Page 29 of Nyall

Then, too, were the dreams that had come to him of late. He saw himself in a dozen strange seas, always near drowning before a golden-haired female merrow with strange eyes found him, and saved him. Indeed, she’d held him and kissed him like a lover before the beast poured out of him and took her instead. Night after night Shaw woke with the taste of that wench on his lips, as if she had in truth come to his bed. Yet if he spoke of such to Merrick, the king would think his mind slipping.

That left the only other concern that kept Shaw alive.

“When that facking bitch Derdrui finds Caladh, and she shall, I reckon, you and my brother shall need release the plague inside me. ’Tis enough to vanquish even a Fae enchantress as powerful as she.” Shaw met the king’s gaze, and let a little of the beast show in his eyes. “And any who stand in my way.”

Merrick nearly recoiled before he caught himself. “You’re a heartless bastart.”

“Indeed, and a terror beyond your imagining,” Shaw agreed. “The Pritani marched me into battle with them, until word spread of my arm, and their enemies ran at the very sight of me.” He hated those memories even more than the blood-drenched ones. “Some caught between the tribe’s lines fell on their blades rather than face me.”

The king sighed. “Then you must do as you reckon best. For my part, I shall keep my word.”

He checked the fish, and offered one to him. “Have some sea trout. ’Tis better cooked than raw.”

Chapter Nine

Living on Caladh grew a little easier for Caroline, although over the next several weeks she had to make far more compromises than she wanted. She stayed as a guest at the castle, but spent as much time away from the stronghold as she could. With Shaw gone she relaxed a little more, as the other men of the clan seemed normal, relatively speaking. Thanks to Lark she assembled a small wardrobe to wear when she wasn’t diving, and the clan’s cobbler made her a very nice pair of fur-lined hide boots that actually fit her. She kept her word to Nyall, and never ventured out beyond the shallows in the bay, although the underwater beauty that surrounded the island often tempted her to break that promise.

Every time she submerged she took a few moments to admire the clear waters and abundance of sea life in it. She’d rarely worked in such pristine conditions, and the bounty and variety of fish alone stunned her. From the vibrant colors of the coral in the reef, which stretched for miles around the island, the sea here had never been tainted with any garbage, sewage or other pollutants.

This is what my world would look like if we’d never dumped anything in the oceans.

She had plenty of opportunities to work every day. She and Brochan soon became fast friends, especially when she began delivering in quantity the shellfish he liked for his dishes.

“You’ve fisher’s blood in you, lass,” the cook said as he admired the basket of oysters she brought back for him after discovering a new, untouched bed beyond the tide pools. “I’ve never had better. Kai, fetch fresh water from the well—and dinnae ask Worth for aid, lest he knock you in.”

The young man with the mismatched eyes came over for two buckets, giving Caroline a shy smile as he passed her.

“Dinnae even dream, my lad,” Brochan scolded him before he regarded her. “Now you may ask whatever you wish of me, and I shall make such yours.” He waggled his brows. “Even myself, if you desire. I’ve no wife, you ken.”

The clan’s cook should have been Greek, Caroline thought. If not for Nyall and Jamaran she’d even be tempted to have a fling with the big man.

“I appreciate that, and I wish you luck in the wife department, but what I really need now is a conditioner for my wet suit.” She explained how it would preserve the material as well as make it easier for her to put on and take off before she said, “Soap doesn’t work on neoprene. What I’m looking for is something naturally oily to clean and protect both sides of the material, and that won’t irritate my arms and legs where my rash guard doesn’t cover me. Nothing rendered from animal fat, though—that always makes me itch.”

“You dinnae seem so delicate,” the cook said, eyeing her suit.

She smiled and cupped her face with her hands. “Underneath this suit, I’m just a fragile little flower.”

Brochan snorted. “Aye, right. Dinnae tempt me prove you wrong, wench. You’ll want my blackening oil, I’ll wager.” He went to one of his shelves and took down a huge lidded pot, and opened it to show the golden liquid inside. “’Tis pressed from seeds of the rapum flower. I rub the stuff on my iron pots after I clean them. ’Twillnae likely cause a rash. Only take care to use the stuff cold. When heated, ’twill make you stink of moldy cabbage.”

She grinned. “Good tip, thanks.”

After returning from his cross-island trip, Fletcher introduced himself to her, and offered to provide whatever she needed to make her stay at the castle more comfortable. Caroline became a bit bemused by Lark’s tall, handsome husband, whom she liked right away. With his warm golden eyes, big build and deep voice, he seemed like way more man than the shy little seamstress could handle. She revised that opinion when she caught a glimpse of them kissing in the seneschal’s work room, just before Fletcher kicked the door shut and dropped the bar. A few seconds later Lark let out a throaty moan, and her husband said something that even made Caroline blush before she quickly walked away.

Whew. Those two are almost too hot to handle.

She occasionally saw the laird and his wife, but Valerie’s careful smiles and Connal’s sharp looks made Caroline nervous, so she kept things with them to waves and simple greetings. Valerie didn’t bother her, although she’d seen her talking with Lark a few times and wondered if she was pumping the seamstress for information. The laird mentioned once in passing that he was looking for a vacant cottage for her, and if he couldn’t find one he’d have one built.

Then there were her two guys, both of whom had made themselves scarce.

Although she was hoping to see Jamaran, he had yet to make an appearance since their night of drinking at the spring. She did notice some aquatics surfacing briefly now and then far out in the bay, but none with white hair. Asking Nyall about him proved impossible, as she rarely saw the captain these days, and when she did he always seemed busy with his men—or he was doing whatever he could to avoid her.

Either way, it seemed for the best. The last thing she needed was to get attached to either of them—and yet they constantly stayed in her thoughts.

The king of the Finfolk showed up one afternoon when Caroline was exploring the outermost tide pools to see what they contained. The moment she saw his tall, imposing figure wading out of the water, and the crown of violet-gold metal he wore, she guessed he was Merrick. Rather than wait, she walked over to him, taking in his ridiculously handsome features and stunning eyes.

“I’m Caroline. You’re King Merrick?” When he nodded she held out her gathering basket. “Want some oysters? They’re really fresh.”

Merrick laughed. “I thank you no, lass. They never set well on my belly. Mayhap as they remind me more of snot than food.” He looked over her wet suit. “I do like your garment very much. ’Tisnae made from whale-killer hide?”