by Emma Hamm
“Blasted idiots,” he grumbled.
Money was the one thing he knew he needed. Manus had to go back out onto the sea. He had to answer the call deep in his chest that already ached, no matter how close to the ocean he lived.
And then there was the added complication of a dark-haired woman with skin like moonlight. She haunted his dreams and now bled into his waking life.
The morning last, he woke and was certain she was at his bedside. Manus could feel the silken strands of her hair wrapped through his fingers. She smiled down at him in that crooked way which was the only flaw to her perfection. And then she disappeared from sight, faded like the mirage she was.
He sighed and blew out the match which burned dangerously close to his fingertips. There was an ocean between them, and it was unlikely he’d ever be able to find her again.
“Let it go,” he reminded himself. “She isn’t here, you fool. And she never will be.”
“Manus!”
The sound was so quiet, he almost didn’t hear it. The voice was like that of a song.
“Saoirse?” he whispered, turning towards the door. “No. You’re dreaming, man. Let the memories go or you’ll drive yourself mad.”
He sat down on the end of the bed and tugged his boots off, so he wouldn't chase the siren calling his name. His movements were so harsh that his toes cracked. Each heavy crack of boots striking the floor reminded him he was here. In a cabin by the sea. Not on an isle where the most beautiful of women lay in pure white sand…
“Stop it,” he growled.
His leg bounced and finally he gave in. Berating himself the whole way, he lit the candle in his lantern, opened the door, and lifted it high.
“Hello? Who goes there!”
For a second, he thought he imagined it all. There was no one near his door, not close enough to make a sound.
Then he saw the shadow at the end of the dock. It moved so quickly he might have imagined it, but Manus heard the answering splash. Someone was on the end of his dock. Hiding.
“You there! On the dock!”
He would not abide a child lingering in the shadows, or any thief who thought to sneak in and grab the rest of his money. Barefoot and furious, he stomped down the thick, muddy shore and stepped onto the dock.
“I know you’re here. I saw you. It’s no use hiding.”
They would be at the end, likely holding onto the thick posts for dear life. Swimming at night was a dangerous thing!
Manus set the lantern on the end of the dock, leaned over the edge, and stared down into the empty space. No one was there.
“What the bloody hell…”
Something scraped underneath the dock. Quiet and subtle, he might not have noticed the sound if he hadn’t been listening so intently. He furrowed his brow, leaned over the dock further, and stared into the water.
His heart stopped. Saoirse's face appeared, lit by moonlight that stroked the planes of her cheeks. She lay on the bottom with tendrils of her dark hair spread out around her in an inky cloud. Her black eyes were wide with shock, and, he hoped, a little with pleasure at seeing him again.
Slowly, he reached out a hand towards the waves.
Saoirse shifted, and her hair slicked back as she floated to the surface. Rivulets of water trailed down her face, tiny pearl drops that traced the beloved features he longed to touch.
She reached out a hand and met his fingers with her own.
“It’s you,” he whispered. “How is this possible?”
“I came a long way.”
“How did you get away from them?”
“It’s a long story,” she said and licked her lips. “You weren’t easy to find.”
“We’re very far away from your homeland.”
“It’s a strange place. I am not used to such rocky shores, and everything is very loud.”
“Are you staying?”
“If you wish it.”
He recognized the hopeful expression on her face, and it nearly crippled him. She thought so highly of him, of the street rat who bought his way onto ships because no one would even hire him as a sailor. And she looked at him as though he hung the moon in the sky, just for her.
It unnerved him.
“You can stay as long as you wish,” he blurted.
Because, no matter how much she thought he was a good man, he wasn’t. He would put her in his cabin which was falling apart at the seams just so he could have her. He wasn’t worthy of her attentions, but he would be damned if he gave her up.
“Do you want me to stay?” she asked again. “I have traveled across the sea to find you, but I will not linger if you do not wish it.”
“How could I wish for anything else? I have dreamt of you every night, my pearl. I’m not convinced this isn’t still a dream.”
Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of red. “Then help me out of the water, Manus. My family has likely realized where I have gone by now, and I would like to be safe.”
“And dry.”
“For now.”
Manus pressed his chest against the dock and held out his arms. She pulled herself part of the way while he heaved her up and into his waiting arms. There were easier ways of doing it, but none that would keep her clean of mud nor safe from the scrape of rock.
He palmed the back of her head with a happy sigh and pressed her against the crook of his neck. She was wet and cold, with her hair plastered against her back all the way to her knees, and he couldn’t have been a happier man.
It felt as though he had waited a lifetime to have her in his arms again.
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” he murmured against her head. “It’s what one of my dear friends used to say. He’d go off sailing and miss his wife something fierce after just a few days. Said when he saw her again, it was like the first day they met.”
“I believe your friend is right.”
She shivered violently, her entire body shaking in his arms. He rubbed her arms briskly.
“Come inside. I’ll set you by the fire and give you something to wear.”
“To wear?” She pulled back and looked up at him. “Will you put me in the clothing of your women here? It looks terribly uncomfortable.”
“What, a corset?” Manus chuckled. “I’m afraid I don’t have many of those lying around.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t live with women.”
“I suppose that makes sense.”
He tucked her underneath his arm and guided her towards his home. Would she be disappointed? He had no idea what kind of home she lived in before.
“What are merrow homes like?” he asked.
“Not like this,” she said, staring at his cabin with wide eyes. “We live mostly in caves. Merrows try to decorate them as much as possible. My mother has strands of pearls strung up across the entryway to her home, seashells affixed to the walls, jellyfish casting light in the dark shadows. But this is so much more than that.”
He tried to see the cabin through her eyes but failed. It was a shack. Broken walls, no windows, nothing but ruin covered in mud from the sea.
“More?” he asked. “I’m afraid I don’t see what you do, my pearl.”
“How could you not? Look at the way the light dances off the wood! And it’s not water logged and soft, but strong and whole. Pieces of the trees that grow here so abundantly it makes tears raise in my eyes.” She swiped at her cheeks. “Tears, Manus. I couldn’t cry where I come from, and here I can. I hope you don’t mind tears; they may be rather frequent.”
“I only mind if they are tears of sadness.” He squeezed her against his side. “Tears of happiness I could get used to.”
A woman at his side. When had his life changed so drastically? Arturo must be rolling in his deep sea grave, laughing at his dearest friend who had so recently said he would never take a wife.
A wife.
The words danced through Manus’s head until he could think of nothing else. He wanted a wife.
; Saoirse wasn’t going anywhere, that much he knew for certain. He had lost her once, and he'd be damned if he would do it again. No one could know she was a merrow and therein lay a problem. A woman living with a man without the bonds of marriage was sacrilege.
They would have to get married.
He stared down at her with equal horror and awe. Her bare feet squelched in the mud, leaving tiny footprints next to his large ones. So tiny. So perfect.
The moonlight danced over her bare shoulders and trailed down the smooth skin of her arms. Strands of hair covered most of her nakedness but left little to the imagination. He had seen her like this before but now it felt somehow more.
He opened the creaking door and let her step through into the dimly lit shack.
“Oh Manus,” she breathed. “It’s lovely.”
The face he made wasn’t gentlemanly, but he’d never pretended to be one. She had a strange way of thinking. Saoirse deserved so much more than a ramshackle cabin by the ocean. She deserved a castle, a stately manor overlooking the sea where she could still be close to the place they both loved.
But he was wandering off into dreams which could never come true.
“Is that so,” he said.
“Well, just look at it! You must live like a king.”
“A what?”
She pressed her hands to her chest and stepped towards the fireplace. “What is this?”
“A fireplace.”
“What do you use it for?”
“To heat the place.”
“With what?”
The sheer pleasure on her face made him pause. He had forgotten she spent her entire life underneath the ocean. Everything must be new to her. From fireplaces, to beds, to… his world spun. She’d have to be taught everything.
“Look at me gathering wool," he grunted. "Step aside, my pearl. You'll shiver out of your skin if I don’t warm you up sooner rather than later.”
“I’m used to the sea, Manus. I’m quite all right.”
“There’s a shirt on the bed over there. Cover yourself.”
“Bed?”
He gestured. “That. The white fabric, pull it over your head.”
“All right.”
Manus stuffed the fireplace with what little dry wood he had gathered in the few weeks he’d been home. Tinder on the bottom mixed with peat would fill the cabin with a sweet scent he always missed on the sea.
He much preferred peat to heat the home, but it was expensive. It burned far longer than wood and that made it a commodity in this area.
The last match struck, flared bright, and burst the small pile he’d made into flames. Manus held out his hands so the warmth could dance on his palms.
“I think I'm finished!” Happiness bubbled in her voice.
He glanced over his shoulder, a wide grin spreading over his face even before he saw the muddled mess she’d made of his shirt. The sleeves somehow locked her arms against her sides, the fabric was inside out and backwards. But she looked so damned proud of herself.
“Well, you’ve certainly tried.” His knees creaked as he stood and made his way over to her. “But I’m afraid this is all wrong.”
“You didn’t tell me there was a right way to do it.”
“You should be able to use your arms, Saoirse.” He tugged on the sleeves, pulling them away from her torso and twisting the fabric. “I don’t know how you’ve done this. It has to come off, Saoirse. We’ll start again.”
“It can’t be that horrendous.”
“My dear, I have never seen someone make such a mess of something like a shirt.”
He fisted the ends of the shirt and tugged it up over her head.
He lost all the breath in his lungs. This was far different from seeing her on the isle, or even rising out of the ocean like some kind of sea goddess. This was a real woman, standing in the middle of his shack, with nothing but the drying strands of her hair covering a body he intensely longed for.
The peaks of his cheeks heated bright red. He told himself to calm his thoughts. She was little more than a child in this world, didn’t even know how to put a shirt on the right way, let alone understand the workings of the world.
And hadn’t he realized that on the isle? Saoirse sat too close to him, asked him questions he couldn’t answer, cared little for the propriety of things.
“Manus?” Her quiet murmur caught his attention.
“Yes?”
“Well it’s just…. I worry things might be different. I understand that you may not have wished for me to come. You left rather quickly, and I know my people can be frightening. But I had hoped you might have missed me.”
“You’re rather forward.”
“I travelled across the seas to find you, Manus. I think I’m afforded that.”
“What did you think would happen, my pearl? I cannot read your mind.”
She tilted her head back and a dark green lock of hair slid over her shoulder like a dancer in some fancy ballet. “I thought at the very least I might get a kiss.”
“A kiss?”
“Is that also forward?”
It was too much. Far more than any woman would ever say in the company of men.
He thanked the heavens that no mortal had ever tempted him, for god had gifted him a woman from the sea who cared little for propriety. She cared for him, although he couldn’t understand why, and she let nothing stand in the way of that. Not her family. Not the ocean. Not the world itself, for she had travelled across it.
Manus didn’t know what god he needed to thank, but he would never forget their kindness.
In a great surge of movement, he yanked her against him and pressed his mouth against hers. She tasted like the sweetest treasures of the sea. Her lips were the softest touch of the tide, and her arms were the gentle grasp of the one being he’d loved his entire life.
A flush of heat spread from the top of his head to the base of his spine. She took all his sense and threw it to the wind, scattering his mind until he was little more than a mess of sensations.
She was so soft, every inch of her body like fine velvet. He flexed his hands on her back and tried to remind himself not to grab her too forcefully. The tiny waist beneath his fingers might bruise, the fragile ribs might break, and he would not leave marks upon her flesh.
His fingers flexed again, and he marveled at the hold she had on him. Somehow, someway, she had completely destroyed his reason.
Manus drew back when they were both breathless and pressed his forehead against hers.
“Marry me,” he declared. “Tomorrow, tonight, whenever we might wake a vicar.”
“What?”
“Marry me. Please, Saoirse. My life was not the same with you gone, and I wish to never be parted from you again.”
“Do you mean it? Now?”
“You have the power to make me the happiest man in the world. My wife straight from the sea.”
“How could I say no?”
A surge of elation nearly lifted him off his feet. “Do you mean it?”
“Only if you will kiss me again and again, for the rest of our lives.”
“I can promise much more than that,” he said, grunting as he lifted her up into his arms so she was eye to eye with him. “A bride of the sea. How did I ever catch you, my pearl?”
“I didn’t see a net when I came here. Not one that was yours.”
“Your point?”
“You didn’t catch me, Manus.” She traced a line from his eyebrow to his lips. “I threw myself onto the shore so you might find me.”
“And I did, my pearl. I did.”
“Saoirse, it’s time to wake up.”
She snuggled deeper into the warmth that surrounded her. She felt weightless, as if she still floated in the ocean, but it was so warm. The ocean was cold, chilly, sometimes unforgiving in the way it would bite at her skin. This was like sleeping on a cloud.
The most pleasant scent filled her nostrils. Caramel and something raw and earthy, like toba
cco, although she’d only smelled it once in her life. Saoirse never wanted to leave this heaven on earth.
“Saoirse, get up. Or have you changed your mind on marrying me?”
“What?” she murmured. “No, I could never change my mind about that.”
“I found a vicar. It’s very early in the morning, but he was inspired by our romantic tale, so get up.”
“What is a vicar?”
“The man who’ll marry us.”
“Aren’t we already married? Faeries are not so picky. We’ve said we want to marry each other, and that is enough.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” Manus said with a chuckle. “I even found you a wedding dress.”
“A dress?” Saoirse sat straight up, nearly cracking her head on his chin. “What do you mean you got me a dress?”
He pointed towards the foot of the bed, and Saoirse let out a startled gasp so loud she had to cover her mouth. The thing placed at her feet was not like the others she’d seen at the bottom of the sea. The fabric was entirely intact, so delicate it looked as though it were made of sea foam. Lace fell in waves from the neckline and no sleeves would hide her arms.
“Oh, Manus.” Tears pricked her eyes. “It’s beautiful.”
“You seem to think everything is beautiful. It’s only half finished, so I got it at a good price. But I figured you wouldn’t mind.”
“Half finished? What glorious things must this artist create?” She reached out and stroked it with a tentative hand. “It looks like it’s made of magic.”
“Have you never seen faerie dresses before? I imagine they’re much more glorious than this.”
“Merrows don’t leave the ocean and my father would never let us visit the Seelie Fae. This is the first real dress I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m glad you like it then.”
Like it? She would wear the sea; how could she not be instantly in love with the dress he had gotten for her?
She dragged the fabric across the bed and pressed it to her chest. The lace itched her bare skin where the shirt he loaned her dipped below her shoulder. Still, she refused to let it make her think ill of the beautiful thing. Perhaps it would feel better on.