken to anyone but myself in five days. I’d like a little company tonight, if only to save my sanity.”
She hesitated.
Manus wanted to warn her. It wasn’t safe for a woman so painfully beautiful to be alone with a man like him. She should run. That’s what he would have said if he were her father. But he wasn’t, so he smiled like the wolf h
e was and waited for her to sit.
Saoirse sat just out of arm’s reach, her whole body tense as if he might spring at her. He might. He was strung tighter than a drum and he didn’t have a clue why.
She was just a woman. The same as any other. Yet his body wanted her like a dying man wanted water.
He cleared his throat. “What brings you here?”
She did not respond.
“How did you get here? I couldn’t find any land nearby, at least not that my eyes could see. And I don’t see a boat. Did you swim?”
Again, she did not provide him any response.
He plucked at the oyster, pulling at the shell with his fingers even though he knew he would need a knife to eat it. Padding footsteps slapped against the sand and Mac Lir raced towards them. He settled onto the sand and stared at the oyster with such intensity it almost made Manus laugh.
“You want some?” he asked the dog.
“They don’t eat oysters,” Saoirse replied. “It’s not good for them.”
“How do you know that?”
Again, she remained silent. He noted her curled fingers, the way she held tight to the thin fabric of her dress and breathed out a sigh.
“You don’t want to answer any questions about yourself, do you?”
She shook her head.
“I didn’t think so. Smart, that. You don’t know me from the next strange sailor on a ship, and it would be a sad shame for a woman like you to trust too easily.” He grunted, straining to rip open the oyster.
“Here,” she said, holding her hand out for the oyster.
Now what did she think she was going to do with it? If Manus couldn’t get it to open, a slip of a girl wouldn’t be able to.
Curious, he handed it over.
Saoirse ran her fingers along the seams. She didn’t pull, didn’t rip, did nothing other than hum under her breath and stroke the outer shell. It opened a small bit, and she gave a quick yank.
Just like that, he had an oyster to eat.
“Neat trick.”
“Not a trick,” she replied, and handed the sweet meat back to him. “The ocean provides, one need only to ask.”
How many times had he said the exact same thing? Manus tilted his head back and let the salty oyster slide down his throat. It was his favorite delicacy although most sailors never got the opportunity to eat them.
Yet another reason he thought it likely she wasn’t who she said she was. Oysters? Raw fish? A gold plate?
“You saved me from the wreck, didn’t you?”
She averted her eyes.
“You can say it. I know it was you, I remember.”
“Memories can be strange things. Perhaps you only dreamt of me.”
“No, I wouldn’t forget eyes like those. You pulled me out of the abyss, dragged me to this isle, and then brought me food. Who are you?”
Again, she did not provide him any answers. She stared at the waves lapping her toes and remained silent.
“Arturo would love you,” he muttered. “He’d tell me I’m finally getting what I deserve.”
“Who?”
“A friend.” Pain twisted his chest, an ache he knew all too well. Loss never got easier to bear, he just became a harder man. He rubbed his chest. “Gone now, I suppose. He was on the ship with me. A shame, too. He had a wife back home and a new babe.”
“A baby?” she whispered. “That’s so sad.”
“Such is the life of a sailor. We all know the risks that come with our line of work.”
“Your life is so fragile.”
“Everyone’s is. A man can die from a cut on his hand, a cough, a sting of a bee. Why not live a life of adventure? There’s no guarantee life won’t be cut short without it.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” she replied. Her toes curled in the sand. “If you’re always sailing from one adventure to the next without fear of pain or hardship, how are you safe? How do you care for the life you’re living?”
“I care. I care about the experiences, the adventure, the things I’ve seen that no one else has seen.”
“And have you?”
“I’ve seen things that would make your heart race. Strange beasts that shouldn’t exist. Lands so far away the people look entirely different. I’ve brought back furs of animals that are taller than me with claws the size of my hand.”
Her lips parted, eyes locked upon him. “What is it like?”
“Sailing?”
“No. Going wherever you want, whenever you want.”
“Now, that’s a sad thing to hear you ask, my pearl.” He handed another oyster over, silently asking her to open it. “There are men out there who don’t think women should travel. They want to keep them under their thumb, so to speak, and prevent them from experiencing the world. I know it, and I think you know it too.”
She petted the oyster and chewed her lip. “Why do they do that?”
“I think for some, it keeps them powerful. In their minds if they limit the knowledge of their women then they always have the upper hand. But they forget an important thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Women always have the upper hand. You have something we want, and we’ll do anything to get it.”
Saoirse froze, the oyster peeking out to gently touch her finger. Her eyes slanted towards him. “What is it men want?”
“Oh, that’s a loaded question and not one I should be answering.”
“Why not?”
“We’re alone on an isle in the middle of the ocean, and as much as I like to think I’m a good man, I’m not.”
“You seem like a good man.”
“There’s a difference between a good man and a patient one.”
He could see her pulse fluttering in her neck. It called out to him like the song of a siren. She was just as affected as he was.
“I have to go,” she blurted, scrambling to her feet in a flurry of sand and water.
“Where are you going?”
“Away!”
He lunged to his feet, holding out his hands because he didn’t trust himself to touch her. “Will you come back?”
Saoirse froze, her back to him. “I don’t think I could stay away if I wanted to.”
They were exactly the words he wanted to hear. Grinning, he clenched his hands into fists and forced himself to back away from her. “All right then. Go on with you.”
She raced down the sand and disappeared from sight, likely towards some unknown home at the interior of the isle.
Manus licked his lips.
“Patient,” he muttered. “I am so full of shit.”
“Saoirse! Where is your mind today?”
Her sisters gathered all around Saoirse, plucking at the floating strands of her hair. Her family had been a terrible bother lately. It wasn’t unusual for their sister to disappear. She did so regularly, choosing to be alone rather than with them. Why did they think it strange now?
She groaned and jerked her head to the side. “It is here with you.”
“No, it isn’t. We’ve been talking to you for minutes and you’ve been staring at the stone!”
“Perhaps the current topic is one I share no interest in.”
“You’ve always liked the whales, what changed?”
“Nothing.” Saoirse lurched up, propelling herself through the small cave they shared. “Why are you so bothersome today?”
“Why are you so testy?” Her eldest sister giggled. “Is it because father has decided you shall marry?”
Another sister pretended to swoon. “Has our youngest sister already chosen her groom?”
“How could I?” Saoirse shook her head at their antics. “There is not one merrow man in the entire ocean who could capture my attention.”
“That’s a shame, considering you are also a merrow.”
“Can you willingly say there is one you like?”
“Craig has an interesting look.”
“Craig?” Saoirse swallowed. “He has
a heavy hand. One that likes to find its way towards innocent creatures.”
“Oh, that’s just a rumor.”
It wasn’t. Saoirse had seen it herself when she was coming home from gathering crabs for dinner. He had backed a woman into a crevice, speaking in low tones and lifting his fist. The look of terror on the merrow’s face would stay with her for the rest of her life.
She shivered. “I would rather not tempt fate.”
“I think she’s found a man,” one of her sisters giggled. “That’s where she’s been sneaking off to!”
Perhaps it was easier to let them think so. They could question it all they liked, but Saoirse was planning her escape. There were only a few more weeks until the full moon. Her father was already pressing her to give an answer, but she persisted that he had given her a fair amount of time.
If her plan worked, she would be long gone before then.
“Please,” she clasped her hands, “don’t tell Athair. I don’t want him to know. It would be best if it were a surprise.”
“Go on then, sister. But when you return, promise you'll tell us who it is?”
She shook her head and launched herself out of the cave mouth. They would never know who it was. And they would remain the only thing she regretted about this entire foolish plan.
Her sisters were as much a part of her as her gills. They might be foolish creatures, vain and sometimes silly, but they had hearts the size of the seven seas. She didn’t want to see anything evil change that.
She shook her head and flexed her tail. Now was not the time to be thinking such morose thoughts. She still had to figure out how to get the human off the isle.
Jellyfish slid past, trailing their long tendrils against her skin. The faint electric sting made her muscles twitch. The larger ones posed a threat even to merrows. She grinned and batted one away. The small ones were kinder than their brethren.
Her smile faded. She supposed she could say the same about merrows and their kin. The guardians weren’t likely to let her human leave any time soon. Even with her on a ship, they would want to tear it apart for trespassing.
Could she stop them? Was it even possible to reason with a guardian?
She had never tried. As far as Saoirse knew, no one had ever tried. They let the giants do as they pleased and were glad their homes were safe.
