On the Isle of Man you can find the vampire spirits known as the lhiannan shee, dwelling in sea caves where they keep a red cauldron filled with the blood of their human lovers. Mortal men cannot resist them, they enchant and enslave them by their beauty alone.
"A Fine Cauldron Of Fish is a very funny story of gods and sidhe on the Isle of Man. This is just a quick, fun read and one I highly recommend."
Reviewed by Chere Gruver of Paranormal Romance
“What do you get when two clumsy people get together an outright laugh a minute comedy in A Fine Cauldron of Fish. A Fine Cauldron of Fish is the second book I have read by Ms. Amiri and I was happy to experience that Cornelia is such a universe writer from historical romance to now comedies but with still keeping her uniqueness that her fans love.”
Reviewed by Cheryl Koch of Cheryls Book Nook
“A Fine Cauldron of Fish is hilarious. I laughed out loud several times through this story. Finding stories so creative and full of wit is a joy and I thoroughly enjoyed this one. If you like things a bit out of the ordinary and are in the mood for a fun light-heart read, then I recommend this.”
Reviewed by Vee at Night Owl Romance Book Reviews
A Fine Cauldron Of Fish
Cornelia Amiri
Publsihed by Cornelia Amiri at Smashwords
A Fine Cauldron of Fish©2013 by Cornelia Amiri
This is a revised edition of Cornelia Amiri’s
A Fine Cauldron Of Fish,
Previously published in 2008 by Eternal Press
Cover Art©2013 by Julie Darcy
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from Cornelia Amiri.
Cornelia Amiri
P. O. Box 740186
Houston, TX 77274
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
A Fine Cauldron of Fish
By Cornelia Amiri
Chapter One
Ready to pounce on the first virile man she spotted, Margaid tread water near a docked boat. With the salty taste of the sea on her tongue, she drew in a long, deep gulp of air. Wet hair whipped her shoulders as she shook her head in anger, still seething about the sea god’s threat.
“You are the only one of the lhiannan shee who gives me problems. All the others use their beauty to lure and seduce men then drain their blood into red cauldrons,” she imitated Mannan beg mac y Leir in a clownish voice.
Margaid swept her long red hair back from her freckled face. Maybe he was right. She deserved to be turned into a water horse. She hadn’t been a good lhiannan shee all these centuries. She never once did what the lhiannan shee were supposed to do.
The muscles in her neck clinched like a knot tugged tight. She didn’t like blood. It was too red and smelly and…yuck bloody.
Her attention shifted to one of the poles supporting the dock. With the gentle sway of the waves, water rose and fell against the wood, moving up and down the thick pole, again and again. The muscles in her abdomen pulled tight and her breath grew shallow. She was hot. “From spending too much time alone,” she said aloud. She needed a hard, muscular man in her cave on the sea bed. Have some fun with the human before she filled her cauldron with his blood.
The red orb in the sky hung over Douglas Bay as it set. Margaid peered at a huge building, lit up like gold. She'd heard people call it things like ‘the Hilton’ and ‘the casino.’ As a man walked out of the building, she smiled, gazing at his hair, the color of the yellow sponge plants that clung to the boulders by the entrance of her underwater cave. His only imperfection was a cowlick, which stuck out like the feathers on a crested bird.
Margaid swam here to find a man. Now she’d spotted one. She glided through the water toward him. As she approached, she noticed he squinted his eyes, which made him look rather funny. It also eased the shakiness inside her.
“Laa mie,” she greeted him in her most tempting tone.
He stepped to the edge of the dock where she tread water. “Hi.”
“Come join me, the water’s fine.” Why is he still squinting? It’s nighttime, so it’s not because of the sun’s glare. “Jump in for a swim.”
“I don’t have my swim trunks.” He leaned his head to the side and pressed his lips together. “My luggage was lost.”
“Did you look for it?”
His rich chuckle danced in the air. “No, the airline lost it. My contacts were in it.”
“Your contacts? People you know?”
“You’re funny.” His mouth spread into a dimpled smile though he still squinted his eyes. “No, for my eyes, like glasses but better.” He shrugged. “My eyes irritated me, so to be comfortable on the flight, I took out my contacts and stuffed them in a carry-on bag before we boarded. But my mom had two carry-on satchels and her purse, so they shoved mine in the baggage compartment, where they lost it.” He smiled. “They should find it soon.”
“You came in an airplane.” Perfect, a stranger from far away. “I’ve seen them fly over the sea.”
“Yeah, I’m from America.”
“America? Is it a large island, like Man?”
“No, much larger.” There was a trace of laughter in his voice. “And it’s not an island.” Pausing, he tapped his finger against his chin. “Oh, you probably call it the United States.”
“I’ve never met anyone who didn’t live on an island.” She flashed her brightest smile at him. “So you’ve come to live here on Man instead of America?”
“No, we’re on vacation.” He hesitated. “Well my mother and brother came to discover their roots, but I came for fun. I stumbled from the hotel club to see what else was out here.”
She bobbed her head in agreement. “I also come to the island at night to look at what’s out here.”
“Anything going down tonight, do you know the spot to go to?”
“Yes, I’ll take you there, jump in.” She curled her fingers and gestured to him.
“In the water?”
“Yes, under the sea.”
Laughter flowed from deep in his throat.
“You don’t need a swim suit.” In response to his contagious chuckles, her giggles rippled through the air. “Slip off your shoes and dive in.”
“Why not?” He kicked off his shoes. “Is that a bikini you’re wearing?”
“No, a chiton. It’s easy to swim in.”
“Oh, I know it’s short and sleeveless, other than that it’s hard to see without my contacts.” He shed his black t-shirt with the graphic of a helmeted rider, tagged ‘Isle of Man, Road Racing Capital of the World.’
Margaid’s eyes locked on his rock solid chest, the flat, dusky nipples, the smooth flesh of his defined abdomen ripped into six sections, and the dip of his belly button in the center of his firm, taut stomach. Her palms itched to touch and caress his strong body. Her eyes drifted to his jeans and the large bulge between his thighs, which proved she aroused him as much as he stirred her desire.
“Shouldn’t you
take your pants off before you jump in?” Even in the cold water she felt hot, her heart raced and she had trouble catching her breath.
“Can’t.” His eyes held a devilish gleam as he flashed a dimpled grin. “I’m going commando.”
With his jeans on, he dove in head first, then shot up for air with a short yell. “Crazy! The water’s like ice.”
“It’s warm to me.” She had to get this man to her lair or she’d be turned into a water horse for sure. “You’ll get use to it. Come on, follow me.” Ducking underwater, she swam away, hoping he’d chase her.
Through blue swirls of water dotted with tiny bubbles, she kept her pace slow so he could keep up. Forcing herself not to look back and appear over-eager, she glided on, hoping he still followed. She could be a proper lhiannan shee. She could do it.
She swam back to Andrew. As he tread water, his head and chest peaked out above the surface of the sea. His wet flesh looked so slick she had to touch him, had to see if his skin felt smother than the porpoise she’d recently petted. She stretched out her hand and tapped the tips of her fingers on his firm, chiseled chest.
“What?” He glanced at his chest.
“Nothing. A bit of seaweed clung there,” she lied. “It’s gone now.”
She had to fight a riveting desire to wrap her arms around him, cling to him like seaweed and press her breast against his chest. Her nipples tightened at just the thought of such a sultry embrace.
“Did you see that porpoise?” His eyes grew wide and his smile stretched across his whole face. “I’ve never been that close to one before.”
“Yes, they swim all around here. We’re almost at my house.” She took his arm in hers. “Come.” She dunked underwater with him and swam at his side.
Andrew didn’t know it but Margaid used her magic to allow him to share her ability to hold her breath much longer than humanly possible. He would never be able to free dive this long or this deep on his own.
They passed a large leatherback sea turtle flapping its rough front and back flippers as its narrow head bobbed in the water. As they dived deeper, Andrew pointed to stingrays with hooded eyes that sailed passed, flapping wide, dark wings as their serpentine tails swayed in a titillating fashion. The whip like tails all bore long spines at the tip, able to penetrate deep into soft, sensitive flesh. Margaid pointed to a conger eel hiding under a nearby rock, sticking out its large, thick head. Its two black eyes stared at Margaid accusingly, as if it knew what she was about to do. The big eel’s long spindle shaped body slithered over the boulders towards the entrance to her cave.
Andrew drew back, but she dragged him forward until their feet hit the soft sand at the sea bed. Who was that eel to judge who she chose to take into her cave? What could she do, either be a proper lhiannan shee or be a water horse. She had no choice.
Holding Andrew’s hand in hers, Margaid stood in front of a boulder engraved with ancient Celtic swirls forming a triskelion, the symbol of Mannan beg mac y Leir. Shoving the boulder aside, she stepped through the entrance onto the stairs, which led into the cave. With Andrew inside, she shut the hatch.
* * * * *
“Wow, I can breathe in here. Just like on land.”Andrew followed her down. “Man this is crazy.” He took the last step off the stairs and pressed his strong hands on her shoulders. “You really live under the sea. I thought you were joking.”
His touch felt firm yet gentle, she’d noticed earlier that his fingers were long and his wrists were thick, in fact everything about Andrew seemed so manly. She peered at his wet jeans which clung to his firm ass and his long muscular legs.
Margaid turned her gaze to her humble abode wondering how it would compare to his own house. She glanced at the ceiling and the two favorite features of her cozy cave. First, the cluster of long rock-sickles dangling above her dining area. A burning beeswax candle mounted on each stalactite transformed it into a grand yet natural chandelier. The second one was above her living room, a round glass pane which looked out on the blue-violet sea, where rainbow-hued fish swam by, shimmering with light from their glossy scales.
She noticed Andrew’s gaze swept over the rock walls of the cavern and settled on the ancient tapestry of white embroidery on a maroon background, depicting a flat boat, full of men. A border of Celtic knot work surrounded the ship.
He crossed the sand-packed floor to an antique wooden sofa and plopped down on the thin, green cushion.
“Not bad.” Andrew’s gaze lingered the longest on an ivory-hued stalagmite, which resembled a spiral mountain with a forest of cone trees sprouting up its side. “Did you steal this one from a museum?”
“Oh, you mean it looks like modern art.” Margaid sat down on the sofa beside him.
“I’m glad you like it.” She pointed to the ceiling. “The sea made it over time, drip by drip.” Why do I care what he thinks after all I have to kill him. By the sword of Mannan beg mac y Leir, I’m not ready for this.
As he laughed, he leaned his body toward her.
She inhaled Andrew’s briny scent of the sea mixed with a rich, musky aroma. The energy and heat rolling off him struck her like a heavy wind. She wet her lips as she gazed at his full lips, hungering for a kiss. She tilted her head until their mouths touched and she pressed hers hard against his, still wet and salty from the sea. When his lips parted she thrust her tongue into his mouth, swirling it around the roof. A stream of fire coursed through her. Andrew released a low moan.
His mouth tasted of a fresh, mint flavor. His palms were warm on her flesh as he cupped her shoulders and pulled her closer. He tangled his tongue with hers. Hardly able to breathe, she was light headed, woozy from his kiss.
As he dragged his lips off hers, he peered into her eyes. Though he squinted. “I wish I could get a better look at you.”
“You see me, right?” Her beauty alone should seduce him, that’s what Mannan had told her. Though more kissing sounded like a good idea.
“What I can see, I like.”
“Good.” She licked her lips, which still burned from his kiss. “I like what I see too.”
She wrapped her arms around the warm, firm flesh of his broad shoulders and tilted her neck until her lips hovered over his. Her inner abdomen muscles drew tight and she was so hot with need. Margaid flicked her tongue out and ran it along his soft lips, tracing them. Andrew grasped her waist with his hands bracing her as his lips crushed hers.
Her heart pounded from the tight pressure between her thighs and the taste of salt and mint from his mouth. She eased her lips from his and tried to gather her thoughts as she took in a deep breath.
His mouth spread into a wide, flirtatious smile. Just when she’d caught her breath he pointed at the red cauldron. “What’s that in the middle of the floor?” Andrew squinted again. “It looks like a large pot.”
“It’s a lhiannan shee cauldron, you know, it’s fey.”
“Fey?” He stood and walked over to it. “It’s huge, as large as a table.”
“It’s not for mortals.” She shrugged. “Well it is, partly.” She rubbed her upper teeth over her lower lip. “You know what a lhiannan shee is right?”
“No.” He flashed a broad toothy grin.
Her stomach and lower muscles clinched tight at his smile. She licked her lips, hungry for another kiss. “It’s because you’re from America.” She swept her wet hair back behind her ear. “Lhiannan shee only live on the Isle of Man.”
“Never heard of them.” One golden eyebrow arched. “Are they like the illuminati or skull and bones?”
“No, they’re...oh, it doesn’t matter.” Her gaze fixed on his gleaming eyes, at least he wasn’t squinting. “You said your mother’s searching for her family roots in Man.”
“Yes, the Quayles.”
“I know that name. Seafarers from ancient times. They use to honor Mannan beg mac y Leir each Midsummer’s Eve. They’d carry meadow grass to the top of Barule Mountain for the god and ask him to bless the boats and give them a good catch f
or the year.”
“Yeah, people believed all that stuff long ago, but now days everyone knows none of it’s real.”
She gasped. “Mannan is quite real.”
“You believe in this sea god, do you?”
“He’s part of my life. You could say he’s my father.”
The contagious sound of Andrew’s laughter rippled through the underwater cavern.
She chuckled with him.
Then she gave him her most seductive look by parting her lips slightly and fluttering her lashes. “Let’s talk about something more interesting than an old god.” She grasped the scooped neckline of her chiton and slid it down to expose the top of her breasts.
After gaping at her bosom for some time, his eyes were reddened and his squint more severe. “Man, I need my contacts.”
“Contacts?” She touched the side of his face. The slight stubble tickled her fingers as she slid them down his cheek then curled them under his chin. “No, it’s me you need.” Grasping his firm chin, she pulled his faced closer to hers.
His cheeks flushed red. “Yes.”
She gazed deep into his blue eyes as she slid her fingers off his chin and stood. She faced him in her wet, chiton, which clung to her body. She cupped her breasts with both hands, squeezing and stroking them. Her entire body tingled.
She slid her hands to her shoulders. Fumbling with the broaches pinning the fabric, she managed to unfasten them. The draped cloth fell free, baring her breasts to his gaze. She set the brooches on the old sea chest in front of the sofa.
“Beautiful.” His whiskey tone and the hungry look in his eyes sent a jolt of heat through her.
She slipped her fingers through the braided hemp belt tied at her waist and swayed her hips from side to side. She had to seduce him or she’d never be able to kill him.
This was not what she wanted. Still, she didn’t want to be a water horse either. She managed to slide her fingers up to the knot and work it loose. Margaid pulled the belt free and the fabric that clothed her but a moment ago fell into a puddle of cloth at her feet. She stepped out of it and kicked it aside toward an ancient clay pot stuffed with bright, cheery coral. This was it. There was no turning back now. He was hers.
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