He laughs, and I stare at him, intrigued. His face is so mobile, vivid with expressions. I could sit and stare at him for ages and not grow bored. The thought is concerning enough that I jump to my feet. He looks at me, startled.
“Well, I must be off,” I say briskly.
He blinks. “Pardon?”
I gesture back up the beach. “I have to go. I need to call the car hire company and arrange for a different car. My other one broke down in the car park. Then I have to go home.”
He gets to his feet. He towers over me, but the grace of his movements makes it so I don’t feel small and threatened. “I would wish you did not go,” he says almost wistfully.
His eyes are very pretty, and I find myself swaying forward, yearning to touch him and make him keep talking to me. It’s such an alien feeling that I force myself to step away. “Well, it has been very nice to meet you. Merry Christmas to you.”
“Nadelik Lowen,” he says gravely.
“Sorry?”
“Ah, it is Cornish for Merry Christmas.”
“It sounds better like that.”
He seems to hesitate and then looks beyond me. I turn in that direction and blink. For a second, I think I see a man lying on the rocks. His hair is black, and he has a tail with scales that glisten in the light.
I rub my eyes. “What the hell?”
“What is it?” Sigurd asks.
I gesture at the rocks. “A man.” But on second glance, there’s only a seal lying there. Even as I watch, it seems to nod at us and then slides into the water. I’m hallucinating again. Maybe I need to make a doctor’s appointment when I get home.
“Sorry,” I say, flushing. “The light is playing tricks on my eyes.”
Laughter travels on the breeze, but it’s probably only the wind sighing around the rocks. Sigurd stares at me, his eyes alight with some strange expression. The wind gives a funny gust, blowing my hair back and making me stagger. The surf sounds suddenly louder, and when I turn to the sea, a huge wave begins to break, cresting just beyond the beach. Before I canscurry away, it smashes against the rocks and covers me in ice-cold water.
“Shit,” I shout, staggering as the wave retreats, sucking at my feet and unbalancing me.
Sigurd snaps, “That is far too big. Rein yourself in, you fool.”
“Pardon?” I gasp.
Strong hands steady me, and I try to blink the water away, my eyes stinging with the salt. Fabric is pushed into my hands, and I automatically rub my eyes.
I lower the fabric, realising it’s Sigurd’s sarong at the same moment I see him naked as the day he was born. He’s glaring at the seal in the water, his hands on his narrow hips. I think I hear that same laughter for a second on the wind, but it’s a gull cawing raucously overhead as if jeering at me.
My eyes take in the lovely swell of Sigurd’s arse, tanned the same colour as the rest of him, and I slowly scan the tattoos covering his back. They’re obviously old, and they’ve faded to a sepia colour that contrasts with his skin.
He turns, catching the direction of my gaze, and I immediately shove the sarong at him. “Thank you,” I say. “It won’t do for you to catch a chill on that.” I gesture awkwardly at his backside.
His eyes twinkle. “No indeed. It is best that it remains in working order.”
I move and grimace at the clammy feeling of my wet jeans. I look down in dismay. My clothes are soaked.
“Shit,” I say dismally. “I see I’m making my usual sterling first impression. What’s next? All my clothes drop off?”
His lip twitches. “I do not find that as much of a calamity as you appear to do.”
I snort and then give a violent shiver.
A look of concern crosses his handsome face. “You will catch an ague. You should allow me to take you to my home, where I shall give you some warmer attire.”
As I hesitate, the wind blows icily, making my teeth chatter. I can’t believe he’s standing there half naked without a sign of goosebumps. And I’d definitely know about that, because I appear to have mapped every inch of his very fine body.
