by Emma Hamm
“It’s quite beautiful.”
“Beautiful? There are better words that than Saoirse! Magnificent! A feast for the eyes!” He flung his arms out and laughed. “And it’s ours. You made this happen, my pearl. I cannot thank you enough.”
She made nothing happen. She had stolen from a bean sídhe who didn’t need the money any more than they did. Guilt ate at her belly, taking large chunks with each inhale.
“Manus, I think I’d like to go lie down.”
“Wait, hold on.” He grabbed her arms and held her at arm’s length. “I didn’t tell you we’ve hired staff.”
“Staff?” Saoirse wrinkled her brows. “What do you mean?”
“People who will work for us. They’ll clean the house, manage the gardens, the grounds, everything we need. They’ll do it all.”
He sounded so excited.
She sighed. “Why do we need people to do all that? We can manage on our own. We have thus far.”
“It’s not how things are done. I know this is confusing for you, and likely overwhelming. You’ll get used to it. I promise.” He kissed her forehead, lingering for a few moments. “Now, go on. There’s a maid waiting in your room. She’ll help you get dressed.”
“I want to get undressed.”
“That’s something I can help you with.” A wolfish grin spread across his face.
“Manus.”
“You’re right, I have too much to do for such distractions. Go upstairs, I’ll see you later tonight.”
He spun on his heel and walked out the front door, whistling a jaunty tune.
Saoirse wished she was as happy. The large house felt so empty. The rooms echoed with her steps, so much that she stayed barefoot just for the silence. Statues lined the halls, staring at her with disappointed expressions and vacant eyes.
Now there were more people here? More strangers to wonder where she came from, to pry into her past. She couldn’t keep twisting her words and smiling while Manus explained where she came from. Eventually someone would catch her alone, and she wouldn’t be able to lie.
Troubled, she made her way up the grand staircase and down the long hallway towards her rooms. She had insisted she only needed one room. Apparently, that was also not done.
Even the doors were different here. Hers had tiny bluebells carved all around it, hand painted and laid with gold leaves.
She paused in front of it and shook her head. It was all too much.
The door opened to reveal another person standing behind it. Saoirse shrieked in surprise, and the other woman let out a gasp, dropping all the clothes in her arms.
“My lady!”
“Who are you?”
The woman ran a hand over her blonde hair and smoothed down her pale dress. “I’m your lady’s maid. I thought the master might have told you?”
“Master?”
Saoirse shook her head. Everything was changing, and she didn’t know how to feel about it.
The maid blushed. “I’m sorry, did he not inform you I would be here?"
“No, he informed me. I’m just not used to having a lady’s maid.”
“I can’t imagine why not? If the tales are true, you’re some far off princess. It’s an honor to be waiting on you, my lady.”
Princess? Was that what he was telling people now? How was she even meant to respond to that?
Saoirse shook her head and made her way towards the bed. “I would like to rest.”
“Of course. Here, allow me to turn down the covers for you. It’s rather chilly outside, I can run the coals through the sheets to warm them.”
“Please don’t. I’ll be fine on my own.”
“That’s what I was hired to do, my lady. Here, let me help with your dress—”
Saoirse couldn’t handle this. She couldn’t allow another woman to wait on her hand and foot, not while she still had perfectly good hands. “Please. That’s enough.”
The maid bobbed into a quick curtsy and turned to leave. She hesitated and said, “I appreciate you and Manus hiring me out of the whorehouse. There are some places where the women are treated well, but that was not one of them. This gives me a fresh start.”
She disappeared out the door, running as if the Wild Hunt chased her.
Saoirse sank onto the bed. Her bones ached, her heart squeezed, and she felt as though she were ancient. This wasn’t the life she had expected. And although there were moments of blooming happiness, there was also a constant river of anguish.
Falling onto her back, she sighed.
This was what her life was supposed to be like, or at least, what her human life should be. She had money, she had a home, she had a doting husband. What more could she want?
All she could think of was a tiny isle with white sand.
Pretending To Be Human
Saoirse hovered in the back of the room, clutching a wine glass close to her chest. There were so many people in their home.
Teems of men and women had shown up at the announcement new money had arrived. Already she’d been told their cliff side home was the beloved summer house of a renowned Baron. When his wife had died, he sold the entire plot when his grief grew too powerful for him to survive.
They were saddened by the passing of the Baron and thought it likely his son would wish to buy this land back. Would they be interested in selling?
She’d never met so many rude, noisy people in her life. They flooded into her home, told her how she should look, act, dress, and then swanned off as if they hadn’t been insulting.
Finally, Saoirse gave up. She tucked herself into a corner with a glass of port and silently nodded at anyone who tried to speak with her. Let them think she was an uncouth princess, they wouldn’t dare start any rumors.
They still thought she was royalty. And apparently that meant more than the quality of her character.
Manus was on the other side of the room talking to a tall man with billowing white hair. They gestured wildly, laughing and swinging their drinks in all directions. It was going well, so it seemed, although Saoirse had no idea who the man was.
She didn’t know any of these people, yet she was expected to admit them into her life without complaint.
The port swirled on her tongue, coating her mouth with a heady flavor that calmed her nerves.
“I thought I might find you here.” The voice was warm, too forward for any of these strange people who had walked into her life.
She swallowed and glanced up at the tall, red headed man standing beside her. “I didn't think to find you here.”
“Is it so surprising?” He grinned. “I am, after all, a prince.”
He had more of a calling to the title than she did. Declan was dressed as a man of his stature should dress. Tight fitting waistcloth, pale doeskin breeches, a black jacket that barely contained the broad span of his shoulders. Even in the clothes of a noble, he looked more wild animal than most.
“So,” she began, “you masquerade as a noble here on earth? Isn’t that beside the point?”
“What point?”
“I assume you were sent here to learn a small bit of humility. How are you supposed to learn that if you are still spoiled?”
“I observe them. Humans are a fascinating lot and are so easy to read.”
She stared into the crowd filled with swirling colors, wondering just what he saw. Too many of these peoples wore masks instead of faces. They said one thing, but clearly meant another. They whispered behind their fans, pointedly staring at her but refused to explain what captured their attentions.
“I don’t know if I agree with you,” Saoirse replied. “They seem to hide their true selves, even from those they love. Humans are difficult to understand.”
“It gets easier the longer you’re among them.”
“Does it? I can’t imagine understanding them. I prefer our ways.”
The feral grin spreading across his face sent a shiver down her spine. Warning bells rang loud and clear. He wasn’t one to be trusted, no matter that his gla
mour was a handsome man. Leprechauns were Unseelie.
She reminded herself not to tempt him. This was the perfect place for an Unseelie to go wild and Manus would be so angry with her.
Declan lifted a hand for her to take. “You have to learn their cues. Human emotions are easily read by the way they use their body, unlike the Fae who are still waters.”
“Are you going to teach me?”
“I thought you'd never ask.”
She set her glass on a table next to them. “How?”
“We’re going to dance.”
Dance? She didn’t see how that was going to help anything. But she wanted to understand them all, not just Manus. She reached out and placed her gloved hand in his.
Immediately, Declan turned hers over and plucked at the white fabric, pulling it slowly off her hand finger by finger.
“What are you doing?” she gasped. “Manus said it is not appropriate for a woman to be bare handed.”
“Precisely. We see their true colors when we challenge their ideals of what is appropriate. Look around us, Saoirse. No, not like that. Don’t gape at people as if you don’t know what I’m doing, someone will interrupt us. Under your lashes, so no one knows you’re even looking at them. Good. Now, how are people reacting?”
She let out a slow breath. “The ladies nearest to us are bright red and holding their fans up so they can talk behind them.”
“Are they wildly beating the fans or are they holding them still?”
“Still.”
“Good,” he said, and finished up removing the first glove. He tucked it into the breast pocket of his jacket and held out his hand for the other. “What of the men?”
“They’re watching you rather intently but are not moving.”
“And Manus?”
She had to lift her head to find him. Her stomach clenched. “He’s still talking to the white-haired man. He hasn’t noticed.”
Declan pulled off her other glove with a flourish and tucked it away. “Let me summarize for you then. The women wish they were you right now. Their fans are still because they’re whispering how scandalous it is that an unmarried man would dare to touch a married woman like this. The men are remaining still because they too are jealous. They have watched you the entire night and thought of doing the same.”
“Are you sure?” Saoirse shook her head. “I don’t think they care I exist other than as something new to watch.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. And I can prove it to you.”
“You can?” She met his heated gaze. “How?”
Declan did not respond. Instead, he peeled off his own gloves with a flourish and held out a bare hand for her to take.
“I couldn’t. It’s not right.”
“You and I are creatures from another world, Saoirse. They can’t understand this, nor could they ever understand our connection. We can bend to their ways, or we can show them how faeries dance.”
She could already see the imagined anger on Manus’s face. Dancing with another man was likely forbidden as well. But Declan sang a siren song she desperately wanted to follow.
Perhaps that was why she felt so out of place. Saoirse was not human. Faeries wouldn’t have lied, whispered, and giggled behind fans. They would have had sharpened blades at the ready, perhaps, but at least she would have known their true opinions.
Saoirse reached out and placed her hand atop his.
Warm skin, as smooth as her own, heated her flesh. Declan pulled her onto the dance floor with their hands raised high.
The fans began to flutter, and the men set down their drinks. No one moved yet, but it was painfully obvious the entire crowd held their breath in anticipation. The music played on, the other dancers took their places, and Declan’s grin remained in place.
“You knew this would make them unhappy,” she muttered.
“Of course I did. Parties like this can only be improved through a little uncomfortable social interaction.”
“I have no wish to create waves. Especially not when this night and these people mean something to Manus.”
“Manus?” Declan stepped forward as the music started, raising his hand for her to take. “You mean your husband?”
“I don’t think there’s another Manus in the room.”
“Ah, my apologies. I had forgotten he was here.”
The words stung. She didn’t need to be reminded that her husband had yet to even notice his wife was in the arms of another man. Every turn about the room provided glimpses proving he wasn’t looking at her.
“Don’t let it bother you too much, love,” Declan said. “Human males are so easily distracted.”
“And faerie men aren’t?”
“I can’t say we’re perfect, but we certainly know when to pay attention to our mates.”
She sighed. “I wish I could agree with you. Merrow men are not fantastic at anything related to their mates.”
“Merrow men are barely Fae.”
“I think they would disagree with you.”
They rounded the line of people, breaking away from each other to new partners for a brief moment. She lifted her hand for a tall, thin man to take, who immediately froze. Bare handed and waiting, she realized he didn’t know what to do.
“It’s all right,” she said, and moved past him into Declan’s arms.
“Do you think they know we’re different?” He mused. “There has to be a part of their tiny brains that recognizes a predator amongst them.”
“Predator? That’s a strange way to think of yourself.”
“You disagree?”
“I think they would be frightened of anything different. You flatter yourself to think it is because of our species. They don’t understand us. If we were human, they would have the same reaction.”
“Interesting.” His brows furrowed in confusion. “I’ve never considered that possibility.”
“And yet, you proclaim to be talented in reading them.”
“Reading them and knowing them are different things, little merrow. Although I’m certain you’ll find that out soon enough.”
The music stopped, and the partners stepped away from each other. While all others politely clapped, Declan kept ahold of her hand. He forced her to remain close to his side.
“We’re done here,” she said. “I have nothing else to say to you. Thank you for the distraction, but I don’t intend to cause any further scenes.”
“You’d rather waste away here pretending to be something you are not?”
“I’m not pretending at all, Declan. This is who I am and always will be. Where I live does not change that.”
A gentleman stepped forward, holding his hand against his chest. “My lady, are you quite well?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Declan released her hand and took a step back. “Have a lovely evening, my lady.”
He strode away without a care in the world. Saoirse wished she felt the same. So many people were staring at her now. She could almost hear their whispered thoughts.
Holding her head high, she moved through the crowd to Manus’s side. People parted like a wave before her. None of them said a word, no one tried to catch her attention. They all wondered who she was, this strange creature who was far too beautiful to be likeable. Saoirse was someone they could never understand.
Perhaps Declan was right, in a way. She was trying to fit in, but they weren’t likely to ever accept her. They would always sense the faerie in her blood.
She stood beside Manus who did not stop speaking.
“You see, it’ll be a good investment for the both of us. The ship will be magnificent, far more profitable than either of us could ever dream. I know the seas—”
“Manus.”
“They listen to me. They always have, and if I were captaining your ship, I would take that into consideration. Too many ships are lost because their captain doesn’t respect the ocean’s power.”
“Manus.”
The white-haired m
an nodded at her. “My lady, I’m afraid we have not yet met.”
“No.”
Manus looked down at her, surprise in his gaze. “Saoirse! I apologize, my pearl, I had forgotten you do not know many people here. May I introduce you to Captain Ramsey?”
She was tired of meeting new people. They were all the same, mistrustful and too curious. Still, she squared her shoulders and forced a smile. “Ramsey is not a name I recognize. I take it you are not from here?”
“My family is from here, but I was raised in the Caribbean.”
A warm flood of emotions crashed over her head. Excitedly, she leaned forward and said, “I miss the Caribbean very much. It is a stunning place, and the waters are crystal clear.”
The captain lifted his eyebrows. “You’ve been? I would have taken you as a princess from a much closer province, considering your complexion.”
She had said something wrong. He stared at her with suspicious eyes, and Manus rocked back and forth on his feet. But what had she said wrong?
Saoirse glanced up at her husband for clues. When he didn’t look down at her, she cleared her throat. “I have traveled all over the world. Although it was not my father’s preference that I do so, I believe it important to understand other cultures and beliefs.”
It was bending the truth almost to the point of pain. Her tongue pricked with the hints of lies, pain reminding her how fine a line she walked.
Thankfully, the captain seemed pleased with her response.
“Here, here! I see you have married an enlightened woman, Manus. Rare in these parts.”
Saoirse heard his quiet sigh of relief. “Yes, indeed. I am a lucky man to have found such a gem.”
The captain made his excuses and left to find his wife. The moment he turned his back, Manus spun towards Saoirse. He crowded her through a side window onto a balcony shaded by curtains and the waning moon.
“That was close,” he murmured as he backed her against the railing. “A little too close.”
“I told you we’d have to worry about that.”
“I don’t listen well.”
Saoirse rolled her eyes. “I can tell.”
“Where did you learn to do that?” He touched her cheek with a hand still calloused and rough.