by Emma Hamm
“I’m glad too.”
“And someday…” She inhaled a deep salty breath. “Someday, when we’re both old and tired, I will look back on this moment and know that above all else, I made the right decision to choose you.”
He squeezed her waist, a man of few words and even fewer emotions. But he understood her. She was certain of it.
“Good,” his baritone vibrated in her ear. “Because I’m going to treat you like a queen.”
“Where are we again?” Saoirse asked.
She stared up the tall building and tried not to be afraid of the gargoyles standing at attention. The stone steps felt strange against her bare feet. Manus had argued she needed shoes, but no one could see her feet anyways. The dress he poured over her head this morning was so long it brushed the ground. Would someone be lifting her gown to check?
He grumbled but allowed her the freedom to walk barefoot as she desired.
“This is the O’Sullivan manor. They’re an old family in these parts, have been in the area for centuries.”
“And what are we asking them to do?”
“He manages a bank. They’ll be able to help us keep all these riches safe.”
“Will he?” Saoirse looked up at Manus. She felt his nerves running through her like the rising tide. “You don’t seem as confident as I thought you might be.”
“O’Sullivan does not particularly like me.”
“Why?”
A red blush stained Manus’s cheeks. “I slept with his wife.”
“I don’t see why sleeping would be an issue.” At his pointed expression, she nodded. “Ah. Not that kind of sleeping.”
“Most men do not appreciate meeting others who know their wife as intimately as they do.”
“Would you like it if another man knew me in such a way?”
He froze with his hand lifted to the door. His brows drew down, his spine straightened, and a ripple of tension spread up his spine into his shoulders. Saoirse watched in fascination as his raised hand curled into a fist and the knuckles turned white.
“I’d kill any man who touched you like that.”
“Do you think he feels the same?” She radiated innocence, blinking up at him with large dark eyes.
Saoirse knew what she was doing. Manus thought poorly of people immediately upon meeting them. He could be cruel at times, unthinking in his endless judgment. She softened him with a mere word or comparison.
Manus shook his head. “I don’t think O’Sullivan has ever been the killing type. It would get his hands dirty, and he’s far too delicate for that.”
He pounded on the door three times and took a few steps back.
Saoirse wasn’t certain why Manus was so nervous. His fingers tapped against his pant legs and he looked uncomfortable in the tight black suit that hardly fit his broad frame. Her own yellow dress was too tight at the waist and made breathing difficult. Yet, for some strange reason she couldn’t understand, he insisted they dress this way.
It made little sense. Why would they willingly wear clothes they didn’t like? Why couldn’t they be comfortable, like everyone else?
But this was the way of humans, and yet another thing she would need to learn.
The door cracked open and a pinched face appeared. The man stared at them for a few seconds before slowly closing the door.
Manus leaped forward and stuck his foot in the way. “I’m here to see O’Sullivan.”
“The master isn’t taking any visitors.”
“He’ll want to speak with me.”
“I don’t think so, sir. Do you have an appointment?”
Growling, Manus set his shoulder against the sturdy door and shoved hard. Saoirse could hear the man stumble back, strike a solid object, and curse.
“You have no right to force your way into this house—”
“I do when it’s O’Sullivan. Tell him I’m here.”
“Manus,” she chastised, although it was likely too late. The man had already stiffened his spine, sniffed disdainfully, and disappeared around the corner. “Perhaps we might have been a little kinder in our treatment of the poor man?”
“He works for O’Sullivan, he gets worse than that on a daily basis.”
“Are you certain? He appeared quite frightened, and I have no wish to harm anyone.”
Manus stroked her jaw with a finger. “Let me deal with this, my pearl. These are my people, not yours, and I know how they work. Come with me.”
“Where?”
He did not answer. Instead, Manus took her hand and laid it on his forearm. Together, they walked down the narrow hall into a wide room with seating arranged around it. Saoirse stared all around her at the bright splashes of color, the ornately carved chairs, and a large contraption in the back with what looked like wings held down by cords.
A thick carpet cushioned her feet. The pattern was one she did not recognize. Orange, red, yellow, it was a garishly colored piece but one that made the room slightly more welcoming.
“What is that?” She asked, pointing to the strange beast in the corner.
“It’s a harp. We play music on it.”
“I’ve seen them before, at the bottom of the sea. The ties were always broken though.”
“Strings.”
“Hmm?” Saoirse looked up at him with a question in her gaze.
“They’re not called ties, they’re called strings. You may touch it if you’d like.”
“I couldn’t. It’s not mine.” But she desperately wanted to. Her fingers already tingled at the thought. What would it sound like? Deep and sad like whale song? Or high pitched and chattering like that of a dolphin’s laughter?
“We’re guests here. Besides, we have enough money to replace it if you break it.”
She wanted to shake her head, to proclaim she was mature enough to wait until the master of the house gave her permission, but the strings gleamed in the light and the gold curved spine called her like the whisper of a siren. Her fingers tingled until she finally relented.
Saoirse glided across the floor and rounded the harp. She reached out a tentative finger and plucked a string.
The most wholesome tone echoed from the instrument, filling the room with a sound like the beating of butterfly wings. Saoirse’s eyes widened, and her soul took flight along with the stunning sound. It made her chest hurt and expand all at the same time.
“You like it?” Manus asked.
She looked up and caught the reverent expression on his face. He stared at her as if she were made of magic. Perhaps she was because she reached out to make the sound again and felt like a goddess.
Settling onto the stool behind her, she scooted as close to the harp as she could. Experimenting with music like this was a rare treat, and one she would consider a gift. Saoirse intended to use every moment to her benefit.
Her fingers danced across the strings, plucking each to create different songs, both tremulous and grand. Once she understood the sounds this strange beast made, she knew how to replicate the music in her mind. She played a merrow lullaby, a whale song, a wail of a sobbing mother, and the sigh of a new bride. The strings hummed against her fingers, urging her to continue.
Finally, she paused. There was still music left inside her, but it didn’t want to be released. Not yet. It waited to learn from still silence before creating something anew.
A robust voice broke through the calm. “Bravo! Magnificent, my dear girl.”
Her head snapped up so quickly she felt her neck crack. A man stood in the doorway, so large he filled the entire space. His belly stuck out far in front of him and strained the buttons keeping his shirt closed. Strange curled hair graced his upper lip, nearly touching the prominent brows that wisped towards his forehead.
He stepped into the room and Saoirse stared at his oddly thin legs. They weren’t proportionate to his body, she mused. Perhaps he was a faerie as well, for he shouldn’t be able to remain upright with all his weight in his shoulders and belly.
Sao
irse stood, holding herself steady on the harp and swallowing hard. She wanted to apologize but couldn’t make the words cross her lips. The music had been so lovely, possibly the most incredible thing she’d experienced thus far on land. She couldn’t apologize for finding it.
O’Sullivan flapped a surprisingly small hand in her direction. “Please, my dear, sit back down. Such talent should be rewarded. Manus, I was prepared to throw you out until I discovered this marvelous creature you brought me.”
She swallowed and glanced over at Manus, who was clearly having difficulty holding himself together.
“I doubt you could throw me out if you tried, O’Sullivan.”
“Is that so? It’s been a long time since we rubbed elbows, Manus, but I’m not a poor man anymore. Have you arrived for my wife?” O’Sullivan stared at Saoirse with an angry look in his eyes that made her shiver. “The trade may be agreeable.”
“Don’t look at her.”
“Why not? You couldn't possibly have a claim on such a beauty. She’d have to be mad to waste her time with the likes of you.”
Saoirse didn’t like the direction of this conversation. Clearing her throat, she made her way around the harp and stood beside Manus.
“Lord O’Sullivan, is it?” she asked.
“You’re a sweet thing. I’m no Lord, my dear, but I appreciate the compliment.”
Saoirse dipped into a curtsy, as Manus had taught her, and held her breath. He had explained women rarely spoke unless they were spoken to. It was a concept she was familiar with.
Merrow men were like this man with the strange facial hair. They blew up as soon as another male got near them. They wanted to be the biggest, the strongest, the most fearsome male in the ocean no matter what the other looked like.
She could deal with this. This was someone she finally understood and recognized.
“Thank you for excusing our rude entrance to your home,” she said in tones dripping honey. “The splendor of this manor is surely enough to grant you the title of Lord.”
O’Sullivan chuckled. “Where did you find this little actress, Manus? She’s impressively astute. Rise, my dear. Your ploy has reminded me to be a gentleman, for which I thank you.”
She rose from her curtsy and focused a bright smile upon the man. “Thank you. And if it pleases you, I should greatly like to address you as my husband does.”
The wispy eyebrows lifted to his hairline. “Husband? Good God, what have you done?”
Manus grunted. “Is it so hard to imagine?”
“Frankly, yes. I never thought you’d subject a woman to your company for the rest of her life, let alone one so exquisite. What have you done to the poor girl?”
“Nothing!”
“Are you so certain? No woman in her right mind would agree to live with you—”
Saoirse leapt forward and placed her hand on O’Sullivan’s forearm. “Please, pardon my forwardness; I would thoroughly enjoy a tour of your home, O’Sullivan. I have heard many tales of its splendorous attention to detail and would very much like to see it for myself. Was it you who designed such a lovely home?”
He sputtered, mouth gaping open as he tried to respond to her. “I-Well- No my dear, we hired a team of artisans to come and build the entire structure.”
“Certainly, you had some say. I can see a man of your intelligence in every piece of this building!”
“Can you?” His mustache twitched.
“Absolutely. And I would love to meet the woman who has captured your heart. Shall we walk and meet her? You can tell me about all the intricacies of this building on the way.”
“Manus?” O’Sullivan glanced over her head. “Either she’s an incredible actress, or you’ve caught yourself an angel. Regardless, I find I’m rather unsettled.”
“She does that to people.”
“Come on, my dear,” he said and patted her hand on his arm. “I’ll take you through the house and we can meet my wife. I’m uncertain she’ll like to see your husband again, but it appears there are topics the men must discuss.”
She smiled. “Thank you, O’Sullivan.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t agreed to whatever request your fool of a husband is about to make.”
O’Sullivan guided them through his home, stopping here and there to declare he had assisted in some architecture, he’d designed the parlor, and whatever else he could take credit for. She knew he was trying to impress her, and frankly he did.
She laughed all the way to the small seating room. It was easy to pretend to be this person, the one that cooed at men and calmed their worries. She hated every moment of it.
The banker’s wife was a quiet woman, unassuming, with a smile on her face that looked like it might shatter any second. She sat on the couch with a teacup in her hand and trembling hands that clacked the cup against the saucer.
“Husband?”
O’Sullivan waved a hand in the air. “Yes, dear, I am fully aware Manus is here.”
“Who is on your arm?”
“His wife.” He brought Saoirse forward and gestured for her to take a seat next to his wife. “This is Deirdre, my beloved wife.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, mistress.”
“Decidedly forward, isn’t she?” Deirdre glanced at her husband for a moment, and then her eyes turned towards Manus.
Saoirse didn’t like the way the other woman’s eyes widened in appreciation. Jealousy burned in her chest. This woman had known Manus intimately. In the ways he would kill another man for knowing her.
Why hadn’t he thought she might want to kill the woman seated beside her?
Manus followed O’Sullivan to the other side of the room and took the offered glass of amber liquid. Deirdre did not take her eyes off the men.
Saoirse cleared her throat. “I understand you are married to O’Sullivan?”
“The correct way to refer to him is Mister O’Sullivan.”
“Ah.”
Deidre turned to her with a fiery gaze. “Why are you here?”
“We needed to speak to your husband about a business venture.” She repeated what Manus had told her although she didn’t understand what it meant. “We believe Mister O’Sullivan might assist us with an investment.”
“Manus has no claim to fortune, it was one of his better attributes.”
“He does now.”
An exclamation from the other side of the room interrupted them. O’Sullivan set his drink on a warm wooden desk and shouted, “What? You have how much?”
“Keep your voice down, man. There are ladies in the room.”
“Where did you get that? I’m not helping you on some get rich scheme where you robbed some poor man blind. Or heaven’s forbid, did you kill someone for that money?”
“I killed no one, O’Sullivan.”
“Then where? You didn’t get it riding a ship into the horizon, I’ll tell you that. No ships have returned with a cargo that large.”
A muscle bounced on his jaw as Manus silently pointed towards Saoirse.
All eyes turned to her. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment, but there wasn’t anything she could add. This was the plan. She was the heiress to an immense fortune, one whose father had long ago died and needed a man to marry regardless of his station. She’d added that they’d fallen in love with each other, and Manus agreed.
O’Sullivan cleared his throat. “You? You’re the one with the money.”
“She’s an heiress,” Manus explained. “It’s old family money, and we obviously can’t bury it behind the shack. I must put it somewhere safe, and I’d like to buy a house befitting someone of our station.”
“Your station?” O’Sullivan scratched the back of his neck. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I cannot reconcile the foolish young want-to-be sailor with a man of wealth and stature.”
“Get used to it, old man.”
Saoirse stood. “Manus, please. These people have let us into their house and have been perfectly hospitable.”
“Then let him insult. His words cannot harm us, and I’d much rather he help.” She clasped her hands to her chest. “Mister O’Sullivan, any assistance would be greatly appreciated by both of us, no matter what my husband says.”
“You want a house and a safe place for your riches,” O’Sullivan grunted. “I never thought the day would come.”
“Then you’ll help us?” Manus asked.
“I’m not pleased about it, but there are a few properties for sale in the area. We could speak to the curators. I’ll have to vouch for you.”
“And will you?”
Saoirse held her breath, terrified that this man and his wife would turn them down. There were other options, but Manus said O’Sullivan was the most trustworthy. He was a good man at his core.
She heard Deirdre huff out a quiet, sullen breath.
Hands curling into fists, Saoirse reminded herself that she was not human. Merrows did not stoop to the level of human women. She had endured storms, shark attacks, the pawing of merrow men. She could endure the disdain of a woman who had once touched Manus.
Still, every fiber of her being wanted to slash at Deirdre with gnashing teeth and nails.
O’Sullivan nodded. “All right. I’ll help you. I want to see where this story goes between the two of you. That’s my condition. You stay in touch, Manus.”
“Understood.”
They clasped forearms, and Saoirse felt a knot unravel in her chest. This was what he wanted, what they both wanted. A normal human life.
Together.
Manus gestured all around, a smile on his face like she’d never seen before. “Well? What do you think? Is it everything you ever dreamed of?”
Saoirse glanced at the gold and white interior. She hadn’t ever dreamed of a home, let alone one that made her eyes water. It was too bright. The surfaces were too reflective. Everything about the house was just too much.
But how could she ruin his happiness? Manus loved this home, so much that he already invited people to a dinner party. She didn’t even know what a dinner party was.