From The Deep Read online

  She pulled a large fan shaped leaf from a nearby bush and propped it so it would cover his face should she still be gone when he awoke. Then she turned her attention to the edge of the forest. She was sure she’d heard a quiet gurgle somewhere nearby that had nothing to do with the ocean. Skirting the low growing bushes, she followed the sound until the cool darkness surrounded her.

  * * * *

  He dreamed of creamy skinned sea maidens with long dark hair. Their tails wrapped around him with languid heat. Their voices sang in his ears, arousing him with the words and the touch of bubbles along the sensitive ridges of his neck. Warmth engulfed him as lust caused a flame in his groin. Then he was hot, heated unpleasantly. Desire fled with the feeling of flames licking at his body. He couldn’t breathe; there was no water, no life.

  A cold splash hit his face and he awoke. No sex-starved mermaids revolved around him. Instead his eyes beheld a creature with two legs clothed in transparent white. Her dark hair curled to her waist and gleamed with blue highlights. A slight frown marred the brow between her wide-set green eyes.

  “Are you all right?” the vision asked.

  He knew her, but he just couldn’t place her. He motioned her closer.

  She knelt beside him, her breasts heavy against the wet fabric, the nipples hard and thrusting towards him. When she next spoke, her lips, pouty and pink, moved slowly as if she were talking to a nursling not to the Prince of the Sea.

  “Captain, would you like more water?”

  She put out a hand to touch his face. He grabbed it and pulled her so that she tumbled across him. Every instinct told him that this female was his, for him. He trusted his instincts; they’d saved his life more than once in this strange world above the water. So he reached with both arms until she lay across him. He had to taste her mouth. He was sure his life depended on it.

  She struggled briefly. When he finally had a taste of her he knew he’d never have enough. She was high tide and tsunami and warm ocean currents all rolled into one delicious package. Jonah deepened his kiss, felt his erection throb, and knew he would have her–-“Stop.” She shoved away from him.

  When he reached for her again she slapped his hands away. Confusion suffused him until her next words.

  “I see that you’re well awake, Captain McAdams. I’ll ask you to keep your hands off me from now on.”

  Memory returned. He groaned. Damnation, he’d been carrying out his lusty desires with Mrs. Shore, his unlucky passenger. Rather, he’d tried to carry out his lusty desires. He sat and rolled his muscles as he considered what had not just happened. Human females were unable to resist him. It was a fact. Yet this one had.

  She stood, arms akimbo, a dolphin’s length from him, her eyes glinting like an angry storm.

  “I thank you for swimming to my rescue last night, but that gives you no right to paw me in such a way,” she stated flatly, but he saw how her bosom heaved and her cheeks remained flushed.

  She was not unaffected by his kiss.

  “I was unaware of what I was doing, Mrs. Shore.” Dizziness assailed him as he tried to stand. He blinked and saw the fallen leaf with droplets of water. “Did you find fresh water?”

  “Yes, a few yards into the woods, a stream runs from a small spring.”

  He rose to his feet, swayed a bit then stood firm. She had come closer but remained more than an arm’s distance away.

  “Is there nothing better than a leaf to carry water?” he asked looking around the beach and the nearby edge of the wood.

  “I was in a hurry. You were so hot and I just wanted to cool you. That was the best I could do.” Now her arms were crossed over her chest, her voice low.

  The sun shone behind her through the thin layer of cloth. The sweet curves of her body were outlined like a statue but he knew how softly rounded they were. Jonah suppressed a groan and wished he could dive into the cool ocean to drive away the desire that kept piercing him at unexpected intervals. Thus was the case after he transformed into human form, the need to bury himself in a woman. When it had been necessary before there’d been a willing lass from a tavern. This time, all that was available to him was a lady for whom he felt a measure of responsibility.

  He stood and focused on the discomfort that touched other parts of his body. His trousers had torn at the seams when he’d hit the water last night. They hung in tatters now but there was naught that could be done for that. The burn of scraped flesh on his legs had him pulling the cloth away to look. Several long gashes showed against his pale skin.

  “Oh,” Marianne gasped. She’d turned her head away by the time he looked up at her.

  “I didn’t realize you were injured,” she said, keeping a hand up to her eyes.

  Jonah grinned. Apparently the sight of a man’s bare legs discomforted the lady. “I thank you for pulling me away from the tide. These scratches are nothing.” He let the fabric swing back across his legs. “You can look now.”

  Her cheeks flamed pink but she took her hand away. “We should get more water to bathe those wounds,” she said. “It’s this way.” She turned towards the woods but stumbled and limped before she went three paces.

  “Hold up.” Jonah walked to her and looked at her feet. They were red. “Sit,” he ordered.

  She sank to the sand, pulling her gown over her knees and tugging it as far down her legs as she could manage. When Jonah took one of her feet in his hands, she gasped again. He glanced at the sole and saw scratches and cuts from where she’d stepped on sticks or rocks or shells. It must hurt like the dickens. When he glanced at her face she had her lower lip between her teeth, her eyes huge.

  “You sustained injuries, too, Mrs. Shore. Let me try to fashion some protection for these dainty feet before we go wandering into the bush.”

  She nodded. He lowered her foot to the ground but couldn’t bring himself to let it go right away. It was delicately shaped with a high arch and toes shaped like sea petals. He stroked it and her toes splayed as she tried to pull away. He held tighter when he saw tiny, vestigial extensions of skin between her toes. It reminded him of the slight webbing between his digits when in human form. He enjoyed the feel of her skin in his hands, the tugging just made him want to hold on longer, but he finally let her go.

  “You must not touch me in such a manner,” her breathless voice said.

  Jonah rocked back on his heels and watched her cover her legs again. “In what manner would that be?”

  “That, touching my feet like that. It’s quite improper.” She pursed her lips.

  “More improper than kissing you?” His body tightened.

  She drew herself up as straight as she could in her position. “I expect you to treat me with the same respect that you would if we were on ship, Captain McAdams.”

  “Madam, we are on a deserted island. I ascertained that before we reached shore last night. In order to survive we’ll have to work together and respect each other.”

  She frowned. “How do you know this is an island? I had planned to walk around the beach in a bit, after I knew you were going to be all right, to see if I could find a settlement of some type.”

  “You forget, I know these waters like I have a chart in my head. The current pulled us far from the shore of the mainland. I assure you, this is an island. And the last I knew of it, no humans had settled here.”

  “So we are truly marooned?”

  “So it would seem.”

  “That is quite unacceptable.”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  He laughed. “Didn’t you hear me say we were in this together? What are we going to do about it?”

  She gnawed on her lower lip again. He sensed that her imperious attitude hid an underlying current of fear but he admired the way that she kept it from breaking forth. Hysterical females were anathema to him.

  “We need a plan,” she said after a while.

  “Why don’t we start with protecting our feet and finding that little
spring of yours? I’m sure you are quite as thirsty as I.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Water first, then shelter, then perhaps we can think of a way to catch a fish.”

  He reached to help her stand. Her cool stare before she put her hand in his served as a reminder that he shouldn’t become too familiar with her. He grinned as he tugged her to stand next to him. Curiosity overcame him. He looked at her tiny hand, spread her fingers. There, again, the faintest of signs of webbing between the fingers.

  Just who was this woman?

  Chapter Five

  From strips of bark and slender vines Jonah managed to fashion protection for their feet so that they could go to and from the little spring. Using broad leaves they managed to scoop enough fresh water to slake their thirst. Marianne rubbed her face vigorously with the tepid moisture, glad for even the hint of refreshment and cooling of her cheeks.

  Her nightgown had finally dried but she couldn’t forget the way Jonah had stared at her when he’d just awoken, to say nothing of the strength of his arms and the tenderness of his kiss.

  That she was attracted to him could no longer be denied. He wasn’t the enigmatic and distant ship’s captain today. Today they were on more equal footing, both survivors of a shipwreck with nothing more than the clothes on their backs.

  Her stomach gurgled, reminding her that while water was necessary for life, food was also required. She’d made a visual inspection of some of the plants growing in the forest, having been taught by her nanny on Jamaica what roots and berries might be safe to eat. There was one bush that looked like the same plant she knew of on her own island that had edible roots. They had to be well roasted, she recalled, and they were tasteless, but would fill the void in her belly. Unfortunately they weren’t yet far enough south for the mangoes and papayas of her youth. Just thinking of the sweet juicy fruits made her mouth water.

  She surveyed the horizon again from the spot they had claimed as their camp where the beach met the forest. Just the shimmering, ever changing movement of the sea met her eyes. But the sea held bounty. If they could get a fire going….

  “Do you think you could catch a fish?” she asked Captain McAdams.

  He snorted from where he stood stripping leaves off another vine.

  “Is that a yes or a no?” Marianne persisted.

  “With my bare hands?”

  “Of course not.” She looked around on the ground and spied a long, rather straight branch of wood. “Here, we can use a stone to put a point on this. You could spear a fish.”

  “Could I?” His green eyes stared into hers.

  “The least you could do is try.”

  He shook his head. “No, I will not go into the sea again.”

  “Why not? You swam like one of those dolphins last night. Surely you aren’t afraid.”

  “You saw me swimming last night?” His voice sharpened, his hands stilled.

  “Yes. At least, well, it must have been you, mustn’t it? I mean.” She pulled a hand through her unruly curls as she remembered. “I was sinking, almost giving up, but there you were, swimming towards me quite quickly.” She didn’t mention his undulating motion or the fact that she’d imagined a tail. After all, she had almost drowned. Her mind must have tricked her into thinking she saw something that just couldn’t be.

  “Just so,” Jonah said. “I wish I had as much faith in me as you do, madam. It was luck that had me moored to a barrel and luck that had you go down close enough for me to grab you. As for the rest, I’d just put it out of your mind. Sailors abhor swimming.”

  “Yes.” Marianne tapped a finger against her lips. “What happened to the barrel?”

  “What?”

  “The barrel, you said you had grabbed hold of a barrel. Lucky for both of us or we would not have made it this far. I did not see a barrel when I awoke. It would be handy to have, don’t you think?”

  “Aye, but I must have let go of it when the surf brought us onto the beach.”

  Marianne ran her fingers through her hair again, divided it and began to plait it. That was better, at least it wasn’t a tangled mess hanging down to her waist anymore, but she wished for a comb or a brush. “Back to the matter of food.”

  “I’ll not go swimming for fishes, madam. But I did spy mussels clinging to the lee of a boulder down the beach. The tide is out and the shellfish can be eaten without cooking.”

  “Ugh, no thanks. See if you can build a fire, not only will it cook the mussels, but will serve as a beacon to any ships passing by.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She frowned at his impertinence. “I’ll gather some mussels and seaweed and see what else I can find to eat.” She turned away, and then had a thought. “Do you know where we are, besides on an island, that is?”

  “I have given it some thought.”

  “Care to share your thoughts?” She couldn’t help the sarcastic tone. At times the man infuriated her.

  “No, I don’t care to, but I will just the same. Look.” He smoothed the sand in front of him and used a stick to make some lines that Marianne saw was a crude map.

  “We made good time with a following sea and winds to send us racing against them for three days. We would have been about here.” He put an X on the map.

  “I know little of the coast of America,” Marianne admitted. “I grew up in Jamaica. I was brought to Nantucket as a bride only two and a half years ago.”

  He stared at her, opened his mouth as if to speak, and then put his attention back to the sand. “Here is where the current has brought us, though I know of no island in this part of the sea. I was headed for the mainland.”

  “How could you know in which direction to swim? ‘Twas deep night with only the stars for company.”

  Humor sat in his eyes when he stared this time. “A good sailor needs only the stars to steer by, madam. I am better than good.”

  “If you are so good, then why didn’t you know about that tempest that hit us?” she shot back.

  “Why indeed?” He rubbed his head. At last he stood, brushing the map into oblivion with a swift movement of his feet. “The tide has turned, madam. If you hope to pry those mussels off the rock without another soaking, I suggest you make haste.”

  Marianne shook free of her reverie and started down the beach again. “A fire, Captain McAdams,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ll not eat raw mussels today.”

  “Aye, aye,” she heard him say, followed by a low laugh that sent shivers up her spine.

  Her fingers were raw by the time she’d pulled enough mussels from the rocks to make a meal. They’d held tight to their anchor. It took longer than she thought it would. By the time she filled her skirt the sea was lapping against her knees. She was soaked through and hot and would give anything to take a dip in the cool waves.

  That path led to danger, though. Her father always kept her as far from the sea as he could because of her grandmother. From the small coffee plantation in the mountains they had a view of the sea. Marianne remembered many hours sitting in the topmost chamber of their home and staring at the ever changing blues and the sparkles like diamonds of the water as the wind and waves touched it. Then there was the one and only time she’d been allowed to visit the shore. It had nearly ended in disaster.

  She wouldn’t think of that now. The faint scent of wood smoke made her nostrils twitch. At last, something had gone well. The captain had found a way to make a fire.

  She looked down at her wet gown. No doubt, with the dirt and the mussels and the tear along her thigh she looked more like a wicked woman than a staid widow. The memory of the captain’s strong hands on her made her belly tighten. She’d best walk slowly back to the camp in order to give her clothing a chance to dry and her thoughts a chance to cool.

  * * * *

  Jonah waited until Marianne was far down the beach before building the fire. He gathered dry wood and tinder and felt in his pocket for the flint he usually kept there. Gone, not surprising considering the state of his clo
thing. He had two choices, to create fire the hard way with wood and friction and hours of time accompanied by the inevitable chafing and damage to his hands, or to use the magic that was his by right.

  It didn’t take him long to decide. With a word and the expenditure of energy he ignited a small flame then sat down to feed it and to think while Marianne was nowhere near him. He found her too much of a distraction.

  He glanced towards the sea and was pleased to see a family of dolphins swimming beyond the breakers. They called to him, invited him to come and swim and play, but that would have to wait for later. He sent one high pitched whistle to let them know, then settled in with his thoughts.

  Thoughts of confusion, because he’d been caught off guard last night by the rogue wind and waves. His sea sense had never failed him and his was stronger by far than most denizens of the deep because of his heritage. Descendents of the first sea king were gifted with remarkable powers of intuition and foreknowledge of the workings of weather and tide and the doings of the creatures of the sea.

  He should have known about the wave.

  Something had blocked his reasoning. The dolphins always kept him informed of such matters, too, but they had shared no news of imminent rogue waves. Their news had been the same old messages from his father and mother.

  The requests to return home before the next full moon had become more urgent.

  It was time for him to choose a consort and focus on the many layers and depths of the kingdom over which he would someday rule. If he didn’t return before the next full moon, he never could. He’d have legs and feet and lungs that breathed air and the miniscule lifetime of a man.

  Intolerable, of course. He would also be vulnerable to human emotions. Most of his kind were interested only in pleasure. Their main emotions were those of desire and occasional jealousy. Some of the emotions that Jonah had witnessed in humans were not shared by the people of the sea. Love, for example, and compassion, two strong emotions that Jonah had witnessed time and again.