The Merman and the Barbarian Pirate (9 page)

Ah, horses. He'd learned about these in the schoolroom, and had seen men riding them near the castle as well as Haverford driving one in his gig. This was a stable. The horses were a bit large for him to wish to get too close. He'd seek his clothing elsewhere.

The next outhouse was smaller and displayed no lights. The first door was shut fast, but the second was left unlocked, so he swung it forward and stepped into the gloom. A sharp scent hit him, mingled with something sweet and fragrant. His eyes began to adjust, and he could barely contain a cry of delight. He'd found a room full of clean clothes.

The finest outfit he'd ever seen gleamed in the faint illumination that seeped in from outside. A broad-shouldered jacket with a scarlet waistcoat was stretched on a wooden stand, embroidered in floral patterns with thread that glimmered gold. The buttons shone too, and Raef rushed over to touch and fondle, ghosting his fingers over tightly-fitting knee breeches made of kid-soft leather. This must be one of his lord's outfits, and he thirsted to wear it. Would it look well on him, or would he look a mere wretch compared to Haverford? He decided to leave it. Such finery would render him conspicuous.

He dried himself before locating a modest pair of trousers and a shirt, which he adored the clean smell of, and a pair of brown shoes, the first he'd ever worn. He had to blow out the light to dress, but Kemp's lessons meant that the laces presented Raef with little trouble. Soon, he was ready. He tucked the knife in his waistband, and then … what to do? Perhaps he should attempt to enter the house, locate Haverford's bedchamber, and wait. He desperately wanted his first encounter with Haverford to be just the two of them.

Upon opening the door a crack, Raef started. Haverford paced down the side of the castle and headed past him toward the stables. The remembrance of that light in the stables worried him, but perhaps his lord was taking the air or visiting the horses rather than another human. This was Raef's chance. He had to take it.

As soon as Haverford disappeared, he crept after, fast as he dared. The shoes felt strange and tight. While they cushioned his feet from the mud and gravel, it was harder to tread softly. He cringed, walking on the sides, which proved painful. Pressing his back to the wall, he edged under the archway into the stable block.

When he heard voices, his heart plummeted. Haverford had gone to an occupied part of the building, and Raef could make out his silhouette through the window as he conversed with a man within. So near, yet still they couldn't be alone together. But maybe the other fellow would leave soon. If this individual was a servant, Haverford could be ordering him on some errand or to saddle up a horse for a night ride. If Haverford remained there unaccompanied, Raef would go to him.

Spying a door that led to a dark area near the lit one, Raef stole toward it and slipped inside. It was an empty compartment, the floor piled with hay. To Raef's joy and fright, he was divided from Haverford by only one more empty stall. Beyond that, above the top of a wooden partition, he could see Haverford's profile glittering in the candlelight. And he could hear him.

"Stephen," drawled Haverford. "I'm getting bored with your groveling. Where the deuce is your sister?"

"I'm sorry, my lord," replied Stephen, "but mother's not well tonight, and Eliza had to stay in and nurse her. But I'll do anything you like in her stead."

Stephen sounded … scared. Was Raef's love being cruel to this man? He snuck into the next stall, so only a single screen divided him from Stephen and Haverford.

Finding a chink in the wood, he pressed his eye to it. Stephen—up close, a slim lad with pale skin and sunken cheeks—had dropped to his knees. He struggled to undo the flap at the front of Haverford's silk breeches, to uncover Haverford’s fine body, as Raef had craved to uncover Kemp's. Raef held his breath, but wanted to cry out, scream in outrage. He had competition for Haverford's affections. Haverford wanted Stephen after all. And Stephen's sister, too!

Jealousy stabbed like a trident in Raef's gut. He tried to reason with it. After all, Haverford didn't know he existed yet. All was not lost. Haverford had never looked nobler, the curl of his hair perfect, his ribbon straight, and his chiseled jaw squared. He clenched a fist in Stephen's shock of blond hair.

"Get on with it," he growled. "This had better be good, or—" He gestured with his head to where a black-tongued whip hung on the wall.

Raef gulped, glued to the hole in the timber, his brains in as much tumult as his heart. He felt like his eyes were bulging as he discerned the outline of Haverford's prick, straining against the fabric, swelling beneath Stephen's fumbling. Stephen was so lucky, so privileged, yet his hands trembled. Haverford yanked at his hair. "Hurry up, boy."

Maybe Stephen liked Haverford to be rough and craved the gentle lick of that whip. After all, Raef himself dreamed of Haverford commanding and possessing him, body and soul.

But it was no good. Now the initial onslaught of envy had passed, Raef couldn't subdue the doubts that dogged him. The scene before him left a brackish taste in his mouth, a world away from the honeyed swirl in his belly evoked by Kemp's nearness, let alone Kemp's passionate kiss. Haverford still looked like the perfect romantic hero, Raef's handsome prince… but maybe, just maybe, Lord Haverford was less beautiful within than his fair face suggested.

The sound of clopping hooves caused everyone to startle. "Damnation." Lord Haverford shoved away Stephen, who caught himself on one hand, then echoed Haverford's angry grunt with one of pain. "Get out of here, you little shit." Haverford kicked in his direction, narrowly missing him as he scrambled backward, pulling his wrist in tight and cradling it. "See to these riders, and then fetch your doxy of a sister, to the blazes with your mother! I'll have you both later, or I'll have you spread-eagled and thrashed so thoroughly you'll not sit down 'til Michaelmas."

Stephen dragged himself up and obeyed, still nursing his arm. He'd blanched a shade paler than before. Haverford laced himself in crossly before he strutted to the door. "Ah, Simpson. There you are. What news, man, what news?"

"No sight of the Pirate Kemp," said Simpson, a stolid man of middle years who sported a three-cornered hat and carried a musket, which Raef knew to be a fearsome firearm. "But my chaps in the yeomanry cavalry are on their way here now, and a hundred royal dragoons will be arriving at Lilhaven at nightfall tomorrow. From there, we'll be positioning them in every port, inlet, and bay up the coast for fifty miles. The next time that blackguard makes land, he'll be done for."

Raef felt sick. Haverford rubbed his hands and emitted a full-blooded chuckle. "Excellent. I'll travel up to Lilhaven to greet the troops myself. This is going to be fantastic sport. I'd like to be there at the start, then I'll enjoy it all the more when I see him hanged."

No. You can't!
Raef bit his tongue to stop himself protesting. He understood that these men must stop the kluggites from thieving, but Kemp didn't deserve to die.

 "Whatever happens," promised Simpson, "we'll make sure you're in at the kill, my lord."

"Oh, I will be, you can trust in that." Haverford slapped Simpson's back. "Now, my dear Sheriff, this is hardly the place for us to discuss such niceties as executing pirates. Let us retreat to the billiards room and take a cup of Madeira, eh? Drink to our future laurels."

"And to one soon-to-be-dead bandit and his crew," added Simpson. Haverford snuffed the candle, then strode from the stable, Simpson following at his heel like a pup.

Raef fell away from his spyhole and dropped his face to his hands. His lord was beautiful still, but his heart no longer blossomed with affection. Doubt riddled him, and he felt no envy of the benighted Stephen. Raef had wished to feel the force of Haverford's strong body… but not in the cold fashion Stephen had suffered it. He was so confused again. He'd still got Haverford's knife, and surely presenting that would please him. Haverford
might
treat Raef differently to Stephen, if he understood the nature of Raef's devotion.

Or perhaps not.

And what about the pirates? If the
Alice O'Shanty
was to make port at Lilhaven to find this Cecilia woman, Kemp would sail straight into danger. Raef couldn't abide the thought of anybody inflicting painful deaths on the
Alice O'Shanty
's crew. They didn't deserve
that
. They'd been rough, but also kind.

His hot breath congealed beneath his fingers and perspiration prickled on his brow. Nothing had turned out as it was supposed to. It might be best to leave this place forever, to swim away and forget them all. To return to his life of dreaming among the fishes and tracing patterns on the cliffs as the long hours rolled by. Yet could he ever forget Haverford's proud beauty?

Or Kemp's shattering kiss?

The dagger at his belt felt heavy, tugging down his waistband so the night air brushed his hip. He could find Haverford, present the weapon, and try to sway him from wanting Stephen and his sister, tonight or ever again. Alternatively, he could set out for Lilhaven and save that rogue Kemp from unthinkable horrors.

Raef stared into the hay, and only one man's face filled his mind's eye. Once his choice was made, he realized it'd been no choice at all.

"Captain Jon Kemp," he murmured. "What have you done to me?"

Six

Soon after Haverford and Simpson left, a second set of riders arrived in a cacophony of whoops and horn blasts, giving Stephen much work to do. Raef panicked that the stable lad would bring one of the horses into the stall where he hid, but there was no chance to slip away unseen.

The newcomers talked much about the pirate. "The
Alice O'Shanty
is faster than Mercury," said one fellow, who was dismounting in the yard. Catching the ship's name, Raef hurried to crouch beneath the window and listen. "She's a winged chariot, and that Kemp's the devil himself. We'll never catch 'im."

"Aye, we will," came a gruff reply, "now Haverford's set his black heart on it. What that man wants, he gets."

The men walked away toward the house, beyond Raef's earshot. He sank down, head spinning. Kemp had accused Haverford of having a black heart when he'd robbed the lord. Was Haverford really as dreadful as Raef was starting to suspect?

He found it hard to take in, after dreaming of Haverford for so many nights and seeing him entertaining that elderly lady. But he didn't want anybody to hunt down Kemp. The idea made his guts curdle, though there was little he could do 'til he got back into the sea at dawn. If he swam all day, he might make Lilhaven by nightfall, around the same time that the royal dragoons and Haverford's yeomanry cavalry were due to arrive. He must find the
Alice O'Shanty
or locate this Cecilia woman in order to warn Kemp in time.

Stephen stumbled back into the adjoining compartment. By the time Raef had his eye to the crack in the wood, Stephen had fallen sound asleep. Raef felt a twinge of sorrow for him. Stephen hadn't remembered to get his sister, and Raef fretted that Haverford would be mean to him. He pulled a face. He was falling rapidly out of love with Lord Haverford.

The notion saddened him. After the tide had washed him to the shore near Haverford's castle, their union had seemed fateful, like the mer stories of old. But goodness, the reality proved so complex that his head hurt. Stephen's gentle snores, however, made him soporific, so he buried himself beneath the straw and dozed for a while. He tried not to sleep too deeply, jolting himself every few minutes. The scratchy hay made his eyes itchy and collaborated with his omnipresent fear of discovery, making the task of wakefulness relatively easy. It was an effort not to sneeze.

After what felt like a decent rest, Raef extracted himself and went to the window. Moonlight dusted the yard, and all was silent, save the faint yapping of a hound. He yawned and stretched. Time to get back to the beach.

He tiptoed out into the yard, only to be blinded by a swinging lantern, held aloft on a pole by a tall figure coming under the arch. Raef froze. He'd timed his exit poorly. Lord Haverford was returning to spend more time with Stephen.

"Eh, eh. What have we here?" Haverford's voice sounded slurred. He plunged forward and grabbed Raef's shirt, shoving the lantern so close to Raef it scorched. "Who are you? Friend of Stephen's?"

Grasping at the lifeline, Raef nodded, wishing he could see Haverford's expression. The brightness dazzled him. Haverford didn't sound angry, though his breath reeked of liquor, coarse as that revolting substance they'd given Raef on the
Alice O'Shanty
.

"God damn it." Haverford moved the lantern aside in order to shove his face nearer. His eyes were rimmed in red, and he bore his teeth. Up close, these turned out to be less than lustrous, mottled in brown with receding gums. "You're
prettier
than his harlot of a sister." His beam grew shark-like. "That spider-shanked boy might've just saved himself from a smart hiding. What's your name?"

"Raef, my lord."