His bag slid to the deck beside him, where a puddle of dampness had formed from his sea-sprayed clothes. Finn gazed at his features as if tracing them for the first time. The curve of his jaw, the strong contours and cheekbones, the eyes glowing with anticipation for her response.
"So you'll still write it," she said, slowly. "But not until they're ready." Her hands had withdrawn from her pockets, her body moving to close the distance between them. "Until they give you say–even if it be a long time?"
In his eyes, she could see the movement of the water reflected, as if the sea tossed within their depths. His expression was serious as he met her gaze, no sign of laughter or regret.
"It's a story that will require a lot of research," he answered. "Maybe years." A smile tugged at his lips with these words.
She felt his fingers touch hers, intertwining with them; caressing the smooth skin between delicate bones, the rough patches from rocks and saltwater and lines cast into the sea.
"Maybe we should head ashore," said Morgan. "Get our visitor settled properly on the island." He tapped the contents of his pipe into the water, tucking it into his pocket as he moved towards the boat's cabin. In the distance, the ferry was disappearing into a white speck again as it churned towards the distant mainland.
"Well said," Finn answered, without glancing towards him. She said nothing else as Landen's fingers cupped her face, tilting it up towards his own. Until the view of the sea was lost, the view of the shores of Fair Island momentarily vanishing as his lips were pressed against hers. His arms wrapped around her, brushing against the piece of paper protruding from her coat pocket. It fell open on the deck, the printed words staring up at the sky.
Whatever truth lies here, whatever myth, visitors expecting a brush with the paranormal or the mysteries of Fair Island can be assured of one thing. There is more than one mermaid in a place like this. And more than one way to find her.
Finn's Rock Page 8