Читать книгу Caught By Surprise - Sandra Paul, Sandra Paul - Страница 11

Yep, if anyone knew about mermaids she did, Beth reflected the next day as she sat in the shadows at the top of the staircase in the hold. Everything from the Disney classic to ancient texts of mermaid lore. In fact, due to her father’s obsession, she’d probably be considered an expert on the subject.

As a child she’d listened for hours as—minute detail by detail—he’d recited the descriptions of the sea people documented by the Roman historian Pliny the Elder. Or reviewed aloud the eyewitness account given by the esteemed Bishop Pontoppidan of Norway, who vouched for a mermaid netted at Hordaland in Bergen Fjord.

She knew that a Greek named Alexander had been the first to describe a mermaid complete with a fish tail—reportedly a lovely creature who burst into tears when a curious crowd examined her, then dived back into the water, yelling unintelligible curses as she swam off. And as a teenager Beth had practically memorized the stories about the fifty beautiful daughters of Nereus, a god of the sea. Apparently, they rode the waves on the backs of dolphins, and had many fantastic adventures.

Yes, she’d heard them all—fables of sea sirens who saved ships or foretold the future or lured sailors to a watery grave. Stories of mermaids with green hair, or feathers, or scales they could remove when they wanted to live on land but had to wear when they returned to the water. She knew legends of potent mariners who’d married mermaids and went on to found dynasties of great navigators because, after all, who would know the sea better than the creatures who lived there?

How fiercely she’d longed as a little girl to actually see one of the lovely, mystical beings. And how she’d wished, even more desperately in recent years, for some proof that her father wasn’t completely delusional.

Well, now she had it—both her wishes granted in the form of one restless bundle of male energy trapped in the tank below. Be careful what you wish for, she thought wryly.

She stifled a sigh. As she shifted to ease the numbness in her bottom caused by sitting so long on the metal step, her hand brushed a sticky patch on the railing by her side. Making a face at the machine oil on her fingers, she bent over to try to wipe it off on the metal step at her feet. She probably had it all over her jeans and red silk shirt, she thought in disgust. The light was so shadowy at the top of these stairs.

She’d lurked in the dimness for over two hours now, unnoticed by the men below. Which was exactly what she wanted. She didn’t plan to interfere—or even make her presence known. She hadn’t even intended to come watch. Her instincts kept telling her to get as far from the merman as she possibly could yet, at the same time, she hadn’t been able to stay away.

A fearful curiosity was part of what drew her back, she admitted silently to herself. The same kind of feeling that caused people to slow down and gawk at the scene of a car accident. Or pick up the National Enquirer to read about the latest sighting of fanny-faced aliens landing in the Arizona desert.

But even more than any of that was the disquiet she still felt. An odd niggling uneasiness that just refused to disappear. Worry for the people around the merman; and a bit of worry for the merman himself.

Not that she’d seen any evidence to support either. As he’d said, all that Ralph and his two helpers did was watch the merman swim endlessly around the tank. Beth kept watching too, but like the previous day, she wasn’t able to see much from the staircase. Just an occasional glimpse of a dark head, or flash of a golden tail fin, flipping up through the foaming water. But even those brief glimpses made her breath catch and her heartbeat quicken. Fish mentality or not, the merman was definitely a fascinating creature. She could hardly look away.

Ralph didn’t take his eyes off him, either. Her father’s assistant had changed from his dress shirt and slacks into a set of work clothes he kept in a small supply behind the stairs. Dressed all in black—shirt, pants and even shoes—he stood on the wooden platform built out over the tank. Hands behind his back, rocking on his heels every now and then, Ralph kept turning to keep the merman in sight. Like the ringmaster in a circus, Beth mused. The effect was heightened by the light shining down on him from the porthole above.

Unlike Ralph, the Delano brothers stood in the shadows, well back from the tank. They were watching the merman, too, Beth noticed, as she glanced their way. She studied them, wondering what they thought of the creature they’d helped capture. She certainly couldn’t tell much from their expressions. Ralph had once told her the men were twins, but beyond having the same olive-toned skin and dark hair, the brothers didn’t look much alike.

Small and wiry, Little Dougie Delano’s shrewd expression and quick movements—not to mention his long pointed nose and buck teeth—gave him an unfortunate resemblance to a rat. Standing next to his brother, Big Mike appeared as huge and stolid as a baby elephant. Legs spread, slowly swaying back and forth, he stared at the tank with his mouth agape, dull surprise briefly lighting his fleshy face every time the merman passed.

Around and around the merman kept swimming, without any noticeable decrease in the speed or power he’d displayed from the start. Fifteen more minutes slipped by. Thirty. Beth was just thinking that the merman would swim endlessly, when Ralph gave a shout.

“He’s tiring, boys! Get ready to get to work.”

Unconsciously, Beth stiffened, leaning forward. At first, she thought Ralph was mistaken. The current was still whirling at a fantastic rate, lapping now and again over the side of the tank or up onto the low wooden platform to trickle beneath Ralph’s shoes. But as she strained forward to see, she suddenly realized the water was slowing. The merman, rather than pushing it along, now merely appeared to be floating with the current, the motion of his arms and tail sporadic, and frighteningly weaker.

Even so he was obviously alert enough to avoid the side of the pool where the Delano brothers stood. The brothers were lowering a slatted crate that vaguely resembled some kind of lobster trap into the water. Once they had the box in place, they picked up long, sharp poles and began herding the merman inside.

The merman refused to cooperate. Time after time he’d appear about to enter the crate, only to slip away at the last possible moment. For over an hour the game continued. Big Mike stayed in one place stabbing steadily, if ineffectually at the water, while Little Dougie chased about the perimeter, trying without success to prod the merman in the correct direction.

Obviously exasperated, Ralph had quickly grabbed a pole, too. From the platform, he tried to block their quarry from swimming from one end of the tank to the other, but the merman evaded the poles with seemingly little effort, almost appearing to taunt the men at times with a lazy flick of his tail before he agilely darted away.

Biting her lip, Beth remained resolutely at her vantage point, even though several of the jabs Ralph and Little Dougie directed toward the merman were vicious enough to make her wince. Ralph had told her father he’d be putting the merman in a smaller cage, and she could see he’d need to do so in order to get closer.

But then Ralph threw down his pole. “This is asinine—a complete waste of time,” he snarled, wiping at the sweat on his face with the back of his hand. Even from a distance, Beth could see angry disgust in his expression as he added, “We’re going to have to tranquilize him.”

“No!” Beth cried out, jumping to her feet.

Everyone turned toward the staircase. Even the merman—a still, golden form in the water—glanced at her as she rushed down the stairs.

The Delano brothers and the merman continued to watch her descent, but Ralph turned away to climb down from the platform. When he reached the floor, he glanced at her, then looked over at Big Mike and Little Dougie.

“Take a break,” he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the stairs.

Without comment, the men threw down their poles and headed past Beth on their way out. Ignoring them, she hurried on toward Ralph. By the time she reached him, he was crouching next to a wooden trunk by the platform steps.

Beth, already breathless, grew even more so when she saw the dart gun he lifted out. “You can’t!” she said.

He glanced at her, the recent anger on his face replaced with his usual expression of kindly wisdom. “I have to. He refuses to get into the cage.”

“But there’s no way to tell how a tranquilizer will affect him. It might hurt or permanently injure him.”

“I doubt it, but even so that’s a risk I’ll have to take.” Ralph rose to his feet, gun still in hand. He reached into the box again for some darts and stuffed them in his pocket as he reminded her, “I need to tend to that wound.”

“But you said his wound was minor.”

He shrugged. “I realized when I saw it again today that I was wrong. But don’t take my word for it. See for yourself.”

He gestured toward the platform, silently inviting her to climb up. Stung by the mockery in his tone, Beth glanced at his face. His expression was polite, concerned—and just the slightest bit condescending. Her fingers curled into fists. Ralph knew she was afraid of the water—not to mention the merman himself. But what he didn’t know was that no Livingston ever backed down from a challenge.

Squaring her shoulders, she stomped toward the wooden steps. Ignoring Ralph’s surprised expression, she climbed up them, aware that he was following right behind her. When she reached the top, she gingerly walked out a few feet onto the platform, careful to stay in the center of the structure. There she paused, and forced herself to look out over the tank for the merman.

For a few dizzying seconds, she couldn’t even find him. All she could see were the undulating peaks and valleys of the restless water. Then a golden flash broke the surface at the far side of the tank. Like a dolphin, the merman suddenly arced high into the air, droplets of water glittering all around him like a shower of diamonds before he disappeared back beneath the surface.

“He’s never done that before!” Ralph exclaimed in surprise, then frowned. From beneath lowered brows, he slanted a considering glance at the woman by his side.

Beth barely noticed. Startled by the merman’s sudden appearance, she’d only caught a glimpse of the red mark high on his left shoulder before he dived underwater. She kept her eyes on his shadowy form, waiting for him to resurface. When he rose into view again, he was much closer, and this time Beth saw his wound clearly. The sight made her stomach lurch. Obscenely red and raw, the gash looked painful—as if someone had crudely slashed a lightning bolt into the merman’s smooth bronzed skin.

“It’s ghastly,” she said huskily as the merman dived back underwater. Turning to confront Ralph, she demanded, “You didn’t see how bad it was yesterday?”

He shrugged, smiling ruefully. “All right, yes. I did. But I didn’t want to worry your father.”

“So you lied.”

His smile faded, and his wide brow creased in a slight frown. Removing a dart from his pocket, Ralph slipped it into the gun before glancing at her again. His voice was very crisp as he retorted, “No, I simply bent the truth a little.”

Snapping the clip down, he strode to the edge of the platform and peered into the water with a narrowed gaze. His jaw tightened as he saw that the merman had swum to the far side of the tank.

With an impatient exclamation, Ralph swung back around to face Beth. His frown darkening at the disapproval on her face, he added, “I’m concerned about your father’s condition, too, Elizabeth. I thought it best to save him as much anxiety as possible. If you can’t understand that—”

“I can,” she interrupted, biting her lip.

He nodded abruptly. “Good. Now go get the Delanos back in here—and perhaps you’d better stay outside a while. This won’t hurt the animal, but—”

Ralph broke off to stare down in stunned surprise at the strong, lean hand grasping his ankle. “What the hell is— Ack!”

The pistol flew into the air, skittering at Beth’s feet as Ralph fell backward. With a huge splash he hit the water.

Beth’s eyes widened and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. Good lord! The merman had jerked Ralph off his feet!

Hurrying to the end of the platform, she looked down over the edge. The merman was swimming away. Ralph was flailing just beneath the surface of the water.

He bobbed up, gasping for air. “Elizabeth! Get the Delanos, I—”

A muscular armed wrapped around his neck, choking the words off. The merman had circled, coming up behind him. With frightening ease, the merman pulled Ralph back against his broad chest, holding him there with one arm across his throat, the other around his ribs. The immense muscles of the merman’s shoulders and biceps leaped into corded knots beneath his gleaming brown skin as slowly, steadily, he tightened his grip.

Beth watched in horror as Ralph’s eyes widened. His round cheeks turned from pink to red as he tore fruitlessly at the muscular forearm locked against his wind-pipe. His eyes rolled then bulged as he fought to escape, his expression filled with panic. But it was the sheer lack of emotion on the merman’s face behind him that finally spurred Beth into action.

“Oh, no. Oh, please no,” she pleaded unconsciously, desperately looking around, trying to decide what to do.

Her frantic glance fell on the tranquilizer gun Ralph had dropped on the wood. Snatching it up, she pointed it with a trembling hand toward the two figures battling in the water.

Ralph’s struggles were growing feebler. His face, held just above the water line, turned from red to purple. On shaking legs, Beth moved to the other side of the platform, trying to get a clear shot at the merman’s back.

She had it—his uninjured shoulder was in her sights. She steadied her hand. But a split second before she pulled the trigger, he swung around again.

The dart hit Ralph, high in the chest.

Beth’s hand fell, the gun dropping from her numb fingers. She could see the dart sticking out from Ralph’s wet shirt, right below the tanned forearm locked around his neck. The blood drained from her face. Now—thanks to her—the merman would finish Ralph off with no problem at all.

“Oh, God, no,” she said, the words emerging huskily from her tight throat. “I’ve as good as killed him.”

The thrashing figures suddenly became ominously still as trapped in the merman’s hold, Ralph went limp. Over his shoulder, Beth’s despairing gaze locked with merciless blue eyes. For a long, endless moment the merman stared at her silently.

Then he slid underwater, carrying Ralph with him. Beth’s hand crept to her throat—then she gasped as a form suddenly burst out of the foamy water. Water flew everywhere as Ralph landed on the platform at her feet.

She quickly bent down over him. Water streamed from his hair, his clothes—dribbled out of his mouth and nose. He was soaked. He was weak. But when she pressed her fingers against the side of his neck, she could feel his pulse beating.

He was alive.

“Oh, thank you, thank you,” she breathed, looking toward the water.

But the merman had glided away.