Fergus snorted. “If you do not have any Mermen, how would you get more Mermaids, eh? As for made up, well, maybe they are, and maybe they are not.” His grin grew wider, and the boy matched it with one of his own.
“If you’re a Merman, how come you don’t have a tail?” he asked.
“Because then your friend Marcus might mistake me for a big fish and bring me in to market,” Fergus said with a laugh. “I do not think I would like that.”
“I’m finding something fishy about this whole story,” Marcus said, but he was smiling too. “You’re as bad as my da with the ridiculous fairy-tale nonsense. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” He turned to Beka and Fergus. “I gave the guys the day off, since we were just going out for a few hours so you can dive. Can you give me a hand casting off?”
Tito gave Fergus one more admiring look and trailed Marcus up to the front cabin. The other two started releasing the ropes that kept the ship attached to the dock.
“Really?” Beka said under her breath to Fergus. “A Merman from an undersea kingdom?”
Fergus winked, eyes twinkling in multiple shades of green like the changeable ocean. “He did not believe me, did he?” He coiled the last rope neatly and used a gaff to push the boat away from the old wooden dock. “And it made him smile. I think this is a good thing.”
Beka sighed. She hoped the boy was winning his battle, but either way, she was all in favor of giving him a great day out on the water if that’s what made him happy. The fact that Marcus was going out of his way to help the kid made her see him in a different way. Maybe he wasn’t such a grumpy pain in the butt after all.
Of course, that might mean he was only that way around her, which was kind of a drag. But considering that when he’d met her, she’d just sliced a big hole in his net and let all his fish get away, and then followed that up by bribing his father to let her use the boat when Marcus didn’t want her to, she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised he wasn’t all that pleased to have her around. Maybe she should have baked him cookies or something. Or had Chewie bake them . . . she sucked in the kitchen.
Once at the dive site, Marcus stopped the engines and he and Tito came back to watch Beka and Fergus put on their wet suits and double-check Beka’s tanks. They double-checked Fergus’s gear, too, even though they’d both done so before they’d gotten on the boat. You couldn’t be too careful when you were diving. If Beka got into trouble, Fergus had to be ready to jump into the water at a moment’s notice; even a five-minute delay could be fatal. Of course, as a Merman, he didn’t really need any gear, and Beka wasn’t all that likely to get into trouble she couldn’t handle, but still, when there were witnesses, it was best to go through the motions.
“Wow,” Tito said, bouncing up and down on his toes. “That looks so cool. Are you going to find pirate treasure down there?”
Beka and Fergus exchanged looks. Of course, the supposed sunken wreck she was going after didn’t exist. Or rather, there was a theoretical ship that had been lost in that area many years ago, but she had no real expectation of finding anything from it—she wasn’t even looking. But seeing the expression on Tito’s too-thin face, she was suddenly determined to bring up something a twelve-year-old boy would find exciting.
Marcus raised a quizzical eyebrow. He’d seen her hauling up small bags, but he had no way of knowing she’d been collecting specimens instead of booty.
Crap. Where the heck was she supposed to find treasure?
“Well, not exactly,” Beka said cautiously. “I’m following up on a legend about a Spanish ship that was sunk by pirates, though, and there was supposed to be a lot of gold on board. So you never know. All I’ve found so far are bits and pieces that might turn out to be something.”
Marcus rolled his eyes. “Don’t get your hopes up, Tito, my man. We’re a lot more likely to catch a nice tuna to take home to your mom than Beka is to magically stumble on some pieces of eight.”
Oh, bite me, Mr. Crabbypants. With a smile at Tito and a glare for Marcus, Beka lowered herself into the effervescent waves of the welcoming sea. She was going to bring back something cool for that boy if she had to swim back to shore to get it.
* * *
MARCUS STIFLED A laugh at the expression on Beka’s easy-to-read face. She might be a slightly delusional hippie nutcase, but at least she was an open book—exactly what she appeared to be. Everything she thought was written across her lovely countenance for all to see. Especially when she was pissed at him, which was most of the time.
He couldn’t really blame her; he’d been so angry at her in the beginning, when she’d pulled that idiotic stunt with the net and then taken advantage of his father’s weakened state and empty bank account to get the old man to allow her back on the boat. She still made Marcus crazy most of the time, but he had to admit—to himself, if not to her—part of that was because he couldn’t seem to shake the unreasonable attraction he felt whenever she was near. At least if he kept her at a distance, he’d never have to worry about anything foolish happening between them.
Besides, she was just so much fun to tease. He loved watching her narrow her gorgeous blue eyes at him, as if her glare could magically turn him into a toad with its icy sapphire defiance. He shouldn’t have made fun of her lack of progress, though; he’d peeked into one of her bags a couple of days ago, and it had been filled with scraps of seaweed and a dead anemone. Not exactly the treasure she’d been seeking. She’d probably just brought up something so she wouldn’t look bad in front of him and the crew. Unless she really was crazy. With that girl, it was hard to tell.
Still, she was being damned nice to Tito, which made up for a lot of crazy in Marcus’s book. Both she and Fergus were patiently answering the boy’s endless questions about their gear, how a dive worked, why it took two of them, and, of course, pirates.
“Can I try diving?” Tito asked Beka. His eager face glowed with admiration as he gazed at the statuesque blonde in her formfitting wet suit. Marcus didn’t blame him for that, but he held his breath as he waited for Beka to make a promise he wouldn’t be able to let her keep. There was no way a sick, inexperienced boy was going to dive off this boat.
But he needn’t have worried. “Sorry, dude,” she said, shaking her head. “Divers train for a long time before they ever do the kind of thing Fergus and I are doing.” One slim finger tapped petal pink lips. “Can you swim pretty well?”
Tito nodded. “Sure.”
“Then maybe someday you and I can go snorkeling instead. We can do that in relatively shallow water, where it won’t be so cold and we’ll only stay in for a little while, so you don’t get overtired.” She gave him a mock-stern look, a weak second cousin to the fierce glower she usually aimed at Marcus. “As long as your mother says it is okay, that is.”
Tito grinned, his teeth gleaming white in his dark face. “Marcus, too, right?”
Marcus and Beka exchanged glances, and she fought to cover a grimace. “I guess so,” she said reluctantly. Marcus coughed to cover his snort of laughter. Clearly, she hadn’t thought that one through. Typical. Good intentions, but not much planning. Beautiful, sexy, and kind . . . but still a flake.
Too bad, because he found the first three traits amazingly appealing. But nothing on this planet would make him put up with the last one.
Once Beka was in the water, he and Tito did some fishing off the opposite side of the boat. Unfortunately, as with so many other occasions of late, the fish just weren’t there. It was as if something unseen had driven them all away. Marcus took it as a personal slight, especially on a day when he had promised a seriously ill boy a treat.
Tito didn’t seem to mind, but Marcus nearly bit Beka’s head off when she finished up and came over to ask them cheerfully, “So, how was the fishing?”
“Lousy,” he growled, then tried to paste a less disgruntled look on his face when Tito blinked up at him in surprise. “How was the treasure hunting?”
Beka shrugged one tanned shoulder, re
vealed now that she’d unzipped her wet suit down to her slim waist. The simple white one-piece suit underneath was as alluring on her as a more provocative bikini might be on any other woman, and he had to force himself to drag his eyes back up to her face. Where he was fairly sure he saw a twinkle in the azure depths as she caught him staring.
“Nothing very interesting, I’m afraid. Too bad about the fishing though.” She got a thoughtful look. “Why don’t you keep at it for a few minutes?” she suggested. “I think Fergus wanted to take a quick dive before we go, anyway.”
“Please, Marcus, just a little while longer,” Tito begged. Marcus didn’t have the heart to say no, although he didn’t see what difference another half an hour would make. Still, the boy had more animation than Marcus had ever seen before, and the ashy undertone to his skin was less obvious than usual. Clearly, being out on the water agreed with him.
Marcus had a sudden yearning to make this kind of outing possible for other sick kids; a morning out in the fresh air in the midst of the soothing waters of the bay, with dolphins occasionally coming to frolic alongside the boat, far from the acrid medicinal scents and bleak beige realities of the all-too-necessary hospital.
He snorted under his breath at his own foolishness; he was getting as bad as Beka. It wasn’t as though he was going to stick around long enough to get involved with something like that, even if he wanted to take on the responsibility. Which he didn’t. Just thinking about all the things that could go wrong made his gut clench, like back when he had men to protect from flying bullets and roadside ambushes.
A glance toward the port side of the boat showed him an unwanted glimpse of Beka and Fergus, their blond and red heads close together as they whispered about something that made Beka flash that sunshine smile that was so rarely aimed at him. He turned back to answer one of Tito’s never-ending questions, and a splash told him that Fergus must have gone into the water.
“Be right back,” he said to the kid, and wandered casually over to where Beka was standing, looking over the side of the boat.
“Thanks,” he said, gruffly, not used to having any conversation with her that wasn’t an argument of some kind. “For being so nice to Tito, I mean. I know he was probably annoying you with all the ‘How come you have to wear a special outfit?’ and ‘Do the fish nibble on your toes?’”
Beka laughed, a sound as silvery as a salmon’s flashing belly. “He’s great, Marcus. And I think you’re really sweet for bringing him out here. All those questions just mean he’s thinking, and that’s never a bad thing. I didn’t mind at all.”
Sweet. Nobody had called him sweet in . . . well, maybe never. He was a lot of things: loyal, tough, dependable—but sweet? Hardly. Marcus could feel a flush spread over his cheekbones. She thought he was sweet. He didn’t know whether to be flattered or appalled.
He was about to answer, probably with a sentence that was both stupid and clumsily polite, when he noticed something odd: Fergus’s gear, including his neatly folded wet suit and carefully checked air tanks, sitting next to Beka’s tanks on the damp deck. Marcus glanced around; no Fergus. What the hell?
His mouth was opened to ask her about it when a panicked yell from Tito had him sprinting across the boat instead, his heart beating almost as rapidly as his pounding footsteps.
“Marcus! Marcus!” Tito yelled as he wrestled with a fishing pole that was suddenly bent almost double as it dipped down toward the water. “I think I caught a fish! What do I do now?”
Beka had followed him over at a slightly more sedate pace. “Way to go, Tito!” She gave a tiny shake of her head as Marcus moved to grab the pole away from the boy. “You can do it!”
Taking the hint, Marcus stood behind Tito and put one hand on the pole to take some of the pressure off, and used his other hand to steady Tito as he hauled mightily on the rod.
“That’s it,” Marcus said. “You’ve got it. Keep reeling in. Slow and steady. Pull up on the rod, then reel in a little more. You’re doing great.”
Beka grabbed the hand net and had it ready to slide under the wriggling pumpkin orange fish as the guys worked together to heave it over the side of the boat. Tito was beside himself with joy, jumping up and down and whooping as Marcus gently removed the hook from the fish’s mouth.
“That’s one of the best looking cod I’ve ever seen,” Marcus said. The thing was longer than Tito’s arm. “That’s going to make one heck of a dinner, kiddo.”
Marcus laid the fish out on the deck and started to clean it, only glancing up briefly as Fergus climbed back on board and stood dripping to receive a high five from Beka. The former Marine shook his head in bafflement. There was definitely something odd going on here, but damned if he could figure it out.
“Nice cod,” Fergus said, padding over to stand next to him. “Beka said the boy is pleased. That is good.”
“Yeah, it is,” Marcus said, peering up at the other man suspiciously. “You wouldn’t happen to know how a fish miraculously appeared as soon as you went for your little swim, would you?”
Fergus just smiled, showing teeth that looked slightly pointed in the glare of the bright midday light. “The boy is happy, yes? This is what matters.”
Marcus shook his head. He was clearly losing his mind. What did he think the other man was, some kind of fish whisperer?
“Right.” Marcus put the cleaned fish on ice. “I guess we might as well head in now.” He hesitated, thinking about how terrific Beka—and Fergus, of course—had been with Tito.
“You know, Tito’s mom said she was working until late. I was just going to drop him off with his grandmother. Maybe we could all go back to dock and then I could cook some of this nice fish up for dinner?” He was talking to Fergus, but his eyes kept straying to a glowing Beka as she chatted with Tito, who was reenacting the entire fish-catching adventure, complete with exaggerated hand gestures.
Fergus shrugged, what looked like genuine regret on his face. “That sounds very pleasant, and I am quite fond of cod. But I am afraid that Beka already has other plans.”
“Other plans?” Marcus asked. A cloud seemed to blot out the sun.
“Indeed,” Fergus said, obviously unaware of the effect of his words. “I believe she has a date.”
“A date,” Marcus repeated. Of course she had a date. She was a beautiful, fun-loving woman. Of course men asked her out. Not men like him, of course. But still, it was absurd for him to be so shocked. “Probably with some surfer or hippie New Age tree hugger.”
Fergus gave him a blank look from under red brows. “Why would anyone hug a tree?” He gazed from Marcus to Beka and back again, and comprehension spilled into his eyes, along with a sympathetic look that Marcus chose to ignore. “And yes, she told me they met while surfing. They seem to have much in common.”
Of course they did. Marcus stifled a sigh and resisted the impulse to throw the ice chest into the sea. And he and Beka had nothing in common at all. What the hell had he been thinking?
TEN
BEKA GAZED AT the food spread out on the blanket in front of her and blinked rapidly a couple of times, a mystified look on her face. “When you said a picnic on the beach, this isn’t quite what I envisioned.”
Kesh surveyed the feast he’d assembled, awash with smug satisfaction. Smoked salmon, oysters, caviar, chilled lobster—all the glorious gifts of the sea, along with a few more landlocked pleasures, including a couple of bottles of expensive champagne. He was a prince of the Selkies; he knew how to dazzle a woman. And Human women were especially easy to dazzle. If the Irish accent and suave good looks didn’t get them, flattery and charm would. The Baba Yagas might be the most powerful witches on the planet, but they were still, on some level, just Human women. In the beginning, anyway. And this Baba Yaga was still very young.
“Only the very best is good enough for such a beautiful, gracious creature as yourself,” Kesh said with a flourishing bow. He could feel her falling under his spell already.
Beka gave him a cu
rved crescent of a smile that seemed more amused than awed, the expression on her face hidden momentarily by the silken fall of her loose blond hair. “I’m afraid I’m a bit underdressed,” she said, waving a hand to indicate her simple but colorful batik wraparound skirt and red scoop-necked tank top. “If I’d known we were dining at the Ritz, I would have worn my diamonds.”
Taken aback for a moment, Kesh rebounded by pouring her a crystal goblet full of effervescent nirvana. “You look lovely no matter what you wear, Baba Yaga. And I would be happy to adorn you with the pearls of a thousand oysters, if you but say the word.”
Beka choked a little on her champagne. “Goodness. Do those kinds of lines usually work for you?” The twinkle in her eyes took the sting out of her words.
He gave her a rueful grin. “They do indeed, darlin’, but I fear that my attempt has failed to impress you. For that I am sorry. I have no wish to offend.”
She laughed, helping herself to a cracker heaped with caviar. “Oh, I’m impressed, Kesh. This is a delightfully over-the-top picnic, and I intend to enjoy every bite. But you can save the flowery sentiments for someone they’re better suited to. I’m not a ‘pearls of a thousand oysters’ kind of girl.”
Kesh studied her in the moonlight, rethinking his original approach to wooing her. She truly was lovely, her golden hair shimmering almost silver in the moon’s enchanted light as she lounged across from him on the raw silk blanket. It would be a shame to have to kill her. He would just have to take a slightly subtler tack.
“Tell me,” he said, gazing intently at her over the rim of his glass, “how goes the search for the solution to my people’s problem?”
Her relaxed posture tensed, legs pulled in and tucked under her skirt, shoulders hunching as she hugged her knees. “Not all that well, I’m afraid. There still isn’t anything obvious that I can see.”
Pouring more wine into her goblet, Kesh favored her with his most sympathetic look. “Oh? That is a pity. And all those Merpeople and Selkies depending on you.” He shook his head. “You have no idea what is poisoning the water?”
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