She swallowed hard, panicky yet intrigued by the expression on his face. “What are you looking for?” she asked, almost afraid of what the answer might be.
Kenneth shook his head. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But I hoped by coming back I’d be able to find it again.”
Chapter 3
C areful not to make a sound, Tessa crept toward the western edge of the island. There, craggy boulders gave way to a small cul-de-sac, the eroded remnants of a sandy reef. At low tide smaller rocks dotted the white sand, nature’s perfect seat for sitting and just gazing at the ocean. Before the lighthouse had been constructed, this side of the island had caused a lot of damage to ships attempting to make landfall.
Because of the abundance of water in the Port Rock area, fishing and swimming were among the most popular activities. Sea kayaking and boat tours were also popular, which often meant the island saw more than its share of trespassers. Drawn by the lighthouse, many tourists chose to ignore the warning signs. If someone was in need, Tessa was glad to offer help. Otherwise she’d been known to get snappish, especially when people pulled out their cameras and started tramping around to get shots of the popular landmark.
Casting a furtive glance toward the lighthouse, Tessa breathed a little sigh of relief. It was dark, nary a sign of light or life about it. Its new occupant appeared to have settled in for the night. She’d waited until well after midnight to venture out, needing some time alone to contemplate the abrupt change in her solitary life.
A human had invaded her sacred space. And this visitor wasn’t just any human, but one who had a direct tie to her. Worse than that, pieces of the past were beginning to surface in his mind. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what would be revealed if the picture were completed.
Not that she intended to help him figure things out. Anything Kenneth Randall thought might be bona fide could easily be explained away by emotional trauma.
Tessa grinned to herself, enjoying her role as keeper of the secrets. Despite the fact she genuinely liked the man, her inner Mer still wanted to crack the whip. Control was all important in her world. A wicked thought slithered out of the darkest corner of her mind. And the proof is in the tail.
In other words, she’d swear it was all a lie.
As one of the mermaids actually dwelling on Little Mer Island, Tessa knew the indigenous Native Americans regarded stories of the sea creatures inhabiting these waters as absolutely true. Those who lived in Port Rock also did their share to keep the lore alive, many doing a thriving business in mermaid-themed paraphernalia when tourists visited the isolated port. Fishermen working in the harbor were glad to encourage belief with stories of their own.
Some of those stories might even have a grain or two of truth.
Most of them didn’t. Most of the tales were nothing more than fiction spun by locals who needed tourist dollars to keep their businesses in the black. According to them, the bay was teeming with mermaids.
Not true.
Aside from her own close- knit family, Tessa knew of no others. And unless she and her sisters found mates and had daughters of their own, their bloodline would soon be extinct in these parts.
Tessa glanced around, making double sure she was alone. The moon hung in the velvety sky, full and silvery, casting its luminous glow on the surface of the water. On calm nights the bay was a wonderful place to swim. She’d have about an hour to swim before the tide rolled back in and reclaimed the reef.
She slipped off her terry-cloth robe, tossing it over a nearby boulder. The cool night air lovingly caressed her bare skin. She wore not a single stitch, not even the skimpy pieces of a bikini. The only thing she wore around her neck was her soul-stone, which she was never without. Upon birth a Mer was given her own crystal, which contained the vital part of the magic she’d
Kenneth shook his head. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But I hoped by coming back I’d be able to find it again.”
Chapter 3
C areful not to make a sound, Tessa crept toward the western edge of the island. There, craggy boulders gave way to a small cul-de-sac, the eroded remnants of a sandy reef. At low tide smaller rocks dotted the white sand, nature’s perfect seat for sitting and just gazing at the ocean. Before the lighthouse had been constructed, this side of the island had caused a lot of damage to ships attempting to make landfall.
Because of the abundance of water in the Port Rock area, fishing and swimming were among the most popular activities. Sea kayaking and boat tours were also popular, which often meant the island saw more than its share of trespassers. Drawn by the lighthouse, many tourists chose to ignore the warning signs. If someone was in need, Tessa was glad to offer help. Otherwise she’d been known to get snappish, especially when people pulled out their cameras and started tramping around to get shots of the popular landmark.
Casting a furtive glance toward the lighthouse, Tessa breathed a little sigh of relief. It was dark, nary a sign of light or life about it. Its new occupant appeared to have settled in for the night. She’d waited until well after midnight to venture out, needing some time alone to contemplate the abrupt change in her solitary life.
A human had invaded her sacred space. And this visitor wasn’t just any human, but one who had a direct tie to her. Worse than that, pieces of the past were beginning to surface in his mind. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what would be revealed if the picture were completed.
Not that she intended to help him figure things out. Anything Kenneth Randall thought might be bona fide could easily be explained away by emotional trauma.
Tessa grinned to herself, enjoying her role as keeper of the secrets. Despite the fact she genuinely liked the man, her inner Mer still wanted to crack the whip. Control was all important in her world. A wicked thought slithered out of the darkest corner of her mind. And the proof is in the tail.
In other words, she’d swear it was all a lie.
As one of the mermaids actually dwelling on Little Mer Island, Tessa knew the indigenous Native Americans regarded stories of the sea creatures inhabiting these waters as absolutely true. Those who lived in Port Rock also did their share to keep the lore alive, many doing a thriving business in mermaid-themed paraphernalia when tourists visited the isolated port. Fishermen working in the harbor were glad to encourage belief with stories of their own.
Some of those stories might even have a grain or two of truth.
Most of them didn’t. Most of the tales were nothing more than fiction spun by locals who needed tourist dollars to keep their businesses in the black. According to them, the bay was teeming with mermaids.
Not true.
Aside from her own close- knit family, Tessa knew of no others. And unless she and her sisters found mates and had daughters of their own, their bloodline would soon be extinct in these parts.
Tessa glanced around, making double sure she was alone. The moon hung in the velvety sky, full and silvery, casting its luminous glow on the surface of the water. On calm nights the bay was a wonderful place to swim. She’d have about an hour to swim before the tide rolled back in and reclaimed the reef.
She slipped off her terry-cloth robe, tossing it over a nearby boulder. The cool night air lovingly caressed her bare skin. She wore not a single stitch, not even the skimpy pieces of a bikini. The only thing she wore around her neck was her soul-stone, which she was never without. Upon birth a Mer was given her own crystal, which contained the vital part of the magic she’d
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