The Merman and the Barbarian Pirate (18 page)

A fleeting heartbeat later, he was relieved he'd kept his lips buttoned. He felt thrilled, sated, at home with his face buried in the crook of Kemp's neck; glad of what Kemp had just gifted him, and that Kemp had gathered pleasure, too.

But love?

No. He mustn't crave that here. But heavens, fighting the instinct to fall head over tail for Kemp was turning out to be bloody difficult.

Eleven

Raef lifted his head from Kemp's shoulder, gathering his breath. "That was…"

"Wonderful," murmured Kemp. He rubbed beneath Raef's ear, the patch of flesh where his sensitive gills appeared when he was in his mer form. Raef never knew that spot could feel so good when devoid of his fishier parts. "And this time I don't believe you're trying to rob me, though I won't think any less of you if you are."

Raef thumped Kemp softly on the chest, and Kemp's laughter vibrated through them both. Raef chuckled, too. He was sweaty and sticky with his clothes a mess, still straddling Kemp's lap. And heavens, he remained hard. So did Kemp. Soon, Raef would like to do what they'd just done all over again. He supposed it was all less special for Kemp. "I was wondering," he said, "how many lovers have you had?"

"I lost count years ago." Kemp's gaze began to wander. "And, uh, I'm sure you will one day soon."

"Maybe I will," Raef replied, as nonchalant as he dared. He slid from Kemp's lap and perched on the far end of the bunk. Kemp wiped himself off, then passed a cloth for Raef to use. Raef cleaned and adjusted his clothing while Kemp scratched his bristly chin, hunching his shoulders unevenly. He looked as unsettled as Raef suddenly felt.

Raef couldn't comprehend why. Kemp did this sort of thing all the time. Raef
was the one who stupidly wished the pleasures they'd just shared had something to do with love. Seeing as love wasn't a subject pirate captains thought about, he wasn't going to play the codfish yelling about it. Anyhow, the crew had risen and now got busy on deck. Footfalls pounded, and shouts concerning "top-gallant yards," and "foresails," broke the peace.

The morning tide pitched the ship, and there came a sharp knock on the wall. "Captain, are we to sea?" called George.

Kemp didn't reply. When George's steps pattered away, Kemp drew a rusty bolt across his cabin door. He regarded himself in a hand-held looking glass and ran a comb through his hair. Then he planted both palms on his table of charts and began to mumble inaudibly. After picking up the leather book Raef had seen him reading that first night, he slammed it back down with such force that the surface shook.

What was up with him? Mustering all his courage, Raef went over and placed his hand on Kemp's arm. "Did I do something wrong?"

Kemp pivoted about, grabbed him, and he was back on the bunk before he knew what was happening. A hot, heavy, and extremely hard pirate pinned him flat.

"I told you, I'm no hero." Kemp's hoarse words were edged with razors. "Rarely have I wanted anyone so much. If you were to let me—"

He broke off, groaning and levering himself upward, a mercy that allowed Raef to breathe. The blacks of Kemp's eyes were huge, predatory. Pain etched his countenance, tempered by the tenderness he'd laid upon Raef many times before, with both gaze and touch.

He wants … to take me. To plunder my body … to give me everything I've ever dreamed of. All I need is to say I want it.

"I came here to look at the sketch." Raef forced out the words, wriggling and fighting the instinct to submit to Kemp with everything he had. Nothing had changed between them. He was just one of many to Kemp, and that was fine. He was starting to understand his limits, too. He'd enjoyed frisking with Kemp, but didn't want to surrender his body completely to anybody less than his one true love, who would return his devotion… so why wasn't Kemp moving away? A muscle twitched along the line of Kemp's jaw. The sinews in his neck and thick arms quivered. He looked beautiful and terrible.

Raef bit his lip to prevent himself shouting his heart's desire.
Oh, gods, just take me now.

Kemp groaned and swished that lush hair back. He rolled off Raef, leaving him striving not to shake.

"Forgive me." Kemp squeezed the bridge of his nose and turned away. "Yes, you need to look at the sketch." He went to the table and took out his frustration on the papers, hurling the unwanted ones to the floor. After locating the paper they'd retrieved from the fake Lord Haverford, he waved it at Raef without looking at him. "I hope you do know this man. Though remember, in twenty-eight years, he might have changed. You're too young to have known him when it was actually drawn. Lord knows, so am I."

Somebody thumped the other side of the wall again. "Captain, the tide's good," called Peffy. "Do we make a shufti or don't we?"

"Hold onto your periwigs," muttered Kemp. He picked up Haverford's waistcoat from the back of the chair, tossed it to Raef, then unbolted the door and left.

Raef put on the waistcoat and sunk into the chair. He was unable to focus on the portrait. He couldn't fathom the meaning of what had just happened, other than that Kemp desired him, which was pleasing. But no long-term good could come of being coveted by a man who gave everything away, or who he'd have to share. He'd already let things go too far. He stared at the book Kemp had thrown down, frowning so hard his brow throbbed. He wished for distraction, and curiosity spiked, so he picked up the book and opened it. Fingermarks smudged the yellow pages, which contained verses written in flowery language too complicated for him to get his head around.

One word kept leaping out at him, however.

Love.

Eh?

Kemp had a book of love poems.

Raef wrinkled his nose. This wasn't logical at all. After all, Kemp didn't think about love and certainly not that singular devotion to the exclusion of all others that Raef ultimately sought. As he flicked, the book fell open on a well-thumbed page. A collection of lines jumped out, beside which somebody had penciled an
X
.

If it be sinne to love a sweet-fac'd boy,
Whose amber locks trust up in golden tramels
Dangle adowne his lovely cheekes with joy,
When pearle and flowers his faire haire enamels;
If it be sinne to love a lovely lad,
Oh then sinne I, for whom my soul is sad.

Raef read the last couplet over several times. It reminded him of traditional mer love songs, which Galyna had banned, along with so much else Raef enjoyed. It pierced his soul. He licked lips that still tasted of their kiss and resolved when the time was right, he must ask Kemp why
X
marked this particular spot. When Kemp said he didn't think about love… could he be lying?

Out on deck, Kemp barked, "Take the wheel, Peffy." Raef quickly shoved the book aside, forced a scowl, and examined the sketch. He was pondering it when Kemp came back in.

"Any luck?" asked Kemp, windswept, his shirt hanging open to the waist.

"I'm not sure."

Kemp leaned close over Raef, who forced himself to concentrate on the sketch, especially those jutting brows, and that mouth with its pouting ledge of a lower lip.

"I
do
know this face," said Raef, "but I can't remember where I've seen it, which is odd. It's not like I've met many humans, and this certainly isn't one of the merfolk." He dredged his brains. Maybe it was one of the fishermen or a worker on Haverford's estate. "You're right about time taking its toll. Whoever it is, I'm sure their face has changed since this picture was sketched. They weren't like this when I saw them, or—" Raef struck the table. "Of course."

 "You remember?"

"The face is on the cliff," said Raef, and Kemp blinked, puzzled. "I know every inch of this shoreline, where the rocks are striped, where they're clean as cut crystal, where there are patterns. And that's where I've seen this face. In a cove south of Lilhaven where not even you could dock safely. But the rocks have crumbled, so now where there was almost a smile there's a grimace." Raef pulled a face, mimicking the gruesome expression. "So this
is
a map after all. The cave must be there."

Kemp clapped his shoulder and laughed. "You're brilliant. You really should join us. In fact, I won't take no for an answer." Kemp squeezed harder, possessive, and Raef couldn't bring himself to argue. "We've got to head up the Bristol Channel tonight, to pick up a couple of lads we dropped ashore there, but we'll sail straight to this cove after that. You'll stay with us 'til then?"

Raef offered the faintest nod. Before he could gather his thoughts—let alone push the topic of conversation toward poetry—Kemp was back on deck, flinging instructions at his crew. "Unfurl the jib. No time for dawdling. We've got to catch that wind, fly south, then turnabout fast. The treasure's in our grasp."

"So where will we sling our hook once we've retrieved the boys?" asked George.

"Back at our hidey-hole near Lilhaven," replied Kemp. "Raef and I will take the cliff path, then do a little climbing. He's a talented treasure hunter."

Raef sidled to the cabin doorway, hesitating as every crewmember save Kemp, who'd retaken the wheel, drilled him with silent questions. Some looked irritated, mayhap because he'd been selected for this mission, but George hailed him from the rigging near the foremast. Raef waved shyly back. He ought to tell Kemp that he didn't think climbing would be the best way to get to the cove, but decided to save it for later.

When Kemp looked over his shoulder, he offered a ravishing smile. "Ah, Raef. We'll make anchor at dusk, so we've a day at sea, then the night and all the morrow. Just enough time to make
you
the perfect pirate."

Raef nodded, not wanting to displease. His unease veered back double-fold. If Kemp wanted him to be a pirate, Kemp would be disappointed. Pirates might not be the evil kluggites Raef had thought them, but that didn't mean he wished to join their ranks.

Nevertheless, jumping around the deck learning to handle a pistol and a cutlass was fun, as was his swift education in breaking out of jails. Raef proved particularly good at lock-picking. He used a shard of broken shell to get a feel for the internal mechanism of a rusty old padlock they'd attached to the ship's rail. When the lock opened and fell to the scrubbed boards with a clatter, the crew applauded and cheered.

"I could've done with this skill to get me out of Haverford's game larder," he told Kemp. He winced at the unhappy memory. For most of the day, however, he allowed himself to follow Kemp's lead and enjoy himself. The ocean remained calm, and the clouds cast liquid shadows that flitted over the decks and shaded them from the sun's dazzle, while Kemp taught him to throw his fists and duck a punch.

"Never be scared to kick a chap in the bollocks." Kemp planted himself in front of Raef, arms folded and shoulders squared. "A low blow is as good as any when you're up against it. Now you take a swing and I'll show you." He winked. "Don't worry. I'll be gentle."

"Will you, indeed?" Raef drew back as if to feign a punch, grabbed Kemp, and jammed a knee upward between his legs. Raef pulled back at the last instant before impact, just as Kemp blanched. It was Raef's turn to wink. "I've already worked that one out."

 "You
are
a natural." An easy smile played at the corners of Kemp's mouth. "Now get out of this one, matey."

Kemp whirled Raef about, pulled Raef flat to his body. Before Raef could squeak, Kemp had him slammed to the deck face-first, pinning every part of him with a colossal pressure. "And what would you do now, pretty boy?"

Kemp's breaths scorched Raef's throat and sent blood shooting straight to his groin. He squirmed, scrubbing the curves of his arse against Kemp's loins. Kemp growled. Raef perceived him harden and nearly screamed,
Plunder me!
Rip my clothes off with your teeth!
Instead, sensing Kemp's bruising grip about his wrists lessening, he jammed his elbow back, rolled free, and jumped up.

"Oooomph." Kemp was on his knees, rubbing his stomach, one brow arched. "You certainly know how to take advantage of a fellow. I said you were a natural pirate." Raef's proud smile faltered. Kemp climbed to his feet. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," said Raef. "I-I just think you might be wrong about me, that's all."

"How so?" Kemp brushed his clothes with those large, sinewy hands. He looked breathless and sweaty and so gorgeous that Raef's mouth went dry as summer sand.

There was much Raef needed to say, but he couldn't. He didn't want to spoil this precious time together, because being with Kemp
did
feel natural to him. None of these human activities were. They could be occasional diversions for him, but not his continual way of life. Moreover, he didn't understand why Kemp was taking such pleasure shaping him in a pirate's image. Kemp couldn't want to keep him for long. Kemp never kept anything for long.

"It's not important," said Raef. Kemp's enquiring gaze captured his, launching his mind into tumult. He grabbed words from the ether. "Um, may I call you Jon?"