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Heath searched her eyes, his expression sympathetic. “You’ve always seemed incredibly resilient about growing up without parents,” he said. “But you are allowed to be upset about it, you know.”
Merletta’s laugh was hollow. “Being upset about it never did anyone any good at the charity home.”
“But you’re not at the home now,” Heath said. “You’re with me. I’m not looking for a way to get the upper hand over you. You’re safe.”
Merletta was silent for a moment. She’d forgotten just how much she’d told Heath about life at the charity home. His words meant more than he could imagine, but if she was going to get through the explanation he’d asked for, she couldn’t afford to get sentimental before she even started.
“I honestly didn’t think I minded about being an orphan when I started the program,” she told him. “I was used to it, and I think I felt that my disadvantages made me tougher, and harder to subdue. And they did. But that was when I still saw myself as an outsider. Now I have friends at the Center, and I wish…” She swallowed, finding it hard to admit her thoughts, even to herself. “Well, I wish I could be part of the world they live in. I wish I could have a place there.”
“You do have a place there,” Heath protested. “One you’ve fought very hard to achieve, and should never be ashamed to claim.” When she didn’t answer, he frowned. “Did something happen, Merletta?”
“I just put my fins in it, that’s all,” Merletta said, trying to speak lightly. “Even though I’ve been staying with Sage’s family for three weeks, I didn’t understand the culture in Skulssted, and I made a rather humiliating blunder this morning.” She groaned softly. “Poor Andre.”
“Andre? What does he have to do with it?”
Merletta grimaced. “I sort of accidentally asked him to ask me to be his sweetheart.”
“What?!” Heath started visibly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “I mean…how did…what does that mean?”
Merletta cringed all over again at the memory. “It means I’m an uncultured Tilssted-dweller, that’s all. Andre isn’t interested in me that way, any more than I am in him. I didn’t realize that’s what I was asking, and he was too chivalrous to explain it, or reject me outright.”
“Chivalrous, is he? Which one is Andre, again?” Heath’s voice was much too casual.
Merletta chuckled, her mortification softened by her amusement at Heath’s obvious alarm. “You seem a little put out, Heath,” she commented innocently.
He narrowed his eyes, clearly sensing that she was teasing him. But when he spoke, his voice was perfectly serious.
“I am put out. I don’t like the idea of Andre asking you to be his sweetheart. I thought…well, I thought maybe…someone else had that role.”
“Does someone else want it?” Merletta asked quietly, her heart picking up speed again.
Heath shifted forward, leaning down so that his elbows rested on his knees, and his face wasn’t far above Merletta’s.
“Do you really need me to answer that? Maybe I dreamed what happened last time we spoke?”
Merletta leaned up, straightening her arms so that she lifted further out of the water. Heath’s eyes were drawn to the movement, his gaze following a droplet as it ran down her arm and into the lagoon. Then his eyes traveled slowly back to her face, and the look in their depths sent heat racing through her.
“I’ve sometimes wondered if it was a dream,” she said, her voice not much above a whisper. “But it certainly felt real to me.”
Slowly, lingeringly, Heath lifted his hand and touched a thumb to her cheek. His touch was like the searing heat of a thermal vent. It had been intoxicating when he’d held her in his arms the last time. But on that occasion, she’d been on land, walking on her legs. This time she was in her mermaid form, and the combination of Heath’s warm human skin and the chill that came inevitably with her scales was electrifying. Surely it hadn’t been like this every time their hands had casually brushed back when they first knew each other, before she’d discovered the truth about drying out.
But back then, Heath hadn’t been to her what he was now.
Everything. He was everything.
With his eyes holding hers, and his hand still on her cheek, she lost herself completely, sure in that instant that she could—and gladly would—turn her tail on the triple kingdoms and swim away forever. Let someone else worry about the corruption, and the lies, and the danger.
She pushed herself up on her hands, and Heath responded immediately, leaning down toward her, his eyes on her lips. A thrill went over her at the knowledge that he didn’t even care that she was in mermaid form. He wanted to be with her, exactly as she was. She closed her own eyes in anticipation, feeling the warmth of Heath’s breath the moment before their lips brushed.
“Merletta?”
The astonished voice broke into Merletta’s moment of abandon, and she pulled back, her eyes flying open. Griffin was standing near the lagoon’s edge, his eyes wide and—strangely—a little angry as they darted between her and Heath.
“Griffin,” she gasped. “I didn’t realize you were on the island.”
“Evidently.” Griffin sounded disapproving, his eyes settling again on Heath.
Merletta looked at Heath as well. Although he met her eyes, his breath was a little uneven, and he didn’t seem quite his usual collected self. The promise of the abortive kiss hung in the air between them, and with Griffin clearly inclined to hover, there was no hope of clearing it.
